Moderator: Mistress Guendolen
Lance walks into the room advertised from the directions he'd written down. He scratches his head, wondering what happened to the laundromat that was obviously supposed to fill the same space. He sighs at yet another supposed convenience of magic, not really buying into all the mumbo jumbo on TV. He stops for a moment at the chute. He'd brought a little something to take the edge off, should the magic drugs or whatever end up boring or something. He figured the authorities wouldn't appreciate him stashing his goods in there, and since he figured he could make some calls to buddies on the outside, he keeps his phone too. He sniffs, rolls his shoulders, and steps in the door. "Here goes nuthin'."
Through the door, Lance finds a hallway painted a bright red, with a single door aside from the one he entered, at the opposite end. The hallway's temperature is no different from that of the room he just came from, yet there seems to be a pleasant, almost reassuring warmth about it.
Lance blinks as he just kind of stands there, taking in the odd hallway. "Oh. Kaaaay?" He shrugs and meanders forward, hands in his pockets not just to stay close to his goodies, but because it just felt kind of right. Despite the glaring color of the walls, he couldn't help but relax a little. "I get paid for walking through a hall? I can handle that."
After walking for a few seconds or so, Lance gets a strange feeling along his head, and particularly his face; it's like how a limb feels when it's asleep, somewhat numb but a little tingly. The feeling subsides before long, but he will find several things are different. His ears seem to have grown somehow and are actually twitching a little bit; his face seems smooth (partially
because his beard has disappeared) and a bit more rounded. Perhaps worse, his hair has become quite long, reaching down his back, and has taken on a much lighter reddish hue.
Lance stretches, popping his neck. The change in weight on his neck strikes him as odd, and he pulls a lock of hair in front of his face. "What the f---?" He scratches the side of his head, pretty sure that he hasn't taken anything yet. He knew enough not to be high during his first impression. But then again, he usually didn't have twitchy ears unless he WAS on something...
Close as his hand is to the ear on that side, he might find himself accidentally bumping the two together, discovering fuzzy stuff...fur?...on the ear. It seems to have a rather triangular shape, sticking straight out of his head now. His voice sounds just slightly off now, a tiny bit higher than before, and his arms, starting from the shoulders and going down, start to become thinner.
He twitches his ear against his fingers instead of the other way around. It's quite by accident, but wiggling and moving his ears just seems a lot easier to do now. Of course, it freaks him out. He stops in the hallway and rips his "medicinal stuffs" out of his pocket. He gives it a quick count. "It's all here. So I can't be tripping. So what's going on?" He gulps loudly, frightened at the sound of his voice.
While he's counting, the shifting of his arms finds its way to his hands, making his fingers and nails a bit longer, the top of the nails turning pink as if they'd been painted; his shirt shifts a bit, too, its sleeves lengthening to his wrists. His voice, meanwhile, cracks and squeaks a bit on its way up before settling at a firm, womanly alto. Speaking of "womanly", Lance's chest is starting to itch a little bit, and seems to be growing..outward.
"Ah!" Lance jumps back, dropping the contents of his hand. He looks at his nails and the delicate fingers in awe before touching his throat. "Testing..." He lets out a squeak and turns around, running back the way he came. "No no no no! This is not cool!" He tries to ignore his itching chest, but he can't help but look down with how odd it feels.
The door back seems far away...even though Lance didn't walk very far from it. They look just the same; is that really the way back?
He can see his chest now has two round lumps; they're making it a little hard to run comfortably just now, and still growing. The now long-sleeved shirt tightening on his body a bit doesn't help much, either. His stomach starts to shift, too, seeming to pull in from the front, both sides, and even from above and below--he's losing a few inches of height to it.
Lance stops running, his wide eyes focused on his growing chest. "What. The. F---!" Tentatively, he cups one of the small orbs. He's pretty sure of what they are, but he'd never really seen them from this perspective before, especially not connected to him.
Lance gets confirmation of three things: that they are real, that they are part of his body, and that they're still growing, even pushing his hand a bit. The long-sleeved shirt...top...whatever forms a collar on his neck and opens up a bit in the front, and a short blue scarf finds its way along under said collar. His stomach seems mostly finished now, except for a slight, almost undefinable discomfort, and the changes seem to flow their way on down with no regard for his reaction. His hips are next, spreading out and backwards, and his jeans, seemingly all at once, billow out into a skirt, turn pink, and shrink way up his legs, revealing that they, too, are changing, are becoming thin like his arms and smooth and hairless like his face; a long, smooth tail suddenly bursts out on the top side of the skirt. His underwear alters just as suddenly, pulling off his legs and tightening on his groin. The discomfort in, well, her stomach seems to fade, but it's fairly evident what it was from. For that matter, her chest seems finished, at quite a prominent size.
The tail is of a pink hue near the end, that darkens closer to her body to a purple color; her hair has faded to a similar pink color. As if in shock from all the sudden change, her vision seems to blur...but it stays blurry. She might notice a pair of glasses on the ground, looking as if it had fallen right out of the skirt on the side Lance's phone was on.
It's all Lance can do to keep from hyperventilating. He reaches down for the glasses and puts them on. He hadn't needed glasses for a long while now. He got eye surgery a couple years back to fix it. And he insisted on referring to himself as a him, despite crossing his legs and not feeling what should be there anymore. True, he is still somewhat fascinated with his breasts, the feel of them in his hand and the feel of his hand against them. If not for that strange yet odd sensation, he would probably be trying to tear the walls down.
Lance might notice, still feeling, that there seem to be two layers of cloth between the hand and the chest; a bra seems to have materialized at some point. It probably occurs to him, or her, that she's still attracted to females, but..thinking on it, she will find she's attracted to males...too? It's a little bit confusing...
A few things are subtly planted in her mind, such as a name, Lacey, that seems more fitting to her appearance; a tendency in conversation to occasionally say things like "purr" or "hiss" or "meow", maybe even cat puns?, but none of that besides the name surfaces just now.
The door's in front of Lacey; which door she can't exactly tell, but she gets a feeling it's the one she started out going toward.
There seems to be only one door besides the one Michael entered through; it is on the opposite end of the hallway, and seems kind of far away, but not impossible to walk to. Looking ahead, Micheal suddenly finds a semi-acoustic guitar right in front of him, just sort of hanging in the air. It definitely wasn't there before, and he gets a feeling like the guitar is begging him to take it.
The guitar's strap seems to be made of a chain link; yet when he puts it on it seems strangely comfortable, familiar even. A couple of yellow picks seem to appear in his right hand; meanwhile, Micheal's shirt seems to be turning a deep blue color, and the denim of his jeans begin to feel strangely soft.
His pants seem to have changed to a kind of cloth, and his shirt now matches them perfectly in color. In fact, they're starting to meld together a little bit. While he feels of it, he may notice something's a little odd with his fingers. Closer inspection will reveal they have become a bit thinner and longer, and much more noticeably, calluses have formed along them. Michael gets the impression that he could try and play the guitar, with the picks, and the new formations on his fingers would help.
Michael feels a slight tingling along his face, and his glasses seem to alter in shape just slightly, the lenses becoming short, wide ovals; his hair seems to straighten and style itself just a bit. He finds new knowledge working its way into his head regarding the instrument he's holding: how it's played, how to read tabs, several memorized songs; it all feels like memories he'd forgotten that are just now resurfacing. His clothing continues to shift, the sleeves his shirt becoming wider while the leggings of the pants spread out, meeting and combining with each other until the cloth encircles his legs, none of it between them; at the same time they become much shorter, exposing his legs almost up to the mid-thighs.
Micheal feels more strange tingling all along his legs, and as he is looking down he can clearly see them becoming thinner and more rounded, and smoother, losing their hair. Then, there is suddenly a tug as a light blue sash made of similar cloth to the dress his clothing has become suddenly appears and tightens itself on his stomach. In fact, it seems to be so tight that it's pushing his stomach in, making it flat and thin, and pushing much of the mass down into his hips and bottom, causing them to widen and grow. It's so tight, the next time he speaks his voice has gone up a few octaves, to a mid-soprano...wait, that's not a usual result of tight clothing, is it? But it happens anyway!
Before long, MIchael's body has formed into a bit of an hourglass shape, and then the sash starts to seem less tight, as if his stomach had always been that size; then, his underwear reforms itself, losing its leggings and becoming tight in general, and though it seems to be uncomfortable between his legs at first, that's soon rectified by another change to Michael's body. Next, the top part of the blue dress, right around the chest area, suddenly becomes much looser, and under it something straps itself to Michael's back and hook onto each shoulder. There's just enough time to realize it's a brassiere before her chest springs to life, growing to fill it and the top of the dress in, completing her change. Nothing seems different about the girl's mind, other than the new knowledge of the guitar, accompanied by quite a bit of skill, and a name--Miika. And now, she is right in front of the door.
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 6 guests