Your legs are gone, replaced with folds of latex that rapidly collapse beneath you. You laugh. Your hips, your midriff, your breasts, all soon begin to collapse; your arms and head are sucked into the low neckline, and you laugh no more.
"I'm glad you find it so funny," says a female voice from behind you. "I hope you keep your sense of humor for quite some time." She gathers you up in one arm, and runs off.
As the two of you head home, you find your eyes - eyes that no longer exist - adapting to the "darkness" of their nonexistence. Before too long, you can "see," although that's not the right word, three hundred and sixty degrees. It's not quite like your old sight, but it's sight.
You're thankful for this when you get to her home, since the first thing she does is get undressed. Now that you have a better look at her, you see a gorgeous 180 cm black woman, muscled as fuck, with breasts only a B-cup, but larger than a woman of her build has any right to. She pulls you on, and suddenly you feel a rapport with her; she can't hear your thoughts, but you know instinctively how to communicate, just as if you were speaking normally. "All right, talk," she says. "Christy's had me eating cheese a while now, but she's never made me her errand girl like this - what's her game?"