"Here we are!" she shouted, pulling out some rollers. "Hop in, my cute little bunny."
I obediently leapt on top of the rollers, thinking I owed her for the stunt I pulled, even after what she'd done to my body. She began turning the crank, and the rollers caught the heel of the shoe she'd forced me into and kept pulling, crushing the shoes far more easily than I would've thought. When the rollers reached my flesh, when I should have felt the crushing of bone, I only felt an almost pleasant squeeze as my body, my essence, flowed through them. The squeezing, up my legs, over my new hips, my new cunt and ass, my stomach, my new breasts, up to my very skull, at which point I realized I hadn't been breathing for some time. My head passed through with no fuss, and my ears after.
Venus picked me up from the roller and showed me off to the oohs and aahs of the audience. She laid me out on a table and started to chop and stitch. It didn't hurt at all, the same way it doesn't hurt when a needle passes through your outermost layer of skin, even though I could sense both needle and scissors passed all the way through me. Before long I was a low-cut, short-skirted dress.
"Now, I'll need a volunteer from the audience!" she shouted. Hands went up. She pointed to a couple a few rows back. "You."
The woman stood up. "No, not you," Venus said, "you," she said to her husband, who had half-raised his hand, likely as a joke. He walked up to the stage, giggling.
"Well," said Venus, "I'm not sure this dress will fit you, will it? Well, that's easily rectified." With a wave of her wand, the man was replaced with a woman of the exact size to wear me, features otherwise similar, shirt falling down around her shoulders, pants and underwear on the stage. The audience laughed.
"Now, now," said Venus. She pulled a wheeled curtain in front of the volunteer, giving her privacy as she pulled me on. The audience must have thought it smoke and mirrors, but (s)he and I both knew better. Soon Venus had pulled the curtain away, leaving this newly minted woman wearing me and nothing else. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for..."
She put her microphone to the mouth of my new possessor; "Dennis," she whispered.
"Dennis!"
The audience applauded as Dennis sat back down next to her wife, who looked her (and me) up and down in horror. The show went on, from then on children's tricks, coin and cup-and-ball tricks, and soon came the usual exit throng. Dennis and her wife hovered at the exit, of course with me in tow.