One second Zossie was sitting in her room listening to music and the next she was in some strange room filled with fancy decorations and a lot of floor space. The room spoke of money with a single glance and she automatically froze for two reasons, one because her phone had started making a static noise and two because she was not prepared to be suddenly standing and fell on her rump. She immediately took out the earbuds and looked around the room in confusion having no idea where she was or what she was doing there. Panic began to surge through her as she heard noise from another room.
Marie Ronsel was the wife of fashion designer Louis Ronsel and a former model herself. In her prime she had strut down runways all over the world in the most elaborate outfits imaginable. While her husband still sketched and sewed the latest fashionable outfits and set trends for literal years at a time she had moved back to a simple job from the home, an editor of “Fashion Blanc” one of the world’s best selling fashion magazines with a reputation of quality to match the popularity. She and her husband had hosted a wonderful party for the models of Louis’ latest fashion show and she was typing up an article about it. The night had been wonderful and while she was engrossed in her writing she heard a sudden surprised noise from one of the rooms and froze.
Marie and Louis hadn't ever produced any children and the noise was definitely that of a child. It wasn’t that they didn’t want kids, quite the contrary in fact, circumstance had rendered it impossible. Louis had deformed sperm. The little swimmers would spin in circles instead of swimming straight for the egg. No matter what they tried and how much they’d fucked no pregnancy had ever emerged. So the sound of a child making a surprised noise filled Marie with fear. Her immediate thought was that some ruffian had broken into their flat but that didn’t make sense. They were near the top of one of the most pristine buildings in all of Paris. Why would a criminal choose their home to rob over the political figures and CEO’s that also made the building home.
Figuring she must have imagined the sound Marie rose to her feet and exited her office with her white hair moving with her steps. Marie had embraced the elderly look and now had a powerful early elder look to her, the kind of look that would stick with her for years to come and actually made her look younger than slathered on makeup. She still had firm and round boobs that bobbed with her movements and had an elegant and hot look to her. She probably could have remained a model teenage boys would masturbate to in their magazines for a few more years but she had decided the modelling life was too stressful. It made her keep up with ridiculous figures and though he was surrounded by sexy models every day Louis found her natural look more alluring than anything, hence his tendency to come home and bang her against the windows when he finished with a problematic day filled with high mainenence models who flaunted their sex like common sluts.
Marie crept towards the parlour and peered in to find a completely strange girl in there. The two looked at each other in surprise and the girl began shouting something in another language. Marie wasn’t sure what it was but it sounded like English to her. She didn’t know why but instead of screaming and running she stayed. A vague feeling or familiarity hovered between her and the dark skinned girl with brown hair and scruffy casual clothing on. That feeling began to grow and the girl took on an equally confused expression.
They stared at each other unsure of what to do. Marie thought she saw the girls skin pale out to a very similar tone to her own but that couldn’t be right. The girl had always had white skin. That feeling of familiarity only intensified as the girl’s breasts inflated to near her own size and her hair brightened to a light brown with undertones of red. They moved towards each other as the girl’s facial structure rearranged itself becoming French in appearance. Her waist shot in, her hips flared out, and She began to look like Marie. Except she’s had Louis’ hair colour and eyes. Those deep blue eyes. She knew she was related to the girls as the girl started speaking French and getting more and more casual and comfortable with it as her English was forgotten. Marie was right at the girl now and as the girl shook her head and felt her name vanish Marie suddenly knew who it was. Her waist changed to showcase some signs of a past pregnancy and the girl’s clothes shifted into the latest teen girl trend’s and her hair was pulled back into a tail.
Suddenly Marie had a child. She recalled the miracle of a sudden pregnancy, the months where she became bloated with child, and her reason for quitting modelling changing so she could be at home and raise the baby. The girl was Zara, her sixteen year old daughter. She’d been a loud baby, constantly babbling and singing as a toddler, and socializing with everyone she could as a child. She would talk to strangers on the plane, talk to suit clad businessmen at formal dinners, and make friends as easily as humanly possible. She was an extremely talented young lady who had a knack for the piano and listened to a wide array of music. She spent hours being sized and trying on clothes her father designed and not once in her life had she ever worn anything not in style or designer. She’d Even appeared in a few ads for children’s fashion and teen fashion and could pose and strut like a professional.
The entire air in the room changed as both Zara and Marie had their eyes glaze over. Marie went back to work while Zara turned and walked to a spare bedroom that quickly began to reorganize itself into her bedroom. Her clothing changed into a school uniform and a bag was being drawn behind her. In her mind she had just finished a year at a private school for girls up in the mountains. There had been snow on the ground all year and she was happy to be back in Paris where it was already warm. She held her hand up and a phone materialized in it and she began speaking fluent French into it making plans with a friend she hadn’t seen all year to meet up that evening. Her friends had her attention that night and her parents would have her attention the next day. She eventually hung up and quickly climbed into the shower washing the sweaty feeling of travel off her body and preparing for a night out. She cleaned herself up and dressed in a brand new dress that had been lain out for her composed of a throwback to nineteen fifties fashion. The shirt was collared and she pulled a skirt up that stopped at her waist. It was a rather homely but still attractive look and she fit it well. Her father truly did know how to design clothing for her.
Afterwards Zara went to the living room and began to key out some notes on the piano while her mother read a magazine nearby. She felt rather pleasant and only stopped when she got a text message from her friend. Then she kissed her mother goodbye, put on a nice jacket, and popped in her headphones. She rode the train towards the mall with her headphones playing static into her ears. She didn’t seem to notice and didn’t even react when they cut back in with songs completely in French that she understood as good as she had English a mere hour prior. Everything about her had changed and yet some things hadn’t. She was still Zossie but certain things had changed to match her new reality. There were strange thoughts saying things she didn’t understand in her head but they were fading by the second and being converted into her own mind. Pleasant thoughts about how she liked this better. She was somewhat confused by them. Like what better? She didn’t know and didn’t think about it for too long as soon enough Zossie’s mind was happily assimilated and converted into Zara’s and in her last moments in her old life Zossie’s transforming mind was in absolute delight at who she had become and who she would be living as.