As soon as your hand leaves the enter key, your PC flickers and dies.
Hesitantly, you reach out to the monitor. If this program killed your PC you’d be pissed. As your hand nears the monitor, you start back slightly as a brief static shock passes into your hand.
The sensation quickly abates, leaving you staring at your desk in bewilderment. There, sitting just below the monitor, is a thin golden ring. The cat’s eye jewel makes it obvious it’s the same one your character would wear.
Your hands shake slightly as you lift the ring from your desk. Slowly, you slide it onto the middle finger of your left hand. Just like your heroine. A brief tickling travels up your arm, reaching up to your shoulder. And then…
Nothing.
Confused, you lift your hand to check out the ring again, turning your hand over to get a good look. Was that it? All this anticipation and all you get is a ring?
Your other hand comes up to check the ring again, adjusting it until a finger passes over the gem itself. As it does, the gem shifts slightly, becoming more cat-like. A trick of the light?
And then you see it: a tendril of black smoke flows from the ring, enshrouding your left hand before vanishing. As it does, you can see what gets left behind. Your hand is now covered by a fingerless black glove. You can see the ring proudly sitting over the middle finger. Rubbing your hands together gives a sensation almost like leather.
Your exploration is distracted however, by the realization that the glove is still growing. Like a living thing, it is slowly inching its way up your forearm. You’ve got to see the rest.
Getting up from your desk, you walk across your bedroom to the closet door. Staring at your arm in the mirror, you watch as the black material slowly consumes your lower arm. Patches of dark grey provide some slight contrast to the monochrome as it passes over your elbow.
As the encroaching sleeve approaches your shirt sleeve, the latter begins to shrink up your arm, the fabric unraveling as it darkens to match. Soon it is joined by the whole of your shirt, shrinking up your torso as metal and lace traceries appear.
You chuckle at the sight of your torso in the mirror, now covered only by a lacy black bra. Still, your attention quickly returns to the developing catsuit, now making its way towards your chest. Strangely, the leather only advances partway, staying open across your chest as it encircles your back. The result would best be called a leather jacket were it not for the integrated gloves.
The jacket then continues to drip downwards, tendrils interlinking with your pants until they form one garment. The black leather continues its journey down your pants as they tighten against your legs. Meanwhile, you can feel your underwear shifting under them. You can’t see, but something tells you the panties match your bra even as your member is pressed tightly in them.
You weren’t wearing shoes when you put the ring on, but your socks seem more than ready to pick up the slack as they harden over your feet. Your balance shifts as a slight heel forms on the bottom. At the same time the top of the new boots rises just above your ankle, straps tightening over the ends.
The final touch comes from the fly of your pants. The zipper draws itself down for a moment before the teeth shoot up both sides of the opening over your chest, forming a full seal from crotch to top.
Looking in the mirror again, you cut a rather ridiculous sight right now. A man in lacy underwear and a catsuit, zipper open almost to your crotch, unsteady in heeled boots. You stand there for a moment, torn between anticipation and laughter at your present state.
Then, you feel it. It isn’t in one place in particular, more of a general feeling. Like something is building in your limbs, just under the skin.
Suddenly, the suit starts tightening against your limbs, like a python coiled around its prey. It’s not exactly a pleasant sensation, but you endure it. Then, like air from a balloon, your limbs start shrinking in time as the excess fat is bled from them, replaced with taut muscle.
Your arms thin as fingers elongate, taking on a delicate but no less capable appearance. Legs lengthen slightly as muscle appears along your thighs, sleek and supple.
You cringe again as the tightening sensation moves to your shoulders, bones shifting as they are pressed inwards. Your height decreases slight as well, settling at around five foot eight.
Hips force themselves outwards with a wince, bones shifting as they take on a wider shape. What’s left is ample if not exaggerated. The beginnings of a model’s body.
The changes have now reached your member, straining to attention under the suit from the sensations of your transformation. That only lasts for moments however, as it quickly draws inwards, vanishing into a moist slit as your eyes cross from the wash of pleasure that accompanied the latest change.
Your torso is the last part of your male body remaining, and the most drastic alteration yet. The zipper of your catsuit begins to advance upwards of its own accord. Were it does; your belly shrinks to nothingness in its advance as your waist narrows, leaving you with a flat stomach and subtly defined abs.
Finally, another wash of pleasure comes as two mounds of flesh grow outwards from your chest. They push outwards to perky C-cups, perfectly filling out the waiting bra. Tingles of joy continue as the zipper tightens against your body, stopping with just a bit of cleavage revealed. Enough to distract unwary opponents, you grin.
Your face narrows as high cheekbones and a dainty nose mold themselves into being. Eyes burn briefly as their color changes to a brilliant cerulean; your lips plumping and widening into a perfect smirk.
Midnight black hair bursts from the back of your head, falling down to just above your breast before the strands begin to lift into the air. Held aloft by unseen forces, your hair twists itself into a complicated braid, looping around to tie itself securely at the base of your neck.
And then it’s over.
You turn about in the middle of your room, panting slightly from the afterglow as new sensations: flexibility, confidence, energy, suffuse you. Crouching down, you launch into a cartwheeling backflip, landing suspended by one hand before slowly bending yourself back to the ground.
“Perfect,” you purr, voice clear and enticing, “Absolutely perfect.”
You stride to the other side of the room, eager to get a glance of your completed form. Pausing for a moment, your hand comes up towards the mirror, brushing gently against the reflection. Just like you’d imagined.
Still, that reverie only lasts for a moments at your eyes drift from the mirror to the clothes still hanging on their rack.
“Guess I’ll need a whole new wardrobe,” you comment.
Brushing a hand along the corner of your lip, you smile as your eyes settle on the ring, “Of course, you should be able to help with that.”
Spinning around in the mirror, you take one more look at yourself.
“So, dear,” you ask the reflection, “Just who are you?”
Hand rising to your chin in thought, you think of how to complete your metamorphosis. Every good superhero needs two things: a secret identity and, more importantly, a name. The former was already taken care of, but you still need to think of a name.
Something regal; something thematic; something that will hold in the memories of everyone who sees you.
“Perhaps…”
“Bastet.”