...you felt that the outfit wasn't right for you. Sure, you felt cute and you looked wonderful, but it wasn't what you imagined the perfect ballerina to be. You looked in the mirror and brushed your wig out and flattened out your dress. You looked like a little sister trying to imitate your older sister, and you didn't want to settle for an imitation. If these costumes allowed you to change who you were, why would you ever settle for less than perfection?
Feeling a new determination, you pull aside the curtain your stall and head out to find a better ballerina outfit. You wander through the aisles again, searching for a new area with something more appealing. You find it a bit strange that you don't see the shopkeeper wandering around, nor do you see any other patrons. Well, more costumes for you then.
On a hangar, you find a white, gauzy, transparent ballerina dress with a pair of pink ballet shoes next to it, suspended by its signature ribbons. It looks like it would be a bit big on you but given your past experience, you'll probably grow into it. Removing the hangar with the utmost care, you prance back into the changing room and began to change clothes.
You unwind your ballet shoes and take off your tights. You next take off your sleeves and finally whip the dress over your head. The new dress didn't have a wig with it, but you still removed the flowers since they won't match your new outfit.
The new dress had a shimmering white bodice that covered your breasts and torso. The second part was a filmy, transparent dress that would reach past your thighs, but they will still be able to be seen.
Stepping into the dress, you find it hangs quite loose on you as you pull it up. Soon after pulling the leotard to its approximate place, you find yourself begin to grow and get older as your body uses the dress as container to perfectly fill. Looking in the mirror, you are much older, possibly 17 or 18. Your legs have the muscles necessary for a ballerina while still appearing slender. You almost laughed at the sight of yourself wearing the wig. While it may have looked cute on a younger girl, it made the new you look childish and juvenile, like an immature child that is coddled by their parents and doesn't do anything for themselves
Disgusted, you throw the wig into the corner and brush out your natural hair. The brown looked nice, but its length left a bit more to be desired. You made a quick sweep of the room to double check if another wig came with the dress, but you didn't find anything. Maybe you could find a wig from a different costume to use.
Brushing aside the curtain, you once again make your way out into the store, excited to stretch your legs and test your new grace. You wandered around and checked multiple other costumes for accompanying wigs, but you couldn't find any. You'd soon went through all the aisles and were still unable to find any additional wigs. Puzzled, you turned around and headed back to the changing room... or at least you were going to.
You eye a narrow hallway branching off in between two racks of hangars that seemed to turn a corner. Curious, you walked down the hallway and peered out at what was at the other side. At the end of the hallway was a wall with dozens of mannequin heads with wigs on top of them. They seemed to come in all sorts of styles and colors. You gave yourself a little pat on the back at such a magnificent find. Eagerly, you rush forward to a wall and allow a long, auburn wig to command your attention. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed to be calling to you.
You placed it on your head and started brushing out the tresses, delightedly feeling the hair sway around and rest on your back. You turn and face a mirror that is positioned in the middle of the shelves. And you were complete. You were beautiful, a more accurate representation of what a ballerina should be. In fact, you were.... what is this feeling?
You fell to the ground as you felt a sudden attack on your brain. It was like something was forcing its way into your mind! You roll around and scream, trying to take the wig off, but it holds steadfastly to your head.
All of a sudden, your body stops moving. You watch as you pick yourself off of the ground, look in the mirror, and crack a devilish smile.
"I have been without a host for far too long."