All my life, I had been warned of the temptations the devil would place in my way. Teachers and priests ad nasuem had delivered sermons on how it was my duty to remain pure, how Satan's influence would constantly batter me, seeking to turn me astray and lead righteous men down with me. Sometimes they had made me to feel guilty simply for being a woman, as if I should be ashamed of my own vulnerability, of how the great evil would seek to exploit me against proper men of god.
And yet here I stood, made an offer by a genuine associate of Lucifer - and she offered me no corruption, sought not to turn me into an instrument of destruction and chaos. She merely wished to free me from my shackles, to provide me with the means to ensure my freedom forevermore. What she offered to me was of far greater value than any lavish gift I'd ever received, or any praise showered by my father's syncophants. What I held in my hand was power, the kind that the laws of this land would never have let me wield, royalty or not.
What good was there in wasting it on some self-serving prince?
Surprise crossed Morgana's face as I turned the tip of the wand towards myself, yet she made no move to stop me. There was something unspoken in the mystical object in my hand, an immediate understanding that I need only will what changes I please, and the magic within the wand would excute my desire. In my mind, I imagined the form I had always wished for, and with a great sparking and swirling of energies from the small rod's tip, magic began to wash over my body, carrying out my will.
My clothes were the first thing to be affected. I had always hated the dresses I was forced to wear, so needlessly elaborate, constricting, covering up every possible inch of skin. If I was going to be free, I would wear something more suited to my tastes. The simple black dress, with its intricate red patterning, that Morgana wore - it was my inspiration, a point of reference as material vanished from my dress, its excessive length greatly reduced. In moments the hem came only to knees, its sleeves barely extending down past my shoulder - and the neckline, becoming far more akin to a chest line, plunging deep down the front. Its pale blue color became black, dark as night, the edges detailed with intricate silver and red patterns. A slit formed on the side, showing a wonderful view of one leg, and finally, that silly tiara upon my head vanished.
The bands that kept my boring, prim bun melted away, allowing the dark brown locks to flow freely. Brown - feh. So utterly banal, just as the rest of my family had been. With a small sizzle, the strands began to change their hue, lightening to an icy blue color that perfectly matched my eyes. Straight, plain styling was quickly made far more interesting with cascading waves, coming down to my shoulders to nearly frame my face.
I was already quite pretty - there was no need to change my eyes, my face, anything in that region. But my body - oh, how I wanted to change things there. I had spent my whole life being judged based on my body, my looks - perhaps some of the things said about my body influenced the image of my idealized self. But this new body would be for me and me alone, not for any starving man.
My height was first to change, increasing greatly in a short span of time. Morgana, previously just slightly taller than I, now had to crane her neck to look up at me. Even most men would find themselves looking up, for once, while I enjoyed glaring down at them. My legs, now delightfully long, became smooth, soft as silken sheets, as did the rest of my skin. Their slender shape curved outwards as my hips gained width, simeltaneously with my posterior bubbling out, growing to a perfect round shape.
I grew excited as my waist tightened in, and the changes in my chest began. Father had spent every day since I entered puberty fighting to keep my breast hidden, fearful that I would be targeted for horrific assault should men realize that I possessed even small endowments. No longer bound by such worries, the mounds on my chest quickly swelled, unbound and filling out an increasingly tight dress. They stopped at a size just greater than any woman I had laid eyes on, large enough to demand attention, yet pert, perky, supported by magic alone. I couldn't stop myself from tracing a finger down my front, relishing in the way they squished together, the whole of their meeting place visible with the deep plunge of my neckline.
With the changes capped off, I could feel the magic wane from the wand - only one spell's worth within it, I supposed. But what a spell it had been! I looked to Morgana, smirking with satisfaction as I handed the wand back to her. "A far better use of the magic, I think."
She pushed for me to retain the wand, leaning slightly to one side as she looked over my body approvingly. "Ohhh, it most certainly was." The prince at the door finally burst in, mouth open and prepared to deliver some speech; neither I nor Morgana even looked to him, my magical companion merely waving her hand in order to freeze him solid. "I was right. You are exactly the kind of woman I was looking for."
There was a sense of satisfaction in my heart from her words, far greater than any I'd felt from the praise of another. Her crimson eyes looked upon with me admiration, not merely for my looks, but for my spirit, my initative. Who I was, deep down, had impressed the witch, and I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at that fact. "I think we'll need to start your training right away, my dear Sara." She snapped her fingers, and I could feel power returning to the wand, magic flooding its fibers once more.
"You may do as you wish to our intruder," she said, gesturing towards the ice block containing the invading prince. "After that, we will conduct the necessecary rituals to unlock your true potential..." She reached out and placed a hand on my chest, and a strange warmth filled me. "Among... other rituals."