You start meandering around town, looking for something to do. The chocolate taste has almost completely faded, to your disappointment. You'd like to go back to the candy shop and buy another box, but you know that wouldn't be a good idea, both for your health and for your wallet.
Something tickles your ear, and you gently scratch it. Your hand brushes against your hair, which feels rather long. You're passing by a shop window, and so you glance at your reflection to see what's up. Your hair looks bushier than usual. It's about time for a haircut.
As you continue walking, your shirt begins to feel tight. Then you feel a strange sensation in your groin. You glance down and stop in your tracks. There are two strange bulges in your shirt, and they're slowly growing.
An instant later, someone runs into you from behind. You shriek in a strange high-pitched tone you've never heard yourself make before. Behind you is a man about ten years older than you. He's grasping your arm to steady himself.
"Sorry, ma'am. You stopped right in front of me, and..." the man's voice fails as he looks at something on your forehead. You're startled and confused. He called you "ma'am." Why? And what's he looking at?
Then something slowly falls into your vision. From the feeling on your forehead you know it's your hair. But it can't be that long...and it certainly can't be growing like that!
"Um...I'll just be...getting along..." the man stammers as he walks past you. You turn to watch him scuttle away, and your hair slaps against your face.
Knowing something strange is happening to you, you quickly walk to a nearby department store window. There are beautifully dressed mannequins behind the glass, but that's of little concern right now. You can clearly see someone reflected back, but you can barely recognize who you're staring at.
Your reflection is that of a woman. Your face looks almost the same, but it's taken on feminine qualities. Beyond that, you have an ever-growing head of hair that's getting darker in color as you watch. What horrifies you the most are the bulges in your shirt, which you can feel in your own body. Somehow, impossibly, you're turning into a woman!
You reach a thinning hand to your crotch and fail to find your penis. A strange feeling within you tells you it's completely gone, replaced with its internal female counterpart.
Your bangs fall thick in front of your face. You try to brush them out of the way and clear your vision, but they persistently fall back, refusing to be held behind your ears. The rest of your hair has turned a rich dark brown, and smoothly slides down your entire body. It's actually piling up at your feet! The color and texture of the locks reminds you of chocolate. A chocolate cascade.
"No way," you whisper into the glass. The glass fogs with your hot breath for a split second, then clears.
Your clothes begin crawling on your skin. You look down and see they're reforming. Your shorts merge with your shirt and change into a luscious red dress. The outfit is sleeveless, with spaghetti straps at your shoulders. It hugs your perfect feminine frame tightly. The sides are split open, revealing shapely legs. The remaining front and back flaps of fabric reach to your knees. Your shoes have turned into red high-heels, and your socks into smooth thigh-high leggings. You can feel a bra and panties snuggling your breasts and crotch.
Your hair is at least seven feet long. You have thick, long bangs that obscure your vision, but not too much to blind you. Your face is well made-up, with bright red lipstick. As you lick your lips, you taste the chocolate from earlier.
Your confused mind fixates on the taste. That has to be it. The chocolates you ate must have changed you somehow. It's impossible, but you can see it with your own eyes. Maybe you can go back to the shop and change back to normal.
You start walking back the way you came. With each step your stride becomes slower, more sultry. You don't even realize it until you notice many of the men walking by you giving you hungry stares. Even the women that pass by look you over, if only because your richly colored hair is so long that it drags on the concrete.
You wonder if you should first get your hair cut, or at least put it up in a manageable style. You then wonder if you should find a less revealing outfit. Your thoughts slowly drift farther and farther away from returning to the candy shop. Eventually you pass a couple of bars and begin thinking about picking up a hot date.
Finally, you make up your mind...