For a fleeting moment, your new body intrigues you. As hard as it is to believe, those are
actual female breasts attached to your chest which you gained within seconds. You can feel
the cold air of the dungeon on them, see them shift up and down with each breath you
take. Your nipples are hard, either from the excitement of the transformation or the
temperature.
But then your gut instinct comes screaming back. You've got to get out of this place. This
man is powerful and mad. Disobeying your gut instinct is what got you into trouble in the
first place. You're not going to make that mistake again.
Veccar stands between you and the large door. That's not an option. You whirl around,
feeling your long hair cascade across your bare skin and your breasts quiver from the
quick movement. The rift you entered from is gone, but there are a pair of old medieval
wooden doors surrounded by vines and bookshelves.
"Surely you're not thinking of running, are you Jason?" Your gut tingles as Veccar's voice
rings out behind you. While you have no desire to look back, he sounds almost bored as if
he doesn't expect you to actually follow through with your plan to make a mad dash for it.
It's now or never.
You run for those doors, stumbling briefly at your female body's different center of gravity.
Your hair is in your face and your breasts are bounding in unison with your pounding
heartbeat. In retrospect, keeping the shirt on may have made your breasts more
manageable and a running topless woman will attract a lot of attention regardless of
wherever you are, but it's too late now. You swiftly brush your hair out of your eyes with
your right hand and attempt to restrain your breasts with your left.
The doors are nearly within reach when you fall painfully breast-first onto the wood floor
and you're dragged backwards. Your higher-pitched voice lets out an involuntary squeal of
pain at the rough floor scraping the underside of your breasts. You twist around to avoid
the pain and see a vine coming from the floor, twisted around your sneaker.
"While I'd hate to scratch up a perfectly good specimen and her new mammaries," Veccar
sighs, "if you don't cooperate, Jason, I might have to make good on that threat."
Without thinking, you kick off your shoes, but more vines shoot out of the floor, sliding
their way to all parts of your body. Thorns hook into your cotton socks, your pants, your
hair, but you whip them away before they can get a solid grip. You slide your hips out of
your now vine-wrapped pants, losing a sock in the process but able to get back on your
feet and run for the double doors and slam against them.
They're locked. Veccar is laughing. Before you can loose all hope, you frantically struggle
with them, and suddenly, the doors swing open. You fall through the doorway, onto your
breasts again into a new corridor with a winding set of stairs. While you scramble to your
feet, Veccar is shouting something. As vines from all over the room close in on you, the
doors glow bright red and slam shut, blocking the room and the surprised Veccar's face
from view.
Silence. There's no sign of the vines following you. Veccar's voice is gone. You start
thundering down the winding stairs outside the locked door in nothing more than a single
sock and your boxers. What happened? Why did the door suddenly open? Is there someone
else, possibly another magic user, watching over you? Regardless, it's pretty clear you
better keep moving before Veccar breaks down the now magically enforced door.
You keep making your way down the windowless torch-lit corridor, one arm over your
bounding breasts until you reach another room with a series of labeled doors.