You grab your car keys to your little red ford focus and your purse and makeup and walk
out of the dorm to the parking lot. As you are driving you think of the fun you could have
and an evil twisted smile crosses your beautiful glossy lipsticked lips.
After five minutes of traffic you arrive at northwestern mall and pull into the first available
spot. You strut confidently to the mall entrance with your long luxurious styled tresses
bouncing as you walk. The very picture of feminine beauty of young woman whose star is
in the ascendant. You smile wickedly, revelling in how it feels.
First you go to starbucks and order a latte. As you are paying you turn a hot hunky middle
eastern guy brazenly into an equally hot drop dead gorgeous sultry looking little
mediterrenean bombshell who doesn't miss a beat as she was converted. She grins
wickedly at you, recognizing a fellow sister in her ascendance, not realizing that only
moments ago she was a man.
You sit alone with your back facing the window, preening yourself, tossing your hair every
few seconds and making the blood hot of any male looking your way, for all the world just
like a young beautiful girl in her prime. Which you are. For now.
You consider what to do. You enjoy converting people, even though it's completely against
their will and their previous life and memories are wiped out you justify yourself by saying
you are creating beauty. You recall that everyone you have fully converted has ended up
almost a parody of beauty, that is to say, they were all drop dead gorgeous at the end of
the transformation including yourself. You wonder if that holds true with everyone and
determine to test it out. Part of you protests, remembering that you didn't ask any of the
people you converted if they wanted to be changed and that doing so was a grave invasion
of their privacy and absolute violation of their rights to their own body.
You dismiss these thoughts since who wouldn't want to be gorgeous, even if it meant
changing their gender, identity and very life and memory of what went before. You roll your
eyes. "Who wouldn't?" and you shake your head, your hair puffing out it's perfectly styled
tresses. You have decided to find out what will happen even if the people you start with are
ugly and to hell with consequences. The beautiful end justifies the means you think. As if
to make the point, you pull out a small vanity mirror from your gucci purse to inspect your
beautiful heart shaped face with perfect features. You inspect your thin, slightly arched
eyebrows for any hairs out of place, running your perfectly symmetrical manicured
fingertips along them. Smooth and lustrous. High cheekbones with a perfect complexion
and red, flushed pouty lips with rimmel lipstick. A button nose with a small skimp profile.
Just beautiful. You examine your big almond shaped emerald green eyes and flutter your
long eyelashes. You chuckle. Next a wicked thought crosses your mind. You squeeze one
nipple under your pink sweater and give out a dainty little sigh as a wave of pleasure
sweeps from one of your pert 34B perfectly shaped boobs through your chest and down to
your navel. Your breast rises and falls delicately with the sigh and you shift from one
perfectly shaped butt cheek to the other in your skin tight floral patterned pants. You
stretch out your perfectly formed muscular legs sweeping up in a beautiful arch to your
very feminine hips and give a little kick with your dainty feet, clad in pink princess chucks
with little embossed flowers on them. You sigh again and finish your latte, drinking it down
almost in a pose of a caricature of femininity with the little finger stuck out at a
provocative angle.
As you stand up and walk out, wiggling your hips in the most delicious way, you could
both hear a pin drop as all the men in the coffeeshop stop breathing and pretend not to be
looking at you while at the same time the various girlfriends and wives are furious at the
men pretending not to be looking. You smirk and walk out, slam dunking the coffeecup in
the trash with a gentle little arch of your wrist.