The world around you spins slowly. You feel as if you're floating on water circling a drain in slow motion. You almost lose your balance but manage to catch yourself just before you keel over. Your legs feel lighter and more agile. What surprises you the most is the sudden feeling of the open air on your legs. It moves up to your knees, and then with a gasp you feel a breeze pick up and blow against your inner thighs.
You look down in shock. Somehow, your legs aren't your legs anymore. They've thinned out and lost almost any sense of fat and muscle. The skin is smooth, hairless, and a light bronze color. You can hardly grasp at what's just happened to you, and whatever it is hasn't stopped. Your pants have been reduced to rags. A single wide swath of cloth hangs from your waist. Behind you hangs another long, thick shred, waving freely in the breeze. The rest of your pant legs have vanished!
You cross your knees and push the remaining fabric into the space between your legs. You look around and realize you've drawn the attention of a couple of deli patrons. You gulp at the fear that things are only getting worse. Those fears are realized as you feel something moving in your crotch beneath your hands. With a mildly sickening feeling, your member is slowly retracting into your body.
Now you feel your shirt sleeves creeping up your arms and the fabric around your chest tighten. Looking down once more, you see two bulges growing within the shirt and push against your arms. You can feel their weight increase with every rapid breath, and a heat rises inside you as you realize what these things are.
The sleeves completely retract into the shirt, exposing your shoulders. Your arms have thinned and lost any sort of masculine definition, and like the rest of your skin, have turned color to match your feminine legs. Your shirt constricts further around you and has slowly changed color to a brilliant red. You feel the back split open, exposing your backside from the shoulder blades down to the waist. The bottom of the shirt fuses with what's left of your pants, which have turned red as well, to form a single tight-fitting dress.
The culture of the dress is recognizable from the two flaps of silky fabric that hang between your legs, dangling almost to the ground. You look at the broach clutched in your sweaty hand and start to see its significance. With hardly a thought, you bring it up and attach it to the dress just underneath the small choking collar it has grown around your neck. Following down from this at a diagonal is a seam, demarcated by black piping and fastened every inch of the way by cloth-covered buttons smaller but similar in shape to the broach. The seam ends under your armpit where it meets the right edge of the dress.
You pant, both for the shock of what's happening as well as the enormity of the new sensations flooding your mind from every inch of your changing body. Your breasts continue to grow, stretching the minimal fabric to its limit. The splits in either side of the dress separate further, traveling up your hip and exposing more and more of your gorgeous, full thighs. You still have your hands clamped firmly between your legs, knowing that now more than ever there was a good chance even the slightest wind would brush aside that long red front flap and present onlookers with a shot of your underwear...which you assume are panties no more modest than your dress.
The red silk dress is now straining to contain your exaggerated hourglass figure. Your D-cup breasts push the fabric almost to its limit, and you can tell there is very little left of the dress dedicated to keeping it on you. What's left of the fabric in back of the collar is split above your shoulder blades and tapers into straps that wrap under your arms. You think your tight collar might actually be choking you if not for the stretching force of your breasts pulling it from the front and, thanks to the underarm straps, the back simultaneously. The only other securing part of the dress is where the splits begin, right at the bottom of your ribcage. It's the only area save the collar and its underarm straps that still wraps around the back of your torso. From this part hangs the long back flap that rests against the back of your legs.
You hear hushed voices expressing surprise, fear, and astonishment. You can't bring yourself to look up and see how many people have stopped to stare at your impossible transformation and your way-too-revealing dress.
New changes begin in your feet, and you actually feel somewhat thankful for a reason to continue looking downward. Until now, your shoes and socks have remained the same. Now, you see the socks darken into black pantyhose that quickly travel up your legs to your mid-thigh. Your shoes shrink and turn into pointy-toed red pumps with two-inch platforms in the toe and eight-inch stiletto heels. You also notice a shadow creeping up the V-shape your arms make over your bulging chest, and finally pull your hands from your crotch to see that you now sport black silk gloves that go all the way from your fingertips to just a few inches below your shoulder.
Tiny pinches in your ear tell you that some kind of earrings are now fastened to your earlobes. You flick your head and feel them dangle against your skin.
Then, in a sudden rush, your entire head tingles. Like a bed sheet thrust into the air and slowly drifting downward, a cascade of shining hair falls around you. You hear a number of admiring "ooh"s in response. The hair is as black as night and as smooth as the silk in your dress. Every strand is exactly long enough to brush your ankles.
You stand there, breathing heavily from the suspended anxiety of it all. You aren't familiar with the female-sounding breaths that gasp out of your mouth. Full awareness of your situation hits you now that the changes seem to have stopped. You're trapped in the body of an Asian woman that would do very well to make a living as a magazine model. What's happened to you is understood, but what is going to happen now is an enormous question mark, and you haven't the first clue what to do.
Finally too upset at the transformation to look at its results any longer, you throw your neck upward. This feels almost like a mistake, though, as it finally confirms what you've dreaded all along. Through your swaying hair you see almost three dozen people standing around you, and even more sitting at the sidewalk tables, all staring right at you with incredulous expressions.
Your mouth drops open. Air catches in your throat. You take an instinctive step back and nearly fall over in your heels. You think of running away, but clearly lack the coordination. The people still stare, an eerie hush now fallen over them as they wait in awe to see what is going to come next.