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Lingerie Soldier Papillion Rose/ Papillion Rose New Season and Tsubomi are the property of Shinji Tobita, Black Company/Reve. AYCO, Office F&O, Pink Company, Echigoya and their respective affiliates. Code: Rose Quartz The light was the only source of illumination in the warm silence, the shadows lying heavily while their lesser brethren danced and jumped before the screen; a portal of colour and movement as he watched. Davis Friedman, watching this latest offering from the Japanese networks, couldn't help but be impressed, though a sliver of his attention was drawn away to the download icon perched at the bottom of the screen. Next to the title, a small percentage number rose gradually up as he occasionally looked upon it. Churning away unseen, the download came closer and closer to completion; the files now seeping into the prepared folder the sum of much hunting, snooping and searching. The file he watched neared its end and a glance found that the download was tantalisingly close to one hundred percent; the programme he used proving to be faster and more reliable than he first anticipated. It was shortly after, as he shut the file off, that the number hit one hundred percent and he indulged a small smile; something he had waited upon for sometime finally arriving. Catching the hour, he sighed and decided that he could watch them through with enough time for some shut eye before things got too late. With a swift movement of the mouse, the file opened and he shifted over to the first download before it started. Easing back, a cheek was cupped in a palm and soon things were underway. All in all, it had been very fortunate that he found the site itself, and especially this particular edition of his long sought prize; subtitled and encoded from someone's collection overseas. The thing which now commanded his attention wasn't something that you could easily come by on the web or even purchase through more approved means as its history was shaky at best, never fully knowing when it may be produced again or not. The elusive sight was the series known as "Lingerie Soldier Papillion Rose" and its marginally more successful successor "Papillion Rose New Season", a ONA which was picked up for six episodes before falling through again. To say this idea was not entirely original was indulgent at best; the concept essentially a quasi- hentai satire of the much renowned Sailor Moon franchise with characters which would give most copyright laws a hard exercise if anyone wanted to pursue it. In truth, the idea had very uneasy beginnings at best. First something of an internet hoax after which an intended series was then piloted before merchandise was produced. This one shot was not followed up except by a new series later, and even then lasted only six episodes before returning to obscurity with the exception of a small fan base. Despite this, the misadventures of Tsubomi as the "Lingerie Soldier Papillion Rose", a pink locked, ecchi parody of a certain other magical girl character drew him to search out the series before finally hitting upon a site which had the requisite goods. Mingling hentai, parody and some more subtle forms of social commentary, the episodes worked their way through, occasionally raising a smile or some amorous thoughts, before ending with a address for the fan subbing group somewhere in the U.S. He sighed before peering down at the time. Yes, it was late and high time he was getting to bed. Contented with tonight's catch, he rose and stretched a little before closing the folder and shutting down the system. Padding off, the room now almost wholly swallowed by darkness, he went to a truly welcomed bed. It was soon that he added his dreams to that of his neighbours and rested on cool sheets. It was the darkness that, surprisingly, bore movement that night in the small hours. Deep inside the computer, something seemed to stir. The air within seemed to waver and distort before colour rose up. The faint essence was a rich, dark pink as it crept through the interior. The light was not fire as the machine's cool heart and silent brain bore no life but still it grew, seeping out of the casing to encompass it completely; a shimmering, bizarre spectacle before, with no sign of an end, it began to fade away until nothing was left. The computer was once again still and no evidence remained to mark what had happened; only the shadows bore testament and they would remain silent upon the air. {===================} With morning came movement; the familiar routine of several weeks flowing along as he prepared for work. During the summer months he had taken a much desired job at a local comic book store. The wall to wall pop culture being very familiar since his childhood. In truth, he enjoyed the ambience greatly and was eager most mornings as he pulled himself from the soft contours of bed. You couldn't say, with any conviction, that he was an Otaku but rather what he would call a "committed enthusiast" of sub-cultures, in which Japanese arts played a big part. It had been a great interest for a long time and was popular enough to be part of his employment so far. If he had any true complaints with these seasons, it was the warmth. The glare and heat of the sun gaining strength as the day progressed bore down on everyone, something that irritated him to no end. These summer days were always too long, too bright and far too humid; a thought which followed him as he left his apartment. The old saloon opening, he started up and was soon on his way. The Friday traffic wasn't too bad and soon he searched out a parking space; the store not far off as he locked the car. Thankful the place was in the suburbs and not too close to the city, he passed through those walking by and entered. The door chiming as it closed, he eased through and checked in with the manager. The young guy accomplished his many and varied tasks quickly and soon found himself behind the cash register. His tallish height and healthy, if ill defined, physique was a regular sight among the other staff members and customers, a well liked individual, though today, despite relative normality, something seemed......off. As the day passed, he seemed to be ill at ease for some reason. It was a distant, ineffable feeling that drew his thoughts only to remain beyond him. Setting about his routine, he dismissed the sensation and continued on. The choice of breakfast, lunch or perhaps the air conditioner that seemed to have a life of its own were the likely culprits as fingers danced over the register keys. The late afternoon brought a strong surge in customers and he watched a few regulars, with many kids and strained parents, browse the selections on offer; the hustle and bustle making good business as the takings for this day were tolled up. The humidity remained even as the day nudged past five and he uttered a silent prayer that the gremlin infested machine above would finally be fixed next week before someone fainted. The last small jobs now done, he noticed that the light had started to wane as the sun slipped from the sky; the first colours of twilight seeping into the dark blue with violet and carmine. His shift over, he had the weekend to look forward to but not after he had a few things to attend to first. Leaving, the close warmth lingering, he popped the car door and was appalled at the heat before finally pulling himself inside and opening the window. Driving back, he arrived and soon readied a shower. The spray returning some vigour to his flesh, he readied for the night. A change of clothes, a casual selection, saw sneakers exchanged for sandals, the heat prompting the change as with his other attire. Preparing dinner, the meal was soon gone as he turned to where he was going tonight. It was his hope that a real meal would see the strange sensations gone, though they seemed to remain despite his best hopes. Dismissing the feelings once again as he got ready, he wondered, if in fact, they had gotten stronger since earlier today. Maybe it was just a sign to take things easier or perhaps some latent allergy he had going, but whatever the case he put it off as he left. The sky much darker now, he swung back to the store for some evening browsing on his own time; a nod from the guy behind the register and soon he was perusing the latest additions to the manga line up. It was soon later, peering at some new, glossy work that had arrived this morning, that the sensations stepped up considerably, a small but painful shift within that drew a flicker of pain and a soft disorientation. Still for a moment, he steadied himself and put the volume back; dully scratching his cheek as he wondered if he should just sleep tonight off. Not long after, the pain grew again and he felt the faintness cloud his senses before he resolved that maybe he should get something to drink before thinking of going on. {===================} Before leaving, he scratched once more and it was a few moments after that he noticed something. Raising fingers softly to his jaw, he found it without its usual sprinkling of stubble. On the way to his car, he wondered if he had shaven earlier; the idea possible as he jumped from one routine to next before going out. Dropping into the driver seat, a few purchases in a bag joining him in the passenger, he raised a can to his lips and drained it; momentarily perplexed by the little mystery before he felt confident enough to set off again. There were a few bookstores that usually got new stock in around this time and would be the next to visit before the night was up. It had become a habit of sorts to rest in the caf? housed by the larger of the brand names and was something that he found to top off the working week before the weekend proper. His steps found their way and soon the glass flowed past; admitting him into that cool, busy world of the store. Uniformity as the order of the day, he passed through the familiar isles and up the elevator as an electronic voice pronounced a sale in cookery literature of up to half price. Passing through another floor and rising up again, he found himself on the desired level. The nature of the books on sale switching swiftly to sci-fi and fantasy, a quick glance finding a few new works by a favoured author or two. The rows eventually yielding to the desired manga, he noticed a few guys already there. Having grown familiar of a few faces, he wondered if they were new, the thought disrupted by a pained sensation that seeped from within, his features tensing as both anger and concern sparked in his mind. The pain deeper and longer than before, it crept forth and seemed to entwine itself through his flesh; sinking into his limbs as he stifled a soft groan. As if to further punish him, the faintness followed; the sound of his own breath seemingly heavier in his ears before, thankfully, it faded. A curious thought brought both eyes around and discovered no onlookers as he continued to search for anything new; a conviction guiding his hands faster as he resolved to take things more promptly tonight before going straight home. As it transpired, the rest of his search was uneventful as he found the assorted works and paid for them yet, more secure in his thoughts now, he indulged a small trip to the caf?; the rattle of cups and the sound of a wheezing coffee machine filling his ears as he sought out a place to sit. Having located a small table, he made his order and set the steaming cup down. After a few moments of sorting through his purchases, he carefully raised the cooling vessel to his lips and drank; drawing it back with a contented thought as he turned to the world around, the ambience of shifting colour, talk and the aroma of coffee beans inspiring a soft smile. Skimming through a few pages, the cup raised to his lips, he blinked and struggled to swallow before quickly setting it down. The strange pain that had haunted him before returning with strength as it welled up from within; uncoiling in his chest before a heavy pressure began to grow upon him. Steadying himself, careful not to seem alarmed even as fear swirled within, he chanced a cough and eyed the distant bathroom sign. Rising with tight lips, his thoughts wholly upon reaching that cool sanctuary, his steps took him far as the sensations rose again; his breath sundered as his world grew faint. It was good fortune that he spied a stairwell and turned behind its heavy doors before staggering and yielding against the wall. Pressing against the cool stone, he stifled a groan which tore up from his lungs as the seeming weight bound down upon him. The force was intent upon crushing him in its grip as his skin grew tight and the rich, wet sound of bone shifting in its fleshy sheath filled his ears. His face twisted in agony, any cry that would have come was buffered behind clenched teeth as his eyes crushed shut and his body's torture peaked before, with something like surprise, the pain faded quickly; leaving him hanging against the wall with one arm wrapped across his chest and his senses in turmoil. Soon the world came back to him, bleary eyes revealing that his trial had gone unseen and, hopefully, unheard as he remained to reflect upon the past few moments. Rubbing a strained visage with moist hands, he collected his thoughts and pulled himself up before taking a long, slow breath; the rise of his chest marked with a twinge of pain as he prepared to leave. As he motioned for the door, a rich, acute sensation brought his eyes down to find his hands; the familiar shapes seeming to tremble with flickers of pain. Weary of another attack or episode of whatever had laid him low, his thoughts of hurrying back were thwarted as, beneath his unbelieving gaze, a strange change was wrought. It started as a small discolouration, but soon spread through until, with disbelieving eyes, he watched it consume them completely. The faint light illuminating his nails, once dull, now masked under a layer of lustrous dark pink. Weaving them back and forth, the impossible made real, a echo of that same feeling brought his head down to find a equally perplexing sight; the toes nestled on sandals now sporting the same immaculate pink. His face distorting in dull intrigue, he returned to his fingers, still bearing that same coating, and tried to reassure himself that he wasn?t going mad. A stray thought lowered his sight and found a trick of the soft light that was much more. His arms, once bearing the mark of dark hair, were now apparently smooth. His touch revealing what his eyes could not wholly comprehend, it was the smooth, warm contours that appeared slimmer which compounded his fright. In the gloom of the stairwell, his fearful expression did not dispel what he saw but it was a fleeting remembrance which compelled him to think. In his agonies and revelations, he had lost track of time and would need to head back quickly to avoid suspicion. Stemming his fear, he gently eased the door back; a quick glance finding no accusing faces or inquisitive voices. The caf? was still quite busy and he strode wearily back before slipping into his seat; the belongings untouched while the beverage had cooled. Knowing that he couldn?t be sure if someone had noticed his behaviour, he made a pretence of sipping the now seemingly stale liquid and packing away his book. It was something in the corner of his eye which availed him of another?s gaze. An older couple turning back to their conversation as he glanced, hushed voices mumbling about his appearance. {===================} This sparked self-consciousness as he found just how distinctive the nails he was trying to hide could be; the colour quickly hidden as he curled his fingers. Knowing he had to get out quickly before he was waylaid once more, his thoughts were pre-empted as the pain started to turn in his chest; his heart shuddering as he tried to keep a calm expression. Grasping the bag, he stood and snaked through the tables until the door opened. Praying he wouldn?t be consumed by it, he steadied his resolve and made it to the main doors; a fleeting glance finding the windows streaked with rain as he emerged into the world. It seemed the humidity had overspent itself and the overcast sky opened up upon those below. Weaving through the rain and those around, trying to stem the pain and rising fear with a shred of discipline, his path soon led to his car. His steps dull on the wet concrete, he fumbled for his keys and slipped inside. Finally away from prying eyes, he tossed the bag aside and leant forward to clasp the wheel; steadying his breath and thoughts while trying to make sense of what he had felt. While sitting there, he wondered why his clothing had suddenly seemed less fitting; as if they had been over worn or he had lost stature??? That thought clung inside his mind before pain reminded him of its power, a gasp as his body laboured beneath the pressure and was then released as he struggled to contain it. Rising with tired eyes, he spotted something in the mirror and it wasn?t long before he wrapped slimmer fingers around the plastic and forced it down. The glass found in his usually dark hair something odd, something that should have not been there from the start. Startled eyes discovered a curl which appeared to be dark red in colour; distinct from his usual tone and alarmingly alien. Shifting fingers through it, he soon pulled them away and stuck the key in the ignition; the car pulling away amid the summer shower as its owner fought the incredulity of what he had seen. The heavy, constant rhythm of the wipers and the incessant tap of the rain above only adding to the feeling of claustrophobia, he gripped the wheel and steered mechanically through the night traffic. Fearful of letting his thoughts wander, he focused upon the road until the familiar signs of home appeared; a red light bringing the vehicle to a halt while the pain surged once more, shoulders shuddering as his head drooped almost upon the wheel. The grinding of teeth eventually gave way to heavy coughing before the distant red phantom turned amber then green, eyes riveted upon the wet world as his foot pressed down. Turning into his street, he fought the sudden spike of fear as something seemed to sift through his scalp; hair creeping from his head to brush and tickle his ears. Not daring to lift his fingers away, he wondered if he should forget about this and go straight to the emergency admissions but then what? What would they do? What would he say? Was this even real and not some illusion inspired by a heat cooked brain and if so, what was it? Once he got back he would rest?.yes, just drop everything and rest until he could pull him self together then be certain his next stop wouldn?t be a psychiatric ward. At last turning into the sidewalk, he stopped and rested; one hand clamping across a heavy, moist brow only to find longer looser strands plastered there. He was about to chance a glimpse into the mirror when his old enemy made itself felt; the sudden force bringing him back into the seat while a hand tore at his chest. Fire igniting in his stomach as it heaved, icy fingers travelled beneath his flesh, his bones and joints seemingly ground between stones before it worked its way into his back. Wavering beneath the pressure, he could hear the segments being squeezed as a hand fluttered across the dashboard for support. Through wet eyes, he could make out in his agony things moving beneath his skin; small pulsations in his flesh which drew away the tissue beneath, the length of his arm seeming to grow slimmer as the fingers twitched. Praying for a moment?s respite, the pain began to dull but he knew it would return soon; breathing deeply as he discovered his shirt now folding around his waist while his pants had stretched, he shook his head, the loose locks now shifting across his neck and ears, and assembled his thoughts. Knowing that another look in the mirror would be beside the point, he reached over and grasped the bag with a, increasingly alien, hand. Pulling himself from the car, the door closed and he tread forward only to find what was once fitting now slouched upon his frame; the shirt larger while his pants unmistakably slid from his waist; the cuffs starting to pool around feet that, increasingly, he couldn?t believe were his. The gap between his toes and the ridges of his sandals new while the digits were now smaller, hairless and still tipped with that unnatural pink. Stepping forward, the rain heavier now, he shoves the lobby door open and proceeds inside. Soon, after climbing the stairs, the door shuts and he pulls himself to the bathroom. Tossing the bag on the living room table as he passes, the young man slips into the small room; the light seeming too strong as he flops onto the toilet seat and wraps his fingers around his head. The pain growls within and he tries to muffle a gasp before something begins to shift within; the sound of his entrails pulling at each other a prelude before he quickly yanks himself up, presses down on the sink and sprays what little he had for dinner. The cool ceramic uncomfortable beneath his hot flesh, he washes the remains away and turns, only to regret it. The person in the mirror is, yet isn?t him. A much slimmer incarnation of himself, and smaller too, peers back; their expression one of dull fear as his eyes rise further to his hair. The mass is longer now, the first discolouration now having spread through until it is wholly carmine, but even then something is different. In this now crimson crest, he finds a few strands of some lighter colour going all the way back to his scalp; the streak almost a dark pink as wide eyes close. He backs away, his thoughts numb, until forced against the wall; the sensations almost too much as he nearly falls, a warmth washing through his pained visage until the force recedes. The attacks coming faster and stronger, his mind desperately desires rest or release from this inexplicable malady as thought tries to fashion answers from base chaos. Rising up, his breath returns but with something else; his tongue catching a faint flavour before slipping behind his teeth. The taste a little sweet, he turns to the mirror and finds another affront to his sanity. Lips that are his now glisten with wet, lustrous pink; the disease having secreted lipstick which now marks his otherwise taunt, moist and ill expression. His hands trembling, one shifts through longer hair before he almost falls out of the bathroom, traipsing down the corridor before arriving in the living room, now in twilight. His mind spluttering beneath what he has felt, he tries to understand this as someone may try to grasp some ancient riddle but any answer simply melts through his brain like water. {===================} A mind imperilled, a memory pops but it is of little help. Faintly recalling that a neighbour?s dog nipped him a few weeks ago does not explain this? If? if it was lycanthropy, wouldn?t you need a wolf? And if the pet was diseased wouldn?t he have seen some symptoms a while back? Scrambling for answers which remain misty, his thoughts brace themselves as the power once again visits itself within him. Growing, crushing and eating into his flesh, a thought to lie on the couch is in vain as his steps waver and he finally collapses. Flopping on the floor, his senses are scrambled as the ailment takes him fully, not ceasing or recoiling if resisted, while he can only endure what is to come. The pain arcs through his spine, forcing it to scrape together as it is shaped anew. He can feel the presence press his shoulders together as they dwindle and a new pain wraps itself around his arms once more, the flesh shifting in concert as they wither. Seemingly, many hands lay upon his chest; the invisible attackers eventually rupturing the bone as it yields beneath their touch. The tightening chest draws his heart into furious beats as he gasps for air, the harsh sound erupting from his lips born of terror. Beset by the desire, he weakly turns, feeling the new itch in his scalp turn to weight upon his neck and ears, and lies prostrate. The pain twisting into his legs, he can only arch his fingers upon the carpet as the bone and muscle erodes. The pain in his feet crumpling them into smaller shapes while toes shrivel and new arches break. Within, a storm begins as his stomach bloats, shifts and sinks as the tissues beneath are shrunken; each pulsation smaller as the flesh melts down into firmer slopes. The tumult has not yet finished as new horror unveils itself; a painful heat in his genitals bringing terrified eyes down quickly under a longer fringe. What begins as a hard kneading turns to twisting agony, as if unseen fingers are trying to squeeze them like ripe berries. With each spark of pain they shrivel, gasping and moaning as he claws at the floor, until the heavy, almost rhythmic, sensations within begin to pull them forth. Feeling them sink away like small beads, he utters a guttural moan as his member is infected with the same tight pain. The power?s grip growing terrible, the length of flesh grows erect against his pants; the stiffness only accentuating the pain before the climax as the affliction crests around the head. Suddenly tiring, the member grows limp but the heavy draw of the new orifice below cannot be overlooked. Tossing his head to and fro, hands flail before grasping his shirt, soon giving way to the loose belt and waistband as they are pulled apart. Open now, the zipper parting, smaller hands dive onto his boxers and pull them forward. It is there he beholds the sight of something nigh on impossible as his length dwindles. The organ withering beneath the design of this power, eyes grow large and he cries out in shock; one hand reaching forth to grasp it as fingers close around the defeated flesh. His touch cannot help though as its withdrawal is relentless, the moist, tender shaft sinking between his fingers like a sausage being sucked dry of its meat. Finally he loses grasp of it and it is swallowed by the recess; pain triumphant as he gasps with impotent fear and slips back once more. The pain again follows change as he can feel, even hear the moan, gurgle and warping of organs as his body is twisted into accepting a new shape. Unintelligible sounds leave his throat as the forces gather in his back. A deep moan marks the agony in the base of his spine, tender muscles helpless as they are tugged and convulsed. His hips bucking beneath the pull, the pain peaks as bone shifts. His hips parting outwards, the sound is deep and tortured as they press against his clothes. Stretching out as they form a wide valley, his struggling is rewarded as the tearing stops, but this is only momentary as something else begins to stir below. A deep pain marks his posterior as he feels something pressing inside the masses of flesh. The skin beginning to spasm, a torrent pours into them, as if the mass bears the displaced tissue from his previous agony. It is not long before it happens, one then the other, as both begin to expand; engorging out as they swell and soon draw the seat of his pants tight. Feeling the shift beneath him, there is nothing to do other than ride out the pain as the orbs press onto the floor. The bulging flesh pulling his boxers up and sinking the seat between their mounds, his pants distort under the strain as, thankfully, they halt. The misbegotten man can only wonder how this came about as a truth flutters behind pained eyes. Within, the surge of pain concentrates into spirals upon his chest; drawing deeper and deeper as he rivets his gaze upon the shirt, his chin pushing down as a realisation of what may come dawns. His nipples sting against the veil of cotton as the skin distorts and grows, the areolas stretching as they become sensitive. The shifting flesh heralds a new pain as they begin to grow; stretching further and further, bubbling out as the protrusions become burgeoning mounds. Newly large, they are pert and high as the cotton is pressed to mould itself above the bosom. Uttering painful rasps as their growth distorts his skin to new heights, the weight is unmistakable as woeful eyes behold the change. This spectacle is soon closed as another sensation seeks to take him still. The heat which seeps into his scalp soon turns to a rich pain as discoloured locks, never his own, pour from his head; the invasion spilling across his back, shoulders and into his vision. The crackling, searing sensation grows and he cannot resist, hands sinking into the mass to clutch at his scalp. The gesture is futile however as he is drawn away quickly by a sharp pain in his fingers; a gaze now finding that pink fingernails, which so perplexed him not long ago, are now assailed by a sharp spark of pain which sees them stretching out. The growths are watched as he can do nothing, fingers bearing their new protrusions into his palms while the alien tresses shift and curl around him on the floor. As the growth of the pink cascade stops, it is soon apparent that the cause of this doom is not finished with him. The pain sinking into his throat begins to pull and squeeze his Adams apple, the mark of masculinity finally growing soft before melting away, a burning sensation and cough allowing fingers to grasp a now smooth throat in surprise. The sensations now rise into his face, a pressure which brings searing pain as the powerful forces begin to press his visage. The skin shifting and straining as sweat flows, bone pulls together as smaller, more slender contours make their mark upon the man?s face. The maelstrom grows and soon he is compelled to shut now burning eyes, tears streaming, as a voice warps to a soft, rich cry in anger and fear. As he endures, it becomes too much to handle, his mind pushed to the precipice of madness as an unbelieving brain is overtaxed and his consciousness begins to darken. Desiring to be set free from this horror, the pain does not relent and his senses buckle as he groans in a hoarse voice before growing silent amid the twilight. The world is indifferent, the night outside unperturbed. The rain tapping the windows has been doing so for some time, the only sounds now heard being the downpour and soft, constant breath. The figure on the floor, dishevelled and forlorn, as a halo of rich tresses coat the carpet; their face half hidden behind long bangs as life once again stirs inside. Faint at first, long nailed fingers easing back as a groan escapes their lips, it is several minutes before enough strength has been gathered and they raise their head up. Lethargic, a pained body begins to slowly rise as they push themselves onto their side and sit. The tresses rising up, a hand is raised and, after a silent moment, clears their vision. Turning, the room is still and nothing appears out of place amid the shadows. Weak and tired, they know that something strange has happened and that must command their attention first. Pushing themselves up, the reactions are swift. Hair flows down their back and nails are felt beyond finger tips. The first few steps brings the collapse of their pants as the over long garment has swallowed their feet and now slumps to the floor. Disorientated, they dully step free of them and step forward, now feeling great, sensitive weights upon their chest; the shirt, despite this protrusion, still long enough to flap around their thighs. Spying sandals, they slip them on but, as with before, it is not the same. Large and ungainly, they feel like snow shoes; yawning widely before flapping back against shrunken heels. Kicking them off, the hallway leads to a portal of light; the bathroom still lit as the weary figure approaches. Trying to sort out a multitude of new sensations, a hundred questions spark behind their eyes as the threshold is passed. {===================} Noticing the floor colder than they remember, a swift turn culminates in a protracted silence as they see something in the mirror. Watching, this strange being mimics their expression, breathes as they do and is swathed in the vestiges of what they wore that day. Approaching, a numb realisation snakes its way through their thoughts as they find themselves staring with fear. He knows she cannot exist, should not exist; a fantasy, an eidolon, a shadow on the brain was all she could truly be, though she still stands their peering back. Testing what he knows should not be real, slender fingers and nails skim the glass as a face is observed. Behind the long pink bangs, not born of a cheap dye job but seemingly natural down to the root, he finds a face of Asian patrimony, though the eyes are a little larger than most. These pools of rich azure blink beneath the light, not betraying the truth that they were once brown and belonged in another?s face. Hands skim the soft, smooth and warm contours of the face, small, pert nose with sloping, high cheeks and full lips, glistening pink before they fall back. Stepping back, the contours of a richly endowed body lie beneath the ill fitting shirt. Delicate hands affirm this as they skirt the contours from slender arms, full breasts whose nipples grate the cotton before the slender waist is found. Pulling back the hem, boxers are disfigured upon hips and drawn tight on the back side; the crotch a sunken, empty mass between the spreading valley. A clear revelation beckons new fingers and soon, with slow, tentative tips, the flimsy waistband is passed and the truth is burned into their mind. Pulling back, they see the reflection and he knows who appears there. The parody of a well known franchise who he watched last night now made flesh before eyes that weren?t his anymore. She swallows hard and the world grows dim. Wavering, her tresses sifting around, she fears she may faint and soon leaves, her small stature hitting the light switch before unsteadily returning to the living room. Finding some sanctuary in the dark as a mind tries to divine some solution to this, she quickly lands on the couch; her frame stretching out upon the now larger furniture as pink locks spill forth upon the arm rest. Reclining heavily, hands lying limply across her sunken stomach, she fixes the ceiling with a cool expression. Even as her eyes are dulled with weariness, fear and pain, her thoughts remain unencumbered, rising and falling like an autumn leaf caught on the wind. Surely there must be an answer to this, some reason, some design which caused him to become this way. Knowing he watched??her last night, that could have caused some strange influence to overcome him. Despite it sounding ludicrous, it seems the only real answer to his current appearance. Sighing, the sound strangely light and feminine, she closes her eyes to ponder. Her breath stirring movement upon her chest as the mounds, unbidden except for the heavy cotton, shift beneath. Trying to pull the shirt straight, the sliding vestment rubs her newly tender bosom. His hands, folded back, move as a stray thought elicits a tentative response. Fingers cautiously approach the swell of a mound and, softly, skim the moulded cotton. The sensation rich and sweet, the second hand mimics its neighbour. The senses invoked by these simple gestures lures her thoughts, the phantom of pleasure dancing through her brain, while her caresses grow heavier. Intrigued, the pleasure inviting further reflection upon her condition, a hand parts from its habit and skims across the valley below. Dancing across the now slender, firm and soft contours, ill hidden by her male clothes, her hand slips into the valley of her hips, sliding along the firm surface of an inner thigh until the contours slope down. A little frightened, but fascinated, her hand eases the cotton back and finds the warm folds of her boxers. Experimentally easing down, fingers sink into the deflated, empty crotch and deeper until they stop. Pressing onward, she can feel the skin change before, finally, sensing very sensitive contours. Pressing against the polyester, she finds a fold of flesh as it yields to touch, the opening growing deeper as she ventures down. As her hand is guided, she finds her pleasure growing stronger; the wave of sensation resonating through her form as every nerve seems to echo with the power stemming from her new sex. Her hand upon her breast growing more skilled, she brushes the almost painfully erect nipple with her palm through the harsh veil while below, a new rubbing motion inspires a greater and greater bounty from her sex. Distantly noticing a new dampness seeping through to her hand, she continues as sensation drives her thoughts, all focused upon these strange, new and sweet sensations which he has only imagined before. The slither of ecstasy growing quicker and deeper, her body begins to shift, rise and move in harmony with her touch before it becomes focused upon this burgeoning feeling which grows within as it is richly nurtured. Flowing up, her throat bears a weight to her mouth and rich, wet lips part to birth a soft, high moan; the sound strange and alien to veiled ears, but infused with pleasure distilled from the flesh. The sweetness of this paints the world behind her eyes as the movements grow faster and stronger; the sound of breath and soft moans becoming constant between the movements of her hands when ,abruptly, a thought pierces the warmth and her eyes bulge open, hands rising quickly as if in shock, her body growing still. Looking down with fear stained eyes, her tender face etched with shock, she realises that she almost lost herself to what she found; nearly stolen away by the sweetness which has already drew a moist lustre on her flesh and dampened the crotch of now misbegotten boxers. Lying back, she holds her face in warm hands, the memory still too fresh to wholly contemplate, and tries to stem the fearful flurries of her thoughts. A few moments later sees her recline, calming herself, while trying to devise some strategy for what lies ahead. Absently noting that her pink tipped toes, even when arched down, do not even come close to the other end of the couch, she knows that the sobriety of her thoughts must take priority and, tentatively decides to sleep; her body agreeing as she anticipates her still very tired state. Getting comfortable, she blocks the outside world, closing her eyes until only the warmth of the room and the rain?s dance upon the windows takes her to a world of dreamless rest. The world beyond is as yet indifferent and uncaring of the figure upon the couch, cocooned inside her apartment until she awakes and must rise to the trials facing her. Many hours later, a figure sits at a computer; the screen?s light alone amid the darkness as azure eyes watch in search of that site she located last night. Her form exchanging oversized clothes for a robe which swallows her frame in warmth, her locks are pulled into a long, exotic pony tail as she sits upon a now larger chair. Her hands dancing on the keyboard with a little difficulty, her diminished stature allow for only her toes to perch on the carpet while azure eyes, now focused, scrutinise the screen. Her thoughts of the future and of a solution, the night promises to be a very long one... Fin.