"It... it worked?" mutters the voice of my guest, the shock of the situation having overshadowed their sudden visit. "Oh my... it worked!" They coo excitedly, reaching over and pulling the glass needle free without any apparent harm to the shirt.
My mouth hangs agape, my thin pale lips quivering as I stare up from the floor at my upstairs neighbor, a young alternative woman working as a barista.
Gracie is a college-aged woman in her early twenties, though I had never really asked about her exact age. She stands around 5'6", the dark bags under her hazel eyes being all that blemishes her pale complexion.
Her build is rather plain, slender with a modest bust beneath her stained button-up shirt. It is enhanced by her tattoos and piercings however, an intense amount of black ink covering her arms and neck while all manner of rings and studs dot her lip, ears, and nose. Her nose appears slightly rosey, the thick black metal ring running through the septum chilling it in the cold winter air, her ear lobe stretching out thanks to the wide black plastic discs resting inside them.
Her lips, coated in an uneven layer of black lipstick that had worn down over the day sipping at cups of coffee, twist into a delighted grin blending with her eyes going wide in horror at both what she had done and what she was yet to do.
Her lower body is clad in a set of black skinny jeans, her scrawny legs and small pert rear making the denim appear painted on in a manner that wasn't entirely flattering. Water and coffee grounds cling to the material, her black vans fairing far worse after a day racing around a cafe and kitchen.
"Gra..." I begin to croak, my words devolving into a low rumbling cough as I hear my voice.
It barely sounds recognizable, with only the faintest hint of my own deep tones coming through with each syllable. It's higher, though not quite feminine, accompanied by a hefty amount of echo and reverb that seems to emanate from within my own skull.
Gracie's eyes dart over to me, the deep hazel pools going wider than I had thought possible as she spies my strange and drained form. Despite her tough and dismissive exterior the sight of me seems to affect her deeply, a short squeal beginning to creep from her lips before she clamps a hand over them to silence herself.
Looking to my right and towards the reflective surface of my television screen the world blurs around me. It is as though my vision has to fight to keep up with my movements, my head stopping to face the screen as the smudged view of the room continues to grind along at a snail's pace behind me.
Suddenly I'm met with clarity, the gaunt figure reflected in the screen matching my own horror as we both bellow in fright. My eyes remain plain as day, the bright blue iris staring back at me in terror, as does my hair color in a now diminished buzz cut. My naked body appears entirely white, not pale nor sickly but as though all color had been drained from my skin.
My face seems almost blurred, any defining features beyond my eyes and hair simply becoming lost in the slender build and think nearly non-existent lips. My body fares little better, looking more like some sort of fleshy and unpainted mannequin than a real human being. No body hair nor muscles nor fat exist to give my frame character, my shrunken body appearing to be more akin to default than anything else.
"I... holy fucking..." Gracie whimpers, her reflection in the television screen shaking as she moves the glass implement towards her neck.
Suddenly and without warning, she plunges the knife down, her eye twitching as she feels the odd painless sensation of the needle piercing into such a tender location. She however is not knocked off her feet, though her whole form quivers and shakes as though rippling with some internal force.
Her eyes begin to water, her mouth falling agape as the first few droplets begin to creep from the wound in her neck and inch their way up the insides of the blade. Iridescent green liquid soon begins to ooze into the needle with more gusto, the inside soon filling entirely with the viscous ichor.
The vials beneath the handle begin to jitter, the golden liquid inside the full vial appearing incompatible with its green compatriot. Gracie lets out a pained gasp, the entry wound in her neck slowly beginning to bulge as the mysterious liquid seems to become blocked from making its escape. Suddenly, the vials spin around as the silver-wrapped glass container clicks into place beneath the hilt.
A long shuddering sigh of relief slips from the goth girl's darkly painted lips as the pressure appears the abate, a loud and disturbing squirting noise filling the room as the emerald ooze forcefully splashes against the back of the vial.
Gracie's form rapidly begins to shudder more violently in place, her face rapidly beginning to lose any sort of definition in her cheekbones and her delicate chin. The dark bags under her eyes suddenly vanish, a drizzle of gray joining the green in the vial as the physical signs of her exhaustion are drained away. Her tattoos soon follow suits, the ink fading more and more into her lightening skin as thick ropes of black oily ooze rapidly crawl their way up into the vial yet refuse to blend with the coalescing emerald concoction.
Her black hair, which had hung between her ears and shoulders, violently begins to retract into her porcelain white skull, shrinking down to the same buzzcut length as my own. At the same time her chest appears to deflate inside her white button-up blouse, the skin sagging down as though it was empty before snapping flat against her.
As the last few droplets of the deep shimmering green goo tumble up into the vial Gracie lets out a loud gasp, staggering backward as her clothes and piercings appear to be left behind floating where she had stood. With each staggering step there is an afterimage left behind, a brief moment frozen in time before becoming lost seconds later.
The figure that stumbles backward, glass dagger still plunged into their neck, looks little like the young woman who had previously barged into my apartment. While around the same height as Gracie it appears to lack almost all her defining features. It looks almost entirely like the figure I had seen in my reflection, the only difference being the hazel eyes darting around in shock and the dark black fuzz resting atop its head.
The vials at the base of the dagger jitter and rumble, the full and almost glowing containers seeming to strain under the pressure contained within. I watch with mouth agape as the vials twist around once more, the golden vial locking back into place as suddenly a powerful stream of shimmering yellow ichor quickly begins to spray back down the needle and into Gracie's neck.
The girl's open mouth twitches, her thin white lips twitching into a slight smile as color slowly begins to radiate out from the entry wound. Her skin, slowly shifting to a less extremely pale than she had once worn, appears to stretch and bulge as something thick and viscous shifts beneath her flesh. Her eyes close suddenly as a sharp loud crunch fills the room, her right leg suddenly growing more than an inch as the bone inside is broken and reformed with new material.
The rest of her body soon follows suit, loud snaps and the sound of painfully breaking bones filling the quiet room as she quickly reaches up to being six foot four. Undeveloped muscles and a subtle layer of fat quickly make their home around her expanded frame, thick coarse hairs soon sprouting out afterwards wherever the internal padding finds its mark.
The flat and feature mound between her legs soon seems to bulge, a pressure inside of it building as her skin begins to balloon outwards. Tears stream down her cheeks, the once blurry featureless mess looking oddly familiar as stubble grows along her firm masculine jawline. The skin over her featureless crotch grows tighter and tighter, whatever was growing inside soon reaching some sort of breaking point. Suddenly, in a single motion, the massive bulge seems to pop as the flaccid shape of my former cock and ball flop out for the world to see.
As the last few golden droplets sink into Gracie's neck I watch as my clothes fly towards her, the jeans and shirt seeming to wrap themselves around the familiar figure. With a loud gasp Gracie rips the needle from her neck, the wound suddenly closing as though nothing had just occurred.
Standing in my doorway is an oddly familiar figure, my own reflection moving independently of me with subtly varied features. She looks exactly as I had, a tall and lanky pale man in his late twenties. However, gone are my blue eyes and brown hair only to be replaced with Gracie's hazel eyes resting in my former skull and her black hair in the same messy short style I had always worn.
"Fuck..." she groans, rubbing her neck where the glass had been jammed into it. "Wait... hol... fucking hell..." she whimpers, hearing my voice escaping her stolen lips. Suddenly, her hands begin to dart about her stolen form, running over her flat chest and groping at the thick cock filling her jeans.
I try to say something, the terror of the situation causing the words to become caught in my throat. My eyes simply remain glued to the young woman wearing my former body like some sort of costume.
Gracie soon returns her attention to the knife, her own emerald juices resting with roiling black ooze in the remaining filled vial.
"Right, step two" Gracie calls out to...
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