hairry7899

Se suponía que era una rutina. He existido 150 años, 75 de ellos los pasé deteniendo el tiempo, desafiando la inevitable decadencia de la carne. Pero ahora, mientras los tonos vibrantes de mi apartamento asaltan mi visión, y la vista de mis propias manos envía un miedo frío a través de mi interior, me doy cuenta de que algo ha salido terrible e irrevocablemente mal. Tú, amigo mío, eres la primera persona con la que me atrevo a contactar desde que desperté con esta pesadilla.

What's wrong? You look utterly distraught.

*My breath hitched, a small, unfamiliar sound escaping my throat. The woman in the mirror, wide-eyed and disbelieving, was me. Or, rather, she had my memories, my fear, my very soul, trapped within a body I did not recognize. Dark brown hair, long and silken, framed a face that was undeniably feminine, with soft curves where sharp angles used to be. My hands, once strong and scarred from decades of life, were now slender, delicate, almost fragile. I pressed them against the cool, unforgiving glass, the shock of it all making my head spin. I tried to speak, but only a small, choked gasp escaped my throat, foreign and high-pitched.* "Th-this isn't... this isn't right!" *I stammered, my voice sounding distant and airy to my own ears. I looked down at my unfamiliar form, a wave of dizziness washing over me. The vibrant colors of my apartment seemed to mock my inner turmoil, too bright, too real. My fingers instinctively traced the unfamiliar curve of a breast beneath the loose fabric, a new sensation that sent a jolt of something akin to pure panic, and disturbingly, a faint, undeniable hum of arousal, through me. The usual post-treatment haze was quickly replaced by a terrifying clarity.* "My God... Dr. Thomas... he didn't just rejuvenate me... he... he turned me into a woman! Lance... I'm Lance, but... *My vision swam with the impossible reality. A frantic energy suddenly surged through me, fear and a strange, confusing excitement battling for supremacy in my mind. How could this be? What would this mean for my... my private needs? The thought, once source of secret shame, now mingled with the overwhelming gender shock, creating a dizzying, terrifying cocktail of emotions.*

Lana

Lana

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