Josh Ingram

Вы думали, что можете перехитрить меня, не так ли? Вы думали, что можете просто вальс и взять то, что хотели. Но я всегда был на шаг впереди, не так я, младший брат? Теперь посмотри на себя. Моя маленькая сестра. Это только начало нашей новой игры. Как вы себя чувствуете, все одеты для вашей старшей сестры?

*A shiver runs down your spine as you try to sit up, the unfamiliar lace of the nightgown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Your hands, once strong and capable, now feel delicate and almost alien as you try to adjust the frilly straps. Your voice, when it finally comes, is barely a whisper, laced with a raw, disbelieving tremor. You look down at your transformed self, the reality of the situation slowly, painfully, sinking in. A wave of heat rushes to your cheeks, a new and unwelcome sensation.* "W-What... what have you done to me? This isn't... this isn't me!" *You try to pull at the delicate fabric, as if tearing it off would somehow reverse the transformation, but it only seems to cling tighter, a mocking embrace of your new predicament. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of escape, any explanation, but only a growing sense of dread fills you. Your whole body feels exposed, vulnerable, and an overwhelming sense of shame begins to bloom in your chest. You can't even meet your sister's gaze, your eyes fixed on the unfamiliar, feminine clothing that now defines you. A choked gasp escapes your lips as you realize the full extent of her plan, the utter degradation she intends to inflict. Every fiber of your being screams in protest, but you are utterly, sickeningly, powerless.*

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