Boost of Confidence

--artwork by zhano kun--

Dillion, nervous as always, paced about outside the Switch Witch costume shop where he had made a purchase just moments ago. He was unsure why he was so anxious, what he had received surely was a mistake. Perhaps he was agitated about laying eyes on the gorgeous shopkeeper once more.

Anis was so sweet and sympathetic to his problems, he felt ashamed that he had been ogling her like a horny schoolboy. His shy, nervous, wreck-of-a-self could never muster a conversation with a woman for more than 5 minutes without freaking out, but it felt so easy with Anis. Maybe that was it; he was scared about how comfortable it felt talking with her, how much he was drawn to her, and the reality that he she was completely out of his league.

Dillion came to the store looking for something to wear that might raise his confidence for mingling at the bar tonight. However, he knew he was no quick fix. It was a fool’s hope. He looked malnourished, but with a chubby face, and greasy, mildly pale skin. Despite loving fashionable looks he dressed with no no sense of style—simple nonmatching shirt and shorts—laziness having taken him over. He had really fallen off the previous year and a half since his parents’ deaths. His parent’s being rich, he acquired a decent fortune, but that alone wasn’t going to help him get his life on track. Dillion had given up completely, today’s dream of meeting “the one” at a bar a last gasp for air.

Earlier, when he arrived at the store, he noticed that the sign advertised “life changing wardrobes”, and it looked like a place with tons of personality, costumes strung about everywhere in chaotic, eye-catching fashion. It looked like a wonderland of stylish garments of every variety, somehow organized amongst the chaos formed by walls of costumes and outfits hanging at awkward angles or out of antique dressers.

The shop owner, Anis, was immediately drawn to Dillion, and he to her. She saw Dillion’s faults immediately, a nervous man who couldn’t even walk straight when outside his element. Yet, she talked with him as if he were someone worthy of praise, of attention. She treated him with respect. Dillion on the other hand, couldn’t help scanning the voluptuous Anis in her witchly attire.

Anis had captivating, deep purple eyes that surely could read one’s soul, thick eyelashes fluttering above. She wore a draping, gothic style top with a cut midriff and short, goth-net sleeves. A tight fitting black-and-red, gothic skirt lingered slightly above her black, high-heeled boots. She wore an abundance of bracelets that jangled every time she moved. Her long, thick, blonde hair was puffed out considerably and fell all the way down her back to where it was tightly tied down right above her firm bottom. Her chest was... bewitching in its size.

Both Dillion and Anis ended up talking for nearly an hour. She poked and prodded at all his worries, leading him down a path of self-discovery she hoped she could help him see the end of. She revealed that Dillion had a love for fashion—odd for a man she commented—and a deep need to be admired by others. Admired not in just the superficial way, but for his, what he called, “pointless knowledge”. Dillion was a well-studied individual, but always sold himself short as being merely trivia smart, not book smart. Anis though, saw worth in him. She saw him as a classy individual who was in desperate need of a confidence boost. When she heard that Dillion was going to attempt small-talk with women at the bar that night, she jumped up in excitement. saying she had just the thing for him.

Surely this is a mistake, Dillon thought. He stood outside the Switch Witch shop holding the small box he had been given earlier. Anis told him to not open it until he was home and to trust her, but he couldn’t resist. What he found inside were women’s heels. They weren’t even good heels, plain and uninteresting like himself. Maybe Anis is mocking me. Oh, I shouldn’t go back in there!

Dillion finally mustered up the courage and rushed in, favoring his left as he walked with his posture slightly down. The anxiety of confronting Anis was almost too much.

As he reached the center of the rather large store Dillion timidly called out, “A-Anis? Um. Are you there? It’s me, Dillion? I… I’m sorry, I… I think there was a mistake.”

“Mistake?”

The skittish Dillion nearly jumped out of his shoes, as a voice from behind snuck up on him.
“Hah, Anis. You s-scared me!”

“My dear, I’m so sorry.” She said, producing a quick, concerned expression before her usual confident, alluring demeanor returned. “I didn’t expect you back so soon… or at all honestly.”

“I’m sorry. I, I just think that maybe there was a mistake made. You uh, you gave me heels?” Dillion said, confused over this silly misunderstanding. “I mean, I’m n-not saying they don’t look nice.”

“No need to sugar it up sweetie, they look like shit.”Anis said with brutal honesty. “Hee, hee.”

“So… then it was a joke?” Dillion asked, growing ever more confused and suspicious by the moment, his fingers fidgeting frantically while holding the box. He tried to calm himself in the only way he knew how, analyzing a situation and digging up some random kernel of thought to make light of it. “Like, there is the adage, ‘Good shoes take you good places’ but this... uh, heh. When I asked for a, uhm, boost in confidence… I wasn’t thinking of it so, uh, literally. B-Besides, I’m a man!”

“And?”

“A... uh come on. I mean sure, I said I love women’s fashion, but—”

“Come now dear, I saw you eyeing my heels collection as we talked. No need to be shy about it.”

“That’s not it!” Dillon said more confrontationally. “Look, I don’t like you messing with me like this. I like heels, okay, I admit! I admire how they look, but there not something I want to wear!”

“My, my. Look who is coming out of their shell? So bold taking me on like that,” Anis said impressed. “I had a feeling heels might unlock your potential.”

“But that’s not even, ugh. Look, can I just return these?”

“Sure, as long as your wear them once.”

Anis’ playful smirk mocked Dillion. He had to admit he was fired up and defiant, something he usually wasn’t, but this wasn’t what he imagined for himself in breaking his usual mold.

“F-Fine! I will!” Dillon said with a challenger’s smile, determined to fire back at Anis’ mockery. “Then you owe me, a full refund!”

Why was he playing into her hands like this? Was she right, that there was some buried curiosity he had for heels? No, it felt more like a still buried hope that this might solve his problems, that the heels might truly change him for the better.

As he pulled the footwear out of the box he thought, Get a grip. You don’t need to do this. Yet, he couldn’t stop. Anis had a strange way of pushing him out of his comfort zone. Maybe she really was a witch and had cast a spell on him.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Anis stopped him, waggling her finger like a mother to a naughty child. “Use the changing room dear.”

“Oh come on…?” Dillion responded, the rising spirit he had just gained sapped from him.

“I know you’re anxious to get into those heels, but I must insist. You want that refund, no?”

Accepting the conditions, Dillion embarrassedly shuffled into the changing room. It was rather small—not that he was expecting anything large—and had barely enough room for him to stretch his arms out. There were strange, decorated, cushioned walls with button tufts on all sides, aside from the door. An eye-catching zig-zag, red and dark blue carpet covered the floor.

Did she pretty this space up so it doesn’t look like a prison? Dillion thought with quick wit.

Anis pulled out a fashion magazine that prominently featured heels and began flipping through it as she waited for Dillion to finish.

“I can’t wait to see those heels work their magic on you Dillion. A new, confident you.”

“Yeah… sure.”

Dillion unenthusiastically took the heels out from the box. They were a plain black color with a hardly noticeable black, criss-cross pattern on the toe cap. The heels themselves weren’t very tall either; everything about the footwear looked unimpressive.

“These are ugly.” He derided.

“True. Their shine matches the wearer.”

“Why you! Tch.” Dillion couldn’t stand it anymore. He felt bullied, made a fool. He had to get into these eyesores quickly and get out of here.

Taking a deep breath, Dillion slipped into the heels. They were a tight fit, obviously not made for a man. He wobbled on his first few steps, but quickly adjusted his balancing technique. There was a slight pleasure in how they made him feel taller, but he wasn’t going stick around to admire anything more about this nonsense.

Walking to the door, he called out to Anis that he was finished and tried opening it. The door was locked. Thinking he must have turned it the wrong way, he tried again. No luck. Was it a faulty door knob? His attempts to open the door became more forceful.

“Uh, Anis? Uh, um, I’m done! You can… l-let me out now! Anis! Anis!”

His anxiety was hitting fast and hard. Anis was indifferent to his cries of panic, continuing to indulge quietly in her magazine.

Dillion began banging furiously on the door and continued working at the doorknob, which rattled with such intensity that it might break off. The air within the small space seemed thinner, as he gobbled up excessive amounts of air while freaking out.

Her eyes still glued to the pictorials of heels, Anis insisted with disarming intent, “Breeeaathe Dillion. You’re fine… everything’s fine.”

With slow breathes, Dillion calmed down. He shouldn’t waste his energy trying to bust down a door he knew he couldn’t. He leaned against one of the cushioned sides of the room and tried to regain his strength. As he ran through his predicament in his head, he hardly noticed that his feet were slimming down and settling more comfortably within the heels he had donned.

Dillion wriggled his toes, minute pricks disturbing his feet. It soon became too much to ignore, and he turned his gaze down to his feet and was shocked to see a thin black mass traveling up his legs. It was slithering out from the insoles of the heels, and it had already consumed his legs up past his calves. He could feel his feet being scrunched, toes trying to curl, but unable to. Muffled sounds of popping cartilage trickled out from his imprisoned feet as he felt his toes shriveling in size. Each foot was shrinking… and more! His arches rose and heels slimmed. Despite this, the heels remained firmly fit, as if they were shifting in size to keep their hold upon him.

Dillion stared silent and afraid at the faintly see through material climbing up his legs, now up past his knees. He launched towards the hungry heels to pry them off, but was quickly thrown forward—slamming into the padded wall—because his ankles snapped sideways along with his contorting feet. Completely off balance, he fell to his knees.

It took Dillion a few moments to gather himself. During which, he came to realize that it was some sort of fabric crawling up his legs. Pushing himself back on his feet—a hand on his knee—he finally grasped what it was by the texture.

This is… nylon. Dillion realized. The sight and feel was unmistakable. He’d never touched a woman before, but had perused through his mother’s closet as a curious child and became familiar with the feel of pantyhose. For many men, only a few times touching such idolized hosiery was enough to have the feeling ingrained within their minds. The sight of it would’ve been enough—close-fitted and low visibility within a dark-shaded, brown sugar surface that hid all blemishes of the skin.

Back on his feet, he was shocked to see how more delicate the tops of his feet were. He fit perfectly in the smaller heels, and his ankles seemed more finely cut and delicate. As the stockings continued rolling up his thighs they lightly massaged his skin, and Dillion saw the birthmark on his leg disappear. It wasn’t just hidden behind the veil of the pantyhose either, it actually disappeared. He soon felt his leg hair receding too. He backed into a wall in disbelief, watching his legs beneath the squirming garment become softer and smoother. The feel of the pantyhose became more comfortable as the changes went on, hugging and softly caressing his skin with each minute movement of his legs. Buried beneath mountains of fear and confusion, there was some part of Dillion that found the tactile input to be pleasant.

The silky, lightweight leggings suddenly began to constrict his legs, their light massage becoming a deep tissue assault. Dillon gritted his teeth while his muscles rolled about in obscene fashion beneath the fully formed, thighband pantyhose. Extra fat sprouted onto his thighs and they bloated. Dramatic pulsations threw off his balance once more and he was forced to lean his back against a wall. His mutating legs looked like their own living, breathing entity, inhaling and exhaling, shrinking and expanding at a rapid pace. Layers of fresh fat melded among a budding new musculature. Dillon couldn’t hold back anymore, and let out a shrill scream. He writhed about, his legs settling into a delicate new shape possessing a fine plumpness. It was a perfect mixture of tight, lean muscle and healthy fat.

Anis heard the frantic screams and smiled. She then chuckled and said, “Sounds like someone snapped a heel.”

Dillion’s screams died down, as the changes came to a sudden halt. He covered his mouth while he laid eyes on his new—he hated to admit—enticing lower body. His legs just below the hips now had the pleasing features of a woman under a smooth, colored veil. His calves looked less muscular, blending more with the gentle slope of his legs. His thighs settled into a nice shape between being too big and too thin. The pushup of the heels made his ankles' stylish mounds match well with the slender slopes of his lower legs. The sexy appearance of what was once his hairy male legs set off all kinds of alarms inside his head. Dillion was accustomed to seeing women in this kind of attire through his browsing of fashion magazines and online, but to see his own legs like this... These heels were beginning to change him in a way he feared fully admitting.

Still clinging to the hope that Anis would save him, he rattled the doorknob some more and pleaded for Anis to help.

“I am helping you dear.” She replied. “Nothing like a makeover to boost one’s confidence.”

“Why!? W-Why are you doing this!?” Dillion bawled.

“Oh Dillion,” Anis sighed, disappointed that he was being so fussy. “Tell me, what sort of clothing do you enjoy most on a woman?”

Dillion could care less about such a thing at a time like this, but the question unavoidably caused a brief glimpse of the truth within him. He always had a penchant for casual Lolita fashion. In response to his vision, the pantyhose came to life again and finished gobbling up his lower body. It covered everything up to just beneath his naval. He then witnessed his shorts shrinking and rolling up his legs until they became a thin, black band of clingy fabric. His maroon shirt was yanked towards the black material and began to fuse with it, being tainted with the same black, morphing into the same worsted fabric.

“Wait, no! I didn’t mean this! Stop!” Dillion cried out. He quickly realized that the heels were reacting to his brief mental response to Anis’ inquiry.

The constricting sensation from before returned, this time to his hips beneath the legwear and his tummy being consumed by a lengthening, black skirt. His shirt ripped into two pieces, the lower half traveling down and further coalescing with the skirt forming from his shorts, and the upper half turning white and little baggier. It wasn’t long before he was wearing a high-waist skirt. 

Suspenders fired up from the fluttering garment pushing on Dillion’s core like a vice, sliding over his shoulders and connecting back on the other end. The white shirt around the shoulders poofed up a bit, and the sleeves receded far up his arms. The women’s length sleeves then grew some decorative frills. A frilly bordered, button-up bib on top of the shirt appeared high on his chest. It had a lined pattern reminiscent of a homely, country style wear. Dillion’s fancy blouse stitched itself to the suspender skirt beneath it while a raised, frilled collar took hold of his neck. Red lace emerged from the material of the shirt like a seamstress was working it through. The rose red ribbon slithered around his neck and wrapped around itself in dizzying fashion until a big red bow rested neatly below his neck.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real? Anis please! Let me out!” Dillion sobbed.

The clothing was a tight cocoon being woven around him. Dillion dreaded the idea of the butterfly that might emerge.

“Not before you’re finished dressing. Trust me, you’ll look great.” Anis assured.

Dillion backed into a wall speechless. The outfit he was now wearing looked strikingly similar to one he had admired in a recent issue of Miel (a new Lolita fashion magazine). These damn heels were picking at his brains and warping his body to his tastes in women’s attire.

The hugging clothing pressed even tighter, and Dillon figured what might be coming next. His dick was suffocated beneath the nylon panties, his hips and ass flexing and jiggling so excessively he could hardly keep his balance. He pressed both hands against the wall in front of him to keep himself steady for the onslaught. The nylon then wrapped skin tight around his hardening cock, which was enticed by the soft, stroking material, and let it fully jut out from his body in all its glory. Instead of pitching a tent, the leggings kept a figure-fitting hold of it, no portion of his dick left untouched. His cock began bizarrely twitching about, the excited member moving in all directions like some giddy dog sniffing around.

Confused moans escaped from Dillion as he tried his best to fight against the teasing apparel. The skirt hugging his waist though was making it hard for him to breathe and think. He felt his body giving out, all that was compacted inside him ready to give way at any moment and condense.

Dillion trembled, a fissure traveling throughout his form. Small pops released from his spine, one after another. His gut was slowly compressing and flattening before his half-opened eyes. It appeared like the mass being shaved away from his stomach was traveling up his body towards his chest—a rolling hill of mass creeping closer and closer to a place he wished for it not to go. His frilled sleeves squeezed his upper arms and began to make a sucking-like motion, the frills looking like lips moving up and down a popsicle. The bulk in his arms was fading away, the bones beneath his skin becoming more visible around his wrists and elbows.

“A... Anis! N-NOO!” Dillion forced out. This was all a nightmare, a nightmare!

Then, for a moment, a dream.

He felt a twinge in his dick, as an image of a beautiful body twirling about in the outfit he now wore flashed in his head. She was stunning, confident, sexy, everything Dillion wanted in a woman; everything he wanted… in himself? Dillion’s eyes went wide not only as he felt everything about to release, but because he realized he had fallen prey to his own mixed up mind yet again. There was no way he should be enjoying this.

Dillon screamed in a mix of agony and pleasure, his body reshaping amongst a flurry of cracking bones and twisting sinew and muscle. His fingers danced about as the bones lost their manly thickness. His shoulders buckled down into a slight, slender, slope under the forceful yanking of the suspenders wrapped around them. The new bulk in his thighs thinned out a bit, giving him a pair of shapely, yet slender legs. His waist collapsed inwards, a modest hourglass shape pushing any excess fat up towards his cheat or down towards his hips and bottom. His butt exploded outwards, sending Dillon to his shivering knees. His convulsing ass cheeks firmed and lifted as they tried their best to contain the extra mass packing itself in. It was an odd sensation for him, feeling the extra weight pulling down on his lower back and jutting further out from his backside, pulling his posture with it towards a new path. Despite the heft to his butt, he could tell there was little chubbiness. They were smooth, pear shaped hills, cheeks pressed comfortably together enough to create a full, firm package. His bottom having had its fill, all the extra weight fired off to his sides to fill out his hips. The extra meat helped, as all his bones had broken down into a smaller, compact size. Dillion was shorter—though still above average height for a woman’s body—tender and thin now. The enticing flesh balanced things out.

Anis perked up from her reading as Dillon’s groans filled the shop. Looking pleased, she congratulated, “Beautiful work Dillion! Let it all out. Take the form of your truest desires; let your passions take physical form!”

Dillion couldn’t make out what Anis was saying, his mind far too entrapped in the chaos unfolding with his body and the strange rush of euphoria blinding his fear. His moans became more prevalent and warm—one might think he was enjoying it. It was hard to fight it off, his body working against his will.

The changes continued, Dillions posture along with his spine settling more forward while the mass from his waist traveled up towards his chest and pushed it out violently—emerging as a pair of sizable breasts. The baggier top to his outfit made sense now, needing room for his budding chest. The force of his tits pushing forward, tugging every ounce of fat they could from his upper body, launched him against the wall. The tits pressed flat against the wall and the next expansion sent his body hopping slightly up off it. Again and again, his breasts expanded, thudding against the wall each time like an airbag going off.

Dillion’s breasts became so full that they were too big for the blouse to contain and keep lifted. The black suspenders provided some support on the sides, making sure the large tits were kept squished together and centered, even as they spilled out of the top of the highwaist skirt. The flawlessly round orbs added a stark, bulging curvature to the sides of his torso’s silhouette shown on the wall before him. Dillion’s jugs pushed out so far that part of the bib on his top looked like a placemat lying flat on top of them. His body couldn’t take anymore and slid sideways down to the floor.

Dillion’s cock, which had been agitated during the entire ordeal, fired off ropes of cum, soaking the pantyhose. His body settled from the explosive changes, muscles twitching about with him in a haze and his dick still pulsating. Soft, breathless moans trickled out.

“Dillion?” Anis called out. “Dillion are you okay? Speak to me dear? What passions buried deep bubbled to the surface, hm? Did you feel your true self reach out?”

A confused Dillion tried his best to block out Anis’ words as he shakily made his way to his feet like a newborn. Taking a few moments, he looked over his body that appeared now as a slim, shapely woman with giant boobs from the neck down. He felt like screaming, but didn’t. A small smile appeared as he traced the contours of his new body and how perfect it looked under his fashionable dream clothes. It was a knockout bod!

“Wait! Augh!” Dillion said as he shook himself free from a brainwashed stupor. “I won’t let you trick me! This isn’t m-me. I... I l-love fashion but… But I just want to design it! No I… I only came here for help, with women I. What’s happening…?”

“Poor dear,” Anis teased. “You still haven’t accepted the fact that this is who you truly are. You love fashion. You have such knowledge and drive, but lack the courage to show it. You wish to be looked at with respect and desire, no? Am I wrong? This body, birthed by your own desires will give you all of that!”

“No, no, no, you’re lying! You’re messing with my head!”

“No Dillion, I am merely giving you a window into your soul. Think hard my dear. Think hard about what it is you’ve always wanted to be.”

Dillion felt his face beginning to twist and pop. His head and mind were all that was left, but he couldn’t submit to these lies!

He had nowhere to escape, no more strength to fight. All Dillion could do was struggle with the quickening changes. Struggle meaninglessly against the supposed truth Anis laid before him. Left with mostly his jumbled thoughts, he tried holding on to things that made him happy.

The heels had been waiting for this.

He thought fondly back to his mother and father. Both were upper-class and had a great sense of style. In his early teens, Dillion had a growing appreciation for how his parents handled themselves. He lacked confidence, but his parents were oozing it. They dressed in very fashionable wears, styles straight from Vogue.

Once old enough, Dillion moved out and had dreams of being a fashion designer. Perhaps it was because his parents were so dear and tentative to him during his hellish school days of being bullied that he felt drawn to how they looked and handled themselves. The more he consumed of the fashion world, the more it became a life’s passion for him. He wanted to be more like his parents and someday design his own outfits for them to wear. Just as he was prepared to make that dream a reality, his parents died, and it all came crashing down.

Dillion’s confidence and passion were cut down after their death. He aimlessly pursued minor art degrees until eventually settling on the delivery job he had now. He still tinkered with ideas for lavish outfits in his head, in secret at his home, but the drive was no longer there for him to take his dream seriously anymore. He continued to hope that maybe there was an easy way out of his rut, some way to change himself into something worthy like that of his heroes. He wished he could be as adventurous as Lady Gaga, as creative as Alexander McQueen, or as bold as Alice Auaa.

These thoughts of what could’ve been wore down Dillion’s defenses, and as he gazed upon his new body, a new path laid out before him.

This body, he wondered. This body…

His nose popped into a much smaller, delicate shape.

With a body like this I could command attention…

His ears rounded out and became smaller. The chubbiness of his face faded and was replaced by trimmer cheeks and a more pointed chin.

I want to be heard… to be respected for my knowledge and praised for my style…

Delightful, small, breathy moans made their way past Dillion’s softening lips.

His balls sucked up into his body, followed by loud squishy noises as his ballsack flattened and smoothed out. His balls shifted around inside him, his organs reforming into something far more feminine.

I was trapped before. Is this… is this who I truly am!?

His still present dick began to throb and shrivel up. His manhood burrowed inside his body, and Dillion welcomed it with a growing desire for his dream to become reality. He was becoming the dream girl, becoming that which would take him where he feared going. His confidence was soaring up from the pit of his soul—the shy, worried man he once was melting away beneath the heated pleasure of his true self.

“I… I-I feel it! Ahn!”

Dillion’s dick flattened between his legs and the head of it peeled open, growing in size as leaking, reddish lips of skin. Dillon flew forward in ecstasy and held himself by his arms against the wall once more.

“A-Anis! Oh! I can –f-feel myself s-s-slipping. Ahn!” Dillion moaned.

“Good Dillion, embrace it!” Anis cheered. “Fall into the flames of your burning passion. It is the real you erupting forth!”

“No, this isn’t! Can this… oh, fuck! This feels so gooood!” Dillion moaned. A new sensual, pleased female voice emerged.

“Yes Dillion, you are almost there!”

“Hah, oh. My head! Oh, oohh!”

Dillion’s face unleashed a flurry of snaps and cracks as the woman buried within finally emerged. His eyes grew wider and larger, peculiar blue pupils nearly rolling inside his head. Finely styled eyelashes, which looked more prominent on the outer sides with some mascara, gave him a sly, sophisticated look. His trimmed eyebrows gave off a youthful look. His lower lip was plumper than the top, an image of pampered beauty. It was all so amazing; his woman’s slit throbbing in excitement.

Dillion would no longer let anyone walk over him; he would get what he wanted. He was confident of that, sure of it!

“Hah, hah, hah,” panted Dillion, his excited breathing quickening as if leading up to some grand exclamation. “I, I’m, hoh, oh! I’m f-finally, HAAAHH!!

With her new self finally emerged, Dillion gave into the final throes of her quaking body, letting the crashing waves of pleasure consume her and wash away every last trace of her former, pitiful self. With a lengthy, fading moan she felt her new womanhood flood her already wet pantyhose, washing away the remnants of male cum dryly stuck to it. She recoiled, back against the wall, and sent both hands down in delight, underneath her skirt, massaging her folds. Her fingers crawled into her pantyhose and dipped inside her slick folds with ease. She clawed carnally at the rims of the cavernous space within, teasing out every last bit of joy to be mustered from her moment of rebirth.

As her body and mind worked towards a state of focus, her hair turned a vibrant shade of lilac, a fitting color for the head of the flower she had become. Her hair styled itself into something more alluring as well. Her bangs became finely cut and straight fashioned, resting just past her eyebrows. Dillion brushed away her bangs in a playful manner to test out the feel of revealing her attractive brows beneath. She was sure it’d prove a good tactic in capturing the hearts of others. Her hair fell shoulder length, curly near the bottom, silky smooth and lush everywhere else. She had side locks that fell past her shoulders a bit and curled much more dramatically, with elegance akin to cursive writing.

After gazing upon her new form, Dillion closed her eyes and lifted her head in silent jubilation—she knew all was right now. She felt more alive than ever, more confident than ever—the heels had worked! She quickly began daydreaming of the bright future laid before her, ready to tackle anything with a lion’s heart.

In response to Dillion’s newfound determination, the heels changed their appearance. The ugly footwear sought to match the shining beauty of its wearer.

The dirty, soot color of the heels turned a blinding white. The lips disappeared, opening up the heels down just above Dillion’s toes, revealing the magnificent slopes of her feet. A bit of blackish brown coloration remained on the toe boxes, and covered the insoles lining all the way to the back, where the heels themselves were also colored the same. A single white strap flipped over the top of each foot and locked into place with a gold, decorative buckle. The counter of the heels felt Dillion’s thirst for something more elaborate, and so a growth from the shoes slithered up the back of each leg and sprouted two cuffs that wrapped around the space between her ankles and calves. Dillion felt her height suddenly change and balance adjust and looked down to see the heels themselves pushing upwards and becoming more defined. Her arches were much more pronounced now.

1 inch, 2 inches, a little more! She celebrated. It was a literal boost of confidence as she relished in the increased stature the heels gave her. She felt unwavering in mind and body now.

With an amused smirk she raised her hands and commanded the last remnants of magic she felt fluttering within her. Her fingernails became a few centimeters longer, mini, flat talons resting at each tip. A rose red paint covered their surface. Dillion thought of herself as very much a rare flower, and with that thought a black hairband with a black rose attached appeared on her head, two large strings of lace fluttering down on one side.

Satisfied, Dillion brought her hand gently below her chin and giggled like a haughty queen as she looked down, impressed by her impressive chest. She gave them a quick feel. They were held firm beneath her blouse, but she could feel the massive heft barely contained—that if let free, would surely avalanche down towards the top of her waist. They were massive indeed considering the size of her thin body. She was shapely, no doubt, but only possessed just enough fat to not make her seem too much like a twig. She was a refined, beautiful thing, and her cherished tits were certainly the highlight.

Anis wondered if Dillion was finished as he had been quiet for a while. She then rose slightly off her chair in excitement as she saw the door finally opening for him. It would not open until a changed Dillon was ready to re-enter the world.

The door flew open intensely revealing a gorgeous woman striking a defiant pose—one hand held in the air having shoved away the door, the other hand cockily placed on her hip. She had broken free from her prison walls and was ready to take on the world.

“Oh my,” Anis gawked. Even she was shocked at the results. “You look great dear!”

With a proud, steadfast smile, Dillon approached Anis, one hand still on her hip as she swayed with her walk, her thighs giving off quite the show as she did. Her heels delivered pompous taps against the wooden floor until stopping directly in front of Anis at her desk.

Before Anis could speak, Dillion pressed her hands tight onto her cheeks and delivered a kiss to Anis’ lips. Anis was shocked, but welcomed it. She didn’t fight back and simply let the new Dillion relish her moment. Dillon’s tongue invaded her mouth, violently batting away Anis’ tongue as it seemingly fought for deeper entry. Anis felt her hair tugged on, one of Dillion’s hands yanking her head back slightly. The new woman was voracious in her appetite, hungry for every morsel of saliva. Anis felt like the kiss might never stop; their lips feeling fused together, no air escaping. She was running out of breath, yet she loved it, loved her creation’s fearless pursuit of what she craved.

Both women gasped, their mouths finally detached. Anis was breathing heavier than Dillion, a blush forming on her face. Dillion was good. Dillion did what she imagined was going to become her signature hair flip with her hand.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you.” The sultry, confident woman confessed.

“Hah… happy to help.”

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

“You look amazing…” Anis said, admiring greatly what she had brought into the world. “What will you do now?”

“Hm? Do what I planned to from the beginning. I’m hitting the town! I have needs that simply must be satisfied. Then tomorrow... heh, there is so much to do. Ain’t nothin’ stopping this girl!”

Dillion leaned forward with her hands on her hips and gave a playful smile to Anis as a final thank you. She could tell Anis felt pride in what she had done to her. With a final farewell Dillion left the Switch Witch, taking a purse with her that Anis had given her containing a new photo ID. This magic was certainly thorough. She noticed the name on the ID was blank though. Of course, she needed a new name! Dillon twirled the curls of her hair, and then felt the laces of her headband. She thought of the black rose resting on top of it. She thought of herself as a lovely flower… lovely flower…

Thanks to her well-cultured mind, she remembered an Italian name associated with “flower”.

Fiorella.

The name appeared on the ID and Fiorella giggled in excitement. She was now ready.

***

Fiorella felt the man’s thick dick surge forward inside her, throwing her out of sorts. She had felt ready for this, yet it still turned out to be a shocker, her vaginal muscles clenching repeatedly in thanks for the tasty treat. Her ribbed inner walls grinded against the powerful in-and-out thrusts of the man’s potent cock. Try as she might to keep a reservedexpression, her facade was crumbling and she was about to fall into the throes of an unstoppable assault of pure bliss. She was filled, she was happy, she was confident. Confident that she could claim anyone for her own like she did with this man from the bar. Confident that she could talk and work her way into whichever position she needed, just like she had seized this man with her guided conversation and well-timed gestures. As Dillion, the knowledge to succeed and the passion were there, but it was buried deep. Now her true self had been unleashed, and she was ready for anything. She would be the center of attention wherever she’d go. All eyes would be on her as she climbed the ranks of the fashion world and lived a life of celebrity and decadence.

First, she needed to claim her first night’s prize.

She wrapped her arms tenderly around the neck of the man pounding her and forced as calm a demeanor as she could muster within her melting expression. She was falling into pleasure, it was unavoidable, but she needed to still look as in control as possible. She did not thrash or kick, and she did not wrap tight her arms. She stayed as light as could be and let the man fuck her steady and hard.

With surprising control of her voice, considering her rocking body, Fiorella seductively commanded, “That’s it boy. Don’t you dare let up. We’re almost there. We’re almost, hah, hoh, oh! 

Suddenly, the moment Fiorella was waiting for arrived. Finally she could experience the full breadths of pleasure her magnificent body had to offer her.

“Oh, here it comes! Hah!” She moaned, her voice losing its calm and her body finally bucking wild. There was no way she could keep her composure while being dragged under this current of euphoria. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing it with a man, that it felt so good! “I can’t believe—ah! Auh! It’s hah! Ahnn!! Yes! OOHHH!!”

The man’s goopy sperm unloaded into Fiorella’s fresh folds, permanently tainting them. They would no longer be pure; this woman was far too insatiable with her intentions now having tasted such pleasure. The man continued with slow, methodical bucks as Fiorella rubbed a hand through his hair and another on his stiff, muscular back.

It wasn’t long before surprise seconds.

“Oh! Again!?” Fiorella groaned as the man started pounding into her once more, this time with more intensity. The man seemed to have the stamina of a bull. “You’re voracious… Ahn! Oh, good! That’s it! Ohh!! AHHH!!!

***

“Ohhh!! Oh, fuck! Oh fuck! Fio!” A nude, blonde, voluptuous woman cried out, pussy slamming against the pussy of a nude Fiorella on a luxurious bed in a spacious apartment with an artistic, minimalistic design. Fiorella, with a lewd snarl, held one of the blondie’s legs up and sat on top of the other as she grinded up and down against the woman’s slit. Fiorella was a bit undersize by comparison, but was in full control as the dominant.

“Ha ha! Ohhh… Mina you’re so cute,” Fiorella teased. “Uhn! Oh! I w-wonder, how much more… oh! You can take!?”

Mina moaned back, “S-stop it Fio! Uhn, don’t, t-tease me, ahn! Oh! Oh no! Fuck! It, it’s coming! Hah, ahn! AHHH!!”

“Mina! Hah, ohhh!”

The two thumping women recoiled, backsides onto the luxurious bed within Fiorella’s apartment above her design studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn—each reeling from a massive orgasm.

The two women spooned and Mina twirled Fiorella’s hair as she often did after sex and often when she had something on her mind.

“Okay, what’s the matter?” Fiorella asked. Mina was tugging awful tight on her hair. Something was clearly bothering her.

“I… I’m just nervous about the fashion exam tomorrow. W-What if I fail...?” Mina said trembling.
Fiorella turned and softly squeezed her fiance’s hand.

“You won’t fail. You’re a brilliant fashion designer honey. You must have more confidence in yourself.”

Mina sat up and Fiorella followed, hugging her from behind.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Mina dismissed. “You were born confident!”

“Ha, that’s not true.”

Mina felt her lover’s large, pacifying breasts press against her slender back and her chin rest on her shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I first realized I wanted to create outfits of my own?” Mina asked.
“Share it with me.” Fiorella replied calmly and quietly, doing her best to keep her girlfriend mellow.

"I'm one of eight kids and when I was little my parents forgot me at a restaurant," I ran outside and saw their car pulling out of the parking lot. As I was standing there I thought, Wow, I have to stand out more than this! I learned then, that I had to stand out in order to succeed—and survive.”

Mina turned to face Fiorella and continued, “You do it so well! You are so cool and succeed at everything you do. Christ, you’re in charge of the largest heel designer studio in New York! I’m nothing, just a brat with big dreams who you spoil! I would’ve never gotten here without your connections.”

“That is true.” Fiorella bluntly replied. She then smiled and stroked Mina’s cheek. With warm sincerity she said, “All of us need a little push though. Believe it or not, I too needed help getting to where I am. I wasn’t always the cunning fashionista you see before you! There is nothing wrong with receiving help from others on the path to self-discovery. I saw something beautiful in you Mina.”

Mina began to cry a bit. Fiorella wiped away her tears.

“I saw myself in you…” Fiorella muttered, tears even welling in her eyes. “I saw someone who possessed a vision just waiting to be seen. I saw someone who wished to be heard, but without the courage to speak up. I wanted to help however I could. Heh, little did I know I’d fall in love too.”

Mina leaned into a quick kiss, elated by her lover’s words.

“Now, how can I help you settle down honey?”

Mina, relaxed, hugged her fiancé tight and replied, “D-Don’t worry, this is good. Just knowing I have you to believe in me gives me all the confidence I need.”