… or you try to, in any case. You soon discover, that no matter how hard you pull, the golden ring won’t come off. It’s stuck!
Something’s not right here. You open your mouth to yell for the guards. “Nuh-uh, master,” Aaliyah says, waggling a finger in your face. “Be silent.” Your shout never materializes. Instead you’re left blinking, mouth open stupidly in a silent scream.
“Figure it out yet, master?” Aaliyah asks, smiling mischievously. “These are rings of obedience – the wearer of the gold ring is subject to follow any order the owner of the red ring might give.” She explained, waving her hand at you, the crimson ring glittering on her index finger. “But don’t worry, master. We’re just getting started. Take your clothes off and go lie on the massage table.”
You find yourself unable to disobey. You strip off your clothes and stroll over to the table, lying down on it naked. “Don’t bother resisting. You can’t. I’ve planned this for too long to let anything go wrong now. We won’t be disturbed – I’ve ensured that,” Aaliyah followed you towards the table. She produced a needle, seemingly from nowhere, and stuck it into your bicep, drawing blood. She pulled a white, milky flask from her pocket, dripped a few drops of blood in it, and then the potion disappeared back into her sleeves.
“You see, I’m no ordinary slave girl. Nor am I an NPC.” You glared angrily up at her from flat on your back. You’d already begun to expect that she was no ordinary AI – you’d never heard of an NPC pulling anything like this. “No, I was a man,” she continued. “But due to some bad choices, I ended up like this,” she said, shaking her chest, sizable breasts wiggling seductively. Your cock stiffened at the display. Aaliyah smirked. “Best enjoy it while you can, John,” she said ominously.
Aaliyah disappeared from your sight momentarily. When she came back, she had a small jar of what looked like… oil? “Massage oil, John,” she explained. “Very special massage oil. You don’t know how much effort it took to acquire this.” She scooped some into her hands, rubbing the oil across them until they gleamed slickly. “You can have your voice back for this, John.” She said, smiling fiendishly. “But no yelling.”
“Aaliyah,” you say, trying to sound unafraid. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, stop. I can help you. I swear it.” Of course, you have no intention of helping her. If you escape this situation, you’ll have her head from her shoulders as quickly as you can manage it.
But it doesn’t matter because your reasoning doesn’t work. Instead, she simply smiles and begins to rub at your body with the oil. She caresses your shoulders, arms, chest, legs, everywhere she can reach. At first, not much seems to be happening. But soon, with a sick feeling in your stomach, you can feel your body changing.
Your muscles swell at her touch, actually looking larger for a moment, before dwindling and fading away, leaving your arms, legs, and torso as skinny as a young boy’s. When her touch returns to these areas, they plump, regaining some of their former weight, but now in the form of soft, pliable flesh. Aaliyah’s eyes dart towards the ceiling, then back to you. “I took the courtesy of installing a mirror in the ceiling, so you can observe your changes,” she says. You see that she’s not lying – already your body has begun to adopt a girlish figure.
Aaliyah moves towards your head, now massaging your face. You feel your eyelashes lengthen, your cheekbones raise, your lips plump up, your nose shrink. She pulls away and you gasp, your manly voice sounding out of place emerging from such a pretty face. “Yes, John, watch me take your masculinity, bit by bit, piece by piece,” she gloats tauntingly, as she pulls at your hair, lengthening it until it tickles at your uncovered rear. You’re beginning to look more and more like a woman, although at least for now you still have that which makes you a man.
As if sensing your thoughts, Aaliyah moves between your legs, groping for your manhood. “P…Please,” you whisper, as she strokes your cock, and it begins to stiffen again. You want to hit her, or run, or do anything at all to defy her, but you can’t. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry, John,” she replies, not sounding sorry at all. “But I’m tired of being a girl. Of being a slave. This is the best way to ensure I never have to be one again.”
“I always treated you well,” you plead, eyes wide. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”
“What did you do?” She shrieks, suddenly furious. “Besides keep me as a slave? And fuck me every chance you could get?” She’s still fondling your penis as she speaks, and despite yourself, you’re very turned on. “No. It’s your turn to get fucked.” And with those words ringing damningly in your ears, she pushes hard against your dick. Shloop! Your cock shrivels, retreating upwards into your crotch. With lightning quick motion, Aaliyah cups your balls and pushes them too into the rapidly forming crevasse between your legs. You lean forward, staring horrified at your groin, where your large manhood had so recently resided. In his place, was an undisputable (and terrible) sight – a lovely, pink pussy twitched flirtatiously between your legs.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, stunned senseless. Aaliyah’s giggling brings you somewhat back to your senses. “YOU BITCH!” You roar, as your new snatch burns with appalling desire. It seemed that your arousal had not abated, despite your loins’ transformation from proud masculinity to elegant womanhood. “I’ll KILL you!”
“Careful, careful, John,” Aaliyah snickered. “We’re nowhere near done just yet.”
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