Instinctively, Draco sank deeper into the water, as he heard the door opening.
"Crabbe, Goyle..." his voice higher and more fear filled than he intended.
"Yeah, Draco." the gruff voice of Crabbe answered, they spotted their leader half-hidden, in the bubble bath, scooping whole bergs of bubbles to better hide himself. An amused, smile flickered across his face. Quickly hidden, aware of Draco's insecurities about not being taken seriously.
"Just put them on the floor and turn around." A slim arm draped in and dripping bubbles pointed to a spot on the tiled floor. The arm looked a little bare, not that Draco was blessed with physical strength, but something looked off. Crabbe dropped the Slytherin uniform in a neat pile as directed, and turned his back.
"No. Guard the door. Both of you, out! Guard the door."
Myrtle's head popped through the bubbles, as she rested in on her hands. Her elbows planted on the edge of the tub. She waved silently to their unseeing backs, as they left.
Again the fear was clear in his voice, but with a shrug they obeyed. Draco too, had noticed his arm was ... different. He tried to dismiss it, as a trick of the light, or an effect of the soapy water. However, running his hand along he found it completely bare, even of the softest of hairs. As he rose from the bath, his bubble-clad body rising from the bath. As the bubbles slide to the floor, swept on their way with him brushing the largest suds from his body, it was impossible to hide that his entire body, from the neck down was bare, without any hair, on his chest, at his armpits. His skin was silky smooth to the touch.
Not only that, but it almost tingled just from the chill of the air, compared to the warmth of the bath water. He tried to dismiss the intensity that seemed focused on his chest. A glance downwards confirming they still looked the same, small stubby nipples, barely there. But now much, much more sensitive than he'd ever felt before.
Rubbing himself dry he vigorously used the towel. Stopping almost instantly, as he swallowed a cry. Though it wasn't from pain, it disturbed him, how much he felt it. Changing quickly to dabbing himself dry. He ignored Myrtle's gaze, he attempted to ignore the disappointment. Assuring himself, that this magical damage was temporary, and had she seen his true dimensions her reaction would have been more impressed.
But he slid his underpants into place as quickly as he could. Without pausing, or looking at her, he slipped a T-shirt on too.
As his head emerged from the top of T-shirt. He couldn't ignore Myrtle any longer, her face was split in two by her amused smile. That and her outstretched hand caught his attention.
His hands drifting to his pants. The pants that Myrtle found so humorous. Instantly he snatched them back, as his fingers felt embroidered details. His head snapped downwards to disprove the illusionary feeling, only to see the embroidered rose, on the seam of his panties. His plain white underwear vanished, and in it's place some pink panties, with an embroidered waistband, decorated with a little posy of roses.
His barely there bulge not helping the situation, the panties looked entirely appropriate.
His heart beat out of his chest, as he took it all in. Then it raced again, pounding more heavily, as before Draco's eyes, his T-shirt, shifted. The arms disappearing, and thin straps running over his shoulder all that held it in place. The material shimmered, as it transfigured from plain cotton, to a softer silker... to satin. His white Quidditch T-shirt now replaced by a greyer.. Ivory... silver cami-top.
He fought back any panic fuelled cries, the thought of Crabbe or Goyle finding him in women's underwear enough of an incentive. However, he recognised the cami-top, as women's underwear.
Myrtle's look was more appraising now.
"I'm jealous of your legs." she mused aloud, much to Draco's annoyance and humiliation.
Knowing and dreading what was coming next. Draco knew he had to finish getting dressed. As expected his shirt transformed into a blouse, not cut terribly differently, but buttoning up the opposite side. An awkward change as he buttoned it, in a rush to cover the cami-top. The trousers, stayed that way, until he was half-way through pulling his jumper into place.
But again, as he pulled his head through the neck of his jumper, he felt it drift across his skin. His legs feeling their touch as they transfigured, becoming a skirt. A sour look on his face, Draco couldn't fathom how to feel. Relief that the skirt was long enough to reach below his knees, or furious that he was wearing a skirt.
Again, their was an envy in Myrtle's look, as she admired Draco. Looking like a slender blonde girl, his anger looking more like pouting, petulance. She projected no power, no authority, as she squirmed at the sight of her reflection, in the mirrors above the bank of sinks.
Even his shoes betrayed him, as jammed his feet inside. A half-inch heel pushed him upwards, and he felt the design change, as they revealed more of his denuded feet.
Draco felt hot tears threatening to burst free, as he saw how feminine and girlish he looked. Swallowing nervously, he realised he looked prettier, more refined than Pansy Parkinson. A shudder ran down his spine, as he fought to think of a way out of this without surrendering his dignity.
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