"To the one who will find this
Here's a present, just for you
Coming right from the abyss
May all your wishes come true"
And somehow, to Sandy's amazement, the little rhyme hadn't been lying. She had tested the black and silver dictaphone with the sentence, "there is a glass of water on the living room table" - something she knew to not be true. And yet, no sooner had she stopped recording, a glass of water appeared on the table! Sandy had nearly dropped the dictaphone in shock, eyes wide and mouth open.
But let's focus on Sandy herself for a moment, shall we? Seventeen years old, pale-skinned five feet and five inches tall, with sandy (heh) blonde hair, green eyes, and a modest B-cup in breast size, Sandy wasn't exactly plain - though she didn't quite stand out, either. She was a kind and curious girl, though she had her limits. And she had just been given a device that could make all her wildest dreams come true - and dreams a thousand times more wild than those! Sandy also had a bevy of kinks and fetishes revealed or picked up during her first half-confused forays into the seedier side of the Internet. Macrophilia being only one of them.
Sandy also had a younger sister, and, as one would expect, a mother and father. Her younger sister, Jessica was thirteen years old and quite a bit shorter and less developed than Sandy. However, she shared the same hair and eye colours as her older sister, so the two tended to be easily recognizable as being related. Sandy's mother and father were pretty much what one would expect of one's parents - supportive and nurturing, but ready to lay down the law if need be. Her mother was a couple of inches taller than her and shared her hair colour - she'd gotten her eyes from her dad. Said father was almost exactly six feet tall, reasonably well-built, and had chocolate brown hair; however, he went on business trips often, and so Sandy had a far weaker relationship with him than her mother.
Sandy quickly sprinted up to her room, closing the door behind her just quietly enough to avoid attention. Clasping the dictaphone in both hands in front of her as she sat on the edge of her bed, she wondered what to change, where to start. Should she start small? A change here and there, showing restraint? Or maybe... Maybe she could finally satisfy some of her kinks?
It seemed that deiphilia and the dictaphone had the potential to go together like bread and butter. As did macrophilia, and a whole range of other fetishes. Perhaps she could finally see what life would be like as her 'fursona'? Or maybe she could abandon her kinks entirely and forge a completely new world? A shiver ran down Sandy's spine as she contemplated her next change...
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