... an elderly couple standing behind a stove, nonchalantly cooking. Barry looked towards the man who was wearing brown, corduroy slacks with chestnut coloured loafers. He looked even older as he wore a muted green checkerboard woollen sweater over a casual white dress shirt and a small beige cap atop his crown. His skin was pale and his eyes, although they were deep inside of his sunken eye sockets, radiated life, vibrant and green.
His partner also dressed conservatively, wearing a matching green jumper and shirt while instead of slacks she wore a plain grey skirt. She had high socks which covered her knobbled knees and flats that didn't increase her height of 5'1". She had short silvery hair that was pushed behind her ears, allowing Barry to see the abundance of wrinkles on her withered face.
Barry watched on pensively as he weighed up his options; either try and take out the couple for a possible kidnapping, which could potentially blow up in his face if they'd just picked him up and brought him to the shack after his 'transmogrification', or try to slowly sneak out a bit quieter than when he came in.
He quickly chose option 2 (did you really think he was gonna beat up some elderly people?), choosing to slowly back out of the door instead.
"Come back!" He heard the same voice that had woken him up but this was different; the words seemed to resonate in his mind, bouncing around his skull, penetrating his mental defences and forcing him to yield to them. Barry felt his body go slack as he lost control of it. His legs started moving involuntarily towards the source of the voice. He tried to scream aloud for help but his mouth couldn't seem to conjure any noise.
As he walked back into the room, Barry realised that there was someone else with him also and that they'd been obstructed by a wooden support beam in front of him. They slowly spun around and observed Barry as he strutted inside, surveying his new body from head to toe as if he was a frog about to be dissected by a scientist.
As he approached the figure, Barry looked them up and down. A woman, no more than 23, who possessed flawless hazelnut skin and crimped ebony hair with perfect curls running down to her shoulders, one side covering an eye. Her eyes themselves were a deep silvery, hazel fusion which if you stared into, you could lose yourself in them. She had full, maroon-coloured lips that were pursed together in an unintended scowl. Her clothes seemed 2nd rate compared to her model appearance : a dirty set of clothes which consisted of a denim jacket, a grey t-shirt with a pair of ripped jeans and a worn out pair of Converse Allstars.
He felt his new body moved towards the woman,trying unsuccessfully to regain control of his limbs. He now stood in front of the woman and bowed in front of her. "How may I serve you, my mistress?", he heard himself say in a feminine sing-song voice that made him feel sick. First he couldn't control his own movements and now he was forced to call this stranger his MISTRESS! He struggled even more vehemently now in his own mind to regain control.
The woman, or whatever she was, giggled as she stood up from the seat she was in and paced over to Barry's sullen form with his head bowed on the floor. "Rise, servant!" As Barry stood up, he...
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