Wren shrieked, screaming bloody murder!!! Looking at her reflection, feeling the sensations she was feeling...the cold air on her new, exposed dark flesh, the tight embrace of the white booty shots and top supporting her perky new tits...the odd pitch up, and down into the toes feeling of the knee-high stiletto boots...she was overwhelmed!!!
"I...this isn't me...this isn't fucking me!!!" she stomped from the right to the left, teetering on the boots' narrow heels as she struggled to stay upright. She didn't know where to go, what to do!
Suddenly, her body shuddered, her legs and arms tensed, loosened, and tensed again, as if some unseen force was feeling her...every square inch of her...getting the lay of the land. Her body shuddered once more.
She immediately went into a foot apart, hands on hip stance, looking straight ahead, her heels clicking on the cement pavement of the sidewalk. "I...I must be a credit to the squad. I must not let Wren overreact." Ren said. The words were spoken, but they were NOT what she wanted to say.
Ren's eyes were darted from left to right, in angry, frustrated confusion. She wasn't doing this...moving like this...saying these things! It was as if some kind of override had kicked in and she was just along for the ride!
Her new body walked forward, bending gracefully, like a dancer would, to pick up her phone, and retrieve her purse. Leaving her latte behind, her new dance-team body pulled her eyes from the purse and unlocked the door. Stepping inside, she locked the door behind her and marched over to the security panel, hips swaying, boot heels clicking with each step.
Her new African-American fingers deftly entered the security override code, deactivating the alarm, as she had done on countless mornings prior. Her body strutting confidently, she walked through the store, past the aisles of dog toys, aquarium supplies, small animal enclosures, and food. While her new, black body was seemingly assured and determined, her face seemed confused, bewildered, and forcibly silent.
Pushing the swinging doors that led to the backroom and warehouse space at the rear of the store aside, Wren strode confidently across the concrete floor into the large open space within. Setting her phone and purse aside, she took up a position in the center of the room. Wren looked around, realizing that her new body had positioned her directly in front of the backroom security camera. As if she were presenting herself to an observer.
"I-I must practice my routines. My squad is depending on me." Wren said again, her eyes confused as her mouth said the words despite her wishes. Her body walked over and uploaded a file from a source she didn't recognize. Hitting a few buttons, her phone began to play the music that was playing in the video she'd been forced to watch over and over.
To Wren's increasing frustration and confusion, her new body began to go through a series of dance routines, exercises, high kicks, and movements. Wren gritted her teeth, tears forming in her eyes, as she was forced to practice for God knows what.
Humiliated and horrified at the loss of control and self-determination as she was, she couldn't help but be amazed by the body she'd been saddled with's grace, skill, and dexterity.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
