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You think back to when you had asked her to be perpetually aroused. There had been a look there... a look of helpless lust and indecision that for some reason tickled the back of your mind. She had looked so attractive in that moment, so alluring, and you want to see it again.

Her head bobs at a steady pace as you think about this. She's really not bad at this, and you don't feel the need to up her game at all. You remember your dream had physical transformations, too. Could you possibly...

"Karina, would you rather naturally have purple eyes or green hair?"

She pulls back from your cock and looks up at you again. "Purple eyes sound pretty cool."

She blinks, and suddenly her irises are a bright purple shade you've only seen in contacts. It's a little off-putting, but with her straight black hair and deep red lips it also strikes you as rather attractive. She begins to move back to your dick but you hold her in place by her hair. She looks up at you expectantly.

That look had been there for a moment, but a short one this time. You need to ask a larger question. Thinking for a moment, you take her face in your hands and squat down to her level. Her eyes follow yours the whole way. You gaze back, and for a moment you think you see the dominant deep within her eyes fighting for control, a burning mix of anger and arousal. You decide to feed the flames.

"Would you rather have to answer all my questions honestly or have me be able to read your mind?"

The look flashes again as she makes her choice. "I'll answer you honestly, sir."

"How do you feel right now?"

She bites her lip and casts her eyes down. "H-horny, sir," she says, "and a little angry that I have to act this way."

"Act which way?" you ask.

"Nice, and submissive. I know these were the options, sir, but I'd rather not have to act differently at all."

"You're right, those were the options." You move from your squatted position to take a knee, keeping one hand on Karina's face. "Karina, what parts of yourself are you most proud of?"

"Proud of? I... I guess I really like my face. I had acne all through high school and college and now that it's cleared up, I like the way I look much more." She looks at you, waiting for a response, but you give her a blank expression until she feels pressured to keep answering your question. "I'm also pretty proud of my tits, sir. They're big enough to be fun, but not so big I have to overspend on bras. Sometimes I do anyway." A red flush creeps into her cheeks at her honesty. "I'm proud of how I'm smart and pretty, even if it's arrogant to think so. I'm proud of how easy it is to keep my figure, I'm proud of how easily I can manipulate people into doing what I want, I'm proud of the way my friends' boyfriends look at me when they think no one's looking, I'm proud of that time I-"

You cut her off with a finger on her lips. Her breathing is still fast and you can feel her racing heartbeat, though whether that's from arousal or shame you don't know. Maybe it's both.

"If I told you I could change you, take everything you're proud of and reshape it to my desires, distill you down and mold you like clay, how would that make you feel?"

"I'd feel afraid, sir. I like myself and I don't want to change."

You seize the opportunity. "Would you rather want me to change you as I see fit, or not want it but have the idea of it be the biggest turn-on imaginable?"