Close my eyes and try to mentally escape the sensation

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You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your consciousness inward. The tingling across your scalp is relentless—thousands of follicles activating simultaneously, pushing hair through skin at an unnatural rate. You try to visualize somewhere else. Anywhere else. Your apartment. The voices of friends and family.

But the sensation follows you even into your mental refuge. Each hair follicle announces its activation with a sharp prickling that builds into a crawling, electric feeling spreading across your entire scalp. You can feel individual strands pushing through, lengthening, growing with disturbing speed. Your scalp won't let you retreat. The tingling sensation intensifies into something more insistent, more alive. It feels like your skull is sprouting a thousand tiny fingers, pushing through skin that shouldn't be permeable. Each follicle announces its emergence with a sharp prickle that makes your jaw clench involuntarily.

"Where are you trying to go, Candy?" Miss Velvet's voice cuts through your attempted escape. You feel her fingers on your forehead, tracing small circles. "There's no running from this. Not in your mind, not anywhere." Miss Velvet's voice cuts through your attempted escape. You hear her moving around the table, feel her presence beside you. "In fact, I think it makes it worse. You're left with nothing but sensation."

Her gloved fingers touch your forehead, then move upward. "Oh, this is progressing beautifully. Look at this." She strokes something on top of your head—your emerging hair, you realize with a sickening lurch in your stomach. "Already three inches long. Such a lovely texture."

The crawling sensation intensifies. You try to maintain your mental distance, but your body won't let you ignore what's happening. The weight of growing hair becomes impossible to dismiss—a foreign pressure accumulating on your skull, pulling slightly at your scalp as it lengthens.

"Open your eyes, Candy," Miss Velvet commands. When you don't respond immediately, her hand cups your jaw firmly. "I said open them. I want you to watch yourself transform."

Reluctantly, you obey. She's holding a mirror above your face, angled so you can see your reflection. The sight makes your breath catch.

Light brown-colored hair now covers your head, already hanging several inches long and growing visibly as you watch. You can actually see it lengthening in real-time, strand by strand, the color rich and uniform. The front sections are developing into bangs that frame your face.

Something brushes against your ear. Miss Velvet holds up a single strand of hair between her gloved fingers, catching the light. It's perhaps two inches long already, a Light brown that's somehow softer than anything that grew on your head before.

"See? Your body is already responding beautifully." She lowers the strand, letting it fall back to your head. "I can see your pulse in your throat," Miss Velvet observes. "So rapid. Are you frightened? Aroused? Both?" Her hand moves from your forehead to your chest, palm flat over your racing heart. "Your body knows what your mind won't accept yet. This is inevitable."

The weight of new hair becomes noticeable—a strange sensation you've never experienced before, foreign strands multiplying against your scalp, growing longer with each passing moment. Miss Velvet's fingers card through it experimentally.

"Such a lovely texture," she murmurs. "Soft and silky." Miss Velvet murmurs; "Time we move on to your face itself—softening that masculine bone structure, giving you full lips, delicate features. You're going to be absolutely beautiful, Candy."