Figuring things out

Mind control that’s making this all seem normal and right. But your body wasn’t right. It was hard to ignore the swell of your chest. Two full, heavy breasts filled a thin white tank top, the fabric stretched tight across soft skin that felt … kindof hypersensitive. You lifted a hand, a smaller, daintier hand with nails slightly longer, and cupped your left breast. The weight was warm, living, yours. Part of you and extremely… tactile. Your thumb brushed the tip of your left nipple through the cotton and a spark of sensation shot straight down between your legs. You made a tiny sound you had never made before. “Oh…” Your voice was higher. Softer. Almost breathy.

You turned toward the hallway mirror. The woman looking back was petite—barely five foot even in bare feet—with a heart-shaped face, full lips, and large dark liquid eyes. Long dark hair fell past your shoulders in loose waves. The body was soft in all the places that mattered. You couldn’t get over your high, full breasts, your narrow waist that flared into rounded hips and a plump, heart-shaped ass that filled the tiny sleep shorts you were suddenly wearing.

You flexed one arm experimentally. Almost no muscle there. Soft and undeniably weak. The kind of strength that could be overpowered without effort. A flicker of the old you—Daniel—tried to surface. This isn’t right. I’m not—

Master’s voice cut through the thought, calm and certain. “Come here, Pia.”

The name hit you between the legs. You took a half-step forward before you caught yourself, jaw tightening as you tried to assert control. “That’s not… I’m not—”

He didn’t argue. He simply walked over, slow and unhurried, and held something up between two fingers: a simple black leather collar with a small silver ring at the front. The sight of it made your new cunt suddenly clench and you find yourself pressing your thighs together. “Walkies…”

“No,” you said, the word coming out thinner than you wanted. “We didn’t agree to—”

Master stepped in close, into your personal space in a way that made your roles clear. He was in control. You were not. One large hand settled under your chin and tilted your face up. You had to look up and it felt humiliating. His other hand brought the collar around the back of your slim neck. The cool leather kissed your skin. You reached up with both small hands and tried to push it away, but your arms felt fragile against his.

“Stop,” you whispered, even as your body leaned into him. “I’m still… I’m still me under this. I don’t want—”

The buckle clicked shut with a soft, final sound. The collar settled snug around your throat, not tight enough to choke, but present. Constant. A quiet reminder that power had already shifted. He clipped a thin leather leash to the ring and let the end hang between your breasts for a moment before closing his fist around it.

You swallowed hard. The movement made the collar shift against your skin.

“Master—” The word slipped out before you could stop it. You flinched at the sound of your own voice. “Fuck. Why do I keep thinking of you as master. I’m not your slave!”

He gave the leash a gentle tug, just enough to pull you a step closer. Your bare feet followed without permission. Your breasts pressed into his chest. The contact sent another helpless spark of arousal through you.

“You’re fighting it,” he observed, almost fondly. “That’s fine. Fight all you want.”