First he will test out his power on her appearance

“Sharon,” Simon said, cutting gently into the quiet that had settled over the dining room. He watched her hands fold together on the tabletop, fingers laced tight, waiting. “You didn’t come here because of the noise. Did you.”

She looked up at him at once, eager, attentive, as though the question were permission. A quick nod.

He noticed the way her lips parted to speak and lifted a finger. “You’ll answer when I ask you to.”

“Thank you,” she said, relief softening her voice. “You’re right, Mr. Gatting. I barely heard a thing. The walls here carry every cough and footstep. If there had been shouting, I would have known.”

Simon leaned back in his chair. “You came because you wished you were one of the women in my apartment.”

Color crept into her cheeks, spreading from her collar to the tips of her ears. She kept her back straight, chin raised, clinging to her dignity even as she nodded.

“I suppose I did,” she said, tone prim, almost scolding herself. “A foolish thought for someone my age. One ought to behave with decorum.”

“How old are you, Sharon?”

“Sixty-nine. Not exactly appropriate for a woman my age to fantasize about a young man like yourself.” She spoke the number plainly, unaware of the small smile that tugged at the corner of Simon’s mouth as he studied her across the table.

Simon smirked as he let his bathrobe drop, teasing her a little. Because he hadn't spoken to release her, she remained unable to speak and, bound by his earlier command, did not move from her seat. Her eyes bulged as Simon willed his penis to become erect and pulled off his boxers and trunks.

Sharon stared in a mix of horror, fascination, desire, and hunger at his erect member, her nostrils flaring as she tried to catch its scent. Simon stepped closer to her, pulling up a stool so his penis could be at face level with her as he stood a few inches away. Sharon's horror flared, but so did her excitement, her breaths coming quicker as the smell reached her.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Simon asked, watching her face for any sign of protest.

Sharon’s fingers tightened in her lap. She was unable to glance away from his erection, her breath catching before the word came out. “Yes,” she said, the answer stumbling free. “I just… didn’t expect you to be so forward.”

A faint smile touched Simon’s mouth. “You like that about me.”

Her chin lifted, the old stiffness returning as if she were signing a formal statement. “Yes,” she said again, voice steady now. “I do.”

"You're right, Sharon," Simon began, "it is wrong for a woman who is sixty-nine, almost double my age, to fantasize about me." He informed her plainly, his tone carrying the detached logic he used on shift. "But what if you didn't look sixty-nine?"

"What do you mean?" Sharon stuttered, confused.

"That you," Simon continued, "so you can receive my affections without feeling any guilt or worrying about what others might think about you, will start to change to look like a more idealized younger version of yourself."

Nodding, Sharon stuttered, "I think," she began, "I think I will."

The words hung in the air, and reality obeyed without fanfare or flash, just a seamless shift, like the world exhaling and reshaping itself around his command.

It started with her hair. The cropped silver strands stirred as if caught in a gentle breeze, lengthening inch by inch, darkening from grey to a warm, lustrous brown. Waves formed naturally, tumbling past her shoulders, framing her face in soft, silky layers that begged to be touched, the kind of mane that swayed hypnotically with every movement. She blinked, and the thick black frames vanished, her pale green eyes sharpening into vivid emeralds, pupils dilating slightly as the first flicker of attraction took hold.

Her skin followed, the deep lines etching her forehead and around her mouth fading like mist under sunlight, smoothing into porcelain perfection with a youthful flush creeping across her cheeks. Her jawline refined, chin softening into a gentle point, while her lips plumped subtly full, rosy, and parted just enough to hint at unspoken desires. The stern pout dissolved into something inviting, a natural sensuality that made her expression shift from judgmental to intrigued, her gaze locking onto Simon with a heat that hadn't been there seconds before.

She straightened in her chair, but it wasn't voluntary, her body was expanding, reshaping from the inside out. At 5'2" before, she stretched taller, vertebrae aligning until she hit 5'8", her legs lengthening beneath the table, thighs thickening with toned muscle under soft, supple skin. Her sensible blouse and pants shimmered and reformed, the fabric tightening and darkening into a sleek black sweater dress that clung like a second skin, the neckline dipping low to reveal the swelling curves of her chest. What had been modest and flat now blossomed into full, heavy D-cups, rising and falling with her quickening breath, the material stretching taut over their buoyant firmness, nipples hardening faintly against the knit as arousal stirred.

Her waist cinched inward, carving an hourglass silhouette that accentuated the flare of her hips widening to match, her backside rounding out into a plush, heart-shaped perfection that pressed against the chair with inviting give. The transformation rippled downward, her calves sculpting into elegant lines, feet arching slightly as if ready for heels she didn't yet wear. A subtle glow settled over her, every inch radiating vitality her skin dewy and warm, scent shifting to something faintly floral and intoxicating, her entire form now a masterpiece of feminine allure, designed for desire.

Sharon—now this transformed vision—let out a soft, involuntary gasp, her hands unclenching in her lap as she glanced down at herself, fingers tracing the new swell of her breasts with tentative wonder. "You're right, Simon," she murmured, voice husky and smooth, stripped of its former sharpness, laced instead with a sultry undertone. "This feels... incredible. I feel incredible. For you."

She shifted in her seat, the dress riding up slightly to expose more of her toned thighs, her eyes meeting his with open hunger, body leaning forward as if drawn by an invisible pull. The rigid neighbour was gone; in her place sat a woman primed for devotion, every curve and glance screaming invitation. Simon watched it all unfold, a quiet thrill cutting through him