Her own dance club

The door opens and you notice two things simultaneously. One is the thickness of the door. It's really thick and, judging from the way she's pulling on it, really heavy. A door like that must be soundproof.

The other thing you notice is the reason for the soundproof door. As soon as Queen Miranda opens it, loud dance music pours out. The Queen and her entourage walk into a full blown dance club. It's windowless and dark, except for the flashing lights giving glimpses of the wild dancers enjoying themselves on the dance floor.

Suddenly Miranda is wearing party clothes. The business suit has been replaced by a tiny black skirt and a yellow tank top that's struggling to stretch enough to hold in her huge breasts. Nobody else notices the change. There's even a shadowy false memory in your head, telling you that she was already wearing that. It's a strange thing, being affected by her wishes but still aware of them.

Miranda walks out onto the dance floor and the other dancers part to let her pass. Nobody quite stops dancing, but a lot of them slow down as the distractingly gorgeous woman walks past them. They're obviously supposed to keep dancing by royal decree, but they can't concentrate. Despite the amazing array of beautiful women on the floor, Miranda outshines them all. Several men mumble something about the superiority of Asian hotties and how grateful they are that their Queen is one of them.

When Miranda reaches the center of the dance floor, she looks around. She carefully considers all the men dancing with their girls, then points to a particularly muscular man with his shirt half open. He rushes over and starts dancing with Miranda while his girlfriend stands there giggling, unbelievably happy that the Queen decided to steel her boyfriend.

All eyes stick to Miranda. She dances with a surety and skill that she never had while you knew her growing up. Her short skirt flips up as she shakes her hips, revealing a yellow thong that matches her top. Her large breasts sway back and forth as she twists her shoulders. Her straight black hair flips around and sparkles in the flashing lights. The sight of her is making your erection painfully hard, a feeling that's probably common among the men on the dance floor, judging by all the pant tents.

A slower song starts up and Miranda puts her arms around her dance partner's neck. He puts his hands on her hips and they sway back and forth. They stare into each other's eyes and Miranda's grin becomes a hungry snarl. She kisses him. They sink into each other and forget the dance floor completely.

You notice that the guy's former girlfriend appears to swoon as Miranda and he kiss. She is apparently overwhelmed by her good fortune that Miranda is making out with her boyfriend. The girls standing next her begin to congratulate her at her luck.

Suddenly, Miranda pushes the muscular guy away.