Yes (of course)

His hands were still on my chest when I whispered, “Yes.”

And the look he gave me in the mirror—possessive, hungry, proud—was the only warning I got before he spun me around and kissed me hard.

He didn’t waste a second.

He pressed me back against the mirror, the cool glass making me shiver as my bare skin met its surface. His mouth was on my neck, then my collarbone, then lower—his tongue flicking over my new nipples and making my knees shake.

They were so sensitive.

Every lick, every suck sent sparks shooting through me, and I was moaning before he even got me fully undressed. My hips rolled against him, instinct taking over, already begging.

He lifted me by my thighs and pinned me to the mirror, my back arched, my ass bouncing slightly as he lined himself up and slid inside in one slow, claiming thrust. I gasped—loud and high—and wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he began to move.

It wasn’t fast at first.

It was deep. Rhythmic. Like he was testing me, stretching me out all over again now that I was different.

My moans filled the room.

He moved to the bed next, flipping me onto all fours and holding me in place by my hips. He spanked me once, hard, and I yelped, trembling under the sting. My ass jiggled from the ****—fuller now, more reactive—and he growled before driving into me again.

Time blurred.

He took me on my back, legs up over his shoulders. Then on my side. Then with me riding him, his hands gripping my waist while I bounced, my new curves moving with every motion.

And then—

Midway through—something happened.

I cried out, louder than before. Not from pain, but from… change. It felt like my body pulsed. Like magic surged through me again.

My breasts swelled slightly beneath his palms as he squeezed them. My hips pushed even wider, thighs thickening further, waist cinching tighter. I felt it happen. I felt my cock shrink just a little more, so small and sensitive I could barely think.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “You’re still changing…”

I whimpered, barely able to speak.

He rolled me onto my stomach, dragged me back against him, and slammed back inside. My voice hit higher pitches now—softer, more feminine, more helpless. My body molded perfectly to his. Every thrust made my whole frame bounce.

I was his. Entirely.

He used me for what felt like hours, switching positions every time I got close, edging me over and over until I was crying with need. Finally, when I begged—really begged—he let me cum. And I did, hard, without even touching myself.

He filled me moments later.

One last thrust. One long growl. One deep, shuddering release.

And then we collapsed together, tangled in sweat, magic, and each other.

When I caught my breath and looked at myself again in the mirror…

I looked like something new.

Something soft. Feminine. Obedient. Owned.

Something he made.