Blood to a stone.

The women's restroom was empty when Claire entered. She moved to the washbasin and carefully extracted the tiny sliver of glass embedded in her thumb and washed the small cut under the tap. Once cleaned, she inspected the small cut as a drop of blood formed on the ball of her thumb. Instinctively, Claire put her thumb to her mouth, wincing as she tasted the unpleasant metallic tang of blood. Opening her other hand, she looked curiously at the pendant she had discovered by the bar. Though Claire was no antiquerian the necklace looked old, the silver chain, clasp and gem setting were darkened by a dark grey patina. The blood red gem itself was cut in the shape of a heart, and light reflecting from the faceted surface gave it the illusion of glowing from within. Claire glanced guiltily towards the restroom door, the urge to try the necklace on and see herself wearing it in the washbasin mirror just for a few seconds too strong to resist. It needed both hands to undo the clasp and refasten it behind her neck.

Claire had worn her best blouse for hr xcursion to the nightclub, a silky black top with a V neck that plunged lower than she would normally dare to wear in public. Her lack of breasts meant there was little to no cleavage despite the revealing cut of the blouse, her small mounds barely disturbing the surface of the thin material, and the absence of any flesh to need supporting rendered the wearing of a bra beneath the blouse unnecessary. The red gem lay against her virtually flat chest in the bared V of exposed skin. Claire moved her right hand to the pendant, moving and turning it slightly so its facets sparkled as light reflected. A drop of blood, welling up from the small cut smeared over the surface of the carnellian, and for an instant, the gemstone responded with a pulse of red light from the depths of the stone. A wave of giddiness swept through Claire, and she stumbled slightly, grasping the counter on either side of the washbasin to steady herself. It took a second or two for the disorientation to pass before Claire raised her gaze to her reflection once more.

Claire stared at her reflection, an expression of bemused surprise on her face. For a few seconds, she dismissed what she witnessed in the mirror as a trick of the light or a lingering effect of her brief dizziness. Her limp brown hair was darkening, and the lifeless straight tresses began to curl and lengthen until loose, wavy ringlets of glossy midnight black spilt over her shoulders. It was only when the soft curls of hair teased the bared flesh beside the pendant that Clair accepted what she saw in the mirror was reality. The flattened surface of the silky blouse began to fill out, and Claire felt warmth suffuse her chest as her breasts swelled and filled the formally loose and empty space. She felt her small, flat nipples harden and expand, the stiff points now tenting out the thin material as her mounds continued to swell and form a deep cleavage. Claire gasped as the heat in her chest was matched by a similar glow on the skin of her face. She stared dumbfounded as her cheekbones seemed to move beneath her flesh, becoming higher and more pronounced as her face thinned and her nose and chin narrowed and shrank to a dainty, feminine ideal. Thin, pale lips filled out, becoming full and flawless as they darkened to a rich, bright red

The reflection in the mirror stared back at Claire, the expression one of dumbfounded awe and shock as the dull brown eyes darkened to a rich mahogany hue that sparkled with vibrant highlights. The warmth now had spread across her body, and Claire's hands clutched at herself as she felt her flesh fluidly shift as fat and muscle redistributed in a disconcerting yet painless metamorphosis. Claire's hips widened, her waist narrowed drastically to give her an hourglass figure of exaggerated femininity. Her hands brushed her new curves as she stared open-mouthed at the transformed reflection. Claire could still see traces of herself in the reflection of her face, but even the most skilled beautician and a couple of dozen cosmetic products could not have achieved such a comprehensive makeover. Claire's trembling hands raised to her chest, each breast now amply filling her palms. She experimentally flexed her fingers, the sensation as she gently squeezed the pliant mounds convincing her of their reality.

"Uh, excuse me. If you're done groping those tits, others are waiting," A woman's voice, a mixture of impatience and amusement, dragged Claire's awareness back to the moment and her eyes away from the mirror. "To use the mirror, that is, though I'm sure groping those tits would be fun for both of us."