Try to brace yourself as the serum begins to work on your hips

You clench your fists against the restraints, every muscle in your body tensing as you prepare for whatever's coming. The purple liquid spreads through your hip joint like liquid fire, and for the first few seconds, there's only a strange warmth.

Then the pain begins.

It starts as a deep, grinding pressure in your right hip socket—similar to the facial transformation but concentrated in a single point. You bite down on your lip, tasting the permanent pink gloss, trying to breathe through it.

"Good girl," Miss Velvet murmurs, moving to your left side with another syringe. "One more, then we let the serum work."

The second injection pierces your left hip, and within moments both sides of your pelvis begin to throb in synchronization. The pressure builds steadily, becoming an insistent ache that radiates down your thighs and up into your lower back.

"The serum is activating the growth plates in your pelvic bone," Miss Velvet explains, setting aside the empty syringes. She pulls up a stool and sits beside the table, clearly settling in to watch. "Over the next six hours, your hip bones will separate and widen by approximately four inches. Your pelvis will tilt forward slightly, changing your entire center of gravity. Your waist will appear narrower by comparison."

The ache intensifies into sharp, stabbing pains as something inside your hips begins to shift. You can actually feel your bones moving, separating with tiny grinding sensations that make your stomach turn.

"Breathe, Candy," Miss Velvet instructs, her gloved hand resting on your thigh. "Don't fight it. Let your body do what it needs to do."

By 8:15am, the pain has escalated into constant, throbbing agony. Your entire pelvic region feels like it's being pulled apart from the inside—which, you realize with horror, is exactly what's happening. Each breath sends fresh waves of cramping through your lower abdomen.

"It hurts," you gasp, your feminine voice breaking.

"I know, sweetness." Miss Velvet's fingers stroke through your hair, the gesture almost tender. "Peak pain will hit around 11am. But you're doing beautifully. Your pelvis is already starting to widen. Feel it?"

You do feel it—a horrible stretching sensation, bones literally separating. Your breath comes in short, panting gasps as the transformation continues its inexorable progression.

You force yourself to concentrate on each inhalation, each exhalation, trying to find some rhythm that makes the agony tolerable. The cramping in your pelvis intensifies steadily, radiating through your lower back and down into your thighs. Your newly feminine hands grip the restraints until your knuckles turn white.

"That's it," Miss Velvet encourages from her position beside the table. She hasn't moved in over thirty minutes, simply watching with those unsettling pink eyes. "Ride the waves. Don't resist them."

By 9am, sweat beads across your forehead despite the cool temperature of the chamber. The grinding sensation in your hips has become constant—bone separating from bone with microscopic movements that accumulate into visible change. Miss Velvet produces a measuring tape and runs it across your hips, nodding with satisfaction.

"Already an inch and a half wider," she announces. "Remarkable progress."

The hours blur together in waves of cramping pain. Around 10:30am, Miss Velvet brings you water through a straw, holding your head up slightly so you can drink. The simple act of swallowing feels strange with your restructured throat and voice box.

"How much longer?" you manage to gasp between contractions.

"Peak pain hits in about twenty minutes," she replies, checking her tablet. "Then another three hours of gradual settling. You're doing exceptionally well, Candy. Most subjects scream through this part."

She's right about the peak. At 10:52am, the cramping escalates into something that tears a high, feminine cry from your throat—a sound you barely recognize as your own. Your pelvis feels like it's being torn apart, which in a very real sense it is. The bones separate with audible pops that make your stomach lurch.

Miss Velvet leans forward, her gloved hand resting on your chest just above your still-flat male chest. "Breathe through it, sweetness. Just breathe. This is your body becoming female. Let it happen."

The pain maintains its intensity for nearly forty minutes before finally beginning to recede into something merely agonizing rather than unbearable. Your breathing remains ragged, each gasp emerging in that breathy feminine voice.

"There," Miss Velvet murmurs around 11:35am. "The worst is past. Now your bones just need to finish settling into their new configuration." She measures again. "Three inches. You're going to have beautiful hips, Candy. Perfect childbearing hips."

The casual mention makes something twist in your stomach that has nothing to do with the physical pain.