Bit by bit, it faded away, bringing back sensation and proprioception and cognition. Not all the sensations were good ones. The binder that had been confining her small breasts was acutely uncomfortable, and none of her clothes felt right at all, loose and rough against her skin.

“Claire?” Eureka said gently. Not through speakers this time, Claire thought vaguely. Her Mistress was right beside her. Actually, she was adjusting the restraints, which had become disappointingly loose, back to a satisfying embrace. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Mistress. Better than okay.” Wait, was that her voice? A rather sultry contralto purr?

“Oh, the voice change worked perfectly! Let’s get you out of those clothes and see how the rest worked, hm?”

“Do I get to see?”

“Muahaha.” Eureka’s evil laugh needed some work to get past adorably playful. “When I decide you can. You don’t need these clothes any more, so let’s get rid of them. Hmm. I did get you some clothes in your new size, but I picked things that would make sure you believed me about the whole diabolical plan.”

“I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear. You’re the boss, remember?”

“It’s been a while. And we still haven’t had that talk.”

Claire felt a cool metal finger trail along her cheek, down the side of her neck, then hook into the front of the white dress shirt. The buttons popped violently, and she heard them pinging off the floor all around. It was probably going to be her job to clean that up later, she thought. Both gauntleted hands caught hold of the binder, pulling to either side, but the tough elastic material resisted.

“Oh, honestly,” Eureka grumbled. “This thing is seriously messing with my groove, here, and it looks like it hurts.”

“It kind of does,” Claire admitted.

“Okay, ground rule: you need to tell me when things hurt. Like, right away.” Eureka did, well, something. “It has to come off and even if I spoiled the fun and let you go, I don’t know how we’d get it off you without more pain, so don’t move. I don’t want to cut you. I should have thought of this and removed it before, but I didn’t think you’d want me messing with your clothes yet.”

Claire stayed absolutely still, as the pressure from the binder eased, starting at the top and working its way down. Even though it could stand up to pressure, it was no more resistant to a sharp edge than any other fabric. When it finally came loose entirely, she took a deep breath in relief, the first one in what felt like forever. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“No more nasty hiding. Absolutely and categorically forbidden. You’re allowed to wear things that show these beauties off to their best advantage or things that protect them best, depending on circumstances, but no hiding them.” More cutting, severing the shoulder-straps of the binder, then Eureka went back to just ripping clothes apart with considerable enthusiasm. The metal of the gauntlets brushed against Claire’s skin repeatedly, making her shiver—she had some idea just how much strength those things gave her new mistress, but she was quite sure it wouldn’t be turned against her.

Well, not much. Not to ever do her any harm.

Having destroyed jacket, vest, shirt, and binder, leaving them in tatters trapped under Claire, Eureka moved down to give her slacks the same treatment. Her underwear, simple briefs because what was the point of any more effort when she had to be Phantasm, gave at the seams, though the pressure was briefly enough to make Claire’s breath catch. Shoes were already missing, but socks quickly followed.

For a long moment, there was a pause, no contact, no sound. Even the truth music stopped. Claire squirmed, wondering what was going on.

Then Eureka cackled her not-very-intimidating version of an evil laugh.

“My greatest creation ever! Complete success! One unhappy, unfulfilled, halfhearted superhero upgraded to one absolutely impossibly adorable minion. Oh, man, I don’t know how I could ever top that.” Metallic sounds, and then it was skin-on-skin as Eureka stroked Claire’s leg. Claire heard herself whimper softly, and realized she was jerking against the restraints in an effort to encourage the contact. How long had it been since she’d had any kind of physical human contact that wasn’t either combat or preparation for combat?

And that was... she was quite sure that was sexual arousal, but everything felt very different. There was warmth, and a sort of tickling buzzing ache that definitely wasn’t pain, and a whole lot of wetness.

Eureka giggled. “Aww, so cute, all that squirming. All just because I’m doing this?” That hand moved slowly upward, over the outside of Claire’s thigh, finally stopping spread wide over her belly. “I made you a collar. It locks, and it will make it impossible to leave my lair. There’s a key around here, somewhere. Possibly someone clever and sneaky could find it, but otherwise, well, you’re not going anywhere even when I untie you. Gotcha, sexy hero. You’re at my mercy.”

“Um... you’ll never get away with this?”

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that. How am I supposed to get my evil villain jollies?”

Claire gathered her scattered thoughts enough to play along. “I will find that key. You can’t keep me a prisoner forever.”

“You’re in a lair so well-hidden and well-protected that you might just as well have dropped off the face of the earth. You should really resign yourself to being my new favourite toy.”

Claire felt cool slick metal on the skin of her throat, wrapping around it. Something snapped, so loudly it made her start, and Eureka let go. The collar was unexpectedly heavy, not something she was going to be able to forget, but fit so perfectly that it was comfortable regardless.

“Gotcha,” Eureka repeated, and this time it was a predatory purr.

“I’ll find a way to escape, no matter what you do.” Although taking off the collar that Eureka had just locked in place to claim her was roughly the last thing on her to-do list currently. Its presence and weight were making her feel warm in a completely different way.

“Uh-huh. Good luck with that. You’re not even getting off that table until I let you. And that’ll be after I do some testing.”

“Testing? What kind of testing?”

“It can take a few minutes for nerve connections and motor controls and all to remap. You’re my test subject. I need to check whether you’re getting proper sensory feedback. So I need you to tell me where you think I’m touching you. And you might as well cooperate, because I’ll untie you afterwards.”

But being tied down felt good. Every touch of Eureka’s hands made all her attention focus on that one small spot, hungry for more.

Still, it sounded more like Eureka making sure that the transformation had gone the way it should.

Still blind, Claire couldn’t predict where any given touch was going to be. Even more disorienting, one hand was bare, the other gauntleted, and Eureka kept asking whether she could tell which it was.

She could. Her skin felt hypersensitive, picking up absolutely everything in vividly hi-def detail. Arms, legs, fingers, toes, ears, torso, though Eureka avoided the areas that Claire actually wanted badly for her to touch. She rather hoped that whatever she was lying on was moisture-proof, because everything between her legs felt... wet.

“You pass with flying colours,” Eureka said cheerfully. “Sensations appear to be all intact. All the basic ones I can reach, anyway, so your back is likely to also be just fine. As for the rest, they might take just a little longer to rewire. Maybe we’ll test those out later.” That was probably meant to be a sinister leer in her voice, but it just sounded playful.

Claire felt hands on the blindfold, and scrunched her eyes closed against the sudden return of light. When she cautiously opened one, she found that Eureka had a hand cupped just in front of her, blocking most of the light, but after a few seconds she let it drop to toy with the collar instead.

Claire had never seen her without the goggles before, but she wasn’t wearing them now.

She probably wasn’t quite as young as her behaviour and speech patterns suggested—she had to be into her thirties. But then, that made sense, since it would take even a world-class genius time to create the array of inventions she’d demonstrated. Without the goggles pinning them, the brightly-coloured locks of her hair fell down to frame her face. The purple lipstick was the only makeup Claire could see, but then, why bother if you were going to be wearing goggles that hid everything? Those big brown eyes had more than a hint of childlike mischief sparkling in them, though.

But then, what was consensual power exchange but a grown-up version of Let’s Pretend? Potentially stirring up real, deep feelings, and different people varied in how seriously they took it, but how many kids played at being superheroes and supervillains?

“Release me, villain!”

Eureka tilted her head a bit to one side, considering that, then shrugged. “Okay. I want you to see the new you anyway.”

So did Claire, which tempered the sinking feeling as Eureka unbuckled the cuffs around her ankles, then circled around to do Claire’s left wrist. When she leaned across to reach the right wrist, Claire smelled vanilla and raspberry, distracting her long enough for Eureka to finish and step back.

“Motor controls haven’t been tested yet. I don’t think you’re going to be much of a threat right away. But you should probably sit up slowly and make sure you have your balance before you stand up.”

Claire went one better: she raised her hands into her line of sight, not otherwise moving.

They were more narrow, the bones lighter, the soft beige-brown skin more even in tone and just a little paler. Her nails were neatly manicured and deep red with just a hint of pink, long enough to look feminine but not so long as to be impractical. When she flipped them over, there were no callouses, only smooth skin.

Her gaze travelled up her arms, and found much the same: slender, smooth, not a single blemish or mole anywhere, a dusting of very fine light hairs that were barely visible.

Which led her up to her chest, and breasts that were certainly larger than HRT had ever blessed her with. Not excessively huge, though. More than a handful each for her new hands, but not much more. The areolae were strikingly dark.

Blinking tears out of her eyes, Claire sat up. The padded table she was on was narrow enough that she could let her legs fall to either side, though it did mean parting her thighs quite a lot. It was immediately clear that everything down there was completely different.

Toned tummy, not hard, but she could feel muscle under her exploring fingers. A tangle of pale curly hair, and while she couldn’t see much from this angle, what she could see looked so very right. There was muscle in her thighs, too, beneath a layer of fat that smoothed everything out into gentle curves. When she pulled a foot up to look at it, it was also smaller, and her toenails were the same red as her fingernails. Unlike her arms, her legs had no trace of hair.

She reached up to run her hands over her face, and could confirm that it was definitely not her old face—fuller lips, higher cheekbones, smaller chin, no roughness or even a suggestion there had ever been hair anywhere except her eyebrows and eyelashes, but it was hard to visualize without seeing it. With a thought, she created an illusion of a mirror in front of her, so she could look.

Lips the same colour as her nails, black lining her eyes and just a hint of silvery-grey and gunmetal-grey enhancing them, long black lashes surrounding vividly blue eyes that were currently bright with tears. The hair framing her face was a mixture of silver and sky-blue and cotton-candy pink and lilac violet that all but shimmered with every breath, just short of iridescent, and it was long and thick, falling down to her elbows.

The collar around her neck was rolled steel as thick as her smallest finger, with the same rainbow anodized finish as Eureka’s gauntlets and several other favourite toys, and absolutely featureless except for a danging ring at the front.

“I, um, hope you like it,” Eureka said softly, and there was no pretending now, only genuine hope and uncertainty. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be less physically able to fight or anything—actually, you’re probably more agile. I tried simplifying a few things. The nail colour and makeup are built-in and that’s now your natural hair colour. I left it long so you could just get it cut any way you like and not wait for it to grow out or anything. ”

“I’m... I... oh my god. That’s me? For real?”

“Yes. Permanently. I mean, unless you want to change anything. We can still...”

“No! No, please... please don’t...” Claire sniffled.

Eureka scurried off somewhere behind Claire, and returned with a box of tissues, which she set in easy reach on the table; then she circled around behind again, and began to brush that surprisingly heavy mane.

Claire pulled out a couple of tissues to wipe her eyes, then blew her nose.

The motions of the brush through her hair calmed her considerably. She blinked away the lingering tears, and watched in the illusory mirror as Eureka deftly gathered up all that hair, smoothed it out, and twisted a thick black hair elastic around the whole thing to confine it into a tail high on the back of her head.

“There, that should keep it out of your way.” Eureka perched on the table sideways, and tentatively wrapped both arms around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I am... okay doesn’t even come close.” Claire leaned back. Everything in her head had just gone... quiet, for the first time she could remember. She wasn’t just finally, physically, a woman, she was a ridiculously beautiful one. All of the things that had been making her increasingly miserable about civilian life, compulsory League membership, and the oppressive attitudes prevalent in both, that could all be discarded. And someone actually cared. Enough to do all this for her, expecting worse than nothing in return.

Eureka pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Good. Take your time. Whenever you get tired of sitting here all adorable and naked, I have a super-cute maid uniform for you.”

A maid uniform. Of course. What else would a supervillain choose, in an attempt to demonstrate power over a captive?

It probably really was super-cute, and would fit her perfectly, since Eureka knew her measurements down to the millimeter.

She was looking forward to it.

“I don’t suppose you can cook,” Eureka added thoughtfully. “I’m terrible at it.”