White hot anger churned through me, like boiling lava moving with each beat of my racing heart. I saw him standing there, right before my eyes, yet I still could not believe that that bastard, who I'd once called friend, was betraying me like this. Sure, our falling out hadn't been pretty and, as of this morning, our "friendship" was still firmly in the "to be determined" category, but this was certifiably insane.

 

Another man, this one in a blue robe, stood next to the man in white and proclaimed, "Are you ready to sever your emotional bonds with the mundane world?" He stared down at Sven from the dais, a withering look emanating from beneath his hood. If a look could kill, Sven would be in trouble.

 

Sven stood in the man's gaze, strong and proud, so unlike the man I knew, and announced, "The mundane holds no sway over me."

 

Seemingly satisfied, the man in blue smiled and retook his seat as another man, this time in dark green robes, rose to proclaim, "You are free to proceed."

 

A deafening silence settled over the room as the man in green sat, and Sven turned toward me. I thrashed against my magical bonds, fear and fury pushing my muscles to their breaking point, striving for salvation; yet, I didn't move an inch. Whatever magic was used to march me to my doom still had an iron grip on me. All I could do was await my fate and hope that my hateful stare would set Sven on fire before he could complete his task.

 

Sven raised his arms and began chanting some words that I couldn't understand. As he spoke, the floor I was kneeling on lit up with brilliant, ethereal lights. A strange pattern quickly filled out beneath me and I found myself lifting into the air.

 

I floated high into the air, gently turning, until I reached eye level with the white robed wizard. Embarrassed doesn't even begin to describe how mortified I was displayed before these sick fuckers, like a high-end car, turning on a showroom floor. I usually hid my body from any form of scrutiny. Lord knows I'm unhappy with my tiny tits, lack of curves, and the uncomfortable bits between my legs, but I was not afforded any ability to obscure a single part of my anatomy. I could only hover in limbo, spread-eagle, awaiting my fate.

 

Heat blossomed in my core, not the painful burning that was used to torture me earlier, but a pleasant, almost erotic fire that began at my core and suffused through every inch of body. It felt like a calming hot-stone massage or a session of bikram yoga; my body felt soft and relaxed, like wet clay ready for sculpting.

 

Like wet clay, it seemed that I too would be sculpted. As the magical heat calmed my body, I felt a pressure gathering in my nether region; it was neither painful or pleasant, just insistent. The phantom pressure pushed and pulled at my nethers doing something I couldn't be sure of. My mind filled with images of flat Ken Doll like surfaces or worse, large, powerful dicks that might be replacing my current equipment. I could only assume it would be the latter, given the fact that I had only seen men since waking, and I wasn't exactly the picture of femininity that I'd hoped to become.

 

What vexed me, was wondering how I'd missed the fact that my ex best friend was gay. We'd known each other our whole lives. we'd been through new relationships and subsequent break-ups, the highs and lows, I'd even told him my darkest secrets. Yet he had managed to keep his attraction to men a secret from me. I thought I was his rock, a safe place for him to be vulnerable and honest, but apparently, I was wrong. I must have been too wrapped up in myself to see what he truly needed and would now pay the price by being forced to play the role of his man-servant for the remainder of my days.

 

I knew Sven was messed up, that's why I ended our friendship, but I never could have imagined that he could be this cruel. He knows me, he knows everything about me, yet of all the people he could have chosen to live out his twisted fantasy with, he chose me. I hyperventilated, panicking as thoughts of my horrible future cause my head to spin faster than I was already moving. I couldn't do it, I had to escape before he locked me into his perfect little boy-toy body.

 

Suddenly, the room lit up with thunderous applause. The man in white announced, "What a perfect example of womanhood you have created Sven. If the remainder of her transformation follows suit, then she will be quite the beauty."

 

Womanhood? Beauty? She!? What the hell is happening to me? I'm given no time to fully grasp the situation, however, as Sven fliped me like a freaking pancake, making sure I'm staring directly at him. I tried to communicate with him the very limited facial expressions my frozen state afforded me, but he paid me no mind. He simply smirked at me and gave me a wink before resuming his chanting.

 

Gods damn his smug face is so punchable! If I wasn't suspended ten feet in the air, I'd show him just what I think of him. Unfortunately I was suspended ten feet in the air and subject to his mystical whims. At least it seemed my fate was to become a female sex slave, so I wouldn't have to deal with a bombarding of gender dysphoria every day. Though, I'd lived my life up to this point dealing with gender dysphoria, so that might be preferable to being subject to Sven's every wish and desire; not that I had a choice at the moment.

 

Sven's magic diffused away from my newly formed womanhood, gathering out to the tips of my limbs. The same insistent pressure warps and shapes my hands, legs, and arms as it moves toward my chest. There wasn't any pain to the process, just a strange discomfort at the pushing and pulling of the magic as it lengthened some things and shortened others. My limbs felt the way pulling taffy looks, gooey enough to be manipulated, yet solid enough to hold form.

 

I'm certain that I looked rather bizarre as the transformation continued. My original torso with mismatched, presumably very feminine arms and legs. I felt like a thrift store doll, mashed together with salvaged parts and sold to whoever would take me.

 

The magical heat filled my torso from the tip of my hips all the way to the top of my head, and just as before, my body began being formed into a shape of Sven's liking. A crushing pressure compressed my ribs and waist, shrinking it away from my former broadness, into something more lithe and attractive. Meanwhile, an explosive "pop" signified that my hips, unlike the rest of my body, was undergoing a substantial expansion. Sven always did like his girls curvy.

 

At the same time as my body underwent it's metamorphosis, my face was sculpted into a feminine visage. Sven's magic worked on me like the hands of Michelangelo, slowly, sensually, painstakingly crafting my every piece into his David...well, his Diana. Chestnut brown hair tumbled into my vision to hang several feet below my floating form. I much preferred the wild pinks and purples that had adorned my hair up until recent, but it seemed Sven had other ideas. He always did say that the "pop punk" look was childish.

 

The heat finally began to quiet and return to the smoldering source at my core. I couldn’t believe it was done. I was actually, factually, finally a woman in mind, body, and soul. Tears dripped down to the floor below me as a torrent of emotion swelled in my chest; my dreams had become my reality, but quickly turned into nightmares

 

For a brief, glorious moment, the joy was almost too much to bear, then my body jerked upright and my joy became sorrow. I was instantly reminded of the purpose of my miracle transformation as I spun in the air, like a doll in a display case.

 

"She is quite beautiful Sven," the man in white called out from his throne, "though I am surprised to see how conservative you've been with her...proportions."

 

"Oh, I'm not done," Sven replied, his voice full of perverted mirth. "I just wanted to shift her position, so you all can get a better look at her last modifications."

 

Apparently we're not done with this farce. "Just fucking great." I thought to myself.

 

Once again, the flames of Sven's magic roared back to life, swiftly traveling to my rear, my chest, and the top of my head for some strange reason. I get him wanting a bit more in the T&A department -- truth be told, I wouldn't mind that much either. -- but the top of my head seemed an odd place to modify after already growing my hair down to my ass. What was he planning? Was he going to give me cat ears or horns? Was that even possible? Surly there had to be limits to this transformation.

 

An expected weight built on my chest. Here we go; time to see how much I'm going to save on implants. The weight built and built, further than I would have expected from Sven; he had always attested to liking chesty women, but he would always follow that with the old misogynistic trope of "anything more than a handful was a waste." If the weight I was feeling was any indication, Sven was crafting far more than "a handful" for me.

 

A similar, though less substantial, weight gathered in my rear. My skin stretched and expanded, I could feel every magical injection of fat and muscle. I dreaded the moment that I could finally see myself. If Sven's previous girlfriends were any indication of where I might end up, I was going to turn out like a Pixar mom: waspish waist and a dump truck of an ass, with childbearing hips that would let a baby walk out doing the Texas Two-step.

 

Then it stopped. At least, it stopped in my rear. The heat still coursed through my head and chest, but it vanished from my rear as though it had never been there in the first place.

 

None of this made any sense. I thought that I was meant to become Sven's dream-girl -- though, admittedly, I originally thought I would end up a dream-boy -- but I didn't feel like I matched the kind of girl he'd always described. My ass stopped swelling before anything else, meaning that it was, most likely, smaller than any of Sven's previous girlfriends. Yet, at the same time, the mystical heat continued to inflate my already substantial chest. Confused, puzzled, perplexed; nothing could possibly describe how strange this all seemed to me.

 

The swelling pressure in my chest finally died down letting the weight of my gargantuan breasts settle into my body. I had no way of gauging where Sven stopped my growth, but given the time it took and the weight I felt, I was reasonably certain that I'd be shopping at specialty stores for the rest of my life. After I kill Sven, of course.

 

A final rush of heat and energy rushed out from my core, coursing through my body one last time before blasting outward. The whole process left me exhausted, yet, at the same time feeling better than I had in years. Not only were my mind and body finally congruent, but I felt clear headed and energetic. I felt better than I ever had in my teens; better than even the prime of my life.

 

Gravity once again took hold of me, gently descending back to the raised floor. The men in the room stared slack-jawed, almost mesmerized by me. I couldn’t be that pretty, could I?

 

"What an exceptional beauty," The man in white called out, "and unique to boot. She will certainly be a statement, attesting to your prowess. I'm so proud of you, my grandson."

 

Sven walked to stand at my side, condesendingly patting head like he would a dog. "I seek only to glorify our family name." Sven said to his grandfather. "I believe my pet and I will bring great honor to both our family and our order."

 

Pet? Is that what I was to these people? One minute I'm in a dungeon being tortured, the next I'm forced into "my place" by some sadist asshole, then I'm transformed into a guy's walking wet dream, and now I'm being called a pet. What the fuck is happening to me?

 

"This is Yumi." Sven declared for the audience of men. "Her training name shall be 'Yuyu'."

 

I don't get it. Sven knows that Yumi is just my nickname. If he's trying to own me or whatever this is, shouldn't he use my real name or something? Isn't that how magic works, with true names and such?

 

"This council accepts this pairing and the names you have chosen. You may now brand her so all might know that she belongs to you."

 

Hold right the fuck up. Did that psycho say "brand"? As in hot iron and burning flesh “brand”? This just keeps getting crazier.

 

A man approached and handed Sven an iron rod. It looked menacing enough, with its dark, rough looking exterior, and a cudgel like ball mounted to its tip, but it didn't look like any branding iron I'd ever seen. There was no shape or markings that would make it unique to him. It wasn't even hot. Usually, branding irons are cherry red right before use, but this thing looked positively inert. My heart soared as I allowed myself to believe that this was yet more ceremony and I wouldn't actually be branded.

 

My soaring heart crashed directly into the Bermuda Triangle of despair as he waved his hand over the end of the iron. I watched as the dark metal twisted and turned, becoming malleable before hardening in an intricate pattern of smooth loops and jagged edges. Another passing wave saw the metal light up with an ethereal blue flame that settled and absorbed into the brand, leaving the sigil pulsing with energy.

 

I continuously forgot that I was dealing with wizards, real life magic users. How could I possibly keep forgetting? The existence of magic alone was enough to shake my world view, but I'd also had the "privilege" of experiencing magic first hand. This was all so new, still unreal to my mind steeped in the reality I once knew, but if I wanted any hope of making it out alive I could not let myself forget who I was dealing with.

 

As Sven turned back toward me, branding iron in hand, I tried to bolt. I raged against my frozen body hoping that me force of will or my pure terror might overwhelm the spells keeping me kneeling in supplication. I was rewarded for my effort with a few tears able to spill from my eyes. I was too be branded as Sven's property; my only shred of agency allowing me to close my eyes from fear as he reached out to do the dirty deed.

 

In the moments before we experience pain, many people anticipate what's about to happen. Our blood pressure spikes, our muscles tense, and we think of all the horrible feelings and sensations that might lay ahead. I honestly think the anticipation is the worst part. I'd already been put through Hell today, tortured with pain I struggle to describe and then filled to the brim with utter despair for my slights, yet I'd managed to convince myself that this branding would somehow be worse. What could I do though? So I tensed, every inch of my skin alight and filling my brain with any minor perceptive information it could send. I steeled myself for the pain I knew was coming.

 

I was surprised when I felt, not a burning hot iron, but a large, strong hand caress the skin of my arm. Sven was meant to be marking me, branding me, burning me with a medieval implement, yet he was taking a moment to comfort me. Why? Why not hurt me an be done? He'd already had me kidnapped and transformed my body, why did this require a moment of deference from him?

 

"I know this seems scary," Sven whispered to me. "But it's going to be ok."

 

Curiosity got the better of me, so I opened my eyes, just enough to peek and assess my situation. I saw Sven. He had stooped down to talk to me, to comfort me, to assure me that everything would be okay. My pulse quickened and I felt a flush rush through my cheeks at the realization. He was actually concerned about me. After all this time, after all our fights, he still cared. A thought tickled at the back of my mind, an intangible fleeting thing that I knew was important, but couldn't seem to grab hold of. I guess it must not be that important. No, what was important in this moment is that Sven was still my friend, he was still here for me when I needed him most.

 

Sven gently cupped my chin and angled my head to look directly in his eyes. He assured me, "This won't hurt a bit. It's a magical brand that binds you to me. It uses magic, not heat, to do its work, so you won't feel a thing."

 

He was being so kind, assuring me and sating my fears. I didn't deserve a friend like him. I felt the hot, salty sting of tears welling in my eyes once again. This time however, I was shedding tears from adoration, not fear. With Sven beside me I knew I could make it through this ceremony.

 

He stood and addressed me once more, seemingly looking for my approval. I still had only minor control of my face and no control over my body or voice, so I tried to signify my assent with a look. He nodded and raised the glowing brand back up, before pressing it into the side of my upper arm.

 

Pain crackled through me like it was trying to reach the core of my being, dropping from a high that I had no idea I was enjoying. I fell from that high faster than a skydiver with no parachute. It felt like my veins were filled with lava that was melting me from the inside out. The pain was so intense that I managed to break Sven's spells that had arrested my body, unfortunately the only movement I could muster was to throw my head back and scream like a dying animal.

 

My vocal chords shredded from my howling screams, I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, but it delivered no catharsis for my suffering. Sven held the source of my agony tight to my arm, unwilling to relent, unwilling to give up his claim.

 

In the faint corners of my fading vision I noticed the cavalcade of robed men standing from their seats. Some even leapt from the viewing area and ran to our side. I couldn't tell what any of them were saying, some were staring at me, some looked toward Sven, and still more were left dazed and covering their ears. I assumed they were trying to help Sven complete the ritual, as I'm certain they had no interest in my well-being. Something had obviously gone horribly wrong and I was, yet again, the victim of Sven's fuck-up.

 

Soon enough, but not nearly soon enough for my liking, the pain stopped. In fact everything stopped, all at once. No visions of monstrous kidnapping men, no more scents of waffling cologne and sweat, and no more sounds of screaming dying creatures. Blackness became the entirety of my existence. Still, calm, peaceful blackness.

 

I floated through the endless void for some time, it could have been days, years, or all of eternity for all I knew. Things such as time grew increasingly meaningless the longer I floated here. I could only guess that I'd died, and this was my journey to the afterlife. Or maybe this inky blackness is all that awaits us on the other side of the veil. After all, how could I truly judge the machinations of existence? My life amounted to nothing but a series of increasingly costly failures that ultimately coalesced in a painful demise. Who was I to say that the afterlife left quite a lot to be desired? Nobody. That’s who.

 

Thoughts and memories flowed unfettered through my mind. As I traveled the unending void my entire life passed before me as though I were viewing through the lens of a virtual reality headset, present, yet not truly in the physical space. My visions zoomed in fast forward through the more mundane parts, but slowed and stretched the moments that truly mattered: the day I met the person who would one day be my wife, our wedding day, the good times, and the bad. As all my most significant moments passed back into the halls of cherished memories I felt my heart pulsing a warm, radiant heat from the love I felt for her. She was my whole world, my everything, but after all we'd been through, I was left drifting through eternity alone as I left her for the afterlife. All because of Sven…

 

———♤————♡————◇————♧———

 

No! This isn't how I would let my story end. I promised my life to my partner and I intended to give it to her. No pissant former friend was going to come between us. Not now, not ever. I wouldn't allow it.

 

I summoned every emotion I had in me, my love, my rage, my fear, and my pain. I gathered it all in my chest like a star pulling in matter before bursting into the brilliant nuclear inferno that shines in the night sky. I forced those feelings to empower my will until I stopped drifting and shot back toward whence I came. Back toward the living world and my mission to reunite with my love.

 

Air rushed into my deflated lungs like a tsunami crashing into the coast. Lights, sounds, smells, and sensations all rushed back the instant I returned to my body. Every sensation rattled me to my core, the volume of sensation turned up so much that I couldn't maintain focus. People rushed this way and that, yelling at one another or shouting commands to women I assumed to be fellow slaves. The once calm ritual space had erupted in a cacophony of chaotic commotion.  Even the smells of cotton, sweat, and cologne from the wizards tending to my formerly lifeless form overpowered my ability to move past anything besides confusion. It felt like standing in the middle of a midnight rave right in front of the bass thumping speakers.

 

Then someone touched me and everything went silent; it wasn't a passing bump or even the concerned check in of a nurse taking vitals. It was the gentle caress of a lover, my lover. I could tell from the intensity of the connection I felt in that moment. Somehow she'd found me, intent on rescuing me from damnation. She'd fought off these monstrous wizards to reach me, like a knight in shining armor. A keen observer might wonder how my lover could possibly be by my side with the number of powerful, evil wizards currently surrounding me. Honestly? I had no idea, but I knew my feelings told me she was by my side and that’s all that mattered.

 

My heart swelled, flooding me with warm, cuddly love. I couldn't wait for a private moment, I had to show my appreciation right now to my brave knight. I reached up behind her head and pulled her down for a passionate reunion kiss.

 

Her lips met mine and I felt real comfort in knowing that I lay safely in my lover's arms. I melted into the kiss, trying my damndest to taste every part of her mouth. As I partook of my romantic desires, I started to notice some things. Coincidentally, these revelations coincided with my senses returning to normal. Her hands felt larger than they had the last time they held me, her lips also felt thinner and firmer, and even her face felt different. I opened my eyes to see what was going on, only to be met with ruddy brown eyes.

 

The world snapped into focus in an instant. I was feeling a man's hands on my back, his thin lips on mine, and his scratchy stubble on my cheeks. Not just any man mind you, but the very architect of my destruction Sven. I wrenched myself away in revulsion, breaking our unfortunate kiss. Strangely enough, a twinge of longing that lingered in the back of my mind as I pulled away; not enough to cover my absolute disgust mind you, but the sensation couldn't simply be ignored.

 

He bore down on me with his annoyingly cocky smile, "Wow. I didn't expect you to be so enthusiastic. I guess I'm hotter than…"

 

Sven didn’t get  a chance to finish his gloating. Every word spewing from his mouth filled me with rage. How dare he kiss me -- I know that I kissed him, but that's not the point -- after everything he'd put me through, after everything he'd done to me. I punched him squarely in the middle of his stupid face for his transgressions. I felt my fist make contact and pushed a very surprised Sven away, aware that I was not exerting as much force as I once could. I surmised that Sven crafted this body to be physically weaker than him -- it always bugged him that I was the stronger of the two of us -- but I did feel a rather crunchy "pop" radiate from where my punch met Sven's face, so satisfaction was mine in the end..

 

Pin-drop silence overtook the room. All the men rushing to and fro stopped dead, staring at Sven and I in disbelief. You'd think that in a room full of wizards nothing would shock anyone, especially not a simple punch. Then I realized what was going on. I'd successfully assaulted my Master and didn't feel any kind of magical backlash. The last time, when I attempted to attack the man in the black robes, I'd been hit back with so much force it felt like a right cross courtesy of Mike Tyson. Yet here, in front of all these powerful men, I felt nothing but the satisfaction of knowing I'd injured my asshole ex-friend.

 

Sven sat back up, clutching his nose. He tried to stop the obvious bleeding of a freshly broken nose, but did a miserable job as per usual. I could only smile as I watched fresh bright red blood drip from his clenched fist. He regarded me with a look of shock that told me that I should not have been able to do what I'd just done.

 

"How the hell did you just do that?" He asked, finally breaking the oppressive silence.

 

I looked down at my hand to admire the perfect skin of my knuckles stained from Sven's blood. "I don't know," I replied, "but it felt good."

 

I shot a death glare directly at Sven. He was afraid. Whether or not he was afraid of me or the situation he'd found himself in I couldn't tell you, though I honestly didn't care. Sven was off his  mark, his paper thin confidence falling into tattered shreds, and he was back to being the same sniveling loser that I'd left years ago.

 

Overconfident and slightly drunk on endorphins, I decided to push my luck and see if I could land another hit or two. I lunged towards the terrified wizard, hands outstretched and looking to kill. As I made contact with my Master I went completely limp. I collided with Sven like a crash test dummy hitting a wall. He barreled over and I came to rest on his chest. Laying on top of him, ragdolled as I was, I felt the mass of my new breasts crushing into my ribs and making it hard to breathe properly. He really went overboard when crafting my new body.

 

I noticed Sven's hand tightly gripping my leash, a moment before my world went dark for what felt like the thousandth time today. Of Course that dick would manage to render me unconscious before I could claw his eyes out. As the blissful embrace of sleep whisked me away all I could think was, "What a bastard."