Genesis Transformed
Shamefacedly, Shane shuffled into Merle Norman, the cheery chiming of
the doorbell announcing his arrival. He wasn't exactly dressed for the
occasion - his usual ratty t-shirt and ripped jeans felt woefully out of
place amongst the plush waiting area and pastel color scheme. A sheepish
grin tugged at his lips as his gaze landed on Stacy, his best friend,
behind the counter.
Their weekend poker game had taken a drastic turn when Stacy, with a
mischievous glint in her eye, had upped the stakes. Lose, and a full
makeover at her workplace was the consequence. And lose he did,
spectacularly.
"Alright, Mr. Stubborn," Stacy chirped, a playful glint in her eyes,
"ready to become Miss Fabulous?"
Shane mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'torture,'
earning a swat on the arm. She ushered him towards the back, the
rhythmic tapping of his worn-out sneakers a stark contrast to the plush
carpeting.
The first stop was a curtained-off area. Here, armed with a pot of warm
wax and a practiced hand, Stacy embarked on a mission to leave Shane
hairless - eyebrows to toes. The experience was less than pleasant, but
the look of barely concealed glee on Stacy's face made it almost
bearable.
Next came the nails. Gone were his perpetually chipped and bitten nails,
replaced with elegant gel extensions in a soft pink shade. A matching
pedicure followed, complete with a foot massage that had him rethinking
his initial reservations.
Hours melted away in a whirlwind of activity. Hair extensions, a cascade
of dark brown with auburn highlights, were woven into his existing hair.
A talented stylist expertly concealed the extensions, leaving his hair
looking full and luxurious.
Makeup was last. Stacy, with the practiced hand of a seasoned artist,
expertly transformed his face. Foundation evened his skin tone, a touch
of contour sculpted his jawline, and expertly applied eyeshadow and
mascara accentuated his eyes. A pop of color on his lips completed the
look.
Finally, Stacy was stepping back to admire her handiwork. Staring back
at him from the mirror was a woman. Not just any woman, but a stunning,
sultry woman with a head-turning mane of hair, flawless skin, and eyes
that sparkled with a newfound confidence.
"Whoa," he breathed, barely recognizing himself.
Stacy grinned. "Welcome to the fabulous side, Shane. Now, let's get you
out there and turn some heads!"
Stacy's eyes scanned Shane, now Sasha, with a critical but satisfied
glint. "Hmm," she tapped her chin, "a creature as beautiful as you are
now needs a new name. Something with a touch of mystery, a hint of
danger..." A slow smile spread across her face. "Sasha! How does Sasha
sound?"
Shane, or rather Sasha, blinked, the unfamiliar name echoing in the
sterile room. It did have a nice ring to it, a touch of elegance that
somehow fit with the woman staring back at him from the mirror. He
hesitantly nodded, a strange mix of nervousness and something else, a
flicker of something he couldn't quite define, blossoming in his chest.
Stacy clapped her hands once, the sound sharp and final. "Excellent!
Now, let's get you out of that smock and see what this place can do with
your 'evening look.'" With a flourish, she whisked away the black smock,
revealing Sasha in all her newly adorned glory.
But Stacy wasn't done yet. Disappearing behind a curtain, she emerged
moments later with a garment bag slung over her shoulder. "This little
black dress," she announced with a flourish, "is going to knock their
socks off." Indeed, the dress, a simple yet elegant sheath that clung to
Sasha's newly sculpted curves, promised a night of heads turning.
Stacy's ministrations continued. Sheer black stockings shimmered on
Sasha's legs, held up by a delicate black garter belt that peeked
suggestively above the dress's hem. A matching lacey bra and panty set,
revealed only by the plunging neckline of the dress, completed the
picture of understated yet undeniable sensuality.
The final touch was a pair of four-inch platform stilettos. Stacy helped
Sasha slip them on, the unfamiliar height making her wobble at first.
But with a little practice, Sasha found her balance, the feeling
surprisingly empowering. Looking down at her reflection, she barely
recognized herself. Gone was the scruffy friend, replaced by a woman who
exuded an aura of confidence and a hint of something wild.
"There you go, Sasha," Stacy declared, her voice filled with
satisfaction. "Now go out there and conquer the night!" A nervous
flutter danced in Sasha's stomach, but it was quickly overshadowed by a
thrill, a sense of anticipation she hadn't felt in a long time. With a
newfound confidence, Sasha took a step forward, the click-clack of her
heels a declaration of her transformation. The night stretched before
her, full of possibilities, and Sasha, no, Shane, wasn't sure where it
would lead, but for the first time, he wasn't afraid to find out.
The adrenaline surge that accompanied Sasha's first steps on the
sidewalk almost knocked her off balance. Stacy, ever the watchful
friend, steadied her with a laugh. "You'll get the hang of it, Sasha!
Now, let's find a club that could handle this much fabulousness."
Stacy, dressed in a chic pantsuit that accentuated her professionalism,
expertly navigated the bustling city streets. They parked a few blocks
from a club with a thumping baseline that vibrated through the car. As
they emerged, the city lights painting the night sky in a kaleidoscope
of colors, Sasha couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement. This
was unlike anything she had ever experienced.
Suddenly, their walk down the side street was rudely interrupted. Men,
cloaked in darkness and hidden behind masks, materialized from the
shadows with a chilling efficiency. Before Shane, or rather Sasha, could
react, a chloroform-soaked cloth was clamped over her nose and mouth.
The world dissolved into a dizzying haze, the last thing she is
registering the muffled sounds of a similar fate befalling Stacy.
Sasha blinked; her vision blurry at first. Groaning, she tried to lift
her head, but a dull ache pulsed in her scalp, radiating down her neck.
Panic clawed at her throat as she realized she was strapped to a sterile
bed, her wrists and ankles secured with leather cuffs. The room was
stark white, devoid of warmth, with only a single, flickering light bulb
hanging overhead.
Tentatively, she reached up to touch her face, wincing as her fingers
brushed a sore spot on her cheek. Her body felt foreign - a dull ache
settled in her lower back and a strange tightness constricted her chest.
Suddenly, the events of the previous night, the masked figures, the
stifling cloth... it all came flooding back in a terrifying rush.
Then, the door creaked open. A woman in a crisp white lab coat strode
in, her face unreadable. "Welcome back to the living," she said, her
voice devoid of emotion.
Sasha's voice, rough and unfamiliar, croaked out a question. "What...
what happened?"
The woman's lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. "You were lucky,
Sasha. Those thugs you encountered were amateurs. We found you just in
time." She paused, her gaze sweeping over Sasha's body with a detached
clinicalness. "You've been in a medically induced coma for nine months.
You see, we had extensive work to do."
Sasha's heart hammered against her ribs. "Work? What work?"
The woman leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "Extensive
surgical and hormonal alterations, Sasha. You were a blank canvas, and
we've transformed you into a masterpiece. A beautiful, sexy woman."
Terror and a flicker of something akin to morbid curiosity warred within
Sasha. She looked down at her body, the silky sheets draped loosely over
unfamiliar curves. Her breath hitched as she reached down, her fingers
hesitantly brushing against the fullness of her chest.
"Large breasts, of course," the woman continued, her voice devoid of any
apology. "And complete anatomical reconstruction. You are now, for all
intents and purposes, a woman."
The woman's words hit Sasha like a physical blow. Raped. Mutilated. Left
for dead. Bile rose in her throat, the sterile room suddenly
suffocating. Her mind reeled, trying to grasp the horrifying reality.
"Stacy..." she whispered, the name a broken plea.
The woman's face remained impassive. "Your friend... less fortunate.
Most likely sold into the slavery ring those thugs belonged to. The
police are investigating, but without witnesses..." she trailed off, a
shrug conveying the bleakness of the situation.
Sasha's mind burned. Anger, grief, and a terrifying vulnerability
threatened to consume her. But beneath it all, a spark of defiance
ignited. They might have taken her friend, her old life, but they hadn't
broken her spirit.
"Why save me?" she rasped, her voice gaining a sliver of strength.
The woman studied her for a long moment, a flicker of something
unreadable crossing her eyes. "We have... uses for someone like you now,
Sasha. But that's a story for another time."
With that, the woman turned and left, the heavy click of the door
echoing in the sterile silence. Sasha was alone, her body a canvas
painted with stolen femininity, her future an uncertain nightmare. Yet,
amidst the terror, a steely resolve bloomed within her. She would find
Stacy. She would survive, not as the woman they created, but as a force
of vengeance, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, forever
marked by the brutality she had endured.
