If you like my art, sketches, stories, transformations you can find more like this on my Patreon page or in DeviatArt Premium Early Access folder for subscribers here. Every bit of support is truly appreciated, but just having you here means the most to me - without you, none of this would have been possible. Thank you very much!
Check also my shop at DeviantArt for other works
Emma listened, holding her breath. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly it seemed to echo through the empty room.
— A-and what did he say? — she whispered, stepping closer, looking up at him — his towering figure above her like some divine presence that would finally explain everything.
Dan leaned in, his face so near she could feel his breath. His fingers brushed her hand, slow and deliberate, and though Mark’s body tensed instinctively, he… didn’t pull away. Something squeezed in his chest — not fear, no. Something else. Something strange, warm, and painfully unfamiliar.
"Does he… does he really believe me? Or…" Her mind raced, but the tears were already welling in her eyes, blurring her vision.
— He said… — Dan paused, as if he were about to reveal something deeply personal. — That you and I… are connected somehow. That you need to understand this. That it’s… not just a coincidence, Emma.
"Not a coincidence, Emma… Yes, but I’m not Emma, and what the hell…" Mark’s thoughts spiraled, but instead of anger, it only left him more confused. "Damn it… why… why am I crying?"
The tears spilled faster. Dan gently squeezed her hand. His gaze… But Mark didn’t see it, couldn’t. All he felt was, for the first time in a long while, the sensation of being heard. Of not being alone.
— Emma… don’t cry, — Dan whispered, softly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. His voice sounded so genuine, warm, with a husky edge. Yet beneath that tenderness, his former softness was gone, replaced by quiet certainty — though Emma, too overwhelmed, didn’t notice.
Inside Mark, a storm raged. "This… this is wrong! Why do I feel like this? Is it this body? The hormones? Or… have I just… been alone too long?"
— I… — Emma couldn’t hold back anymore. She abruptly pulled her hand free and yanked off her backpack, digging inside.
— Here! Look! — Emma abruptly opened the book, her hands trembling, but she kept feverishly flipping through the pages. — It’s him! The book with the jester! I found it in my room! That drawing… that awful grin… he was there! I… I got mad at Mom and then… — She spoke quickly, her voice cracking, breath coming in short bursts, as if the words were forcing their way out. — The jester appeared after! He was real! A nasty… a nasty little freak! He… he said he granted my wish! Damn it, not mine — Emma’s — but for some reason, I don’t remember it like that! I remember it like I said it!
She kept turning the pages faster, her face going pale as she realized — the drawing was gone.
— No… no, he was here! I remember! I saw him! — Her fingers trembled even more, flipping through the pages faster, as if that could somehow change the outcome. — Why? Where is he?! Why isn’t he here?! — Her voice shook, eyes wide, staring at the empty pages with a desperate, almost crazed expression. — You saw it too, right? I’m not crazy, I’m… I’m not…
— Emma… — Dan’s voice was quiet but heavy, yet she didn’t hear him.
— I didn’t imagine it! That smile, those words! It happened! — She looked up at him, eyes filled with fear and desperation. — He did something to me! I… I was someone else! A man! Mark! I…
The book slipped from her trembling fingers. The dull thud of it hitting the floor made her freeze. Dan stepped forward.
— Emma… — he repeated, his voice steadier now, louder, something in it enough to make her stop rambling.
He stepped closer. And then again. Emma couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face.
— But I’m not… — She tried to back away, but her shoulders pressed against the cold wall.
Dan was so close now she could feel his breath, warm against her skin.
— It doesn’t matter who you were. What matters is who you are now, Emma. — His hand brushed her cheek, gentle, yet Mark flinched inside. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. — To me… you’re perfect just like this.
She froze. Everything blurred.
"What… what is he doing? He… he’s just… no… this… this is wrong…"
But his lips were already moving closer. Slow. Confident. She felt her body betray her, muscles tensing but not moving. Eyes widening.
"No… is he even listening to me?!"
She jerked away at the last moment, but all she managed was to turn her face aside. His lips missed their mark, pressing roughly, firmly against her cheek instead. The coarse, scratchy stubble scraped her skin like sandpaper, leaving a raw, stinging burn.
Emma shuddered, shoulders reflexively drawing in. Her heartbeat pounded heavily in her ears, but summoning every ounce of willpower, she shoved him back, almost striking his chest with both hands.
Dan staggered back slightly, just enough for Emma to step away, putting a safe distance between them. His lips twitched, the smirk faltering into a brief, strained look of surprise. But within seconds, he straightened again, jaw clenching tight.
— What’s wrong with you? — His voice turned sharper, rougher, but for a split second, confusion flickered in his eyes before that smug fire reignited. — I don’t give a damn about that stupid book, Emma. What matters is that you’re mine.