<-- Episode 1

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Bright light. It filled the space around you.

You were falling as if through thousands of screens at once, and every moment brought a new sensation, a new skin, each one accompanied by a new voice coming at the same time from somewhere specific and from everywhere.

The first sharp stab in the chest, a flash. You inhaled and hissed from the shock: your ribcage seemed to shift its rhythm, something soft, pulling downward, swayed on your body for the first time. You couldn’t see it, only felt how the weight changed your balance.

— «Village girl in goblin slayer» — echoed, as if someone else was dictating your reality.

And right away you felt the rough fabric of a coarse skirt against your thighs, the smell of manure and smoke, dirt under your bare feet. For a moment you were a village girl, but the next moment the image dissolved.

— «His soul is split through out the multiverse…»

You jerked. As if you were torn apart, and each piece of your “self” lived somewhere in another body. You felt thousands of voices at once, thousands of bodies, thousands of fates. Or… yours?

— «Oh, mortals… always so easily fooled…» — the voice rang with mockery.

And you saw you were in a cramped space. Was it a cage? A stone cell? But no, it vanished again. Yet after that visit a grim aftertaste lingered in your chest, as if everything had already been decided for you, without asking. As if you were just a pawn. And then again—

— «Becomes a busty bimbo twin mild trophy wife…»

You choked. For a moment your body became so light, your breasts so unbearably heavy and firm, that you instinctively jerked your shoulders back to straighten your spine, but the weight only grew, pulling at the skin of your tits so hard you wanted to rip them off yourself. Your lips seemed to swell from within, turning wet and plump, and in your mouth flashed a sweet emptiness, a craving to fill it with something… something long. But within a second another jolt came. Everything dissolved, leaving behind heat on your skin and shame at the thoughts that had invaded you in those moments.

— «Becomes a 14 year old freshmen girl…»

Suddenly you were standing in front of a school blackboard, a skirt pressing against your waist, hair falling into your eyes. The whispers of classmates behind you cut at your ears. You don’t know the answer to the problem, and mom will scold you at home. One of the boys, who for some reason stirs strange feelings in you, shouts from his desk, "See? I told you girls are dumb!" Shame burns you. You scream inside, 'No, I’m smart! I’ll prove it, I want everyone to like me! I want to be the best girl!' But then the image vanished again, leaving you confused and torn between feelings.

— «Wolfgirl onboard a sci-fi ship…» — the voice came, and in the same instant you felt a sharp jolt along your spine.

You jerked and instantly realized something had appeared behind you. A tail?! Your own tail! Heavy, alive, moving on its own. It slapped against your legs, while you panicked, trying to stop it, but your muscles refused to obey. On your head… movement. Ears. 'No, no, no!' you began, and at once your fear turned into a howl. A real, feral howl tearing out of your throat.

The voices kept sounding around you, as if an invisible crowd was arguing, choosing your fate:

— “Becomes an 18-year-old girl in a whole new reality!”

— “Becomes a princess in a medieval fantasy world!”

These lines echoed again and again, louder and louder, until your wolf form dissolved, and your body began to collapse, break, rebuild itself from the inside.

You wheezed, clawing at the air. Your ribs squeezed tight, your waist narrowed, your hips spread to the sides as if they were being sculpted anew. You felt the weight once again hanging from your chest, but this time it wasn’t some fleeting hallucination. Soft, heavy shapes pressed against each other, pulling downward, and every breath carried sweet pain through your new female breasts.

— Oh God, what… what is this… — you exhaled, hearing how suddenly bright and melodic your voice had become, as if some classic Disney princess were the one speaking.

And then at last, a flash. Brighter and longer.

You wince. The feeling was as if you really had just looked straight into a camera flash, and now your eyes were slowly regaining the ability to see.

And the first thing you notice is not the walls of your gray apartment, but the bright air. Thick, warm, filled with the smell of river moisture and fresh greenery. In front of you lies vastness, a view from a tall tower. Stone battlements of the balcony stretch to the sides, and beyond them opens a whole world: a river, a bridge, a city with red roofs, and further away, another castle.

But your gaze instantly falls down on yourself, because you can clearly feel something is not right with your body.

On your breasts, rising and falling heavily with each breath, lies velvet. Thick, heavy, it seems to breathe with you. Breasts… you have breasts! Soft, firm, pulling you downward with weight, and with every step or breath they tremble slightly inside the tight grip of the dress. The corset squeezes your waist so tightly that you can only take shallow gulps of air, your ribs groaning under the pressure.

You raise your hand and see how thin and feminine it has become. Not a hint of what you had your whole life. Long fingers, tender skin, a delicate golden pattern along the velvet sleeve. The movement feels alien… and at the same time far too real. Only now do you notice something partly blocking your view. Light, curled locks fall onto your shoulder and tickle your collarbone, making you shiver suddenly as if from a stranger’s touch. The high wind plays with them, and they softly brush against your cheek, teasing you.

You try to say something.

— What… — the voice that escapes you is bright, feminine. Thin, high-pitched. The vibration in your chest sends a tremor through you, and your soft curves respond to the sound with a faint sway. You can’t believe this is you making that sound.

You take another breath. The corset stretches tight, your breasts lift slightly, pressing as if they want to burst free from the fabric’s prison. The velvet warms you, but at the same time caresses your skin from within—you can feel it even through the thin chemise.

— This… can’t be… — you exhale, hearing how your own voice still rings with the same musical tone.

The wind brushes over you again, and in that moment your breasts shift slightly in the neckline, heavy and tangible. You rest your palm on the stone of the balcony and feel its rough coldness, a sharp contrast to the heat of your new body.

Heat floods you. The voices. Now you understand everything. You are standing in the body of an eighteen-year-old girl, with heavy breasts, in a velvet dress—you’re a princess?

— And how long do you plan to just stand there, my dear? — a commanding female voice sounded behind you.

You flinch. The voice behind you carries so much authority and confidence that everything inside your chest tightens, and your breasts jolt sharply within the corset. You turn abruptly, feeling your curled hair softly whip against your cheek, the corset refusing to let you move freely, tugging at your ribs and waist.

— I… — slips out of you in a quiet, almost sing-song voice, and again you hear that bright melodiousness that turns everything inside you upside down.

A woman stands before you. Tall, in a strict dress adorned with fine embroidery. She doesn’t smile, her look is more evaluative, cold, even arrogant, as if she sees not you, but a child with no right to decide anything.

She folds her arms over her breasts and tilts her head slightly, her voice ringing firm:

— You should be preparing for your coming-of-age trial, Celestia, not staring into nothing like some peasant girl seeing castle towers for the first time, — her voice was so sharp you flinched involuntarily. The woman cast you a disdainful glance and added, — Though I believe it’s a waste of time anyway, as if passing an evaluation of your magic will stop you from being a naïve little girl.

What do you do?

Just a reminder of the rules:

1. You write a comment with your version

2. You like the comments (yours or others’) with the versions you enjoy

3. After some time, the version with the most likes wins (or maybe I’ll set up a poll, hell, I don’t really know how this will work yet )

IMPORTANT:
All characters must be 18+
If one of the suggested options doesn’t meet the rules for publishing here, or I’m not ready to write on that topic, that option won’t be counted.