Hippolyta had consulted the seers. There was no disputing their prophecies. Diana would soon leave Themascera for man’s world and never return.

Her fate might be clear. But it was far from sealed. Even the seers were subservient to the weave of fate.

“You called for me, mother?” The young amazon was adjusting her clothing as she stepped into the hall of the Moirai where the ancient, powerful loom was kept.

“I see you and the male were together,” Hippolyta said, turning her gaze to the weave where the thread of purest gold that represented her daughter touched against the dull, cotton thread that was the outsider. Hippolyta stared forlornly at her own silver strand which had run in parallel with her daughter’s golden thread for so long, knowing mother and daughter would soon be parted forever as Diana ventured towards a great but dangerous destiny.

“I want you to know I do this for your own good,” Hippolyta said, reaching for the loom. She’d been here when the aging Clotho had still tended to it, and had even watched the woman work. Hipolyta’s hands danced across the weave of fate, plucking, breaking, and reforging threads with deft twists of her fingers. She ignored her daughter’s dwindling scream of panic, focusing entirely at the task at hand as she wove her daughter out of reality, and inserted herself into the hole left in destiny that had once been fated for Diana.

When it was done, she looked down at the weave. The silver strand had been severed and reconnected seamlessly with the gold thread, while her daughter’s destiny had become a thread of black silk. Hippolyta turned her attention to her beautiful, buxom body, knowing she now wore the young body and face - no, the entire life and destiny - of her daughter. She disrobed her queenly mantle and paced across the hall to where a pair of black silk panties lay in precisely the spot Diana had been standing.

The garment gasped in a tiny voice as Hippolyta picked them up. “Mother?! What have you done to me?!” It must be disorientating for her to be staring up into what had been her face moments before, Hippolyta thought.

“You’ll be safer like this,” Hippolyta soothed her, lowering her daughter to begin slipping her up her legs. “I’ve taken the burden of your destiny for myself.” She tugged the panties snugly into place against her pussy. Glancing back at the weave, she saw the cotton thread now intimately interwoven with her own. The male was waiting for her. What had been his name? She searched her daughter's memories. Ah. 'Steve'.

The panties pleaded to the Amazonian guards for help as Hipolyta strode towards the chamber where the outsider was held. The guards paid her no mind.

“Protest all you like. They can hear you but your destiny is to be panties and nothing more. That is all they will ever see you as.”

She had taken everything from her daughter. As her gaze fell on the male from outside, on his brutish yet strangely fascinating appearance, and she felt the heat of arousal flood her young body, Hippolyta knew she had taken her love for this man too.