Claire woke up in a fog, the last thing she remembered was taking a sip of tea, and then ... black. She sat up in bed, but that was the extent how much she was able to move: her legs remained flat on the bed as if tied to an invisible weight. Once she had fully woken up, she looked out her window to see that it was pitch-black outside. She then noticed a man standing at the foot of her bed. He was tall and handsome, with alabaster skin, raven-black hair, a sharp face with a chiseled jaw, and bright green eyes that were both piercing and reassuring; he was dressed in all black.
"Who are you?" Claire asked, surprised that she wasn't scared of the stranger.
"My name is Robin," his voice was smooth and intense, "and I'm here to help you."
"Help me? How?"
"By making you beautiful, and making you mine. I've been watching you for some time Claire, you're lonely and you have been your whole life. You don't have anyone whom can trust or depend upon: no friends, no family, and no lovers. You don't have money or fine things, and you certainly don't have beauty. I know you think that your life has no value and that it would make no difference if you just ended it. Well I'm here to fix all that. You see Claire, I'm a warlock -- a powerful warlock. My powers have given me great wealth and adventure, but they cannot give me love, and that is why I have come to you. There is a ritual I can perform, that will transform a ... homely girl such as yourself into a creature of perfect feminine beauty, and bind her to me in deep, pure love. Its effects are permanent and irreversible, and the woman upon whom I perform it must submit willingly. I'm offering you a chance to abandon your mundane life for one of pure pleasure. I will give you four days to make your decision, if you chose to go with me, then at sundown on the fourth day, stand at your window with this candle burning on your windowsill," he pulled a long red candle out of his sleeve and placed it on the footboard. "The choice is entirely yours Claire."
As soon as Robin finished speaking, the room changed from night to day in a matter of seconds, with Robin's form fading with the shifting light until he was gone completely. The weight was lifted off of Claire's legs. She jumped up out of bed, and went to her foot board. She picked up the candle and examined it, Claire knew she didn't own any like it, so there was no way she could have left it there. "That was real," she whispered to herself. Claire went to the bathroom and looked at herself. Robin was right, she wasn't beautiful: she was barely over five feet tall, her chin was small and pointy, just like her nose, and the rest of her face was flat and plain; her skin was pasty and blotchy -- not smooth and milky like Robin's. Puberty had been especially tough for Claire. When many of her peers were blossoming into womanhood, growing luscious, full breasts, and fertile, round hips, Claire's figure remained pathetically boyish. Even now into adulthood, she had no hips to speak of, and droopy breasts that barely filled an A-cup. Making things worse, her parents had died when she was only a toddler, forcing her to be thrown in-and-out of foster homes, giving her no sense of connection to anyone, or anything. With no one to provide her with guidance, Claire became a terrible under-achiever, and just barely graduated high school, consigning her to a life of menial labor. Now that a handsome stranger had literally offered her a way to magically change life, what should she do?
Four days later, Claire returned home from what she hoped would be her last day of work. She sat on her bed watching the sun go down for almost two hours, when it had just begun to dip below the horizon, she stoop up, placed the candle on the windowsill, and lit it with a match. As she stood there wondering what was supposed to happen, the black smoke from the candle drifted up into her nose. Claire thought that it smelled sweet, then ... black.
She woke up in a large bed with silk sheets, in a dark room she didn't recognize. She was naked. "Claire." She turned and saw Robin standing at the side of the bed, he was just as handsome as she remembered. "Claire, it's time." He took her hand as she got out of bed, then led her out of bed and down a long hallway. "I want you to know," Robin said as they walked, "that this will be entirely painless. You will remember your life before, but I promise you will not miss it." They came to a pair of tall wooden doors, Robin opened them to reveal a domed room with the full moon shining through a window in the ceiling. A pentagram was drawn on the floor in chalk with an unlit brazier at each point, and a bed covered with myrtle flowers in the center.
"What am I supposed to do?" Claire asked timidly.
"Right now," Robin answered, "just stand still." Next to his feet was an ebony box, he opened it, stuck his hands inside, and pulled out two handfuls of rendered fat. "I'm going to rub this on you." Claire complied, letting Robin rub the greasy stuff all over her body: legs, stomach, breasts, arms, face, and even into her kinky brown hair. When Robin finished he pulled a silk cloth out of his pocket and wiped his hands clean. He knelt down to close the box, and picked up the golden cup next to it. "Drink all of this." Claire obeyed, it tasted like just plain water. He led her to the bed and told her to lie down - she obeyed, and the silver light of the moon shone in her eyes. Robin pulled five gold coins out of his pocket and placed them along the length of Claire's torso, while he did so, Claire felt her head begin to grow hazy. Robin made a gesture with his hands, and all of the braziers lit simultaneously. The last thing Claire remembered, was Robin beginning to repeat a three-line verse in a language she did not recognize, and then, for a third time ... black.
When she woke up she was in the dark room again, only this time the curtains were open, letting in the daylight to reveal the deep red color of the walls and the beautiful statue of the Venus de Milo on her right. Her body felt different, and yet, somehow right. Her nose was filled with a smoky-sweet smell again, she touched a hand to her cheek to feel that it was as soft and smooth as the bed's silk sheets. She turned her head to the left side of the bed to see Robin smiling at her. "Hello Miranda."
"Who's Miranda?" She asked, smiling. Her voice was different too, it was softer, sexier; not squeaky and harsh like it used to be.
"Why you are of course."
"Yes, yes I am." She sat up in bed and looked dreamily at Robin, admiring him as her one true love "Did the ritual turn out okay?"
"It turned out exactly as we hoped it would. Do you want to see what you look like now?"
"Yes!" Miranda pushed back the curtains and let Robin take her hand. Standing up she felt much taller, and now moved with a natural, sensual grace as she walked to the other end of the room. When Robin pulled the sheet off of a full-length mirror, Miranda saw that she was just as he had promised: a perfect vision of feminine beauty. Long, fine hair fell down her back in golden waves, framing a face like that of an angel, with high cheekbones, full, supple lips, and eyes the same blue as a summer sky. Her creamy-white breasts were huge and plump, and sat high on her chest; and her lithe waste tapered to wide, feminine hips.
"Are you happy?" Robin asked.
