POWERLESS

Andres. Your request truly touched me. You're tired of being looked down on because of the way you look, made fun of because of your Hispanic accent. You're tired of being a young man with little to no respect. You're tired of feeling powerless. 

As you sleep right now, I'm hovering over you, looking down at the handsome man you are even though you don't believe it. I feel you're beautiful the way you are, but as I said, your request touched me, and I want to make sure you never feel this way again. 

I begin by running my hands over your dark skin. It grows lighter beneath my touch. You're still tan, but more Caucasian than Hispanic. You begin to wrestle in your sleep as I gently blow on your nipples. They harden, your pecs swelling beneath my breath as the transformation moves across your torso. You grow thicker, you abs stretching into a gorgeous six pack. It moves over your shoulders, down your biceps and forearms. My gentle breath sweeps across your thighs, ever muscle in your body changing, hardening. Your hands grow strong as your entire body stretches. I'd say you're around 6'2" now, every inch of you thick with ripped, beautiful muscle. It's a body built by time and hard work, not a gym, and it's absolutely stunning. 

I lean down, teasing the top of your cock with my tongue. I have to say I can't help myself. It's a gift being a Master and having the ability to transform people at will . . . sometimes I can't help but enjoy my creations. As I take your cock in, it also grow, hardens . . . the last piece of you shifting to the perfect, cut size. You taste delicious as I move back, taking in your new body. 

Tracing my fingers along your arms, I paint you with tattoos. A powerful man should have a story and your story is now painted on your godlike frame. Finally, I move to your face. I consider for moment WHO you should be. What should I reshape this small Hispanic boy into. A smile creeps over my face as I lean down and kiss your lips. They grow thinner. I kiss your chin and cheeks, every feature reshaping into squarer, stronger lines. A faint peppering of blond hair grows over your face, thick eyebrows weaving in over blue eyes. Yes, blue, Irish eyes. I move my hands over your scalp and your thick dark hair dissipates into a buzzed blonde cut. It's slightly receding, but it's sexy and gives you that tough exterior I hope you're looking for. 

I stand, looking down at my new creation as a gold chain appears around your neck. It's what every true Irish bad ass would have and the ladies LOVE a nice Irish lad with a bit of flair. Your mates down at the pub might like it as well. Truth is, you love to fuck. It doesn't matter who it is. You're a horny stallion. You're Conall MacCabe and when you wake the next morning, you'll find yourself in a very different body in the hills of Ireland . . . and you'll never feel powerless again.