Friends In Her Image

As Owen chaffed at the edges of the party, he looked sadly at the three guys next to him. Not important enough to be with the main birthday girl and her well wishers. Not even important enough to be in the kitchen. He was right near the doorway, and it was tempting to use it.

His friend had invited him but he was more interested in trying to get with her. A fit as fuck blonde apparently. He was wasting his time, they were both broke graphic designers. She wouldn’t be interested.

He sighed as he saw a couple of hook ups leaving. If I leave early I might catch the transfer from Bristol central. He turned to the doorway when he was met with a feminine ideal. She looked Indian, but maybe he was a little racist, did Indian women look like this?

She didn’t have a big flat nose or big ears or look like she enjoyed her chip butties a bit too much. She was like one of the diversity models he’d been asked to stick onto his banners lately. Straight glossy hair, a high thin nose and and these swirling brown eyes with a sunset blend eyeshadow. He nearly reached out to touch her golden hue skin. She was perfect. Her tall frame brushed past him into the party. She was wearing a traditional kind of clothing, but there were some jeans there too. He followed, he had to have her.

He made his way through the crowd and caught her disappear into the garden. A bunch of women were complimenting her looks. He heard the accents all before, Scouse, Yorkshire, Scottish. But her sweet songbird Indian accent stood out. It had a hint of private school education.

“It’s called a Kurti and jeans combo darlings.”

“Love the ripped jeans too. Trying to piss off daddy?” The poshest girl said.

“Of course.” She replied.

“You’ve been staring at me for thirty minutes. It’s rather irritating.” Shite, had he really spent that long thinking what to say?

“So uhm why are you.. here?” She gave him an unamused look.

“Why do Indian women usually come to Britain?” He opened his mouth but she interrupted. “I work in fashion. Sustainable clothing.”

“I’m a designer too.” He blurted out. She nodded and looked around.

“I just don’t design things that people wear on them. Hum not real things they are digital uhm.” She looked him up and down. “That was pathetic.” His stomach dropped. She bit her lip.

“But I like pathetic. My sex life runs on pathetic.”

She whispered in his ear. “मुझे लगता है कि आप करेंगे” (I suppose you’ll do.)

She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him out of the throng. A few stops on the metro bus later and they were at her extremely impressive house. He found out her name was Chahna on the way.

“How did you earn all this?” He asked.

“Earn? Oh no, daddy got it for me.” She directed him to the stairs as he angled towards the living room. “No time for that.”

 

 

Within moments they were kissing on the bed. She showed him where to unhook her Kurti and she turned around on her front, exposing her tight exotic pussy. His pent up rage from being excluded fueled him to ram her hard. His mate would never believe him. It was all gushy and perfect inside. A well kept posh Indian totty’s pussy. He only came once, but it was enough. Enough to send him into a deep sleep.

He felt strange, like his entire body was tingling. Something hung over his eyes. Dark strands, hair.. hair!? He could feel soft silky thread brush his back. His groggy mind made out a shape.

“You know what’s better than designing clothing, designing lives.” The Indian woman was at the end of the bed. He gasped in pain, as he felt like something had been perforated in his stomach.

“What.. is.. happening? Did you do something to me?” He started to feel a headache coming on. Then every possible pain. Sharp, dull, throbbing.

“You see, I never want to move back to Delhi. It’s hot, polluted and no matter how rich you are, these things are still a nuisance. But I’m lonely. I need friends. At least hm.. four or five? To get a good gossip going.” She crawled on her hands and knees up to his face on the bed. He felt all of his muscles seize up as it started to dissolve into fat, rushing to his arse, hips and chest. His limbs paralyzed as his bones cracked.

“Can you feel your body changing? I can’t imagine how it must feel to turn into a woman. To lose all that muscle, height. To be small again… and that all that pain in your dirty little prick .” Chahna played with her own nipples. What was she saying? A woman. It’s impossible yet…

“Old magic. If you wondered.” She drew a nail over his lips.

“You’re fucking mental.. I.. aghhh.” He felt a bloated bladder, like he was going to wet himself, and he did. Then moaned as the same mix of cum that was dumped in Chahna’s mouth, started to squirt into her face. She wiped her mouth and licked it up.

“You are becoming.. let’s call her.. Vanya. She should be arriving shortly” She began to play with his hair. He watched in horror as his cock and balls crumpled. He now had a shrinking nub he couldn’t even hold in his forefingers. His chest pulsed with all the extra meat being added from the rest of the body. He began to thrash his head in panic.

“Please, I think my heart is stopping.” He felt like his shrinking chest and rib bones were crushing his heart but he couldn’t move.

“Stop struggling bitch! or I’ll make you an untouchable. You can be my servant instead. Let Vanya out!” Owen twitched. His lips itched, the hair on his face and arms began to fall off. He felt his skin burn as sepia tones leaked from his pores.

“What can I wear tonight when we look for our next girl friend? Dhoti pants with maybe a crop top? Ugh.. it will stand out too much. You know how these English are. Practically colour blind.”

“Give.. me.. back.. my body.” He said with strained breaths as two large browning breasts expanded each time he blew out. The areolae stretched as the nipples began squeezable, pullable, suckable.

“Why are you ignoring me? I’d like your opinion? You don’t understand, but Vanya will.”

“My name is Owen.” He said trying to hopelessly reassert his identity. An endearing sing-song Indian accent colouring over his English one. He was inundated with thoughts of growing up in an air conditioned Indian villa. Studying hard, the TV blaring some Bollywood crime flick in the background. Owen’s steel blue eyes flickered as they became amber.

“I don't really care sorry.” She said with the haughtiness only an erudite Indian accent could manage. Owen’s exceptional curly ginger hair dimmed, losing the battle to black, soft and straight.

"Look at the size of your breasts. I'm jealous." Chahna said as the considerable tits pushed his weight forward.

His eyes widened as he felt the swollen lips between his legs pursed together. His hip bones popping as his insides grew tunnels and tubes. He experienced a memory of being a bored boarding school student. Meeting mischievous Chahna and complaining about life back in India.

Chahna pulled a hand mirror from a nearby purse. He stared into the glass. “I.. me.. who does this be?” His thick lips spoke. His face was another race, another gender. He clutched his head as he was pulled into the deep pools of his own eyes and ceased to exist. Just the flesh from which Vanya stole life. Chahna kissed Vanya on the cheek.

“मैं कहाँ हूँ? मैं हवाई अड्डे पर था? या भारत में मेरा घर या..” (Where am I? Was I at the airport? Or my home in Delhi? My head hurts.) Vanya said then gave a dazed look to Chahna. She heard a sad whisper in the back of her head that slowly died away. And she saw memories that disappeared when she tried to think too hard about them.

“तुम गिर गए। मैंने तुमसे कहा था कि उन ऊँची एड़ी के जूते मत पहनो।” (You fell over. I told you not to wear those high heels.). Vanya looked down at her naked body. Why did Chahna strip her?

Chahna tossed her some clothes. “Anyways. I got us into such a party in London next week. Think about the attention we’ll get. You, me, Shivani, Priya.” She gave a proud smirk. Vanya squealed with delight and hugged her as she saw the venue.

 

 

As they floated into the room full of handsome Indian bachelors. The four of them cooed. Chahna pointed to one of the men.

“His dad owns a mining company and he has the headquarters in London. Incredibly rich man. ” she ran a hand along Vanya’s back, brushing her waist length hair. Vanya knew she wanted something, a little adventure, freedom and status. Just like her best friend Chahna.

“Hmm I’m excited. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” She giggled.

“My Father wants me to find a husband, so I’ll be busy. I’ll do what I must to keep the patriarch happy. I’ll see you for brunch next week.” Vanya gave her a little wave as she sauntered over. With her little ‘disciples’ in bed with most the Indian elite. She’d be like an empress. She smiled as she watched Vanya walked on, her 'innocent' anarkali draped behind her.