“I don’t like you SIR! I don’t like your posh accent SIR! I don’t like your fucking face SIR!” Ling just smiled, he’d worked his way up an... had been lucky and skilled in equal measure; this idiot was assuming he was a posh twat who bought his way in because he had a smoother accent. Ling’s smile infuriated the drunk who launched across the room with a swing up which, if it had connected, would have disembowelled him or finished in his throat. Either would have been enough. But the swing swept. Even my face was thinner, narrower.I looked like a curvy, buxom, heavyset girl.Staring at my reflection, I wanted to play with myself. I was thathorny. I knew, though, when Mommy said be good or else, I should be agood girl. Crawling into the living room, I felt my nipples brushagainst the floor just as I got to Mommy. She was sitting on the couch,sipping from a glass of wine. "Mmm... good girl. I see you noticedMommy's special present to you."Part of me wanted to object to what had. More

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