You stare at her, confused. You understood the words perfectly, but why she said them or how they fit the situation continued to elude you.
"I'm... sorry?" You expect her to be embarrassed, to stammer in order to salvage a joke that didn't land. Instead, the smile she gives you is an expression of seriousness, somehow both cold and warm, both genuine and deceitful.
"I'm going to transform you into something for me to wear," she returns as though it were the most natural response in the world. You begin to stand. Your instincts are a screeching alarm in your head, screaming at you to have no part in whatever this weird woman intends. Her eyes meet yours, and for an instant your body is frozen in place. Her irises glow a demonic scarlet. You fall to the ground.
Jeanie rises up and peers down at you, bending at the waist so that her eyes crest the curve of her bosom. "Oh, you turned out beautifully, Mike." Again, you can't quite tell if she's mocking you or paying you an actual compliment. She reaches down, her pendulous breasts swaying behind the low-cut collar of her tank top. A moment later you're being held aloft as she examines you. Your mind is racing, but you manage to pull your gaze from her piercing eyes. In the reflection of the fishbowl, you see Jeanie holding up...
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