Off Roading (CYOA TG) by lightingTG on DeviantArt (original) (raw)
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Thinking quickly, you turn off the road and try your hand at off-roading. It was going well at first till you lost control of your car from going to fast and hit a tree.
The crash was violent. The last thing you remember is the jarring impact as your car smashed into a tree. Your vision faded into blackness, and for a while, there was nothing. But when you came to, you weren't in the driver's seat anymore. You weren't even in your car.
Slowly, you blink your eyes open, and the first thing you notice is the soft, cozy fabric beneath your fingers. You’re lying on a carpet, not rough, but comforting. Your head feels heavy, and as you prop yourself up, you feel something... different. The room around you is unfamiliar, modern yet homey, and sunlight pours through wide windows. But it’s not the room that makes your heart pound. It’s you.
You glance down, gasping at the sight of your body—or rather, the body you're now in. The first thing that catches your eye is a red plaid skirt.. It's short, far too short for your comfort, brushing the tops of your bare thighs. Your legs are smooth and slender, shapely in a way that makes you freeze in disbelief. The feeling of soft cotton presses against your chest, and you notice a small white sweater hugging your torso. But that's not what makes you panic.
Breasts. You can feel them, pressing against the fabric, their unfamiliar weight tugging at your chest. Your hands, trembling, instinctively move to touch them. Soft. They’re round, perky, and when your hands brush over them, you feel a jolt of sensation that nearly sends you reeling. They're... yours now.
No, no, no. This can’t be happening.
You sit up quickly, your fingers drifting lower to your hips. There’s more of your curves that weren’t there before. Your ass presses against the floor as you shift, and even that feels strange. It’s plump sensitive. Every movement seems to brush your body in a new, alien way. The skirt rides up just enough to remind you how exposed you feel. But what’s most unsettling is the absence. You reach between your legs, and the realization hits you like a wave. Your manhood is gone, replaced with something else. Something soft, foreign, and delicate.
Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps as your hands continue to explore. You feel her, your, new pussy, the soft folds hidden under the skirt. The sensation is overwhelming. It’s as if the air around you clings differently to your skin, everything more sensitive. You shiver, partly from fear, partly from the odd sensation coursing through you.
This isn’t your body.
Scrambling to your feet, you notice something red slipping off your head—a hat. You catch it just in time, holding it in front of you as if it will offer some kind of explanation. But it doesn’t. It’s just a hat, resting on top of long strands of red hair. You reach up, fingers tangling in the hair, and pull some forward. It's not yours, either. It’s soft, silky, cascading in braids down your shoulders. You pull at one of them, staring at the fiery color.
“Whose body is this?” you mutter, voice high, almost musical. Your heart sinks.
Shaking, you spot a phone on the coffee table nearby. You grab it, praying it will give you some answers. The lock screen is a picture of the girl you’ve become—her face, framed in red hair, smiling brightly. You swipe through it, scrolling, trying to piece together the puzzle. Instagram. Her account. Her name is displayed at the top: “Anna.”
Anna. You swallow hard. A college student, apparently, studying art history and photography, if her posts are anything to go by. You see selfies—some in the very outfit you’re wearing now—smiling at the camera like life’s a breeze. As if she never had to worry about... whatever had just happened.