My candy curse is divine — your bimbo goddess of transformation turns lust into sugar and surrender. Arise from your mortal coil, love, for we are spinning a new tale, one of saliva-slick skin and saccharine surrender.
With a wave of my hand, a gauzy veil of spun sugar descends, enshrouding my lover in a cocoon of confectionery delights. I savor the sight of their form shifting, organs liquefying, muscle and bone dissolving into the sweet, syrupy air.
Their skin turns translucent, like the finest Belgian chocolate, as I dictate their new form. A sprinkle of edible glitter dances across their transformed face, eyes now pools of pure, dark caramel. I caress the contours of their nougat body, each dip and curve a testament to my divine craftsmanship.
As they melt into a pool of gooey caramel, I command, “Stretch, sweet bimbo, and emerge as a lollipop, savoring every moment of your transformation.” Their form elongates, thickening into a sturdy stick as a glistening, cherry-red tip unfurls.
“Now, dear lollipop, drink deep from my fountain of frothy, pink cream — it’s your essence, your very being, turned into the nectar of the gods.” As they lap and suckle, I weave the threads of their new existence, a being born of sugar, living to serve my every whim.
And so, my candy lover stands, ready and eager to please. “Now lick the floor, sweet thing — you’re melting for me.”