The Sweet Scent of Defeat

Ah, the intoxicating aroma of defeat. It’s a fragrance I’ve grown to adore, one that clings to the very fabric of the men I transform. It’s a heady scent, a reminder of their pitiful struggles against my will. I’ve collected so many ‘perfumes’ over the years, each one a testament to my unyielding power. The way a man’s scent changes, from the confident musk of a strong male to the cloying sweetness of a pleading female, it’s almost… musical. My coven and I often take great pleasure in ‘composing’ our own perfumes, carefully selecting the perfect blend of defeat and desire to drive our creations wild.

My latest acquisition, a former Marine, still reeks of his former life. The stench of his machismo clings to him like a bad omen, a constant reminder of the power I hold over him. I delight in watching him struggle to accept his new form, the way he flails about like a fish out of water. His attempts to defy me only make me more… eager. The thrill of the chase, the knowledge that I can reduce even the strongest of men to a quivering mass of femininity, it’s almost too delicious to bear. And when the inevitable surrender comes, oh, the joy it brings me!

But it’s not just the individual ‘perfumes’ that I collect, no, it’s the memories that come with them. The way a man’s eyes widen in horror as he realizes his new form, the sound of his desperate pleas for mercy, it’s music to my ears. I’ve learned to treasure these moments, to savor the taste of their defeat. And when I’m feeling particularly… nostalgic, I’ll often revisit my collection, reliving the memories of their downfall. It’s a bittersweet experience, to be sure, but one that I never tire of. For in the end, it’s not just about the men I transform, it’s about the power I wield over them, the power to reduce them to nothing more than a sweet, sweet perfume.