All The World's a Stage - TG

Morgana winced as the door squeaked shut behind her, kneading her temples for a moment before tossing the mail onto the table, and plopping down into the couch. The feel of it giving beneath her was relaxing, if a tiny bit worrying when it came to her weight, and she sank into the cushions with obvious relief. Maybe she could use a spell to get rid of these headaches the Director was giving her; and maybe to lose a pound or two, while she was at it.

She sighed, hating herself as she grabbed a bag of potato chips from the floor, the salt and vinegar greasing her hand as she pulled out a handful. She couldn't help it, she was a stress eater. Besides, it was helping with the headache that idiot Director was giving her. She couldn't stop him, because she couldn't use magic on him, because he had a ring that also stopped him from using magic - but he wasn't actually using magic, so he could still mind control her, and she had no defense. It was maddening, annoying, hurtful, and more than a little embarrassing as he played dress up with her compliant form. The others weren't any use, either, of course - he didn't even have to bespell them, just show a picture of Morgan posing under one of his spells, and the officers went googly-eyed.

"Maybe I should just quit, she muttered," turning on the news.

The screen fuzzed for a moment, before coming on, the whether man's face forming as she smiled. Cute jaw, round face, beautiful broad shoulders, and all under a coat - why the hell couldn't she meet men like that, in her day. Instead of watching them point at suns and smile annoyingly at her through a television set.

Except he wasn't smiling, now. "What  - what the hell are you doing here!? This is a closed set, you're just going to have to-"

"Stay?" came a voice, masculine and familiar. Morgana leapt to her feet, watching the Director come out. "Thank you. I need to watch my main actor, after all, Mr. Wettersbee."

"Ac-actor?" whispered Wetttersbee, face slack

"Of course. You're my security guard, you know - a startling tale of a man determined to protect his work place. You passed the auditions in flying colors."

"I did?" he asked, his face hardening in determination. "Of course I did. I'm an actor."

"Good, good…" smiled the Director, wiping a wave of brown hair from his eyes. "Now, go over there, somewhere," he said, vaguely pointing, " and play your role!"

"Yes, sir!" whispered Wettersbee, leaping to attention and strutting out as the Director walked forward, stopping for a moment to place a hand on Wettersbee's chest. "Oh, and one last thing?"

"Sir?" he asked, his face slacking again.

"Did i forget to mention you're a girl?"  A green flashed lashed outward as the director lifted a gun, slamming into the man's chest and sinking through his clothes and into his flesh. The director only smiled as the breasts began to form, pressing against the shirt until they tore free. Wettersbee blushed, but didn't move, simmply waiting as hips widened and his waist narrowed, the height practically dripping off of him as he turned into a she, his manhood pressing inward as her butt pressed out, and she gasped in pleasure. The legs slid into daintiness as the waves of blonde hair fell down. She reached upward, gripping the director's neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

"Of course I'm a girl," she smiled. "That's what got me the job isn't it?" she bounced away, breasts flouncing in the air as the director smiled the way only a man with a "conquest" could.

Morgana cursed, grabbing her keys off the dresser and giving the TV one last look .

"Some of you might wonder why I'm here," he smiled. "Some of you might be about to turn off the TV. It's too late, of course."

"Of course it's not too late," she muttered. "I can turn it off right now." She didn't move, though, for the TV or the door.

"I have a device, you see," he added. "It lets me use my power across national television. Wonderful device, don't you think?"

She just stared, not knowing what to say.

"For example," he added, stroking his chin, "Morgana is a chicken."

"Don't be ridiculous," she squawked, her arms folding up beneath her as she pecked at the ground.

"I kid, you, of course… She's my daughter. Who misses me, and will listen to everything daddy has to say."

"Daddy!" she whispered, eyes misting as she hugged the TV, breasts pressing against the cold glass as she giggled.

"Now, those of you watching the news, or shows, or anything else that I've so rudely interrupted, don't you worry. This announcement is short - I've just come to tell you that you're all my French Maids, except Morgana. Males, please wait outside your houses for immediate girlification as we usher in a new world of peace and happiness."

"Daddy's so smart!" she giggled.

"Oh, and Morgana? You're not my daughter," he added, looking over his shoulder as he began to walk off set.

"I'm not?" she demanded, face scrunching up.

"You're my fiancée, don't you remember? Your ring is on the table," he added, "in the envelope." She reached down, gently shaking the smallest envelope until the golden ring fell into her hand, putting it on her finger with a smile. "We thought it was time to stop fighting," he went on, grinning just for her. "We're getting married today - the dress is at the church."

"I'm so happy," she whispered.

"Oh, and one last thing?" he added, walking off the set. "Don't forget to bring the cheesecake for our guests.  Bye, honey!"

Morgana blinked at the television, feeling the air on her skin as her mind blanked. There were keys in her hands, she realized, trying to make sense of things. She was going to pick up cheesecake. For her fiancée, so that they could get married today.

She smiled, walking out the door as the new identity entrenched itself in her mind, the TV's signal slowly burying itself in now that the message had been relayed. After all, why shouldn't she smile? Her future husband had just brought about world peace.

Besides, cheesecake was her fave.