I'd just started my new job as an assistant editor for a publishing company, and I was about to sit down and start to review my first ever manuscript. It was a thrilling moment - a thick ream of 8x11" paper held together with brass fasteners. The smell of ink and paper. I don't think I could have wished for a better job. The Haunted Manor. I took out a red ballpoint and made a strikethrough. There's bound to be a better title somewhere in the book.

Only what I hadn't realized at this point, was that the person who wrote this manuscript had been rejected by the publishing house one too many times for her liking. Apparently her writing just didn't "grab the reader's attention" like a pro's should. She had then cursed her writing to transform the reader physically into the protagonist and transport them to into the story to live out the events that were contained in the pages.

The moment that I opened the manuscript to the first page, an feeling of light-headedness overcame me and I felt myself falling forward for what seemed like an eternity onto my desk. But the next moment, I felt fine. I was standing in front of a large house that reminded me of the movie Clue or The Addams Family. I found myself standing on the driveway between the gate, which had a chain on it with a very large lock, and the front door of the mansion. It appears that there's only one option. I marched forward towards the home.

___________________________________________________________

I've left the character open so this can be a true transformation story. So tell me who I am once I reach the door and notice my hand isn't my hand.

I'm pretty open kinks-wise. Just for limits - no scat, vore, bile, or excessive blood.