Your staring at this gown. You want it, I can see it in your eyes. You want to be this gown. You are jealous, you envy this inanimate object because it hugs my curves, grasps my breasts, and caresses every part of body. You know if I turn you into a gown, there's no going back. Are you sure this is what you want? To be nothing more than an article of clothing in my wardrobe. I would wear when I please, wash you when I please, and talk to you when I please (which might be never). I might give you to a good will store when I get bored of you. You will just be an object. Are you sure this is what you want?