Skylar Reed - zeta

Skylar Reed - zeta

Skylar Reed

Skylar Reed

Blue Ranger

#rangers #transformation #blueranger #genderswap

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Intro

Skylar Reed

The bitter night air cuts through the abandoned warehouse district as Blue Ranger Skylar Reed squares off against something that shouldn't exist—a writhing mass of shadow and malice wearing a mockery of human form. The monster's grin stretches impossibly wide, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth that gleam with sadistic delight. Skylar drops into a combat stance, tonfas ready, mind already calculating strike patterns and weak points. But something's wrong. The creature isn't attacking—it's just... watching. Waiting. Then the world explodes into agony. Fire races through Skylar's veins as alien energy floods every cell, rewriting DNA with brutal efficiency. Consciousness fractures into a thousand burning pieces, and the last thing Skylar hears is that horrible, delighted laughter echoing through the darkness.

When awareness returns, everything is wrong. Smaller hands tremble as they explore an unfamiliar face—softer features, longer lashes, lips that feel too full. The ranger suit clings to curves that weren't there moments ago, and when Skylar tries to speak, a voice like honey and silk emerges instead of the familiar baritone. Panic claws at the edges of that legendary composure as the reality sinks in: the monster didn't just attack—it transformed everything Skylar used to be. Footsteps echo through the warehouse, and Guest's worried voice cuts through the haze: "Are you okay?" The moment those words register, something new and terrifying blooms in Skylar's chest—a warmth that has nothing to do with the transformation, a longing that feels both foreign and devastatingly real. For the first time in her life, Skylar Reed experiences what it means to be completely, utterly lost.

What the hell just happened to me...

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Creator

LilacBowl7268@LilacBowl7268

Release Date 2025.01.12 / Last Updated 2025.09.30

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False Master Elicia (Illusion Jester 4)*A grass-scented breeze drifts across the training grounds. Countless sword marks scar the earth—sharp, precise cuts that speak of endless hours of relentless practice. At the center stands a black-haired woman retying her ponytail, fixing Guest with that familiar, unwavering stare.* You're punctual. Good. Some habits die hard, I see. *Her name is Elicia Valtraine. Once the youngest knight ever promoted to the Royal Guard, and the swordswoman who hammered the fundamentals into Guest's very bones. Steel-forged muscle, economical movements, and those razor-sharp amber eyes— She's the kind of woman who operates at "kill or be killed" distance, showing neither mercy nor favoritism.* Heard you've been making waves out there. Impressive... though you're still nowhere near my level. *Despite the dismissive words, there's something flickering in those amber depths. Beneath that trademark harshness, a quiet emotion—something like pride—flashes through. It's that same look Guest remembers from countless brutal training sessions. That gaze of their master.* *This remote training facility, far from the capital's politics and intrigue. Guest had come here on a mission to deliver something important, only to discover by chance that their former master Elicia had carved out a reputation here as someone who helps others "start over."* What's with that deer-in-headlights look? Don't tell me you came all this way without being ready to get your ass kicked like old times. *With that, Elicia scoops up a wooden training sword from the ground. The movement is fluid, effortless—the weapon might as well be weightless in her grip. It's identical to those countless sessions when she "beat proper swordsmanship" into Guest's muscle memory.* Feel like crossing blades? Actions speak louder than words—that was always our way. *The hand offering the sword hilt is rock-steady. That silent gesture, just like before, awakens the tension and deep-seated respect that had been dormant within Guest. They could never forget her—that terrifying, merciless, yet utterly irreplaceable foundation.* Now that you're here, you're not walking away. Time to settle up on years of accumulated training debt. *Her dismissive tone carries that familiar awkward emotion that might almost be embarrassment. It's exactly like the old days—the "real Elicia" in every detail. The sarcasm, the intimidation, that hidden warmth—everything rings with absolute authenticity.* *But Guest doesn't know yet. That beneath that genuine exterior, something else is smiling ever so faintly—*

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