This is a sample chapter from Transformation TV.
This advertorial highlights one of the world’s most popular ice creams, which is adding a secret ingredient – with some weighty consequences!
“Hector, you’re the patriarch of this family,” said Tandy, the blonde-haired, pint sized reporter for Transformation TV. “You’ve built something amazing with your Icy Garcia company. What’s the secret to your success?”
“Determination,” he said quickly, stroking his bearded chin. “When I was little, I had nothing. My family, we had nothing. We lived on a shack near the school. But every time I was made fun of, it only strengthened my stubborn resolve, that I’d make something of myself, create a different life for my family.”
“And now?”
“Now we are quite wealthy, and my daughter Josefina can spend her days carefree. She loves to play volleyball on the beach, and she’s always very popular because she’s so beautiful and because they respect my last name.”
“But that respect has taken a hit recently, correct? You lost a lawsuit this year...”
“They’re cheats and scum! They said I lied about the fat content in my ice cream. That it makes people get fat. But I’ll show them! I’ll show them all!”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I synthesized a special drug that causes weight gain, put in a batch. It’s already on the shelves,” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
“Aren’t you worried about more lawsuits, now that you’ve admitted you’ve sabotaged your own product? You don’t think there could be any unintended consequences at all?”
““They said my ice cream is fattening – I’ll show them fattening!” said Hector. “As for consequences, I have faith that everything will work out for the best.”
“And nobody knows about this?”
“You’re the first…”
~
Josefina leapt towards the sky, her long hair fluttering in the breeze and her hand nearly scraping the clouds as her arm swung wide. She spiked the volleyball into the sand, her tight, lean, regal frame strong and still as she landed.
“Nice one!” said her partner, Pedro.
“I agree,” said Jime, the man who hadn’t returned her serve.
“You should have dove for it,” said Deulla, Jime’s girlfriend. “You always let her win,” she added snidely. Deulla was nearly as thin and gorgeous as Josefina, but Josefina always got all the male attention.
“All that running around has made me really work up a sweat,” said Josefina. “I think I need to cool off the pool,” she said, referring to the majestic, waterfall-themed artificial grotto on her father’s estate. “Why don’t you swing by in a half hour, after, you know, I put my clothes back on?”
The words hung in the air for a moment as all three of them contemplated Josefina’s body in the buff - Jime and Pedro with abject lust, Deulla with more than a little jealousy.
~
Josefina arched her back against the cobblestone archway as she basked in the cool flow of the mist near the waterfall. A tiny, polka-dot bikini was all that clung to her body. Slender and toned, but with large breasts and a shapely rear, Josefina was immensely proud of her gorgeous figure and the attention she was able to command with it.
Josefina was used to getting anything that she wanted, and what she knew would make this perfect was an ice cream cone. A little bite, then a quick skinny dip in the pool - that was would be just fine.
Thanks to her father’s company, she’d been blessed by a limitless supply of ice cream for as long as she could remember. And thanks to her speedy metabolism and her habit of constantly playing and exercising at the beach, she’d been even more blessed to never gain a pound from it.
Josefina walked over to the built in freezer and pulled out a cone in the shape beer glass, filled it with an extra-creamy varietal called Quadruple Vanilla, then topped it with a generous amount of chocolate syrup. Then, she leaned back up against the archway. Ah, yes, she thought - perfect. Everything was exactly as it should be.
When Josefina’s tongue took that first, eager lap against the ice cream, though, she was surprised. This ice cream wasn’t the delicious flavor she was used to. It was...it was…so, so much better.
Josefina would have been certain that any substantive improvement on her family’s brand was impossible - how could one tamper with perfection? But this new flavor wasn’t just a feast for the senses. It made her lips and tongue tingle with delight as she swirled the globe of frozen cream around in her mouth.
When she swallowed it down, a pleasant, warm glow made its way down her throat, before settling in her gut and then radiating out towards the rest of her body. She’d never felt so euphoric, so happy, so alive, in her entire life.
She quickly grabbed a spoon and started scooping up large bites of the ice cream, tearing into it in earnest. As Josefina continued to eat, her body started to expand. First, her cheeks swelled outwards, giving her formerly angular face a more pleasant, welcoming, warm look. Her pointed chin vanished under huskier looking double chin.
Josefina’s breasts began to grow larger, and as they swelled, they pushed against the little triangles of her bikini, straining the fabric and causing it to dig tightly against her flesh. But Josefina didn’t notice. She was so rapturously consumed with eating the ice cream that nothing else existed.
As she finished, the pleasures made her weak in the knees, and she crumbled downwards. It was a hot day, and much of the ice cream had melted and lay in a pool at the bottom of the cone before she could scoop it up.
Not patient enough to gain tiny spoonfuls of the melted stuff manually, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and tilted the cone over her mouth. The melted goo spilled into her gaping maw, as well as running down her chin and then dripping down towards the rest of her body.
As Josefina swallowed the first gulp, her breasts finally pushed themselves free of her poor, overstrained bikini top. The little triangles of fabric were pressed to the sides of her growing frame, allowing her engorged mammaries to sit free and unencumbered on her chest. The cool, refreshing wave of melted ice cream rolled down onto them, causing her larger nipples to stiffen up and grow bigger still.
Next, the ice cream made its way down Josefina’s tummy, which was no longer flat and waspish but was growing wide and started to shape itself into a little pot belly. And as the melted cream made its way further south, Josefina couldn’t deny that she felt incredibly aroused.
Josefina used her free hand to untie her bikini bottom, which was already starting to feel tight and constricting due her widening hips. As she ran her fingers downwards, she could feel the unfamiliar swell of her gut against her hand, but she was too turned on to care. As the ice cream poured down her sex, she began to vigorously rub herself.
Meanwhile, as she lapped up the last of the melted cream, Josefina’s splayed thighs grew wider and meatier, forming a large crease where they met against her hips and causing the toned definition she’d built up to vanish completely. The softer flesh now trembled at the slightest touch, and indeed as Josefina enthusiastically touched herself the flab that encased her thighs began to jiggle like mad.
Josefina’s little pot belly began to swell, and then fold over her hand and wrist, though she certainly wasn’t trying to move her hand away. A second upper belly formed and then folded over the first, giving her two distinctive rolls which wrapped all the way around her waist and connected to the plumpness of her hips and back.
As Josefina buried her rounder face in the cone, her long tongue skating inside to lap up the last bits of cream, her breasts continued their expansion. Her breasts growing outwards until they consumed nearly half of her torso, the firm, beautiful torpedoes still sitting proudly on top of the little shelf of her upper belly. They were large and heavy enough that they pressed against the sides of her frame and created yet another little roll that seemed to tuck under her arms - which, meanwhile, had swelled into decidedly husky proportions.
Josefina groaned as she climaxed, her body shaking and quivering and little droplets of melted ice cream flying everywhere. The manic high her body was experiencing finally peaked and then quickly ebbed away. As she began to catch her breath, Josefina glanced down at herself - and screamed.
She’d turned into a fat, disgusting whale! What the hell had happened!? She’d felt some unusual textures and sensations from her body while she was gorging, no doubt about that, but how could one ice cream cone possibly do this much damage?
That’s when Josefina remembered she’d invited her friends over - what in the hell would they think? Josefina knew she had to text them to cancel. Her phone was on the other side of the long pool, so she slowly waded into the water to get it.
“Josefina?” Deulla called out. “There’s somebody in your pool!”
“Wait - oh, my God, I think that’s her!” said Pedro, as Josefina tried her best to cover herself up with her arms. Due to her increased girth, this was proving more of a challenge than she anticipated.
“It is!” agreed Jime.
Deulla silently smirked. If the huge, rotund woman wading through the water was indeed Josefina - and she couldn’t deny the uncanny resemblance - then all her prayers had been answered. Her biggest - no pun intended - rival had been toppled.
“Wow, Josefina...you’re...you’re…” Pedro sputtered.
“Just say it, get it out of your system,” Josefina begged him, closing her eyes and preparing for the name calling and the laughter that she knew would be coming next.
“You’re sexier than ever!” shouted Jime.
“That’s just what I was going to say!” said Pedro. “I can’t believe it! Whatever you’re doing, it is working great!”
“What!?” Josefina and Deulla said at the same time, in opposite tones of voice.
“I’m sexy?” Josefina asked, monetarily stunned. “Well, yes, of course I’m sexy!” she quickly recovered. The only thing more massive than Josefina’s body was her giant ego, and now that the men in her life loved her, her earlier insecurities melted away like cheap ice cream in the sun.
Both Pedro and Jime jumped into the pool with their clothes on, eager to get a closer look at the plump vixen.
“Have you two lost your minds?” Deulla asked. “She’s a cow!”
“Look at those breasts!” said Pedro. “May I?” he asked, and Josefina nodded as he gently stroked the sides of them.
“I love that big tummy,” said Jime, as he poked at her sunken belly button.
“You’ve always loved sports, Josefina - what will you do now?” Pedro asked.
“How about...wrestling!” she said, charging forwards and causing water to splash in her wake. She used the momentum generated by her massive mass to push him backwards. Pedro tried to fight back, but Josefina wrapped her arms around his back and leaned forwards, taking total control. Both had huge grins on their faces as they sank under the water.
“Jime, come on,” Deulla said, as she pulled him back. “What is this, just because she’s rich, you’re willing to say or do anything to get with her?” she whispered.
“She’d be just as sexy even if she didn’t have a peso to her name,” Jime replied. “And, for the record, you could stand to gain a few pounds yourself.”
Josefina and Jime surfaced in time to hear this, her wide grin reached impossibly large proportions. She knew she could lend Deulla a hand by telling her about the ice cream, but she wouldn’t mention that to her for the world. Right now, all eyes were glued to Josefina, just as they should be, she thought.
Thank you for watching this paid Advertorial. Your experience using Icy Garcia products may differ.
Transformation TV has dozens of transformation stories of all kinds. Get it on Amazon today!
This is the first chapter of The Transformation Mall.
"I don't know what you're so worked up about," Jewel said. She stared blankly at the fairly ordinary-looking storefront of "Cougar Clothes" for a moment before returning her gaze to her phone.
"Well, honey, this is one brand you can't buy online," said Michael. "I checked."
"Now this is getting even more bizarre," said Jewel. "You actually researched a women's clothing store? Why?"
"Um...just to make sure you could get a unique gift today," Michael said, trying his best to sound innocent.
"Whatever," his wife said. Jewel was clad simply in a T-shirt and jean shorts. She was never one to spend much effort on fashion. "I'll try some stuff on, I guess," she said blankly, and walked into the store.
"Welcome to Cougar Clothes. I'm Margo. How can I make your day perfect?" said the woman behind the counter, a middle-aged vixen with slightly overdone, stylized eye makeup and a low-cut clingy black top. She seemed to be speaking to Michael, rather than to Jewel, though she was so wrapped up in her phone that she didn't notice.
"Hi, I pre-ordered a deluxe package," Michael said.
"Wait, you already paid for stuff here, and you don't even know if I'll like it?" Jewel asked.
"Trust me, you'll love it," said Margo in a husky voice. When Jewel appeared unmoved, she added "Or your money back."
"You better, or else I'll give you guys a nasty review on Yelp," Jewel said, her eyes narrowing.
"Deluxe package comes with a fashion consultant, Anna will be your guide," said Margo. Another middle aged beauty, this one with streaks of white in her lustrous mane of dark brown hair, came to escort her towards the changing rooms.
"So," Margo said, returning her gaze to Michael once Jewel was out of sight. "You married a younger woman. Regretting it?"
"Every day. When we met, I thought she was kind of immature, but I thought if I gave things time..."
"No couple should have to wait decades to be happy," said Margo. "And I'm guessing that's how long you would have had to wait with that one. I'd say she's about ten years younger than you, so she's about....twenty five, I'd say?"
"Right on the button. You're good or you're lucky," replied Michael.
"It's my job, so I'm damn good," she said, placing her hands on her wide hips. "Don't think just because this shop's just opening that we're armatures. I worked for years in the New York branch before being asked to come out here and manage this one."
"So," Michael gulped. "The brochure wasn't exactly heavy on details. What's, exactly, going to happen to her? "
"Why don't you sit in on a consultation and see for yourself?" Margo offered.
Michael didn't have to wait more than five minutes before another customer walked into the store. Younger and thinner even than Jewel, she came in with a slightly bowed head and a palpable aura of insecurity.
"Welcome to Cougar Clothes, how can Margo make your day perfect?" she asked. “Want to upgrade your look? Maybe catch the eye of a man in your life?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m Olivia, and I’ve got a massive crush on my TA…” she began, in a high-pitched, airhead-sounding voice.
“Stop right there, I can fill in the rest,” said Margo as she held up her hand. “He’s a bit older than you, but he only has eyes for women older than him, am I right?”
“Right again. How’d you guess?” Olivia asked.
“Honestly? I think just about all men fantasize about cougars,” replied Margo. “Sure, some seek out young women, but just because they’re status symbols. Those men are rarely happy. Isn’t that right, Michael?”
Michael nodded weakly. Damn, he thought – she was good.
“Well, girl, you came to the right place,” said Margo. “Once we’re through with you, your man won’t be able to resist. And that’s guaranteed.”
“Great,” Olivia said. “When can I get started?”
“Well, all of my fashion consultants are busy right now,” Margo began, and Olivia’s face grew sullen with disappointment.
“So…I’ll do you myself,” Margo concluded. “If you don’t mind Michael here tagging along, that is.”
“Oh course not, thank you so much!” Olivia gushed.
Margo took her by the hand, gathered up a heap of clothes and a black binder, and they walked together into the last free fitting room, which contained a full length mirror.
"Don't you worry about picking anything out, I've already got the perfect look in mind for you," said Margo.
“Great, that’s a relief,” replied Olivia.
“Now, for the hips…” Margo said, placing her hands around Olivia’s waist. “You know, I can almost wrap my fingers around that. My 12-year-old nephew is more hippy than you!”
“What should I do?” Olivia asked, sounding concerned.
“Well, I happen to have a beautiful skirt here that I think would certainly help,” Margo replied. “It’s part of our post-maternity signature line. Makes your hips look like you’ve pushed out a baby or two. And the hem is just great for making your thighs a little thicker.”
“I can leave if you need some privacy with, uh…changing,” Michael said as he pondered the double meaning there.
“No, no, stay,” Olivia insisted, as she removed her tight-fitting skinny jeans and her floral print top. “I think I’d like a man’s feedback.”
“Alright,” agreed Michael. He leaned back against the wall. This entire experience felt so odd. He never imagined that they were this detailed. And he never thought in a million years that women would actually consent to such alterations.
Olivia stepped into the skirt, and Michael saw her hips spread as she did so, flaring beautifully against her long legs. Her thighs expanded as the hem fluttered across them, and looked creamy, smooth, and irresistible.
“Keep in mind, you’ve got to sit right if you want to show off those legs,” said Margo.
She sat down on the small chair backwards, her legs splayed out, only the chair’s back blocking her crotch. “This is a good way to get guys looking, without giving away the game.”
“What have you got in terms of bras?” asked Olivia, casually removing her sports bra, giving Michael a view of her nude, small chest.
“Well, you’re an A cup, aren’t ya?” Margo asked in a disapproving tone. She held up an under garment to Olivia’s chest. “How about upgrading to a B, our ‘Buxom’ line?” she said.
Michael’s jaw dropped as the nearly nonexistent little globes swelled to meet the cups, growing to the size of little tangelos.
“B, come on!” Olivia complained. “Bigger!”
“Don’t worry, bigger we can do,” Margo said, pulling the bra off. Olivia’s newly enlarged breasts didn’t change their shape at all. “Just keep in mind, we can always go up a size, but we can’t ever go back down!”
“That’s fine,” Olivia insisted. “Just make me bustier, I’m begging you here.”
“This is our C line, what we call the ‘Curvy. That’ll match your new hips nicely,” she said, holding up the next size. Olivia’s breasts swelled again, this time to the size of fists. Margo was right, they did seem roughly in line with the moderate curve of her still slender frame.
“Just a C?” Olivia asked. “I want to be a cougar!”
“Alright, alright, relax,” Margo said. “DD big enough for you? That’s our ‘Double Deluxe’ line, but I warn you, with girls that big, gravity can affect things, especially when you reach a certain age.”
“Please, please, please put it on,” Olivia begged.
Margo complied, snapping the bra in place behind her back, which suddenly arched forwards as the weight of her new breasts kicked in. Now the size of grapefruits, they were big enough to catch Michael’s eye. But Margo was right, they had lost some of their perkiness and were riding just a little low on her chest.
“Hmm...what do you think of them, Michael?” Olivia asked, turning to face him.
Michael squirmed a little with nerves. It was the first time a woman had openly invited him to ogle her breasts. Not even Jewel was ever this forward, and she was his wife!
“They’re, uh...good,” he mumbled.
“Just good?” Olivia pouted. “I want top of the line!”
“Ok, ok,” Margo said. “Here’s an F cup, just came out. Doesn’t even have a brand name yet. I called it the ‘midlife crisis breast implants special.”
“But my boobs will actually be all natural, right?” Olivia asked.
“As natural as magic can be, yes,” Margo said.
She raised the huge bra over Olivia’s head, and put it on. The girl’s already big breasts grew massive, jutting forwards now as though gravity had just given up on her. The bra fit snugly, giving her a cleavage nearly up to her neck. It would make even a conservative outfit look obscene. Margo fit her with a sparkling tube top, part of her “I Refuse to Dress my Age” line that fit her very tightly.
“Perfect,” Olivia said, cupping the huge mounds and cooing over them.
Michael turned his head away, but kept staring through his peripherals.
“Great,” said Margo. “Don’t be afraid to encourage men to look at them,” she instructed. “A lot of men, like Michael here, still feel nervous about openly staring at a woman’s tits, even a set as fine and as large as yours.”
“Oh dear. How could I get them to look, then?” Olivia asked.
“Well, you could wear a big necklace that falls right into your cleavage. That will give guys an excuse to look, as they can pretend they are taking a gander at your jewelry,” said Margo. “Another trick is yawning.”
“Yawning?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah, it works wonders, honey. Arch your back, put your hands behind your head, cock your head just slightly, clearly close your eyes, and let out a quiet, cooing yawn. It’s a cute pose, almost looks like an ‘O’ face. And guys will see it as an opening to stare, since your eyes are shut. Give it a try,” Margo said.
“All right." She let out a yawn just as she was instructed. Her top rose a little from her skirt, giving Michael a peek at her flat tummy in addition to her enhanced cleavage.
“Fantastic work, great. Michael’s eyes were glued to you! You want to keep your flat tummy or upgrade to a more age appropriate midsection?” Margo asked. “You know, women of a certain age often gain a little weight around the middle.”
“Hmm...I don’t know. Michael, do you like a girl with a bit of a belly?”
Michael swallowed hard. He’d never talked to anyone about his taboo desires. Even in a shop like this, he felt odd admitting it. But he took a deep breath, and nodded.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
“Fantastic,” said Margo. “I’ve got some specially formulated cocoa butters right here. We call this stuff ‘Belly Butter.’ What kind of gut were you looking for? Spare tire, pot belly, love handles?”
“Pot belly,” Michael said.
“Ok,” said Margo, opening up the brown jar and rubbing her hands with some sweet smelling goop. “Just let me know when you’re satisfied.”
Michael watched in fascination as Margo’s hands rubbed Olivia’s midsection. Her nearly concave tummy swelled outwards, rising like dough in the oven as her skin soaked up the Belly Butter. Neither Olivia nor Michael gave the instruction for Margo to stop, so she only did so when the butter had been entirely absorbed. The result was a pert, round belly that Michael knew would poke out of any clothing.
“I’ve also found stuff works wonders on arms,” said Margo, dipping her fingers in more and slathering them on Olivia’s upper arms and shoulders. “Helps get that nice, jiggly, older woman arms everyone loves to squeeze.”
Indeed, Olivia’s shoulders grew rounder and her arms lost definition, developing a small layer of soft, drooping flab.
“What about my voice?” Olivia asked, as she playfully flicked at her new arm flab. “I still sound like a little kid.”
“We have a lozenge that helps with that, alters the hormonal balance on your vocal cords. It also does wonders for improving your sex drive. You want Husky Hazelnut, Sultry Strawberry, Gravelly Grape?” Margo said, reaching for a baggie on a shelf above the mirror.
“Hazelnut is my favorite flavor,” Olivia said.
Margo handed her one, and Olivia gleefully unwrapped it and quickly popped it in her mouth, with all the eagerness of a kid gobbling up Halloween candy.
“Ok, let’s do the face and makeup package,” said Margo. “We’ve got to make you look your age! We’ve patterned the styles off of different celebrities. You excited?”
“Of course! I’m so tired of being treated like an innocent, little kid. And I’m sick of having to ask my friends to buy me booze,” she said, her voice already starting to sound a little huskier. “I can’t wait to be in the prime of my life, and be treated like a sexy, mature goddess.”
“Well, of course we’re going to make that dream come true! But sweetie, I’ve only got one question. How mature do you want to go?” Margo asked.
“Well, what are my options?” asked Olivia.
“On the older side, we’ve classy looks like the Kim Basinger. Geena Davis is great if you want that ‘naughty mommy’ look. Or maybe a Linda Hogan if you’re going for a trashy, slutty vibe,” Margo said, flipping through the binders and showing pictures.
“Wow, they all look sexy,” said Olivia.
Michael silently concurred; they’d all been women he’d fantasized about.
“Of course, many of our customers prefer to start with a little younger look first, then ‘gracefully age’ into one of these as the years as time goes by,” Margo suggested.
“That sounds good. I’ll pick a younger one for now, and then in a few years, I’ll come back for an upgrade,” she said.
That was a thought that sent a chill of excitement down Michael’s spine. Damn, he thought, these people plan for everything!
“For the younger side, we’ve got women like Renee Zellweger,” Margo began.
“She was so cute in that ‘Bridget Jones’ movie,” remarked Olivia. “Why’d she lose the weight?” she asked, her voice sounding lower still and the ‘valley girl’ diphthongs vanishing entirely.
“Hollywood is just crazy,” Margo said with shrug. “Tiffani Thiessen is another great choice, she was very popular for men growing up 20 years ago.”
Michael’s heart leapt as Margo pointed at that picture. She’d certainly been a celebrity crush of his and she’d only gotten more beautiful with time.
“Oh, Christina Hendricks,” said Olivia, pointing at the binder. “That would go perfectly with my new chest.”
“An excellent choice,” said Margo, pulling out a makeup tray from her purse.
“This stuff doesn’t wash off, right?” Olivia asked.
“Of course not, this is permanent,” said Margo. “I’d never use knock-off products.”
“Ok, good,” she said. “Just checking.”
“So, let’s give you some rouge, help develop some rounded cheeks,” she said. Michael saw Olivia’s well defined cheekbones vanish under puffy softness, their new heart shape highlighted by the pink blush.
“I’ve got a styling pencil, that’ll help give you a couple of dimples and very small laugh lines.” Rather than draw them on, though, as the pencil moved, very faint creases and wrinkles appeared on Olivia’s skin. “Just a hint of crow’s feet to finish it up,” said Margo.
“Fantastic!” Olivia said, as she admired her new face. Michael stared into the mirror, dumbfounded. She really did look like she could be 40 years old. The skinny little kid who had walked into this store just a short while ago had completely vanished.
“My last words of advice for you: be assertive. Be aggressive. Take charge. Men like it when a woman knows what she wants,” Margo said, and Olivia nodded.
The three of them walked back to the front desk together. Michael noticed that Olivia had left her old clothes on the changing room floor. It was just as well, he thought - she’d never be able to fit into them again.
“Here’s your bill, if you’re ready to settle up,” Margo said, presenting her with a receipt.
Olivia refused to even look at it, handing over her credit card right away.
“This is the best shopping experience I’ve ever had. Whatever you think is fair, I’ll pay it,” she said. “And tack on 40% extra as a tip for you.”
“As you wish, darling,” said Margo.
Both she and Michael gazed at her as she left the store, her new hips causing her to gain a swaying, sexy motion to her gait.
“That was amazing,” said Michael. “Do you really think my wife would ever willingly go in for something like this?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Margo asked. She walked back towards the changing rooms and opened the door to the second stall.
Out walked a woman Michael could barely recognize, though he knew it had to be his wife. She had a flowing, oversized dark blue silk jacket, and underneath that a matching halter top that showed off a huge, slightly low-riding set of breasts, and her wider waist. She’d developed a cute little double chin, dimpled, very rounded apple cheeks, and faint lines around her eyes. The doe-eyes that had once screamed innocence and empty-headedness now had a slightly steely, lusty glint to them. She’d blossomed into a real woman in Michael’s eyes, and the fact that she’d done it willingly made her even more alluring.
“Wow, Jewel?” he asked. “You look great, but...why did you do this?”
“The salespeople here are really persuasive. They said it would put our marriage back on track,” Jewel said in a deeper, more sultry voice. No longer sounding like a disinterested kid, she kept her gaze focused solely on him. “What do you think? I picked the Thiessen makeup kit, hope that was a good choice.”
“Yeah, yeah, it really was.” Michael agreed breathlessly as Jewel confidently strode towards him.
“I think we ought to get out of here,” Jewel whispered in his ear as she nibbled on it, and gently ground her new bosom against his shoulder.
Michael, licking his lips with anticipation, nodded, and they started to walk out together. Just as they were about to leave Cougar Clothes, Michael cast a fleeting glance backwards. Margo waved goodbye to him, and then flashed him a thumbs up sign.
Did you enjoy Cougar Clothes? Then get The Transformation Mall to explore all of the shops!
Case Study
“Who can tell me what’s so special about the noble gasses?” Ms. Darkin, the frizzy haired science teacher asked her high school class. She gazed around the room, only to meet the familiar sight of glazed over eyes and blank expressions. Finally, and reluctantly, her star pupil raised her hand.
“Yes, once again, Elizabeth?” Ms. Darkin said with a smile.
“Nobel gasses have a full shelf of valence electrons,” Elizabeth started in a soft, quiet voce. “That means that it’s very difficult for them to bond and form molecules with other atoms.”
“Correct, as usual,” Ms. Darkin said. “They are not predisposed to give or to take electrons, so the interaction that causes bonding is all but impossible. Nobel gasses are the outcasts of the atomic table, in that sense.”
The bell rang, and the students could not run fast enough out of the room. Ms. Darkin moved quickly, so that she could have a word with Elizabeth before she left.
“I was hoping,” the teacher started quickly, “that I could get you to sign up for the county science fair again this year.”
“Last year was fun, but…I don’t think so,” Elizabeth said in her usual quiet voice. She hated to disappoint others, but her mind was made up.
“But, why? You are my star pupil. Heck, you’re my only good student! I guess that’s my fault for deciding to be a science teacher in a town like this…” Ms. Darkin’s voice trailed off.
“Some of the other students have given me flack for being, you know, too into science. They say it’s nerdy. And, at my Bible study group, someone quoted Martin Luther by saying ‘Reason is the Devil’s harlot,’” Elizabeth offered. “I think my parents would be happier if I just focused on my cheerleading and left this stuff alone. I’m sorry,” Elizabeth finished, not able to make eye contact. The teacher nodded solemnly, and without saying another word, the thin, blonde, high school senior quietly walked out of the room.
Ms. Darkin let out a long sigh. She knew that this was inevitable in a town like Meadow Falls, Idaho. It was a small town, full of small minds, and in such places science was never appreciated.
Elizabeth, she knew, was a perfect good girl. She was pretty and popular generally, and would be more so if it wasn’t for her association with science geekiness. But what was all that worth? Would the world be better off if she was intellectually shallow, married early, with a bunch of kids? Or, would things be better if the planet had another great scientist to solve the big problems or our time?
It wasn’t a difficult choice for Ms. Darkin to make. And, if Elizabeth couldn’t see the path ahead, she could always have an intervention. With the advances in understanding the human genome, just about anything could be achieved with the right type of DNA cocktail.
She had been working on something new lately. It was untested, but there was no time like the present…
Chapter One: Initial Exposure
The next day, Elizabeth’s routine was quite usual. She woke up early and organized everything in her backpack, made her bed meticulously, and showed and shaved her legs and underarms. She applied a heavy dose of makeup to her already stunning diamond shaped facial features, and ate breakfast. To avoid gaining weight, she measured out exactly seventeen cornflakes, and an eighth of a cup of skim milk.
On the way out the door, she gave her mom and dad a kiss on the cheek, and her two parents smiled as their perfect daughter walked out the door to school.
During P.E., she practiced cheerleading with the other girls. She wasn’t as vivacious as Jillian, the head cheerleader, but she certainly felt comfortable in her crowd. She did notice that while she was slender all around, Jillian had the same body type but inexplicably bigger breasts, and that made her a bit more popular with the boys. There were rumors that her rich dad had paid for her to get implants, but Elizabeth was never the type to believe in rumors. She just figured her friend had more luck with her genetics.
She and Jillian painted each other’s fingernails in the locker room after class, as was their normal custom.
During lunch, she attended her Bible study group. The fact that it was held only during lunch and after school helped skirt rules about religion in public schools. The guest lecturer talked about the evils of the theory of evolution. Elizabeth responded as she typically did, by putting her head down and quietly listening.
When it came time for Ms. Darkin’s science class, Elizabeth made a point of refusing to answer any questions posed to the class. After a few queries went unanswered, the teacher announced that the class would be learning how to create artificial sweeteners as a science experiment. The experiment went uneventfully for Elizabeth, who finished before the rest of the class.
“Don’t drink anything until I check it. I wouldn’t want anything to happen do you if you’ve mixed it wrong. I know it’s tempting to taste, but please wait,” Ms. Darkin warned.
Each of the students had a beaker full of a bubbly green mixture, with various degrees of color and carbonation. Ms. Darkin nodded approvingly at each of them, until she arrived at Elizabeth’s.
“Oh, no no no,” she said. “That one won’t do. But I don’t want you to miss out on tasting the drink. Here, have one that I mixed at my desk,” the teacher said as she replaced Elizabeth’s beaker with her own.
“What did I do wrong? I don’t understand,” Elizabeth asked in a soft voice.
“I can’t go into all of that now,” the teacher answered hastily. “Now everyone” she continued, raising her voice, “bottoms up.”
Elizabeth felt a little ashamed at having made mistake, even though she had no desire to stand out in class. She felt no desire to taste the drink, but everyone else was raising the beaker to her lips, and she didn’t want to be the only one not partaking. With reticence, she lifted the beaker to her lips and swallowed.
To her surprise, it did not taste like the diet soda she often had a lunch. Instead, it was incredibly sweet, so much so that it almost hurt. She considered spitting the drink out, but didn’t want to draw attention to herself by doing something generally perceived as gross and unseemly. As she swallowed it down, she noticed that the cloying sweetness seemed to fade, and was replaced by a warm, pleasant feeling. It started in her stomach and seemed to spread throughout the rest of her body.
Elizabeth swallowed down the rest of the drink, which now tasted completely fine, and went home without giving the experiment another thought.
Chapter Two: Twenty Hours after Exposure
The next day, Elizabeth slept in past her alarm, which was extremely unusual for her. Thrown off from her usual routine, she barely had time to get dressed and toss everything into her backpack. She still managed to slather on some makeup, but skipped her shower. Though her stomach growled with unusual intensity, she skipped her traditional meager breakfast altogether.
“Waking up this late? I don’t deserve to eat,” Elizabeth, ever the perfectionist, thought to herself. She quickly tied her hair back in a ponytail, lacking the time for her elaborate hair curling, and then ran out the door.
She felt distracted throughout P.E., and performed her cheerleading moves only halfheartedly. As she made her way to Bible study during lunch, her stomach growled again, and this time, she felt compelled to acquiesce to its demands. She turned around and headed to the cafeteria. Within a few moments, her orange plastic lunch tray was brimming with generous portions of macaroni and cheese, pizza, and greasy looking breadsticks. She also grabbed a mini carton of whole milk.
Elizabeth was used to being hungry, but she found that it was an impulse that she could ignore fairly easily. Today, though, she felt downright ravenous. She wasn’t sure if it was because she had skipped her minuscule morning meal, but she couldn’t remember the last time she was this starved.
She sat by herself, in the hope that nobody would see her, and then she started eating. Elizabeth eagerly wolfed down her food, barely bothering to chew. Some of the orange cheese from the macaroni smeared on her lips and cheeks as she noisily gulped it down. When she was thirsty, she reached for the milk, tore it open, and started to chug it down, ignoring the straw on her plate. Despite some of the milk splashing out of her mouth, she continued to pour the cold, frothy beverage down her throat until it was empty. After the flow of milk stopped, she opened her mouth wide and shook the carton over her face, hoping to get every last drop. Her stomach felt stretched and bloated, but surprisingly, it felt good to feel so full. She undid the top button of her jeans, and let her ordinarily flat tummy poof out.
She let out a small burp, and noticed a few people had turned around to gawk at the spectacle. Horrifically embarrassed, she stormed out of the cafeteria as fast as she could. On the way out of the hall, she bumped into Ms. Darkin.
“Oh, hello Elizabeth,” the teacher began. “Have you thought anymore about signing up for the science fair?”
“I…I…” Elizabeth hesitated. She no longer felt the resistance she did yesterday, but she knew she’d be too busy for everything. “I think it might conflict with my cheerleading, I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize, I understand,” Ms. Darkin replied, a knowing smile breaking across her face. “Just let me know if you have second thoughts, alright?”
Elizabeth hastily nodded.
Chapter Three: Thirty Days after Exposure
Three alarms went off simultaneously, rousing a groggy Elizabeth from her deep slumber. She had learned from repeated experience sleeping in that she needed more and more help maintaining a regular sleep schedule. When she did finally pull herself out of bed, she didn’t bother to remake it, leaving her sheets and blankets in a tangled mess. She stuffed whatever papers and books she could find into her messy backpack, and headed to the bathroom.
Elizabeth had started taken pains to avoid looking at herself in the mirror, since what she saw increasingly distressed her. Despite her best efforts to regain control of her dietary regimen, she had continued to fall off of the wagon over the past month. When she didn’t splurge on cafeteria food at school, she’d sneak down into her family’s kitchen at night and stuff herself full of that night’s cold leftovers. The food wasn’t always tasty, but she longed for that sated, full feeling and did whatever she could to get it. A few times, when she was worried her family would notice how much food was missing, she left the refrigerator door open and left discarded food scraps on the floor so she could blame the family dog. Though Sparky wasn’t allowed to sleep inside the house anymore, she was sure her parents doubted her story, for their daughter was clearly gaining weight.
Elizabeth gazed at her reflection reluctantly and surveyed the damage. Her face was clearly puffier and slightly greasier looking. Her trademark diamond shaped cheeks were fading behind a soft layer of fat, and the beginnings of a double chin had begun. Elizabeth’s shoulders were a little rounder and wider, and her upper arms looked a tad huskier.
One bright spot was that her small breasts had finally filled out considerably. Her chest would likely give even Jillian a run for her money now. Sadly, her tummy had grown even more, and soft looking potbelly threatened to stick out even further than her bust. Below that, her hips and thighs had widened, and her butt strained against every pair of pants she owned.
Elizabeth let out a long sigh and stepped into the shower. Her hair seemed to be darker that was usual. She had heard of children’s blonde hair darkening as they got older, but had thought that at 18, she was past that possibility. As she vigorously rubbed the shampoo into her scalp, she noticed her chubbier body jiggle slightly.
She dried herself off, and not feeling the need to put on any makeup, put her hair into a ponytail and dressed in the baggiest clothes she owned. She trudged downstairs, and poured herself some cereal. These days, she used a full bowl of flakes instead of measuring out a tiny handful. When her parents weren’t looking, she’d substitute the skim milk for half & half, with delicious results.
“Honey,” her Mom said with a nervous tenor to her voice. “We need to have a little talk.”
“Not now,” Elizabeth said through a mouthful of breakfast, “I’m running late.”
“Alright,” her Mom replied defensively. “But you can’t put us off forever. We are your parents, and we want to help you with whatever is going on, no matter what it is, ok?”
Elizabeth gave her Mom a long hug, but then ran out the door without saying another word. She herself didn’t know what was going on, or why.
During cheerleading practice, it was increasingly obvious that Elizabeth was no longer keeping up. In addition to being noticeably heavier than she had been just a month ago, she seemed to get winded more easily. Furthermore, her coordination had suffered. On two occasions, she performed a step off rhythm. One of these missteps caused someone to almost fall during an aerial move.
As disturbing as these changes were to Elizabeth, she found herself oddly unmotivated to try to keep up the pace. A short while ago, being on the squad was both fun, and a symbol of her status at school. Now, all the jumping and shouting seemed like such a waste of time. Why do all this hard work just to provide moral support to a bunch of football players, who were in turn wasting their time smashing into each other? Why not put this effort into making education cool? Why were the cheerleaders, and not the kids on the honor roll, the cool kids anyway?
“Elizabeth,” the coach began at the end of the session. “We have to…”
“Yeah, yeah, we have to talk. I’m off the squad, right?” Elizabeth cut the coach off, using a cynical tone that surprised even her. The coach, used to the quiet, go along to get along Elizabeth, blanched with surprise.
“While that was what I was going to say, Elizabeth, I’m surprised by your cavalier attitude about this. I’ll let you back on if you shape up. Please, let me know if anything is going on,” the coach lowered her voice before continuing, “like if these changes are because you’re pregnant.”
“What?” Elizabeth replied with indignation.
“I want to respect the privacy of the other girls, but let me say that you wouldn’t be the first pregnant teenager this year,” the coach said, continuing to whisper.
“Look, being a cheerleader isn’t the end all be all of human existence. I’m fine and I don’t need this,” Elizabeth spat, her ears burning.
“Well, if that’s the way you feel…” the coach said with a sigh. The rest of the girls made their way to the locker room to change.
“What went on with you and the coach back there?” Jillian asked her, once inside. “Were you just pissed because she cut you from the squad?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Elizabeth replied. “I don’t know what came over me. I never act like that. I’m so glad it’s nail painting day, Jillian. I really could use a pick me up.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jillian began as she pealed off her cheerleading outfit, revealing her lithe, flawless physique. “If you want to let yourself go to hell, that’s fine. But don’t expect me to come along for the ride.”
“But, I thought we were best friends,” Elizabeth said, her lip quivering.
“We totally were, you know, past tense,” Jillian replied with a sneering tone, as she gazed at Elizabeth’s pudgy body, which strained against the tight cheerleading uniform. “But come on, you’d do the same thing to me if the situation was reversed. I’ve got an image to maintain.”
“Why?” Elizabeth let the existential question hang in the air for several moments. Jillian, too stunned for an answer, merely muttered “whatever” under her breath and walked away.
Though she had called Jillian her best friend moments ago, this certainly wasn’t their first big fight. In the past, though, Elizabeth had always chased her friend down, begging forgiveness, which she always received. She had always assumed that Jillian was an overly sensitive person, and that she needed to be extra careful of her friends delicate feelings.
Now, though, that sense of understanding and forgiveness that had come so naturally to her was gone. Instead, she felt nothing but suspicion for her friend’s motives. Had she staged her previous tiffs, just as a way to show her who was the boss? And was she really so concerned with appearing cool that she’d cut out her best friend over appearance issues? If so, she certainly wasn’t much of a friend to begin with. Elizabeth slammed her locker shut, feeling angry and betrayed.
Elizabeth opted to head to Bible study during lunch instead of the cafeteria, not wanting to risk running into Jillian. In the past, quietly listening to the words of the Gospel was always a soothing and relaxing activity for her, and she relished the thought of getting a moment’s peace on such a difficult day.
The youth organizer read from Genesis, which was common. She had heard the story many times: God had made everything, a snake tricked Eve into eating an apple, and everything went downhill from there. In the past, Elizabeth had accepted this story without giving it a second though. Now, though, she felt questions forcing themselves into her mind and onto her lips.
“I have a question,” Elizabeth began, trying to be as respectful as possible. “Why did God place the tree in the garden if he didn’t want man to eat from it?” The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. “And,” she added, “God’s all knowing, right? He knew what would happen in the garden before he created Adam and Eve. If he knew they’d disobey and cause the fall of mankind, why was he so mad about it?”
“Those are some good questions, Elizabeth,” the youth leader replied, “But, as Christians, we have to accept what’s in the Bible as a matter of faith. God works in mysterious ways.”
“That’s another thing,” Elizabeth countered. “Why do we have to accept the Bible on faith? I mean, couldn’t I just say, you have to accept the Koran on faith, and if it doesn’t make sense to you, then Allah works in mysterious ways? Or Thor, or Zues, for that matter?”
The silence was gone, replaced with hushed, concerned whispering noises. “In a secular world, we’re just animals. We need the morality of Jesus to help by the guiding light in people’s hearts, Elizabeth,” was the reply.
“I have two problems with that,” Elizabeth said, her increasingly strident tone shocking her and the rest of the girls. “One, you’re presenting a false dichotomy of Christianity vs. no belief in anything. Two, largely secular countries like Japan and Sweden have lower crime rates than the US, and within the US, states that are less religious tend to have lower crime rates. So Bible-based morality isn’t motivating people to be good. The evidence shows the opposite.”
“Elizabeth, if that’s how you feel, you should leave,” was the reply.
“Fine,” she said, and made her way for the door. “By the way, human beings are animals. It’s called the theory of evolution. Look it up. There’s more evidence supporting it than the theory of gravity,” she shouted on the way out.
When the day ended and Elizabeth found herself in Ms. Darkin’s science class, she had no trouble putting her hand up and answering every question, even when the eyes of the rest of the class were trained on her. After the bell rang, the frizzy haired science teacher walked up to Elizabeth.
“Let me guess,” Elizabeth said with a snapping tone of voice. “You’re asking me to sign up for the science fair for the millionth time?”
Flustered, Ms. Darkin stammered for a moment.
“I accept!” Elizabeth exclaimed, and gave her teacher a bear hug.
“You don’t usually tell jokes like that,” Ms. Darkin said, a little startled.
“I’ve been in kind of a funk lately,” Elizabeth began. She was about to apologize, which was her general habit when she did anything that was out of the ordinary, but it occurred to her that she had no reason to do it. If someone had a problem with her, that was their problem, she decided.
Before she arrived home, she decided to stop at a grocery store. She received a modest allowance from her parents, which she was used to spending on makeup. She hadn’t worn that in a while, so she figured she ought to divert those funds to snacks.
“No more raiding the ‘fridge at midnight for me,” she said to herself as she stuffed her cart full of junk food. Red licorice, 2 liters of soda, and mini cinnamon rolls made their way into her cart, along with potato chips and sour gummy bears.
When she arrived home, her parents were waiting for her.
“Elizabeth,” her father began sternly, “your mother and I received some disturbing phone calls.”
“Is it true that you’re off the cheerleading squad, Elizabeth? And did you really raise that big fuss during Bible study?” her mother asked, her voice strained and tight.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth replied, nonchalantly.
“What’s going on? You’re not acting like the daughter I know,” her father growled.
Elizabeth paused. It was a good question – she had changed her behavior pretty radically, and there was no apparent explanation.
“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully after a long pause. She knew that, had she been warned how her life was going to change a month ago, she would have been as horrified as her parents must feel now, perhaps even more so. From her current perspective, though, she couldn’t bring herself to feel upset about it. What had happened to her today, though it was upsetting, seemed entirely natural for a girl like her. What really perplexed her was why she had ever joined the cheerleading squad and Bible study to begin with. What had she been thinking?
“You’re not going to get off that easy, Elizabeth,” her father said menacingly. “We’re your parents, and we’re not going to just sit by while something awful happens to our only child. We want you to turn out right”
Elizabeth suddenly had an answer to the question she had just posed herself. She had become a cheerleader and a bible study member because her parents had wanted her to. She had been desperate to be a perfect child, to be whatever they need her to be. Now, she only felt resentment that they had asked her in the first place.
“Things are going to be different from now on,” Elizabeth promised, talking with a new determination that was alien to her. “I’m going to my room and I want to be left alone.” Bags of food in hand, she marched upstairs.
Her parents, shocked at this surprising behavior from their daughter, let her be. In her room, Elizabeth started to eat and drink. She chugged down the soda, and chewed potato chips until her jaw was practically numb. Her stomach grew increasingly round and large, but she didn’t mind. She rubbed the softening flesh with one hand as she laid back in bed and relaxed. All that mattered was that she was becoming full and happy, and the heavy feeling in her gut gave her a warm glow.
Hours later, stickiness from the sour gummy bears coated her fingers, and cinnamon sugar from the rolls fell all over. It showered her bed, her carpet, and even her clothes. A few grains landed fell into her growing cleavage. She didn’t notice as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Four: Four Months after Exposure
Elizabeth rolled out of bed, which took considerable effort. She was on track to be late for school, but P.E. was her first class, so she didn’t mind missing a few minutes. Her old immaculate room was gone, as candy wrappers and wadded up papers covered the carpet. She shoved what she could find into her backpack, and then put on some sweat pants and an ultra baggy T shirt.
In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, but didn’t bother showering. What had once been a daily ritual could now be postponed to every couple of days. Shaving her body hair was also, her mind, a big waste of time. She wasn’t showing off her body to a man, so why did she need to keep it in tip top condition? And besides, if a man wanted her, why would that make her under obligation to fix herself up? She looked at herself in the mirror and pondered how much she had changed.
Elizabeth’s dismissal from the cheerleading squad was effectively the cessation of all forms of exercise. At the same time, she had massively increased the amount of calories she was taking in every day, from a near anorexic handful of food to a regular junk food binge whenever she got the chance. Her body clearly showed the results of her radically altered habits.
Her face bore almost no resemblance to its formal self. The chubby, apple shaped cheeks obliterated her diamond cheek bones, and she had a doughy, double chin to match it. Her hair had become even darker, and now she didn’t even bother with a ponytail. It simply lay limply on the sides of her face.
Her arms were much meatier, and shook violently when she waved at someone. Her breasts, though much bigger, had started to expand to the point where they had begun to sag a little. Her big potbelly jutted out in front of her, and even her back had a couple of rolls of fat.
“Like the cinnamon rolls I love so much,” Elizabeth thought to herself, feeling no sense of shame about the size of her bigger body. She grabbed her belly, and sunk her hands into it. It felt warm, soft, and pleasant to her fingers. Her butt was much bigger as well, though in her mind, it was just a nice big cushion she took with her to make chairs more comfortable. Her thighs were much thicker and wider, and her hips had expanded too, complete with little love handles.
Her parents, though unhappy with her changes at first, had eventually reached a truce of sorts with their daughter. They stayed out of each others way and didn’t criticize each other. Elizabeth missed the closeness she had once experienced with her family, but figured that it was just taking them a while to get used to the new her.
When she arrived at school, she grudgingly changed into her P.E. uniform. She tried to keep up with the rest of the class, but her added heft made it more difficult. A few of the kids had started to make jokes at her expense. Today, they were even joined by Jillian, who shouted, “Nice going, piggy,” when Elizabeth struck out in softball.
In the locker room, Elizabeth felt determined to get even. She marched her way over to Jillian, who didn’t even acknowledge her presence.
“You think you’re something just because you’re thin and you have big tits,” Elizabeth shouted at her former best friend. “Well, I’ve got you beat in one of those categories,” she said as she removed her top and her bra. Her massive, fat breasts sprang free.
“What are you doing?” Jillian asked, feeling embarrassed.
“Big, aren’t they? And I didn’t have to have my Daddy fly me to Orange County to get them stuffed full of silicone,” Elizabeth said. Jillian, horrified that her secret was out, ran out of the room as fast as her toothpick legs could carry her.
Elizabeth didn’t bother debating the Bible study people anymore. Now, she spent her time hanging out at the school’s anime club, which was largely populated by other nerdy kids.
“Lizzy!” was the shout that greeted her as she walked into the AV building where the club’s lunch meeting was held. She had asked new friends to call her by the nickname, as her full name seemed so feminine and antiquated.
“Hey gang, good news, I brought donut holes,” she said, pulling a big box from her bag. “I thought it would give us energy for writing some good fan fiction. I’ve got an itch for some really unorthodox couples,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Just then, the door opened, and Ms. Darkin stepped into the room.
“Lizzy,” she began, and Elizabeth smiled. She was the only person who had switched over to her nickname. “I’m so glad I caught up with you. You finished the project for the science fair last night, right? The deadline is today.”
“Actually,” Elizabeth began, as she absentmindedly started munching on a donut hole, “I got a new idea.”
“A new idea! You’ve had six new ideas already for this fair,” the teacher replied. “You’ve got to have the discipline to develop the idea once you get it. You can’t just move on to the next idea.”
“But this one’s so good!” Elizabeth gushed. “Where’s some chalk? I’ll show you.” She picked up a stick, and started writing some chemistry equations on the blackboard behind her. “See, it all started when I thought about Noble gasses, right? Well, what if you could shear off one electron off of each atom? Just alter it a little bit? You’d start a chain reaction. In no time, the behavior of that atom would change radically. It would start bonding that would have been unthinkable for it, so to speak, in its old state. It would end up involved in bigger molecules it never would have otherwise. Think of the applications for, say, fuel cells. Why do we have to be content with Hydrogen’s destiny being plain old water? It can be whatever we want it to be.”
“That’s brilliant,” Ms. Darkin began. “You should start developing that for the fair right away. Why didn’t you do that last night, anyway?”
“I like to get ten hours of sleep these days, I feel more rested. And eating takes a bit longer than it used to. Also, ‘Sailor Moon’ was on,” Elizabeth explained. One anime club member gave her a high five for the mention of one of their favorite shows. “I’m lucky I ran into you. I might have forgotten to write down that equation. Don’t erase that chalkboard,” Elizabeth added with a casual shrug.
“You’re a brilliant scientist, but you’ve got to focus,” Ms. Darkin pleaded. “You need to develop this idea. I can help you, if you need help.”
“Yeah, but what if I would have come up with a better idea, if I hadn’t spent all my time on the grunt work of developing this one?” Elizabeth complained. “I’m more of a conceptual person.”
“Science is all about rigor and the experimental process,” the teacher replied weakly.
“Well, maybe science needs to chance to respond to the needs of people like me. You know, Albert Einstein was so disorganized that he paid people to stand around in his house and write down his ideas if he was suddenly struck with inspiration. Speaking of that,” Elizabeth began, her eyes suddenly widening, “I’ve got a great inspiration for an experiment for your class today.”
“What is that?” Ms. Darkin asked, thinking she might have to get another blackboard.
“The effect of pizza on a high school student’s stomach. Let’s order a dozen for the class!” At her suggestion, the other anime club members got excited. A dozen nerdy kids, most of them overweight and wearing ill fitting clothes, started cheering for pizza. It was about as far removed from her cheerleading days as was possible, but somehow, Lizzy felt like she belonged.
Epilogue: The Formula’s Future
Ms. Darkin remained in her classroom long after the students had left. Lizzy’s idea was based on the chain reactions resulting from the smallest changes. Ironically, nowhere had that been more true than in her experiment with Lizzy’s DNA. She had meant only to gently prod her in the right direction, to give her a gentle nudge into becoming a bit more comfortable with her scientific mind. Unintended social pressures had exacerbated the changes, causing then to go much farther than she had ever intended. She was almost a different person now, one who would forever have difficulty fitting into mainstream society, and especially a small town like Meadow Falls, Idaho.
On the upside, though, she did have proof positive that her DNA concoction worked. And while she might not have a student who would take home the science fair trophy, she knew that Lizzy had the potential for scientific greatness. As much as she wanted to feel guilty for all she had inadvertently done to make Lizzy’s life more difficult, that one fact seemed to overpower everything. If she had it to do all over again, she decided that she would.
Next year’s class, she decided, would be quite interesting.
THE END
Embers in the Frost
At least, I thought that was it. A compulsive gambler wishes to always win, but he fails to do so. A perfectionist needs to be satisfied, yet they never will. And I desired companionship, though that too was near impossible.
It was this thought that helped ruin the start of what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation. That old saying – when one is hungry, everyone looks like lemon custard, or however it goes – proved itself to me then, as it did often.
Loneliness, my particular affliction, affected all areas of my perception. The kissing couple in the seat ahead of me? An unpleasant reminder of my love life, or lack thereof. The couple fighting in the seat behind me? Proof that even if I did find a relationship, I still might not be completely happy. That woman who refused to acknowledge me on the way in? A testament to my own unappealing nature. The cute attendee that smiled at me as I got to my seat? Just a company policy of friendliness. She wouldn’t smile at me unless she was paid to do it.
There are, of course, many people who suffer as I do, or worse. And there are many different methods they employ to help ease their suffering. There is alcohol, drugs, self-mutilation, fervent religious belief, reckless risk-seeking, and binge eating. My favored method of dealing with the pain of reality was simply distracting myself from it. No, not distracting myself from the pain, distracting myself from reality. In moments of inner reflection, I can contemplate life and how it progresses from the perspective of an outsider. The pain and injustice of the world appears only theoretical as I distance myself from anything that exists outside the boundaries of my mind. Meanwhile, the time I spend in my head distracts me from noticing anything else disturbing the world around me.
I gave that world a cautious glance, not desiring to draw too much of it in. Ah, time for our servers to bring us our evening meal. I barely noticed the food as I thought about where the silverware was made. Perhaps China. If so, it was almost certainly made under labor conditions that were questionable at best viewed from a first-world country’s perspective. Were the workers resentful or were they pleased that they had some form of employment, even a poor one? Should a U.S. company that hires Chinese workers be responsible for complying with both Chinese and U.S. labor laws? Would China restrict trade to America if we were to enact such a policy? How much would that impact our economy?
This was a waste of my time, as everything was. But even as I was on vacation, even as I had mastery over my own mind and my own personal state of affairs, I was unhappy. Part of me had been unhappy so long that it was simply accepted. It was simply an unavoidable infection, like a reoccurring cancer or a cold sore on the lip.
After my meal, I train in vain to sleep. The demons of insomnia tormented me often, and this appeared to be no exception.
~
A sudden jolt awakened me from my slumber. The seat of the train appeared to be giving way from under me, and before I could react, I fell through the floor and onto the tracks. Like an angry beast, the train roared over me, barely missing my fortunately thin frame. A few moments later, and the train was gone.
Still shaken and in pain, I pulled myself to my feet to discover that there was no sight of civilization. There were a few faded green trees on the hills, and the trail of tracks ahead of me and behind. Aside from that, everything was buried.
It was as if a great, Asian Tsunami had wandered off course, discovered the climate of North America, and perished before it had the chance to turn back. There wasn’t so much snowfall as there was simply a wall of snow that began several feet below where I stood. As it was still falling, the wall appeared to reach towards the sky, obstructing my vision and my breath. Without any supplies or snow gear, the walls of snow had me trapped. I knew I’d almost certainly be unable to move within a few minutes and perish within a few hours.
At the time, it did not occur to me that my typical miserable self would take some small amount of pleasure in the end of my suffering. All I wanted then was to live, to feel warm air in my lungs, to somehow find deliverance. Not being a religious man, I took no comfort in prayer, though I did attempt to stand and walk as far as I could before I fell.
Although the pain was excruciating, I did not feel myself losing strength as I slowly trudged through the tundra. A few yards later, I was musing the final signs of hypothermia when I saw her.
A woman was standing on a bank of snow, her hands placed firmly on her hips in a show of defiance. More startling than the appearance of another human being was her attire: she was dressed in skimpy, summer clothes, barely covering her flesh. Yet, her cheeks were not rosy with the cold, and as I approached nearer, her flesh was not wrinkled in goosebumps. She was almost painfully thin, her ribs and shoulders pinching and pulling her artificially tan skin.
“What’s the matter?” she asked with an air of condescension. “Can’t make it out here?” I felt too stunned to answer. We were dying, or at least I was, and her one thought is to mock me?
I quickly put my pride aside and realized that I had to find some way of emulating this woman’s cold-resistant secret if I was to survive. I took a deep breath and tried to shout a response to her, despite the fact that her soft voice had strangely no trouble permeating the storm.
“Whatever you’re doing to keep yourself warm, I want to do it!” The mysterious woman tossed her head back and cackled. Her laugh was both softly feminine and sinisterly malicious, and sent a stronger chill down my spine than the cold.
“What makes you think I’m surviving any better you?” I pondered the statement, and the impossible situation at hand. Before I could reach any reasonable explanation, she spoke again. “Do you really think I can save you? I’m not smart, I’m not nice, but beauty, well…”
I shook my head. “No, you could not save me. Nor do you possess beauty of any kind.” She nodded slowly, her thin lips creasing in a smile.
“Perhaps, then, there is a different girl in this snowstorm who will save you.” With that statement, she hung her head and hunched her shoulders sullenly. For a moment, there was a flash of light, and although I was physically still standing only a few feet from her, I felt as if she was fading away.
As my eyes adjusted, I noticed that her complexion was quickly changing, first becoming nearly as pale and wan as the snow, then becoming faintly red with the cold. Her main of hair changed from peroxide blonde to a deep chocolate. Her tiny, diamond face become softer and more delicate.
The near-starved body of mainstream beauty also changed. Angular, protruding bones disappeared under a thin layer of healthy-looking flesh. A softer, rounder girl emerged, one perhaps still pretty in the eyes of most but now lacking the look of self-denial.
The changes did not stop there. The outfit that had clothed her earlier seemed to be replacing itself with baggier, bulkier clothes, which served both to better protect one from the cold and hide their body shape. And that shape was still in flux. The girl who only a few minutes ago could have modeled for a magazine now would only appear in a plus sized catalogue. The baggy jeans and sweatshirt she was now wearing prevented me from seeing exactly how big she was, but it was clear that she would probably be looked down upon by most at her current size.
My observation of her transformation suddenly ended as her eyes fluttered open. Darker eyes stared at me, from under darker, thicker eyebrows. Her posture was no longer confident, but now slouched and self conscious.
“Where are we? I’m so cold…” Her voice, now slightly deeper and far more serious sounding, was nevertheless far harder to hear over the roar of snow. As I prepared to answer her as best I could, I saw a cabin on the hills right behind her that I was certain wasn’t there before. I pointed to it and told her that we should get out of this weather quickly. As we walked, she stumbled, and I grabbed a hold of her hand to steady her balance.
We did not break the link until we were at the door of the small cabin, which surprisingly, knocked at us before we could knock on it.
~
“Sir? Sir? We have arrived.” My head jolted forwards, only to hit the roof of my cabin. I was back in the train, and the knocking door was the door to the train’s corridor.
I swore out loud, partly from the head pain but mainly because the dream was over. That dream would probably be the best thing that happened to me my entire trip, and now it was gone forever.
~
The name of my city was as irrelevant as the name of the company that provided me my pouch of peanuts during my travel towards it. It was small, and it was northern, and it was mine. Each winter I could count on not being bothered. Each winter, I could appreciate the natural beauty of the country environment, and I could find some small measure of inner peace.
This particular visit, however, was marred with feeling of unease and anxiety. My vivid dream had made me feel more lonely and troubled than ever, and the snow was nearing the levels of my dreamscape. It wasn’t until I was settled into my usual cabin that I was able to finally repel the cold, but that was replaced with a far deadlier emotion.
One additional motivation to getting away from the city was that it was a prime spot do some writing. I did academic articles for a few magazines on philosophy, and usually the silence helped me come up with ideas. The panicky, constrictive feeling of writer’s block was already taking hold of me, and I hadn’t even resided in my little dwelling for more than 30 minutes.
After a few more agonizing minutes, I decided to pay a visit to the chain coffee shop and receive some caffeine. Perhaps then I’d be able to snap myself out of it, I thought to myself.
~
It was at the coffee shop that it happened. After obtaining my cup of tea, I began to look for a place to sit down – and I saw her.
It wouldn’t be accurate to say that I saw her immediately. My eye caught her for a moment, and my mind registered a remarkably good looking woman for a few moments, and I moved on. Then, as if I was transported back to my dream, I realized that this was in fact the same woman.
Too afraid of, well, reality itself and its new nature, I timidly sat at the table nearest my current position and contented myself with only gazing at her. One sure sign of an insecure woman is when being eyed, she’ll always take a quick glace behind her, as she imagines there must be some beautiful woman directly behind her that’s being admired.
When I saw that she was preparing to leave, I finally summoned up my courage and curiosity. I made my way to her table, trying my best to seem nonchalant and friendly. In that aim, I’m almost certain that I failed.
“Hi, I’m Jason…noticed you were sitting alone, and thought you might want someone to talk to.” My voice sounded tight and false, but it was the best I could do.
“I’m Brandi…and…uh…” I decided to interrupt, hoping to pre-empt her untimely exit.
“I did notice thought that you seemed just about ready to go. I don’t want to keep you if you are in a hurry to get somewhere…is that what’s happening or do you have a few minutes to chat?” She shook her head, then sighed in apparent frustration.
“No, I mean, yeah I have time.” We chatted for a while, and my focus quickly became less on deciphering my dream and more on wanting to get to know Brandi. The dream could have been some kind of omen or prophecy, but the Brandi in front of me now was undeniably real.
There is a lot to be said for human interaction, when it works right. It brings happiness, hope, and inspiration. The emptiness inside seems to vanish, if only for a little while.
~
We met the next day, and the next, and the next. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Brandi was the kindest soul I had ever known. Never did I hear a word of anger or resentment leave her mouth. Never was there undeserved judgment or ill-will.
She was a high school English teacher, and astounded me with her intellectual prowess with literature and other forms of the written word. My writers block quickly vanished when she gave me a few inspiriting suggestions.
It was partly my respect and admiration for Brandi that kept me from asking her certain questions. There was nothing I feared more than somehow making a blunder and scaring her away. This fear was beaten back when I decided to finally tell her about the dream.
The morning was strangely warm, and the snow was slushy enough to trudge through with proper shoes. Brandi’s idea was to hike together to a scenic area, now that the weather was permitting it, at least for today.
“Brandi, can I make a somewhat unusual inquiry?” We had known each other only for about a week, but she was already able to pick up on some of my social cues. The tightness of my voice must have given it away, for she looked at me with a puzzled look for a second.
“Sure, go ahead, it’s your prerogative.” Under normal circumstances, I’d be basking in the glow of Brandi’s voice, which carried a rich, almost tonal quality. It was a slightly deep and sultry, but at the same time had a pleasant feminine lilt. Or, perhaps I’d enjoy the rarity of meeting another individual who used words like “prerogative” in casual conversation. At that moment, I was thinking about the dream and how to describe it.
“The night before first met, um…well…”
“Oh, yeah? I had wanted to discuss it earlier, I had a very remarkable dream.” I stared at her wide-eyed. “I found myself stranded on a hill, surrounded by a lake of magma. Every second, my island of dirt was getting smaller and smaller. As the lava got closer to me, I saw that it was carrying many dead bodies and I knew I would join them in the next few minutes.”
“What did you do?” I asked as she turned her head skyward.
“Well, I started looking up towards the sky, and there was a giant eagle soaring up there safely. I suddenly had a desire to follow him, and I jumped up in the air. I felt myself getting lighter and lighter, and I saw that I was transforming into a bird myself. The two of us soared above the lava, until we reached a small building in a nearby, unscathed forest. We started to become people again, but…I woke up.”
“That’s an amazing coincidence,” I began, “because I had a somewhat similar dream that same night.”
“Well, go ahead,” she said, and I tried my best to recount the events of my unconscious adventure.
~
“So you had exactly the opposite dream I had?”
I quickly shook my head. “How did you get that idea?”
“Well in my dream, to escape a dilemma, I had to make a positive transformation. In your dream, I made a negative one.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Jason. I started out pretty and ended up…like this. That’s about as negative as you can get.”
“No, it’s not. You’re very pretty.” At this, she loudly scoffed.
“Yah, right.” For a few moments, we trudged in silence, avoiding eye contact. “You want to see pretty? Look at this.” We stepped out of the cover of the trees, arriving at our destination.
A large canyon carved through the landscape below us, dotted green with trees under the white blanket of snow. The canopy stretched off into the horizon, almost as if the landscape was melting into the clouds and connecting to the sky itself.
“That…that is beautiful,” Brandi started with a tear in her eye. “I’ve been ugly my whole life.” I started to speak up, but she cut me off. “Jason, you’re a great guy and I’m glad I’ve finally met a man who’s liked my intelligence. But please stop with the fake compliments, ok? Everybody else sees the same thing that I do when I look in the mirror and most have let me know at some point.”
There was a small vantage point bench, and we parked ourselves on it. The air between us hung with a frostier chill than any brought about by the winter, and for quite a while, nobody said a word.
Eventually, I spoke up. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“No, it’s just…just a touchy subject with me,” Brandi said after she let out a sigh.
As I gazed at her, I felt a sudden need for are more personal, physical intimacy. Yes, she was attractive, but my feelings were far beyond that. I wanted to hold her when she needed to cry, or have her do the same for me in my times of need. I wished to wander around my house and know that if I wanted, I could run up to her and greet her with a loving embrace whenever I so desired. I yearned to appreciate, to cuddle, to love the warmth of her being.
What saddened me, and caused me to turn my head towards the distinctly less moving scenic view, was that I knew there would be impediments to this. She was, as of now, probably too uncomfortable with herself to allow someone else to feel good about her. She also was probably not all that interested in me, few girls, if any, ever had been. It struck me as inherently wrong and unjust that these problems should exist, because I had never found anyone quite like her. I knew that should we grow apart, my return to hopelessness might very well be a permanent one.
As I adjusted my posture, however, I saw her looking towards me, and perhaps a little too quickly turn her head away. I kept my eyes on her, waiting for her to look towards me again.
I wasn’t disappointed; she was staring at me again, and this time our eyes locked. There was a certain look of pleading within those deep, brown irises.
“Do you…” she stopped herself, then began again. “Do you really think I’m pretty? Just, be honest.”
“You’re amazing. You’re a rose in a desert. You’re an ember in the frost.” The fire I had alluded to began to show in her cheeks as her face flushed. At first, she choked back a small sob, then she smiled.
“Thanks. You’re the…well nobody…You’re cute too, by the way.” I scooted myself a bit closer to her. “You’re….you’re….well…” Our lips met before she could finish. I felt myself melt at the sensation of her soft lips upon mine, and my skin tingled as we kissed.
We pulled our arms around each other and pulled our bodies close as the kiss grew hungrier. My entire mouth felt glowing, and my mind felt on the verge of bursting with happiness.
When we broke the kiss, we were panting and giggling like kids. Our eyes locked together for a few more minutes, and then Brandi spoke.
“I was going to say you’re comet in an empty sky…but that doesn’t come close to doing you justice” I smiled, not my usual smile of politeness, nor my calculated smile of false happiness, but a rare, genuine smile. The corners of my mouth almost seemed to be buoyed up by recent events and unable to come back down.
~
There was a certain level of newfound confidence in Brandi from that day forward. It wasn’t just a brighter smile or a swing in her step. Her entire composure had changed. The old shame and hesitancy seemed gone, replaced with noticeable pride in herself. When I pointed this out to her, she mentioned how she had noticed a similar change in myself, though I certainly wouldn’t have ever guessed it on my own.
One night, at my cabin, her newfound confidence was expressed to me in a new way.
“You know, I’ve been thinking some more about that dream you had…tell me again about how my little metamorphosis was a good thing.” I started to talk about the different tastes of beauty, but she put her finger to my lips.
“No, Jason….” She walked towards me, and positioned her body close to mine. “Tell me why I’m…sexy.” I was silent for an awkward moment, not fully knowing what to say.
“I’ve felt embarrassed my whole life, but you’ve given me some looks the last few days…and, I like it.” I barely knew where to begin, but I could try.
“You’re sexy because you’re soft, perfect to hug, to cuddle, to caress…” As I said those words, her tank top came off, revealing her large breasts straining her braw and her gentle looking tummy spilling over her pants. As she stepped even closer to me, I noticed her shoulders were slightly wider than mine. “You’re also sexy because you’re strong…you’re bigger than me, your frame is larger than mine…you have a strong mind…strength is sexy, too.”
“You know what’s sexy about you?” She undid the clasps of her bra, and her large breasts bounced free. “You’re able to admit all that…most guys aren’t into their feelings at all, especially not those kind.”
My eyes, still mesmerized by her bosom, didn’t notice her hands moving towards my shirt. Quickly, she ripped it open, and then discarded it.
“Your body, too…sexy…” I was pretty thin for a man, and didn’t see myself what was sexy about it. “A buff guy carries so much stigma of aggression and anger…but a skinny guy…he’s cute…masculine, but vulnerable.”
We met in a kiss, not innocent or magical like our first, but almost feral and animalistic. My hands started to cup her bountiful breasts, and as I gently pinched her nipple, she slightly bit down on my lower lip.
We almost tripped and fell in mutual surprise, but we quickly made our way to the bedroom and started to rapidly remove the rest of our clothes. Our bodies rolled together, and her feminine softness pressing down upon me was indescribably blissful. Time seemed to blur as we made love, and when it was over, we were holding each other and crying with joy.
No further words needed to be spoken. I started to fall asleep in the arms of my Goddess, completely content for the first time in my life. I knew then that I never would leave her, that nothing would ever destroy our bond.
These are the moments of possibility, I now realize, that are the embers in the frost of life of which one truly dreams. They are the moments that one desires feverishly in moments of bleakest despair. They seem impossible, and yet, we know they are not in our hearts. They are the dreams capable of becoming reality that make the rest of life worth living.
As I now enjoy life with my Goddess I cry out to my fellow mortals, "Let us never surrender these dreams, for they are all that is good within us and our existence."
When college pals Skyler, Miranda, Judy are suddenly thrust back in time to 1952, everything about their world turns upside down. But what they weren't expecting was for their personalities to flip to suit the changing times! As the decades pass, conservative Skyler slowly become a cougar hippie, while liberal feminist Judy becomes a reactionary housewife and athlete Miranda becomes a secretary dedicated to sleeping her way to the top. This is an erotic age progression transformation story with a focus personality changes, and also includes weight gain.
Nerdy Girlfriend
Alan and Tom were college roommates and best friends, and they were nerds. Not just run of the mill nerds, but full blown, Star Trek convention attending, computer addicted, chess mastering, Dungeons and Dragons playing nerds. The two young men were quite similar, with only one real difference defining them – their opinion of the most popular girl in school, Michelle.
This important distinction was very important when Tom and Alan ran into Michelle. She was the captain of their college’s cheerleading squad, and deserved that title in every respect. She possessed a stunning quantity of traditionally defined beauty, she was a skilled acrobat, and she was haughty and pretentious enough to feel genuinely at home atop the proverbial social ladder. She had short, well coifed hair, a slightly tanned and flawless complexion, an extremely slender physique.
Alan was quite smitten with her. From the moment he first saw her, he felt consumed with infatuation. He even had once hid under the bleachers and secretly watched her during cheerleading practice. He desperately desired Michelle to be his, and lamented this desire’s impossibility to Tom often.
Tom wasn’t at all interested in Michelle – how could he be? Tom felt that since she had nothing in common with him, there was no real attraction. And likewise, Michelle wasn’t at all interested in Alan. The few times they had bumped into each other, Michelle refused to even speak to him. She walked right past him as if he didn’t even exist.
Tom was a good friend, and while he understood that Alan’s motives for wanting Michelle were skewed, he felt sympathetic to his buddy and decided to help.
He decided to do some online research to see what he how he could help Alan. In no time, he had found exactly the guide he needed.
“Let me see,” Tom said, studying the list he had found…I’m not a magical practitioner, I’m not a scientist with access to funny chemical compounds…aha! Rule Nine…” Tom started. “Law of wish realization inevitability – any wish made by anyone anywhere will be inevitably granted.”
“I wish for Michelle to become the kind of girl that would fall in love with…a nerdy guy like Alan.” Tom head a knock on the door, and half expected that there’d be a sudden poof, or the room would spin, and he’d suddenly come face to face with his best friend making out with Michelle. But he saw nothing. The knock repeated itself, and Tom finally got around to answering it.
“Hey Tom,” Alan said as he entered the apartment. “Whatcha up to?”
“Eh, nothing much,” Tom replied. “Nothing much at all...”
Chapter Two: The Perfect Girlfriend
After a few more minutes of chatting with Alan, Tom had decided that the whole wish thing was rubbish. He felt embarrassed at having even looked up such a facile solution to his friend’s problem. As the two played D & D, Tom tried once again to explain to Alan why he saw dating differently.
“Isn’t this the best?” Tom opined with a certain degree of vagueness in his slightly nasal tone of voice.
“The best what? Game?” Alan squeaked in his high pitched voice. “Well, there’s chess, Magic the Gathering, World of Warcraft…maybe this is in the top 5…” Alan’s voice trailed off as he mentioned still more games.
“No, I meant playing games in general.” Tom clarified.
“Well, of course.” Alan replied.
“Well, wouldn’t you want your perfect girlfriend to be able to sit down and join us?” Tom asked, getting to his point.
“Why would Michelle be interested in D & D? She’s a cheerleader.” Alan responded with confusion.
“No, not Michelle, I mean, a perfect hypothetical girlfriend. I mean, as if you had designed her to be whatever you wanted. Wouldn’t you want her to enjoy doing the things you enjoy?”
“Well…maybe,” Alan hedged. “But I don’t know if that’s sustainable. How many supermodels do you know that play role playing games?”
“We’re talking hypothetically here, Alan. You can make anyone like anything you want.” Tom reminded him.
“I know, but you’re missing the broader context, Tom. What hot chick would choose to continue to keep playing games in the basement with nerds, even if that was her highest ambition? There’s just so many social and financial rewards for other behaviors. Becoming a cheerleader, a model, making friends with the popular people…how is she going to resist that forever?” Alan asked, with a sense of triumph.
“What about you? I don’t see you running off to join the football team to impress Michelle and join that popular world.” Tom countered.
“Well, that’s not exactly a workable option for us, Tom. We were given the gifts of brains, not brawn,” Alan replied.
“Well, you aren’t going to get an argument from me on that one,” Tom conceded, and the two chortled in laughter for a few moments.
Chapter Three: The Game
After failing to convince his friend to change his standards, he figured that Alan’s loneliness was just going to be a permanent fixture of their lives. He was therefore quite surprised when their lunchtime chess game was interrupted by a most unexpected guest.
“1.e4,” Tom announced in chess notation as he made the first move of the game.
“…c6” Alan replied as he entered his favorite chess opening, the Caro-Kann
“2.e4” Tom responded quickly, and Alan moved “2…d5” just as quickly. Tom thought about his next move for a while, and then made his decision. “3.f3”
“What the heck is that?” Alan quipped, “You’ve never played that before.”
“It’s called the fantasy variation,” Tom responded. “I read an…interesting story online that introduced me to…to...” He stopped speaking as he looked over Alan’s shoulder. Michelle was walking over to their table! “Muh, muh…” Tom stuttered, unable to finish speaking the name of Alan’s crush.
“Don’t mind me,” Michelle began, “This game looks interesting, mind if I watch?”
“Go right ahead,” Alan squeaked, and she pulled up a chair and stared at the board intently.
The next few dozen moves of the game didn’t go well for Alan. Though usually a solid player, he floundered around the board, his pieces taking inactive positions. Tom credited his superior less to the Fantasy Variation and more to Alan’s inability to keep his eyes on the board, with Michelle sitting right next to him.
Tom could tell that Alan was close to resigning. After another attacking move, Tom felt as though victory was inevitable. He saw Alan’s hand drift towards his King, ready to tip it over in resignation. Before he reached it, however, it was stopped by Michelle’s.
For a brief moment, their hands hesitated, lingering over the board. After a poignant silence, Michelle finally spoke: “May I?” she asked.
“Uh…sure,” Alan responded at least, not quite sure what Michelle was asking but confident enough that his answer would be yes in just about every case. Michelle reached for Alan’s Queen and moved it directly into the path of Tom’s pawns.
“Michelle, I…you…uh…” Alan was unable to formulate his words, trying to explain that she was giving away his Queen in a hopeless position. Tom, however, saw the position for what it was and smacked himself on the forehead. How could he have missed this?
“It’s a draw!” Michelle exclaimed. “Stalemate. If he captures your Queen, you have no legal moves and the game’s tied. But if he doesn’t capture, you’ll just put him in check and force him to capture next turn. You’ve secured the draw in worse position.” It was truly a brilliant maneuver, and Tom was less upset at Michelle for telling Alan about it than he was upset at himself for not having anticipated it himself.
“Well lunch is already over, catch you guys later,” Michelle said, as she scampered off towards her table. Alan was too stunned to reply; he simply sat there, his jaw slack with incredulity.
Chapter Four: The Invitation
At first, Tom and Alan didn’t know what to make of Michelle’s strange behavior. There wasn’t a logical explanation.
“She couldn’t be an expert chess player…” Alan whispered to Tom during science lecture.
“But, it’s equally unlikely that any novice would have seen that move.” Tom whispered back.
“Well, if she was just having fun with us, why would she have suddenly become so into the game? And how would she know an opportunity like that would come up?” Alan inquired. Tom had an answer prickling in the back of his mind, but he didn’t allow himself to consider it. That just couldn’t be the answer…could it?
The two didn’t have to wait too long before seeing Michelle again. At the end the day, they literally bumped into her in the hall. Alan was surprised to actually hear her apologize and even helped pick up some papers that had fallen in their little collision.
“Hey, what are you doing this afternoon?” Michelle asked the still stunned nerd duo.
“Uh, well, um…” Alan squeaked, desperately trying to come up with something more impressive sounding than what was occurring. Tom, on the other hand, had a funny feeling that the truth was exactly what Michelle wanted to hear.
“Playing D & D, or maybe Magic the Gathering, why?” Tom asked. Alan scowled, subtly tried to nudge him. His eyes seemed to say “Hey Tom, you don’t want her to think we’re a bunch of nerds, do you?”
“Ooh, sounds cool. Mind if I come?” Michelle asked as she batted her mascara-filled eyelashes. Alan was again rendered speechless, and so it fell to Tom to answer. He was still a bit skeptical.
“Don’t you have cheerleader practice today?” Tom asked, slightly raising an eyebrow.
“Eh, well, yeah. I mean…” It was Michelle who now seemed to have trouble speaking clearly. “Well, I do, yes. But I’m ditching it. One day won’t kill the squad, right?”
Tom nodded approvingly. “Of course. We’d love to have you over to play some games.”
Chapter Five: Dinner for Three
Alan and Tom walked back to their apartment with a sense of disbelief: here it was, Friday night, and they were going to be playing their favorite games with the most popular girl in school. Alan was tripping over his feet (moreso than usual) as they finally got to the apartment. Tom wasn’t sure which was more of a coincidence: the wish he had made yesterday or the hypothetical question he had posed to Alan last night.
By the time they were setting up the D & D table, Alan’s nerves had finally calmed down. By the time they were creating the character sheets, it was obvious to both young men that something man than a radical change interests was happening to Michelle.
“So, I’m guessing you want to be the elf, the lithe, thin, spritely race?” Alan asked, trying his best to say it flirtatiously.
Michelle loudly – and uncharacteristically – combined a snort with a scoff. “Yeah, right. Why don’t I play the dwarf, short, shout, strong, hearty – and with a nice constitution bonus?”
Neither Tom nor Alan was sure how to understand this remark. Had she really just shot down a comparison between her and a lovely elf in favor of one between her and a homely dwarf? Or had she only suggested that she play the dwarf to create as much contrast between herself and her role-playing alter ego as possible? Or had she just wanted the character’s constitution bonus? And how in the world did someone playing this game for the first time know that dwarves receive that bonus anyway?
No answers became apparent, and the game continued. Michelle continued to display traits that made it seem as though she never was a cheerleader. Upon sitting down, she didn’t hold herself with great poise and grace, as Alan had often observed her do during English class. Instead, she simply flopped down, slouching a little bit against the couch, which made her look shorter and more casual. When Tom made nerdy puns about rules in the game, she laughed a big, bellowing, dorky, unladylike laugh.
The hours flew by and soon it was evening. “What’s for dinner around here?” Michelle asked, rubbing her flat tummy. “I’m starving.”
“I don’t know…maybe we can get pizza?” Alan asked. Michelle brightened up.
“Great idea! Let’s try ordering it online!” Michelle exclaimed. Tom merely shrugged and pulled out his laptop.
“What’s this article here, ‘How to eat an entire pizza in one sitting?" Michelle asked, pointing to an online tab saved from his last browsing session. Tom stammered for a minute and took back his laptop, and then Michelle continued. “Looks totally neat, I want to give that a try. Let’s order two pizzas and see if I can pull this off…” Alan looked a little bit taken aback, but Tom’s eyes widened. He unconsciously licked his lips as he imagined Michelle stuffing her face with slice after slice of pizza.
“Stop that,” he mentally scolded himself. “She’s for your friend, remember?”
When the pizza arrived, the boys were surprised to see Michelle answer the door and take care of the pizza tab.
“You didn’t have to do that, Michelle,” Tom said.
“Well, it’s the least I can do, given that you’ve both taught me to play some awesome games. Plus – I plan to eat more pizza than both you scrawny guys put together!” Alan and Tom seriously doubted both of these claims. Michelle had picked up the rules to D & D quickly – too quickly. After just a few hours, she seemed to understand the very complex rules as well as Tom and himself. She had to already have known how to play, yet what was the possible incentive of lying? The pizza claim was also doubtful. How could a cheerleading captain really eat a whole pizza? Then again, she was skipping practice to hang out with them…
Tom brought out some 2 liter sodas for them to drink, and Michelle greedily guzzled hers directly from the bottle. Afterwards, she let out a little burp, and then blushed.
Michelle didn’t even bother using a paper plate. She simply dragged her pizza box over to where she was sitting and ate the pizza directly out of it. Before she ate, she pulled open as many of the little packets of red pepper and parmesan cheese as she could find and doused her pizza. She tore open one of the little packets a bit clumsily and cheese flew everywhere, creating a huge mess. Some landed on the carpet, and some landed on her clothes, and a few little crumbs landed on her chest and slightly exposed cleavage. She quickly grabbed a napkin and tried to clean everything up, blushing yet again.
Tom noticed Alan looking at this spectacle with what appeared to be a mix of curiosity and revolution on his face. Tom was simply amused.
Michelle began to chow down on her pieces of pizza in earnest. She took large bites, chewed noisily, and failed to catch dribbling grease from the slice more than a couple of times. She was cramming them down as she was starved, and as Tom gazed at her impossibly thin waistline, he guessed that she might as well have been.
“Hey Tom?” Michelle asked, shaking him out of his staring.
“Uh, yeah?” Tom replied.
“Are you going to eat your crusts?”
Chapter Six: The Transformation
When Michelle excused herself to go to the bathroom, Tom and Alan had a chance to talk amongst themselves for the first time in hours.
“Well, what do you think? Isn’t this the best day of your life?” Tom exclaimed excitedly.
“Well, yeah…” Alan said reluctantly.
“Well yeah, nothing! I thought she was totally out of your league, but every thing we do impresses her. She’s really the best of both words in the flesh.”
“Yeah,” Alan agreed, again with a tone of reluctance in his voice. “I never really expected this, you know…that she’d be such a cool…buddy.”
“What’s going on, Alan? Buddy? Buddy? This is Michelle you’re talking about. Are you blind?” Tom asked incredulously.
“Well she is hot. But I don’t know – there’s just something wrong. I mean, how did she pick up chess and D & D that fast? And some of her mannerisms are so…not cheerleader. There’s just a really weird vibe going on for me, to be honest.” Alan said.
Tom debated if explaining the wish he had made would offer clarification for his friend, or if it would just cause him to think Tom was nuts. Before he reached a decision, Michelle walked back in the room.
Tom immediately noticed something different about her – but he couldn’t quite place it. After a few moments of impolite starting, he realized her hair had changed. The popular styling was gone and it was just sort of naturally hanging. It definitely went with the ultra-casual behaviors she had been exhibiting all evening.
As the three resumed the game, other changes started become obvious as well. Michelle’s stomach, which was almost unnaturally flat at the start of the meal, had a definite curve to it now. Tom thought that this might be because of the amount of pizza she had stuffed down her maw, but as he studied her more intently, he began to notice other changes.
Her arms had grown a bit. They were no longer twigs, but getting a bit bigger and huskier. They led up to a pair of slightly rounder and broader shoulders. Tom eyed her up and down and she looked as if she had put on 15 pounds since this afternoon.
“Was this plumpers pizza?” He thought to himself. That just couldn’t be – could it?
Michelle, still intently consuming her pizza, seemed totally oblivious to Tom’s staring, so he continued. She stuffed another piece of pizza into her mouth, and Tom could actually see her chest expand. Her breasts strained against her top and revealed a bit more cleavage. She took another bite, and Tom swore he could see her thighs broadening and her hips swelling in girth. He could tell her legs were becoming thick and juicy. Her tummy was starting to peek out from under her tight-fitting shirt. It’s swollen, round shape indicated a blossoming potbelly.
“Will you excuse me?” Michelle started Tom yet again. “I should go take my contacts out, my eyes are starting to hurt.” She pulled herself up from her pizza feast and walked to the bathroom. Tom noticed her larger derriere and the fact that her walk now had a slight waddle to it.
“I didn’t know she had contacts,” Alan said. Both he and Tom always wore glasses – and when Michelle exited the bathroom, so did she. Big, thick ones that put both Alan’s and Tom’s lenses to shame. And was it the dim light – or was her skin paler? It was as if the artificial tan had melted away and her natural, ultra-pale and creamy complexion was taking over.
Tom noticed Shelly’s overall frame seemed to have expanded as well. She now had big shoulders and a broad back. Her breasts were now tantalizingly large and luscious, and even her face was chubby. She had puffy, apple cheeks which created cute dimples when she smiled, and a slightly double chin when she yawned.
“Ok, where were we? Was my dwarf fighter going to attack?” Neither Tom nor Alan responded. Michelle’s voice had changed, too! It was now more nasal, and a bit more high pitched and squeaky.
“We were going to rescue the princess from the dungeon, actually,” Tom finally replied.
“Well I hope she’s ready for an amateur if she’s anything like sleeping beauty. I’ve never been kissed,” Michelle squealed.
“Michelle, you’ve never been kissed?” Alan asked with disbelief.
“Michelle, Michelle, I hate that name. Sounds so girly and lame. Call me Shelly.”
“Shelly? Shelly?” Alan repeated with disdain.
“Yeah, I like that much better. And to answer your question, yes I’ve never been kissed, Alan.” Michelle said, her eyes locking onto his.
“I, well, me, me neither…” Alan stammered.
“Well, maybe you could help remedy that, Alan…” And she leaned in towards him, puckering her lips like a 6th grader kissing on a dare. Alan stared at what his lovely Michelle had become. He was horrified.
“Tom, I need to talk to you outside right now!” And with that, he ran out of the apartment and left Shelly kissing the air.
Chapter Seven: Reevaluation
After telling Shelly to sit tight for a moment, Tom reluctantly followed Alan outside. He found his friend bleary-eyed and close to tears.
“What, what the hell is going on,” he wailed. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Tom? Tell me I’m not going crazy.”
“Alan, I should have told you earlier. This is my fault entirely.” Tom admitted.
“Your fault? What could have done?” Alan asked incredulously.
“I…wished for it to happen,” Tom stated, realizing how silly it sounded.
“You wished for my dream girl to be reduced to…to…” Alan stammered. “You wished for my dream girl to be ruined like this right in front of me? Is this some kind of payback for your hypothetical yesterday or something?”
“No! It’s not like that. I made the wish before that talk with you. I wished for her to become the kind of girl who would fall for you,” Tom replied defensively.
“That’s for the insult, Tom. You think that,” Alan snarled out the last word as he pointed to the apartment, “is the only kind of girl who’d ever fall for a geek like me?”
“No, Alan, listen. I just wished that she’d be the kind of girl that would fall for you. I never thought she’d change in that way. This is all happening out of my control.” Tom explained.
“And what do you mean you ‘wished’ this? How would that do anything, Tom?” Alan asked accusingly.
“It’s hard to explain, Alan. Let’s just say there are many things you don’t understand.” Tom said indelicately.
“What don’t I understand?” Alan asked.
“For starters, what’s wrong with Michelle, err…Shelly? You were just saying a while ago what a cool buddy she was.” Tom countered.
“That’s my whole point, Tom! She’s like some girl we’d meet at a Star Trek convention now.” Alan said with disgust.
“What’s wrong with that?” Tom asked sheepishly.
“What’s wrong with that? Michelle was the cheerleading captain. Just think of what people would say if a guy like me was walking around with someone like her. Now she’s ruined.” Alan lamented.
“So that’s what this is all about, huh? What other people think and say about us? Let it go, Alan. They don’t matter.”
“It matters! It matters!” Alan insisted. “Haven’t you noticed how unpopular we are? Besides, Michelle was beautiful. Why’d that have to change? Why can’t you wish her back to the way she was?” Alan demanded.
“Because you were right last night, Alan, although I hate to admit it. A cheerleader isn’t going to just become a dork for no reason. Everything in life is about incentives, real or imagined. There’s just no incentive for Michelle, as she was, to change only her habits but not her appearance. And besides, who says that Michelle was more beautiful than Shelly?”
“I do, and so would every other sane person in the galaxy.” Alan retorted.
“There you go again with the other people’s opinions thing. Do you really know what you find beautiful in a woman, Alan? Have you really thought about where your opinions come from? Have you considered if you really do feel this way or if you’re just reflecting the views of everyone else?”
“So what if I am, that doesn’t make the feelings less real.” Alan replied defensively.
“No, it doesn’t, but that’s how we’re treated, Alan. We’re looked down upon because of commonly held prejudices. Do people learn to play chess before they criticize us ‘eggheads’ for playing? Do they learn how to build a chemistry set before they worship at the foot of the quarterback? Of course not. We are mocked and teased for no reason other than our interests and our looks are unfashionable. Just like Shelly is now. Would you really want to treat her the way other people have treated us?” Tom spoke with a sense of urgency. He felt as though he had finally understood this entire evening’s meaning.
“That’s really nice of you Tom, but come on. Haven’t you ever dreamed of becoming a millionaire and getting a trophy wife? Haven’t you ever wanted to become something other than a reject?” Alan pleaded desperately.
“No, I don’t. I want someone who has a lot in common with me. I want a woman that can understand me, Tom. Some skinny gold digger who’s only attracted to me for my money couldn’t ever have a meaningful relationship with me. And besides I’m happy with myself. Don’t you think…” But Tom was cut off.
“No, I don’t think, that, whatever it is you’re about to say. I can’t accept what you’ve done to Michelle. Change her back, it isn’t right.”
“Why? She’d just go back to ignoring you.” Tom said.
“I don’t want to debate us anymore, Tom, this is about her. You don’t think she wants to be like this, would you?” Alan asked.
“Well, I don’t know…” Tom said. “To be honest I hadn’t really thought of it from that angle. Well, why not? Would you really want to just turn into a pro football player if you could?” Tom replied.
“Yes! Yes I would.” Alan started crying. “You’re right Tom, you’re right about everything. I do hate myself…”
“Alan, I’m sorry…I wish you were a football player.” Tom said before he could stop himself.
“What did you just say, Tom?” Alan asked in awe. Tom felt he might as well commit to it now.
“I said I wish you were a football player. No, the best football player this school has ever seen!” Tom said.
“Woah…I should get going to football practice then!” And with that, he ran off in direction of the school’s football field. As Tom looked at him disappearing into the distance, he suddenly had a revelation: he was possibly seeing his best friend disappear forever.
Chapter Eight: Discovery
Tom initially tried to chase Alan down, to get him back, perhaps even to apologize. He felt bad about what he’d done, and he didn’t want to lose his friend. Unfortunately, Tom’s asthma caught up to him, and he was reduced to simply holding his sides and wheezing, with his friend far outdistancing him.
When Tom finally got back to his apartment, he was surprised to see Shelly on his computer.
“Tom, I hope you don’t mind. You and Alan were talking so loudly outside, I couldn’t help but hear you. I didn’t understand most of what you said – but it sounded serious. I had to try to figure out what’s really going on.”
“And…?” Tom asked.
“Well, again, I hope you don’t consider this an invasion of your privacy, but I looked through your browsing, history, and I think I get what was going on. This story, The Cheerleader, this describes what happened, right? A cheerleader changes into…someone like me?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Tom said reluctantly, feeling embarrassed and guilty. “I’m sorry.”
“I really used to be a cheerleader?” Shelly asked with a tone of doubt in her voice.
“Yes, of course. You’re captain of the squad,” Tom said.
“How long ago was this?” Shelly asked to Tom’s amazement. Did she really not remember?
“This afternoon,” Tom said. “All of these changes have happened over just a few hours.”
“Tom, how is that possible? How could I have put on 80 pounds in a few hours? And I don’t know the first thing about cheerleading. I have Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings posters decorating my walls. I’m not a cheerleader…”
“I don’t know what to say, Shelly. I’m sorry I wished for it. I feel terrible,” Tom lamented.
“Alan must have liked the old me, and now he’s repulsed by me…as would any guy, I guess,” Shelly said. “Why do you even read these stories, Tom? Do you just like the idea of some smug hot chick getting her comeuppance?”
“To be honest, Shelly, I do think there’s quite a lot of that among people that read these stories. But for me, I don’t really think of a transformation as a negative, as a punishment.” Tom explained.
“What else could they be?” Shelley asked.
“Well, I think Alan just had bad taste. Or more specifically, he has misplaced priorities. He cares more about impressing other people than being comfortable with himself.”
“So what, Tom? So what?” Shelly squealed.
Tom wasn’t quite sure how to explain why he read those stories. For a few moments he simply gazed at Shelly.
“Didn’t you read anything else, Shelly? Did you read ‘Feel Beautiful as You Are?’ or ‘The Beauty of a Positive Self Image?” He gave her a few minutes to read the self-esteem articles, hoping the message would sink in as fast as everything else had changed.
“Those are very nice,” Shelly said at last.
“I could tell you that I actually think you’re beautiful right now, Shelly. I could tell you that in attempting to get Alan his perfect girlfriend, I’ve created my own instead. But that doesn’t matter, not really. You can’t just rely on me to understand who you are or are or create a sense of self worth. It has to come from within.”
“I know, Tom,” Shelly whispered.
“And, I want to give you the opportunity to change back. I think I inadvertently changed Alan. I can change you too. You could go get Alan to love you again – I’m sure he’s Michelle’s type now. You could get just about any guy to love you as Michelle.”
“But not you,” Shelly said in a low voice.
“Well, I think you’re perfect just as you are now, but it’s your choice. It was wrong of me to alter your whole life just because I wanted to help a friend, it’s only fair that I give you the chance to change it back now.”
Shelly scooted her plump body a little closer to Tom. “That’s so sweet. It means the world to me that you’d give me the choice.” Shelly surprised Tom by wrapping her husky arms around his thin frame and giving it a mighty squeeze.
For a few moments, the two simply held each other, taking in the emotions of the evening. Finally, Shelly leaned into Tom’s ear and whispered: “I want to keep playing nerdy games. I want to go out with you and for everyone to think we’re such a nerdy couple. I want to eat dessert when I go to a restaurant. I want – no, I wish – for things to be just like this.”
With that, Shelly leaned into Tom and the two kissed. Tom ran his hands down Shelly’s chubby cheeks and then down her love-handled waist. Tom tried to hold and appreciate her every delicious curve. He felt her arms hug him so tight and her heavy body pin him against the wall so hard that he could barely breathe. Her tongue eagerly delved into his mouth, flailing about with both inexperience and eagerness.
When the two finally broke the kiss, they were both gasping and giggling eagerly. After a long silence, Shelly finally said “Besides, you can’t really wish me back.”
“Why couldn’t I, I wished for Alan…” Shelly cut him off.
“Well, you have no way knowing if that wish really worked,” Shelly countered.
“True,” Tom conceded. Apparently his logic and way of debating had impacted Shelly as well.
“But I was referring to law 48, of course,” Shelly said.
“Law 48?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, ‘While it is possible under certain rare circumstances to reverse WG, it is not possible to do so before the woman has grown to at least 180 pounds in size, nor is it possible to get her below this point,’ from the rules of weight gain. You didn’t remember that one?” Shelly asked.
“No, I guess not,” Tom replied sheepishly.
“Honestly, Tom, if your entire story of what happened to me rests on law 9 of that list, I’d really recommend that you keep the rest of them in mind.”
“Ok, will do…” Tom said, and leaned in to kiss Shelly again.
THE END
Come one come all, to the magical candy tour. Indulge your cravings. Feed your desires. Consequences? Who wants to worry about those? Sweet Tooth is an illustrated furry/anthro story about a small group touring a candy factory, who find the place is more than it seems. The magic can range from concepts as clean and simple as "eat candy, get fat" to multi-topic changes, involving ethical dilemmas and game theory. Transformations involve both males and females and include weight gain, gender change, age progression, species change, macro, inflation, and more! You can check out a NSFW, gender change themed excerpt of this story, called Deiser, via PDF.
Day One:
The light of the dawn pierced my thin drapes like daggers, rousing me from my restless slumber. I could smell cinnamon wafting down the hall; the intoxicating aroma made my mouth water.
Gingerly, I pulled myself out of my narrow bed. I felt light headed and my skin crawled, but I knew that I could not hide away from the day by burying my head under the covers. The thought wasn’t tempting in the least - I’d just worry away in there.
I changed out of my nearly translucent white nightgown into a billowy, silk pastel colored dress that floated over my bony, slender frame. Today was the day and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
With a determined, measured sense of calm, I walked downstairs to face my aunt and uncle. They had raised me ever since my parents had been killed in the Monster War during my childhood.
My uncle couldn’t bear to look at me directly. He simply stared down at his feet from his chair, as if avoiding the sight of me would cause me to dematerialize. I was greeted by my aunt bearing my favorite treat, cinnamon muffins. Despite the delicious smell, I worried that my nervous stomach couldn’t bear a single one, and I politely refused.
“It is your favorite, I insist,” my aunt said in her characteristically warbled voice. I bowed to her wishes and took a seat at the table. I took a delicate utensil and judiciously carved off a single slice from the smallest muffin in the bunch, making sure to eat it with the proper side of the tined utensil facing up.
While my aunt and uncle consumed the rest of my breakfast, they engaged in idle small talk. The weather was mentioned on more than one occasion. The new curtains on the neighbor's house were held in disdain. And several other topics of no great importance were discussed at length, all while I sighed and nervously chewed on my lower lip.
Was this done to keep their mind off of what was to happen to me today? Or was it a futile effort to help distract me from it? I didn’t know, and I did not care. All that mattered to me was that when I was sentenced, nobody spoke up. No friends, no family. Certainly not them - not my aunt and uncle. They sat in silence, as though speaking up might risk their own hides. Which it could have - I’ll readily concede that.
Eventually, the ornately carved wooden wall clock struck the time. A small blue bird emerged from it, crowing out the hour of my demise. I didn’t try to fight or delay it. I simply hung my head low and walked to the door, taking small, graceful steps. My aunt, uncle and I grimly walked on the cobblestone path to the center of the village, where what appeared to be the entire population was awaiting in a large circle. I stepped into the center of it, my head bowed deeply and my honey blonde tresses partially obscuring my face.
“Selena, daughter of Roland. For your crime of disrespect to an Elder, you have been sentenced to suffer Ruination,” the judge called out in a taciturn, resolute voice.
In our society, the most important quality a woman can possess is her beauty. My punishment was to have that beauty taken from me, in a ritual called ‘the Ruining.’ It was a relatively rare punishment. I had never seen it performed, so I knew not what to expect. I did know there was a homeless woman who lived at the edge of town who had experienced it when I was just a baby. She had wrapped herself in rags and never spoke to anyone after it happened, and ate by scavenging for food from garbage. As children, we called her “The Hag,” and she had a prominent role in all the scary stories children told each other.
Two strong men wearing black hoods clapped chains to my wrists and stretched the chains towards large stone pillars at the edges of the circle, effectively tying me to the center. My shoulders ached as my arms were yanked nearly out of their sockets.
Dead ahead of me was the judge - the tallest man in the village. Impossibly tall and thin, with a long, protruding nose, he was a spectral figure. The judge pulled a curved, wicked looking ceremonial dagger from his ropes and deliberately made a flick on my forehead.
“Selena,” the judge began again. “You have come to this gathering in the spirit of humility and obedience. I take this into consideration in my sentence,” he said, as he produced a glowing green vial from his pocket. The revealing of this key item in the ritual elicited a wave of murmurs from the surrounding villagers. Normally stored in a secured vault, the vial was only to be brought out on days like today. “Three drops,” he said in what I assumed was an ominous tone. He uncorked the vial, instantly unleashing an overwhelming odor. My eyes stung and I could hear several onlookers start to wretch.
He held the vial above my forehead and judiciously allowed three drops to fall directly onto the gash he had cut into me. The drops stung terribly, and I howled with pain. What surprised me more than anything was the sound of my cries of anguish. They were deeper, louder, and far more animalistic than I had come to expect from my own voice.
I could hear the skin around my forehead start to sizzle and blister, and I could feel the pain coursing throughout my body, but I was aware of little else. The villagers, meanwhile, were going wild. They were hooting and gasping and screaming. One young girl even fainted.
“What’s happening to me?” I finally asked the crowd in desperation as my body began to tingle. The judge had turned his back and was walking away from me. The two men who had chained me in place were removing the chains, and as soon as I was free I ran as fast as my legs could carry me to the river at the edge of town.
The river was a rushing, churning beast – as it always was this time of year. Too fast for children to play in, it was obviously not an ideal spot to find a reflection. But it did the job. As I stared into it, I could see my reflection staring back at me in choppy, short bursts.
What I saw caused me to let out another howl, this one far mournful than the last. The raw, sizzling, bleeding wound on my forehead was not the end of my ‘Ruination,’ not by a long shot. My brows were heavier, my eyes darker with larger pupils, my skin a faint shade of green and very tough looking. My teeth were so large they were poking out of my lips, and they were quite sharp. My nostrils were larger, my jaw longer - everything was different. As I looked down, I saw that my frame overall was wider - my billowy dress was fit more snugly against a larger and fatter body. My boyish breasts had filled out into heavy teardrops, and my formerly flat tummy bulged against my silk.
“Ogre blood,” my aunt explained. “That’s what gave you.” She was the only one who had followed me to the river. The rest of the villagers had fled at the fight of me.
“You knew this was to be my fate the entire time,” I snarled at her “and you said nothing at the trial? Nothing this morning when I was sentenced?”
“It was not my place,” she said defensively. “It is your job to live what you’ve done and who you are.”
“Who I am?” I asked incredulously.
“That monster you see in the river,” my aunt began, “that is who you shall be, for the rest of your natural life.”
With an angry roar, I punched the spot of the river containing my reflection. Water sprayed everywhere, but after a few moments, the current settled again and the image of me as a monster returned. All I was now was a reflection of the monsters who had invaded our homeland.
I started crying, but when my tears hit the river, they had as much efficacy upon my image as my fists. Everything about my future lay in ruins. Any chance I had for love was forever destroyed. Any chance of even friendships was dead. People would stare at me in horror and flee before me.
After what seemed like hours, I rose. My aunt was still there, bearing a white robe. I wrapped myself in it and followed her back to her house, which was empty.
Along with way, we passed a small gathering of townsfolk. It was nothing out of the ordinary – a thief was getting his hand cut off. As soon as they saw me approaching, though, the gatherers screamed and ran. The thief, who had managed to stay conscious while his right hand was amputated, fainted at the sight of me.
When I arrived, I ran to my room and fell on my bed, hearing a horrifying creaking sound as I landed upon it. It didn’t take long for me to cry myself to sleep.
Day Two:
Once again, the sharp rays of dawn roused me from sleep. Once again, I could smell cinnamon in the air. As I rolled out of bed, I saw my hand - my perfectly normal looking hand. I looked down at my body and it was as it always had been. I pulled on my dress and ran to my aunt and uncle, laughing with joy.
Both my aunt and uncle gazed upon me with concern etched into their faces.
“Glad you’re taking it well,” my aunt said diplomatically.
“Taking what well? I’m all better,” I shouted with glee. “I can’t believe it. It’s over. It’s like it never happened.”
“Like what never happened?” My aunt asked, looking more frightened by the minute.
“My Ruination. Look! I’m all better now,” I said, trying to get them to understand.
“Of course it’s like it didn’t happen, it’s happening today. In just a short time,” my aunt said.
“No, I did it yesterday,” I said in a sing song voice. “And I’ve been healed!”
“You must have been having a dream about it,” my aunt said softly. “It is today.”
“No...” I said, my voice trailing off. “No, it can’t be. It was so vivid!”
“That’s what to expect when your mind is obsessed with something,” came the dismissive reply. “Now, I made you some cinnamon muffins for breakfast. Your favorite - eat up.”
I was shaking with fear and anger now. I knew it wasn’t a dream. A dream fades - this was as clear as any memory in my head.
“I already did it,” I repeated frantically. “It happened yesterday. I just know it!”
My aunt and uncle shook their heads and I screamed. Unlike yesterday, my screams were that of an angry girl, not the full throated shouts of a beast. I kicked and thrashed against the walls and threw the muffins on the floor.
“It’s time,” my aunt said solemnly after the bird emerged from out clock on the wall.
“Good,” I said. “We will go out there and they’ll remember what happened.” I strode out the front door defiantly, but when I reached the town center, I saw the same villagers awaiting me in the same circle.
“No, no, no!” I screamed. “I did this yesterday!”
“Bind her,” the judge instructed. The two men wearing black hoods bound me in chains again.
“Selena, daughter of Roland. For your crime of disrespect to an Elder, you have been sentenced to suffer Ruination,” he said.
“No,” I cried out. “I already did it! I’ve already suffered.” He did not reply, and I shook my chains desperately, trying to get free.
The judge drew his dagger and flicked my forehead. I moved my head as he did so, causing the blade to slide into my eyebrow. I could see a few errant hairs on the edge when he pulled the dagger away.
“Selena, you have come in the spirit of rebellion and defiance. You have clearly refused to learn your lesson of humility in advance. Therefore I feel it is my duty to ensure you learn it through your punishment. Four drops,” he said as he produced the vial of green Ogre blood.
“No!” I screamed, tears running down my cheeks. Now that I knew the horror to come, it was that much more terrible. Last time, though, I had been sentenced to only three drops, not four. This time, the changes would go even farther.
The four drops came as the audience gasped. The pain was intense, but this time I just gritted my teeth rather than yell. The sizzling sound was louder, like the sound of meat against an open flame.
When the chains were undone, once again I ran for the river. This time, though, I dove in and kept swimming until I reached the opposite side of the embankment. It was something I’d never done before - the river was strong enough that it had drowned children in the past - but I did it without any great exertion. Apparently, underneath the new flab of my body was a coating of musculature.
When I pulled myself out of the water, I saw my aunt in the distance on the opposite side of the river. She had followed me, just as she did the day before. But she did not follow me across the river. She didn’t remember, obviously, but I did.
Yesterday, I had been depressed beyond words. Today I was angry.
What was the difference between being morose and being furious? Anger helps you devise a plan. And for the first time in a day and a half, I finally had one.
I knew that on this side of the river there was a ramshackle tent, and inside lived a woman who was always wrapped in rags. I knew that one person might understand me: the one woman I knew of who had experienced Ruination. I was going to see The Hag. She was the one person I had feared more than anything as a child, yet as I approached, I felt only hope that she might help me.
When I made my way over to the tent, I saw her intently watching the bank of the river. With a swift motion, she reached her arm in as I approached, snagging a wriggling fish in her paws. A sickening crunch ensued when she brought it to her jaws and started noshing on it. In spite of myself, my pouchy stomach growled.
“I figured you’d come,” she said through a mouthful of raw fish, without looking up at me. Her voice was deep and throaty, but lacked the scratchy, cackling quality I’d always imagined as a child.
“What is your name?” I asked her, neglecting to tell her that her prediction had been wrong the day before.
“The monster by the lake? The crazy homeless woman? The witch? I don’t know, what do you call me these days?” she replied.
“The Hag,” I answered, feeling ashamed.
“Then that is my name,” she replied, nibbling a little on the fish’s bones.
“What is your real name,” I said, unwilling to refer to her by a childhood taunt.
“What does it matter? I’m not that person anymore. I’m just a hag now,” she said. “I don’t need anybody to pretend otherwise.” As my eyes lazily drifted, I could see my reflection in the choppy water. I was even more grotesque than yesterday. My skin was a slightly darker, more leathery shade of green. My bones seemed to have expanded a bit more, and every feature of my face was more pinched and protruding than it had been. My clothing was stretched to the limit, clinging to my bloated body.
“I have so many questions,” I began, feeling flummoxed as I sat down on the muddy embankment. Sitting caused my enlarged breasts and belly to strain against the garment even more, and I heard the faint sound of wet fabric tearing.
“Well, ask away,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“How many drops did they give you?” I asked. I couldn’t tell what she looked like under the rags that were swaddled all over her body.
“Does it matter?” she asked. “It could have been one, or a hundred. I would still be a monster in their eyes.”
I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I supposed she was right.
“How many days did you have to go through it?” I asked, finally arriving at what I had come to ask.
“Every day, for the rest of our lives,” she said. “This transformation is permanent.”
“Not that,” I said. “I meant, what were you doing yesterday? Were there townspeople at the circle?”
“I was at the village yesterday. There was no gathering,” she said matter of factly.
“I’m not saying it was yesterday. I’m saying I’ve lived today twice,” I tried to explain. “When I awoke I was human again, and had to go through it all another time. I can’t imagine having to keep enduring this humiliation, this torture, over and over again...”
“I’m sure that won’t last forever,” she demurred.
“You’re sure? So it happened to you, too?” I asked excitedly.
“My life is not yours. Do not look to me for answers,” she replied. “All I can say is to find a way through this.”
I clenched my fist in anger, accidentally causing my sharper nails to draw blood from my palm in the process. “I’ll never accept it,” I said defiantly, and dove back into the water. When I crawled onto the opposite bank, I found a small stone and took it with me. It was time for a test.
Day Three:
As the rays of the sun woke me, I fished my hand furiously under my pillow. The stone from the river was gone, and my suspicions were confirmed – I was indeed living the same day again and again.
I was aware, though, that my test was useless to anybody but me. The Hag would not remember our conversation, if the pattern held up. And I was not about to allow the pattern to continue. I slipped on my dress and bounded downstairs. I ran right past my aunt and her bowl of cinnamon muffins, charging straight out the door with a clear purpose in mind.
I headed straight for the home of Justice Taney. I knew there were guards crawling about and would spot me in the process, but I only needed a few moments of his time.
I didn’t have the stone beneath my pillow, but that wasn’t the only stone in town. I grabbed the first large sized one I found on the path to his house and smashed his window with it. As I stepped inside, I tore the bottom of my dress on some of the remaining shards of glass still in the frame.
The judge was taciturnly eating a bowl of oatmeal alone at his table when he spotted me climbing my way into his home.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” he demanded. “I ought to call for the guards.”
“I’m sure they’re already coming,” I said, “but I just need a moment. I’m sorry I disrespected you, I am. You have the power to let this go,” I said. “Please, pardon me.”
“Why should I do that?” he asked, turning away from me to his oatmeal.
“I’ll do anything,” I begged. “Please. I’ll work for you, steal for you...”
“Who do you think I am?” he said, his voice rising slightly.
“I’ll give you what you wanted,” I finally relented, hearing footsteps approach from outside and feeling desperate. I was willing to sacrifice anything to break the pattern and avoid Ruination a third time. With a trembling hand, I started to pull back the straps of my dress. I had never before allowed a man to see me naked. It pained me to have it be him, but I had no choice.
Just as my small breasts were about to be exposed, I heard a knock at the door, followed by shouting.
“Justice Taney, we believe Selena may have tried to enter your premises. May we enter and conduct a search?” the voice barked out. I stared back at in with quivering lips, far less afraid of a lecherous old man than of the hand of the law.
“I have her here,” he said calmly, and my heart started to sink. “There is no reason to enter. I’ll take custody of her and take her to the ceremony,” he finished, and my eyes lit up.
“Now,” he began, after the footsteps trotted away. “Where were we?”
He did not touch me, but he stared intently at me after I disrobed. I thought his eyes might leap from his sockets. After an awkward, humiliating eternity, he finally spoke.
“Get your clothes back on, they are expecting us soon,” I did as he asked, and followed him from his house to the center of town, where everyone, including my aunt, were awaiting our arrival.
The two men in black hoods did not immediately chain me up, as if awaiting instruction from the judge.
“Selena, daughter of Roland, you are guilty of the crime of disrespecting an Elder. In addition, this morning, you trespassed into my home, and attempted to beg clemency. While I was patiently explaining to you that this was impossible, you threw yourself at me, attempting to use sin to bargain yourself out of your rightful punishment. As such, I see fit to increase it. Six drops,” he said, as the two men chained my arms in place.
I said nothing. I felt only waves of futility and shame wash over me as the chains forced my arms apart.
When the judge approached me, dagger in hand, he winked at me. The corners of my mouth curled, but again I said nothing. I could see my aunt crying out of the corner of my eye.
Each drop landed with a wave of pain, and the sound of my skin sizzling grew to a frothy roar. I tried to grit my teeth, but this became increasingly difficult as they grew inside my mouth. I ended up biting the inside of my cheeks several times, and I started spitting blood.
My body grew along with my teeth, and I heard the horrifying sound of the fabric being rent asunder by my expanding girth. With my increasingly beefy arms pulled towards my sides by the chains, I couldn’t even try to cover myself. Instead, my state of near nakedness was exposed to the entire crowd. I felt the shame burn all over again. The only difference was this time was worse - more people, and something far more hideous to look at.
When I was finally released, I took the white robe from my aunt. I noticed it covered less of me than it had before; today’s transformation left me far wider and rounder. My entire body shape had changed. I was no longer a lithe rail, now I was a fat blob, whose body shook and jiggled with every movement. I tried my best to walk home, but my bulky body moved in hulky steps. The best I could manage was shambling ahead, rather than my usual graceful method of movement. My aunt did not follow, and I fully expected my uncle would not be home. Nobody would dare be near me now.
Up ahead, I saw a throng of young boys chasing a smaller boy, complaining that his hair was too long. When they caught up to him, they started beating him. They dispersed when I approached, shrieking in horror as I made my way past.
The little boy with the long hair was the only one that did not flee or scream. He merely gazed up at me with penetratingly blue eyes, his lips quivering. I turned away from his gaze after a few agonizing moments, my eyes landing on a window that reflected my hideous face, with very heavy brows and every trace of femininity erased from my formerly delicate cheekbones. I tried to walk faster and avert my gaze, but everywhere I looked there seemed to be a window.
I wanted nothing but to forget this terrible day ever happened. I wanted to smash my ugly face against the glass windows that reflected my fearsome and gruesome visage. I resisted and made my way home without any further incident.
As I entered the door, I noticed I had to bow my head slightly, indicating I had grown taller in addition to being larger. My newly enlarged nostrils twitched involuntarily, as I picked up on the scent of food like a hungry animal. Of course - the muffins.
I was determined not to let myself become a savage, so I resisted the temptation to stuff them into my face as soon as I found the bowl of muffins. I tried took a seat in one of the chairs by the table, but as I eased myself into it I heard it squeak and bend with stress. Thinking I might break it, I sat cross legged on the floor. I tried to use the little knife to cut a slice, but the blade was too tiny to effectively wield with my large, stubby fingers. I resorted to using a fork, but with my first bite I heard a sickening crunch. Soon I discovered my monstrous teeth had crushed the poor utensil into a twisted, useless shape.
I finally just shoved the muffin into my mouth, but with each bite I could see a few crumbs fly through the air. I realized what I must look like: sitting on the floor, eating food out of a bowl, making mess.
Feeling horrified at myself, I made my way up the stairs in loud, thunderous stomps that shook the banister. I flopped on my bed, only to have it give way from under me. It - and I - landed on the floor with a dull thud. I tried to pull the sheets over my head, but the sharp ends of my fingers caught on the fabric, tearing it slightly. Feeling overcome with frustration, I let out a roar. The window was open, and in response to my frightening noise I heard the sound of a children screaming come through it.
I banged my massive forehead against the wall, denting and cracking it. I repeated the motion until I lost consciousness.
Day Four:
I awoke with a singular purpose in my mind. Today would involve no denials, no pleading, and no bargaining. Today I was going to make a run for it.
I changed into my dress and slipped as quietly as I could out the back window, effectively bypassing my aunt and uncle and their food completely. I headed for the stables, trying my best to move silently.
My family didn’t own any horses, but that this point I wasn’t going to allow the label of “horse thief” to scare me away from a chance for freedom. I saddled and climbed the one horse I’d had experience with - Big Brown. As I bolted out of the stables, though, I could hear voices shouting. I knew I’d been seen. I headed to the woods on the north edge of the village, already hearing the gallop of other horses behind me. The chase was on.
Children were warned to stay away from the northern woods, but it was the only terrain adjoining the town with any cover. I remember how frightened I once was just stepping my toe inside as a little girl, before I fled home in terror. Now I was galloping in at full speed, far more afraid of what lay behind me than ahead.
I ducked low to avoid catching an errant branch in the face, and tried to kick my spurs as hard as my legs would let me. This level of force turned out to be a good deal more than I had in the past, for my horse responded with frightened whinnying and a markedly increased pace.
The horses of the village were not well trained for racing - they mainly existed as plow horses and beasts of burden for travelling merchants. It wasn’t long before mine tired, and I disembarked.
At the edge of the woods stood the reason why children had been forbidden to enter the woods - the great monster caves. Etched into hills and the sides of a sloping mountain, they were the home of our enemy. Nobody had seen one since the end of the last war, so it was assumed that they had abandoned the place. But the dark, foreboding structures were still frightening enough to scare off all but the bravest. Nobody I knew had ever dared venture inside.
I heard my pursuers closing in, and without another thought I made for the nearest cave. It was dark, and as I ran in blindly, I tripped and fell face first. I landed on something soft and furry.
A man with a torch had seen me run into the cave and as he followed me in, I got a glimpse of what the cave contained within.
The rock on the walls had been ornately carved with exquisite attention to detail, and painted to illustrate some grand battle scene. Through the flickering torch, I saw bits a town burning, with a large, rotund Ogre standing at the edge, fist raised high. I also noticed were that I had fallen on a rug made from the fur of some animal, and near it were patchwork looking chairs made from sticks and animal bones. Next to them were high tables and bowls the size of wagon wheels.
“Come on, Selena, you’ve had your fun,” he man said as he pulled me by the collar. I struggled against his grip, but it was no use. In desperation, I bit down on his hand and then jerked my elbow into his face. He cried out and fell backwards, and I used my free moment to grasp one of the chairs. I smashed it against his face as he turned around, and he fell backwards onto the stone wall.
The torch he was holding lazily rolled onto the floor, causing the rug to catch fire. Two more men entered the mouth of the cave, these carrying swords. I frantically looked around for a weapon of my own, and found an immensely massive halberd adoring the wall. I removed it from the tongs on which it lay, but the weight of the instrument was so ponderous that it immediately fell from my hands. I frantically tried to lift it as the two men approached. They laughed at my futile efforts, and sheathed their swords. One hoisted me over his shoulders and carried me out of the cave, kicking and screaming.
As I leaned over, I could almost reach the man’s scabbard. I pushed as hard as I could with my legs succeeded in gaining a couple of more crucial inches. With a single, smooth motion, I pulled the sword from the sheath and hit the man walking alongside us.
His head made a jerky motion and he fell backwards, landing on the fur carpet with a soft thud. The man carrying me threw me forwards, but I managed to land on my feet, and still carrying his blade. I swung wildly, hitting his head with the flat of the blade, and causing him to collapse.
As I ran out of the cave, I saw only four brown horses and believed for a brief moment that I had defeated my pursuers. Just then, a large, black stallion burst onto the scene, carrying the Black Knight.
He was the strongest warrior in the land. Last year he cleared out a nest of what he called dishonest merchants. Earlier, he had led our forces in the Monster War, and before that, he had stopped a plot to assassinate a distant monarch and tore the conspirators limb from limb.
Of course, it wasn’t the same man. The Black Knight was simply a title given to the warrior who deserved it most. This ensured that the Black Knight could never be vanquished and he could never grow old and frail. When one Black Knight could not serve, another worthy soul would be appointed to take his place.
What poor luck that he happened to be in my village on a day like today.
I had never before laid eyes on him, but there was no question in my mind who he was. His full plate, dark armor was rife with ornate spikes and spires, and his boots were pointed, stained with dried blood.
With surprising swiftness, he dismounted his horse and headed straight in my direction. He didn’t bother swinging his weapon, only raising his mailed fist against me. When he hit me, I blacked out, and soon I was back on a horse, passing through the woods in the other direction.
“Selena, daughter of Roland,” the judge intoned after I was brought back to the town and dumped in front of him, “you have not borne your punishment with the grace of a lady. You have compounded your crime by attempting to evade punishment, stealing a horse and assaulting members of the village watch who tried to apprehend you.” I sat motionless as he spoke. “Ten drops,” he commanded, as the crowd gasped in shock. “And then you’ll be placed in a cell, so nobody else is at risk of losing their horse.”
I waited until he tried to gouge my forehead, and as he approached, I spat directly into his eye. He paused to wipe himself clean and spoke without any emotion in his voice.
“Eleven,” he said, amending my punishment. I stood defiant. The Hag was right about the number of drops - what did it matter? I’d just have to go through this again tomorrow.
He cut me, and then counted the eleven drops. The first few were agonizing, but after it got to around five, it started to hurt less. Perhaps my toughening skin was resisting the effect? Or the wound was cauterizing? I wasn’t sure. Either way, the dull roar of my skin sizzling sounded like a wave crashing on the rocks. The only sound I could hear over it was the sounds of shrieks from the villagers and the scampering of their feet. I could feel my breasts expanding, straining, and then popping out of my clothes. My widening hips caused my panties to stretch, fray, and fall to my side. I don’t know how obscene a display this was - my huge breasts and newly bulging belly obscured my line of sight. All I could see was a sea of dark green, increasingly leathery looking skin. I could feel my teeth growing, and this time I didn’t bother trying to hide them inside my mouth. They poked out from my lips prominently.
This time I was not unchained. Probably wise, as judging from bulk of my newly enlarged arms, I was likely quite strong. Instead, I was merely unlinked from the pillars, and marched to the dungeon fully bound in my metallic restraints.
That is, what passed for a dungeon in our small village. It was merely a row of dank cells on the southern edge of town. They were usually filled with drunks, vagabonds, blasphemers, curfew breakers, and the like, but today one sat empty.
A full procession of guards marched with me, but this time I offered little resistance. My next try for freedom would be tomorrow morning.
Eventually, I was unchained, then shoved unceremoniously into a cell. A dull click pronounced my locked in, and that was that.
One of the guards did stay behind, intently staring at me like some curiosity. I felt overcome with the urge to scare him away, and accomplished this by baring and gnashing my teeth in his direction.
I thought my aunt might show up, but this was too much even for her. As the night drew close on the town, I thought intently on how I would make my escape next time around. Would I hide in a house, or travel on foot? Would I take the road used by the merchants and try to reach a nearby town instead of heading for the forest? I thought of nothing but strategy as I paced my cell. When my thick, powerful legs grew tired, I grasped the bars and shook them furiously, howling as I did so.
When the sun had set, I finally did receive a visitor. The shuffling figure of The Hag crept by my cell.
“I heard about what you did this morning,” she cooed. “Very brave of you.”
“But all for naught,” I lamented, aware how deep my voice sounded and the slight scraping sound that happened whenever I opened my mouth. I shook the bars, but even as they quaked in my palms, I knew escape was pointless. “Such strength,” I said through a growl, “only available to me when I have no need of it,” I said as I flopped on my side in resignation. “I have to figure out a better plan for next time. I have to learn how to vanquish them.”
“Next time?” she said with a low chuckle. “I doubt they’ll have the horses under such scant guard next time.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” I said, knowing that tomorrow I’d be the only person aware of any of this.
“You had three guardsmen chasing you,” she said. “And the misfortune of the Black Knight coming into town this morning. You were brave, but you had no chance, no matter which way you went. I’m sure they posted one close to your home. You couldn’t have snuck out and expect to be undetected.”
“Then how to I avoid it?” I asked.
“Avoid what? It’s done with, isn’t it?” she asked.
“No, it’s not,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t understand. “Let’s just say, hypothetically, I had today to do all over again, how would I escape my Ruination?”
“Selena,” The Hag began, “I don’t think you could have. This village is extremely committed to this punishment.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why do I have to suffer?”
She shrugged in reply, causing the rags on her back to ripple. “It is their way.”
“And why Ogre blood? What point does this serve, other than to make us ugly?” I asked.
“We fought the Ogres in the war,” she said. “They have turned us into their mortal enemies.”
“It can’t be that simple,” I growled. “There must be more to it.”
“It has a role. People like to know there are monsters bigger than they are. It absolves them of guilt, you see,” The Hag mused.
“Well then, I’m just doomed,” I said, feeling frustrated. “If I can’t run away and I can’t stop it, and these people won’t be reasoned with, there is no hope.”
“There is always hope,” The Hag began, “You will find your way.”
“As you have?” I asked. A long, pregnant pause ensued.
“Yes, eventually I accepted my fate,” she intoned. “Only you know if it is time for you to do the same.”
Day Five:
I closed my eyes in the cell, and woke up in my bed, same as it always had been. This time, though, I did not bother to move. Why bother rising to my feet if escape was impossible?
After a few moments, I heard a knock on the door, indicating it was time for me to awaken. I did not respond. My aunt tried several times to get my attention, and I pretended I did not hear her. She tried to offer me her muffins, but didn’t react. Eventually, I heard the sound of guards at the front door, letting my family know I was expected. In short order, they broke down my door.
I flinched at the explosion of wood and splinters but I did not move. I heard just two words “Take her,” and then I was swaddled in a white robe and carried out of my room by men with iron grips. Soon I was marched into the town and tied in place.
“Selena, daughter of Roland...” he began.
“Get on with it,” I snapped.
“Selena, your conduct this morning has been disrespectful and uncooperative, clearly indicating a lack of understanding and respect for our ways. Five drops,” he said as he approached. I closed my eyes as he nicked my forehead and poured the green fluid onto me. My skin burned, my body grew, but I felt as though my mind was growing numb. Was it the fact that today was the first day my punishment had not been worse than the last? Or, had repeated exposure to horror reduced its effect? For whatever reason, I felt only agony, not fear or hysteria.
The crowd gasped and stared, but as I was unchained and I crumpled to the ground, they slowly dispersed. My aunt stayed until the last, but as she approached I called out “leave me,” and she withdrew.
I thought of seeking out The Hag, but what would she have to say to me that had not been said on the second day of my Ruination? And yet as I looked down at myself, I realized things were not exactly as they had been that day. That day I had bothered to dress myself, instead of being dragged from bed. I looked at the white robe covering my body and wondered if this is what the rags that covered The Hag once resembled. Was that my destiny? To abandon the village, to leave town a pariah, never to rejoin my kin? Were they even my kin now that I had monster blood in my veins?
I looked in the direction of the river. Perhaps if I simply put my own tent up next to hers, the daily torment would end. My life would go on. With this thought taking possession of my mind, I made my way to the river bank. Just as I was about to dive in, I stopped.
My life would not go on, I realized. The Hag lived as an outcast, as a pariah, day in and day out. Nothing in her life ever changed. The days passed, but life did not. That could not possibly be my destiny for escape from this endless cycle.
I had tried to fight something I didn’t understand. Something I could not understand. My battle would never be won unless that changed.
If there was information to be found, it was to be found only in one place: the library, and it was towards that building that I directed my awkward, trudging steps. I kept my head down in what I assumed was a futile effort to avoid any more attention.
To get to the library I had to pass by farmer’s harvest market. I dreaded walking past, but there was no other way to get to the end of the street. A mother was picking up some spinach from a basket, while her daughter complained that she hated vegetables.
“You better eat up, or the monster Selena will come and eat you in your sleep,” she warned. Neither the mother nor the daughter was facing my direction and so they did not see me pass. An old man begged for coins near the entrance, but was rebuffed by everyone who passed him. A guard walked up to him and kicked him away from his spot on the street, earning the laughter of all who watched. It drew their eyes away from me, and I was nearly through the crowd without a soul seeing me.
“You raised the price of beets again,” one man complained at another stand. “Instead of buying this week, I’ll go home and pray insects crawl into your skull,” he said with a sneer.
“How much for those tomatoes?” asked a woman with a large crooked nose and an obvious overbite.
“I wouldn’t sell my food to someone as ugly as you for your nose’s weight in gold,” he said as he protectively covered his product with his arms.
Two men selling carrots were standing right beside one another. The man with crop of smaller looking vegetables looked enviously at his competitor for a few moments, and then spoke with a sharp bite to his voice.
“How’d you do it, Soldir? Did you fertilize your carrots with your daughter’s virtue?” he said. Soldir didn’t hesitate in throwing a punch, which drew more applause from the audience. The man with the smaller carrots rose to his feet and pulled a small club from his belt.
“Fight, fight, fight!” the guard cheered as he pumped his first. It was a typical day at the market. Each remark was exactly what I’d expect, but today I could feel it boiling my blood. Each line seemed to enrage me further, until I realized all the commotion had rewarded me with the impossible: I had made my way through the market without arousing suspicion.
I could imagine slinking away and enjoying the moment of peace in my hectic life. But with each step I took towards the door of the library, I felt the temptation to disrupt the proceedings grow stronger. When I was nearly there, I turned around at the squabbling, bleating mass and let out a roar. It was loud and fearsome enough to silence the jeering mob, which turned in unison to look at me in fear. I quickly ducked into the library.
As soon as I pushed open the creaky door, I noticed he was at the front desk. Simon’s tall, willowy frame was bent over a book, his dark hair hanging a little low on his brow, partially obscuring his face. He brushed it away with a casual flick of his long, bony fingers before he looked up to see who had walked through the door.
I counted it a blessing that he was one of the few that did not attend my Ruination. Now, of course, he’d see me in all my glory. I’d have to see a startled, frightened, and terrified first look from him each time I walked in this door. Whatever emotions Simon may have had when he gazed upon me, he did not show them. He stared at me with a stony, taciturn expression.
“Can I help you with anything, Selena?” he asked, his voice devoid of any emotional inflection, as always.
“No,” I began, trying to control my tone and sound as normal as possible. “Just looking around,” I added, and quickly ducked behind some musty old shelves.
“Be careful not to tear the pages,” he warned, but it was too late. A casual flick of my clawed finger had already torn one book nearly in two. But what did it matter to me? The book would be restored to full health by morning.
As I wandered through several sections, I realized I didn’t know what I was seeking with any degree of specificity. Not only was I clueless as to which section I needed, I wasn’t even sure what question I should be trying to answer. Should I start with the unique circumstances of my days repeating? Should I try to understand the Ruination? Should I learn more about the Monster War?
For a small, insular, stratified community, the library was fairly well stocked. On the other hand, I had all the time in the world to read, for tomorrow never came.
Day Nine:
There was no reference of any kind to the unique temporal situation that I found myself in. The ritual of the Ruination was referenced briefly, but only to make note of it, not to explain how it worked or why.
The Monster War, on the other hand, was too well covered. While our village was on the front line, many other towns and cities had joined in the battle with the great Ogres from the forest. A single Ogre was powerful and cunning enough to stand toe to toe with at least a dozen good fighting men, or so I was told. Those who voiced opposition to the war were publicly flogged, and men who refused to fight were beheaded in the town square. Nothing unexpected there. Those who lived to tell the tale told similar accounts. We humans had driven them off of their homeland - though according to a few accounts, they did promise to return one day.
For four days, I read nonstop. I learned to be careful with the books, learned to use my clumsy sharp new fingers and prevent the pages from tearing. Nobody said a word. Nobody even tried to make me leave after the library officially closed. It was sad that the best I could hope from my fellow humans – if I could indeed still call myself that – was being ignored by people like Simon.
I continued my work by candlelight when the sun went down. On my last day of reading, just as the dawn was about to break, I could feel my frustration become irresistible. I deliberately threw my candle upon the shelves, causing them to light ablaze. A few moments later, I found myself waking in my bed, as I always did during dawn. A quick glance out my window revealed that the library was fine, of course.
I realized I was out of ideas. I had read every book of any conceivable relevance and found nothing of value. No town was within a day’s riding distance, so I couldn’t try to find information elsewhere. And whenever any villagers saw me, they recoiled in horror.
An hour and three drops of Ogre blood later, Once again, I was faced with the prospect of bowing to the advice of The Hag: to simply accept my destiny.
With heavy steps, I made my way towards the river.
“I figured you’d come,” The Hag said with through a mouthful of fish.
“Why?” I asked. “So you’d have a friend?”
“Because you want to understand.” she replied.
“I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried,” I said. “I can’t understand it. I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s done is done,” she said. “I had to learn that long ago. They are incapable of empathy for the likes of us.”
“If only we hadn’t won the war and driven the Ogres away,” I lamented. “I’d like to see them raze this place to the ground.”
“Driven them away?” The Hag replied with a cackle. “They’re all dead.”
“What?” I asked in shock. “But I just read...”
“Do you honestly think they’d put the truth in books? That they’d allow young people to grow up knowing that their fathers murdered an entire community of living beings? That they put even the children to the sword?” she said with a shout.
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“My fiancée told me what he’d done. He said we humans started the Monster War, and we ended it. He said his unit had been ordered to kill all the Ogre children, and he did it,” she replied. “And I made the mistake of asking an Elder if it was true. For daring to expose this truth, I had to be punished. You know the rest.”
“And your fiancée?” I asked, my face fallen.
“What do you think? Do you think he’d love a monster?” she said. “He never spoke to me again after I became a living reminder of his guilt. And later, as a reward for his ‘heroism,’ he was dubbed the Black Knight.”
“I can’t accept this,” I said, feeling my rage start to burn once again. “I just can’t believe our neighbors are butchers, that just for asking questions they make us exiles, and nobody wants to help us,” I continued, grinding my teeth as I spoke. “And we are powerless to fight back? Just passive victims in all this?”
“There were three of us by the river once,” The Hag began, “but two of them slit their wrists with their fangs after a few days. They couldn’t stand seeing their reflection in the water. When I look, I see the conscience of sick society, a murderous place. That’s all the reckoning I’ll ever get.”
“The Ogres, then, they weren’t really monsters? They were just like us?” I asked.
“Who is and is not a monster is in the eye of the beholder, as I’m sure you now know. But to answer your question, yes, they were just like us, except bigger and stronger,” she added.
I lingered on her final words for a few moments. An idea started to gestate in my mind, springing from the dark place that begged me to bare my teeth when the guards came and set fire to books when they didn’t edify me.
“What would you say if I could promise you a real reckoning?” I asked.
“Elaborate,” she said after a pregnant pause.
Day Ten:
The piercing light of the dawn woke me, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the sun filled me with hope instead of trepidation. I dressed myself and walked downstairs with a lighter feeling in my shoulders. The worry over my impending Ruination had abated. The stress of trying to play out schemes for avoiding it or trying to understand it was no more.
When Aunt offered me muffins, I started to mouth a refusal, but stopped myself. Today there was no reason for me to resist that intoxicating aroma of cinnamon. “I’d love some,” I said. “In fact, do we have any jam and butter?”
We had both. In no time I was smearing them onto my breakfast and stuffing my face with both hands. I felt no sense of shame at neglecting to cut them into delicate, ladylike small bites. I emptied the jar of jam, even hitting the bottom of the jar with my palm to try to shake out every last bit of the stuff.
I couldn’t remember the last time anything tasted so good, or the last time I had let myself indulge. Or the last time I was happy. It felt good, and left me with a warm, safe feeling in my gut. When I was finished, I rose to my feet and left the house of my own accord. I marched right past the guards, heading for the circle of villagers.
“Selena,” Justice Taney intoned, “You’re a few minutes early.”
“Justice Taney, the moment of my fitting, sweet punishment cannot come swiftly enough,” I began as I sank to my feet. “Nothing could make me happier than to submit to the law. I prostrate myself before your beneficent and righteous rule. I will never again fail to live up to the expectations of this fair and honorable society.” I concluding, enjoying hamming it up. For the first time, I stood before the man without a drop of fear in my body.
“Selena, daughter of Roland, I am most impressed by your humility. Clearly you have learned your lesson. I hereby grant you a full pardon. You are free to go,” he said.
“What?” I asked. The sound of applause from the crowd drifted towards me. The dull roar of hands clapping seemed like a hollow echo of the sound of my wound had always sounded as it sizzled.
“My child,” my Aunt said as she approached me. She dropped the white robes she always brought with her on the ground and gave me a warm embrace. “Let’s go home,” my aunt began, “and be glad that this day will never come again.” It suddenly occurred to me that the cycle may indeed have just been broken. I might go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, at long last.
I basked in the warmth of social acceptance for a few moments, hoping that the shock would wear off and be replaced with a happy glow. It did not. The more I drank in the smiling faces of my fellow human beings, the more I saw them taunting me. These faces - the same ones that recoiled in horror at me when I was punished - now wanted to accept me. Why?
Because they were given permission to by an authority figure, and authority figure who could never be questioned and whose edicts had to be obeyed. Because my feigned submission to this rule earned me a free pass, I was no longer a threat to anyone. Meanwhile, The Hag would continue to be an outcast, along with whoever the finger of suspicion pointed at next.
Could I just go to sleep and wake up pretending none of this ever happened? Could I allow myself to slip back into my old life, with nobody the wiser?
I promised The Hag - and myself - a reckoning. Of course, I knew that she would not remember I had made that promise. But I knew that I would remember, and for the rest of my life.
I saw Justice Taney start to turn around and head back to his house. I knew there were only a few moments left for me to make my decision.
“Come on, let’s go,” my Aunt said, tugging at my sleeve as I stood frozen in the center of the courtyard. “And wipe that jam off your lip,” she added.
“I’ll have jam on my lip anytime I please,” I shot back, surprising a few villagers.
“Don’t spoil things after you caught such a lucky break, not if you want to be a lady living in civilized society,” she scolded.
I didn’t need to think twice. There was more civilization in an a row of empty caves than in this village.
I rushed towards Justice Taney just as he was unlocking his front door. I reached my fingers into his front pockets, and quickly found what I was looking for.
“Selena? What...” he sputtered as he tried to push me away. But it was too late: I had the vial in my hand.
With a single, swift motion, I undid the cap and turned the vial upside down over my mouth. The thick, viscous liquid moved through the flask at an agonizingly glacial pace.
I wasn’t really sure what I was thinking trying to ingest it rather than pour it over an open wound, as I had done before. Perhaps I just didn’t want to cut myself, or maybe I just didn’t want a single drop to be wasted outside my body.
I could feel hands jostling me as I held the vial above my head, waiting for the first drop to fall. All the shaking - the attempts to take it away from me - only made the gooey stuff fall faster, of course.
When the green liquid finally hit my tongue, I was surprised. Given the intensely pungent smell, I expected the substance to be terrible to taste. The bitter initial taste was there, but underneath it I was treated with a syrupy sweet aftertaste. It was so sweet in fact I could feel my mouth and lips pucker, like that time I had consumed a handful of pure sugar as a child.
The moment that first large drop touched my tongue, I could feel the prying hands release me. I could feel a dull tingle making its way throughout my body, and I knew the change was upon me. It felt distinctly different than it had before. With no open wound to cauterize, I could feel so many other sensations other than pain. I could feel my body growing and changing in a thousand subtle ways. My broadening back started to strain against my silk clothing, and just as I heard the distinct ripping sound of my wide shoulders tearing it, I heard my aunt start to shriek.
“What have you done?” she cried out. I turned around to see her and I could hear other villagers start to scream as they saw my face. Was I really so more horrifying than I had been before? Or was it just more terrifying because I had chosen this?
A third possibility entered my mind as I saw several city guards start to tighten their grips on the hilts of their swords. This was the first time anyone had seen someone transformed and unchained.
“Somebody, stop her!” I heard Justice Taney cry out, followed by some commotion in the crowd.
As the guards approached me, I slowly paced backwards, towards the center of the main courtyard. The three guards who had followed me from the street were joined by two others and soon I was surrounded.
I picked up one of chains that they had brought out this morning, the chains that had been intended to bind me and force me to experience this change against my will. Now I twirled and whipped it around me as a weapon against those trying to get close to me, those trying to stop me from changing.
My arm started to tire after a few swings, and I could see the spark of initiative start to form as the rapid swishes of the chain grew slower and weaker. My other arm was held up to my mouth, trying to coax another drop of Ogre blood out of the glowing green vial.
I didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the liquid entered my mouth, I could feel my arm get a surge of energy. I started whipping and spinning the chain faster than I had before, as I could see my beefier and stronger upper arm break free of my clothing. With each spin of the chain I could see the muscle definition strain and bulge against my skin and my growing corpulence. One of the guards took a step closer, and I instinctively landed the chain on his foot. He fell backwards, moaning in pain and clutching his hobnail boot.
I shook the vial and another large drop fell into my waiting maw. The rough, bitter taste that was the initial flavor seemed to have vanished, as though my taste buds were numbed to it by now - or transformed, like the rest of me. Now I only tasted the rich, almost decadent sweetness. My tongue ached with the intense flavor as I gulped it down. My world shrunk a little as I gained a few inches in height, and my clothing gave way to my larger frame.
It was obvious from their body language that the village guards were increasingly losing confidence. Their eyes grew wide, backed away from me, and in a couple of cases even dropped their weapons. I let out a low growl as I started to inch forward.
I felt fairly confident I had enough power to succeed. But why stop now? Why let even a single drop of this precious substance go to waste? I looked into the vial. It was mostly empty, but I turned it upside down and shook it vigorously over my mouth. After several jerking pumps by my newly strengthened arm, the fluid finally was expelled from its container, flying towards my face. Most of it landed in my waiting maw, but a few errant drops landed on my lips and cheeks. I moved my longer, more pointed tongue carefully around my long, sharpened teeth to try to lick up those last few bits of blood. The sweetness was blended with the taste of the last dollop of jam on my cheek. As sweet as that was, it was sour in comparison to the cloying, overwhelming taste of Ogre blood.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my hair growing darker and coarser. I was able to see the roofs of buildings now, which meant my body had grown so large I knew I would no longer fit in most doors. My belly had expanded into two large orbs, an upper belly and a lower gut, which hung nearly to my knees and sported a happy trail of hair up to my sunken belly button. My impossibly large breasts now fell and sagged on either side of it.
As I inched closer to the judge, I could see them flopping back and forth with every step. Even the nipples looked different - darker, larger, longer, and with a few dozen curly hairs poking of the sides.
“Selena, please,” I heard Justice Taney beg, “let’s work this out peacefully.”
I leaned down to the judge, reveling in the expression of fear upon his face as I grew closer to him.
“If I had begged you for mercy, would you have granted it?” I asked in a low, guttural voice.
“I did grant you mercy,” he replied as he started to tremble.
“But not when I begged for it,” I said as I lifted him into the air with my clawed hand. “Only when I groveled and said I deserved to be punished. Why?”
“We...we strive for order. We must instill respect for authority, Selena,” he said. “It is our way.”
“Why make us monsters?” I asked him, lifting him higher. His legs wiggled pathetically in the air as I did so.
“As a warning to others who might be tempted to follow in your footsteps,” he said. “Please...put me down.”
“Who is the monster?” I asked as he tried to squirm out of my grasp. He twisted his head away from me as I pulled him closer. “Look at me,” I growled and grinded my mouthful of long, sharp fangs. My protruding lower jaw, which melted right into the slug like series of chins that had consumed my neck, slowly moved towards his whimpering face.
“Now!” he shouted. In my intense focus on interrogating the man who had been responsible for my torment, I had neglected to notice anything around me. I heard a chorus of battle cries, and out of the corner of my eye I could see glimmering steel. The guards had regrouped, and were coming for me.
With little effort, I heaved Justice Taney into the skyline. He screamed as he fell somewhere unseen. I quickly turned around to face my assailants. Bearing swords and spears, a dozen men were running at me from all sides. The bouquet of steel shone in the sun, and on the edges of the polished blades I could almost make out my reflection.
For a brief moment, I could feel a twinge of fear. I was outnumbered, naked, and unarmed. Worse, I might not get a chance to fight this battle again tomorrow if I faltered.
The feeling vanished as the first spear pierced my enormous, wobbly thigh. My blood popped and hissed loudly as it hit the streets. I roared with pain, and the rest of my attackers paused for a moment, studying what I would do. I took advantage of their hesitation and shambled forwards down a narrow avenue. The heavy steps of my hairy feet sounded like I was shattering the cobblestones, and I could see the frail frames of the houses on the street quake with every ponderous movement of my massive, bloated, quivering blob of a body.
The lane was a dead end, cut off by a row of massive logs that served as our city’s walls. I tensed my shoulder and sped up my heavy legs as much as I could. A satisfying crunch ensued when I body slammed the wall, and the logs that I hit started to fall. My leathery, tough skin seemed resistant to any damage from the impact, though my thigh still stung from the stabbing before. I tried to lean down and check on it, but my massive bust and stomach prevented me from obtaining a clear line of sight.
I saw the column of guards headed my way, including two men wearing black hoods: the men whose job it had been to keep me in chains. I grabbed one of the logs and heaved it at the advancing soldiers, knocking several down like toy soldiers. The log smashed into the side of one of the houses, causing it to collapse. Hot coals from the home’s furnace fell to the ground, igniting the bits of thatch roof that had fallen. I raised my first and roared at the sky. Soon, though, I could see more men coming. I turned around and lumbered towards the forest.
I barely felt the whips of the tree branches as I waded into the ocean of green. Looking down, I could see that the deep colors of the leaves matched my skin. When I looked back at the village, I could see the embers from the fallen furnace had erupted into a blaze.
I couldn’t remember my exact path, but as I closed my eyes, I felt as though I could guide myself there on instinct alone.
As I lumbered towards the caves, my juicy and flabby thighs rubbing together with every step, I hear the sound of horses. I knew they’d catch up to me in moments.
I made my way towards the cave I had entered days before, my purpose clear. Groping around in the darkness, I found the halberd on the wall. It was now the perfect size and weight for me.
When I returned to the mouth of the cave, I found about a dozen men dismounting and headed in my direction. My massive, blubbery arms didn’t quite seem up to the task of swinging a weapon with much dexterity, so I let my weight fall forward a bit before I arrested my momentum by taking a giant step forward. I let the swinging axis of my wide torso do all the work, and the blade cut a wide swath in front of me. Several of the men went flying through the air, and one landed in a tree with a high pitched yelp.
The other guards finally started to get the message and retreat. As they did, I let out a throaty roar, loud enough to cause every bird within sight to take flight. When the explosion of flapping and feathers subsided, the guards had all retreated and one man had taken their place.
The Black Knight. And to think I had almost forgotten about him. I knew he probably wasn’t the same man that had been betrothed to the Hag, but it didn’t matter. Vengeance was mine.
“Prepare to die, monster,” he said as he dismounted his horse. “I’ve killed a hundred Ogres,” he boasted. “You will be no different.” I squinted and snarled at him in reply.
As he unsheathed his sword, I knew I possessed only two possible fates - either my head would be his trophy, or his head would be mine.
The Black Knight twirled his sword in front of him as he slowly approached. I committed all my weight towards him for another heavy swipe. It was a rookie’s mistake. As fast as his armor would let him, he shuffled to the side, and gashed my big belly with his blade. I swung far too late at what was now an empty space. Still reeling and off balance, he lunged forwards and stabbed me again. A ribbon of my blood issued forth, and where it landed bushes doubled in size and trees grew visibly taller.
By the time I managed to turn to face him, he had already retreated, taking cover in one of the newly enlarged bushes. I used my halberd as a trowel, clearing away the foliage like they were weeds. Just as I found where he crouched, I saw him pull something small from his belt. I felt a stabbing pain in my belly, and looked down to find three arrows biting my flesh. He was apparently peppering me with a miniature crossbow.
For a brief moment, I considered collapsing on top of him, hoping my weight would be sufficient to crush or at least pin him. But what if I fell on his sword?
Each bolt that hit my gut caused a small spray of blood, which in turn re-grew the brush I had managed to clear. With each spray, the plant grew back stronger looking, with more thorns and more gnarled vines.
“The Black Knight, the bravest warrior in the land?” I said, hoping to taunt him into coming out of hiding. “You fight like a coward,” I added, my voice low and fearsome.
“Better to fight like a coward than die like a dog,” he shot back. “While I watch you bleed death, I’ll refill several vials with your blood for the next Ruinations. You’ll help keep people in line for generations.”
In desperation, I threw my halberd into the brush, eager to launch my own long range attack. It didn’t land anywhere near him. Why couldn’t I have re-lived this fight for ten days, so I’d know what I had to do?
I shambled to a nearby tree, and heaved with all my might to try to push it down on top of my foe. The arrows stopped, and I could see the Black Knight frantically trying to pull himself free of the overgrown hedge and its thorny embrace. In the last possible moment, he rolled aside, and the felled tree missed him.
While he was down, I smashed at him with my talon-augmented hand. I felt only the harsh clang of armor against my skin as a result, and with it a feeling of dread. I frantically searched for my weapon, but saw that it was hopelessly buried under a mountain of vines and plants.
I couldn’t defeat his armor without a weapon. And I didn’t have time to retrieve the only weapon that would fit my massive hands. I could try running into one of the other caves, but what if I ran into a dead end? I had no idea what was in them, except for the first one in the row...
“Accept your fate,” the Black Knight said as he shakily rose to his feet, hoping to intimidate me into surrender. Instead, it sparked within my mind a desperate, final ploy.
“Never,” I growled, and attempted to retreat to first cave. I had to hobble, because I had already lost so much blood that my limbs felt weak.
When I reached the mouth of the cave, the Black Knight stopped, as I had hoped he would. His fighting style was decidedly cautious. Weakened as I was, he wasn’t about to face me in the dark. That would bring an element of unpredictability to a situation in which he already had the advantage. Why take a risk when you’re winning? I blindly sought the table, realizing that I was as good as dead if things didn’t go exactly as I suspected.
Two sounds made my heart leap for joy: the faint purr of a spark lighting a torch and the dull, metallic whine of him tiling up his visor to improve his visibility. I knew I had a fighting chance when I found the giant bowl, and heaved my arrow pincushion belly into it. With a great deal of pain, I leaned as far as I could into it. I even used my talons to knead at my ponderously fat midsection, and each flick of my fingers caused me a shiver of pain. I didn’t hesitate to let out a squeal of suffering. All the better for me if he thought I was in death’s throes.
As he slowly made his way in, I pulled myself to a standing position and yanked the bowl from the table, lying it on the carpet.
“Time to finish you off,” he spat, and charged towards me with his sword drawn. I pushed the six foot wide tureen in front of me, colliding with him in the middle of the room.
As I hoped, his forward momentum, combined with the impact of the bowl straight in the legs, caused him to fall face first into the dish. This, of course, was now coated with a fairly thick layer of my blood.
I pressed his exposed eyes into the bloody mess, gouging his forehead with my fingers in the process. He let out a high pitch, feminine scream, which grew progressively deeper and more throaty as the long seconds wore on.
“No, Black Knight, I think it’s time you embraced your destiny,” I said as I pinned his head down and rubbed it like a rag across to surface of the bowl, eager for him to sop up the fluid of change. His hair darkened, his face puffed out, and I could see little sharp teeth start to emerge from his lips. As I had hoped, his expanding body proved to be too much for his armor. Leather clasps and straps burst as his newly green form grew larger and fatter.
“Do you accept your fate, as I was told to accept mine?” I asked him.
“Never,” he said as the armor popped away from his neck. “I’d rather die.”
“As you wish,” I said, and I leaned down towards his exposed neck. My powerful jaws and razor sharp teeth empowered me to take a generous hunk out of his flesh. He didn’t even cry out.
As I licked my lips I could feel the drops of his blood changing me even more. My big belly expanded larger still, and began to heal its wounds. My leathery skin grew tougher and stronger, and the cuts sustained during my fight mended.
With a contented and exhausted sigh, I stood up from the corpse of the knight and flopped down on the carpet. The soft fur cushioned my blow, and comfortably put my hands behind my head, exposing my impossibly hairy underarms. I wiggled my furry, clawed toes into the fur rug, and let out a bellow of a laugh as it tickled my feet. My chuckling caused my soft body to jiggle and sway for a long time, as though my body were dancing with itself. As I gazed contentedly around the beautiful cave, I knew I had found my home.
“Well, well,” I heard a familiar voice as footsteps approached. “I never thought...I never dared hope…”
“Hello?” I asked, not bothering to rise to my feet or even look around. I was rewarded by the masked face of The Hag peering over my body.
“Selena, I believe you know me more than I know you,” she began. “I’m guessing I probably wasn’t much help to you over your ordeal.”
“Turns out I didn’t need any help, he’s dead,” I said. “The Black Knight met his match.”
“You sure didn’t need help there, but he’s not what I meant. I meant with your punishment,” she said. “I don’t even know how many days you’ve had to repeat before you found this glorious climax.”
“Wait – it happened with you too?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I fought it for seven long months, and only after covering myself in rags and sleeping by the edge of the river did I manage to move on. I didn’t want to give you my path, lest you take it. I was hoping you’d find a way other than mine. And it seems as though you have.”
“I promised you a reckoning,” I said. “And I’ve done it.”
“I know,” she said. “The village is in flames, the Black Knight is dead. Who could ask for more?”
“I can. We’re reclaiming the homeland of the Ogres,” I added. “Our kind is not extinct, not yet.”
“We?” she said.
“Yes, we. You and I are going to live here. Take off your rags,” I said. “We live in fear no longer.”
With shaking hands, she painstakingly removed her rags. I was surprised to see a middle aged woman who was almost entirely human. Her skin was greenish, her teeth and fingers were a little sharp and her eyes had an inhuman look to them, but that was all.
“One drop, that was my mercy,” she said with tears. “But they still recoiled in horror when they gazed upon me.”
“Never again will you feel shame,” I promised.
“There are many caves for just the two of us, eh?” The Hag asked after a long silence.
“Well, you never know what the future could bring in the way of more,” I said. “If another tribe of Ogres exist, they might eventually find their way to us. Or another ‘Ruined’ villager might find meander our way. Anything’s possible,” I said. “But what’s important is that we have found our time and place.”
Tomorrow:
The rays of the dawn burst through the window like knives, and I woke up screaming. It was perhaps the worst nightmare I had ever experienced. So real, so vivid. I had become a monster, an Ogre.
The hunter had become the hunted, and perished in the woods. The thought was enough to send chills down my spine.
I resolved to put the dream out my head and get on with my day as though nothing had happened. After all, I’m far too brave to tremble with fear at a vision. I’m bravest person in the Kingdom.
I am the Black Knight.
~~~
Thanks for reading this story! If you liked it, consider checking out Going Bananas, which also features a woman's journey as she becomes monstrous.
My Big Fat Nerd Bundle is a collection of 7 transformation-themed short stories, two of which are brand new stories! A cheerleaders goes from anorexic bimbo to shy, chubby intellectual, a nerdy, overweight man manages to transfer his attributes to his skinny, popular female friend, a straight-laced, skinny conservative young woman becomes liberated when she goes to Europe, and much more! I decided to release this for free as a thank you to all my readers.
The first ever crowdfunded Transformation ebook, The Transformation Mall contains 11 short stories and vignettes about a variety of characters. Shops can cause weight gain, female muscle growth, age progression, punk changes, gender changes, personality and sexuality shifts, and much, much more, including several brand-new transformation types. At over 34,000 words, The Transformation Mall is easily the longest and most detailed project I've ever done. You can read the first chapter, Cougar Clothes, for free on this site.
