More general 'increased beauty'

[Jamball]

You are correct sir.

--
Jamball

[Shadowsbane99]

http://chompworks.deviantart.com/art/Aisha-616320261

[chemahg77]

I think this belongs here... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpJFE8UcFcU

[godleydemon]

Originally Posted by chemahg77

I think this belongs here... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpJFE8UcFcU

That was a cute short film XD though I don't know about "Increased Beauty" by the end of it XD LOL

[Vengeance1701]

Or for my taste, anywhere at all in it. That was gruesome.

[pox913]

It's been a little quiet on this thread lately, so to liven it up a bit I'm posting a Jekyll & Hyde commission of mine drawn by none other that the incredibly talented Manic. This one was meant as a follow-up to a J & H commission he made for me several years back; it hasn't been seen by the public until now. Hope you enjoy!

[Hardcase]

Holy crap, that was amazing!

Thank you for sharing!

[bluffton]

Thanks! Awesome stuff!!!

[Reactant]

Wow, best content post we've had in awhile! You are right, it has been really quiet the last few months - thanks for breaking the silence.

I had originally planned to wait until I was done the whole story, but I've had a hard time moving it forward recently, so I'll just share what I've done. First kick at the can making process myself, but I've lurked for a long time and would like to give something back. Open to feedback:

EDIT: If anyone knows how to use the text editor built-in to change paragraphing, I'd be happy to make it not one horrible wall of text. I can't seem to find paragraph options in the small editor though.


FITYMI (Fake it 'til you make it): Change Room

“Look, I can’t explain anything more than that, it’s all I know, but I really need your help!”
Wendy wasn’t convinced. Her life had taught her to be pretty suspicious of pretty girls, since many times placing trust in them had been mistakes that had led to embarrassment. Why other girls always felt the need to pick on her she was never entirely sure, but it had made her a guarded person.
Perhaps it was her larger stature. Wendy had never been skinny. Even as a child she had always been chubby, and as a girl in her late teens her body hadn’t made any sudden changes. She had at least hoped to have gotten some curves, but those never really arrived, or at least hadn’t yet. It’s also possible it was her height. Being short and chubby without curves made for an extra undesirable look.
Or perhaps it was her unremarkable, flat hair and bland face. Her brown eyes were unremarkable and somehow her glasses magnified not only her vision, but also the mediocrity of her looks. Either way, she effectively had a target painted on her that she had never shaken. But this particular interaction was pretty out there, even for the often incredible genius placed into malicious plans to trick her into a compromising situation.
She had come to her favorite mall, a small strip mall near her parents’ apartment complex, to do a bit of shopping. She had outgrown her favorite pair of jeans, but happened to know that this store, which specialized in big and tall women (though she had no use of the tall) stocked a wide variety of sizes, shapes and lengths of her favorite brand of jeans. When she came into the store the clerk, a pretty, petite blonde girl that she recognized as one grade below her, had been off in a corner, seemingly talking to no one. She had assumed she was on the phone, but when the cashier noticed her come in she jumped, and seemed flustered in a way that made her think she may have actually been speaking to herself. This, in addition to the totally inappropriate body type and stature of the clerk perturbed Wendy.
Wendy had decided to let it go, and just went about browsing. She was looking at a top that she thought might not look horrible on her when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She started, and then turned about to see the clerk smiling nervously, standing a little closer to her than she was comfortable.
“Um, hi? I’m just browsing…” she said, backing into the wall racks to create some more space.
“I know, sure, that’s fine but…um…oh God, I have no idea how to go about this…” the petite girl said, raking her hands down her face, and then cupping them in front of her mouth. She took a deep breath and then stepped closer again, leaning in as if to whisper a secret.
“How would you like to change your looks?”
Wendy blinked at her, her eyes wide. This had to be a trap, or something. And yet, it was such an obvious question.
“Wouldn’t anyone? Except maybe Macy Delong, but she’s already perfect, and most of us –“
Wendy didn’t get to finish her tangent, the petite blonde girl again moving close, with a look of desperate insistence, “Okay, okay, great, so here’s what you have to do. And I know it’s going to sound strange. Actually, crazy. Like, totes insane, but please, please, PLEASE believe me. It will work.”
Wendy’s eyes widened further. She seemed genuine, more so than any of her pranksters in the past. They had always barely held themselves together. She had dodged pranks recently by reading their slight grins, or noticing them giggle malevolently. This girl looked like she needed her to believe her desperately.
“Okay. You explain, maybe I’ll try,” Wendy said, calmly.
“Oh thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” the blonde gleamed, smiling more widely than Wendy had ever seen in another girl talking to her in years, except when they had just pulled off a prank…but this was different.
“So…I don’t understand how, or why, but this…voice came to the store this morning when I found this weird card on the floor. It told me that I was being forced to participate in a ‘wondrous display of frivolous magic in a land deprived.’ I have, like, NO clue what that even means but…well, anyway. He said that it was two person activity. Or at least it had to be if it was going to be a good thing. I needed to prove my skills as a store attendant by picking out a perfect outfit for a customer. But not a perfect outfit that will fit them now, but a perfect outfit that will fit them as they WANT to be.”
The blonde girl paused, a look of desperation in her eyes as she looked at an increasingly incredulous Wendy.
“Oh you don’t believe me…fuck…I’m so screwed. I’ll prally end up looking...” she paced away from Wendy, her head in her hands, before stopping to look back at her, tears forming in her eyes. “Forget it…maybe afterwards we can hang out…my mom always says, ‘birds of a feather, flock together’ and I sure won’t be the same feather as my friends after this…”
Then Wendy surprised herself: “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”
The blonde girl slowly turned, a giant smile on her face, her eyes twinkling, “Yayyyy!!!” She leapt over to Wendy and gave her a hug. Ordinarily Wendy might have dodged out of fear, but she was backed against the wall. When she realized it was a hug, a real hug, like the ones only her mother gave her, she returned the gesture.
“Okay, so what do you need me to do?” Wendy asked her new friend, “And, also, if we’re going to do this, what’s your name?”
The blonde smacked her head against her palm “Oh my god I am SO dense,” she gestured to a name tag on her blouse, “Carol, I’m Carol. But my friends call me Carebear and, if we pull this off, you will SO be my friend.”
Wendy smiled gently at her new friend. A part of her screamed silently inside, though: She’s not your friend! It’s a trap! They’ll be waiting with cameras to capture your embarrassment and put it all over the internet! But she silenced that voice. It was worth it, for this moment. To feel what it was like to have girl-friend for the first time in so long. To have any friend, except Carl.
“Okay, so, full disclosure, I need your help because if we screw this up, I’ll end up looking like my own version of the next person who goes in the change room. And I happen to know that a pretty unfortunate looking obese woman is coming in about 30 minutes and probably no one else, so you are SERIOUSLY saving me from fatsville.”
Wendy shrunk slightly at the final word.
“Oh my god, I am SO sorry, I am such a bitch. But look, you will be so amazing after this. I mean, you are amazing now, even if you are fat. I mean…oh god, please forgive me.” Carebear was practically vibrating, and spoke with a ridiculous pace.
“Carol…Carebear, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. What do we need to do?” Wendy said, placing a reassuring hand on her new friend’s shoulder.
Carebear beamed at Wendy. “Okay, so you…we need to pick out an outfit for you. But not one that fits you now. Unless you like how you are now? I think…I don’t know. I think it should be different. Pick an outfit that would fit your ideal self. Or like, a body you would like to have.”
Wendy’s voice of caution was really screaming now. They are going to dress you up how you want to look and then laugh at how far apart those realities are. And they will have pictures. And you will be wearing all these ridiculous clothes…
…but then she saw Carol’s face. Carol could see her doubt, and her jubilant smile was slowly fading, and she was beginning to return to her panicked expression. Hating to see her like that, Wendy took action, despite her voice of caution.
“Where do you want to start?”
Carebear’s gleaming grin returned, “Every girl’s favorite – shoes !!”
Wendy had never shopped for shoes in this store, as mostly they sold larger shoes. Wendy had tiny feet, which caused problems for her with her extra weight.
“So, big shoes often, if not always, sort of mean you are taller. Unfortunately, in this store, our shoes are just specialty for, like, bigger and taller girls. So our smallest size is a women’s 10. However, these,” she grabbed a box from the shelf, “are the best and most popular shoes we sell.”
Inside the box was a pair of tasteful, light gold heels. The heel on them was at least four inches. Wendy had never worn heels in her life – she had enough problems with her feet, the doctor insisted that if she couldn’t lose weight – and she couldn’t, try as she had for a decade, she couldn’t – she had to at least wear smart shoes.
Despite all that, she was picking an outfit for what she WANTED to be, not who she was.
“Perfect.” Wendy said, not missing a beat, despite all these thoughts.
Carol beamed, as only she could do, “Awesome!! Shoes down. Let’s go for a dress now.”
“A dress?!” Wendy replied, suddenly losing her calm. She had looked at the dresses in this store. They were either for women so much and slimmer than her, or so much taller than her, or, despite her size, so much bigger than her, she couldn’t comprehend. Carebear had taken a step back at Wendy’s exclamation.
“You don’t like dresses?” Carol asked.
“No, it’s just that…I only ever was scared of being able to buy a dress here, because I figured it would mean I had gotten big…really big.” Wendy said, with a tone of sadness.
It was Carol’s turn to offer a comforting pat on Wendy’s shoulder.
“I saw some of the videos that the bitch squad posted. What they did…what they said. Well, we’re about to change it all,” Carol walked over to their dress display, “pick a dress that would be worn by someone that would make even Macy Delong feel like a little girl.”
Carol had the mischievous grin now that Wendy had learned to fear. But this time it was picturing, not Wendy’s embarrassment, but the embarrassment of Wendy’s oft-tormentors. Wendy had to admit, the change in perspective was enticing.
She reviewed the main dresses on display. They had one that was clearly designed for a heavier, tall woman with a full bust. It was a beautiful green, and had a neckline that would both accommodate and flatter a full bust. Despite her own lacking in that respect, she was knowledgeable of fashion enough to know what worked and what didn’t for who and what bodies.
The second dress on display was for a slim but very tall girl. Its neckline plunged incredibly deep, only viable for someone with very little up top. It was for a body in many ways opposite her’s: tall, slender. But it had even less curves than her. Wendy had none of the desirable traits: pretty, slim, fit, or curvy. But, in her thoughts of what could have been better, she found herself favoring curvy. She truly felt she would be so much better off if her weight at least had garnered her with a womanly figure. Instead, she was just an unremarkable sphere.
As she had these thoughts and was preparing to look at the third dress in the main display, a dress on a shelf off to the side somehow caught her eye. She wandered over and picked it up. It was a golden dress, one that would match her new shoes. It was made from smooth satin with a scoup neckline. The bottom of clung tightly to her legs and cut off mid-thigh. It was made to fit quite tightly on whoever wore it, and was clearly made for a remarkable figure. The wearer of this dress would have to be tall and curvy, and not too slender. Leaning toward athletic, a larger body without being heavy on the waist.
“What do you think of this -” Wendy began to ask, but Carol interrupted:
“It’s perfect.” For the first time, Carol had a new look. It was one of awe. She was clearly envisioning the woman who would fill out this dress, and it was a striking image in her mind.
Wendy took the dress. “So, that’s really all we need, right? Or do we need accessories?” Carol grinned at her, “Were you planning on going commando?” Wendy hadn’t thought of that. The woman who would wear these would never fit in her current underwear. She was going to need a new bra and panties.
She walked over the underwear rack. They had a wide assortment. But this time she knew what she wanted. Underwear, for Wendy, had always been a secret presentation of personality. And she had once seen a pair of pink old school Nintendo panties on the clearance rack. She looked at them, but had a much harder time judging what someone would look in them than she could discern from looking at a dress. She felt a tap on her shoulder.
“These ones!” Carol held out another pair of the Nintendo underwear, just a little different sized. “I was going to hold these for my cousin – she’s a bombshell – but, I think these will be perfect for how you’ll end up with that dress. Now, we’ve got a big decision…”
The girls swiveled in unison toward the bras, one of the largest sections of the modestly sized store. “I know which one I’D be choosing if I were you…” Carol said, flicking her foot back and forth coyly.
Wendy expected she knew. One of the top selling items in their store was the 34F bra. It was rare to find bras in bands lower than a 36 in a cup higher than DD, so many well-endowed but slighter women came to the store for this alone. However, Wendy didn’t think that the wearer of the dress would have a 34 band size. She expected she’d still be at least a 36, compared to her current 38, but instead of being exclusively wide, it would be a result of simply being an Amazonian woman.
To that end, Wendy stared at the racks for a while before seeing two to choose between. One was a classy, sexy and tasteful, a full cup bra in purple with subtle lace trim. It was a 36F, and her mind whirled at the idea of filling it out. Her current bras were just as wide, but their cups were pubescent in comparison.
The other that caught her eye was a lower cut black bra, which would go a little better with her golden dress. It was padded (something that felt unnecessary to her, as someone who nearly required padding to have a bust of note) to lift, a push-up bra. She had never bothered with any push up bras as she didn’t have enough to push up without looking absurd and forced. At a 38E, she would be a larger woman, but with her dress she knew she would never be called fat (at least not reasonably). She picked them both up, and showed them to Carol.
“I know we’ve only known each other for a little while but…”
Without hesitation, Carol went past her to the rack and grabbed a different bra from further back. It was very similar to the classy, purple 36F, but in a larger cup size: 36G. The two looked at each other for a long moment, and then, in unison, nodded. Wendy headed for the change room.
“Wait!” Carebear called out. Wendy froze, as if her life depended on it, mid stride. She felt something land gently on the top of her head. She raised her hand and turned toward a nearby mirror, finding her friend had completed the outfit with a tasteful golden ribbon. It was used a pin to attach itself, to Wendy’s relief, but did look quite adorable. It clashed with her unremarkable, flat black hair, but she hoped it would look better when she emerged on the other side.
Wendy went into the change room, turned and faced out with the door still open, and paused, looking at Carol, who was looking nervous. “Do you have any idea how this is going to work?” Wendy asked.
“Not really…no. I was just told that you go in with items, you fit yourself into them as best you can. When you come out of the change room, ‘you’ll come out of the change room not just a changed outfit, but a changed woman.’ That’s what the voice said. And, depending on how it goes for you, I go in after. And when I come out, I’ll have changed too. No clothes necessary, on my end.”
Wendy took a long look at her new friend. This was so ridiculous. She came in to relieve some stress by splurging in a store that was not meant for her, and ended up caught up in this bizarre drama. She could tell by the look on Carol’s face, though, that this was no prank. At least not as far as she knew. She looked down at the clothes bundled in her arms, and the accessories dangling from her fingertips. She shook her head for a moment, but then steeled herself for the battle of fitting into these garments.
She decided to struggle into her underwear first. It was definitely not designed for her, but she was hoping that since it was big enough for a bigger butt that she’d make it work. It was much more of a struggle than she had hoped, involve hopping and straining. At times Carol would call in, “is everything okay in there?” and Wendy would reply with something like “uh-huh,” in an effort to mask her struggles. It was sweet that Carol cared. Finally, she managed to squeeze into the underwear. It was far, far too tight in some ways, but way too loose in others. An unflattering, uncomfortable fit.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” She heard Carol call in, as she reviewed the awkward fit in the change room mirror, “the voice said if you rip the clothes, its okay. As long as you get mostly into them, they’ll fix themselves as part of the change. Not that, like, you will, but, you know, I mean…” Wendy smiled, her friend certainly had a way with words. It was endearing to meet someone even less effective at putting away the shovel when she was already in deep as herself. At length, Wendy said, “Okay, thanks! That’s reassuring, it’s definitely not a good fit so far…”
Next she went for the bra. While the bra was a fine fit around her band, the cups were enormous for her. It made her small breasts seem even smaller – a depressing image for Wendy, who was already always highly conscious of her lack of curves other than her rolls of belly fat.
She had been distracted while putting on the undergarments, but she glanced again at the ribbon Carol had put in her hair. It didn’t go well with her hair or complexion, but Wendy did like it. She was excited to see the form that it would match.
Suddenly, though, looking at this, with that optimistic thought in her head, the cautious voice returned. She realized how ridiculous she already looked. With the dress and the shoes, she expected it would be even worse. The image of Macy and her cronies creeping into the store, giggling with excitement and holding a swath of smart phones between them, poised to capture her in her full grotesque display…
…but she banished the thought. She knew that look in Carol’s eyes. She could hear it in her voice. As absurd and unbelievable as this all was, she believed Carol. Moreover, this was an opportunity like no other. After this, perhaps Macy would be the one embarrassed in her presence, though Wendy had no intention of being as malevolent, despite some part of her yearning for retribution.
With renewed purpose, she looked to the dress. This was going to be a mechanical struggle of epic proportions. While the dress was clearly designed to accommodate a full bust and a generous set of curves, it was an hourglass shape with a much, much thinner waist than she currently possessed. After minutes of intense struggle, she managed to squeeze in, and it looked just as ridiculous as before, perhaps more. Her belly stretched the midriff in a way only describable as comical or sad. The bust of the dress was filled only by the empty cups of her bra, an open abyss in the space between the cups and her chest. Just as she thought she may have gotten through okay, as she bent to get her shoes she felt a creak in the tight fabric and a quiet but audible riiip. She looked in the mirror and the back of the dress had given way to relieve some of the pressure from her far too large midsection. Wendy sighed, and was suddenly very grateful at the caveat Carol had notified her of earlier.
“It didn’t make it, eh?” Carol whispered through the door. Wendy hadn’t thought the sound was so loud, but she supposed Carol must have been very close at hand, highly invested in all this as she was.
“Not exactly a good look for me, Carebear…” Wendy said, with a little bit of humor in her voice.
Carol laughed, “I’m glad you are not taking it to heart. Once you walk out and the change happens, it will all be worth it!” Wendy could practically feel her beaming smile through the thin plank of the door. She looked to the shoes – last step.
She slid them on her feet and they were far, far too big. Moreover, as she had always experienced with her small feet, taking even a couple steps in the heels quickly resulted in significant pain. She was very glad she had left this until last, as she couldn’t see herself walking further than a couple steps.
She reviewed herself one last time in the mirror. She looked like something out of a gag sketch, a deluded woman leaving a store with a severely deluded self-image. ‘Yea, don’t you love my new dress? It’s, like, soo flattering.’ Wendy couldn’t help but laugh slightly and shake her head.
Suddenly, she heard a voice distantly outside the change room, perhaps from the entrance to the store at the other end of the shop.
“Oh shit, a customer. Just come out when you can, Wendy, I don’t have to be nearby for it to be a thing.” She heard Carol scamper away, and greet the customer with her usual rosy demeanor.
Wendy took a deep breath. Perhaps that voice was actually her tormentors arriving without subtlety. They already had her right where they wanted her. At this point, though, Wendy barely cared. For the chance to be someone who would wear these clothes well, it was worth the risk. With uncharacteristic confidence, she walked carefully toward the door and opened it, stepping out.
For a brief moment, she felt horror as with her first stride, nothing had changed. Then, in a strange sensation that she would never forget but also never be able to effectively describe, everything around her seemed to slow before coming to a stop altogether.
Everything was now colored in shades of greyscale, as the world was paused. For a moment, across the store, she could see to her relief that it was another of the regulars, a tall and rotund woman that Wendy often saw come in, that had been the voice she had heard. Carol was chatting with a smile, paused mid gesture. The woman glowered slightly, looking at Carol with the same thought obviously on her mind that Wendy had when she first saw Carol working her – shouldn’t she be big or tall to work here? Or at least curvy?
Soon, though, she was torn away from her idle observations, as she felt a sensation on her head. Or, more specifically, in her hair. It was a little like a pulling sensation, and suddenly Wendy felt as though she was almost outside of her body, looking at herself. She was no longer in the store, or even in that same point in time, she somehow knew. She was looking at herself as a baby, perhaps a year old, and the hair on her head was a darker shade of blonde, somewhere between a dirty blonde and a golden blonde. With a strange lurching sensation, she saw herself as a teen, her hair long like always, but instead of flat and unremarkable, it was even longer than usual but also wavy and voluminous in a way it had never been before. It had a full lustre and an eye-catching gleam. She watched as she talked with her old girl-friend Kelly in the sixth grade.
“Your hair is so pretty, Wendy. If you could just lose some weight I bet you could be a hair model, even just off your face!”
Wendy cringed. Toward the end of their friendship, Kelly commented more and more often on Wendy’s weight, and the importance of her losing it. Kelly had been her best friend in childhood years, but while Kelly slowly lost her baby fat in exchange for height and a modest set of curves, Wendy’s figure only grew more spherical.
Suddenly, she found herself back in the store. For a moment, outside herself, she could see her new self. Her hair was changing in front of her eyes, the flat, black, straight hair lengthening, taking on a wavy texture and brightening in moments. The locks cascaded around her, and with only this one change Wendy already felt it was a striking difference. If nothing else, she now had a gorgeous mane of dark, golden hair that would make most women jealous.
She realized that the changes were in order of when the items were put on. That meant next would be her undergarments, changing her lower body.
Her guess proved correct, moments later, when the greyscale world seemed to shift, and she found herself looking at her younger self, this time in grade six. This was the starting point of where her and Kelly had begun to deviate in their physical and (as far as Wendy could tell, correspondingly) social stature. Kelly and Wendy had both been chubby, glasses wearing girls. They had shied away from sports and boys, and the other skinny girls. Around grade six, however, Kelly began a transformation that shifted them to their ranks. Over the course of the first three months, her belly fat, that had thus far proved stubborn to depart, began to shrink, and her legs began to lengthen. At first, Wendy had enthused with Kelly about her change, shopping together and vicariously enjoying her shift in physicality. However, over time, Kelly grew distant. She started to invite other friends instead. New friends. Skinny friends.
This reality that she was watching showed a different course of events. She saw Kelly waiting on a bench at the mall, close to the stores they used to never be able to shop at. Then she saw herself, a very different looking herself, sashaying toward her friend. Kelly looked up from her phone, and her jaw dropped. The two girls squealed with joy, indifferent to the startled, grumpy glances shot their way as a result. Wendy’s stomach had slimmed, and her legs were longer. In addition, she now had a modest pair of hips and a backside that would at least turn heads among their young teen peers. Her sweatpants were ill-fitting, but the image was still a renewed one.
“Oh. Em. GEE!” Kelly said, at length, “I knew it would happen. Your just a little later than me, but this is so awesome ! We need to get you some new duds, girl!”
The young Wendy gleamed an incomparable smile. Wendy could remember her younger self being so grateful. She had felt her and Kelly slipping apart, the distance between their body types and possible garment choices a steadily more appropriate metaphor for their widening differences. With this, though, while she had not developed much in the way of a bust (especially compared to Kelly, who seemed to grow steadily every month in that respect), at least by slimming down and gaining some attractive qualities in her lower half, she was closer to the same league as her friend. What once had been a turning point (the next day, Kelly had gone shopping with Macy Delong, ditching her) in their friendship for the worse, was a turning point for the better.
Wendy found herself pulled back into the current timeline. She watched, in awe, again as her body shifted. Her legs lengthened until she was just a little taller than average for a girl, and became somewhat fuller than before, but without the flabby quality of her old stubby legs. Then, the ill-fitting dress began to fit a little better on her lower half, as a pair of sensuous wide hips flared out. It was only at an awkward angle that Wendy could discern that her ass had not remained in the same size and shape it held in her youth, but had grown further, while remaining firm. Her lower half now looked like it belonged to the girls she had envied on Instagram, the ones with a penchant for squats (and dubious diet teas). Lastly, she watched as her stomach, which stretched the dress, receded significantly. At the end, she still had a substantial belly, and her bust remained unremarkable and flat in contrast. However, she at least had the lower half of an hourglass figure, and the change was already more than enough to move her from the realm of highly undesirable into a niche of attractiveness.
It wasn’t over yet, though, Wendy knew. The next item she had put on was her bra. She had butterflies in her stomach, pangs of uncomfortable nervousness in anticipation of what was about to come. Again, she felt herself lurch through time and space, into her past. This time she found herself watching a memory that was radically different from any memory she held before the changes. It was her ninth grade junior prom, a sort of celebration for students finishing their last year of middle school before beginning high school (which in her community started at grade ten). This had been the scene of one of the first major public pranks against her, where Macy had had a cute boy who she had a crush on dump the entire punch bowl over her. Her dress, an expensive rental that her mother had saved up for to try and raise her spirits, had been ruined, and Wendy’s spirits most certainly had not been lifted.
The scene was much different this time. Wendy was nowhere to be seen on the dance floor yet, but something, after a few moments of watching the awkward youths dancing together in clusters, drew her attention to the main entrance. A pair of girls walked through the door, looking stunning in matching, gold sequined dresses. A tacky choice in the eyes of most these days, sequins had been quite popular at this time and place, and these two wore them well. Just as Wendy was growing impatient that she could not find herself, she realized that the two girls looked very familiar. She realized after staring a moment longer than one was Kelly, her old best friend. But who was this girl she was linked arm-in-arm with…
…her jaw dropped with sudden realization. It was her. This version of herself was yet another leap in difference from the already significantly changed self from her prior vision. While she still carried a visible amount of weight on her stomach and could not be called slender, she now had curves top to bottom that more than made up with her extra heft. Her hair cascaded down her back and chest, its moderate golden tones sporadically catching a glimmer of light from the laser show at the DJ’s table. It was even more gorgeous that it had been when she was younger, its wavy texture undeniably made her look more mature than the girls nearby, whose hair were either straightened or curled artificially in a way that often looked cheap. What truly set her apart, though, both from the other girls on the dance floor and the previous version of herself was her bust. While not nearly as big as she expected she would be if she were to fill out the bra she put on in the change room, she was in a league of her own compared to just about every girl (and woman) in the gymnasium where the dance was being hosted.
She noticed idly that Kelly seemed bigger up top as well as she recalled at that age…but suddenly her mind seemed to fill with new information, not consciously as if she were being taught, but as if she had already learned it and was suddenly remembering…she could now clearly tell that Kelly was wearing a padded bra ! She remembered noticing that Kelly had come to visit her during a long weekend after she had not seen her in awhile. It had been a week after she had experienced a growth spurt and filled out significantly up top (close to the size she was now at the dance). She had remembered occasionally catching Kelly taking longing sideways glances at her newly improved bust, which now significantly outpaced Kelly’s own growth. At first, when she had seen her, she assumed she had had her own spurt. But when Kelly did not do her usual enthusing that she would with any new growth, she realized what was really happening. She had bought a padded bra to try and off-set the difference. To the unknowing eye, it served its purpose. For most boys their age, they would be too distracted by the enhancing effect it had on her cleavage to suspect anything. Wendy knew her too well, though, and that first day when she came over, it wasn’t a look of pride in newly attained assets in her eyes. It was a look of shame and envy. Wendy decided the kindest thing she could do was never bring it up.
Snapping back to the dance, Wendy knew that Kelly had gotten used to regularly enhancing her assets, and no longer (at least outwardly) showed the signs of mental frustration she had at first. It certainly helped that they shared the limelight in situations like these. While Wendy still was a league ahead of Kelly in curves, Kelly was taller and slimmer, which appealed more to some.
Reality shifted again, and Wendy found herself observing the announcement of Best Dress. She remembered clearly that Kelly had won at this dance, since Macy Delong had received the unique opportunity to go to New York with her parents, but it had happened to coincide with the time of the dance. Kelly had always been close to as pretty as Macy at this stage in their lives, though in high school Macy quickly leapt ahead in their rivalry. This moment in the limelight had also been the final blow to their old friendship, as Wendy had been pranked still despite Macy’s absence. The fact that a prank was still organized on her clearly related that Kelly had been directly involved. While it was a minor prank (a tall, handsome boy visiting from another school asking her to dance, and then flipping up the bottom of her dress to a waiting crowd of girls with smart phone cameras to capture the horrifying moment) compare to many, it stung so much more for knowing that Macy had not been in the captain’s seat.
This time, however, Kelly was not going to win. As they made the announcement, and Kelly prepped herself to step toward the stage, they instead called Wendy’s name. Kelly looked devastated. She couldn’t even compose herself enough to make a look of fake enthusiasm – she simply stared with her jaw dropped. As Wendy took the stage, and thanked everyone there for their votes, and then took the dance floor to dance with the young man who had won Best Suit (incidentally, the prankster from her other life), she noticed Kelly dash from the dynamism in tears. Wendy broke with tradition and abandoned her dance partner, instead pursuing her friend. Kelly had always been very fit, though, and Wendy couldn’t catch her. However, in following her path before giving up, something in a bush nearby caught her eye. Discarded in it was a very well-padded, strapless bra in gold color. She held it in her hands and looked sadly toward the field where her friend was dashing into the night.
Reality shifted once more, bringing her back to the present. Wendy braced herself for the transformation to come now. She watched in increasing awe as her breasts swelled steadily, the dress and empty bra cups which had previously hung hilariously loose around her filling up steadily. She passed the size which her younger self in the vision had possessed and kept going, the cups beginning to fill. The small, slightly pendulous bumps that had once comprised the entirety of her breasts slowly grew into genuine mounds. Contrary to what would happen to most women whose breasts would grow, they rose higher on her chest as they swelled into mounds, the slight sagginess of their fatty composition being undone as they grew. From bumps to small beginnings, they now began to rise off of her chest, her nipples slightly upturned. Also whereas her breasts had been awkwardly side heavy, the mounds-becoming-globes on her chest now were very well centered. As they surged outward, they also began to widen on her chest, growing large enough to pass over the sides of her chest and also large enough at the center to create a natural valley of cleavage. Wendy could not help but stare as, even when the cups seemed appropriately full, her breasts continued to swell until they were perhaps slightly too large for the cups. At this stage, the natural valley of cleavage was now assisted by being hedged in by the cups of the bra and the tightness of her dress, creating a spectacular display of cleavage that she had only prior seen on the bustiest and most fit of Instagram models that she followed.
The dress, while it still did not seem to sit quite right on her body - too loose in some ways, too tight in others - looked significantly better with her substantial bust. These changes had done little to modify her weight, however, and she still carried significant fat on her upper half, face and stomach. This lack of change was still heavily offset, though by the incredible size and quality of her breasts. While women with larger bodies, heavier bodyweight and large breasts often suffered from sagginess, this could not be said of Wendy. Her breasts sat high on her chest, and the cleavage profiled by her bra and dress was nothing short of incredible. Between these three changes alone, she could barely recognize herself. Her curves and hair so significantly made up for her bodyweight that she almost struggled to think of herself as fat. It helped that she had slimmed down some as part of her lower half’s transformation, but she could tell on examination that she was still quite heavy. It had always struck her as unfair how being fat was only a big issue if you didn’t have curves to go along with it. That was always a particular point that Mila had loved to torture her over, “How did you manage to get *nothing* on your chest or ass? Like, you must just looove being a fat, ugly ball or you’d have convinced some of it to end up as curves.” Wendy shuddered and shook away the memory. Suddenly, she realized that it was more than a metaphorical shaking away. That interaction had never taken place, now.
Her musings were interrupted, though, as she felt the shift toward her next change. Next up was her dress. The lurch she felt pulling her back in time and space was nearly nauseating, and she expected if in this disjointing form she was capable of gagging she certainly would have. She found herself looking at a classroom full of very young grade school students, seemingly of the youngest age bracket. A teacher stood at the doorway to the classroom, making sure everyone got in and settled okay, greeting the parents as they led their children in or dropped them off, and smiling gently at the students as they went about to find their seats, conveniently labelled with their names. One child wandered in, however, that caught the teachers attention. The child had long, beautiful golden hair with subtle waves and volume that would be envied by any other girl. She was quite pretty, but in an unconventional and very striking way – her eyes, even at that young age, had a piercing quality to them. What made her stand out even more than her exceptional eyes and hair, was that she was at least a head taller than all of her peers. She looked closer to someone a year or two too old to be in this class. She was unaccompanied, but confidently went over to a small group table that was unoccupied and covered in coloring books, picked one up and started coloring. The teacher moved from her spot by the door and approached the young girl.
“Excuse me young lady, what class were you told to come to?” she asked, kneeling down beside her at the group table. Without a world the child fished into her backpack and pulled out a form. It clearly stated that she was in the right place, though the paper was crumpled and the name was illegible as a result.
“What’s your name, dear?” the teacher asked, smiling at her. The young girl looked at her briefly, but continued to color.
“Mom and dad always said I shouldn’t talk to strangers. I shouldn’t tell my name to them, they said.” The girl replied, her voice surprisingly cute given the rest her strong appearance. The teacher laughed gently at the girl’s response. “Well, sweetheart, I’m not a stranger,” she held out her hand, still stooped at her side, to introduce herself, “my name is Mrs. Carmichael. I’m your teacher this year, see, just like it says on your sheet!” With this revelation, the girl beamed suddenly, a wide and endearing smile appearing on her face.
“My name is Wendy, nice to meet you!”
Wendy, observing from some unknown vantage, had little time to be shocked before she felt herself lurching forward slightly. This time she arrived on another significant scene that she could remember this clearly even without the aid of this strange force. It was the playground of the same school, but during her second grade. This was the year that Kelly moved to her area. She could see Kelly walking away, beginning to cry, from a group of girls who had just refused to let ‘the stupid new kid’ play four-square with them. It was at this point that Wendy, originally, who had been reading a book in the shade of a doorway closer to the building had seen her, and then approached and consoled her. That had been the start of their friendship that had taken years to disintegrate, but in its prime had been a source of enormous joy for Wendy. This time, though, the new Wendy had just walked onto the playground from going to a nearby store during recess. Normally children weren’t allowed to leave the schoolyard during lunch or recess without a chaperone, but Wendy could see how she was permitted to bend this rule. The second grade version of Wendy walking into the yard now could easily have been mistaken for someone three grades above her. Wendy was surprised to see that this version of herself carried more weight on herself than she originally had at that age – she had only really started gaining weight notably when she was in the sixth grade. However, the bit of extra weight she carried was off-set by the fact that she looked far more mature for her age. She was examining a package of some kind that she was holding in her hands, when she heard the sobbing of her soon-to-be best friend. The expression on her face went from one of neutrality to one of concern, mixed with righteous fury. She moved quickly over to the girl, pocketing the item of earlier interest.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Did you fall and hurt yourself?” Wendy asked with concern, her voice much deeper than it had been in her earlier memory, with an edgier quality that was suiting with her imposing stature.
The girl looked up at her and sniffed. Wendy had forgotten how tiny Kelly had been when she first arrived, and the coke-bottle glasses she wore before trading them in for something more tasteful in the fourth grade, and ultimately switching to contacts in the sixth grade. “No…I’m new and…the girls wouldn’t let me play with them…” she replied, between sniffles, before beginning to sob again. This Wendy glared at the pack of girls. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Wendy watched as her new, younger self stomped over to the girls. This version of herself didn’t need to raise her voice. In fact, she simply stood staring at them for a moment before one of them dropped the ball in a sudden start, and all of them stood rail-straight. From her current vantage, Wendy’s consciousness couldn’t make out what she was saying. However, she saw all four girls nod in unison, and apologize profusely. Wendy’s posture relaxed, and she gave a hug to the smallest of the four girls. She returned to Kelly, this time with a subtle grin of satisfaction on her face.
“Next time you ask to play, with them or anyone, they will. We don’t bully here. Not on my watch. I’m Wendy, by the way. What’s your name?”
Kelly suddenly went from crying to a wide beaming smile, the same smile she had shone on Wendy when she had originally offered to hang out with her on the monkey bars. “Kelly! I’m Kelly. You’re … you’re so tall! And…pretty…why would you help me like that?”
Wendy furrowed her brow, “Thanks, but I’m in your grade, believe it or not. I heard the teachers talking about a new kid. And I helped because it was the right thing to do. Make sure you do the same if you see something and can help, okay?” Kelly nodded, the look on her face momentarily serious. Then her eye caught the glimmer of the packaging from whatever it was she had been carrying in her pocket. “What’s that?” Kelly pointed to the package partially visible in her hoody pocket. “Oh yea!” Wendy said, an excited gleam appearing on her face. “I got these new booster pack from a trading card game I like to play. Wanna look at them with me? The art is really cool...”
With that, Wendy’s consciousness felt itself being tugged away once more. This time she found herself somewhere she didn’t recognize, and it occurred to her that this was a totally novel memory. In fact, everything felt distinctly different than in her other experiences. She was now seeing from the perspective of her younger self. The slight blue-grey tinge that had coated everything during her observation of her other memories was gone as well – everything was in color as it would normally be. She looked down at herself, and jumped when she saw that the hands of this new, younger body followed her commands, rising toward her face, palms facing down, she was able to inspect the backs of her hands, and then, as if this body were her own, flip them over to look at her palms. She very quickly went from inspecting her hands to being drawn to stare down at her impressive cleavage. While her bust was not large enough to fill the present day bra, it was a step again larger than her already significant endowments from her memory of the dance. But why was she now in control? And more importantly, where was she?
As she took stock of her surroundings, she realized she was in the living room of a home she did not recognize. Moreover, she noticed that she was wearing a formal golden dress with a moderate train and skirt. It reminded her of the pink dress she had worn to prom, but this dress was accustomed to this busty, strong and tall form as opposed to playing down the flaws of her old spherical shape. The furnishings of the home were quite classy – a black faux marble table, black pleather couches, tasteful dark wooden furnishings at the edges of the room, with vases full of various colorful flowers. She approached one of the various tables and picked up a picture frame. In it were four people: a well framed, somewhat predictable posing of a family in more or less matching outfits. There were two men, and a woman and a girl. The family resemblance was candid in all of them, with the son taking after the father and the daughter taking after her mother. The father was tall, with a sprinkling of grey at the tips of his still full head of hair, an intense set of bright blue eyes and a slightly discomfiting grin. The son was more at ease, and equally handsome. She might have assumed he was college age at first, but closer inspection made her feel that perhaps late high school was more likely. The mother was clearly on the shorter side, but had a beautiful face, gorgeous curly blonde hair down past her shoulders, and a slender figure accented by a larger than average bust. The daughter took after her mother, except in height, despite being clearly junior high age she was already taller than her mother. Her hair was a bright blonde like her mother, but a wavy consistency, a compromise of her father’s straightness and her mother’s curls. Wendy got the sense looking at her that she was on the cusp of blossoming.
“Isn’t that a lovely picture?” a Texan-accented voice punctuated the moment, giving Wendy a start, “Oh my goodness darlin’, I didn’t mean to spook ya!” Wendy turned to find herself in the company of the mother from the picture.
Today she was wearing an off-white sweater with a moderately low neckline, a string of pearls necklace, and a tasteful pair of black women’s pants. Despite the significant heels on her feet, Wendy found herself looking down at the woman, who was mostly diminutive, except her chest. “We are just so tickled to have ya goin’ with Daniel, he couldn’t be happier that you said yes. I know it must be intimidating to be goin’ with all these older kids, but you’ll get by just fine – frankly, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Daniel had lasso’d himself a college girl!” The woman laughed heartily at her own joke, slapping her thigh and reaching out to gently tap Wendy’s side.
Suddenly, everything was coming together in her mind. The handsome young man in the picture was her date, a high school boy who had met her at a party and asked her to go to his high school prom with him just weeks after she had gone, intentionally solo, to her own prom. She wasn’t quite she why she had gone alone…her mind was a blur, a messy overlap of existences and realities. She needed more time, and more input from this world to clean things up.
Wendy laughed along politely with the spirited woman, then, after a pause, asked for the washroom. “Oh darling, don’t call me Mrs. Rawlings, I’m Diane and I won’t have it another way – we’re all friends here!!” Still beaming with a giant toothy smile, her teeth perfect and gleaming white, the older woman led Wendy upstairs. The rest of the house was equally well furnished as the living room – high quality hardwood floors were underfoot in most of the house, but white slab stone was the floor furnishing the bathroom. Someone in the family clearly had a love of white and black marble and stone, as they made appearances throughout the household. As she stepped into the bathroom, she was startled by the warmth of the floor.
“Ain’t the heated floors just to DIE for, sweetie? I can’t get enough of ‘em ! Anyway, I’ll leave you to your business.” The older woman departed, still grinning ear to ear, and pulled the door closed as she left. Wendy took this moment to review herself in the mirror. She had been able to assess that her bust had grown since the memory of that earlier dance, but the other changes she could only see now. Her hair was well past her shoulders, a slightly wavy consistency with a full volume not diminished from her earlier memories. Her face was far more mature, now, even though she somehow knew that that dance was only a little less than a year ago. She had grown taller, also, and the small amount of weight at her stomach had completely disappeared. She had an hourglass figure, with wide hips. The spread of her dress made it hard to discern the qualities of her lower half, but she at least knew she had long legs. The fact that the top of her head nearly reached the top of the mirror made her believe that she must be close to six feet tall. She could not be described as slender, though, despite her hourglass shape and flat waist. She had a broadness to her and a musculature to her arms that was in no way overbearing or grotesque, but would make anyone remiss to call her a ‘girl.’
“Fake it … ‘til you make it… that’s the name of the game. If you blow it, don’t show it, or your gain will not remain…”
Wendy had no idea where the faint voice she heard came from. She was alone in the room, she confirmed by hastily pulling back the shower curtain.
“Whose there? What are you talking about?”
“You entered a change room as a part of a plea, but you’ve entered a game, soon you shall see. Fake it ‘til you make it, little Wendy, or back to your old self, you’ll quickly be. And be on the lookout for the shimmering lights, to earn for your team even greater delights!”
The voice faded, and somehow Wendy knew she would get no more answers. She had to find a way to complete this memory without full knowledge of this life. She had to gather as much information, clues, to how she had changed, who she had become because of her new form. This was one moment that Wendy was glad that, if nothing else, she had always been at least a little bit clever.

[Mr GorpThorp]

Originally Posted by pox913

It's been a little quiet on this thread lately, so to liven it up a bit I'm posting a Jekyll & Hyde commission of mine drawn by none other that the incredibly talented Manic. This one was meant as a follow-up to a J & H commission he made for me several years back; it hasn't been seen by the public until now. Hope you enjoy!

This type of Jekyll and Hyde is one of my favorites, thank you very much for making it public.

[Ser-Goblin]

Reactant, that's a great story, I hope it will continue!

Is this your first work?

[BillPratt]

Good piece of work, Reactant.

No magic bullet on the paragraph spacing. You have to put them in yourself or write a program to do it for you.

Good flow. Light on the passives, but still too many. Do a search through the story for "was" and look at places where you can kill the "was" and put the action back in as the verb. You almost always can.

The set-up is a little weak. You can speed that up quite a bit.


This line:
Then Wendy surprised herself: “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

misses. It's wordy, commits weakly, and doesn't need a colon.

Then Wendy surprised herself and said, “I believe you.”

It's not wishy-washy. It's a commitment that should cement things with Carol, and legitimately surprise Wendy, because she's pretty wishy-washy at this point.