My mouth hangs open for a moment in a stupefied fashion, a low gurgle rising from my throat as I struggle to string even two thoughts together. Staring down at the tiled floor I watch as the dark lines between blur and fade together, my vision waning by the second. Coughing to clear my throat and focusing my sleepy mind, I finally manage to croak out "Tr...Tracy... I'll..."
"Fan-tastic" the technician muses in a chipper manner, her fingernails clicking against the plastic keyboard as she makes some new notes.
It was a tough choice, the idea of becoming far younger than my current body was all too enticing. However, each left me worried from the keywords mentioned.
'Easy' was hard to interpret, the fear of becoming some office slut overwhelming the idea that her life was simply easy.
Living with someone's parents was a no after over a decade of enjoying my independence. I cringed at the thought of asking for some allowance, living under the rules of another person, and playing by their rules.
Finally, the word 'Taken' sent chills down my spine. The other women had more neutral and less possessive terms, leaving me fearful of what being 'Taken' might entail.
With those worries in mind, the only option left was Tracy. Her job meant she had her own money, and living in a larger home meant she was hopefully somewhat well off. The 'Kinky' tag worried me, but certainly not as much as the rest or as much as having to deal with her fiancee.
Thankfully, my worries and fears soon fall away as my mind slips into a deep and restful albeit chemically induced sleep.
No dreams come to me as I rest, the mixture of the intense procedure and the overwhelming medications to keep me under make sure to leave my mind as blank and cooperative as possible throughout the process.
It is only once my mangled gray matter reaches its new home that the lights turn on inside my head. The dreams themselves are an almost painful blur, a roiling mixture of thoughts and feelings as synapses reform and incisions begin to heal.
Classrooms sit overlayed atop one another, one unrecognizable while the other making sense to me as my eyes lazily dart over the whiteboard. Those around me shift and change on the fly, flickering between the uniformed boys and girls I remember from my youth and those strangers in far more casual mid-2000s attire.
Uniformed boys talk to me about video games, though the minutiae is lost in the dreamscape, while relatively plain and demure young women ripple in and out of view on neighboring desks as my mind clings to the oddly familiar topic of boys and weekend plans at each other's homes.
Disorienting flashes of more intimate moment warp me from my make-believe desk as I am thrown into the throws of passion. Beneath me lays a petite redhead, her gray eyes unfocused as she moans beneath me. However, below I feel nothing as each thrust lacks the pleasured feedback I was expecting from my first time.
As if registering my confusion I'm suddenly met with the feeling of something pressing into me from between my legs, my mouth hanging open as I gasp in a mixture of pain and pleasure from the sudden intrusion. My back is met with the feeling of soft velvety couch cushions as I feel myself both laying on my back as well as resting on my hands and knees.
My head aches as it tries to grapple with the disparity, my stomach churning as I feel like something is trying to poke at it and mix up my inside from below. Above me is a young man, a nervous look covering his reddened face as her paws at my flat chest with one inexperienced hand.
His palm doesn't make contact with my skin, his fingers sinking into the open air above my hairy chest, however I'm soon left writhing as I feel a sudden sense of dull pleasure worm its way through my body.
With each thrust from both myself and the young man I feel myself growing softer, my chest and behind rippling as we both plow our respective partners. The vision of the redhead soon begins to slip away, my addled mind focusing on the source of lewd pleasure and disquieting pain as the space between my legs feels like it will split in half at any moment.
Soon I find my legs in the air, my thighs quaking as I wrap my limbs around the man in an effort to pull him deeper. Matted hair clings to my neck and my face as howls of ecstasy erupt from my lips.
I watch as the memory of the redhead slips into near obscurity before we both reach the tipping point. I mirror her movements, my back arching along with hers as we're hit with something beyond my former reckoning.
I wake with a gasp, my body burning up after the intense nature of the dream I had just experienced. My mind tries to cling to it, the mixture of pain, pleasure, and most of all disorienting confusion. However, even after a few moments the details begin to slip away, replaced with a dull throbbing inside my skull and a dry terrible taste in my mouth.
My eyes slowly struggle open, the room around me appearing similar yet also different. The same white tiles line the floor, the dark grouting nestled between them all, but the walls seem a slightly different shade of off-white. Or were they? My stomach churns as I try to place the difference, unsure of I was imagining it as I simply struggled to place why I felt the colour was off.
Strangely enough, despite my constant blinking I find my vision faring no better as I glance around the room. The world distorts and shifts from crisp and clear images at a distance before growing blurry as things draw near.
"Why is every..." I groan, freezing up as I hear my voice. It is light and feminine, yet rich and full despite the cracking dryness of it all. It is the voice of a bright young woman, one that I had never heard before but at the same time felt correct.
My heart rate quickly ramps up, a subtle beeping coming from behind me as a monitor picks up the sudden change.
Reaching up to my face I immediately bump my arms into two fatty protrusions from my chest, the massive and unwieldy mounds quaking in some flimsy yet clingy material as I impact them. Glancing down I'm met with the sight of a cavernous amount of pale cleavage resting in a bright sunflower yellow sundress.
My mouth drops at the sight, but it's hard to pin down why. The sight beneath me is one that is familiar yet ungodly foreign, something telling me that I had been familiar these for some time while my memories simply lacked any recognition of them.
The heavy fat tits resting on my chest easily overflow the torso on which they rest, the dress doing what it can to keep them contained while also allowing them to freely hang past the sides of my chest. Beneath them I can feel a sticky and sweaty pocket where skin meets skin, the heaving mounds resting against me and leaving me wishing for a shower.
Strands of dark blonde and extremely light brown hair begin to dance in my vision, the somewhat dry and slightly wavy strands eliciting a quick huff from my lips as I instinctively blow it away.
My hands shake slightly as I poke and prod at my face. My cheeks feel rather full, my fingers running over a distinct lack of any pronounced cheekbones as they sink into the soft flesh. My jawline fares little better, the weak and delicate lines being clung to by a small layer of doughy fat rounding it out. My lips thankfully got something from the deal, feeling full and kissable beneath my soft fingers.
My ass feels asleep in the chair, the hard padding beneath me leaving my lower body numb. As I try to shift my weight a bit my eyes go wide, the feeling of my whole body moving up once clashing with my memories to an extreme. It feels normal, my wide pelvis bumping the metal sides of the seat painfully and my rear barely coming free from the cushion bellow, but I know it is somehow wrong.
As I drop back into the chair I feel my chest move like a thing possessed, some soft layer of pouch-like flab in my belly and abdomen following suit beneath the more light and freeing section of the dress.
My breathing become ragged, my eyes darting around as my blurred searches for something to help me or at least to alleviate my growing discomfort and terror.
Behind me I hear the door open, a pair of footsteps rushing into the room and the beeping grows progressively more intense and urgent.
"I see you're awake Ms. Logan" coos the voice of a middle-aged man, his deep and calming tone sending my heart rate into a confused and fluctuating rhythm. It was familiar and not at the same time, I knew it before yet I was expecting another voice compared to this odd stranger's.
"Where..." I begin to croak, my dry throat leaving me coughing as my chest shakes with each violent action.
"Are your glasses? Johnson has..." He begins to explain, pausing as a dark-skinned hand whips into view. In its grasp is a pair of large and round wire-frame glasses, the color of the metal being lost on me in the blur.
"Sorry ma'am" the younger voice mutters, holding out the spectacles for me. "Just had to..."
I find myself moving in instinct, quickly taking the light yet large pair of glasses from him with one hand and bringing them to my face.
As I do so I find my eyes locking to my hand, the digits being smaller than in my memory yet also being softer and slightly pudgier than I was expecting. My head hurts more and more as I try to come to grip with the varied thoughts in my head, my bad vision doing little to help with the situation.
As I get the glasses into place, the world snapping back into view, I feel a hand rest between my shoulder blades. A slight amount of pressure is applied, as though I am being urged from my seat.
"Come now Ms. Logan" muses the older man, his other hand reaching down to take my arm for guidance.
...
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