"What is it?" I groan, reaching the door and unlocking it with one hand as I try to drain away the coffee in the other. "Do you know what time it..." I begin to ask, not sure myself but feeling like it was simply not the right hour for all this noise.
My words fall short however as my gaze falls to the source of the noise, my sleep encrusted eyes blinking rapidly as I take in the blurred shape of Margaret grinning with a sly knowing smirk
The woman in her late thirties stands a good deal shorter than me, and even her step-daughter, easily only being between five foot five or five foot six. Her lightly tan skin appears to glow and compliment her honey blonde hair, the fraying and wiry mass constantly fighting to be free from her green clay headband and the black hair tie helping to form into a loose pony tail.
Her soft and rounded dough cheeks appear flushed and rosy, her slender red lips twisting into a mischievous smile as she cranes her neck to look into the apartment. Her hazel eyes, sparkling with little coppery flecks, dart about as she seems to take stock of the room behind me
A set of large form fitting jeans over her lower body, the dark blue fabric straining over her doughy and cellulite riddle backside and thighs. Her hips, while somewhat wide, become lost in her flab, leading to the waist of the pants to sink in seemingly painfully. A white t-shirt covers her upper body, her soft upper arms being lightly pinched by the sleeves while her sizeable saggy chest is held up by a plain cream-colored bra.
A large bag is slung over her shoulder, the jostling sound of paper and wood coming up from the hidden contents as she slips into the apartment.
"Hi Mrs. Richards" I mumble, stepping back as she waddles inside and begins to look around with a mix of giddy excitement and frustration. "Did you need..."
"I've been waiting all week Jordan" she giggles, kicking the door shut behind her as she begins to fish around in the bag for something. She slowly opens the bag, approaching on of my bookshelves as she turns her attention to the rattling contents of the large reusable fabric tote.
"Uh... sorry I've been sick all..." I begin to mutter, rubbing my eyes and the bridge of my nose as I try to work out what she was talking about. "Was I meant to..."
"Sweetheart..." Coos Margaret, a look of shock momentarily covering her face before quickly being replaced with one of joy as she spots something in the bad. "Here it is... Sorry, I just thought that we were still planning to give a bit more of a try with 'Martin' and 'Sammie'" she states quickly putting up a picture of an oddly familiar looking blonde man on the bookshelf.
I hadn't intended for things to work out like this. Weeks ago, after receiving a package of Changing clothes by mistake, I had been slowly experimenting with their effects. It hadn't taken long to make a realization, that people's memories of me seemed to change around whatever body I was wearing in order for everything to make sense.
If I was an busty goth woman, suddenly Gracie was practically living in my apartment.
If I was some plain woman in her twenties, suddenly I was the nanny for the couple across the hall
If I was an attractive young woman, suddenly Emily was nice and even flirty.
It had been fun to experiment, to live day to day as a different 'character' before going to sleep as my normal self, a benefit of lacking any solid employment. However, one day when trying out a set of wide 'mom' jeans and a low-cut top I had soon found my apartment being raided by a group of women in their late thirties and early forties led by Margaret.
Racing around to tidy and to pour drinks I quickly found everyone joking about 'Samantha's' terrible taste, with her apartment decorated like some slovenly young man before being bombarded with jokes that she was probably hiding one somewhere around here like the empty-nester cougar she was.
Despite the rough start I quickly found myself enjoying the night, the wine and gin quickly smoothing things out as I quickly joined in on the jokes and the gossip despite not know a single thing about anyone involved.
Before long this became a weekly thing, with 'Sammie' soon becoming a regular feature at the book club and their girls nights out before coming back to the same building with her new doughy bestie from down the hall.
Things changed however once she saw the change. One day, after letting herself in to ask if she could borrow my car to get to her book club she stumbled across me rapidly filling out the low cut top and the jeans designed for a far thicker behind.
What was meant to be a night out with Carmen, Lisa, Rose, Val, and Hae-Won turned into just the two of use getting downright sloshed on cheap white wine as Margaret grilled me over every little detail. From the mistaken delivery, the how the clothes changed me and the memories of others, even how I would return to normal were all discuss as she hung on every words.
Weirdly enough, the experience seemed to make Margaret and 'Samantha' grow closer as the doughy woman reveled in sharing such a curious secret with what some part of her would describe as her best friend.
This relationship was strained however after one book club meeting. As I ushered Carmen from the apartment, the older redhead grumbling over Uber prices in the area, I hadn't managed to notice Margaret slip into my bed room before she put on my former top. I had only managed to catch her at the end of the transformation, my shock and terror at the sight of the towering blonde man in his late twenties being neatly juxtaposed with the sheer giggling excitement that wracked the former doughy step-mother.
Thankfully she had saved her own form in a separate t-shirt, the label on the inside reading M.R. under further inspection. After a quick change and a few photos I finally managed to convince her to change back to normal, quickly talking her down from 'just the weekend' to 'just the evening' to 'right now'.
However, it had come at a cost. A promise to test out just how far these changes could go sometime down the track.
"Uh... Mrs Richards..." I wheeze, sweating a little as my heart hammers in my chest.
"Please sweetie, you can call me Margret if you like" she chirps, giddily waddling over to another book shelf as she puts up another picture of herself wearing my masculine form.
They all look so familiar, the memory of that fateful night rushing back through the originally panicked drunken haze. We'd taken photos at the time, a series of shoots done for both myself as 'Samantha' and Margaret as she waltzed about looking like some blonde knock-off of my former self.
It had been what it took to get her to agree with returning to normal immediately, a simple request to have 'Sammie' take some pictures by my green bedroom wall while she took pictures around the apartment.
"What are you..." I begin to ask, pausing as Margaret spots my hamper and coos excitedly.
"Ooooooh is it freshly washed? Perfect, you might need to buy some new clothes later" she chimes, flashing me a sorry smile. "I'm sorry, but... well Sammie and I aren't exactly the same size so... wait I have some sweat pants that might still..."
"Hold up" I state firmly, raising my hands as I approach the bookshelf. I quickly take the photo of the blonde man sitting on the sofa, holding it up as I look between Margaret and the pictured sofa not five feet away from me. "What... why are you... did you..." I huff, struggling to think of how to phrase my question.
"I'm just setting the scene hon" she giggles, pawing through the hamper as she pulls free a dark blue set of extremely wide hipped slim fit jeans. She reels back, tossing me the jeans before she grabs a white shirt and hurling it soon after.
Diving forward a bit I grab the jeans, quickly folding the freshly laundered denim over my arm before snatching the shirt from where it falls on the floor. Placing the photo on the coffee table I point to it, giving Margaret a confused look as she throws the slender black top I was all too familiar with at me with a broad grin spread across her lightly tan face.
"No.. seriously..." I grunts, shuffling the clothes around in my arms as I try to juggle them all. "What are..."
"Okay okay, so I've been thinking..." she giggles, prancing over to me as she begins to remove the various rings on her fingers and a small gold necklace from around her neck. "Remember when you first hosted book club? And they all joked about the 'boyish' apartment?" she asks, causing me to blush a little.
"Yeah..." I respond, looking to the books I had shuffled around on my shelf. I had redecorated after that night, once it was announced I'd host another club meeting, to have less of a 'nerdy boy' vibe and more of a 'classy intellectual' one. Academic texts, some new house plants, and the hiding of my games all seemed to do the trick to have the girls suddenly stop their joking and instead merely ask about how the job search was going instead.
"Well... I was wondering how far that could go?" she explains, grabbing another picture and putting it high on a kitchen shelf. "So... I think this was still Sammie's apartment, even when I was... you... you know? But what if my pictures litter the place?" she asks, clapping her hands in excitement at the thought of testing out her theory.
I watch as she places her discarded jewelry on the kitchen counter, my mind racing as she opens a cabinet before stuffing the still jostling bag inside.
"I never said we would..." I begin to blurt out, nervously fiddling with the cotton and elastic blend top in my hands.
"You absolutely did, and then you had to go and get sick" Margaret pouts, obviously having planned to cash in on our agreement earlier. Sensing my nervousness her face softens, a warm smile spreading across her face. "How about we take things slow, just a few hours or maybe a day or two?" she asks, her own nervousness building. "I can try and improve things before you get back! Tidy up around here and keep up the job..."
"Fine..." I sigh, taking a deep breath as I pull the dark shirt I'm wearing over my head and drop it to the ground. "Just for a little while okay?"
The doughy blonde squeals with excitement, grinning ear to ear as she watches me drop my jeans. Her cheeks grow a bright shade of crimson, her eyes glued to the sizeable bulge in my boxers before they too drip to the floor.
"Oh course" she squeaks, looking away awkwardly. "You really think I want to be away from home for that long? Just a few days, a week at most" she states, inadvertently increasing her time frame with a big smile on her face.
Sliding the sleeves of the black top through those of the white-shirt I quickly pull it on, the dark narrow sleeves stretching and straining to their breaking point as my thick arms squeeze through. The chest of the top hangs loosely, a whimper escaping my lips as I know exactly what would soon be filling them.
Slowly but surely I set into the jeans, easily pulling up the wide waist over my narrow legs before tucking the black top beneath the denim in order to neaten it out.
Suddenly, a low gurgling rises up from my chest and rear, my stomach churning as some strange force ripples out from beneath my skin. Body hairs quickly recede, lightening in color as they turn to a soft downy fuzz. I feel my hair puff out with a strange pop, the short back and sides along with a swooping fringe soon forming as my hairstyle screams 'can I speak to the manager'.
I lift the jeans higher with my right hand, letting my left drop to my side. I wince with each deep pulse through my body, my hips crackling and growing more and more generous by the second as my rear balloons out with pound after pound of soft supple flab.
Lost in the sensation I barely notice Margaret fetch her discarded jewelry, the doughy woman waddling her way over before sliding the various rings onto my slender and malleable fingers. I feel my neck and shoulder begin to narrow, slimming down as my chest inflates with each and every shallow breath. The small gold chain is quickly clipped around my delicate nape, the small rose at the end dangling into my mounting cleavage as the massive perky shelf quickly grows larger than my head and begins to strain at the dark fabric of my top.
With a sudden pop I feel the ripples stop, my face quivering and snapping back to a solid state as my lips plump up and my jawline grows remarkably soft and feminine. A foul tasting layer of lipstick quickly comes to cover my lips, a perfectly applied dark red, as my eyelashes are accentuated and my face is covered in a light touch of make-up.
A loud gasp escapes my lips, my shoulders rolling a bit and my extremely wide hips rocking as I feel my joints crackle slightly with age.
"I'll never get used to that" I sigh, the deep and sultry mature voice rolling from my tongue and hits my ear like sweet honey.
"Sure sure..." Margaret stammers, grabbing my white top and tugging it up over my head. Staggering a little I feel my generous assets jiggle and shake along with me, my ass rippling inside their denim prison that feels almost painted on while my lower back begins to ache at the lack of support for my oversized chest.
I barely have a chance to say a word before Margaret pulls the white shirt over her head, her flabby body already sporting another as she quickly begins to wriggle out of her jeans beneath the large hem of the oversized top.
As the first ripple hits her from inside she staggers back, bracing herself against the kitchen counter. A shrill squeaking cry escapes her lips as she begins to suddenly rise up, her quivering bare legs soon sprouting dark hairs in waves as her legs extend out in painful looking lurches.
Her blonde hair rapidly recedes, the wild and frizzy lock soon turning to a short and messy mass as her headband clatters to the ground. Her jaw crackles and snaps, her soft double chin disappearing as her weak jaw grows wider and more angular.
Her chest and ass rapidly drain away, her hips collapsing inward in a pulsating manner. A loud groan slips from her thinning lips, pitching down lower and lower by the second as she clutches at her crotch. Her eyes water for a second before going wide, a devilish smile spreading across her lips as she soon clutches at the bulge between her legs with two hands.
With one final crack it's over, her back arching and her head rolling back as a low pleasured moan erupts from her borrowed lips.
"Fuck..." she chuckles, her voice sounding like an odd imitation of my own. "I need a drink after that" she chuckles, patting herself down as though to check that everything was where it should be.
As I watch her brief exploration I begin to fidget and play with the rings on my fingers, absentmindedly turning the small golden band on my left hand without much thought to it. The newly minted man quickly strides around the counter and into the kitchen, his eyes shifting to the fruity wines in the fridge before turning away.
"Actually..." she mutters, biting her lip as she struts over to the liquor shelf and grabs a good bottle of scotch. "Men should have something a little harder" she chuckles, pouring an glass all the way to the rim before taking a sip. "Can't wait to test out what else I can have harder with..."
"Margaret?" I whimper softly, swaying and mincing over towards the young man in the kitchen. "Do you mind putting the uh... the shirts away?" I ask nervously, realizing that one of the shirts she was wearing was the only way to get her back to normal.
"Oh, right" the blonde chuckles, pinching at the two tops before reeling at the feeling of their flat chest. "Sure thing Samantha, you can help yourself to a drink if you'd like" the young man coos, my alter ego's name rolling off their tongue with no small amount of glee.
However, as Margaret rounds the counter she pauses, looking down at my slightly shrunken form with a grin. It suddenly sinks in just how much taller my old build had been from my new one, my five foot six and overly curvy frame leaving me craning up to meet Margaret's gaze.
With a snap of her new fingers, the doughy and plush step-mother turned single man races over to the door as she gestures for me to follow. Raising my arms daintily I pace along behind her, my wide hips swaying wildly and my arms squeezing together as I try to keep my mammoth bust steady with each delicate step.
As she opens the door she looks outside, a smirk spreading across her borrowed lips as she places a hand on the small of my back.
"Actually, perhaps we can have a drink tomorrow.." she muses, shoving me out through the door almost violently with her newfound strength. "It looks like you need to get home" she chuckles, dropping her keys in the hall before slamming the door shut on my confused form as I hear a voice call out.
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