A knocking raps out from the front door, my groggy mind barely aware of where I was let alone able to really work out who would be at the door.
Groaning loudly, my voice sounding more like a pre-teen boy than my own, I slowly heave myself to my knees. A cascade of hair tumbles around my ears and shoulders, the strands seemingly evening out slightly though still lacking any uniform cohesion across my scalp. Wobbling up to my feet I feel loose skin droop and hang over my right pectoral, an empty sack of flesh just waiting to be filled with something softer to the tough.
"God damn..." I whimper, limping my way to the door as I feel my body scream and fight me the whole way. Each step hurts in some way or another, too much weight being put on an irregular joint or an overly shrunken tendon twinging as it's forced to extend.
Reaching the door I creak it open slightly, not wanting to let anyone see inside or let any of the disease of scent from within out. Looking outside I'm met with the sight of a platter of food, tape measure and a note reading
'Need measurements for uniform'
My mouth immediately begins to salivate at the sight of the food. Despite the damp sea air and speckled rain drops covering the platter my body yearns for that had been left outside. Sticks of butter lay piled in the center, my tongue smacking at my lips as the craving for fats of any kind burns deep in my gut. Beside the large plastic platter sits two jugs of milk, the sloshing lipid and calcium laden beverage making my throat feel almost painfully dry at the sight.
Worst yet is the slab of raw red meat stacked around the veritable tower of butter, the sight of which leaves me almost wide eyed with hunger as something deep inside my demands I consume the iron rich meat with reckless abandon. The meat itself is dotted with a hefty coating of ground rock salt, my strangely large feeling tongue hanging out of my mouth as I drool at the sight of the sorely needed mineral
Lurching forward, the empty sac of skin on my chest dangling awkwardly beneath my shirt, I grab the platter and drag it inside. My hands shaking as I pull the hefty plate of 'food' across the threshold before snatching at the milk jugs as I tumble back and kick the door closed.
Grabbing at one of the sticks of butter I don't even remove the paper wrapping, my jaw cracking loudly as the lopsided bone strains to fit the damn thing between my parched chapped lips. I nearly gag as I bite down, the salty fatty mush filling my mouth in a mixture of pure delight and absolute disgust. A soft moaning fills the makeshift home as I chew and struggle to swallow the paper-filled fatty mess, my hands darting to a milk jug as I quickly crack the lid and raise it to my lips.
With a heavy gulp I force the mouthful down, butter and milk and paper cascading down into my aching stomach as I shudder in an almost pleasurable manner. Try as I might I can't seem to stop myself from drinking the ice cold milk, my misshapen nostril whistling as I struggle for air. My stomach aches and bulges as I finally manage to come up for air, the insides straining as the milk and butter comes to settle inside me.
Drooling in a daze I sit staring at the food with unfocused eyes, my hands clinging to the milk jug as I feel my stomach gurgle and rumble. Before long the hunger pangs return, my body rapidly chewing through the contents of my stomach as it leeches out every ounce of material it could.
My hands leave the milk jug as I snatch one of the small minute steaks, a slight twinge of discomfort spreading across my face before I plunge the dripping red meat into my mouth. It's chewy like rubber and the ice cold juices filling my mouth do little to settle my nerves, though despite this the flavor of the meat on my tongue leaves me cooing happily as the juices dribble down my shrunken chin.
I barely even think about what I'm doing as I bring the milk back to my lips, the creamy chaser helping to force the meat down my throat. The gurgling cries from inside me only grow more pronounced with the addition of raw meat, my body rapidly breaking down into usable materials as my tendons quiver and bones crackle inside my uneven limbs.
I feel like I'm entering into a trance as I move between butter to milk to meat to butter again, short breaks following each frenzied devouring of the raw ingredients. Sweat coats my body, my muscles twitching and cramping throughout my body as time goes on. Before long, every inch of my feels as though it was springing to life as my body begins to repair itself after the frantic tear down I had experienced.
I soon forget of the note and the tape measure as I curl up into the fetal position on the floor, my stomach bulging and aching as I feel terrible cramps fill my abdomen. Whimpering softly on the floor my mind grows fuzzy and dazed, the viral load of the Gender-Flu finally breathing the blood-brain barrier.
A pool of drool begins to form beneath me, my eyes struggling to focus on the dimly lit room as my brain tissue is rapidly 'repaired' after years of late nights and evenings of drinking. Before long my body goes limp, the virus adjusting a part of my brain that serves to act as an 'off-switch' for my waking self.
I wake to a knocking at the door, my heart skipping a beat as I scramble on the floor. I yelp in pain as I feel my hair get caught under me, my eyes going wide as I feel the immensely long strands catch under my worryingly wide hips and plush perky rear beneath me.
"Wha..." I begin to weakly grumble, a delicate and delightfully soft voice crackling from my lips as I roll about on the floor to get my harms and legs under me. My body still radiates with fever, my muscles and even my bones aching as they repair themselves from the terrible warping they had been forced to undergo.
The hammering on the door bangs throughout the studio once again, the person on the other side. As I get my shaking arms and legs beneath me I feel a terrible weight hang from my chest, the right side feeling fuller and larger than the other as my shoulder and back quiver with the need to support this new weight.
"Sick!" I call out, a shuddering breath soon following as I bark in my pathetically delicate voice.
"I know that" calls the voice of my mother from the other side of the door. "I can practically smell you from out here. I expect that room cleaned up once you're well... young lady" she chuckles, her voice almost gleeful from beyond the hardwood door.
As I try to stand I feel my legs give out, my body dropped down as I feel my foot land in the dried puddle of cum on the floor. I groan an d huff loudly as I feel my chest squish into the hardwood floor, the sudden impact wracking me with pain as the soft and supple mounds on my chest compress awkwardly beneath me.
"I'm just here for the measurements" she states, a low thud coming from the door as she rests something against it. "I'm heading to town, so I can pick up some things while I'm there."
"I... uh..." I groan, rolling to my side as I feel my ribs crackle against the floor. My body feels impossibly small and light, my hand reaching beneath my now tent-like shirt as my fingertips glance over a perfectly flat taut stomach and the faint hint of a rib above.
"Let me guess..." my mom huffs, the eye-roll being self evident in her tone. "You didn't do the one job I gave you." she continues, her grumbling sending a shiver down my spine.
"I... I'm still..." I blabber, freezing up as a wave of light brown hair tumbles down in front of my face.
"Sure sure..." my mother mutters dismissively, the door creaking as she pulls back form leaning against it. "You could have at least given me some idea of what I need to look for. I mean, I thought you would be a least a little more mature this time aro..."
"Looking for... what?" I ask, cutting her short as I flop onto my side and simply lay there. My hips pop as I lay on my right side, the wide childbearing pelvis causing me to shift my waist and legs to try and make myself more comfortable. My hand continues it's exploration, a soft gasp escaping my lips as I feel my fingers reach the lopsided and sweaty mounds pooling out from my chest.
"Your uniform, did you even read my note?" she responds, sighing a little as she takes a breath. "I can't believe I'm having to organize your clothes again... at least it's for a daughter this time rather than..."
"Why do I need... a... a..." I blubber, my breath growing short as I reach up to let my fingers sink into the large and sensitive flabby bust and take my small yet painfully hard nipple into my palm.
"A uniform?" my mother responds, scoffing a little. "Well I certainly haven't seen you trying to sell off that little viral gift of yours to anybody. You always lacked initiative, so I decided to help my daughter a little more this time. "So of course you need a uniform, after I went to all the effort to...
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