Back home with a shopping bag, Pris walked up to the mirror on her closet door. Pris took her hoodie and shirt off altogether. The layers of clothes hid much of her transformation. Now exposed, Pris noticed new curves around her shoulder running down to her arms, curves that used to be a straight line. With the aid of a magazine page showing muscle groups, she mentally noted that these muscles were called 'deltoids'.
There were moments when Pris feared looking at herself. The differences could be subtle to other people, but not for her. But today Pris felt like she had to inspect her own body. Her blue bra was hurting both her shoulders and her back. It was the same one she had re-adjusted just four days earlier, moving the straps all the way to the end.
“I’m growing faster…” Pris said, removing it in relief.
There were imprinted marks from her bra on her breasts, more so than her shoulders, that were starting to hurt. Pris used to retain such marks on her pale skin for hours; but today the same kinds of marks vanished almost instantly in front of her eyes.
Pris was impressed.
Inspecting her year-old blue bra closer, Pris could see it was tearing apart. Some seams were broken and the strap adjuster was almost completely busted. She had loved that piece of clothing. Even for her small breasts, it was hard to find a bra that was wholly comfortable - and that blue one was the first one she really liked.
Not too girly nor too lacy, it was just right, Pris thought sadly.
“Well, no more,” Pris said, looking at it for one last time before tossing it into a bin.
Opening her shopping bag, Pris took out a new black bra. Pris had her measurements taken at the store, her dimensions having been promoted to B-cup. That meant her breasts had grown an inch all around in just the last week. She had known that her development would be faster in the beginning, but not that fast.
The new black bra was completely elastic, since the wired versions would be obsolete very soon. Pris has been pretty oblivious in regards to her own body. She never thought of it as attractive or sexy. It felt featureless to her, especially when compared to the Amazons (who seemed to be the only girls the boys had their eyes on anymore). She saw the start of her cleavage for the first time. Her breasts were meeting each other, touching each other as her new bra pushed them up.
Pris took a selfie for no reason. She noticed that her arm showed a bit of muscle when it was bent. She did not know why, but it made her feel resolute, more sure of herself.
Or maybe it is just a good picture, she thought.
Pris took another selfie.
“Another good picture…” Pris said.
Her usual bored stance, slumped back and constant dark eyes weren’t there. Instead, her posture was better and her smile came off naturally.
She took another selfie.
And then a series of them, making all kinds of faces, flexing her arms with funky faces. She even flashed her breasts to herself and took pictures of her butt.
“Shit… I do have a butt…” she said, more in wonder than anything else. “I have a fucking ass, motherfucker.”
Nearly all the pictures came out well. She didn't think there was a single bad one that needed to be discarded. Pris usually had to take up to twenty selfies just to make one that was worthy of a profile. But as Pris scrolled the current photostream, she felt that any of them could have been used as a profile.
“I have the power…” Pris said to herself.
Pris felt the need to share it. Or at least talk to someone about it. Pris had issues with using Snapchat, an app that she deemed was designed for use by constant immediate attention whores. But it did erase the pictures by itself.
Pris chose one of the photos with her arms bent, showing distinctive muscles on her upper arm. She wrote above her proto-Amazonian form - "Here’s the beef" - and sent it.
She felt another pang of hunger in her stomach.
“Again?” Pris asked herself, feeling her feminine abs with the tips of her fingers.