Dennis closed her long-lashed eyes and breathed in and out slowly through her newly full, lipstick-coated lips, feeling the heft of her huge bosom heaving as she did so with each and every breath. The jiggling sensation of her massive mammaries shifting in her tight bra was the least of her worries at the moment, but it sure did make it hard to concentrate. Nevertheless, she stuck to her training, going over the mental checklist she’d been taught to cling to in reality-altering scenarios like this one.
“My name is Dennis Wills,” she thought to herself. “I’m thirty-six years old, I’m a man, right-handed, and I’m a field agent for the Supernatural Defense Division, a covert branch of the United States government. I’m attracted to women, my favorite food is a rare steak, and my favorite film is Back to the Future, Part II.”
From what Dennis could tell, everything seemed to be in order mentally, even if her body had been radically transformed. She remembered her ‘key identity facts,’ as the SDD called them, and repeated them in a mantra at the back of her mind. Her charm might not hold out for much longer with more and more reality shifts, so she needed to make sure she didn’t forget who she was while she tried to stop the source of the anomalies.
Come to think of it, hadn’t she been mentally addressing herself with feminine pronouns all this time? Dennis cursed; she should have caught that earlier. Also, it seemed the changes were progressing quicker than she’d feared.
Opening her eyes once more, Dennis saw wavy curtains of shimmering golden hair framing either side of her vision. Her hair had definitely lengthened after her initial transformation, but hadn’t she been a brunette just a few seconds ago? The changes must really be moving fast.
Keeping her sights on the Latina and her boyfriend with what appeared to be an old-fashioned camera, but trying her best not to alert them to the fact that they were her targets, Dennis reached for her pistol and slowly made her way over to them. However, her long, pink-painted, and finely manicured nails only grasped empty air at the side of her rounded hip where her holster should have been. The last reality shift must have erased it from existence. Dennis would have to handle this with hand-to-hand if things got ugly.
Blushing at the bizarrely arousing sensation of her tight, lacy panties squeezing against her inverted sex with every hip-swaying, breast-bouncing step, Denise edged around the side of her targets’ peripheral vision and was almost in reach.
Wait, ‘Denise?’ Hadn’t her name been… Wait, what was her name, again? ‘Denise’ felt right, but that couldn’t be it, could it?
“My name is Denise Wills,” she thought to herself, trying her best to remember her key identity facts. “I’m thirty years old… Wait, wasn’t I thirty-six? I must be getting younger! That’s not such a bad thing, actually. No, don’t get distracted! Where was I? Oh, right, I’m a man, no matter what I currently look like, I’m left-handed, I think, and I’m a field agent for the Supernatural Defense Division. I’m attracted to… Something tells me I should say ‘women,’ but nothing really appeals to me about them anymore. That cute man over there, though, he looks like he could show me a good time, what with the package he’s rocking… No! That’s not… What’s happening to me?!”
Denise gulped as she blushed deeper at what she’d just though about a man. Her nipples stiffened, arousing her further as they poked against her bra. Her new sex (or had it always been that way?) felt increasingly warm, and a little moist to boot.
The changes were getting much faster. Looking back to her targets and feeling a surge of panic, Denise lunged for the camera, mentally reciting the last bit of her key identity facts as she did so.
“My favorite food is a rare steak, or maybe a fruit salad,” she thought frantically. “My favorite film is Pretty in Pink.”
Denise at last grabbed the camera, yanking it away from the two who had been changing everything around her and causing this whole mess. They looked startled and then angry, the Latina reaching to grab the camera back.
Denise hurried backwards, but the surge of reality-altering energies flowing from the camera proved to be too much for what was left of her overworked anchor charm. The stone had been humming gently and warmly between her two enormous breasts, but now it cracked and shattered.
“No!” Denise gasped aloud, if that even still was her name anymore.
“My name is Destiny Wills,” she thought in a rush, trying to remember her mantra, though it became harder by the second. “I’m twenty-five years old, I’m a woman, left-handed, and I’m an exotic dancer for the SDD, the Sexy Den of Delights, a ritzy club downtown. I’m super attracted to men, my favorite food is a fruit salad, when it isn’t a juicy cock, and my favorite film is whatever romantic comedy I last watched.”
Something about that mantra didn’t feel right, but Destiny had other things to worry about at the moment. The angry Latina lunged towards Destiny, and so she instinctively snapped a photo with the odd camera she’d just grabbed.
The look of shocked horror on the Latina’s face was changed to the lusty gaze of a large, muscular man with a well-groomed beard and a stylish outfit. He looked at Destiny with a glint of recognition, and it took Destiny a moment to remember why.
“Want a ride to work?” Destiny’s boyfriend asked, sliding a beefy arm around her trim waist and pulling her close. She felt a surge of warmth flow through her as the side of her bosom squished against his firm chest, the warmth and a bit of wetness particularly strong about her sex.
“I have the day off,” Destiny giggled, licking her lips. “Why didn’t you give me a ride home, and I’ll give you something in exchange once we get there?”
Something muddled still screamed at the back of Destiny’s mind that something was amiss about the whole situation, but she silenced it for now. There would be time for worrying about that later.