Stella most certainly did take care of you, as best she could, given the unprecedented circumstances. The two of you stayed home that day, you continuing to lie on the impromptu mattress and Stella staying near when she could. Although the intense pain of your changes had thankfully subsided, you still felt incredibly sore from the ordeal. Your fuller thighs, smaller calves, dainty feat, and the compact, open mound between them tingled at the slightest movement, not to mention jiggled. You tried to convince yourself that such sensations were merely the natural response to so much bodily stress and fatigue, but there was something else to the sensations gnawing at the back of your mind, even if you couldn't bring yourself to admit it.
Stella would peer out of the closed blinds every so often and report what she saw, which mostly consisted of empty streets with the occasional wary-looking passersby in a hurry, most likely neighbors making a quick jaunt for essentials or to check up on nearby friends or relatives. Mostly, the two of you simply watched the television for any updates, but after an hour or two of the same news bulletin rerun, you left the TV on but muted the broadcast. Every other channel ran the same emergency notice.
As frightened as the two of you were, though, at the very least, you were in some small way relieved that the worst of it seemed to be over. Whatever was going on, no matter how hard it would be to adjust, looked to have finished. In the coming days, months, and even years, society could hopefully learn to deal with if not outright reverse these changes.
At least, that's what you hoped... Until the pain started up again.
You tried to deny it to yourself at first, telling yourself that the soreness you felt in your upper body was imaginary, a worry made to feel real. When it gradually intensified into a full-on ache an all-too-familiar way, you tried your best to hide your clenched teeth and pained expressions from Stella and muscle through, as if this were nothing more than the early stages of a cold. About three hours later, though, you couldn't help but wince and gasp when trying to readjust yourself into a better sitting position.
"Andy..." Stella began, clearly not to let her worry show anymore than you, but having about the same amount of success. "What's wrong?"
The way she spoke told you that you both already knew the answer, and so you simply grimaced and whimpered, huddling and wrapping your throbbing arms around your pinprick-riddled chest. You tried to bite back tears when the action not only nearly sent you into a painful spasm, but your weakened arms felt somehow thinner, more brittle, against pectoral muscles that felt far puffier than they should have been.
Stella fetched a blanket for you, biting her lip and clearly straining to wear a smile. You tried to rationalize your way through this as she wrapped the comforting shawl around your already narrower shoulders, sitting next to you and wordlessly holding you close. You wanted to thank her, tell her that you loved her, be as strong for the both of you as she was being, say that this wasn't anything life-threatening, that everything would be alright, that you'd make it through this together... But the searing agony squashed all of those sentiments into a hot, wet, wracking series of coughs, each sounding higher-pitched than the last. The awful feeling of helplessness hurt more than the physical pain by a long shot.
This bout of aches and shifts seemed to be progressing along much faster than the earlier bout. Perhaps your body was more acclimatized to the ordeal and getting it over with as quickly as possible, or maybe whatever was causing this was getting better at its job. Regardless, over the next hour or so, the changes accelerated drastically.
The gurgling nausea in your stomach pushed you to the edge of vomit but never quite crossed, instead drawing everything inwards rather than pushing it all out. You could feel your waist slowly yet surely cinching tightly together, slimming down into a much narrower configuration. The way it felt, you imagined your already much wider hips would soon look and feel enormous in comparison. Furthermore, the smaller space available pushed organs into new places, jostling everything together, even as they felt like they too were shrinking and reshaping, finishing whatever the below-the-belt changes had started in regards to what must be your new womb.
You nearly cried at the thought; you were growing a womb. In fact, it was probably finished growing by now. If everything was functional, then very soon a new life might start growing inside it. Your new pussy, ovaries, everything... You'd never again have sex through any sort of thrusting, any sort of planting your seed... If you ever did have sex again, not that you'd want to with such a foreign form, you'd be on the receiving end of all of that.
That thought did make you cry out, as much from the agony as anything else. Even worse, though, was the growing sensation at the back of your mind, ever-increasing, growing ever louder and gradually seeping into the rest of your consciousness. The feeling of... It was hard to describe. Warmth? Dampness? A sort of... Need? Hunger? Eagerness, even? Whatever it was, no matter how hard you tried to stomp it out, the thoughts only strengthened.
Another spurt of rasping coughs disentangled your shaky limbs from hugging yourself so tightly, and you could see as well as feel any excess muscle mass or fat withering away in your arms. Forearms, biceps, even your fingers slenderized. That was nothing compared to what was happening on your chest, though.
Finally pulling your arms away from your torso felt like it had opened the floodgates. The puffy, too-soft feeling in and on your pectorals had already given way to a bit of fullness. Now, though, whatever masculine tissue had been left in your upper torso converted fully. The formerly flat and firm ballooned outwards, expanding with ever softer, ever fuller, ever bouncier, ever heavier masses of flesh. The bizarrely pleasant sensation of their growth forced you to arch your back as if for a long overdue stretch, causing your still-growing curves to rub, stretch, and eventually tear your overtaxed T-shirt.
You could feel the cool air tickle the hairless smoothness of your newly exposed anatomy, bare for all the word (or at least Stella) to see. It was undeniable, now. You had breasts, and very large, very full-figured ones at that. On your smaller frame, they felt positively gigantic.
The changes at last accelerated into a crescendo. Your neck tightened much as your waist had done, your face smoothing away all stubble and blemishes, cheek bones rising, cheeks rounding a bit. Your lips felt as if they were forcing themselves into a pucker as they plumped. Eyelashes thickened and lengthened, as did your hair, which felt as if it was exploding out in long, flowing locks to cascade down your back, splash over your slimmer shoulders, and splay over your new bosom.
At long last, the searing pain dulled to an ache, which itself faded into a taut soreness. Glancing up wearily at the clock, you saw that about three hours had elapsed since the second wave started. Looking down even more wearily, you saw the torn tatters of what remained of your T-shirt, struggling to cling to your explosive curves, washed over intermittently with your long, thick tresses. At least you couldn't see your pussy anymore, you thought bitterly.
That thought was soon twisted by an onrush of that odd sensation that had been building at the back of your mind all this time, seeping into your every conscious thought. The unwanted but still very present and increasingly impossible to ignore thoughts flooded through you, reshaping your mind, your very being, becoming a new part of you.
Pussy... You had a pussy now, hugged on either side by soft, full, sumptuous thighs. And breasts, boobs so huge they obscured your view of your lower half. You had a cinched waist, a voluptuous ass, probably a cute, if not sexy face, accentuated by full, kissable lips... Sexy. You were sexy. A hyper-exaggerated ideal of feminine sex appeal.
The more you thought about it, and you couldn't stop thinking about it, the more the warmth, the wetness... The need... The more the new thoughts aroused you. You could already feel a hot dampness welling between those full thighs, deep in your new, slick pussy. You could feel a tingling buzz in your bosom, and wondered what it would feel like to have them caressed, kneaded, squeezed... To be kissed on your pillowy lips, embraced by some tall, strong, hardened figure...
You tried to fight the thoughts. You turned to look at your wife, to see a teary-eyed Stella hugging you tight. You loved her. You did. You found her sexy as well... Or rather, you had... Try as you might, you couldn't feel any hint of arousal when looking at, thinking of, or feeling her. You would NOT give into these new sensations, this new need... This growing hunger between your legs, demanding to be sated, to be filled with a hard, girthy thickness, to hug that thickness between your hot, slick folds, to coax it to finally release itself inside you...
You gasped, a mixture of surprise, disgust, uncertainty, and incredible arousal burning and bursting within you as you felt your new pussy rapidly clench and unclench, gushing fluids. Your first female orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, but it wasn't enough. Just a fantasy... You needed the real thing.
Other aspects of your mind were shifting, also. More slowly, but undeniably. Behind the constant undercurrent of arousal, of wanting to have sex with some virile man, you could feel other parts of your personality, your very being, shifting into new versions of themselves. Everything from tastes in movies to favorite foods, from fears to ideas of fun, from favorite colors to sports teams... If you would even find sports interesting at all once this was over... It was all shifting. You were becoming a new you. Still you, just... different.