A tide of ruddy green washed through your shapeless gray mass. Starting at the finger pressing [ORC].
You snapped back the arm. The digit seemed out of place with its increasingly detailed definition and girth compared to the rest of the vaguely humanoid hand – but that was changing. Your grip around the wrist was forced apart by the expanding heft and you had to struggle with the weight to keep it clutched against your flat chest. A task that became easier when the tectonic shift of upper arm muscles had settled into rough and bulging expanse. Although you were distinctly leaning toward one side.
With the see-through screen replaced by a three-dimensional representation of you, the out-of-body experience you were having hit another level. It mimic’d your movements, like a mirror, but the slow rotation didn’t help the sense of vertigo. More screens appeared on either side of the realistic model. Customization options.
Saying goodbye to the blank and expressionless face you felt, and saw, it sculpted into a familiar enough visage. The tusks were new. So were the pointed ears. And the wild and untamed mane of dark red hair. The lack of fat rounding out your cheeks and face gave you a few seconds of a curious pause. Didn’t fit in at all with orcish transformation, still nerdy just less... schlubby? Even if it wasn’t a real word, it had fit you to a T. Leaving aside the preppier version of your face, there were other things to worry about.
You caught sight of hints of greenish areolas and nipples puffing up on either side of your muscular arm. You breathed a sigh of relief when several layers of armor materialized out of thin air. Yet the steel breastplate and padded gambeson couldn’t entierly hide the two globes of flesh growing underneath. They were accompanied by a helpful reinforcement to your trapezoids and back muscles. Along with your second arm coming in, so long as you stood still you were fairly certain you wouldn’t fall over.
Seemed your character had defaulted to the [Warrior] class. A screen listed the options and starting equipment. Knowing you’d regret it, you changed over to the Bikini armor option.
A blush crept up your cheeks.
You shifted your gaze a few inches down on your spinning replica. Seeing how your stomach bubbled and smelted into craggy and rock-hard abs.
The flimsy and tassled chainmail excuse for leg armor started to feel incredibly uncomfortable when the steel rings were consumed between your thick buttocks and riding ever higher on the swelling and muscle gnarled tree trunks masquerading as thighs. It preserved your modesty; if only just.
Having seen everything you needed, returned to the standard armor set.