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#1: Alien TF, Tardigrade/Grub TF, Sequel

Catalina stared longingly at the captain's chair.

She knew the captain - not particularly intimately; but the VSC Steadfast_was something of a small vessel, so everybody _knew everybody onboard. She was most familiar with the sight of them occupying their seat; facing the helm, overlooking a bevy of workstations set a level down... All of which were empty; just like the captain's seat.

The damage report Catalina had seen in the genetics lab said the bridge was gone - and she supposed that was... Mostly true. Looking upward, she could see stars and far-off nebulae - the hull that formed the ceiling had been completely torn off; cracking open the bridge like a can of GalaCo rations. Understandably, the entire bridge was voided - exposed to the cold vacuum of space... Which Catalina had come to experience as a gentle tickle.

Looking back downward, Catalina finds herself staring down at an unfamiliar expanse of blubber and flab set beneath rubbery, off-white skin. Strange as it was - this was what had become of her body. It'd only been an hour since she underwent her... Metamorphosis, so she still wasn't used to it. Hell, she still wasn't used to seeing it. Whenever the pronounced curvature of her smoothed-over breasts came to intrude within her field of vision, she flinched - such a reaction made her wonder if she'd ever grow accustomed to a form like this.

Even if it had its benefits - the foremost of which being her ability to exist in the depressurized bridge - she'd noticed her fair share of detriments. She moved noticeably slower than before - tangibly hindered by the weight of her new form. Part of her hoped that the artificial gravity of the ship would be deactivated to mitigate this, but... She supposed it was a little better that it was still operable. Even considering that she'd been making a cautious advance through the voided halls, she still felt like she'd wasted a lot of time.

Another setback came when she had to reroute her trip from the lab to the bridge - an airlock malfunctioned; only opening halfway... And, offering only a two-foot-wide gap for her to cross, forced the mutated woman to find another airlock to advance through. Accustomed to her... Prior build, Catalina was tempted to try and squeeze through - but a simple survey of her newfound bulk made the impossibility of the endeavor clear.

Among the most recent inconveniences of Vekk biology she found came when she arrived at the bridge. Before investigating any of the navigational consoles or operable workstations, she made her way to the captain's chair. Exhausted from her trek - her first instinct was to sit down and rest...

But; with the seat being sized for a human, she found her plump, alien ass too wide for the narrow seat - feeling the arms dig into her soft buttcheeks and forcing her off. Thus, Catalina was left to stare longingly at the captain's chair... And silently bemoan her new size.

Catalina made her way down a set of steps, into the workstations - some of which still had power. Admittedly, she felt daunted by the amount of... Knobs and buttons on each of them. There was something... Scary about them she couldn't quite place - but beyond that concern, she had little faith in her ability to operate any of them. Nothing seemed marked - at least not clearly. She was a scientist, sure - but she wasn't trained to operate anything on the bridge.

Passing one screen, she saw it flash - drawing her unblinking eyes toward it. It strobed white for a few moments - before solidifying as a message.

"Hello."

Catalina tilted her head; her mandibles flexing soundlessly in the airless void. There was a keyboard set onto the console before her - so she carefully entered a message.

"Helo" She quickly punches enter - then winces at the misspelling. She hadn't caught it as she was entering it, even if she was looking right at the screen.

"I cannot find records of a Vekk among the crew of the VSC Steadfast. Are you a member of the crew? Y/N"

Catalina looked down at the keyboard - trying to find a Y. Was this keyboard different than hers, or...? Whatever, she found it. "Y. Who ar" Wait, where was Y again? Damn it. "U?"

"I am the personal assistant and tactical informant to this ship. User-friendly sobriquet: PATI. Please state your name and designation."

Ah, PATI. She was used to hearing her announcements; but not quite used to interacting with her. It felt a little strange doing so like this, but... She supposed the vacuum left her with no choice. Catalina could feel her mandibles clicking pensively. "Ct"... That came before the 'a', right? "alen." Good enough - now, how did you spell xeno-... Xeno-bye-... Her position? Scratching her head with her chitinous hands, she hastily punches in "Crew."

"Referencing. No entry found for crew member C'talen. Indexing..." Eh? That didn't sound right. "Complete. Good evening C'talen. May I help you today?"

Unwilling to waste any more time, she begins to type. "Ship dameg. Other ppl?"

"The VSC Steadfast has received considerable damage as a result of a celestial event. Relative to their positions at the time of impact, I calculate casualties equal to 60% of the crew." Catalina could feel her heart sink - at least; she thought she could. The pulsing and shifting of her new biology made it hard to place a reaction as visceral as that. "Relative to their positions at the time of impact, and relative to the number of dispatched escape pods, I calculate that the remaining 40% of the crew has successfully evacuated, and are undergoing planetfall as we speak. Do you have any further inquiries, Ct'alen?"

Truthfully, she had plenty - but she had trouble putting them into words. She knew she was alone on this ship - which, as far as she was aware, was aimlessly drifting. Her mandibles continued to click as she stared at the screen - overcome with a sense of anxiety. She survived the impact and survived the depressurization; but she couldn't just stay here. Nervously, she types "I wan to go hme."

"Registering." After a moment of consideration, PATI continues. "Damage to starboard engines 3 and 4 and port engine 7 severely limits this ship's navigable range... Calculating course." Catalina leans closer to the screen. "Request plausible. ETA: approx. 372 hours."

Catalina jumps up - or tries to. Her legs don't properly leave the ground; instead, she feels her bulk lift just a bit; then come down forcefully - jiggling for a moment after her jubilant leap. She leans forward, planting one palm on the keyboard and hastily typing with the other. Unaware of her... Misinputs, she enters "/uoo/jjo; thnkz"

"My apologies. Sol Common input devices transliterate Vekk Tonal poorly, but I am able to discern your appreciation from your message." PATI replies. "Please remain safe during our transit, crew member C'talen. I will remain at your disposal should you need me."

Catalina felt odd - she wanted to smile, but... Her anatomy couldn't manage it. Reaching down, she runs a hand across her stomach - feeling frost building up on her doughy flesh as her perspiration freezes over. Taking PATI's words to heart - she leaves the bridge - feeling her belly tense beneath her fingers. She couldn't tell what prompted the reaction - her continued exposure to the void or what, but... The closest thing she could liken it to was hunger.

Though confused - she felt like the simplest answer, in this case, was probably the best. Pulling the handle of the nearest airlock, she made her way to the mess hall - as close to the core of the ship as it was; she hoped it was untouched.

---

Catalina struggled through an airlock as air rushed past her - marching past the pressure being sucked into the void behind her; feeling the unsupported weight of her body getting sucked backward... Until she made it to the other side, and hastily yanked the lever to shut it. Compared to when they open, the airlocks shut quickly - a sharp grinding noise preceding a heavy slam as they cut off the pressure. Spreading her mandibles, Catalina gave a low, shuddering sigh.

When she tried to breathe in, she found the air in the hall... Scarce - but quickly replenishing. It gave her no small amount of confidence that the oxygen synthesizer was still active - but there was something about the air that felt different. Even once she moved into a more properly-ventilated hall, there was something about it that felt stale as she breathed it in. It was as she walked that she began to notice how different the simple act of breathing was for a Vekk - compared to how she'd been managing in the void. Each breath came heavily and phlegmatically - entering her body with a snort or sniffle, and exiting with a wheeze. At first she prescribed this to the exertion of returning to an area with life support, but the heaviness of her breathing didn't stop - even as she arrived in the mess hall.

As she hoped - there were no airlocks active; so the hall was untouched... Somewhat. There were plates still on the tables - and food still on the plates, half-eaten. Some dishes had been knocked on the floor - she could see a defined boot print in a pile of mashed vegetables - leading toward the entrance; and presumably over to the escape pods.

Making her way over to one of the tables, she felt her stomach wince again as her beady eyes fell upon a plate. Sitting in a pool of gravy was a loaf of meat; the likes of which the chefs had never been clear about the origin of, and Catalina had, frankly, never quite enjoyed, but... As hungry as she felt, she figured it was worth a shot. Her body had been through a lot - she was sure she'd been working up an appetite.

At first, she reaches for a fork nearby - catching it in her chitinous fingers, and...

Eh...

What did she do with this, again?

There was a tickling sensation in the back of her mind - she chittered and growled as she looked at the thing, recognizing its relevance, but not its utility. Her stomach flexes again - this time reverberating around to her sides. Frustrated, Catalina casts the weird device aside, and picks up the meatloaf in her hand. She can feel the gravy roll down her palm; travelling up and down the defined segments of her flesh as she moves it closer to her mandibles, which spread in anticipation. She can feel a rung of small teeth dig into the soft meat; securing around it and lurching as the food is dragged into her gullet. Her mandibles click shut to seal her mouth over, and she chews - or... Tries to.

Her mouth and throat seem to have blended together at some point; lined with sharp teeth she seemed to have some sort of control over; extending them in time with the constrictions of her throat as the food makes its way into her stomach. She doesn't quite taste it - but its... Presence inspired her to seek out some more. She found a little bit of difficulty with the rest of her plate - the small, beaded vegetables and the mashed stuff wouldn't fit neatly in her hand, but she did manage to find a few more pieces of meat. Some of them had bones - but admittedly, the sensation of something hard and firm rolling down her throat made it a little more satisfying.

Her meal was underscored by two sensations - the first being that ominous throbbing; which seemed to grow stronger around her sides, and the second being a growing feeling of moisture across her skin. Even ignoring the food residue on her hands - she could see a fine gloss overcoming her skin; settling as a somewhat greasy layer over her flesh. It wasn't until she noticed the texture of it that she became aware of a growing scent in the air - beyond that of her meals. It wasn't a scent she could easily place or describe - but she felt like it... Meant something.

Giving a warbled sniffle, she could discern some alien quality of the scent that bore significance beyond words. It made her feel... Hungry? Uncomfortable? No - she already felt that; but the scent somehow conveyed the information that she did.

With a warble, she plops herself down on a table - feeling her wide rear dimple in. Previously she'd been tempted to take a seat on one of the benches, but they were attached to the tables - too close for her to fit. She hadn't really realized it before, but she seemed to stand at a considerably higher vantage than before; able to easily take a seat on the table itself.

Once more, her stomach and sides winced - and she gives a displeased screech. Looking down - trying to crane her neck past the intrusive rotundity of her breasts - she looked down to the blubbery folds of her sides, reaching down to feel them... And in doing so, comes into contact with something hard.

Giving a more curious chirp, she palms her fat again - feeling something pressing against the softness of her skin. Following the sensation, she looks over; and through the veneer of her milky skin, she can see a darker shape; curled up beneath her flesh. The longer she looked, the weirder the sight became - and as her body throbbed again, she could see it unfurl into a star shape.

She could feel it unfurl. Tentatively, she attempted to tighten her muscles again - and managed to flex it shut again. Her moment of curiosity quickly turns into a period of delirium - as her vision seems to go askew. The tubby Vekk wobbles on the table - kicking her legs up and dizzily warbling as the world around her goes cock-eyed and blurry - first from one end, but soon balancing - if only momentarily. She finds herself falling backward as her vision is hiked up; coming to rest gently on the soft folds of her back. Her head swims - unable to shield herself from the sights - but it isn't too long before she finds her vision correcting itself... In part.

Her field of vision has... Changed, she realizes. Tentatively raising a hand before her face, she realizes she can follow it as it moves around to the side of her head; visible even as her hand nears where her ear used to be - and moving upward, finds her field of view extending past her brow and nearly to the top of her head. Tracing a finger across her face; she finds herself bumping into new protrusions - and judging by her newfound sight, she quickly realizes she's become the owner of two new sets of eyes - one beside, and the other above her original set.

And yet, it fails to abate the discomfort in her stomach - having hastened through the process of developing her new eyes - now becoming a repeated, pulsating sensation; pounding away at her sides. She can feel something inside of her - not simply passively; but a new group of muscles she found herself in control of. When her stomach lurches - she flexes, trying to liberate the new growth; as surreal as it feels, she can feel a part of herself pounding at her own skin.

The Vekk yeowls and strains - and curiously; watches the central roll of her stomach begin to bulge out. A protrusion forms; one she, with delirious fascination, finds herself in control of, twitching and rolling around the inside of her skin. With another pulse, she beats against it - and watches as a single chitinous digit pokes free. Another pulse, another pair of digits spring from a widening tear - and with a triumphant bellow, she flexes the newly-formed muscles and watches the top membrane upon her flesh tear open - revealing a fresh, glossy new fold of flesh beneath - but more than that, revealing what had been growing within her.

Resting upon her stomach; tired and strained, was another pair of arms; covered in the same greasy slime that now thinly coated her skin. The fragrance now filling the air spoke of relief, as she tentatively flexed her new fingers. Her new set of arms were visibly similar to the first; however...

Positioned lower than her original pair, she experimentally reached downward - managing to overcome the rotundity of her stomach. Chittering dazedly, Catalina ran a new hand across her thigh. She was surprised with her new range of movement, and moreover, how easily she adopted the new growth, but... She supposed that was only natural. Vekk could have up to six arms, she distantly recalled - and it wasn't like they had any trouble using them.

Catalina gave a low warble, remaining on the table - free of the discomfort of her growing limbs, she felt relieved and full. While she'd only really eaten what was made available to her, she was confident that there was enough food left in the mess hall to sustain her for the next few days... Or, what did PATI say? Three hundred-something hours?

Admittedly, she couldn't muster up the desire to do the math - after all, there was no use stressing about it. She'd get there when she gets there. Until then, she didn't have anything to do but wait.

Feeling her new hands rubbing her thighs felt... Strange; but, she supposed that was something that underlined the whole of her experiences with her body... Something she was already growing rather weary of. Not her body itself - but the strangeness of it. If she had so much time, she figured - she'd behoove her to get used to it.

She raises her upper pair of arms and, with a low, rolling chirp, places them upon the soft surface of her breasts. She was surprised to find the sensation somewhat plain - she expected it to feel a lot better, but... She didn't know what to expect. Simultaneously, her lower arms heft up her stomach; and one arm moves lower, between her legs, and-

There she finds a sensation she expected. A sharp cry escapes her mandibles - finding her finger trekking across a surface of firmer flesh. It felt strange in a way she couldn't quite describe - dragging her finger from the outside of the... Aperture inward, she runs across a few ridges; laying flush against the surface of her skin for the most part, but the innermost segment venturing intward. Wheezing excitedly, she guides her hand further inward - and as her muscles twitch, she finds the flesh bowing outward somewhat; extending to sit flush against the palm of her hand.

Before she ventures further - she flinches; hearing a bassy warble boom through the room around her. At first, she figures it's distortion - but as it repeats, she can tell that the scratchy noise is something... Familiar. It sounded like something she'd said - or that she could say. Tensing her throat, she tries to repeat what she heard - parroting the warble.

In response, it repeats; and this time, she can discern something from it. In the same sense as how the scent she'd noticed conveyed information - so too did the noise. Curiously - she attempted to vocalize her confusion... And as she did so - put into 'words' who she thought was speaking.

"Is that PATI?" she chitters out; following with a husky cough.

The speakers respond in the affirmative. It takes her a moment, but she can discern... Phrases from her words. "Yes... Estimated... System..."

Sniffling a little, she responds."Please speak slowly. I don't understand."

After a pause, PATI resumes in the odd, chittering dialect. "My apologies." the Vekk woman understands. "My preset for Vekk Tonal was utilizing transmission speeds for Dominion Tonal. Is this more appropriate, crew member C'talen?"

Raising one of her higher arms to scratch at her head, she responds "Yes."

"I am glad. I wished to inform you that we have entered the Fermi-II system. Estimated time of arrival to your destination will be approximately 369 hours. While it poses no threat to you, I must remind all crew members that prolonged exposure to the solar radiation of the Fermi-II star is highly dangerous, and that we will be passing through several radiation belts through our journey."

Fermi-II? That was-... That's... The Vekk woman uses her lower arms to sit herself up, while her upper pair brace pensively over her chest. She couldn't say why - but that seemed wrong, somehow. "Where are we going?" she warbles confusedly.

"Having indexed crew member C'talen with limited information, required fields were automatically populated with the standard template of the Vekk species." PATI begins."Your request to return home prompted me to reference the homeworld listed in your file. Sternguard Lambda." The AI pauses for a moment before inquiring "Has there been a mistake? It is critical that any necessary connections be made promptly due to the damage the ship has incurred."

Has there been a mistake... The Vekk woman wants to say yes, but she isn't prepared to say why or how. Her home - her homeworld; when she tried to think of it, her head went hazy - prompting her, unbidden, with imagery of craggy slopes, brackish water, noxious mists and... Great, beautiful spires of shell and bone. Sternguard Lambda... She chirps dreamily; her lowest hand drifting back around the surface of her thigh, under her stomach and-

"Crew member C'talen?"PATI muses.

"Yes!" she yelps. "No - yes... There... Hasn't been a mistake." she chitters out.

"I am delighted. I will keep you informed as we continue our journey." With that, PATI goes silent; leaving the Vekk alone and wheezing. After a moment of silence, she speaks again.

"PATI?"

"Yes, crew member C'talen?"

With her mandibles clicking nervously... C'talen muses "Can you inform me when we pass through the first radiation belt?" She can feel a sense of giddiness swelling in her chest.

"Logged. As you wish, crew member C'talen."

Once again given some silence, C'talen leans back on the table; a resonant hum rising from her throat. Letting her mind drift off into a fantasy of those green mists, she guides her hand back beneath her stomach and between her legs... Eager to return home.

#2: Chav TF, Downgrade, Sequel

"Heiress Goes Dark!"

When the headline first broke, it set conventional and social media ablaze. Outlets and individuals had been doggedly following Cassandra Mannsbury - inheritor to the fortune and operations of Atlas Developments, and a voice of elitism heard nationwide. A voice that, in the wake of another in a long line of interviews addressing her scathing disdain for the lower class, was suddenly silenced - with no indication of why.

Few took to the buzz about Cassandra's disappearance more than her own social circle - who had likewise been blindsided by her scarcity. Though the... Masses made wild assertions about her cruelty and unfriendliness - Cassandra Mannsbury was not a woman without companionship. She was a known quantity among the London elite - known to galavant about clubs and high-rises among her ilk; among whom her beliefs rang true... Whether they were vocal about it or not. More important to them than her ideological standing, however, was her fortune - with her companionship being a transitory path to it.

Though willing to flirt about those who only saw her as a walking bank; she surrounded herself with a different caliber of companion. Among her most intimate friends were those she connected with on a personal level; women of the elite that, in her scrutinous eye, were worthy of standing as her peers.

Among the closest, in this regard, were two women in particular - Michelle Rossi and Hannah Averies. Michelle was the daughter of an Italian art dealer; whose fortune lied in the galleries they owned worldwide, and the auctions they conducted. Michelle herself was largely divorced from her father's business - choosing to reap its benefits, and enjoy the life of the idle rich; one he was more than happy to provide for her. Hannah, on the other hand, was the daughter of Argos Security's CFO. As her mother before her, she was being groomed as a woman of business - beyond her friendship with Cassandra; she had her sights set on a comfortable position within Atlas... One she finds herself vying for her foremost concern amid her friend's disappearance.

Their relationship with Cassandra had provided them with a sense of confidence in their relationship with Atlas - one they came to realize, following Cassandra's disappearance, wasn't as close as they thought. They found themselves in the dark - their inquiries to the company and its executives were rebuffed; the same as everybody else's. It was at that point that they came to realize something was wrong - if Cassandra had any say in the company's actions, they wouldn't be treated like everybody else.

Of course - the two of them did have more resources available to them than most. Money, to them, was disposable - and they were quick to dispatch it in the interest of getting to the bottom of this anomaly.

It had been a month since Cassandra's last interview before their efforts finally bore fruit. Having sunk somewhere in the neighborhood of £100,000 into private investigators, payoffs, and quid-pro-quo arrangements with a select few... Morally flexible members of the public - they managed to reconstruct Cassandra's last day in the public eye. The two understood that she was under a great deal of stress - so neither of them were shocked to find out that she paid a visit to her favorite boutique; but after leaving, she didn't seem to return home.

They managed to track her from the west side of the city to the east; and while they didn't pretend to know her daily routine - the fact that she was travelling so close to areas where she'd typically want to... _Revitalize_before visiting made them suspicious. When CCTV footage of her vehicle ceased - GPS data tracked her to what became her final destination. The two were confident that having her location would help drive their investigation forward - hopefully to its end.

It wasn't long after this discovery that they were contacted by a representative from Atlas. Though the timing was convenient - they were told that the company was finally willing to speak about Cassandra; to them, and them alone.

Unwilling to let such an exclusive invitation pass them by - Michelle and Hannah were arranged to be picked up for a private meeting that evening...

However, as they were driven, they came to realize that they weren't going to Atlas' offices, or the Mannsfield estate - or anywhere they anticipated to meet. Rather; they found themselves driving ever-eastward...

But this realization was secondary to the sudden scent of gas in the back seat of their ride. Finding the doors locked, and the driver silent on the other side of their sealed window - the two were helpless as they drifted off to sleep.

---

Michelle awoke slowly. Her drugged slumber didn't yield its grip upon her consciousness easily - keeping her trapped in the aether between sobriety and dream. She had lapses of awareness - if not clear registry of her surroundings, then a distinct sensation that stood out against the void. Fabric rolling across her skin. A sharp chill pressing against her back. Tightness around her. A blur of light and shapes. Sensation stood disconnected from thought - further dazing the drugged woman until it ceased; until it provided for a chance for her to acclimate to her surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was how cold she felt. Her skin was dry and riddled with gooseflesh - she could feel her nipples standing stiff and perked atop her breasts. It was this chill that made her aware of her nudity - something that made her lazily thrum and attempt to cover herself...

However, this action came with a revelation of its own. Trying to lift her arms prompted them to strain against a form, smooth surface; binding her wrists to something firmer. Opening her eyes, she found herself beholding her own body; seated upon a silver chair. Upon her wrists, and around her upper arms sat a set of black restraints - testing them again; she figured they had to be leather. Experimentally, she attempted to sit up - only to find her ankles and thighs bound similarly.

With this came a modicum of sobriety - battling back the grog of slumber. Her heartbeat began to quicken as she began to panic - her eyes moving quickly from gazing lazily at her environment to hastily leaping from landmark to landmark.

Michelle's seat seemed to be the focus of wherever she was - set beneath a glaring white spotlight. Any attempts to look upward burned at her irises; forcing her gaze down and away. A perfect, even circle of light illuminated the grey floor around her - covered with textured rubber that clung to the soles of her feet.

At first, she thought she was alone - but she picked up on a soft murmur behind her.

"Hey- h-hey, who's out there?" she yelps; her voice briefly turning shrill.

A mumble serves as her initial response - followed by a somewhat husky query. "... Michelle?"

It doesn't take the posh woman any longer than a moment to recognize the voice. "Hannah?"

Quietly, Hannah mumbles an affirmative "Yes." After a moment of silence, she continues. "I-... Ah... Where are we...?"

Furrowing her brow, Michelle spits "Don't know. Too dark to tell. It's- whoever picked us up brought us here. It wasn't Atlas-"

Scoffing, Hannah interjects "How astute."

"Oh, piss off." Michelle hisses. "I'm just catching you up. You sound like you just woke up."

"I'm still working on that, actually." Hannah grumbles. "I just need to get my strength back and-" She yawns lethargically. "we'll be well on our way out of here."

Rolling her eyes, Michelle sits back. "Yeah?" she challenges. "What're you going to do, bore them to death? Think about this for a second- who the hell are we dealing with, here? A gang? Terrorists? A slavery ring? For all we know, these could be the same people that took-"

Before Michelle can finish, a chime resounds around the room - a soft, synthetic rendition of a bell. The two women reflexively look up; but are once again stymied by the lights above. As they're reeling from the brilliant light - a new voice joins the conversation.

"Greetings and salutations, Ms. Rossi and Ms. Averies." Droning and androgynous, the voice seems to spread evenly through the room - not echoing or reverberating; giving no hint as to the scale of their present surroundings. "We hope you slept well, and we apologize for any discomfort you have experienced or are presently experiencing."

"Piss off," Hannah spits. "don't waste our time with hollow apologies - where the hell are we, and what the hell do you want with us?"

"And where are our clothes?" Michelle continues. "I don't know who you are, but my blouse alone is worth more than your salary. If you so much as tore a single _fucking_thread of it-"

The enigmatic voice continues over Michelle's threats. "We appreciate your pragmatic demeanor, Ms. Averies. As expected of a woman of your stature." it thrums. "If your acquaintance would be so kind as to behave, we will gladly explain the situation at hand."

"Behave!?" Michelle shouts indignantly. "You kidnap me, and expect me to just play along? Do you know who I am - do you know who my father is!?"

"Michelle!" Hannah chides. "Just- shut the fuck up for a second and listen."

Biting her lip, Michelle growls. "Fine! I'll let the fucking robot talk."

Promptly, the voice replies "We thank you for your cooperation." As Michelle glowers in her seat, the synthetic voice continues. "As we explain; we implore you to think of this situation not as an unfortunate product of chance; but rather as a product of causality - a destination your actions have delivered you to."

Michelle scoffs, and Hannah utters a soft "Shut it."

"And yet, to contextualize your situation in such a way urges us to more deeply examine those actions - what has been done, and why. Those whom we represent have carefully followed your... Curiosities, of late; and have found them to be, in a word... Noble. We have deduced that your investigation was prompted by the disappearance of Ms. Mannsbury. Motivated by friendship, you both have undergone great financial and temporal expenditure in the effort of locating her and, failing that, exacting retribution upon those involved in her disappearance. The fact that this has come from a place of kindness has been taken into consideration, and as an aside, is something we are sure Ms. Mannsbury would find rather flattering."

Quietly, Michelle mutters to Hannah. "I don't think they were involved. Clearly they don't know Cassie very well." Hannah chuckles softly - but she's interrupted as she finds her seat lurching beneath her. Michelle gives a dizzied "Whoa-" as she feels the chair move forward - guided, along with the spotlight above - across the floor. A mechanical whine reverberates through the room - underscored by displeased murmurs from Hannah, who she can hear is getting slightly further away. Eventually - the chair stops, and jarringly jolts to one side; prompting the woman to rock in her seat as it begins to spin.

Looking around, Michelle quickly notices something else coming into her field of vision - standing starkly out against the otherwise all-consuming darkness of the room. She sits up in her seat as she recognizes what it is - Hannah; bound to a seat much like her own. By the time the chair finally stops moving, the two find themselves staring opposite one-another... Which, though initially comforting, quickly becomes distinctly uncomfortable.

Michelle quickly tries to avert her eyes from Hannah - though is already unable to purge the sight of her nude friend from her memory. It was plain for all to see that Hannah was a rather pale woman - with dark hair and a slight frame... But she saw quite a bit more than she'd bargained for. Her alabaster skin extends nearly across her whole body - save for an occasional mole. Just like the one that rested beneath her lip - a beauty mark, Hannah was keen to assert - Michelle caught sight of one beneath her left breast. Her breasts, of course, weren't anything to write home about - it was an old jab of Cassandra's that Hannah always looked better in a pantsuit than a cocktail dress. Her thighs, however, were a little supple - Michelle just wished they weren't spread; the last thing she'd wanted to see today was her friend's bare pussy.

Hannah, on the other hand, wasn't so phazed by her friend's state of undress. In fact - she was a little more focused on it; be it a misplaced sense of suspicion or a dulling of her wits under the influence of the sleep drug. Michelle's skin had a rich, olive tone - she tanned well; something she was always eager to flaunt. She'd always been curvy - another point of pride - but she'd always asserted she it was just her birthright to be beautiful. From her luscious curves to her chestnut-toned hair, she insisted she was all-natural...

But looking over her breasts; standing suspiciously weightlessly upon her chest... And was that a shadow, or were those scars...? "Oh, you lying bitch." Hannah whispered. To say she'd been envious of Michelle's figure - even Cassandra's - was an understatement.

"Huh?" Michelle murmurs, looking carefully back to Hannah; trying to keep only her face in her field of view. "Did you say something?"

Before her friend had a chance to respond, the voice returned. "Despite the nobility of your actions, those whom we represent feel as though there is a message worth conveying to the two of you." it resumes. "Ms. Mannsbury became the subject of a public outcry as a result of her moral and social shortcomings, and as such, has been granted a chance at rehabilitation - a sabbatical, if you will, which we are confident she would not wish to be interrupted. While this does come at the expense of your companionship - this is not entirely undesirable for both parties. In fact - your bonds were, in part, a result of a shared fragility within your moral fiber."

Having gotten just a little more used to the light, Hannah looks upward. "You're not making any sense."

"Ah - perhaps it is in our best interests to get to the heart of the matter." the voice thrums. "Those whom we represent believe that your lifestyles have taken a toll on your moral and social wellbeing - but not one that has entirely taken root, as was the case of Ms. Mannsbury. As those whom we represent are charitable and benevolent, we are to deliver a message - one we implore you to take into consideration, and one we will provide for you an opportunity for you to grow from, rather than provide rehabilitation in the same sense we offered to Ms. Mannsbury."

A mechanical whirr returns to the room - Hannah sees the source appear first; a panel in the floor rising and sliding away, exposing a mechanical arm rising from the ground. Beside it, another panel shifts and another arm begins to rise - this time drawing the attention of Michelle.

"We hope you will come to understand the gravity of Ms. Mannsbury's situation through this message - and hope you will come to realize that it is in the best interest of all parties to remain apart."

The arms lean in closer to the two women; each one tipped with a plastic nozzle. They level themselves around their chests - after a quick puff of air, they begin to spray. Michelle gasps at the cool, oily liquid impacting her skin - feeling it unevenly gather and roll down her flesh in wet droplets. While her first instinct is to look down - she begrudgingly looks over to Hannah to see the process repeating on her chest. The fluid covering her skin is a colour she can't rightly place on the border of orange and brown - too ruddy to be the latter and too vibrant to be the former. After the arms' nozzles move downward, and after the fluid seems to settle - she can see Hannah's small breasts covered in a cheap, fake tan.

"Oh, hell - get it off!" Michelle cries, watching the arm working on her lower itself down to her stomach. The arm moves in a ring; running across her sides - and she can feel it sticking to her back - managing to get into the gap between her body and the seat behind her.

In her seat, Hannah tries to close her legs - seeing the arm move lower - despite her deep-seated envy for Michelle's beautiful tone; she was absolutely aghast at how they'd come to match. The orange-tan tone looked horrid under the bold lighting of the spotlight - and she dreaded how it would look in any other setting. "Fuck - fuck, whe-when I'm out of here, I need to take a shower - ten showers; a chemical shower..." She anxiously whimpers to herself; watching more over her body disappear under the horrid fake tan.

It quickly dawns on the two of them how little control they had over where the arm reached - and while they had no plans to make it any easier on the machine; they realized they couldn't make anything harder if they tried. Strapped to the chairs, they could only wait until the arms finished up their legs - then moved over their arms; painting over them with all the grace of a sprinkler system. Hannah felt emboldened when she felt some of the oily fake tan running beneath her leather restraints - but try as she might, she couldn't leverage the slickness to slip her hands out... And, when she felt the stuff dry out, she started to worry if she'd just worked it into her skin a little more.

The arms stopped spraying after they finished coating their arms - looming closer to their faces. Michelle whimpered as the nozzle targeted her nose; and she heard a gentle click resound from somewhere within the device. "Please, close your eyes and mouths. The process will be over promptly." Michelle was the first to comply - wincing her eyes and mouth shut - seeing her do so gave Hannah the cue to follow suit. When the nozzles resumed spraying, it wasn't in the broad shower they'd been using before - instead using small, fine bursts. They could feel the fluid coat their faces - their foreheads, their cheeks; everything down to their neck, connecting with the rest of them and trapping them in a horrid shell of orange-tan.

"You may now open your eyes." the voice chimed.

Hannah did so first - and as she did, she shrieked. Looming over her friend's head was a spindly bundle of smaller, finer mechanical arms - at first, it looked like a metal spider preparing to take a bite out of the woman. Her cry made Michelle jolt up, blurting out "What!?" fearfully - but quickly, she yelped too; noticing a similar device hovering over her friend's head.

The two quickly find their hair seized by a set of combs; small arms raking their way through their hair - but, as the women watch the arms work on their friends; the devices didn't seem to be smoothing their hair out any; rather... They just seemed to be making things worse. The arms combed and crossed over each-other - with each pass; seeming to make things more difficult. Hair would tangle - split ends would develop - making Michelle and Hannah wince as the combs catch on each little knot. More than the texture of their hair was changing, however - so too was the color.

Having already dealt with the oily fake tan; they could feel some sort of fluid spreading across their hair - rolling down now-frayed strands; transmitted even further as a layer of grease grows apparent on their once-immaculate locks. Michelle winced as she watched Hannah's hair lighten - a yellowish, peroxide blonde tone imperfectly consuming her previously-black color - leaving her roots brownish-black, and leaving some strands darker than others.

Hannah, on the other hand, could see Michelle's hair changing by a matter of degrees at first - shifting from brown to auburn, and then... Red - not ginger or a natural shade of reddish, but bright, brilliant, fire-engine red. The arms seem to fan out - having much more area to cover; as Michelle's locks spill just past her shoulders. Their efforts of messing up her hair bear fruit quickly - making it appear tossed and mussed - but the arms retract not long after the brilliant red shade seems to lock into place. Hannah breathes a sigh of relief - expecting hers to do the same...

But, to her chagrin, they don't seem as easily finished. The arms seem to gather her hair - shorter; ending just past her chin - and begin to bundle it up; knotting it into a sloppy bun, secured with a black hair tie. Strands stick awkwardly out of the brown-blonde mass sitting nearly flush at the top of her head - and she can feel it shift with every slight movement of her head.

They'd been so scared by the initial presence of the spider-like hair 'care' device, and so distracted by the indignity of how it was paving away at their appearance that the two women failed to notice how the initial arms had retracted - and that they weren't alone in the room anymore. There was a soft rumble; one Hannah only picked up a moment before a figure came into view.

Pushed between the two seats was a small, flat cart - upon it was a pair of simple laundry baskets. All they could make out of the figure pushing it was a pair of gloved hands - which quickly disappeared into the darkness surrounding them. Michelle could hear heavy footsteps on the rubber tile moving around her - prompting her to speak. "Hey- who's there? Is that- are you real? Are you a person- human, or...?" She squirms in her seat a little - trying to look behind herself.

Hannah could see the white glove return; reappearing beside her friend's throat, with a small, plastic tube. Quickly, they prod Michelle with it - making her jump.

"Hey! God - what the hell is wrong with you?" she growls. She tries to look around again - but her movements grow sluggish. Hannah could make out that she was having a bit of difficulty looking from one side to the other - the now fiery red-head seeming to slump in her seat. "What did you do? H-hey, I'm talking to you -"

Unfazed by Michelle's griping, the figure crosses through the spotlight on their way to Hannah. Dressed in a hazard suit, their form is obscured - and, with a detached and clinical demeanor, they jab Hannah's neck with their tool as well. She can feel a prick - lasting no longer than an instant; succeeded by a distinct feeling of... Heaviness coming over her. The corporate heiress dreads what's to come, as she sees Michelle slumped almost lazily in her seat.

A moment passes quietly before the two can hear boots return once more. Michelle and Hannah expected the one that had drugged them to return - but were surprised to find an entire crew of... What they could only speculatively refer to as people enter the spotlight. Michelle felt a spot of hope as she saw them reach for her restraints, unfastening them...

But, once her arm was free, it refused to obey her commands. She wanted to lash out - to strike the white-suited thugs surrounding her and make a break for the door, wherever it was, but... Try as she might, her body remained immobile while the crew continued to free her. So terrified by this, she could only muster a shaky "G-get your hands off of me!" when they reached around her sides - lifting her up and out of the seat, and pulling her closer to the laundry bin.

"Your arrival is quite serendipitous, Ms. Rossi. These clothes had just arrived for processing - so, in that regard, they are prime for this endeavor. If you should seek to pass along your gratitude for this fortunate coincidence, we will gladly let Ms. Martin know." the voice explains

She didn't know what they meant by 'processing' or that they were... Better for this - whatever they were doing - but when she saw one of the suited figures reach into a bin and withdraw a pair of white panties, she gave a guttural "Oh hell." If she could still move, she would have kicked and screamed to keep the garment away from her - as it came closer, more details became evident about it - the white tone wasn't uniform; rather, slightly yellowed along the crotch. It felt warm sliding up her legs - and despite it now covering her sex, she felt more dirty with it on than off. As they brought a bra closer to her; a scent tickled her nose - acrid and stale; she could smell sweat upon it. Even knowing what the fake tan felt like as it was being applied - she still attributed a freshly-greasy sensation upon her chest to the garment - which didn't fit well at all. It pushed up her breasts and constrained them tightly, prompting her to grimace.

Looking over to Hannah - she didn't seem to be faring much better. The crew was fitting her with her own bra - an elastic sports bra; the armpits of which seemed visibly darker than the rest of the garment. Her panties were seemingly in worse shape; a prospect Michelle found hard to fathom - noticing a couple of dark, curly hairs having wound their way into the otherwise white fabric.

The sight made Michelle's stomach turn - a reaction she felt redouble when they began to pull out more from the bins. Each of them received a pair of elastic, tracksuit leggings - Hannah's being black, and Michelle's being red with a pair of white stripes; which served only to highlight the stains upon them. Hannah received a matching track jacket; zipped as far up as it would go - but Michelle wasn't so lucky.

The first thing they pulled out was a simple tube top - a garment she could easily posit used to be white; barring the stains across the breasts and beneath the arms. She felt her hair mussed further as they squeezed her into it - and evidently, not all of the dye had dried; leaving a red mark around the neck. It, like her bra - was a little too small to appropriately contain her breasts; leaving the valley of her cleavage deep. While that felt ghastly enough for Michelle - what followed would have made her pale, were here skin not covered so thickly with fake tan.

What came next was a white, furry jacket - and she didn't need to see the black mark on the arm, yellowed tone, or the darkened, fused plastic of the faux-fur to know that it previously belonged to a smoker. The scent about it was radiant - wreathing her in the scent as it slipped over her arms.

Having been dressed, the crew eases the women back into their seats. "So, what," Hannah blurts out, looking downward. "you wanted us to play dressup? When we're out of here - and we will get out of here - we're going to take them off."

"And burn them." Michelle chimes.

"This is but an element of the message, Ms. Averies." the voice replies "A preface, if you will." The crew reaches into the laundry baskets once more - this time pulling out a number of plastic... Guns? They seemed to have a silhouette like one - but they didn't have triggers, so much as they had nozzles; like the mechanical arms' sprayers. "We apologize in advance - but the message we intend to deliver will be of the lengthier variety; but we hope that it will resonate more poignantly because of that."

The crew looms closer to Michelle - one member raising one of the woman's arms, and the other beginning to spray something across her wrists. Once they've made an even circle, the wrists of their jacket are pressed against the solution - with a quick tug, Michelle grimaces... Finding the jacket clinging to her skin.

A bead of sweat rolls down her forehead as she realizes what they had in mind - and, as they shift to her other arm, she gives a low, plaintive whine.

---

Michelle awoke slowly. Her drugged slumber didn't yield its grip upon her consciousness easily - keeping her trapped in the aether between sobriety and dream.

Once more, sensation is what tethered her to the waking world - namely, the sensation that she was moving. She tried to open her eyes - and found herself, initially, in the dark regardless - inspiring a sense of fear, which in turn drove her into motion. Her first reflex was to sit up - and in doing so, found herself suddenly blinded by light on all sides of her.

Holding her hands over her eyes - she takes a moment to adjust to the light; an easy feat, as the bleary brightness gives way into shape and definition, and...

Her hands. Her... Gaudy, orange-tan hands; and the plasticine, red nails glued to her fingers. Her face curled into a sneer - as her memories quickly returned to her. Memories of... Getting kidnapped. Bound, covered in all sorts of chemicals, dressed in horrible clothing; and worse - used clothing. She hadn't even had the chance to give herself the hope that might've been a horrible nightmare before being forced to face the horrid reality of it all.

The last thing she remembered was being paralyzed, and put back to sleep. Her heartbeat began to quicken, and she looked around - her sneer dropping as she surveyed her surroundings.

An easy feat, given how confined they were. It was a mixed blessing that she found herself in a familiar setting - in the back seat of a limousine. Furrowing her brow, she couldn't help but find it familiar still - it had to be the same one that picked her and Hannah up-

Wait, Hannah! Looking around, she could see her friend on the seat opposite - lying down on the seat - her face disgracefully wedged against the fabric. Leaning forward, Michelle tries to reach over to her - but in the process, finds herself stepping over some garbage on the floor. A few empty bottles of beer littered the seat - a couple in cupholders; others rolling about on the floor - bumping up against a few tamped-down or crumpled-up bags of crisps. If her clothes weren't enough to make her feel dirty - the state of the car certainly made the sensation a little more... Thorough.

Michelle's hand lands on Hannah's thigh, shaking it hastily. "Hey! Wake up - wake-"

Hannah snorts, rolling over a little. "Nnnnnuuuuooooh." she groans balefully. Her hands reflexively reach up to her chest; covering it for a moment before she opens her eyes. "Wuh- wah... Who- who're--!?" She confusedly sits up - and Michelle quickly lays her hands on her shoulders.

"Michelle." she asserts. "It's me - we were kidnapped, remember?"

Evidently, she doesn't - at least not immediately. Rapidly shaking her head, she sits back, grumbling. "Oh Christ alive - that... That happened, then."

Rolling her eyes, Michelle sits back down. "No, you stupid bint, you're still dreaming." she spits harshly. "Wake-" She takes a quick, panicked draw of breath. "Wake up already, I think- I think we're free."

Hannah reaches up to her hair; sneering as her own fake nails cut through her greasy, bunched-up locks. "Ooooh, god." she groans nauseously. Turning her attention to the window, she can see buildings passing by - not the slums they'd been led into before; rather, a more vivacious side of the city. It seemed to be midday - so there were plenty of people lining the streets. "If we're free, then... Where are we going?"

The question hung in the air for a solid minute - long enough for it to become clear that Michelle had no answers. Looking to the window, herself, she began to recognize her surroundings - she wasn't too far from one of her father's galleries. She scooted closer to the window, looking around to see if she could make it out, and...

Not only could she, but she could see a crowd outside of it. Was there some sort of exhibition? It didn't matter to her; people were people - and the limo was getting closer to them. "Hey! Hey, heeeeey!" she cries, pounding against the window. "In here! Hey!" Confused at first, it takes a moment for Hannah to notice the crowd - the moment she does, she shoves over to the window, pounding against it too - trying to get their attention.

Excited by the idea of freedom - or at least sparking some sort of inquiry - the two were elated to see themselves getting closer to the crowd; to the throng of people - to the photographers lined up outside the door, like...

Like they were expecting something...?

As the limo pulled up to the gallery, Michelle's blood ran cold. She didn't see her father out front - but she could see photographers beginning to snap pictures of the limo. Hannah, however, was still waving out to the crowd from the inside.

"Hey - Michelle? Michelle!" Hannah hisses. "This is it - we're free!"

A queasy sound left the red-headed woman, and she tried to shrink back into her seat-

But that just gave Hannah a chance to reach for the door handle. Grasping it in one hand, and snagging Michelle's wrist in the other, she shoves the door open - inviting in the sound of a murmuring crowd and innumerable flashes from cameras and phones alike. Thrusting herself out of the door, Hannah knocks a couple of beer bottles out with her - causing one to shatter on the blacktop and another to skitter across the pavement.

Michelle had only a moment to utter "Wait-" before she was pulled out of the car as well - and into the eye of an expectant public.

In that instant, she knew that they weren't let free - they were being offered up on a silver platter - it had to be part of that 'message' their captor was blathering about. Just as Cassandra had her outrage...

Michelle and Hannah were about to have some headlines of their own.

#3: Wii Fit Trainer TF, Twinning, Slob

Lisa stared pensively at the cardboard box before her. Seated on her couch, fingers steepled over her lips, her eyes bear down upon the sharp scrawling of sharpie emblazoned upon the side, leaping across the gaps formed by creases in the material. The black ink formed a message that, to most, would seem innocuous and ignorable - but to Lisa, set her mind ablaze with musing. The words were simple, but confounding, reading only:

Wii Fit+U

Lisa fancied herself a collector. First and foremost a collector of more... Traditional videogames - classics, popular titles, or just games she had a vested interest in. However, she relegated a specific portion of her collection to more... Arcane artifacts of the industry. Odd ports, controversial releases, or... Anomalies.

Such was the case with... Wii Fit+U. Spring was among the more fruitful times of year, as far as her searches went - due in no small part to the advent of tag sales. If she had a day off, she'd drive around - searching for tables set up on lawns; littered with baubles, trinkets, souvenirs, the occasional outgrown car seat... And, on occasion, games. More often than not, Lisa found herself flipping through jewel cases filled with sports games of bygone years... But every so often she'd find a hidden gem; or at least something at a considerable markdown from the online marketplace.

Lisa's search today led her on a winding path; far out of her typical range of neighborhoods. The sight of a sign staked into the ground caught her eye - advertising a tag sale, with an address underneath. Even with the convenience of GPS, signs such as these served as guideposts - leading her to the final destination of the sale itself. Even before she approached, she could tell something about it was... Strange.

The house itself was seated on a hill far above the base of the lawn; and the driveway, leading its way up to the garage, was empty. Its lights were dark and its windows drawn - something she would have easily excused if the homeowner was attending to the tables they'd set up, but...

They weren't.

Nobody seemed to be supervising the wares they had out for sale - in what Lisa could only presume to be a show of trust. Cardboard boxes neatly lined the pop-out tables sitting just beside the sidewalk; each one bearing some label. Most were open or unlidded - all except the one that eventually drew her eye. The one she had come to own.

Wii Fit+U

Lisa had almost missed the little '+U' when she first laid eyes upon it - drawn to how it was closed up, unlike the rest. When she saw the little descriptor in its entirety, it stoked her curiosity further. What could it be, she wondered? She recalled Wii Fit Plus for the original Wii, and there was a Wii U release at some point - did whoever owned it just mistake one for the other, or did they accidently mark both?

With her curiosity nagging at her, Lisa began to unfurl the cardboard flaps; each one laid upon another. The first discovery she made was that of the scent - carried on the cool spring breeze. The contents of the box smelt... Stale; enough to make her wrinkle her nose. Reaching down into the box, the first thing her hand brushed against was soft and pliable - grasping it, she pulled up the corner of a white rubber mat - its surface textured with small, fine dots.

Pulling it out further, the mat itself was bigger than she anticipated - nearly four feet across, and disproportionately heavy. It seemed to be folded from the outside in - gathering over a firm; more solid portion in the center, with a base of hard plastic.

Buried beneath it was a white plastic case - the likes of which she recognized, even lacking cover art, as belonging to a Wii game. Folding up the mat again, she opened the case - but the disc inside wasn't at all what she was expecting. Its surface was silvery, and there was a bit of matte black material embossed upon it - one ring around the disk, and a little Wii emblem set beneath the central hole. In sharpie - like the box it sat within - it was marked Wii Fit+U.

The strangeness of the box; of its contents, and of the sale offering it, swirled around Lisa's thoughts. But, even as odd as it was...

It was also being sold for ten dollars.

Ten dollars for something that could either be junk, or some sort of lost prototype? If not official, then a quirky homebrew project? Lisa couldn't argue with that. With nobody to collect the money, she planted a ten dollar bill on the table; pinning it under a copy of Donkey Kong Country she found in one of the other boxes.

When she returned home - she immediately set to work preparing to experiment with her 'prize' - setting up her Wii U, clearing some space in front of her TV - and changing into something more appropriate for the game... If it was anything like she was expecting. If they wanted her to do yoga or something, jeans wouldn't quite help - but she did have a few pairs of sweatpants that'd give her the flexibility she needed.

When her preparations were complete... All that was left to open the box again.

Wii Fit+U

The scrawling on the box still concerned her. As enticing as the prospect of something... Unique was, she couldn't ignore that this might be for naught. If not that - then something that might damage her system. Her face scrunched up as she reached for the box - spreading its flaps once more, and inviting that lingering, stale scent into her apartment.

She laid out the mat in front of her TV, smoothing out the rubber - which seemed to quickly rid itself of any creases, even without her input. With that set, she popped the game out of the case, and slid it into her system - which accepted it mercifully without issue.

As she stood before her TV, she caught a reflection of herself on the black screen. Her hair - a shade of sandy blonde much closer to brown - hung just past her chin; straight and neat. A few freckles dotted her olive-toned skin - and beyond the light grey sweatpants she'd changed into, she wore a grey hoodie over a simple green t-shirt. Beneath her concealing clothing, she knew she wasn't the very portrait of fitness - a little on the lanky side; and frankly, she had no intention to change that. Hell - the only reason she owned a legit copy of Wii Fit was for her collection; it wasn't like she'd ever played it.

Even if this panned out into something - she didn't intend to play it very long.

With that, she turns on her system and her TV - grasping the controller in her hand expectantly.

The disk's title screen didn't seem promising - after the disk was read, it manifested as a white panel on the pad's menu - but, unfazed, Lisa hit it. Rather than fading to black - the screen faded away into an expanse of white. The system chittered a couple times as it read the disk - before finally presenting her with a title screen. Almost ominously, the game's title seemed to surface from the blank white screen - Wii Fit+U.

Lisa tilted her head as she heard something come through the speakers - a soft, rhythmic noise. It grew louder - closer - and eventually, its source was revealed. Walking in from the left side of the screen was a female trainer - the likes of which she recalled from the original games... And more fondly from their inclusion in Smash Bros. The trainer looked fairly similar from what Lisa could recall from those games - black hair, white skin, black sweatpants and a blue tank top bearing her navel.

The amount of detail on the model was... Somewhat surprising. Lisa looked at the trainer's face, and found it to a fairly plain, stoic facade. Her eyes bore no pupils, and her lips were settled into the slightest of smiles. However, looking downward, Lisa could see a lot of definition on her stomach - highlighting her navel and abs. Even lower - there was a surprising amount of detail on her feet; more than Lisa would expect from this system... Or this game. After all - the trainers were supposed to be... Examples for the players to follow - they didn't really need to have a lot of fine detail.

The trainer strode, barefoot, into the center of the screen, then turned to face Lisa. "Good afternoon, and welcome to Wii Fit, plus you." The trainer's voice rang out firmly - her tone strong and assuring, just as Lisa would expect. "Please take your position on the practice mat, and we will begin."

Giving a quick thrum of curiosity, Lisa moved over to the mat - her own bare feet stepping carefully onto the rubber surface; testing to see where the firmer parts would be. When she discovers them, she eases herself down onto her knees; settling herself in the middle of it. She wasn't sure whether she still needed her controller - or if the mat worked like a DDR mat or something.

On the screen, the title seemed to rise upward until it was out of frame - leaving only the trainer occupying the screen. "Excellent." she chimes, giving a thumbs-up. A few panels manifest along the side of the screen - quickly populating with a few numbers. "Please get comfortable while the vitality sensor gathers some information about you." Lisa isn't surprised to see her weight and BMI appear - but she balks when she sees her height pop up, followed by a heart rate monitor and BPM. Even more confoundingly... The final panel populates with a small gauge - reading Compatibility Rating, settling at 46%.

The trainer looks over at the gauges, then nods - her expression hasn't changed since Lisa started up the game. "Good job. Now, I'll try." Lines seem to define themselves on the floor around the trainer - cutting across the white expanse of nothingness until she's standing on a mat, herself. Her readings populate automatically - the numbers appearing in blue text instead of black. As Lisa expected, the trainer's numbers are all in... Well, what she'd assume to be prototypical 'healthy' ranges. Gesturing to her readings, the trainer continues. "This is my body. Every body is different, and everyone has different goals for theirs. Would you like to set your goals, or would you like to get into a warmup?"

No prompt appears on the screen - but Lisa hits B anyway, unsure of how the game will react.

"Excellent. For now, my body will be your goal. You can change this in the settings, later on." The panels the trainer's statistics were stored in seem to pan across the screen - bumping into Lisa's and merging with them. The trainer's numbers melt away - but Lisa's seem to adopt a faint blue tone - seeming to be a gradient between black and the blue coloration she'd seen before. "Now, why don't we start with some routine stretching?" The trainer kneels on the ground; mimicking Lisa's position, then extending her legs forward. "Follow my movements. Extend your hands and join the tips of your fingers," she begins - adopting the pose and leaning forward. "then stretch until you touch the tips of your toes. Hold for ten seconds, then return to your resting position."

Easy enough - Lisa stretches out her legs - her toes squirming a little. She leans forward, touching her big toes with the tips of her fingers... And, leaning so close to the mat, she catches wind of the stale scent again. It seems steeped into the mat, and... Admittedly, she regrets not washing it off first. It didn't feel sticky or look dirty, but the smell...

Looking up at the screen, she sees the trainer's soles presented directly toward her. In another odd choice of detail, she could see a lot of definition on the trainer's soles - the image, combined with the scent, made Lisa's nose wrinkle. When she sat back up, the trainer gave her a chime of "Good job. Now, again. Let's try for twenty seconds." Lisa winced and followed, continuing the routine. After she concludes it again, the trainer coos "Great work." Lisa arches her back a little; and admittedly, she already felt a little looser than before. Being given a little bit of praise, even for something so simple, made her feel a little better.

"Why don't we move onto a quick breathing exercise?" the trainer muses. "Proper respiration is important for a good workout." She returns to her kneeling position, and cradles her hands along her sides. "Follow my movements. Take a slow, deep breath in. Inhale for four seconds, hold it for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds. Ready?"

Lisa nods - and immediately feels stupid for doing so. It wasn't like the trainer _actually_needed a reply. Regardless, the alabaster-skinned woman on the screen continues.

"Inhale." she urges Lisa, and she does - in doing so, catching some of the scent. Her face sours - but what surprises her is the trainer's next order. "Savor the breath. Hold it, and enjoy it." What she she mean? Lisa kept her breath held, mulling it over; aware of the stale stink in her lungs... "Exhale." Lisa complies, letting the air rush out - and leaving her a little lightheaded. "Now, again. Inhale." She complies - once more met by the scent. "Hold. Savor." Lisa's eyes shut as she does it, counting the seconds- "Exhale." but the trainer guides her, regardless of her count. She breathes out - but feels like she's losing something. "Inhale." Again, Lisa complies - and is greeted by the scent again. Perhaps it isn't so bothersome - but just... Something she's getting used to. "Hold." Lisa smiles; and without being asked, enjoys the scent.. "Exhale." Lisa obeys; a placid smile on her face.

When she opens her eyes again, she looks over to the numbers. Oddly - the compatibility rating seems to have risen; all the way up to 48%. She wasn't sure what it meant-

"Great work." the trainer chimes, bringing Lisa's attention back to her. "Now, why don't we continue our stretches? Stretching is a crucial part of a proper routine." Lisa nodded - yeah, that sounded right. "Stand up, and follow my motions." The trainer stands, and raises her arms overhead - exposing the oddly-defined surfaces of her underarms. Lisa shakily stands - mimicking her pose. "Now, slowly bend to the left. Hold your position for five seconds, then return to recenter. Ready?"

Lisa nodded.

---

Lisa huffed as she sat on the pad; a bead of sweat rolling off of her forehead and onto the mat below. Though she'd begun to tire, she's reenergized by the trainer's eager chime of "Excellent job." She'd been through five routines of stretches already - and her muscles were limber, sure, but also a little tired. The workout was a lot more... Involved than she anticipated too - so she'd stripped off her hoodie, casing it off of the mat.

However, she did make one addition at the trainer's behest. "Long hair can get in your eyes, or stick to your neck during an intensive workout, creating discomfort and distractions. Make sure to properly secure your hair before working out." Lisa took those words to heart - watching the trainer remove the scrunchie binding her hair into a ponytail, and reapplying it.

Having grown so used to mimicking the trainer's movements, Lisa did the same - she had a green scrunchie in the pocket of her hoodie... But, she really couldn't remember putting it there. Her hair wasn't too much longer than the trainer's after all; so even if she didn't have a mirror on-hand, she imagined her ponytail looked similar, and... There was something she found nice about that.

Lisa watched the trainer kneel down on the screen, and Lisa eagerly followed, taking a deep breath and wiping some more sweat off of her brow. She felt gross - after she was done with her workout, she'd have to hit the showers. Or... Well, she really wasn't in this for a workout, was she? A bit of sobriety dawned upon her-

"You're doing wonderfully."

Then, the trainer seized her attention again.

"It looks like you're working up quite a sweat! That's a very good thing. Sweat is the sign of a good workout." Was it? Lisa looked down to her shirt, noticing damp spots beneath the arms and upon her chest. Beyond this - it seemed to be tighter against her body; riding up especially around her stomach. If that was a good thing - then yeah, she was doing great, wasn't she?

She takes a deep breath - as the trainer had guided her to do when she was feeling tired. The scent in the air wasn't stale anymore - but it hadn't gotten much better. It was perfumed with her sweat - but, as she inhales, Lisa isn't bothered. After all - proper breathing exercises helped her, and sweat was apparently a good thing. If the trainer's words weren't enough, her stats seemed to testify to her good work too - her height was a perfect shade of blue; and her weight and BMI were slowly lightening. Her compatibility rating was at 75% too - and that had to be good.

She wasn't the only one working up a sweat, either - she could see similar stains on the trainer's tank top; and a defined gloss of sweat across her skin, making her unblemished skin look shiny.

"Why don't we try some pushups?" the trainer muses energetically - and Lisa can't help but agree. With the white-skinned woman turning away, Lisa one more finds herself staring at her bare soles - perched on the simulated mat upon the screen. Lisa doesn't hesitate to lean forward, placing her palms on the mat and preparing herself; looking straight ahead at the trainer.

Admittedly, she hasn't really looked away in quite a while - after all, she did have to follow her movements. Lisa had been looking at the trainer, the screen around her, or the mat beneath herself for as long as she could immediately recall, but... She wasn't quite bothered.

"Now, ease yourself down. Keep your arms straight, and hold your position for three seconds before rising back up." Lisa complies, watching the trainer lower herself... And then watching her rise back up. Lisa can't help but admire her posture - her figure... She supposed it was appropriate that they picked her as the model for the game. Lisa had never been particularly envious of more athletic women, but...She supposed it was appropriate that the trainer's body was her goal.

"Down, again."

Lisa went down, looking down at the mat before her - another bead of sweat dripped down from her face - but this one seemed... Odd. It looked oddly dark; when it impacted the white mat, it seemed pinkish - but quickly faded away; becoming clear.

"Up, again."

Lisa went back up - looking up at the trainer; who seemed larger on the screen. Closer? It wasn't like Lisa was complaining - it made her easier to watch; and Lisa was eager to observe.

"Down."

Lisa went downward; her nose brushing against the sweaty-scented mat. A lock of hair intrudes into her field of vision - its color... Darker than she anticipated. It wasn't just dark - it was desaturated; a shade of greyish-black lacking any and all vibrancy.

"Up."

Lisa rose up and winced - feeling her shirt strain against her body. The faint pain was enough for her to cast her gaze away from the trainer, who seemed even closer now, and toward her arm. At first, she was surprised to see the skin of her shoulder exposed - the fabric of her t-shirt having rolled up, or... Disappeared; leaving it sleeveless. However, examining her exposed arm offered a more surreal discovery.

Its tone was... Different. Rather than the olive tone she was used to seeing, it was a light shade of cream. Try as she might, she couldn't make out any freckles upon it either - the tone was smooth and even, and...

Strong?

"Down."

Lisa moved down, her eyes still on her arm. As she moved, she could see... Muscles flexing upon her pale limb - a sight that brought a faint smile to her face. It looked good - it looked right. She was working out, after all - it made sense that she would be... Fit.

"Up."

Lisa moved back up - and turned her attention to the trainer - who seemed to be less than a foot away from her. Lisa's mouth opened in surprise - but nothing came out. Distantly, she was aware that the trainer shouldn't be so close - or even on the same level as her. Wasn'tLisa supposed to be watching her on... Something...? Her eyes momentarily part from the trainer, panning to the side - catching a glimpse of a black border, having stretched far and wide around her... Before her eyes settle on something _much_more important.

"Down."

Lisa lowers herself with her eyes peeled on her statistics. Her compatibility rating was over 90% now - and almost all of her other statistics had settled on the proper shade of blue - identical or damned close to the trainer herself.

"You're doing great!" the trainer chimes; and Lisa shudders - rocked by a wave of satisfaction from the adulation. "Don't lose motivation now - the finish line is in sight! Now, up."

Lisa rises up, and looks over the trainer - who isn't just close, now. Lisa finds herself hovering over the trainer's palid body - sharing the same space as the woman. All around them, Lisa could see an unending canvas of white - interrupted only by the hovering statistics, and the black border... Which seems to be shrinking away behind her. Lisa takes a deep breath - and even in the open area, she catches the humid and heavy stench of sweat rising off of the alabaster-skinned woman beneath her. Looking directly below herself - she finds herself positioned just above the trainer's perched feet.

Lisa's eyes grow half-lidded as she drinks in the scent; hardly aware of the sweat pouring off of her - beads of cream-toned liquid rolling down her body; not even reaching the ground before they disappear into the aether. She can feel excitement welling up within her - but, her BPM stays in what she recognizes as a healthy range; something that she feels will never change. She can't deviate from her goals, now that she's reached them - that would be unhealthy. She can't be unhealthy - she was made to be fit.

"Down." the trainer utters in an oddly sugary tone.

The fit woman lowers herself in time with the trainer - and when she reaches the ground, she finds her face coming to rest against the trainer's feet. She can feel the slick sensation of sweat upon the pale soles; and her nose ends up wedged between both of them. The scent about them is absolutely radiant - potent enough to burn at her nostrils; cloud her mind... And as a warm sensation rolls across her flesh, the contact seems to leech away the last of the color upon her face, and reaching down to the rest of her body.

The trainer doesn't order her up for a while - letting her steep in the scent of her feet... All until the two of them hear an affirmatory chime; bringing the trainer's attention to the fit woman's statistics.

"Up." she orders - and a pallid, placid face rises up from between her feet. "Return to resting position."

The two women move in unison, returning to a crouched position, facing each-other. Their unblemished, porcelain-toned skin was covered in a glaze of sweat; and their matching outfits bore deep stains upon them. Well - there was _one_exception between their attire. The fit woman's clothes were still settling into their new form - her sweatpants had finally settled into the proper shade of grey, and bore a green band around the waist - matching her new tank top. The biggest difference was that it was blank - something the trainer knew wouldn't last long.

"Congratulations! You've met every one of your goals!" she cheers, motioning to the compatibility rating; finally having reached 100%. "How do you feel?"

The fit woman thinks for a moment - as if processing something... Before she speaks. "I feel wonderful." she replies - in the same confident, affirming voice of the trainer before her.

"Excellent. But, remember, reaching your goals is only the first step to fitness."

The fit woman finishes her sentence. "You have to continue to work out to maintain your figure."

"Perfect." the trainer stands up, and the other woman follows. "Why don't you lead us during this exercise?"

The fit woman freezes for a moment - caught off-guard. Her white, pupiless eyes shut for a moment, but when they reopen, she nods. "I will. Let's try some yoga. We'll start with sun salutation."

The trainer smiles placidly as she raises her arms, in time with the other woman - as the words Wii Fit etch themselves onto her tank top, she recognizes her as another trainer. Her momentary purpose fulfilled, she begins a workout with this new trainer - glad to have company to share this plane with.

Especially someone as fit as her.

#4: Weight Gain, Age Progression

"Magic mirror, on the wall - who is the fairest one of all?"

The musing echoed around the chamber - not merely as a result of the natural acoustics of the room; but due to the familiarity of the phrase.

Illuminated by candlelight, the evil queen stood before her ensorcelled mirror - watching eerie green flames lick across its surface; staring down the porcelain face chosen by the spirit of the mirror. It hadn't been long since she'd asked this of the mirror - her first response earning it her scorn.

The queen clearly recalled the sight of her pitiful stepdaughter on the mirror's surface - a maiden pure as the driven snow. A woman the queen took no quarrel in disposing of - no task was too great or too foul in the quest to satiate her vanity. Having returned from offering the naive girl a poisoned apple, the queen's heart was aflutter - as excited as the wicked woman could be. Already, she anticipated the mirror's answer; to simply return her reflection.

The spirit of the mirror leered as it processed the inquiry, and after a moment, began to speak.

"Gone is the maiden, fair as snow - entombed in glass in the Dwarves' meadow. Succeeding her title would be her stepmother..." The queen beamed, already turning away from the mirror. "Yet from another world - there comes another."

The queen's facade shatters; her smug facade replaced with one of utter fury.

"You lie." she hisses; the rancor palpable in her voice. "Show her to me."

The mirror's face fades into the darkness of its surface - and wreathed in its ethereal flames, the queen can see a scene take shape. A clearing in the woods - in its center, the glass case in which Snow White lay comatose. Flanking it were the Dwarves with whom she came to live - looking sullen; their hats in their hands. And yet - at the foot of the glass case was a stranger, the likes of whom the queen had never seen before.

The stranger was a woman - a young one, at that. Her hair was a strange shade of blue; darkening towards the roots. Her outfit seemed the strangest part about her - her shirt was sleeveless; yet she wore sleeves separately. Her pants cut off along the thigh, yet her boots - armored, furthermore - extended nearly to meet them; beneath a skirt that seemed only to cover her sides. Most peculiarly - she carried a weapon.

"Pray tell, mirror - just who is this stranger?"

The scene seemed to melt away from the mirror - its face manifesting once more.

"Her name is Aqua, warrior of light. Unlike your prior competitor - she may pose a fight."

The queen shrunk away from the mirror, bracing her arms pensively before her. The mirror's words were true - Snow White was little more than a feeble girl. This stranger... If she was some kind of warrior, then she'd be more troublesome to deal with - if not only in physical contest, then due to her... Resources.

The queen had exhausted her nightshade in concentrating the poison that trapped Snow White in eternal slumber. Nothing she had in her immediate resources would be potent enough to debilitate this 'Aqua'; and she didn't have time to complete a ritual for a similar effect. The queen glowered - deceiving her would be likewise tricky. Casting her eyes to her cauldron, only a scant bit of liquid remained. Vermillion in color, the oily fluid was that which she used to disguise herself as a simple old crone.

The vain queen shuddered at the thought of having to do so again...

But, upon further reconsideration, she realized she wouldn't have to. Fetching a ladle and a flask, she began to gather the remnants of her disguise potion.

"Oh great and powerful mirror," she begins - the fury in her tone giving way to a sense of smugness. "where is this Aqua now?"

The mirror's face fades away again - this time replaced with woodland. The stranger seems to be leaping over a stream in the shade of the dense canopy above.

"As I look upon the maiden in blue, it seems as though she's coming for you."

The queen smiles coldly as she wedges a cork into the bulbous flask.

"Far be it from me to keep her waiting."

---

Aqua squinted into the darkness ahead, bracing herself on a gnarled tree trunk as she tried to discern the path before her. When she'd first arrived in this world, she was... Put at ease, with how vibrant it seemed. The meadows were lush and colorful, its wildlife kind and expressive. Even venturing into the woods wasn't that much of a departure - not at first, at least.

The section of forest she now found herself in was nothing short of terrifying. It seemed as though the woods were dead - no leaves grew on these trees, and yet their wicked branches formed a canopy dense enough to shield it from the sun. Even for as lifeless as it seemed - the woods seemed to bear a strange life of their own. Be it a trick of the shadows or a more malicious force at work, Aqua could see anguished and rancorous faces manifesting upon the trees - and between them, she could see glowing eyes staring at her hungrily from the darkness.

Despite this, she continued on, undaunted. Aqua was here for a reason - and, beyond that, had assumed upon herself an even more pressing duty.

This world was but the latest in her pursuit of Ventus and Terra - one that had begun to wear on her patience. On one hand; as long as she'd been searching for them, the more she'd begun to worry... On the other hand - when she found them, she wasn't sure if she'd hug them or punch them.

While this was still the case - she arrived to find this world in turmoil. Its princess, a fair maiden by the name of Snow White, had been poisoned - her life was faint; doomed to endlessly slumber by the cruel queen of the land. With her companions, a kindly family of Dwarves, heartbroken - Aqua refused to let this stand. She swore to cure the princess herself - after all, Terra or Ventus would have done the same, if they'd been here.

Mercifully, her journey to the queen's castle had been uneventful. Even venturing into such a dangerous place hadn't yielded any particular threats - evidently, its bark was worse than its bite.

Aqua soon found herself in a clearing - a bit of sunlight filtered through the branches above, illuminating the trees ringing it. They seemed gathered in such a way as to nearly create a crossroads - and signs seemed to be crudely nailed to the dead trunks. Aqua reached up to adjust one - orienting it so that the letters on were upright and legible. 'Castle' was scrawled upon the sign - directing her to the east.

"I wouldn't go there if I were you." a voice called from behind her.

Aqua stiffened; reflexively extending her hand to manifest her keyblade. Turning around, she found herself facing... Little more than darkness. Leering, she addresses the source - wherever they may be. "I appreciate the advice - but I'm afraid that I need to."

The shadows seemed to shift - extending outward from the forest, into the light... Before Aqua realized she was looking at a figure wearing a cloak. It seemed composed of rough-hewn, black fabric, obscuring their features. "Then I trust you're aware of the dangers...? Intruding upon the queen's domain unbidden is a grave offense indeed..." The cloaked figure explained, her voice soft and feminine.

"I've seen her cruelty first-hand." she admits. "And that's something I intend to put an end to."

"Ohoho! Bold, aren't we? You wouldn't be the first to voice such sentiments..." The mysterious woman begins to circle around the clearing, approaching Aqua. "There are many that wish to see her dethroned, but none have managed to stand before her sorcerous might."

Aqua takes a step back from the woman - but she lowers her blade, listening more intently. "You seem to know quite a bit about her. Can you offer me any more advice?"

"Advice - oh, no..." she replies humbly, shaking her hooded head. "I am but a humble alchemist. I keep to myself, in the shade of this wicked wood. All I hear whispers of those who oppose the queen - and all I know is that the queen persists, and those who oppose her do not." The woman extends a hand from her cloak - revealing pale skin and dark nails. She reaches downward, into the confines of her garment. "But, perhaps I can be of some assistance..."

Aqua tilts her head, allowing the woman to come closer. The keyblade wielder watches as the woman fishes out a bottle - containing a reddish liquid.

"Some say only magic can truly stand against magic. I carry potions such as this to ward myself from arcane influences... Perhaps it can be of some help to you?"

Tentatively, Aqua takes the bottle in her hand, watching the oily concoction shift within its glass container. Her brow furrows a little; her stomach turning as she watches it. While this seemed strange... Aqua had to admit, this world had been kind to her thusfar. It seemed as though the queen was the operative source of darkness in this realm - its other denizens were rather benevolent. It seemed... Appropriate that another denizen would offer her such assistance.

Smiling a little nervously, Aqua accepts the potion. "Thank you - you've helped more than just me today." she affirms, turning away.

"It's my pleasure, dear. You'd best drink the potion soon - its components will become inert soon; and the effects last considerably longer as you metabolize them." Behind Aqua, she steps backward - slinking back into the darkness.

Nodding and uncorking the potion, Aqua turns back to thank the alchemist again - only to find the clearing empty. While a little chuffed at the sudden disappearance... She found solace in not having to feign liking drinking the potion. The appearance alone told her enough about it - it wasn't anything she wanted to smell or taste, but she trusted the alchemist's word in its utility.

Her keyblade dematerialized from her hand - and, using her now-free hand to plug her nose, she drinks the potion. It isn't a small amount - forcing her to swallow down several gulps of it. It ran like oil across her tongue and down her throat, making her queasy from its texture. The taste lingered on her tongue - it was... Potent, but mercifully, not entirely disgusting. It tasted like mint, pepper, and burnt sugar; making her nose scrunch as she tried to void her mouth of the flavor.

Taking a few steps eastward - Aqua quickly realized that the potion had taken effect; feeling it drop, like a physical weight, into her stomach. She moved a hand to her chest, lurching a little - and feeling a heat begin to pervade her body. She waited for the sensation in her stomach to fade - and while it did, the heat continued to plague her. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, despite the coolness of the dead forest around her - something she prescribed to the potion simply... Working.

"I wish she could've warned me about that." she huffs, fanning herself and marching onward.

The forest continued to wind around her - with wooden signs continuing to lead her way; usually after a little adjustment. More than once, Aqua felt like she was being led around in circles simply because one had been repositioned or flipped upside-down - and her trip was starting to get... Tiring. She hadn't been in this world long, but the walk seemed to be taking its toll - and the potion wasn't making things any better. After another hour of walking, Aqua felt like a sweaty mess - her hair was sticking to her forehead; and her clothes were uncomfortably moist... Not to mention tight. The former she could explain - but she wasn't sure what was causing the latter. She found to ease herself down - adjusting her corset and loosening it up just a little.

Even if that quick adjustment made things a little more bearable for a bit... It didn't take long before she needed to adjust it again. Aqua huffed - both in frustration and breathlessness - as she began to untie it; removing it entirely to survey what was going on beneath it...

Aqua couldn't help but gasp when she saw what lay beneath the corset. Her shirt seemed to be bulged out; the thin seam that separated it from her shorts having grown into a considerable rift between the garments. It wasn't that her shirt was shrinking - but rather, her stomach seemed to be growing. It was noticeably larger; and as she placed her hands upon the flesh - she could feel it dimple in just a little. Squeezing it a little more firmly; she felt her flesh bunch up into a fold - emphasizing her now-exposed navel.

"What the-" she begins, removing her hands - as she does, she watches as her stomach bulges out further; making her shirt rise up a little more. The growth seems to ripple from her stomach outward - her skin quaking; and tangibly expanding as the sensation flows outward. Aqua winces as she feels the sensation reach her chest - the crossed bands over her breasts pinching tighter against her.

Aqua had been... Changed, as she'd entered certain worlds before - but that seemed to be part of the transition from one realm to another; never as a delayed effect. Her mind leapt quickly to blame the potion - but she wasn't sure how. Was it affecting her differently because she was from another world? Was it brewed improperly? Or... Aqua felt a chill roll across her, making her sweaty skin feel clammy.

She couldn't deny the possibility she'd been deceived. In fact - she never quite learned how Snow White had fallen into her sleep, had she...? Aqua's lips pursed as she felt her stomach swell up again - now falling over her shorts as an even layer of pudge, while her thighs formed a similar border of flesh beneath the legs of her now-constrictive garments.

Aqua dropped her corset - having already become useless. Standing up, she felt odd; her exposed, sweaty midsection jiggling slightly from the movement. She moved to continue - but, as she did, a wince of pain struck her; lighting up in the small of her back.

"Ah-" she grunts, reaching behind herself and rubbing the sore spot; though the momentary massage she gives herself doesn't penetrate deeply enough to truly soothe the pain. A little more slowly this time, she sets off - following the path to the castle... She hopes.

Her warping body only makes her journey more complicated - the added weight alone would have set her off-kilter; but that was but a solitary factor in a series of distractions and alterations being made to her body. It wasn't just that she was getting heavier - an important factor was in where the weight was gathering. Aqua had to make careful, mincing steps - her shorts simply weren't adequate to accommodate her thighs as they continued to grow.

After crossing a ravine - Aqua heard a sharp tear; and she found, to little surprise but an abundance of horror, that the legs of her shorts had torn all the way up the seams; even the seams of her boots coming apart under the growth. The flesh that came free wasn't soft or delicate - but instead pockmarked by cellulite; sagging somewhat, now free of its restrictive support. The remainder of her shorts had practically become a secondary layer of underwear - shrinking deeper into the recess of her crotch and rear as the flesh around it expanded. A tentative and shameful touch to the surface of her butt revealed that it, too, had suffered the same fate as her thighs - sagging and riddled with divets, which only seemed to grow more profound.

The weight didn't seem to just be a tax on her agility - but on her stamina. As much as she wanted to pick up her pace; her body rebelled against her. Even a short walk between signposts began to fatigue her - causing her breath to come out as ragged huffs, and decidedly... Unbecoming gasps. She took quick rests - which grew longer as the strain penetrated deeper into her body. Her armored boots put more strain on her sore ankles than she anticipated; and even the act of getting up from a quick rest was a laborious process she had to prepare herself for - or risk another flareup of pain from her increasingly-sore joints.

She did, however, take these rests as an opportunity to adjust her outfit appropriately. She had to do away with the crossed straps around her chest - her breasts had engorged; and while - for the moment - contained in her shirt, whose fabric had begun to ride up to the point of resting just beneath the greatly expanded surface of her bust... Any extra restraint chafed against the more sensitive flesh. She tried her best to address the... Exposure of her lower half; ultimately having to rotate her skirt until one half rested in front of her legs... And the other half was tented out by the disproportionate shelf of her ass.

At first, Aqua prescribed the soreness and fatigue to a more arcane loss of vitality, and yet... By virtue of her sweaty hair sticking to her head, she'd missed a damning indication of the source of her woes - until she came upon a stagnant stream, deep in the wicked woods. Taking a rest to massage her aching ankles, she looked into the water - and for a moment, saw a stranger staring at her.

Believing herself to be attacked, Aqua manifested her keyblade again - but as soon as it took shape, her arm began to shake. The heavy, blunt weapon was only secure in her grip for a moment; long enough for it to begin to strain her shoulder and elbow, forcing her to bring her arm down; planting the teeth of it in the dirt. She waited for a moment, conserving what little strength she had for a fight...

One that never came. Looking back into the water again, Aqua shuddered as she watched the mysterious figure's movements match hers... Proving that it was nothing more than her reflection in the water. Aqua's face looked... Tired, in a word. The weight surging from her stomach had reached her face - lending to a little bit of roundness along her cheeks. Her eyes were defined by deep bags; and beside them, small wrinkles - the likes of which she grimly correlated with age.

While she internally worked to deny what she found upon her face - her hair made such an endeavor a feat even she couldn't undergo. Her hair seemed to have grown somewhat - smoothing it out a little, her bangs would fall in front of her face - the very tips bearing the familiar, dark blue; but seeming to grow lighter, closer to the roots. Her roots remained somewhat dark - but interspersed with lighter shades of grey. It reached seemingly down to her shoulders - but was too much of a sweaty mess to tell. By all accounts, she wasn't the youthful keyblade warrior she'd entered this world as...

But instead, an out-of-shape, older woman... Who, her looks be damned, was _still_a warrior of light. Dematerializing her keyblade, Aqua rose from the stagnant pool - slowly and carefully, so as to not strain her sore back. Though twisted and tired - Aqua understood full well that she was duty-bound to find her friends; and to save the life of the princess. Even if she was physically at a disadvantage - she still had her magic. Looking upward, she could see the spire of the castle looming above - through the crooked branches.

Aqua wouldn't submit to this trickery - boldly, she set off; keeping one hand upon her hip; massaging it through the soft, cellulite-ridden flesh.

---

The evil queen sat before her mirror; staring boredly at it - her dark nails rapping across the fine wooden surface of its arm. The mirror stared back at her expectantly - for she had been particularly incessant following her most recent endeavor.

"The stranger in blue holds the title still," it had recited, "until your spell overcomes her will. To yield it needs two aspects combined: to be unfair in body, and in mind."

It had been hours since she'd slipped the strange warrior her potion - and since then had been waiting rather impatiently for the changes to set in. The queen couldn't fathom how such a horrid visage wouldn't break a woman's spirit - nor how a feeble body wouldn't demoralize a proud warrior. And yet - to her immense disappointment, Aqua had remained strong - infuriatingly so.

And so she waited on her mirror to tell her of the good news - which, as the sun sank beneath the horizon of the forest, and as wolves' howls began to fill the air outside, she continued to wait...

All until she heard a sound rising from her staircase. Turning her attention toward it; it seemed to grow louder - a harsh clattering, gentle grinding, and meaty slapping, interspersed with harsh and ragged breaths. Soon, the source came into view - causing the queen's brow to quirk.

Aqua stood in the doorway to her tower - and while the infraction of her intrusion was severe enough... The queen couldn't help but find humor in how far she'd come.

The unflatteringly flabby woman that stood before her was hunched over; both arms on her knees and raggedly panting from making her way up the steps. Sweat streamed off of her face - and her hair - mostly blue, but having adopted a salt-and-pepper tone of greying black at the roots - now extended over her eyes and past her shoulders in sweat-matted strands.

The pink straps the queen found Aqua wearing seemed to be banded around the sagging curvature of her breasts; the shirt that used to contain them having split down the middle, held together only by the bands now; though they seem to pinch and strain against her bust. Her chunky thighs, sticking out of the gaps in her skirt - now along her sides - bore no indication of anything beneath it - her pants having apparently been totally destroyed. Her boots seemed to exist now only as far as their armor; the leggings having been excised after they, too, had burst.

The queen cackled in delight at the sight of the warrior - which caused Aqua to manifest her keyblade... And support herself on it.

"Aha! And how do you expect to swing that thing around? When _I_tasted the potion, I nearly sprained a hip simply by walking." she taunts.

"Hah... I-" Aqua pants out, needing to take a gulp of breath. "I don't need to. Raising her free hand and shifting her weight onto her blade, she manifests a plume of frigid air. Whatever you've done to me - I'm still just as..." She gives a harsh exhale, starting to pant again. "Powerful as when I arrived."

Standing up from her seat, the queen stands ready to confront the aged keyblade-wielder. "Is that so? Why don't you show me," She leers, venomously concluding with "you withered old crone."

Her patience exhausted, Aqua lunges forward - lobbing a shower of ice toward the queen with a ragged shout of "Ice barrage!" The queen seems caught off-guard by its potency; extending her hands to ward it off. The ice impacts an invisible barrier - batting against it before disappearing - bursting into motes of light lingering in the room. Aqua continues to throw spells at the queen - knocking over tomes, bottles, hanging ropes of garlic, and blasting away the throne upon which the queen had been sitting. Each time one of her spells are deflected, more of the green lights manifest - all until Aqua attempts to lob another spell at the queen...

But only smoke manifests from her palm. Her energy reserves exhausted, Aqua tries to balance herself on her keyblade - while the queen cackles before her.

"Oh, I'm delighted you tried to face me. If you hadn't; I might have been too drained to finish my spell." With a sweeping wave of her hand - the remnants of Aqua's spells gather in the queen's palm before disappearing; and with a snap of her fingers, a wave of energy blasts Aqua back, onto her ass. The keyblade wielder gives a husky groan; reaching down to her back, closing her eyes and wincing...

And when she opens them, she finds the queen hovering over her - her arms spread. "Stranger from another world," she recites - her voice booming around the tower with unnatural volume. "may this curse not come unfurled. Aged and feeble thou shall remain, until a spell I cast again. Never will you leave to roam, for this world becomes thine home. From a warrior with a mighty blade - thou shalt now serve, as a lowly maid."

Clapping her hands together evokes another blast - the force rolling across Aqua's body; blowing her hair back, causing her unflattering flab to jiggle - and blasting apart her clothing; snapping the bands supporting the tatters of her shirt and tearing asunder her skirt. Her keyblade clatters to the floor - and as her body settles... A haze overtakes her. Exhausted, the warrior slumps to the side... Watching her blade disappear as consciousness leaves her.

---

"Magic mirror, on the wall - who is the fairest one of all?"

The queen beams as she faces her mirror - eagerly awaiting its response.

"Though many maidens are plain to see, the fairest of them all is thee."

Hearing those words from the mirror prompt a low chuckle from the queen. "Indeed; and let none stand against this." she concurs, leaning back to find a seat...

But stopping herself just short of doing so. Turning around, she finds a spot where she was supposed to have a throne empty - something she hadn't quite become accustomed to, despite having been gone longer than a week. Beyond the vacant spot was a pile of debris - which a maid was currently sweeping up.

"You." the queen commands, drawing the maid's attention. Clad in a drab, brown, rough-hewn dress with a simple shawl over it, she looks up - tired eyes looking past greying hair.

"Yes, your majesty..." she grumbles begrudgingly.

"Fetch me a seat. I wish to make more inquiries of my mirror - and wish to do so comfortably."

With a soft huff, the maid braces her broom against a wall, resting a hand against her broad flank as she moves toward the staircase. "I'll find you a seat, witch, just you wait." she grumbles. With a snap of the queen's fingers, she pauses.

"Speaking of waiting, I'm sure you'll be able to wait until breakfast tomorrow for your next meal."

The maid pauses, slowly waddling as she turns around. Her stomach growls in advance of her pleas. "N-no, your majesty - I simply couldn't. I don't know what you heard, but it wasn't my intention to say it - or think it, or-"

The queen huffs, turning a hand up to silence her. "Fetch me a seat. Then we will speak of your meals, you gluttonous cretin."

Turning back to the staircase, Aqua sighs. As she carefully trudges her way down, she bites her lip; recalling the friends she'd come here to save... And hoping they'd save her.

If they'd even think to save a lowly maid.

#5: Weight Gain, Twinning, Slob

Buuuurrrrraaaap!

"Ugh - c'mon, sis, that's just gross."

Luna and Luan Loud were sharing a couch together - although, the latter seemed to be taking up more than her share. A result of a particularly... Indulgent diet she'd gone upon lately, the bucktoothed Loud sister had grown bloated - to the chagrin of her siblings. It didn't seem as though she hadn't noticed their reticence - but she didn't seem to care.

Luan patted her belly and flashed a mischievous grin toward her sister. "It's not! It's just natural." she defends.

Rolling her eyes, Luna inches away; bumping up against the arm of the couch. "I don't get why you wanted to fatten yourself up."

"Because it huuurp feels good! I mean, check this out!" Grabbing the bottom of her shirt - which already rode up a little on her belly - she yanks it upward; allowing the flabby form of her stomach to flop out over her lap. She soon hefts it up; and after scooting closer to Luna - she drops her weight onto her sister's lap.

"Wha- hey! C'mon, knock it off!" Luna reached down, trying to shove her sister away - but her hands merely dimple into the flab of her sister's chest.

The bucktoothed Loud sister giggles; evidently tickled by the contact. "Ahaha! No, you knock it off, you're makin' me-" Her stomach growls, and her expression quickly changes - her eyes widen a little, and her cheeks puff out; followed by a bassy burrAAAaap vented directly toward Luna's face.

The older sister's hair is blown back - and she seems stunned by the sudden blech. Paralyzed, her hands remain immersed in her sister's flab; her grip softening as she seems to sink into her seat.

"See! It feels nice when ya really get a feel for it, right?" Luan pushes further immersing more of her sister under her bulk.

Her eyes half-lidded, her entranced sister mumbles "Yeah... Nice..."

"It's _especially_nice when you can doooo... This!" Luan adjusts herself in her seat; reeling back - then forcefully gut-checking Luna. She recoils from the blow, seeming to lurch back, but as she recovers - her body seems to ricochet backward; slamming her own stomach against Luan's. Taken aback, Luan places her hands on her hips. "Ha! I didn't feel a thing, there. You're gonna need a bit more bulk to come back at me like that."

The still-reeling Luna murmurs. "More...?" Her hands sink lower, falling off of her sister's stomach, and rubbing her own. Beneath her fingers, the flesh seems to swell, and a dopey, dreamy expression seems to spread across her face. "More..."

Puffing out her flabby chest, Luan gives an affirming "Yep! More like me!"

Luna nods in affirmation - feeling her clothes start to tighten around her body - the first thing she feels is her shirt riding up; and her pants pinching against her thighs. She seems to slump over in her seat, lost in her trance - until her sister grabs a hold of her hair.

"Y'think it feels good now - try this on for size!" she calls impishly, pulling her sister's face down into her stomach. Luna's body seems to stiffen a little, then relax as she's smothered in her sister's flabby gut. While not as offensive as her gas - Luna could smell the sweat upon Luan's skin; and from deep within the recesses of her hefty form, she can hear a low, rhythmic gurgling. It reverberates around her head - white noise underscoring her sister's words - More, more... More like me.

Luna reaches up and wraps her arms around Luan's midsection - unable to get entirely around it, but securing herself as she remains buried in her stomach. Almost on contact; her arms begin to bulk up - slim limbs swelling out from the upper arm downward; until even her fingers have developed a bit more meat on them. Luan, above her, continues to giggle until she hears a harsh _rrrrrip_pierce the air of the living room - looking down at her smothered sister, she can see her shirt tearing away at the seams.

"Geez, sis, you should watch out for that kinda stuff - you're lucky your _loving_sister's got some plus-sized extras." she taunts. "And I was thinkin' ya need a new style anyway! Starting with..." She reaches down to her sister's hair, pulling it upward and bunching it up into a neat ponytail - just like hers. "This! What do you think?" Looking down - she finds her sister... Exactly where she left her; buried in her gut. "Oh, yeah."

Grabbing her by the ponytail, she pulls Luan up and out; a dreamy look still on her face - why by now had grown bright red... And a little rounder, on account of all the weight she was piling on. The dopey smile on her face was different too - her prior clean bill of dental health having been paved over by Luan's bucked teeth.

"Oh gosh!" Luan gasps, looking down - observing the flab spilling from the tatters of her sister's clothes. "Looks like you're a good listener - when I said to be more like me, you got..."

"More like me!" Lu...an parrots, leaning back into her twin sister's gut and giving it a bucktoothed smooch. The two giggle, and the former Luna sits up; smooshing her plump belly against her sister's. "You really know what you're talkin' about, sis, this feels-" Her stomach growls, and her expression quickly changes - her eyes widen a little, and her cheeks puff out; followed by a bassy _burrAAAaap_vented directly toward Luan's face.

Momentarily staggered, Luan bursts into laughter, patting her sister's belly and causing a jiggling ripple to spread across it. "Nice one, sis!"

"Ugh," a groan came from a nearby doorway. "can you cut that out? That's just gross." The two Luans turn their attention to the source of the voice - spying Leni passing through; her attention on her phone.

The twins look at each other - and an impish grin spreads across both their faces.

"Nuh-uh! It's natural." one begins; prompting the other to muse...

"Why don'tcha feel for yourself?"