Lizzie felt her skin crawling, and then as her insides started to churn, she doubled over in her chair. She almost felt like she needed to throw up, but the sensation disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.
Still a little dizzy, she slowly sat up and put a hand to her temple.
She felt something cold and metallic under her hand. She tried to close her hand around it and managed to scratch her forehead with an unusually long fingernail.
Part of her knew exactly what had happened, but part of her didn’t believe it.
The world seemed to shimmer around her, and it was like her chair was pulled out from under her. She fell down onto the floor, mercifully cushioned by an expanded ass. The computer desk she'd just been sitting at had disappeared.
"Oh, no, no," she groaned, feeling something in her tongue press against her palate as she spoke. She struggled to her feet, her center of gravity much different thanks to her new proportions. She wobbled on her platform heels as she saw how her room had been rearranged and altered -- a bigger bed, a makeup table where the bookshelves used to be, an expanded dresser with a TV on top of it taking up part of the space where the computer desk used to be, and the rest of the space filled by a shoe rack holding several dozen pairs of various extremely-high-heeled styles. Instead of holding school assignments and movie ticket stubs, her cork board now appeared to be a shrine to the Kardashians, filled up with magazine cutouts tacked to it. Elsewhere on her walls were photos of other scantily-clad celebrities, models, and what had to have been porn stars.
Her family's 1970s suburban home was equipped with mirrored closet doors, and that's where she looked at herself. The figure she saw standing there was, just as she'd created on the computer, Leah Miller as redesigned to be impossibly slutty. The good news was that people probably wouldn't recognize her as Leah's twin; they'd be distracted by the melon-like breasts, or the overdone makeup, or the hair that was ass-length, wavier, and noticeably streaked with blonde. Or the piercings, she thought, as she ran a finger across the small silver rings in her left ear. And then there was her outfit of tiny denim shorts with the top of a black G-string showing above them, a white shirt tied at the bottom to reveal her midriff, and a lacy black bra that was obviously intended to be seen.
Fuck, I'm gonna get so much dick. And some pussy, too.
No, she had to stop herself from thinking like that. She knew whatever she'd done on the computer was gonna put those thoughts in her head.
I think - I think I need to write down all the weird extra shit I got from that program.
Her eyes left her reflection and fell on the phone charging and sitting on the nightstand next to her bed. She sat down on the bed.
"Oh-h-h-h-h." An involuntary moan came out as something metallic had shifted slightly against her clit, giving her a jolt of pleasure. She realized she could feel the weights on her labia, too, and she wondered if that was what it was like for guys, with a cock in their pants, always being at least slightly conscious of their sex organ.
"Shit. Come on." She forcefully drew her attention to the phone, picking it up and seeing it unlock as she looked at it. She first tried to use a long fingernail to jab at the icon labeled "Notes," to no effect, but quickly figured out how to hold her hand so that she could get it with a fingertip.
It was easier for her to abbreviate: "Infertile, ring." "Hypnotic." "Throat." "Clits." Something about her tongue? She stuck it out and crossed her eyes to see, and it kept coming, and coming, and coming -- she hurriedly retracted it and it went back in. She opened her mouth and touched it with a fingertip, finding that it felt normal aside from the metal stud through it, though her finger came out overly slimy.
She rubbed it against her thumb and found it felt good, like a lotion or -- or a lubricant. That's right, there was something about lubricating saliva, too. She went to tap that in, but didn't want to get the fluid on her phone screen. Wondering if she had tissues in the nightstand drawer, she opened it, reached in, and touched something rubbery and cylindrical.
She pulled out a large purple silicone dildo, and her heart started to beat faster.
I bet if I get myself off with this, I'll be able to think better.
That thought actually relieved her a bit, believing that a total slut wouldn't need to rationalize her use of a sex toy. She put the phone down and started intentionally drooling into her hand so she could wipe it on the dildo.
