Turn 6 of 19

Skin fully deeper brown, face softer and fuller. Weave styled without thinking. Practices walking across the room; the heel sway is already smooth. Touches her thicker thighs and big ass in shock. Still tells herself in panic it will reverse if she just stops.

The last of Jess's pale skin had given way to a deep, even brown, rich and glowing under the weak bedroom light. Her face looked softer, fuller, a perfect frame for the heavy makeup and long lashes that had become a permanent part of her. The curly weave shone under her fingers as she styled it without thinking, the movements feeling like muscle memory. She took a deep breath and stepped away from the dresser, forcing herself across the small room. The red stilettos clicked sharply against the stained carpet, her hips swaying in a smooth, practiced rhythm. It wasn't the clumsy stagger of someone wearing heels for the first time—it was the walk of someone who knew how to use them. Halfway across the room, Jess stopped dead. Her hands flew to her thighs, to the soft, heavy curve of her ass in the tight snakeskin skirt. They were thick. Round. Begging to be touched, to be held. A choked noise escaped her plush lips. "This can't be real," she whispered frantically, backing toward the bed until her knees hit the edge. "It'll go back. I know it will. I just… I just have to stop. I have to stop wearing her things, stop putting on her makeup—" But even as she said it her fingers trailed up over the curve of her hip, lingered on the round firmness of her ass. The warmth building between her thighs had nothing to do with fear anymore—and everything to do with the woman she saw in the mirror. The woman who looked like she owned every inch of her new thick brown body, every click of her red heels. The woman who was smiling, slow and certain, as if Jess's panic was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. What if you don't want to stop, a little voice purred in the back of Jess's mind. What if you're already gone? She shuddered, equal parts terror and thrill racing through her. "I have to… I have to go back," Jess insisted, but her voice lacked conviction. The black snakeskin skirt hugged her new thick thighs. The red heels clicked against the floor with practiced ease. Her brown skin gleamed under the bedroom light. And the woman in the mirror just kept smiling.