Clothes Make the Woman – Part 1
Written by HikerAngel :: [Friday, 14 February 2020 03:47] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 15 February 2020 11:15]
Clothes Make the Woman – Part 1
I wrote this one a long time ago, so don't make fun of me. Too much. Unless I deserve it. :)
I love clothes.
I love feeling their fabric between my fingers, against my skin. I love their texture.
I love the new way each outfit paints a different part of my body in a different light. I love how each brings out a different curve, a different line of my body.
I love trying on something new for the first time. I love slipping into something warm and comfortable. I love the excitement and anticipation of dressing for a formal event. I love pushing my breasts into a tight sports bra and sliding yoga pants over my hips, knowing I look cute for my workout.
I’m not the prettiest girl in the world, but I keep my twenty-five-year-old body fit, and I’ve been called cute. I’ve had a boyfriend or two that called me beautiful, but that’s on the checklist of boyfriend job responsibilities, so it doesn’t really count. Besides, those boyfriends left me for someone prettier. Or sexier. Or blonde.
Which brings me back to why I’m thinking about clothes. I’m going to this singles event tomorrow night, and I need something to wear. I want to feel desired. I want to feel desirable. I need the perfect outfit. Something different. Something amazing!
I looked through rack after rack of clothes at one department store after another. Nothing was quite right.
Frustrated, I walked through the mall trying to think of another store to try, when a bright red dress in the window of a strange little consignment shop caught my eye.
I didn’t normally go for used clothes or vintage stuff. The thought of wearing something that others may have worn didn’t appeal to me. But this dress… there was something about it. It was a mini halter dress with a high hemline and open back. It was a solid red color, but it had intricate stitching that gave it an elegant and unique texture upon closer examination. The stitching was exquisite and in perfect condition. It was designed to show off my best features – toned arms, legs, and back – and cover my worst – small breasts and narrow hips. It was the perfect dress for my body. It was the dress that I wanted. I knew it from the moment I saw it.
I entered the store to find a hunched, dwarfish old woman minding the shop. She gave me an odd, overbroad, predatory smile as I entered that didn’t fit her grandmotherly appearance whatsoever. It totally gave me the creeps. Ordinarily, I probably would have hustled out of the shop at that moment… but I had to have that dress.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” she said expectantly, continuing to wear that disturbing, overly broad grin.
“Would you mind if I tried on that dress? The red one in the display?” I pointed it out.
“Not at all, dear,” she said, still grinning.
She shuffled slowly over to the display and removed the dress from the mannequin, bringing it to me.
I took it from her as she continued to smile her hideous smile. I walked to the back, the hair on the back of my neck sending warning shivers down my spine as I had absolutely no doubt she was continuing to watch me with that eerie grin on her face.
I tried to put the spooky old woman out of my mind while I tried the dress on. I walked out of the changing room and over to the floor-length mirror as I clasped the straps behind my neck. I swayed from side to side, turned slightly, then finally did a pirouette.
I loved it.
The dress fit as if it had been tailored to my body. I was reasonably sure that I had never looked so good in anything before.
I went back to the changing room and slipped my jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie back on. I brought the dress to the strange shopkeeper. She continued her smile – how I wanted to tell her to stop smiling! – but I was almost out of there anyway.
“You can have that one for free, dear,” she said. “You just have to do me a favor sometime if I call on you.”
“Thank you very much, but I would rather just pay for it, and…” I said, not wanting to ever see this freaky lady again.
“Nonsense, dear. Now have a nice day.”
With that, she shuffled to the back and was gone. She had never asked for my phone number, email, or even my name. It seemed unlikely that she was ever going to call in that favor. So I took the dress, walked out of the shop, thanked the Lord that I was rid of that creepy lady, and went home.
This dress was meant to be worn without a bra, with its open back and supportive chest, but I wasn’t sure whether that was a good idea. Would going to a dating mixer braless send the right message to my prospective partners? What kind of man would I end up with if I did that?
I looked down at my women’s fitness magazine, at the perfect abs of the cover model, and came to a decision. Screw it! I was going to look my best, and whatever happened, happened.
I put my bra back into the drawer and slipped into the dress. I looked in the mirror. My makeup looked great. My hair was up in a French bun, and I was fairly pleased with it as well. As my gaze lowered, I was again astonished by just how great I looked in this dress. I shifted my hips from side to side, watching the fabric bunch and straighten. The pattern of the solid-colored fabric was mesmerizing and gorgeous.
I arrived at the mixer five minutes late, noticing several pairs of eyes turning in my direction. It wasn’t like I commanded the room or anything, but I was nice to see that I was attracting at least some attention from the start.
One of the men approached. He was nice enough, but not really my type. As we chatted, and I noticed his eyes flick downward on occasion, I began to feel a strange sensation on my skin under the dress. I ignored it, trying to seem interested in what this guy was saying. Even though I had no interest in dating him, I still wanted to be polite. We were all in this dating scenario together, no reason to hurt anyone’s feelings.
We finally wrapped up our conversation and moved on to other clusters of people. Another man approached. This one was fit, not particularly handsome, but a good body impressed me more than an attractive face. It showed effort and willpower – something about the person. A nice face just showed good genes. I smiled.
He looked me over as he approached, and I felt the sensation under the dress again. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, and it didn’t feel good. It was just… distracting. I fought the urge to look down at myself. The man must have liked what he saw as he checked me out, as he smiled broadly. The sensation intensified to the point where I needed a bit of privacy to see what was going on. I apologized and excused myself to the restroom for a brief moment. I was interested in this guy, so hopefully he waited for me.
I walked into the restroom straight to the mirror, fidgeting under the dress. My eyes widened.
My breasts looked more full, my hips more voluptuous. I felt my slender stomach, tracing lines of definition through the fabric that I was certain hadn't been there before. Everything that the dress covered seemed to have improved.
I gave a delighted giggle before covering my lips with my fingers. What was going on here? Was it the dress that was changing me? I thought back to the way it had captured my attention, to the creepy old lady…
I decided that I was going to have to have to pay Creepy Grandma another visit. First, however, I needed to test out my new charms on the man I'd set my sights on at the mixer. I smiled and walked out of the bathroom with a confidence I hadn't felt before.
Striding up to him, I let my newfound confidence fuel my flirtatious side. Maybe it was my confidence, maybe my larger chest, but his roaming gaze along my body lit his eyes with hungry fire. His eyes darted sideways before they came to mine. He didn't know I noticed, but I did.
I gave him my sultriest eyes, my sexiest smile, and I could see its impact in his face, in his eyes. This felt good, a game that I now felt ready to play.
"Want to get out of here? I think that I've found what I'm looking for here," I said. Whoa! Had I just been that forward? Was the dress influencing my mind as well as my body?
He smiled and seemed to consider. It didn't take him long.
"Actually, yes. Coffee?" he said. I was pleased.
"As long as it comes with dessert…" I said with a wink. Oh. My. God. Where was this coming from? This so wasn't me!
"What did you have in mind? I could go for dessert…" his response was safe. He wasn't sure what I was saying, and he probably didn't want to offend.
We walked toward the coffee shop, and I'm not sure what came over me. I pulled his strong body toward mine and kissed him. Hard. Passionately.
I could feel him harden against my abdomen. I smiled into the kiss as I pushed him against the wall.
The muscles of his hard back and firm butt hit brick as my hands and lips roamed. He tasted like baked brie, sweet, savory.
Why was I doing this? I thought, suddenly alarmed.
Then, I stopped thinking and nipped his lower lip with my teeth.
Stop! I said, in conflict with myself.
Finally, I pulled back, leaving him gasping for breath. I had clearly overwhelmed him. I had clearly overwhelmed me!
Who was I becoming?!
Concerned by the thought, I grew suddenly demure. I smiled and mumbled an apology, then left, hustling away in the dark rainy night.
I definitely needed to see Creepy Grandma. Like NOW.
The following morning, I looked in the mirror, giving a sexy smirk as I looked at my new body. My smirk quickly turned to a frown, however, as I thought, that's not me! I should be freaking out about that dress changing my body, not feeling satisfied and sexy. What is wrong with me?
My body, improved as it was, was no different than it had been when I had taken off the dress last night. The changes must only happen while wearing it then. That was good. It gave me some control over things. I wondered if it would work again, tempted by my new, daring side… but I resisted.
Was the dress changing my personality too? That was a really concerning thought. Whatever the benefits of wearing the dress were to my body, I certainly didn't want it affecting who I was. I certainly hadn't been myself last night at the mixer. I had been far more forward and daring than normal.
I tried to put that thought out of my mind as I looked at my phone to find out when the mall opened. I would get answers soon enough when I had a chance to speak to Creepy Grandma again. The mall opened at 10:00 AM. Perfect! I went to the gym for my morning workout, got my morning latte, then headed to the mall.
As I walked into the shop, I didn’t see Creepy Grandma. I did, however, see a skimpy black getup on the mannequin in the window where the dress I had purchased was previously displayed. It looked like something a figure skater might wear, with a form-fitting bodysuit look for the front of the torso, an open back, and a short skater skirt. The only thing that was a bit different was the black and silver shield on the front. I had never seen anything quite like it before.
I rang the bell at the desk, hoping that it would bring out Creepy Grandma.
And waited some more.
I rang the bell again.
Creepy Grandma didn’t appear, but a green mist began to swirl around me. I tried to turn and leave the shop, but I seemed to be frozen in place. I frantically looked from side to side, as my eyes were the only things that I seemed to be able to move. All that I saw, however, was green mist!
The world began to spin, faster and faster. Until the world went black.
As I awoke, I found myself in complete darkness, limbs spread out, chained to a cement wall. I had cold iron cuffs on each wrist and ankle that were attaching me to the wall. My back was bare, pressed to the frigid cement, and I began to shiver immediately after regaining consciousness. I could feel that I was wearing clothing however, but not my sweater and jeans from when I had been in the shop.
Had someone changed me? Into what? Why? Bare back, covered front… Was I in that figure skater outfit from the display in the shop? It certainly fit the profile of whatever I was now wearing.
The thought of some stranger changing my clothes was odd and more than a little disturbing. I didn’t want to dwell on that right now, however. I had to figure out how I was going to escape this situation.
Maybe these chains were old? I pulled my right hand out from the wall with all my might. I felt a warm strength pour into the arm as I pulled, but it wasn’t enough. The cuff wasn’t going to break. If it was old, it was still sturdy enough to hold me.
I tried the other arm and each leg. Same thing. Warmth, strength, no use.
Suddenly, I heard a clang. Something from the darkness behind me, above me, and to my left. There must be a stairwell over there somewhere? I tried to reimagine the room’s layout now that I had heard a sound.
I heard footsteps descending, slowly, methodically.
I began to see the slightest bit of light. It was warm, orange, flickering.
The light grew brighter as the steps approached, until finally, I could see myself in the faint flickers. I was indeed wearing the skater outfit from the shop. My breasts seemed even larger than before, blocking my view of the rest of my body. Affixed to the wall, I couldn’t crane my neck forward far enough to see over my now significant swells. As I looked to each side, I noticed that my arms were more toned and defined, the flickers sending shadows dancing along the swells and valleys of their contours.
Finally, the owner of the footsteps came into my view. It was Creepy Grandma, looking all the creepier with the flickers of the candle she held before her fluttering over her overly wide smile.
“Good. You’re awake, my dear. I’m glad. Come to see me when you let yourself out,” she said in a gravelly voice. Then, she began to head back to the stairs.
“Wait! That’s it! I can’t exactly let myself out with these chains on!” I said, trying to hide the desperation and anxiety in my voice.
The old woman’s expression didn’t change, but she looked at me intently. She gave me the impression of a raven, quietly intense, studying. Then, she turned and began a slow walk up the stairs.
“So no water? Food? You’re just going to leave me here?” I said, no longer caring if I sounded desperate. I was becoming desperate! I thought that the woman was going to do something. Tell me something. Something. Anything! But she just left me here. For no apparent reason.
What the fuck was this? What did she want from me?
I should never have come back to the shop. After that first trip, I should have known.
Thinking back to that first trip, I remembered the favor that I owed the lady for the dress. Was this what she considered a favor?
What a fucking pyscho!
I was becoming angry now. Furious. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so mad.
With rage giving me energy, I tried once more to pull my arm from the wall. This time it moved. Ever so slightly. I could feel the iron cuff pulling out from the wall. It began to bend, creaking. Finally, a snap! My right arm was free! With one side free, I had much more leverage. I used my powerful core muscles to twist as I pulled as hard as I could with my left arm. I heard a ping and the clang of metal pieces on the ground. My left was free now too!
It was then that I realized I should have freed my legs first. With nothing holding my upper half to the wall, I began to fall face-first toward the ground. My ankles pressed against the front of their cuffs as I went down hard. The cuffs seemed to bend under the force, until they popped open, allowing me to fall the rest of the way to the ground.
As my hands hit the stone floor, it wasn’t feeling as cold now. My skin was feeling insulated from the cold somehow. As I rose to my feet, I already knew my next course of action. I was going to show that old lady exactly what I thought of her favor. I felt my lips twist into a sneer as I began to ascent the steps that Creepy Grandma had traveled a moment before.
I threw open the door, ready to confront Creepy Grandma. I saw her across the room, smiling her wicked smile as ever.
I began to march across the large room to give her a piece of my mind, you know, for the whole chaining to the wall in the dark dungeon below her house thing, when I saw a large form step between us.
How had I not noticed this guy before? He bulged with muscle, its striations visible under his tight suit. Why did superheroes and supervillains always wear tight clothes? I mused momentarily. I should come out with a line of fashionwear focused on invulnerable baggy jeans and chunky sweaters. I could totally own the loose-fit superhero outfit market!
Anyway, I should probably be more worried about the situation at hand right now, so I went back to my original thought about noticing the guy. I suppose I had been too focused on Creepy Grandma to look around at the rest of the room. I did now. Luckily, there weren't any other people in the room besides the three of us.
I looked back at the man. I recognized him. He was Vile Vern, one of the more powerful supervillains in the city!
Uh oh! Even with my new strength, I doubted I was in his league.
Before I could figure out what to do next, he was on me, an amused Grandma looking on in the background.
Vile Vern grabbed me by my black skater outfit and let loose with a punch to my stomach.
All air left my lungs, and pain exploded from my abs. I fell back, pulling him off balance and onto me due to his grip on my clothes. I felt like cursing, but I couldn't manage it with the lack of air in the lungs issue. At least I could mentally curse, right?
Fuck! That hurt!
There. That felt better. It wasn't better for long.
Vern's huge body crashed on top of mine, creating another whoosh of air from my lungs just as I was beginning to refill them from his punch! Apparently I wasn't invulnerable, because the combination of the two really hurt!
Not knowing what else to do, I duplicated a move that I had watched a number of times in MMA fights. I wrapped my legs around his lower back. That's when I realized that MMA fights didn't usually involve a man and a woman. This had the look of something distinctly more sexual… The thought didn't last long, however, because I saw my legs. The were so long, so smooth, so sexy. I had always had pretty good legs, but now they were amazing! I guess that this latest Creepy Grandma outfit hadn't just made me stronger, it had improved my body just as the first had. Where was a mirror when you needed one?
Then, I felt a blow to my head. Oh yeah, fight. Why was my mind always wandering when I should be focused on not getting my ass kicked?
This blow hadn't hurt as much as the one to my stomach. Thank goodness for my hard head! I reached out to grab his large hands in my smaller ones, in an attempt to prevent him from landing any other blows. He pulled out of one hand--barely, but when he tried to do the same and his other arm out of my grasp, he didn't seem to be able to. Was I growing stronger?
In his moment of surprise, I reached out and grabbed his free hand with my right again, and this time he couldn't pull free.
I was growing stronger!
I tightened the grip of my legs on his lower back, pulling him into me. His hard chest pressed against my breasts… which I now noticed were larger. Yay!
Don't get distracted by your sexier parts now, Elaine! I chastised myself. You've got a fight to win here.
I tightened my legs even harder and Vern grimaced in pain. I was hurting him! I was actually hurting him!!
Unfortunately, with him pressed against me and his arms in mine, in a decidedly unromantic lover's embrace, I couldn't really hurt him. Or him me.
Gaining confidence in my growing strength, I decided to push him off me. Using my long legs and toned arms, I pushed up and outward. Vern went flying, crashing into the corner of the room where ceiling met wall, then slamming down into the ground.
I rose to my feet as he began to slowly rise to his. I didn't want to give up my momentary advantage, however, so I walked over to him and kicked him in the face, my toe catching his chin. He flipped upright and smashed against the wall a few feet away, half-caving it in.
I spared a quick glance in Creepy Grandma's direction, and she was smiling even more broadly than usual. I shivered at the sight of her distended cheeks. This lady was just so incredibly hideous.
Vern had recovered while I was distracted with Grandma and her awful smile, and he launched a punch in my direction. Luckily, either he was slowing down, or I was moving faster, because I dodged out of the way before it hit me.
He followed up with a punch from the other hand. This time, I put my hand up to block it and did, knocking it away without too much trouble.
He sent another right hand toward me, really slow this time--almost as if he were moving through water. I grabbed his large hand in my smaller one, stopping it cold.
I had seen this part before in the movies, so I knew what to do. I squeezed.
At first, all it seemed to do was cause him a grunt of pain. I doubled down on my effort, feeling strength pouring into my arm and hand. His fingers seemed to bow under the pressure, until they finally snapped.
*Snap* *Crackle* *Pop*
It was like the Rice Krispies slogan but less delicious, more gross.
His face contorted in pain as I released it, his fingers bent at odd angles, obviously broken. I threw an uppercut to his jaw before he even knew what hit him, and he flew into the ceiling before landing on the floor in a crumpled heap. Wood, plaster and other detritus landing on top of him as he lay there, unmoving.
Damn! I was pretty strong now apparently. I tried to be concerned for Vern, but I couldn't seem to care about him. All I felt was satisfaction at having overpowered the man. My lips curled into a smile involuntarily, and I looked over to Creepy Grandma.
She was gone.
Damn it, I thought, as I searched the house for the old woman. How is that old lady so spry that she can slither out of here like that?
I wonder what her deal is? Why did she give me these clothes? Did she want to make me stronger? Does Vile Vern work for her? Maybe I should have thought to ask him some questions before I kicked him? Oh well… she thought.
Maybe the real question was why I didn't think twice about kicking him in the face, and why I felt only satisfaction, no guilt or remorse about it. Was I becoming evil? I felt as if the thought should bother me. It didn't. All that was really bothering me is why the old lady didn't seem to have a single mirror in this place, so that I could get a look at my new body.
As I debated whether to leave or wait for Vile Vern to awaken, I heard a soft thump outside the front door. Wow! Maybe my hearing was improving too. Then, I looked through the door. I'm not quite sure how I did it, and I didn't dwell on the fact that I had for long, because I was too distracted with what I was actually seeing.
Megaman and his cousin, Megagirl, were the strongest, most powerful superheroes in Megatown. And probably in the world. I couldn't help but lick my lips, as I looked through his costume with my x-ray eyes. Look at that ridiculous chest… those abs of steel. Vile Vern was muscular, but this man? He was chiseled to perfection. Yummy.
My eyes roamed his acres of tanned, carved muscles then began to go lower to check out his…
…and then he was right in front of me. In, like, an instant. Shit! Had he caught me checking him out? Well, if he had, at least he would know I was interested…
I put on a sexy smile and cocked my hip. Where was this coming from? The dress? Had that dress permanently changed my personality to make me a sexy little delicious minx who could wrap any man around… STOP IT!
I really needed to stop thinking these thoughts! I was in control. I was in control… of my sexy legs that went on for days, and my…
Megaman seemed confused as he looked at me. Finally, he spoke, giving me something to think about other than SEX!
"Why hello, miss. Thank you for taking care of Vile Vern here. I've been looking for him for a while now," he said with a smile before his expression turned serious.
"But if you don't mind my asking, why are you in Megagirl's costume from the time she turned evil?"
Uh oh. Was I evil now? Was he here for me? Shit! Wait, though. All I had done was knock out a supervillain. That wasn't so bad, right?
"Well, it's funny that you should ask that. You see, a few days ago I got this dress from this weird, creepy old lady in the mall, and I wore it to a singles mixer, but I noticed that it made me hotter, with bigger breasts and stuff. So I went back to find the old lady, but this lady knocked me unconscious somehow and dressed me up in this thing, then chained me to the wall of her dungeon downstairs. Then, I somehow started to get superpowers, and I broke through the chains in the dungeon. Then, I came upstairs, and this Vern dude tried to kill me! So it's really not my fault, you see. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now that I think about it, it is really creeping me out that the old lady must have seen me naked getting me out of my other clothes and into this costume. But you probably don't care about that part, and I probably didn't really need to point it out, but there you have it. That's how I got into this evil Megagirl costume."
Megaman stared at me in awe. I do tend to ramble when I'm nervous. Or in trouble. Or in front of a hot guy. And when all three are happening… and I have superbreath? Well, I guess you just saw what happens.
Finally, he spoke. "Well, miss, it sounds as if you've been through a lot today. It might be best to change out of that costume, though, before someone thinks that you're evil."
"And did you say you had superpowers now?"
"Yeah," I said. Limiting myself to a single word answer now, so that I didn't babble again.
"Mind if I test them a bit?" he said.
I bit my lower lip and batted my eyelashes. "You can test my body however you'd like, any time you'd like…"
"Oh. My. God!" Had I just said that to Megaman? I flushed with embarrassment, unable to control my seductive side around someone I was attracted to, apparently.
"Um, okay. Ah, thank you," Megaman said, clearly a little embarrassed at the situation himself.
He took my hand in his.
"Okay, grip my hand as hard as you can."
I did. I squeezed with everything I had. His hand turned a little purple, but his grip still felt firm on mine.
"Good Lord! You're almost as strong as I am--probably on par with Megagirl! You say you never had superpowers until this old woman dressed you in that costume?"
"Hmmm… I need to see what's happening here and consult with the Megatown DEO branch. Let me take you home, so you can change out of that outfit. I need to take it with me to be examined."
"Actually, do you mind if I try to fly back on my own? Maybe you could give me some pointers or something, but I've always wanted to fly. I thought that since I had all of Megagirl's other powers, I might…" I trailed off, embarrassed.
"By all means…" Megaman said. "I always like to give a little hop at takeoff, like this."
With my ex-ray vision.
And OMG, he was huge--his, package, um, packaged up rather nicely in its spandex cocoon as it bounced with his hop.
What? I couldn't help it… and I was evil-ish now, remember? And a sex fiend, thanks to the dress. It's not my fault!
I walked outside to try out what he had shown me… Not that! The flying thing! Get your mind out of the gutter! Not that evil. Yet.
I launched myself into the sky, then slowed to a stop, floating in midair. I turned to look down at Megaman. I was doing it! I was flying!
Megaman rose up to meet me.
“Nice work!” He said.
“Thanks!” I said coyly, absently wondering what those huge, hard muscles of his would feel like against my…
“Well, what have we here?” Said another voice from behind me.
I spun and saw Megagirl hovering in space.
“Megagirl, I… it’s nice to meet you,” I said, feeling momentarily guilty for ogling her brother or cousin or whatever. Then, I realized that I hadn’t actually said or done anything, so I didn’t need to feel guilty.
“Likewise. Though I’m curious why you are wearing my old evil-Megagirl costume.”
“Um, well, it’s a long story…”
“She was forced to wear it by some sort of evil old woman,” Megaman interrupted, probably to avoid another crazy run-on story gush by yours truly.
“Forced? By an old woman?” Said Megagirl, incredulously. “How did she even have this outfit?”
“Good question,” said Megaman. “And I intend to find out the answer…”
I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful to Creepy Grandma or not. She had somehow turned me into a sexy superheroine, but she also seemed to be changing my personality either with these clothes or via some other mechanism. I tried to decide whether I liked the changes. I was definitely becoming bolder, more aggressive. I didn’t necessarily mind that. I was becoming less restrained, less concerned about doing whatever I pleased. Was that a good thing?
That one was a bit tougher to answer. On one hand, it was freeing. It felt good, caring less about everyone else. I could simply do what I wanted, consequences be damned. On the other hand, what about others? Shouldn’t I wanted to do right by others? Shouldn’t I want good things for others more than for myself?
The conflicting thoughts warred within me. Each had its appeal. I decided that I should pay another visit to Creepy Grandma to learn more about what was going on. Maybe that would help me define my course.
As Megaman and Megagirl discussed what had happened to me, I slipped away, floating slowly away before accelerating to maximum speed back to the shop at the mall, the only other place I knew to find her. The two superheroes didn’t seem to be following.
I landed outside the mall, then made my way to the shop.
The shop was open, and I walked in. Creepy Grandma was standing at the counter, freakish smile and all.
I walked up to the counter, set both forearms on it, and leaned forward until my face was less than a foot from the old woman’s. I would never have been so bold to do that with the evil, creepy old hag before the changes in my personality, but, well, that was then. This was now. And I needed some answers.
“So, lady, I need you to tell me what’s going on. Why are you doing this to me? Are you putting some sort of spell on the clothes? Are they changing my personality? Talk.”
The old woman began to laugh. I was confident in my new strength, my new abilities, but her raspy gasps of delight were really making me feel uneasy.
Before I could blink – which is now pretty damn fast – Creepy Grandma’s hands shot out and clamped these silver bracelets around my wrists.
As I looked down to examine the new hardware on my wrists, her hands shot out again, wrapping a silver choker around my neck.
How was this old hag so fast?! I mean, I was nearly as fast as Megaman! This lady was faster than that? How was that possible?
I began to feel strange. My skin tingled. My hair raised. A sensation of power began to spread from my wrists and neck. Was I becoming even more powerful? Was it something else?
I tried to be concerned, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The feeling of power seemed to be washing my worries away. I felt as if I were floating in darkness. I felt the warm arousal of wickedness melting my goodness away.
I don’t know how else to describe it, the inherent goodness that my parents instilled in me through childhood felt charred, burning away by the moment.
I was so lost in the mixture of heady, complementary sensations – power and amorality – that
I didn’t even notice that Creepy Grandma was no longer in front of me. She had vanished.
That lady was seriously elusive. I had come to get answers, armed with powers nearly a match for Megaman’s, and I had managed to get exactly none.
As I looked around, a blue and red figure walked into the shop. It was Megagirl. Gorgeous, blond, sexy Megagirl. I licked my lips as I felt a strong attraction to the wholesome heroine. Was I into girls now too? Shit! That was new!
I rose from my lean over the counter and walked slowly toward her. She must have seen something in how I now looked because her eyes widened slightly, and she tensed.
I strolled casually her way, and she eyed my new choker and bracelets with suspicion. I felt myself smile, my chin moving down slightly. My eyes stayed on hers. As I approached, I saw Megagirl’s muscles prepare for action.
What was it that she was sensing that told her to prepare for action? Was it simply my approach? Now that I thought about it, I wondered why I was approaching. Couldn’t I have spoken to her from the counter? But I hadn’t spoken, had I? I wondered what I was doing. It was almost as if my body where developing a mind of its own.
I came to a stop two feet in front of the beautiful heroine. She looked nervous.