This choice: She mimes a massive bust, far fuller than her own. • Go Back...Chapter #6She mimes a massive bust, far fuller than her own. by: Mr. George   "We've also included retraining for your new life too." The lawyer tells you. With a wicked smile splitting her face from ear to ear, she pulls out the briefest black and white silky outfit. It's only as she holds it loosely allowing the frilly apron to hang loosely, "Oh, and no French maid would be complete without the matching lacy cap."
"You... You can't!" you protest, your voice cracking in fear, already sounding high, feminine and panicked.
"The sentence has already been executed." the judge said. "The tailored nanites will only work with your DNA, and any clothing in intimate contact, and infused with that DNA."
Shaking your head in denial, you doubt if it's even possible. Your scalp itches, and your whole skin crawls, it could be psychosomatic. You certainly imagine it is...
However, as your hair starts to brush against your shoulders, you can tell it's already growing at an accelerated rate. Your skin feels an intense warmth at the nanites breed within every cell, rewriting every to make you a woman.
You shudder as you picture the woman your lawyer outlined. Hoping she was exaggerating the extreme hourglass figure.
The pain centres on your chest as you clutch it, feeling your pecs soften and expand. Desperately trying to crush them back into a familiar shape. Instead you only discover how much more sensitive they are now. You warble in fear, when the reach the size of Double-D's. They certainly look, huge, and the weird angle disturbs you.
You feel as well as hear, when your pelvis cracks and widens. Hands running down your flank, you feel the exposed ribs. They're too near the surface, and you discover you have a feminine waist, before surging back out to accommodate those wider hips.
Dread battles with uncertainty, as you worry and wonder about the size of your ass. The briefest of caressing touches confirms it's already far fuller than ever before. Worse, it's impossibly firm, round and obvious too.
The nanites consume your clothes for the raw material, turning into tatters, before that becomes dust, and even that turns into smoke before being reprocessed to remake you as a humiliatingly voluptuous French maid!
Snatching attention back to your bust, it's grown even fuller. Intimidatingly large, and again, impossibly firm, and full. You overflow the lace trim bra that forms your uniform top. The bottom is little more than a thong.
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"Hello, Yvette." your lawyer greets and christens you in the same sentence. As you struggle to adjust to the surging hormones, jumbled memories. Your old memories intersperced with those of you as a woman. The cleaning skills replacing your former ones. It all makes you confused and uncertain of anything. The vague feeling of being violated, and exposed... Yet, you can't clearly recall quite what you've lost.
A frown creases your brow as you wonder if you could possibly have been mistaken for a man. You snort in amusement, your nostrils flaring cutely. Not with this figure, you decide, putting that ridiculous idea aside.
As you look around, you spot the man seated in the most impressive position. "So... Can you find me, an appropriate job?" you ask, in a sultry French accent. You look to the sour-faced woman beside you. Sparing her a smirk, it's clear she's jealous of your curves, and raw sexual appeal. Having had to divert her frustrations into a boring job, and having to disguise how boring and vanilla a woman she makes.
Lazily, you blow her a kiss, puckering your magnificent lips. They're made for one purpose, after all, a maid with your physique isn't there to just clean the furniture.
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"Yes, yes. I think we can manage that." The intimidating man assures you. |
You've come to the end of the story. You can: - Step back to the previous chapter.
- Start reading the story from the beginning.
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