Amanda chewed on her lip, the gun heavy in her hand. The rush of the transformation was intoxicating, a heady mix of power and newfound confidence. But the uncertainty gnawed at her. The dials might say "muscle" and "height," but the results were... nuanced. She glanced at her chest again. Definitely bigger. And her clothes were already feeling way too snug.
"Okay, think, Amanda, think," she muttered, pacing in front of the mirror. "This isn't just about muscles. There's something else at play." She picked up the gun, examining it again. The labels were crude, almost childlike. "Maybe... maybe it responds to intent? To what I really want?"
The thought sparked a new idea. She’d been focusing on the physical, on the superficial. But what if she could influence other aspects of herself? Confidence? Intelligence? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. That was getting too sci-fi, even for this situation.
Back to the muscles. She really did want to see how far she could push it. But maybe a more controlled experiment was in order.
She grabbed a pair of her older, looser sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. "Safeguards," she declared to her reflection. Then, she carefully adjusted the dials. This time, she focused solely on muscle, leaving the height dial untouched. She turned the muscle dial up only a fraction, a delicate adjustment.
"Just a tiny bit," she whispered, aiming the gun at her thigh through the sweatpants. She squeezed the trigger.
Again, the punch-to-the-gut feeling, but much milder this time. A warm tingle spread through her legs, a sensation of her muscles tightening and reshaping beneath the fabric. She waited, holding her breath.
Slowly, subtly, she could feel the difference. Her legs felt heavier, more grounded. She flexed her thigh, and a distinct bulge appeared beneath the sweatpants. It wasn't huge, but it was undeniably there. A solid, defined muscle where before there had only been soft flesh.
She ripped off the sweatpants and stared at her legs in the mirror. The change was remarkable. Her thighs were thicker, more sculpted, with a clear separation between the quadriceps and hamstrings. She bent down and touched them, marveling at the hardness.
Her heart pounded in her chest. This was incredible. She could reshape her body, sculpt herself into the ideal she’d always imagined. The possibilities seemed endless, but the inherent risk tempered her excitement.
What was she going to do with this thing? She could become a fitness model, a bodybuilder, even a superhero! The thought made her laugh. But what if it had long-term effects? What if she changed too much, became someone unrecognizable?
The image of the frail scientist in the lab flashed through her mind. He had warned her. This was a powerful technology, and she was playing with fire.
Suddenly, the desire for more muscle faded, replaced by a cold wave of apprehension. Maybe she should just put the gun back, pretend she never found it. But the temptation was too strong. She had tasted the power, and now she wanted to understand it, to control it.
She needed information. She needed to know exactly what this gun was capable of, and what the potential consequences were. And the only way to find out was to experiment... cautiously.
Her eyes narrowed, a new determination hardening her gaze. This wasn't just about bigger muscles anymore. This was about knowledge, about control, about understanding a power that could change everything.
And she would be the one to wield it. But first, she needed a plan. And maybe, just maybe, she needed a bigger bra.
What would Amanda do now?
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