Surprise! I was editing several other stories when an idea hit me to continue this little string of yarn. One of these days I'll get around to publishing the next chapter of Irresistible Johnson and a few others you folks keep bugging me about. In the meantime, expect some new stuff coming, too. And please, never stop bugging me. It helps motivate this writer, vain as that might be.
This one is going to require another chapter or two, but it's pretty long. I only edited it once, so please forgive trivial errors and the JUNK SCIENCE. To be fair, I'm doing nothing more than taking the original concept, turning it on its head, and adding a little more spice. Be warned: this first segment sets up a lot of the story, but stays pretty soft. For those who demand hardcore action in all their erotica, this may not be suited for you. It is heavy on the Exhibitionism theme. It may travel other directions in the future.
*****
The flash of light left Emily Mockingbird blinded. A moment ago she had been in a dark alley walking home to the new flat she recently leased. It had lots of open space, high ceilings and large windows, everything she wanted. In Emily's mind, it was a compromise. It was higher rent and more expensive to heat, but it was close to work and the environment was congruent for her art. She worked in a museum, but Emily had yet to share her own art with anyone. She hoped this year maybe she would get the courage to do so.
Living only a few blocks from the museum meant Emily could save money on travel. She ditched the car and now walked to work, and the nearby grocery store when needed. Uber rides handled the rest. It saved considerably over car notes, parking fees, gas and insurance.
When Emily first started walking home, it had been no problem. Every weekday at 6:30, she left the museum and strolled four and a half blocks to her flat. The neighborhood was gentrified and while the streets were well lit, and law enforcement patrolled the area regularly, it wasn't always enough. A group of punks who hung out near a seedy bar on the corner of Fifth and Washington took notice of Emily's new routine and by the second week, they would always be outside waiting on her.
These punks, for no better term, would harass Emily with cat-calls and sometimes surround her, making her feel awkward and unsafe. After this happened on several occasions, Emily started taking the alley from Fifth to Glover Avenue, and walked to the back entrance of her flat. It kept her from bumping into those assholes, but it was kind of dark and scary. At first, she wondered if she was better off just keeping to the main streets, but instead of getting jumped by transients or punks, the alley only appeared more intimidating than it actually was. Dark and dirty, but otherwise vacant. After taking the route a few times, Emily felt fine about it.
Until now.
This time, as Emily was about halfway through the alley, something appeared to drop from the sky in front of her. Before she could react, a bright light flashed off in her head sending her reeling back. She fell to the ground. Emily was about to scream when a voice sounded off in her head. It didn't sound like a normal voice, or like she heard it with her ears, more like it was telepathically inserted into her brain.
"Emily, don't fear," said the voice.
"You no longer need fear," said another voice, a softer one.
Emily was rubbing her eyes, trying to focus, but all she could see was white light and black circles. "I.. I can't see.. What's happening?" Emily put one hand to the ground to lift herself up. The other was still rubbing her eyes, trying to hold back the now-fading light.
"Calm now, child. We're here to help."
"Help me with what?" Emily was trembling, but managed to get back to her feet. Her vision seemed to be coming back, yet in front of her were two humanoid images she couldn't fully make out, as if she couldn't focus on either them specifically - like they stood behind a light, with static and visual noise interfering.
"You no longer need to be afraid. You no longer need to hide from others."
The deeper voice broke in now, and Emily could see that one of the humanoid images was expressing itself with its limbs (if that's what you called them). "No more hiding, Emily. The more you expose yourself, the stronger you become."
"What? I don't... what do you mean?"
The smaller figure with the softer voice stepped forward.. or it looked like it did, yet it didn't appear to be any closer after the fact. Emily was freaking out over the assault to her senses as she engaged with these otherworldly entities. "It's your time, Emily. We've been watching you."
"My time? Watching me? What? Why? Why me?"
The deeper voice, "Consider it... a lottery... with no particular reason why you were selected."
"Selected? Selected for what?" Emily continued rubbing her eyes, even though she was aware it served no purpose in better focusing on the things standing before her. She was nervous, but somehow didn't feel in danger for her life.
The softer voice spoke again, "Emily, this gift is yours. You no longer hide and you become stronger. More confident. Everything you want."
"What? What do you mean by that?" Emily cried, frustrated. She wasn't understanding any of this.
The voice continued, "You no longer need to hide down alleys. You no longer need to hide from criticism. You no longer need to hide your gifts from others."
The deeper voice: "You must expose yourself. Give yourself away, believe in yourself, and you will gain the strength you need to conquer your fears."
"Give myself away? What?" Emily stomped her foot, aggravated the creatures would not explain themselves more clearly.
The images began to flicker and for some reason, Emily knew they were leaving. The deeper voice spoke last, "We will be watching. Trust yourself. Expose yourself. Conquer everything."
Suddenly, another flash of light erupted in the alley - or maybe it was simply in her mind, Emily wasn't sure - and the alien figures were gone. Emily looked back and forth, then up in the sky, but there was no trace of anyone... or anything.
"What the fuck was that all about?" whispered Emily to herself, as she picked her purse up off the ground.
She jumped back the moment she caught sight of her very own body. She examined it more closely to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Her breasts had to have been a cup size bigger, maybe two. And she was a C-cup before! Emily briefly pulled the top of her shirt away from her collar and glanced down. Her tits and excess areola were pouring over her bra, cleavage everywhere. She let go, the shirt snapping back in place.
"What in the hell is this?" she cried. She looked further down. Under her skirt were toner legs, feeling slightly thinner perhaps. Emily wasn't large to begin with, but now she looked as if she had the legs of an athlete. She grabbed her butt, feeling a firmer build to it, with a bit more curve to it, too. "Have I gone insane?"
Emily held her purse tight and ran down the alley. In fact, she ran all the way home. Ten minutes later she was undressed and standing before her full length mirror, jaw aghast. She still looked like herself, but it was as if she was now transformed into the hottest version of herself there could be.
"Bordering on bimbo," she muttered, but by no means was Emily upset with the change. She hadn't ever asked for such a gift, but she wasn't going to pretend she didn't love looking so incredibly hot. It wasn't just that she was "attractive" or "pretty" - no, she was flat-out hot!
Emily's legs, being a bit thinner now, it made them appear longer. They were tight and hard with muscle. Her waist had not an ounce of fat on it as far as she tell, and her stomach displayed just a hint of abs, though they also felt hard as brick. Normally, Emily would say that such huge, pendulous breasts, as she had possessed, were too large on any woman, yet secretly she thought they looked very sexy on her thin frame. Emily knew she would be resigned to turning men's heads for the rest of her life with these beauties. She also loved how the long, meaty nipples that were centered on them, were practically guaranteed to poke through most material. Emily giggled at the thought of wearing tight blouses at work with this figure.
She must have touched and played with her new body half the night before finally dozing off, eager to go to work the next day, practically a new woman. Emily wasn't sure exactly what those alien things had done to her, but it seemed pretty magical and amazing so far.
____________
Emily was right about turning heads. She had no time to shop for new clothes and had to go without a bra the next day. None in her possession fit her new shape. It didn't seem that big a deal to Emily, considering how nice her tits looked under her blouse. Though they were pendulous and huge, there was a youthful firmness to them. Sure, there was a lot more bounce without a bra, but it would do for one day, she thought.
But while Emily walked to work, she turned almost every head imaginable. She took her normal route, knowing she wouldn't cross paths with the punks in the morning hours. Horns honked, men stopped in their tracks, and even two women on the street took double takes. Emily smiled to herself. She was liking the attention. Phil Anderson practically rushed Emily when she stepped into the office. "Emily! What? What happened? Uh... are you? Are... uh... is there something different about you?" He was eyeing her up and down, not knowing how to articulate what he was seeing.
Phil was Emily's boss, the man behind the donors. Emily may have been the new face of the museum as the curator, but Phil was the one who really pulled the strings. Emily smiled, almost blushing, but didn't admit the obvious changes to her body. The skirt she was wearing was certainly short enough to showcase the changes in her legs, and she kind of wished that she hadn't buttoned her blouse all the way up. Showing off the new cleavage may have some thrills, she thought.
"Oh, nothing much different. Just thought I might dress a little more... assertively." Emily winked and walked to her desk, putting her purse down. "What's on the agenda today?"
"Um.. nothing today," huffed Phil, walking back to his own desk, scratching his head. He always found Emily attractive, even before now, but something seemed to make her more appealing than before. He could barely take his eyes off her. "Farnsworth is coming over tomorrow to work on his exhibit, though."
Emily didn't think it was possible to find anyone more pompous on the planet than Bernard Farnsworth. A grouchy 60-year-old artist, whose main claim to fame was a series of impressionist paintings he did over thirty years ago. He dressed like a hipster, grasping for his youth, while talking down to anyone who wasn't as "experienced" as he was. Emily wasn't exactly thrilled she would have to cater to his demands.
