Blossom reveled in the stares from the men and women alike as she sought a likely target. Even in a big city, someone like her would be sure to turn heads. Not that there truly was anyone like her, not yet. But this mall should serve her purposes nicely. Yes, she'd cased the area earlier, and found a bathroom where she knew there would be no security camera surveillance.
Let them stare! Let them stare at the way her tight, white cocktail dress hugged her impossible curves and accentuated each soft swell of her hyper-voluptuous figure. And then there were her breasts. Jiggling mountains of jutting roundness that erupted from the top opening of her dress as if struggling to escape. Blossom knew what the shoppers and teenagers would be thinking as she strutted past the Health-Foods store, grip tightening on her black duffel bag she carried in her left hand, her purse slung over her right shoulder. Blossom was on her way to a hallway that ended in the bathrooms. And the stares, the disbelieving stares. The shape and curvature of her bosom suggested that the unlikely mammaries were real, but that couldn't be possible could it? Surely no woman alive could have ripe melons so vast, healthy and plump; not without extensive plastic surgery. But No, her voluminous endowments moved with too much natural softness to be bought from a surgeon. It was a bustiness that people would assume could not be humanly possible.
And they'd be right.
Ah! Yes! Heading towards the bathrooms right now; two very likely targets. One was a heavily overweight, forty-to-fiftyish black woman with close-shaven hair, a bloated figure, and not a hint of glamour. The sort of woman who was most likely lashing out against a beauty ideal she thought she couldn't match, by abandoning even a pretense of sex-appeal. The other older, white. Withered and aged, too weakened and tired to care any longer about clinging to a long-lost youth. They did not acknowledge each other at all. That was good; two strangers. Harder for anyone to make the connection.
Before Blossom slipped in behind the two of them, she stuck a printed sign that read "OUT OF ORDER" on the ladies' room door. Then, she removed from her pink purse a strange, metal rod with a button on the side.
There was a third person in the ladies' room. Much younger than the first two, but the mouse-haired girl had a long-suffering, dejected look and walked with a limp. Could be an old injury, maybe congenital deformity. But her disfigurement barred her from the full joys of life and love and womanhood. Her eyes flitted about furtively with a shyness borne of lifelong disappointment and meek regret.
But that was about to change. Dramatically.
Three of them! Three! And they were all ideal candidates! This would be her best test of the Process since coming to this city! Blossom suppressed a moan of pure pleasure, as from within her shoulder-length, platinum blond hair, a living flower-bud pushed upwards and began to open of its own accord. None of her targets seemed to notice, but it wouldn't have mattered.
None of them would leave until she was done with them.
Her metal rod expanded to four times its prior length with the press of a button, and from the ends suction pads emerged that tilted back towards the door. Blossom stuck the device inside the metal loop of the door handle, and it attached itself with a sharp click. No one else would be able to interfere now.
The black woman turned, and seemed like she was about to protest, and Blossom knew it was better to act quickly. She was already fully prepared. Inside Blossoms purse, there was a button, and a heavy, hard container of liquid. She had kept the mechanism primed for firing at an instant's notice, and that instant had come.
From a hard-to-notice nozzle at the lower corner of the pink purse a powerful spray of pinkish gel erupted in a furious, high-pressure stream. They three women screamed and flailed and thrashed. But they had no chance. In less than a second, they were doused thoroughly. The pink gel reacted with oxygen in the air and began to foam. The foam reacted with their skin and started yet more biochemical excitement.
"Sooooon..." Blossom purred. This batch was as strong as anything she could have hoped for! She waved the sprayer around to ensure that each target got a near-equal dose, and that it was a full dose. Her best chance yet! Soon, the pink foam would melt away, but the transformations began long before that.
Skin tightened, smoothed, softened. Fat melted, muscles toned. Flesh rippled as every single cell was penetrated by the cascading effect. Every single cell was accelerated in a way that defied the understanding of modern medicine. A Process so fast, so thorough could not be entirely pleasant, but the pain and pleasure mingled together in an electrifying experience that would be engraved in the minds of each woman for the rest of their lives. As fast as it was, it would still be nearly five minutes before the eventual results would be clear.
Blossom tilted her head as a crackling sound reached her ears through the thrashing, foam-covered masses that flailed and twitched frantically on the tiled floor. Yes, bones being reformed. Natural, flawed bodies remade by the Process into works of living art. Penetrating yelps emerged from each throat in turn, and the women regained enough muscular control to try standing.
The first to try was the elderly woman; Once elderly. But the moist, dripping creature pulling herself up on the counter better resembled a lush teenager who had been gifted with a plastic-surgery shopping spree for her eighteenth birthday. The withered crone could in no way be recognized as herself any longer. Amber-gold hair dripped with moisture as the new creature studied herself in the mirror. Luminous green eyes, kissable Jessica Alba lips, tight and high-sitting breasts with not a hint of sag. Skin as smooth and supple as a perfumed soap-bubble. A floral-patterned old-biddie dress slipped away from the soft curves of her delicious nudity, no longer needed or missed. Confusion etching her now-youthful features.
The girl-woman grunted and clutched at her naked chest, the transformation not yet complete around her bosom. Full and healthy C-cup orange-sized handfuls began to twitch and throb, and Blossom knew that she would grow yet further from mere youthful beauty to a pornographic grandeur of bust and hip that would paint her as a creature that could not help but ooze sex appeal.
"Can....hardly wait." Blossom grunted, as the girl-woman expanded three inches in twice as many seconds, her twin-torpedoes jiggling as they grew through a bushel of fruit-like analogues, in ten seconds going from respectably attractive to honeydew melon assets with diamond-hard nipples. "Not long now," Blossom declared, as she began to strip. Her own explosively-massive bosom erupted in jiggling arcs as she tugged down her white cocktail dress, her expansive breasts thrusting into the flourescent light like twin blasphemies against the ideals of feminism.
By now, the black woman was also pulling herself to her feet, clinging to the far wall of the bathroom in an erotic haze. Her several hundred pounds of sexless weight has largely dissolved into the foam around her, leaving a svelte and trim goddess of chocolate desire. Her deliberately shortened hair had run rampant into cascading black curls of glistening ebony that paraded down past her shoulders. She was the sort of woman born for a sleazy rap video that glorified the ideal of woman as sex-object; which she had now become.
Her face and form, melted down and recast in a mold of fertile youth, bore a resemblance to an illicit love-child of Aaliyah and Rihanna, yet with a sweeping elegance of face and form superior to either. Blossom doubted there was a man on Earth who would be able to resist forcing himself and his hardening penis upon her, should she be seen like this.
The third woman, the younger one was curled up in the corner, twitching. She was neither old nor fat, but crippled. Her transformation should be different from the others; It would be interesting when she revealed the full effect the Process would work upon her!
Blossom had already began stripping, and she was forced to curtail her excitement and prepare herself for the next phase of the plan. Her purpose was not by any means finished. She stepped out of her white dress pulled down around her hips, clad only in silver high-heels, she began to finger herself. To rub and caress the folds of her own womanhood.
In preparation.
The last one, the younger one. Tried to stand next. She used a stall partition to leverage herself to her feet. Such a dizzying transformation produced moments of terrifying vertigo. Blossom smiled, and nodded like a sculptor examining a masterpiece. This was a reaction which; in retrospect seemed logical, but which she did not anticipate beforehand. The younger woman, once a bland, frumpy cripple had been enhanced by the Process in a way that was most spectacular.
Whereas the overweight black woman had lost much of her mass into the foam to become a slim sex-pot, the crippled girl had absorbed almost every drop of the transformative fluid near her to power a surprising reaction. She seemed to have gained over a foot in height. Bronzed skin bulged with toned muscles on a figure that could have belonged to an award-winning fitness model - if only her boobs weren't at least an E-cup. Her hair shifted into a reddish gold, and she moaned with a deep, coiled strength.
But Blossom still had a few moments yet before Phase two. Each of the women would be disoriented and unthinking as their breasts expanded to their new sizes.
The Teenager was ready; the oldest of all the targets, but now the Process had recast her in a form to make it virtually impossible to buy alcohol without I.D. Smooth, creamy, unlined skin, so perfect it was almost eerie. She was able to sink her graceful fingers into each tit, burying them up past the second knuckle easily by the swelling bounty of perky womanflesh. Blossom caressed the youthened sex-creature on her soft face tenderly.
"You are the first to ripen, my pet." Blossom informed her with a toothy grin.
"Ohhhhhhh....."
"Tell me your name; who did you used to be?" That could be crucial.
Latisha
