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This story takes place in the same world as my story Twisted. Twisted Pink "Go long," I called to my friend Cody as I threw a football as hard as I could. Cody ran down the length of the long yard beside my house, missing the ball and earning a few good-natured insults. "What's the matter?" I teased him. "Wash your hands with butter again?" "No Mark, you just need to learn how to throw better," Cody called back with a broad grin. Cody and I were best friends, having known each other since we were both in elementary school. He even lived just across the street from me so we spent almost every day hanging out together. Lately we'd both been spending a lot of time playing football, hoping that we'd be good enough to join the school team next year. Our chances were fairly good, in large part because we lived in a small town that didn't offer a whole lot of competition. I grinned as Cody came back to me with the ball in hand. He was fifteen, the same age as me though he was just a little taller. And where my hair was really dark, his was a sandy blonde. I was also a better athlete than him, a fact that I loved to tease him about on occasion. "So," I grinned, "you want to try again? I can try throwing a real long pass..." "Or I could pass to you," Cody shrugged. "That way you could show me how badly your hands are buttered." "Maybe," I laughed. "Or maybe I'll show you how bad you really are." "So," Cody asked after a moment, "I know your birthday is in a couple weeks. Have your folks said anything about having a big party?" "No," I shrugged. "It's not really my birthday anyway. You know that." "Oh yeah," Cody blushed, "I forgot about that..." I frowned and thought about my birthday, or my unbirthday as it were. I had no idea what day I was really born or even what my real name was since my birth mom had abandoned me at an orphanage when I was only a couple months old. Fortunately, I hadn't been there for even a year before my new parents came and adopted me. I was eternally grateful to them for that since I didn't know who or where I'd be without them. "So," Cody asked, changing the subject, "are you going to ask Lisa Cartright out? I know you've been drooling over her for months." "Maybe," I blushed, "I'm just waiting for the right time." "Uh huh," Cody nodded, "Sure you are." Then he grinned, "She sure has filled out over the last year. You remember a couple years ago when she was completely flat chested..." "Yeah," I grimaced, remembering an unfortunate incident where I'd teased Lisa about never being big enough to wear a bra. I just hoped that she didn't remember it. That would surely blow my chances for a date with her to hell. Just then, I heard a low humming sound and turned to see a sleek looking car going past on the road. The bottom of the car was a full foot above the road, which wasn't too surprising considering that it was one of those new hover cars. They weren't exactly new, having been around for nearly ten years. However, they were fairly expensive so we didn't see many of them around town. "Damn," Cody whistled, "I'd love to drive one of those." "Me too," I agreed, thinking about how much a car like that would impress Lisa and just about every other girl. Then Cody looked down at his watch and grimaced, "Damn. I've gotta go." "There's a bush you can go behind over there," I teased. Cody just rolled his eyes, "My folks volunteered me to go over and help Reverend Jack paint his shed." "Ouch," I winced, remembering Cody complaining about that earlier. "You want to come and help?" Cody asked hopefully. "No thanks," I told him with a look of mock disappointment. "My mom has some chores she wanted me to do around the house." I said good-bye to Cody and waved to him as he hurried across the street to his house, then I grabbed my football and went back to mine. As soon as stepped in the door, I was assaulted with the smell of fresh baked bread. I was nearly drooling at that but knew that I've to be patient and wait for my mom to offer it. Then I turned my attention to my sister Grace who was sitting in the middle of the floor and playing with her dolls. Grace wasn't my biological sister but I loved her just the same as if she was, though I'd never tell her that. She was seven years old and as my mom said, cute as a button... whatever that means. "Hi Mark," Grace waved to me. "You wanna play dolls with me?" I looked to her small collection of dolls, all of them those blonde Barbie's with dimensions that were impossible for real women. They were all wearing pink outfits, which happened to match the pink plastic car and the pink playhouse Grace had for them. The very sight made me feel nauseous. "No thanks," I told Grace. "I'm a guy. I don't play dolls. I play football." I held up my ball for her to see. "Please," Grace begged with those puppy dog eyes that made it hard to say no. "I told you no," I snapped. Just then my mom stepped into the room and gave me one of 'those looks'. It was the kind that said she wasn't angry but that she was about to get very insistent about something. I'd seen her use that same look a number of times, including last week right before she had me and my dad spend the whole day cleaning out the garage. It usually wasn't a good sign. "Mark Leland Brown," she said using my full name, which was an even worse sign. "You sit down and play with your sister. You two don't spend enough quality time together." "But mom," I protested with a sinking feeling in my gut. "No buts," she told me with that look that brooked no arguments. However, I did try to argue and protest for another minute, but in the end I ended up doing my mom said, just as I knew I would. I sat down on the floor beside Grace, letting out an exasperated sigh as I looked over her collection of girlie toys. She had a half dozen of the dolls with all their pink accessories. "Don't these things come in anything other than pink?" I asked Grace as I picked up a bright pink toy boat. "Pink's pretty," Grace said insistently, giving me a look that had hints of my mom's look in it. I had a feeling that one day her look would be fully developed and she'd terrorize her own kids with it. "Whatever," I rolled my eyes, knowing that it was pointless to argue about something like that. "Here," Grace said, handing me one of her dolls, "you play with this one..." I accepted the doll with a sigh of, "Just great." The doll was the same as all the others with the blonde hair and well developed figure. This one was also dressed in some sort of pink business suit that even included a pink briefcase. I supposed that at least it was better than the one in the pink ballerina outfit which Grace seemed to like. "I'll be the mommy and you be the little girl," Grace told me, pointing to our dolls. "This doesn't look like a little girl to me," I told her with a smirk. I rolled my eyes, wondering how I could have possibly ended up playing dolls on the floor with my little sister. This was humiliating and I knew that I'd just die if Cody or anyone else found out. I grimaced as the sudden thought that my mom might take a picture of us and use it as blackmail material later on. Fortunately, mom didn't come in with a camera, though she did come and check on us several times, or at least checked on me to make sure I was still with Grace. I was really regretting my decision not to go help Cody. Painting a shed might be work, but at least it wasn't embarrassing. Suddenly, I felt a strange tingling rush through my body like a wave that came out of nowhere. I gasped as every hair on the back of my arms stood on end, as though I was caught in a bunch of static electricity. Then it all exploded through my at once, filling my body with fire and making me feel like I'd just been struck by lightning. The raw force of it was indescribable and I think I screamed though I wasn't sure. Everything went black a moment later. I awoke some time later, still laying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. My body was tingling and felt very strange but it didn't hurt. I gulped in fear, wondering what was wrong with me. Did I just have a stroke or something? I was way too young for something like that but it was the only thing I could think of unless I actually had been struck by lightning. That wasn't too likely though either since the sky had been clear. "What...?" I blinked, finding myself too weak to move much. "You're awake," my mom exclaimed, coming over and standing above me. She stared at me with a strange expression but didn't bent over to get any closer. "Mark...?" "Yeah...," I responded weakly. My mom's eyes went wide and she gulped visibly. Then both my dad and Doctor Grissom came to stand over me, making me realize that I must have been out of it for awhile. Dad had been at work while I was playing with Grace and Doctor Grissom worked on the other side of town. I suddenly felt even more terrified than before. Dad just stood there, staring down at me with an unreadable expression. He didn't say a word though which only made me more worried, which I wouldn't have thought possible. "What's wrong with me?" I asked weakly, my voice sounding strange to my ears. Doctor Grissom didn't answer, but he did bent over to look at me a little more closely. He put a hand on my forehead, grimacing as he did so. Then he looked me over, obviously not pleased with what he saw. "What's wrong with me?" I asked again, this time forcing myself to sit up a bit. It was much harder than I ever would have thought and I became aware of a huge weight on my chest. I stared down at myself, gasping in shock to see my chest swelling out into two huge bumps. "What happened to him?" my dad finally asked grimly. "What the hell happened to Mark?" "He was just playing with Grace," mom blurted out tearfully. "Then Grace screamed and..." She shook her head and then stared at me, "He turned into this..."' "There's only one thing it can be," Doctor Grissom said, looking down at me with a look of extreme distaste. "He's Twisted." "Twisted?" mom gasped in horror. "Twisted?" I repeated, feeling horrified myself. There was no way I could be Twisted... Everyone knew that the Twisted were complete freaks, that they were unnatural mutations and monsters. Everyone knew that. And the only way you could even be Twisted was if your parents or grandparents had survived the Kinkaid Virus...the Antarctic Flu... "No," I gasped in shock, remembering that I had absolutely no idea who my biological parents were. For all I knew, they could both be Twisted. "NO!" I struggled to sit up more and get a better look at myself. All I could see though were the two large mounds growing from my chest. I had been covered with a blanked that hid my lower body but I didn't even want to think about moving it yet. I just stared down at my chest, slowly realizing that the two mounds looked like boobs... It looked like I had boobs like some girl. Big ones too... "How can he be Twisted?" my dad demanded angrily. Doctor Grissom scowled. "The way other people are Twisted. It's a side effect of a genetic mutation caused by the Kinkaid virus. I never suspected that Mark could be one of them..." He shook his head. "I've never seen a real Twisted before..." "Is there anything we can do?" mom demanded. "Can we cure him?" "There is no cure," Doctor Grissom stated, giving me a quick glare as though this was all my fault. "Fortunately, being Twisted isn't contagious." I could only sit there, too shocked to say anything. In fact, I could barely even think. This was just too much. It was too shocking. It was a nightmare. That's it, I decided. I was having a nightmare. I'd wake up and everything would be back to normal. I kept willing myself to wake up but it didn't do any good. Doctor Grissom and my parents continued to talk as though I wasn't there while I remained where I was, too stunned to join the conversation even if they did want to include me. All I could do was stare down at myself, trying to make sense of it all. I felt myself getting a little stronger and I could move more easily, but at the moment I didn't really want to move. The only movements I wanted to make was to curl up into a little ball, or maybe get up and run away from myself as fast as I could. I held my hand up and stared at it, gulping as I did so. It looked like a girl's hand. It looked all feminine and I even had long fingernails. The very sight was enough to make me stare at my chest again, feeling a knot in my stomach. I shook for a moment, beginning to realize how I had changed and not liking it one little bit. While Doctor Grissom and my parents were occupied with themselves, I slowly slipped one hand under the blanket, feeling my legs and finding that they were now soft and smooth. I felt sick at that and even more so when I felt my crotch. It was flat and empty. The only thing I could feel there was...was a slit. I felt as though I was going to empty my stomach. By this time, I thought I felt well enough to stand up. I wrapped the blanket tightly around me, even lifting it up high enough to cover my chest. I blushed horribly as I did this, then I stood up. I was weak and shaky and my legs felt something like rubber, but I managed to get to my feet and stand. That action finally caused Doctor Grissom and my parents to notice me again. "Is that really you?" mom asked me with a look of stunned disbelief, even as she stared at my face. "I think so," I whispered, not sure what else to say. I felt so wrong and uncomfortable. Then I turned to Doctor Grissom, "Can you fix me...?" I pleaded with him. "Is there any way to put me back to normal?" Doctor Grissom stared at me for a moment, finally showing the first look of sympathy that I'd seen from him today. "I'm afraid not," he told me. "There's no cure for the Twist. It's all genetic." "There must be something we can do," dad insisted, giving me a strange look. Doctor Grissom shook his head. "There's nothing more I can do except suggest you read up on the Twisted." After this Doctor Grissom had a few more words for my parents and then he left. I turned to my parents, both of whom looked extremely uncomfortable around me. I winced at the looks on their faces, feeling horribly hurt. But I understood exactly how they felt. I sure as hell didn't want to be some kind of Twisted freak. I didn't know what to say to them or what I wanted them to say to me. Just then, Grace came into the room, staring at me with a look of stunned disbelief and worry. "Are you really Mark?" she asked quietly. "I told you to stay in your room," mom snapped at Grace, who only winced but continued looking at me. "I...I don't know," I winced. While mom was ushering Grace back to her room, I hurried to my own room and locked the door behind me. I threw myself onto my bed and just lay there, refusing to look at my transformed body. I could feel the differences. Everything was just...wrong. I wanted to scream but knew that it wouldn't do any good. While I laid there, I eventually became aware of something else. I felt...antsy. I couldn't think of how else to describe it. It was as though I wanted something...even craved it. Unfortunately, I had no idea what this thing was. I was getting more and more uncomfortable because of this as well as my new body. It was enough to drive me insane. "Please change back to normal," I begged my body. Unfortunately, it did no good. Nor had I really expected it would. Eventually I sat up and looked myself over without the blanket in the way. I single look was enough to tell me that I looked completely like a girl, though I already knew that much. I had long legs, a thin waist and big boobs that seemed surprisingly firm. I didn't know what to make of my new body though I knew I wanted my old one back. "This isn't me," I grimaced in frustration. After looking my body over, my curiosity got too strong. I had to see what I looked like. I wrapped myself up in the blanket again and left he brief safety of my room, hurrying the short distance across the hall into the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and then turned to face myself in the mirror, gasping as I did so. The reflection in the mirror was not me by any stretch of the imagination, or at least not anything that I associated with 'me'. It was a girl my own age but much more developed than any I'd ever seen in real life. I had long, golden blonde hair that went down to my ass. I ran my hands through it, finding it surprisingly soft and smooth. My face was gorgeous, with big blue eyes and pouty lips. I already knew from my self examination that I had a killer body, but seeing it was something else entirely. "Holy shit," I exclaimed, suddenly reminded of Grace's Barbie dolls. I did look a lot like one of Grace's dolls, or at least as much as a human could. I had big breasts that I knew where too firm and high for any real woman of that size to possess. I had an hourglass figure with a waist so thin it looked like I was wearing a corset. And my legs were just a bit too long to be normal. These traits weren't quite as exaggerated as they were in the dolls, but they were there enough for me to notice. "I've become a human Barbie doll," I cried out in horror. I continued staring at myself and examining my body with a strange sense of horrified curiosity. I dreaded what I saw but I had to look at it anyway. My body seemed completely alien to me as I looked it over but I couldn't stop. "I'm a Twisted freak," I winced as I said it, knowing it was true. Nothing but being Twisted could possibly explain why I had changed like this. If my parents...my real parents really were Twisted, it was no wonder they got rid of me. Who'd want a kid they knew was going to be a Twisted freak? I looked over my body, noticing a number of strange things, mostly in that it seemed a bit too perfect. I didn't have a single hair on my body below my neck. I was completely smooth, even in my nether regions. I didn't even have any flaws in my skin. I didn't have any scars, moles, or blemishes of any kind. It truly was like I had become some kind of living doll. "I think I'm gonna be sick," I grimaced. Unable to help myself, I forced a smile, seeing that even my teeth all looked perfect. They were all straight, even, and white. I ran my tongue inside my mouth, well aware of just how different they all felt. I missed the small gap between my front teeth that was no longer there. In its place I had a perfect smile that sent chills down my spine. "At least I'm not the size of a doll," I told myself, trying to think of the bright side. I shuddered at the thought but it didn't really cheer me up. I left the bathroom a minute later, still in shock from all my changes. At the same time, I was still feeling that strange craving for something. It was driving me insane, especially as it grew stronger. I wanted something... needed something. And I didn't even know what it was I wanted so bad. When I stepped into the hallway, wrapped once again in my blanket, I saw Grace standing there. She was staring at me with a look of amazement, as well as one of concern. It was strange seeing more concern for me from my little sister than from either of my parents, but somehow more appropriate too. However, my eyes immediately locked not on Grace but on the pink jacket she was wearing. My eyes went wide and I gasped to realize that this was what I was craving... Her jacket looked so pretty... That color was so soothing and calming. I ached to just grab it immediately. At it was, I put my hand on Grace's shoulder, having to touch that pink with my own hands. "I'm sorry Mark," Grace said tearfully, "I didn't mean to change you..." "It's not your fault," I said absently, thinking about that soothing pink. On an impulse, I asked, "Can I hold your jacket?" Grace looked at me with a confused expression but took off her jacket. She handed it over to me and I sighed in relief as I clutched it tightly in my arms. If it would have fit me, I would have immediately put it on in order to be closer to the color. It was absolutely perfect... "But it's pink," I said after a minute, confused by my own emotions. I hated pink...but not when I looked at it. In fact, the very thought of pink made me smile faintly. I knew that I hated it intellectually, or at least that I had. But my emotions said something else entirely. It was as though pink had suddenly become my favorite color. "What's happening to me...?" I tried to give Grace her jacket back but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just had to keep this lovely pink. I wanted...no...I NEEDED the pink. It was the perfect color. All my worries seemed to slip away as I clutched her jacket. Pink was the perfect security blanket. "Can I borrow this for awhile?" I asked Grace, my voice shaking as I did so. I didn't know what I'd do if she said no. "Okay," Grace responded with a look of confusion. "Thank you," I told her with a sigh of relief. "But you're too big to wear it silly," Grace told me. "That's okay," I told her, hurrying back into the safety of my room. Now that I had the comfort of Grace's pink jacket, I was able to relax a little. Things didn't seem quite as bad, though of course they were still absolutely horrible. But the pink security blanket of her jacket was comforting enough for me to at least be able take a few breaths and think things through. I had no idea what I was going to do now. I had no idea of what was going to happen to me. Hell, I didn't even understand who I was and what had already happened to me. I had suddenly become a stranger in my own skin. But as I sat there clutching Grace's jacket, I remembered Doctor Grissom's advice about reading up in the Twisted. "What else can I do?" I cried, wiping the tears from my cheeks though they continued to flow. I went to my computer, thankful that my dad had decided I was responsible enough to have one in my own room last year. It had even been his birthday present to me. I sat down in front of my computer with the jacket on my lap and began to search for information on the Twisted. "Holy Shit," I gasped as my search brought up a long list of information sources. I spent the next hour looking through the various sources of information, finding that most of them weren't really helpful. There were a few that seemed to be written by religious leaders claiming that the Twisted were either transformed because of their sins or were possessed by some sort of devils. I did find one that suggested the opposite, that the Twisted were actually blessed by God. "Not what I need," I said, hoping I could find something a little more practical. Then I found a bunch of stuff from a Senator who claimed that the Twisted were actually being possessed or at least controlled by beings from another dimension. I'd heard those rumors before, especially around town. I'd even heard my dad talking about them once or twice, which made me glance to my bedroom door nervously. Eventually though, I found a site from some guy who claimed to be a Twisted himself. He gave all sorts of information about the Twisted, giving all sorts of scientific references and quoting personal experiences. I didn't know if this was any more real than the other things I'd read, but at least this one made an attempt to be scientific about it. The site started off telling me what I already knew, about the Antarctic Flu epidemic that swept over North America about fifty years ago. It infected a lot of people and killed 60% of those infected. However, it also did something to the DNA of those who survived so that their kids and grand kids ended up becoming Twisted. There was all sorts of fancy scientific jargon about what the Twisted really were but I just glossed over that since it didn't make much sense to me. For the most part, it basically came down to the Twisted being like antennas that touched a quantum field...whatever that was. That was what changed them. I soon came to the part that really caught my attention. It said that the first time someone touched this quantum field, the energy would rush through them and transform them in some way. The said this was called the Twist. But the way he described it sounded almost identical to what I'd gone through. "So I went through a Twist," I said bitterly. What I read next sent chills down my spine again. It said that the Twist could change people in body, mind, or even soul...though he referred to the last as personality. It seemed the same thing to me though. My body had definitely been changed but what about my other things? I didn't think my personality had been changed but I couldn't be sure. "Then there's this," I said, looking at the pink jacket. I'd never liked pink before but now I couldn't get enough of it. It was like I had actually become addicted to a color. It made no sense to me at first, but then I kept reading from the web site and realized what it was. The guy said that a lot of Twisted had some sort of compulsion, and this was obviously mine. "Just great," I winced in disgust, "I've got a compulsion that makes me addicted to pink." It seemed like the most ridiculous thing in the world, especially when I said it aloud like that. There were other things on the page too, such as it saying that most Twisted have at least one kind of power due to this connection to the quantum field. Except he didn't say power. He referred to these powers as tricks. I didn't think I had any kind of weird powers, or at least I certainly hadn't noticed any. It would have been nice though to have at least gotten something cool out of this whole situation. The last piece of information made me clench my fists in anger, even though my nails dug painfully into my palm. It said that when you went through the Twist, what you were doing at the time usually played a large part in how you were changed. I'd been playing dolls with Grace, so I had been turned into some sort of human doll. And since the dolls all had pink accessories and clothes, that seemed to explain my new fondness for the color. "No," I grimaced, desperately wishing that I'd been doing something else, even working with Cody. "It's not fair... It's just not fair..." I went and curled up on my bed for several more hours, alternating between checking out my body again and completely ignoring it. I even ignored the knocking on my bedroom door and the calls to come out for dinner. Mom and dad didn't try to get my attention too hard though so I guess they didn't really want to face me like this any more than I wanted to face them. I eventually went to sleep there, still clutching Grace's pink jacket. I didn't sleep very well which was no surprise. I had a hard time getting comfortable, especially when my new boobs kept getting on the way. I couldn't sleep on my stomach like I normally do and sleeping on my back only made me more aware of the weight on my chest. Then once I did get asleep, the dreams were far too strange to ever describe not to mention more than a little embarrassing. When it was time to climb out of bed, I didn't know whether to be frustrated or thankful. Sleep hadn't been very rewarding to me but it still seemed better than getting up and facing reality. Of course, once I did climb out of bed I was faced with several new problems. One was that I didn't have a single piece of clothing that still fit me, leaving me stuck in my room unless I wanted to go out wrapped in a blanket. "Just great," I grumbled as I sat up and cupped my breasts. I winced at the very sight, well aware of the irony that I'd normally kill to get my hands on a pair of boobs like this. I just never thought that I'd be the one with them. "I was hoping it was just a nightmare." I was trying to think of what I could possibly do when there was a hesitant knock on my door. I ignored it but then Grace's voice called, "Mom said to tell you it's breakfast..." "Breakfast," I muttered, realizing that I was feeling pretty hungry. I'd been too ashamed to come out for dinner last night though that hadn't really changed. "I don't have any clothes," I called back through the door. Hopefully mom would bring something for me to eat. Then again, I wasn't sure I wanted her to see me like this again, even if she has already. Several minutes later there was another knock on the door. This time it was mom, saying, "Open up... I've got something you can wear..." I hesitated a minute, then opened the door enough for her to hand the clothes in. I quickly snatched them and closed the door again. When I looked at the clothes, they were a pair of dad's sweat pants and one of his shirts. I sighed, knowing that they probably still wouldn't fit me very well but at least it would be something to wear for now. When I put the pants on, I found that there wasn't really as much extra leg to roll up as I would have guessed. Then again, my legs were a bit longer in proportion to the rest of me than most people's. But just because the pants were long enough, that didn't mean they stayed up without a belt. The shirt wasn't much better. It was long in the sleeves but tight across my chest. It was kind of embarrassing to wear but certainly better than nothing. It didn't take me very long to get dressed but I still didn't come out of my room for another half hour. I gulped, feeling my chest move with every step. I was so embarrassed to let anyone see me like this, even mom and Grace. But I took a deep breath and forced myself to go to the kitchen anyway. My hunger was great motivation. "Mark," mom gasped when she saw me. Grace had already finished her breakfast but she sat at the table with one of her dolls. I glared it with a feeling of raw hatred, as though it were the doll's fault that I'd been transformed like this. Then I looked back and mom and blushed brightly, unable to meet her eyes. "Is that Grace's jacket?" mom asked with a confused frown. I looked down to where I was still holding the jacket in my hand, feeling embarrassed at it. "Um...yeah," I admitted, not sure how I could tell her about my new fondness for pink. That was nearly as embarrassing as my body. I didn't say anything about the jacket as I sat down and placed it in my lap. Mom gave me an odd look but didn't say anything either while Grace just giggled and played with her doll, pausing several times to look at me. She finally said, "You look just like my dolly..." "I know," I responded with a grimace, trying to keep the frustration from my voice. I failed completely. Breakfast was quiet but filled with strange looks, mostly from mom. I tried very hard not to look at her or Grace, but I knew that they were both staring at me quite a bit. Mom looked extremely uncomfortable and unsure about what to do with me. I couldn't blame her. Nor could I help but think that she probably regretted ever adopting me in the first place. After all, they didn't bargain for something like this. "I suppose," mom said uncertainly, "that we'll need to get you some new clothes." "I suppose," I reluctantly agreed. Then I looked around and quietly asked, "Where's dad?" "At work," mom told me with a weak smile. I just nodded at that, not bothering to point out that it was dad's day off. The rest of the morning was extremely awkward but I was stubborn enough not to go back into my room. I stayed out in the living room, more to shove my changes in her face than anything else. She was obviously extremely confused by the whole situation as well, but nowhere near as much as I was. Grace was a bit confused by my transformation, but she seemed almost good natured about it. In fact, I think she was actually fascinated by how much I now resembled one of her dolls, though I tried not to take it personally. It was nice that at least she didn't look at me as though I might have suddenly become a monster. Eventually though, mom hesitantly pointed out, "If we're going to go get you some new clothes, you might want to wash up first." I looked down at myself, wincing at the idea of taking a shower in my new body. Unfortunately, I would have to do it sooner or later and I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of being gross and grungy. I nodded and made my way to the bathroom, feeling nervous as I did so. "Okay," I set Grace's jacket to the side. I was all right if I wasn't holding it as long as it was near enough to see. Just being able to see the color pink helped me relax. "It's such a nice color..." I quickly got undressed and was about to climb into the shower when mom called through the door, "You'd better use the conditioner... With your hair you'll need a lot of it." I grunted in response to that but made a mental note to follow her advice. I climbed into the shower and let out a gasp as the water hit my skin, especially the skin on my boobs. It all felt so sensitive now. However, I refused to dwell on that and washed myself as quickly as I could, using a pink wash cloth that I'd found in the cupboard. I hesitated a little about washing between my legs but finally braced myself and did that too. It just felt wrong there without my normal equipment. Once I was done, I turned my attention to my hair. Now that it was wet, it was actually kind of heavy. I grimaced and reached for the flowery shampoo my mom had as well as the conditioner. Since I had so much hair, it seemed like I went through half the bottles. It was also a lot more work than I'd ever spent on my hair before, making me decide to cut it shorter at the first opportunity. As soon as I was finished in the shower, it was time to dry off. I used an extra large pink towel to dry my skin off but found that my hair was a bit more complicated. It was so long and so wet... I tried using a towel but quickly became convinced that it would never get dry. I finally remembered the blow dryer in the cupboard and used that. It was hot on my head but seemed to do the job, especially when I grabbed a brush and ran it through my hair at the same time. "I can't believe it takes so long," I grimaced impatiently. When I was done, I ran a hand through my hair which was not only dry but soft, smooth and silky. I didn't seem to have a single tangle in it. In fact, it even fell right into position as though I'd intentionally brushed it to look nice. Something seemed just a little wrong with that, especially when I remembered my mom and several girls at school complaining about their hair taking a bit more work to get it right. However, I didn't waste much thought in that. I soon came out of the bathroom dressed in dad's clothes again. It seemed kind of silly putting the same clothes on again after just taken a shower, but it wasn't like I had a lot of options at the moment. Of course, the goal was to change that in a little while. "I guess I'm ready," I told mom, who just stood there and stared at me. "You have such gorgeous hair," she said with a bit of envy in her voice. Then she gave me an odd look, obviously remembering exactly who I was. We left the house a short time later with me wearing my mom's tennis shoes. As embarrassing as it was, my feet were now a little smaller than my mom's so I actually had to wear an extra pair of socks to get the shoes to fit right. It was also somewhat surprising since I was still taller than her, not having lost any height during my change. I would have said something about feeling like a freak, but the truth was that I was a freak. I had huge breasts, long legs, a tiny waist and small feet. I was a living doll and not at all pleased by that fact. In fact, right now I'd probably even sell my soul if it would get me back to normal. When we arrived at the store, mom took a look at me and shook her head, "Leave your sister's jacket behind... I don't know why you keep dragging it around..." "But I need it," I whined, clutching the jacket possessively. "What?" mom looked at me as though I were completely insane. "It's far too small to ever fit you..." "You don't understand," I grimaced, hating myself for having to admit this. "It's pink... I need something pink to hold onto or I'll go crazy... I'm addicted to the color pink." "That's absolutely ridiculous," mom snapped in annoyance. "So's this," I snapped back, gesturing down at myself. "It's part of my stupid Twist. I've got some kind of compulsion where I have to have something pink around..." Mom shook her head in disbelief, "I am not going to have you embarrass me by dragging Grace's coat around. Leave it in the car." I started to protest, but mom gave me that look. I winced and set the coat down, reluctantly leaving it as I closed the door. As soon as it was out of sight I began to feel uncomfortable and nervous. It was like I was going through withdrawal already. Mom didn't seem to notice though and continued into the store, leaving me no choice but to follow behind her. As uncomfortable as I was before, it grew even worse once I was inside the store. I was immediately aware of just about everyone turning and staring at me. Every guy was staring at my chest with obvious attraction while all the women were glaring at me with envious looks. I never would have imagined getting this kind of response from people. When I walked past, I heard one man exclaim to his friend, "Did you see that rack? It looked like a pair of volleyballs..." I blushed horribly at that, knowing that I'd be staring too if I was in his shoes. However, that didn't make me more comfortable with the attention. Not in the least. I heard a few other whispered comments though I tried hard to ignore them. It was easier to ignore them than it might have been otherwise because I kept thinking about the lovely pink jacket I'd left back in the car. Then I saw it, a flash of pink from a shirt that was hanging on a rack. I immediately rushed to it, much to my mom's surprise. I grabbed it, not even caring if it was my size. It was pink and that was all that was important. I let out a sigh of relief while my mom stared at me as though I were completely insane. "I need it," I insisted. "Such a lovely color..." Mom continued to stare at me as though I were a complete and total stranger, and a crazy one at that. She finally gulped, looking a bit shaken as she suggested, "Maybe we should find one your size first..." "It's pretty," Grace agreed from behind us. I nodded reluctantly but kept hold of the shirt I already had. They didn't have a shirt like it in my size, but we did find another one in a bright pink color that fit me. It had kittens all over the front but I didn't care. All that mattered was that it was pink. After this, we continued looking around for clothes, finding that there were few things in my size. "Just great," mom muttered in frustration. "They don't carry bras here in your size so we'll have to go to a real specialty shop." She shook her head and muttered something about strippers that made me blush uncomfortably. "I don't want a bra," I grumbled, knowing full well that with knockers my size I'd probably have to have one. We spent several hours trying to find enough to fit me and when we finally left, it was with a pair of pink tennis shoes in my size, a couple pink shirts, a few pairs of capri pants and even a skirt. There were a few other odds and ends, including some pink nail polish and lip stick. I hated the idea of wearing makeup, but if it was pink makeup it somehow seemed different. That was perfectly fine. Mom continued to give me the odd looks all the way home, as though even more sure that there was something seriously wrong with me. I knew that there was something wrong with me but I didn't like my mom treating me that way. I knew I was a freak, but that didn't mean I wanted to be treated like one. "What is wrong with you?" mom finally demanded once we got home. "This obsession you're getting with pink is just..." "Twisted?" I snapped back angrily, all my frustration at my condition finally bursting out in a mass of tears. "You think I want to be this way? Do you think I want to be some kind of human Barbie doll with an addiction to pink? Well I don't. It's not my fault I'm stuck like this..." I gestured down at myself, tears running down my cheeks. "Then whose fault is it?" mom demanded, as though I had intentionally turned into this... I glared at mom as I furiously spat out the word, "YOURS!" "WHAT?" she gasped. "That Twist thing changes you by what you're doing when it hits," I nearly yelled, remembering what I'd read last night. "You made me play dolls with Grace. That's why I got stuck like THIS!" I gestured down at myself. "It's my fault?" Grace whimpered, having come up while I was yelling at mom. She stared at me with those puppy dog eyes then burst into tears. "I'm sorry..." She turned and ran into her room as fast as she could. "I didn't mean," I gasped, feeling a stabbing pain of guilt through my heart. I hadn't meant to hurt Grace. Mom stared at me with a horrified look on her face, then she winced, "I...I'm sorry. I don't know what this has to be like for you..." She shook her head, looking guilty as well. "I'll try to be more understanding..." I just nodded at that, then turned and hurried after Grace. I found her in her room, sitting on her bed crying. I put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her, not sure what I could say. "It's all right," I finally told her after a minute, "it's not really your fault. I don't blame you for this..." Grace sniffled and looked at me with those puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry," she told me, grabbing me and holding me tingly in a hug. "It's not your fault," I told her again, this time even more gently. "Yes it is," Grace admitted with a guilty expression. "I told mom I wished she'd trade in for a sister who'd play with me..." I stared at Grace for a minute, caught between the urges to laugh and cry. I finally just hugged Grace tighter. "It usually doesn't quite work like that." I forced a smile and joked, "If it did, I would have traded you in for a brother a long time ago." "Meanie," Grace said, sticking her tongue out at me. However she was smiling again and seemed to be over her bad mood. "I try," I told her with as much pride as I could force into my voice. She just laughed at that, sticking her tongue out at me again. I let Grace go after another minute and left her room, glad that I'd patched things up with her a bit but wondering how I was going to deal with mom and dad. I didn't want to face mom again after that little blow up we'd just had, so I turned and went into my room instead. "And what am I going to tell Cody?" I gulped at the idea. I was not looking forward to showing him what had happened to me. I remained in my room for awhile, undisturbed by my mom or anyone else. It was easier for both of us this way since neither of us really knew what to say. I felt a little guilty at snapping at my mom and blaming her for this. It wasn't her fault that my real parents must have been Twisted. Still, she had kept pushing me and the memory of that still made me a bit mad. "At least I've got some clothes now," I told myself, trying to look on the bright side. It wasn't really much of a bright side except that most of what we'd bought was pink. Now I wouldn't have to keep dragging Grace's jacket around. "Too bad they don't have much that really fits me." I frowned, knowing that even the shirts I could wear weren't really my size. They were more overweight women, not ones with big hooters. If I wanted clothes that would really fit me and my new body, I would have to go to a specialty store or something. Or, I realized with a faint smile, I could just go online. Since I didn't really have anything else to do at the moment, I got on my computer and began searching the net for more information on the Twisted and for clothes that were a bit more my size. A sale woman at the store had estimated that my breast size was about a G cup, which didn't really mean much to me. All I knew was that they were huge but surprisingly firm for their size. At the very least I might be able to find some clothes that fit me and my new body a little better. After just a little searching I found that most of the clothes out there for my size seemed to have been designed with strippers in mind. All the tops were skimpy, sexy, and designed to show off cleavage. The very idea of wearing most of that stuff was absolutely ridiculous and there was no way I would wear it. "But that one's nice," I mused as I looked at one item that was nearly identical to one I'd completely discounted a few seconds earlier. The only difference between the two was that this one was pink. For some reason, these clothes weren't really that bad when they were pink. I stared at the clothes for a minute, feeling a mixture of emotions. They were too revealing...but they looked so lovely in pink. I finally rationalized it with the fact that I needed clothes that would really fit my new body comfortably, even if they weren't the style I might otherwise choose. I then went ahead and ordered some of the clothes using the credit card my dad had given me 'for emergencies only'. Of course I could have just gone out and asked my mom, but I didn't feel like talking to her much at the moment and this was much easier, not to mention less embarrassing. Once I was finished with my online shopping, I leaned back and tried to think of what I could do now. I didn't really want to do anything but keeping myself occupied like this at least distracted me from what was going on. Even shopping for new clothes kept me from thinking too much about how strange I now felt. Since I didn't have anything else to do at the moment, I decided to search for more information on the Antarctic Flu and the Twisted. I spent several hours searching the net for everything I could find, though I was quickly learning that most of the stuff available was mixed-up and contradictory. It seemed that most of the people who posted this stuff didn't really have a lot of facts about the Twisted, just a lot of strong opinions. "At least some of the stuff is useful," I eventually muttered to myself. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy separating the true facts from the made up ones which seemed to be all over the place. As much as I hated to admit it, I had to wonder just how much of what I previously 'knew' about the Twisted was accurate and how much was garbage. When I got tired of doing research, I hesitantly left my room to face the rest of my family. Grace was playing with some of her dolls, the sight of which made me go pale. Mom was busy making dinner and intentionally ignoring me. And dad, who had finally come home, took one look at me, gave me a dirty look, and then ran out to the garage to 'fix something'. "Just great," I muttered bitterly, wondering how I was ever going survive like this. After just a few minutes, I turned around and went back to the sanctuary of my room where at least I didn't have to face the looks my parents kept giving me. -------------------- It was my second morning waking up as a Barbie doll bimbo and it didn't get any better the second time. Again, I had a hard time sleeping because of my new assets though at least this time I knew better than to hope it had all been a dream. "Another day, another nightmare," I grumbled as I made my way to the shower, once again cursing my long hair. Before long I was all dressed up and ready to face the day, or at least as ready as I could possibly get. I even put on some of the nail polish that we'd bought at the store yesterday. I never would have imagined that I'd put nail polish on under any circumstances...but it was pink. I loved the way it made my nails look, even though I was disgusted with myself for feeling this way at the same time. My dad was home from work today and took one long disapproving look at me before rushing off to find something to do. I winced as he left, knowing that our relationship would never be the same again. As it was, I had the feeling I was lucky he hadn't just thrown me out of the house for being a freak. Even though he hadn't actually said anything, I knew he regretted ever adopting me in the first place. That thought hurt almost as much as what I had become, though I tried hard not to show it. I sat down in the living room, more because I was sick of the inside of my room than for any other reason. I liked being able to lock myself away and hide like I had been doing, but I was also getting a bit claustrophobic. I turned on the TV, wincing when I saw it was a movie about a Twisted plot to take over the world. "I don't think so," I grimaced as I turned the TV back off. "Maybe you should get out and get some fresh air," mom suggested hopefully. I glared at her and she shrugged, "Or maybe not..." Grace came up and hesitantly asked, "You wanna play dolls with me?" I nearly choked at that, but before I could say anything mom gently ushered her away with the comment, "I really don't think Mark wants to play dolls right now..." "That's an understatement," I scowled, looking down at myself and my huge boobs. It was bad enough looking like a doll that I certainly had no intention of playing with them again, especially when that was what caused me to turn into this in the first place. "Why couldn't I have been playing football instead...?" Mom came back in a short time later and cautiously told me, "You know, you can't stay in the house forever..." She gave me a strange look that seemed to wordlessly say the opposite, that I should hide and keep others from finding out about what I'd become. "Maybe not," I responded with a scowl, "but I can certainly try." Mom shook her head at that and left, but an hour later she came back and handed me some money. "We're out of milk and butter," she told me with an almost apologetic expression, "Go down to the store and pick some up." I took the money but stared at her in horror, "Do I have to...?" "It didn't kill you to go out yesterday," she sighed in exasperation, "and you have some real clothing to wear this time. Now go on... You can get yourself a snack too if you want." I didn't bother arguing with mom though I certainly wanted to. I had a feeling that if I protested too much, she'd give me 'the look' and I'd end up going anyway. I figured that I might as well avoid the trouble since the outcome was a given, but that didn't mean I was happy with it. In fact, I imagined all the smart ass things I could have said but didn't while I walked down the street to the store. When I reached the store, I was immediately aware of every pair of eyes on me. Guys and even the girls were all staring at my chest and I heard more than one whispered comment along the lines of "Those can't be real..." I blushed horribly and tried my best to ignore them, but it didn't do much good. The fact that I knew who half these people were only made it more embarrassing. "Milk, butter, and a snack," I reminded myself, more as a distraction from the whispers around me than because I needed a reminder. Then as if to make things worse, I saw Jake Bartley walk into the store. Jake was a year or two older than me and had a reputation for being a bit rowdy. Of course, the fact that his uncle Cal was the local sheriff seemed to ensure that no matter how rowdy he got, he never seemed to face any real consequences. It was a fact that I was made well aware of when he'd actually taken his neighbor's car on a joy ride and didn't face any jail time for it. "Wow," Jake exclaimed when he saw me, making me wince. I'd been hoping that I could get out of the store before he saw me. "I've never seen you around here before. Are you visiting someone?" "You could say that," I responded grimly, moving to step around him. Unfortunately, Jake didn't let me get away that easily. He stepped in my way again and gave me what he probably thought of as a 'charming' smile. It just made me want to puke since I knew what he was up to and didn't like it one bit. "What's your name?" he asked me with a cocky grin. "I'm Jake." "Leila," I responded with a grimace, not about to tell him my real name or announce that I was a Twisted freak. Leila just happened to be the first name to come to mind. "Leila," Jake said with the same cocky grin. "That's a nice name." "I've got to get going," I told him, managing to move around him and to the counter. Jake didn't follow me but I was well aware of him staring at my ass. I grimaced and tried not to show my anger. When I got to the counter, I saw old Milt standing there. He was the old guy who'd been running the store since long before I was born. I usually stopped and talked to him when I came here but I doubt he'd recognize me at the moment. He took a long look at me and then finally looked down at the things I wanted to buy. "I don't remember seeing you around here before," Milt commented as he rang up my purchase. "Visiting someone or just passing through?" "Visiting," I mumbled, turning bright red. Milt had known me for my entire life and he didn't recognize me. Of course I was actually grateful for that since I didn't want to be recognized like this. "That's nice," Milt nodded, giving me a pause to say more. When it became clear that I wasn't in a talkative mood, he nodded, "Come back sometime." I nodded at that and started to hurry out of the store, but not before I heard Jake talking to someone else. "Did you hear her voice. It was like honey... Like velvet..." Some woman snorted, "She sounded like some kind of bimbo or porn star to me..." "Oh great," I turned an even brighter red as I hurried away as fast as I could go. "Now I not only look like a porn star but sound like one too..." I was not in a good mood when I got home and a single glare was enough to keep mom from asking too many questions. I silently dropped the groceries onto the kitchen table and then ran off to hide in my room for awhile. Going out in public like that was completely humiliating and I didn't want to ever do it again. Unfortunately, I knew that I probably wouldn't have that luxury, but at least I could pretend for awhile. I stayed in my room for an hour before finally coming back out. As much as I liked being able to hide away where no one else could see me, I was still feeling claustrophobic from spending so much time in there. I made my way back out to the living room where I turned on TV and mindlessly watched some game show. "I wish we had one of those virtual reality systems," I complained to mom. "Those new VR movies just don't transfer well to the old screens..." "You know those things are too expensive," she told me with a shake of her head. Then she smiled faintly, "But it would be nice if we could afford one..." "You just want to watch those VR soaps," I teased her. After this, I relaxed a little, feeling almost like things were back to normal. I was sitting back and watching TV while Grace was coloring some pictures with her crayons on the floor. What could be more normal than that? Unfortunately, my long hair and the weights on my chest kept reminding me that things weren't exactly normal and never would be again. Still, this brief period of illusionary normalcy was nice, even if I did have the feeling that it was the calm before the storm. Just a few hours after I'd settled down, our doorbell started to ring. Grace immediately ran for the door, giggling, "I'll get it..." A moment after the door opened, I heard Cody's voice saying, "Hey squirt. Is Mark here?" "Oh shit," I gasped, jumping to my feet with my heart racing. I stared at the door in horror, wanting to turn and run to my room but finding myself unable to move. This was a moment I had been dreading since my transformation...since my Twist. I had been trying hard not to think about it, but I'd been worrying about what Cody would say. "Mark's in here," Grace pointed into the living room and at me. Cody stepped into the house and turned to stare at me with a look of blank confusion. His eyes immediately scanned my body, lingering for a noticeable length of time on my chest. There was a lot of obvious attraction in his face but not a single ounce of recognition. "Um...hi," Cody said shyly, then quickly whispered to Grace, "I thought you said Mark was in here..." "That is Mark," Grace exclaimed. "He got Twisted..." Cody stared at me with his mouth open, looking as though he was sure Grace had to be joking. But just then, my mom stepped back into the room, saying, "Mark dear, what do you think about...?" Then she paused at the sight of Cody. "Oh, Cody..." She looked back and forth between him and me with an uncertain look in her eyes. Cody stared at me again, this time with a look of shock and horror on his face. "Mark?" I squirmed uncomfortably, staring at the floor. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. "Yeah," I whispered in embarrassment, not what I could say. "I...I..." "Mark got Twisted," Grace exclaimed almost cheerfully. "I've got a big sister now..." "It seems his birth parents must have been Twisted," mom quickly explained to fill the silence. "No way," Cody gasped. "It happened the other day," I winced as I said it, gesturing down at myself and then looking at Cody again. "I didn't know..." "My God," Cody exclaimed, staring at me with a look of complete and utter revulsion. I suddenly felt as though I'd grown an extra head...a vulture's head or something. He was looking at me as though I had suddenly become the most hideous and disgusting thing to walk the planet. "No way," he shook his head, stepping backwards. "You're not Mark... You can't be..." His voice was shaking as he said it and there was a look of near hysteria in his eyes. "It is Mark," mom tried to assure him. "I was there when he suddenly changed..." "You're NOT Mark, "Cody insisted vehemently, almost yelling. "Cody," I pleaded, hating to see my best friend staring at me like that. "Please..." "NO!" he screamed, turning and running out the door. I stared to run after him, "But Cody..." I stopped just outside the door to watch him run across the street as fast as he could. I winced and started to chase after him but was suddenly stopped by a painful jerk on my scalp. The screen door had closed behind me and trapped my long hair in it. I screamed in rage and frustration, looking at Cody running and bursting into tears. Mom opened the door and released my hair, then hesitantly asked, "Are you all right...?" I just stood there for a moment, turning to see Dad standing just outside the garage, staring at me with a grim expression. Then he suddenly turned and walked back into the garage, making me cry even harder. I didn't even answer mom as I rushed past her into the house. "Mark," mom started, but I ignored her. I was ready to burst from all the emotions that where swirling around inside me, none of them pleasant. Rage, frustration, horror, guilt, shame, and some others I couldn't even identify all threatened to explode at once. I was a freak, a horrible Twisted freak. My best friend ran away in terror and even my own dad didn't want anything to do with me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to lash out and hurt something. After a moment, I turned around and grabbed my long hair which had been caught in the door. I glared at it with hatred, as if my hair were somehow to blame for my problems. If nothing else, it provided a convenient target for all my bottled emotions. "What are you doing?" mom yelled at me as I rushed into the kitchen, "Mark...?" I didn't say a word as I grabbed a knife, ignoring the look of terror in mom's eyes. I turned it on my hair and began hacking and cutting, dropping tons of long blonde hair onto the floor. I cut it all down to about shoulder length, knowing that it had to look absolutely horrible but not caring in the least. In fact, I actually found that perfect. "Your hair," mom cried out, grabbing huge handfuls of my hair from the floor. "Your beautiful, perfect hair... No split ends at all and you destroyed it..." I dropped the knife to the floor and stared at mom, not sure if she was more upset about my hair or how torn up I was. I couldn't bear the thought of asking her, especially after seeing the way both Cody and dad turned their backs on me. Instead, I just ran to my room and locked the door behind me before curling up on my bed to cry myself dry. I sat in the living room with a bowl of cereal, watching TV while having a snack. At least I was trying to have a snack. My long hair kept getting into my cereal, making me curse and pull it out of the way time and time again. "Maybe I should cut it off again," I grimaced, knowing that it wouldn't do a whole lot of good. The impromptu haircut I'd given myself three days ago hadn't lasted for very long. In fact, I woke up the next morning with my hair back to its previous length. Even after having chopped most of my hair off, it was down to my ass again and getting in the way. Mom didn't say anything but I could tell she was sort of pleased by that since she kept staring at my hair with an envious expression. "If I cut it off," I muttered to myself, "it'll probably just grow right back again..." That made the idea of cutting it short even more tempting. I wouldn't have to keep the bad haircut for very long at all. However, I didn't bother thinking about my hair for long. I just leaned back and let out a long sigh of boredom. I hadn't left my house in several days, not since the incident with Cody. After that and what had happened at the store, I was in no hurry to leave the house no matter how claustrophobic and bored I was feeling. Then I looked out to the driveway where dad's car was normally parked. The space was empty at the moment which was no surprise since he was at work. But it seemed that even when he wasn't at work the space was empty. And when he was home, I still didn't see him much. I had no doubts that he was avoiding me. He was ashamed of me and couldn't bear the thought of what I'd become. I winced at that, thankful that at least mom wasn't avoiding me. Just then mom came into the living room with a couple boxes and a frown on her face. "Some packages just arrived for you in the mail..." She gave me a suspicious look. "Oh yeah," I blinked, remembering the order I'd placed for clothes a few days earlier. "It's just some clothes..." "Clothes?" mom blinked. "How'd you pay for them...?" "With the emergency credit card you gave me," I admitted, quickly snatching up the boxes and hurrying to my room before she could say anything. When I was in my room though, I remembered the items I'd ordered and blushed, wondering how I could possibly wear some of that stuff. But as soon as I opened the first box and saw the lovely pink color, my doubts vanished. This stuff would look great on me, especially with all that pink. It was so nice... I sighed as I dug through he boxes and pulled out everything I'd ordered. "And I've even got bras that should fit me," I sighed, not sure whether that was a good thing or bad. So far I hadn't really seemed to need one in spite of my generous size. Because of that, I would have just ignored the bras entirely if not for the fact that they were a delicious shade of pink. I dug through the box, pulling out several pink shirts, some of which were very revealing and a few pairs of pants that I thought should fit me more comfortably. It hadn't been easy finding some for a woman with my long legs and hip size, but I'd managed. They even had them in pink too which made me sigh in relief. "I can't believe I'm going so crazy over the color pink," I growled at myself, knowing that I should hate the color but not feeling that way at all. It was such a pretty and soothing color that I couldn't bear to be without it. I quickly got dressed in my new clothes, letting out a long sigh of relief at just how well they all fit. They sure fit better than the stuff mom had gotten me at the store. Then again, the store didn't exactly carry my sizes so I had to just make due with what they had. I even put on the bra,