SRU: Just Drawn That Way free porn video

I guess you're not truly a FM contributor until you write a SRU story, so here's my take on it. As always, feel free to leave constructive criticism! Thanks for reading! Spells 'R' Us: Just Drawn that Way By Dr. Beaubourg There are very few things I regret in my life. I've determined that what happens, happens, and all I can do is to continue on, living my life as I see fit. That was back when I was in control, and I had a good idea what direction my life was headed. But one day, Mel changed everything. Let me start at the beginning. My name is Wayne, and I'm an visual arts student attending a fine arts college. There, I'm part of a small on- campus animation club with five or six other people. One of these people is Melvin, or just Mel for short. For what he lacks in personality, he makes up in his animations. He was easily the best animator in the group, if not the entire college. Not only that, but he could answer any question about anything that animated ever. The kid was a prodigy, even if he was a little more than a little awkward. I knew that Mel was going places after graduation, so I decided that it was best to be friends with him just in case. Day after day I hung out with him, learning and collaborating with him, in the hopes that this friendship might pay off. Anyways, one day after our weekly club meeting, I decided to pal around with Mel and visit the local mall. He said something about needing to buy new pen nibs, and the art store was having a huge sale. "65% off all art supplies?! You have got to be shitting me..." I said to Mel, entering the mall with him. "That's a steal dude." "Yeah, I know," he retorted. "It's because they're going out of business, so we gotta' strike while the iron's hot!" he exclaimed. "Alright, if you say so." We rounded the corner, passing kiosks and snack stands until we stood before the art store. Or more exactly, what USED to be the art store. It looked like we were one day late, they had already closed the shop. "God fucking dammit!" Mel fumed. "I was going to be set for a whole fucking year! Fuck everything!" He clenched his fists, flailing them through the air like irate pendulums. Just as his face started to turn red, I intervened. "Hey dude, it's no problem. Let's just head over to the other art store, their stuff's pretty cheap." It looked like my words had some effect; he stopped waving his arms around like a madman. "A-alright," he said between exasperated huffs. "I'm just so mad! I can't do anything right! I can't reach my art deadlines, I can't find a steady job, and no girl wants to date me, I'm fucking pathetic!" While there was some truth to his words, it pained me to see him beat himself up over this. I placed my hand on his shoulder. "Hey dude, you're just making yourself feel worse. Let's just go to the art store, and get something to eat, huh?" Mel was wiping tears away from his puffy eyes. "S-sure," he mumbled. "I guess I'm just so disappointed in myself. I really needed those nibs..." "Fret not, Melvin. I've got exactly what you need..." rang out from the store across the hall. Upon further inspection, the store would be Spells 'R' Us. A little novelty store I've seen before, but never really went in. An old man with a long grey beard leaned over from the counter in the store. I guess he was the one that spoke to us. "Y-you've got nibs here...?" Mel stammered. I guess the man knowing his name didn't bother him. Mel entered the store, and I followed suit. Just as I expected, the store was full of doodads and whatsits I doubted I even needed. Remote controls, costumes and even lucky coins? Who the hell bought this stuff? The old man behind the counter revealed a small cardboard box, and handed it to Mel. "I think you'll find this satisfactory to your needs," he beamed. Mel opened the box, revealing a sterling silver pen nib resting on a felt-inlaid box. "Hmm, not bad. What's the catch?" he quipped. The old man leaned over. "Are you familiar with wizards?" Mel's eyes lit up. "You mean the 1977 Ralph Bakshi classic? No shit dude!" he exclaimed, unzipping his hoodie revealing a worn Wizards t-shirt. "It's not my favorite, but I'd put it in my top 15. It's probably the least appreciated Bakshi film, next to Coonskin. Anyways, what about it?" "Er, nevermind," retracted the old man. "I think you'll find that this nib will last you a great deal longer than any other, and your art will most definitely improve. So much, in fact, that you'll swear it could fly off the page!" In retrospect, that last line was pretty suspicious. Regardless, Mel fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. "Alright, you got me. How much for it?" he asked, scrambling for his wallet. "Fifteen dollars and ninet-" he said, having been cut off by Mel slapping a twenty down on the counter. "Thanks..." said the old man, a bit shaken by Mel's sheer speed. Mel pocketed the nib, grabbed my arm, and made off for the exit. "Wayne, let's scram. I wanna' try this out!" he said, scurrying to the parking lot with me in tow. As I was dragged away, I could hear the old man calling out to Mel. Something about having left his change. Looking back, there was plenty of change that had yet to happen. Mel practically fished my own keys out of my jeans to let himself into my car. If there was something Mel wanted, there was nothing was wasn't willing to do to get it done. I strapped myself in, and headed over to Mel's apartment. "So, what was that about grabbing all the nibs you could?" I asked, turning into his driveway. "Quality over quantity, Wayne my boy," he chortled. "It's what I always say!" I don't ever remember him saying that before, I but was glad he wasn't throwing a fit anymore. We exited the car, and Mel nearly burst through his own front door. The apartment was just as I remembered it, a cesspool of pizza boxes, dirty laundry, and other unsavory items. Mel zipped over to his work room, where all of his animating took place. Nib in hand, he grabbed the nearest pen, and screwed it in. Filling its reservoir with ebony ink, he readied his new utensil. "Hmm, what to draw, what to draw...." he said as I strolled into his room. The first thing I noticed was the sheer amount of animation memorabilia in this place. Throughout the entire apartment, the walls were covered with posters, stills and animation cells belonging to his favorite movies and cartoons. Mel was the sort of guy to dislike something if enough people were into it, so he surrounds himself with the most obscure animated stuff he could, all for except for one particular movie. His workroom was special, as it was a shrine to his most favorite film of all, the classic "Who Framed Roger Rabbit". If anyone even brings it up in a conversation, you can expect an hour-long lecture about why it is the greatest example of modern animation, or the best collaboration known to man, so on and so forth. However, the axis that Mel's Who Framed Roger Rabbit obsession spun on was none other than the voluptuous vixen Jessica Rabbit. He had posters, life sized cardboard cutouts, even original animation cells from the movie plastered on any surface he could. I doubted there was a square foot that her face didn't occupy in this room. This was by far the most unsettling thing that Mel's ever done, but I can't really blame him. It's his apartment, after all. Mel's eyes darted over to me, and inspiration struck him. "Here, since you willingly drove me all around town, I'll draw you. Who could refuse such an honor?" His tone indicated facetiousness, but I think he was a bit serious. "Sure, why not?" I said, wandering out of the work room. "Why don't you draw over in the living room, where there's better light?" Mel shifted about uncomfortably, but gave in. "Alright, let's go," he said, grabbing his animator's sketchbook. Specially ordered, the sketchbook has translucent pages, allowing him to see the drawing underneath if he wanted to animate a little doodle. Mel walked over to the living room, and plopped right down on the couch. "Well, what are you waiting for," he said, "strike a pose!" Since this was just a sketch, I decided to make pose normally. My arms slumped to my sides, causing my jacket to hang ever so slightly off my shoulder. I'd fix it but I didn't care, maybe it would add more personality to the drawing. Minutes passed as I stood in near silence, the sounds of Mel's pen swiping along the notebook the only accompaniment. After a few minutes, my legs grew tired, but I did not move. I stood rigid as a statue, until Mel placed the pen on the table. "Tadaa!" he hollered, flipping the book around. Sure enough, it looked like me. There was a slight caricature-ish aspect to it, but Mel was a cartoony guy, so it didn't matter. Nearly every detail was there, from my short brown hair, to my ragged tennis shoes. The name "WAYNE" hung above my 2D self in a dark, jittery font. "Looks good Mel. What's next?" I asked, pulling my jacket back over my shoulder. "Well, I'm not finished yet. Usually when I draw people, I like to actually have some fun, so we're gonna' mix it up a bit!" Mel flipped a page over the previous one to doodle over it. Instinctively, my body resumed its previous pose. As if pulled by a string, my jacket hung off my shoulder once more. "Planning on hitting the beach anytime soon?" Mel asked, rhetorically "You're gonna' need to bulk up first before you reel the ladies in!" Mel's pen darted over where my arm was on the previous page, scribbling over the vague outline of the last sketch. As if I was a puppet, my right arm lifted up and flexed, showing off my non-existent bicep. Suddenly, an intense pressure built up in my arm. Looking over, I saw that my muscles growing in size and strength. In sense, it was getting buff! "Woah! Shit dude, look at this!" I yelled, grabbing his attention. "What, can't you see I'm drawi-" he said, noticing my bulging bicep. His eyes darted to his sketch, then back to me. "Check this out dude..." he said, his voice wavering. He flipped the sketchbook around, revealing a single muscular arm, posed in the same way I was, resting over the last drawing of me. "Man, I think the nib's doing this..." he said, resting the pen down. "No shit Sherlock!" I said, marveling in the changes. I took the coffee table in one hand, and lifted it over my head. Hell, it was light as a feather. "This rocks!" "Wait, I've got a better idea..." he said, ripping the paper out of its spiral binder. In an instant, my arm faded back to its former non-glory, and slumped back down to my side. As soon as he started sketching, my arm shot back up, but in a much less spectacular way. As if to display my inherent lack of strength, my bicep lost its muscle, almost becoming like a large flesh colored noodle. Gravity took hold of it, and it slumped downwards, effectively becoming an anti-muscle. "Ha ha ha! Who's working out at muscle beach now!?" Mel mocked, getting up and playing with my flaccid noodle-arm. "Ha-ha, very funny Mel. Now change me back so I can mess around with that nib." Sure enough, Mel ripped out that page, casting the scrap paper aside. But instead of hanging me the pen, he flopped back down on the couch. "How hold on, who bought this pen?" he asked. "You can try it after I'm done, alright?" He flicked the pen against his chin, no doubt searching for inspiration. Suddenly, his eyes darted behind me to the direction of his work room. I could practically see the pieces falling into place in his brain as he brought the pen down to the paper. "U-um, Mel? What are you doing...?" I sheepishly asked. "You'll see," he said, hiding his face behind the sketchbook. With a fervor I have had yet to see, he scratched away at that sketchbook with long, elegant strokes. "We'll start from the bottom, and make our way up," he said, bringing his next drawing to life. I couldn't see his drawing, yet I knew exactly what was going on in that sketchbook. From within my shoes, I could feel the strange sensation of my feet withering down. Soon enough, my sneakers were several sizes too large for my impossibly petite feet. As if to compensate, my shoes started to shrink as well, its material becoming harder and glossier, its color fading from a dirt-speckled white to a luscious crimson. As the shoe constricted around my tiny feet, the heels shot up in an instant, growing several inches in a single second. The heels elevated my feet until they nearly stood vertical, forcing my posture to change. I nearly toppled over, but a force over my body kept me locked in place, unable to move an inch. Following the shift in footwear, my pants started to change as well, with the legs fusing together. Up to my waist, the loose denim of my jeans became a sort of skirt, it's buckles, belt loops, and buttons melting into the jeans' material. From the cuffs up the skirt's material started to change, as a sea of red fabric flourished upwards towards my waist, the material becoming thinner and sparkly. What once held loosely over my legs now clung tight as it increased its grip, leaving little room. Then, as if to emancipate themselves from their dazzling prison, my hips began to widen. Inch by inch it grew outwards, the bones in my pelvis re- arranging for a more feminine structure. The bone growth migrated to my legs, elevating them several inches. From across the room, I could see my changing body reflected in a mirror. Goddamn, I looked like a freak. But the changes were far from over. As if to widen them further, I could feel fat pouring into my hips, giving them a round, womanly appearance. The skirt creaked as the fabric struggled to contain my expanding figure. Accompanying my hips, the fat flowed into my ass, lifting it from the flat rear to a full derriere. More and more, my cheeks filled up like an engorged water balloon. From the looks of it, my ass stood out a half a foot back, the fabric highlighting my massive cheeks. Once finished, the expansion moved onto my legs, growing my thighs thicker by the second. Soon enough, I could feel them squished together while my legs stood apart. Finally, when I thought the skirt could take no more, a rip appeared on my right thigh, splitting all the way down my leg, releasing its grip. As if by instinct, my right leg slipped out of the slit, revealing itself in its smooth, hairless glory up to my hip. There was no doubting it; from the hips down I looked exactly like Jessica Rabbit. The wide hips, the thick thighs, and the huge ass, I doubt there was any real woman who had curves like these. However, the changes were not finished yet. Through the slit of the skirt, I could feel the bulge of my manhood restrained as my boxers changed into a silky pair of panties. The tightness in my groin did not last long as my genitals began to melt away into my scrotum. Within my body, new organs were being formed to accommodate an alternate set of privates. I could feel the lips come into being between my fat thighs, and I was disgusted. Looking over at Mel, I don't think I've ever seen him more ecstatic in his life. "Oh my god..." he gasped, clapping his hands to his mouth. "It's beautiful! Never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted this!" Mel placed the pen down, releasing me from the nib's control. I stomped over to him, my hips wildly swaying back and forth teetering on my impossibly high heels. "Alright you, it's time to change me ba-Ack!" I squealed, surprised by a sudden stop in momentum. When I looked over, Mel had scribbled something down on the sketchbook. He flipped it around, revealing his handiwork. Over the previous sketch of me lay Jessica Rabbit from the hips down, her leg struck out in a sultry pose. Next to it was a single word, as if to describe an order given to my body without consent. In Mel's distinctive handwriting it said "IMMOBILE". Sure enough, I tried to move my legs. What I could identify as mine moved fine, but these legs refused to budge even an inch, regardless if Mel held the pen or not. Speaking of Mel, there he was, crawling on all four towards me. "My god, I can't believe it. Finally, I can make you mine..." he whispered, resting his face on the side of my leg. Slowly he ascended, his stubble tickling ever so slightly. He then ran his mouth up my thigh, feeling the flawless skin glide over his lips. When he reached my hip, he brought his hands around and clapped them on my hefty ass, causing me to squeal as he squeezed my cheeks. "Let's see if all the changes went through..." he said, snickering to himself. He brought his hand back over to my hip, and dove into the slit of my skirt. In one swift motion, he placed his hand over my new female genitals, and stroked them. Immediately, I pushed him away with what upper-body strength I could muster, ashamed of the pleasure I just felt. The force of pushing him away flipped my skirt up, as I saw my bare legs leading up to a purple pair of silk panties. Mel looked up at me from the ground, a confused look taking over his face. "You fucking pervert, you change me back right now!" I demanded, my face red with embarrassment. I was still feeling the shock of him stroking my genitals, and I hated it. "Well, I guess you're not completely perfect, so let's get this show on the road, shall we?" he said, collecting his supplies. Once more, he put his pen to the book and began to draw. As if commanded by a puppeteer I found my arms drawn to the hips I couldn't identify as mine, and struck a pose. Dwarfed by my vast hips, my hands looked childish in comparison. As if triggered by the thought, my hands started to dwindle, becoming petite. My nails scraped across the skirt's fabric as they grew out, becoming perfectly manicured. My arms followed their example, as my muscles lost their tone, becoming softer and more feminine. All of a sudden, my jacket was shrinking down. From the chest outwards, the material was disappearing, until only the sleeves remained, and even they were undergoing their own change. Just like the shift from my pants to the skirt, the sleeves contracted onto my arms, it's material becoming thinner and smoother. Underneath the sleeves, I could feel how supple my skin had gotten. As I felt the fabric glide across my arms, here was no doubt that they were void of hair. Finally, the cuffs formed over my hands, completing the bicep-length gloves. The dark grey brightened to a luscious purple, matched by the panties I now wore. As if to remedy my upper-body disproportion, my torso began to change to match my svelte arms. My shoulders receded as my ribs narrowed, my chest becoming many sizes too small for my t-shirt. To alleviate this dilemma, my shirt started to take another form. The shirt's collar began to dwindle in both he front and back, plunging lower and lower. The front neckline stopped midway down my delicate chest, and the tingling of a cool breeze indicated the collar's decent had dropped to my lower back, exposing it in its smooth, hairless entirety. Like before, its colors changed to a glistening crimson as its fabric shifted into a thinner material, tightening on my body. As the constriction formed on my waist, I could feel a distinct tightening occurring beneath the fabric. Inch by inch, my waist was caving in. I could feel the sensation of my organs shifting and rearranging underneath all of the pressure. By the time the changes ceased, my waist had shrunk to impossibly waspish proportions, making my already wide hips appear even wider. Had I free use of my hands I might be able to wrap them entirely around my waist. Finishing these changes, the fabric fused together with the skirt, becoming an elegant dress. From the looks of it, I was becoming a real Jessica Rabbit, cartoony proportions and all. Looking over at Mel, he was still scribbling furiously. I dreaded the next changes to occur. As I observed my slim waist, the former neckline started to change, as the center pinched down slightly, giving the bodice a heart-shaped look. I questioned the intention of this change, and then observed in horror as I realized its use. Underneath the bodice, two small mounds came into being. They started out small, but rapidly grew in size. In the center of their growth, I could feel a strange sense of pleasure from under the fabric. As it turns out, my nipples were growing along with these foreign objects on my chest. As they expanded, my nipples rubbed against the fabric of the bodice, their sensitivity surging with each growth. Soon enough, they grew from the bodice, revealing their supple flesh. I didn't want to realize it, but I was growing tits. With every breath they rose, growing out as I exhaled. As they developed, they showed little sign of sagging, sticking straight out of my chest. The bodice, seemingly defying gravity, kept my breasts covered, but left little to the imagination. As they reached massive proportions, my breasts grew around them, exposing the sides and piling up cleavage. Pretty soon, I wasn't able to see my ridiculously high-heeled feet past my enormous bosom. Between the unveiled flesh of my tits, collar, back, and leg, I've never felt more exposed. A stranger in a body that's changing against my will, I would do anything to return to being just Wayne. All of a sudden, the growth in my chest stopped, leaving me with tits that surpassed even a DD cup. I saw Mel place the pen down to observe his handiwork. "Hmm, looks pretty good..." he pondered, his gaze fixed on my swollen mammaries. Even if I could move, I doubt that any pose would hide them, thanks to these ridiculous heels that managed to stick my chest and ass out at the same time. He walked over to me, eyes buried in my tits. "Okay Melvin, you win. This was a good joke, now change me back!" I demanded, only able to move from the neck up. "I don't think that's a possibility..." he said, pacing back and forth. "Wait, what...?" "I said it's not going to happen! Do you know how hard it is for me to make friends, let alone a girlfriend! I know I'm weird, I know girls don't like me, and I know you're not even my real friend!" He charged right up to me, glaring into my eyes. "What are you talking about, of course I'm your friend..." I muttered, unable to make eye contact with him. "Don't play dumb with me, I know the only reason you ever hung out with me is because you're jealous of my talent," he scoffed. "Okay, okay, you're right! You change me back, and I'll leave you alone, alright?!" I begged. "No Wayne, it's not alright," he retorted, flicking the pen up from the table. "Do you know just what I have here? With this I can do anything I want. For instance..." He dropped the pen in his pocket. "...I've always wanted to do this!" Mel reached out with both hands and seized my tits between his fingers. The sudden grouping coupled with the pleasure made me yelp. Mel was in his own little world, stroking and slapping my breasts as if he was in a trance. The pleasure was so surreal, I couldn't even look at him. Through the bodice I felt the roughness of his fingers swipe across my nipples, and I had to bite my lip to avoid moaning. Several minutes passed, and Mel's fingers grew tired. I was just about at my limit, a moist stain developing between my legs. With a sigh, he drew his hands away from my massive tits, and returned to the couch. "When all's said and done, Wayne, I don't like looking at your stupid face. So I'm going to fix that!" he proclaimed, grabbing his utensils once more. Before I could make a sound I was cut off by the tell-tale paralysis of the pen, and once more I was powerless against his control. As I heard the scratch of that damn nib scrawling on the book, I felt the changes once more, this time in the form of a sprouting sensation in my scalp. I was unable to tell what was happening, until a strange form cascaded down the right side of my face. By this point I was seeing Red, literally! As it would turn out, my hair was growing long, becoming thicker and more luscious. As they dipped down my face, the locks were shifting from my regular brown to a fiery red. Unable to see anything to my right, I so desperately wished to be able to move my arms, as I found it strangely more assuring to know what I was transforming into, instead of being half-blind. Fortunately, I remembered the mirror on the other side of the room, and peered into it, to observe the inevitable next changes. I breathed a sigh of relief. At this point I still looked like myself, albeit if I had a redhead wig glued to my scalp. However, this would not last very long, as I felt a tingle grow in my mouth. As if puckering up for a kiss, my lips began to push away from my face. Expanding outwards, my flat manly mouth gave way to a thick, kissable woman's lips. As if to make them even more tantalizing, a distinct red glaze covered my lips, slathering them in a crimson lipstick. The plump pout on my masculine face make me look like a freak. I wanted nothing more than to get this over with. It seems like the changes willed it as well. To balance out my thick lips to my manly jawline, my skull began to change as well. I could feel the shifting about in my teeth as my jaw lost its density, and dwindled to a more feminine proportion. The change moved to my neck, and thinned it down to match the womanly jaw above, and the petit collarbone below. I could feel my Adam's apple retract back into my neck, making it smooth and slender. The changes continued in my skull, protruding my cheekbones, broadening my forehead, and shrinking my nose. Around my eyes, I felt several changes occur. I could feel them growing, yet my eyelids grew downwards, leaving me with a permanent "come-hither" look. In my peripheral vision I could see my eyelashes lengthening out as they darkened, no doubt covered in perpetual mascara. To match them, a shade of eye shadow came into being, highlighting my eyes in a violet hue. As I looking into the mirror, my reflection showed eyes shifting in color, from their normal brown to a brilliant emerald. My previously thick eyebrows dwindled into thin, expertly waxed brows, matching the red of my scalp. At last, I could tell the final, terrible changes were underway. My ears, ones that were the cause of many a mockery in elementary school, started to reduce in size, becoming more appropriate for my head. In an instant, my delicate earlobes were pierced. In their place lay two golden stud earrings dangling gracefully besides my face. Finally, Mel set the sketchbook down, as with the pen, its glistening nib mocking me. As they hit the table, I could feel my control returning. Finally, I could move on my own! I took a few steps, trying to stay balanced on these long heels, and even longer legs! Lifting my gloved hands to my face, I flexed my dainty fingers in disbelief. I tried to flip my hair away from my eye, but it flopped back to its original position. I should have known better, I couldn't deviate from Mel's drawn model. My only conclusion was this had to be a dream, so I decided to wake up. I squeezed my cheek between my manicured nails and pinched, surprised by the pain left by the sharp claws adorning my thin fingers. "It's no use Jessica, you aren't asleep. Welcome to reality, where you belong to me," Mel chuckled. I glanced over at the sketchbook, and sized up the situation. Mel wasn't the most fit guy I knew, so if push came to shove, I might be able to overpower him. It was then a matter of ripping off the Jessica Rabbit sheet, and destroying the nib. "I'm done with this bullshit!" I said, surprised by my voice. Instead of the gruff 20-something voice that once was mine, I instead spoke with the sultry, mature tone of Jessica Rabbit. Regardless how I planned on saying, what came out sounds breathy and sexy regardless of its message. I then remembered my plan, and dashed to the book. I wobbled a bit on the heels, but took long enough strides on my lengthy legs to reach the notebook in one or two wavering steps. I was nearly ready to snatch the notebook when I heard Mel's voice ring out. "I don't think you want to take that sketchbook, Jessica. Nor do you want to grab that pen, either." His voice rang out in my mind, and every nerve in my new body came to a halt. The sudden stop shot a bounce throughout my body, sending my tits into a frenzied jiggle. I brought my hands each offending breast and stopped their momentum before I recoiled them in embarrassment. Mel stepped forward and clutched the notebook in his sweaty hands. "See this here? I'd call this one part contingency plan on my end, and two parts good behavior on your end." He chuckled as he flipped the sketchbook around, as if to show off his creation. What I saw was a near perfect rendition of Jessica Rabbit, drawn over the translucent image of my previous caricature. Whereas the previous sheet had "WAYNE" hastily scribbled over my model, this one said "JESSICA RABBIT". Below it, a scribbled out word lay on the sheet, an arrow pointing to the subject it describes. On further notice, it was where he wrote "IMMOBILE". I suppose once a descriptor word is written over it becomes void. Beside the scratched out word was one more. This time Mel's erratic handwriting read "OBEDIENT". "Melvin you fuck, what's this supposed to mean?!" I said with a slight stutter. I was still getting used to the way I spoke with plump lips. "Like I said before, Jessica. You are mine. Simple as that. You do as I say, regardless if you want to or not. See, like this. Turn around for me, would you?" Just as the words escaped his mouth, I immediately turned around, facing away from my captor. Suddenly, I then felt the sharp rap of his palm strike against my ass, making me leap forwards few inches. I brought my hands to my rear, massaging the pain away from my hefty cheeks. "You see, it's just like that. You're my girlfriend Jessica, and there's nothing you can do about it," he sneered, admiring my rear as I caressed it. "Oh, and you can turn around." I stomped around, tears in my eyes. "I'm not your fucking play toy, I'm not your fucking girlfriend, and I'm not your fucking Jessica!" I screamed at him. Mel backed up, and flipped the page to his previous sketch of me. "Are you sure that's not your name? Let's test that." In one swift motion, Mel ripped the drawing of me from the sketchbook. I felt my heart sink. "Now, tell me your name, would you please?" he said, his tone dripping with smarm. "Well, my name is J-uh," I stammered, fidgeting about. "What was my name?" I thought, trying to recall just what it was. My uncovered eye fell on the crumpled drawing in Mel's hand, where I saw "WAYNE" in his distinctive font. "Yeah! My name's Wayne!" I exclaimed. Mel looked confused, scanning over the drawing in his hand, then back at me. "Oh, I get it, hold on," he said, placing the sketchbook on the table. "You stay right there, I'll fix this." My knees locked up as was once again immobile from the legs down. I saw Mel gallop to his room, and disappear behind a corner. In a moment, he emerged once again with some sort of plastic tool in his hand. He walked past me; his hand grazing my hips, and made his was to the patio. Once outside, he placed the drawing in an old bucket, and brought forth his item. I recognized it at once; it was a cheap gas station lighter. "No!!!" I screamed at him as he flicked the lighter, sending sparks that gave away to a dim flame. He brought the wrinkled drawing to the blaze, and sheepishly dropped it in the bucket. As the fire licked the paper, I tried to hold onto to my information, but found it disappearing into the dark recesses of my unconscious. A minute passed as Mel emerged from the patio, a grin on his face. "Alright, you're good to move. So, what was that again? I forgot. You could remind me of your name?" he said, his voice taking a tone that was half childish and half vitriolic. "Uh, um-" I said, stalling for time. I bit down on my lip, feeling the plump mass between my perfect teeth. Mel took a step towards me. "Tell me your name," he commanded. Immediately I released my lip, and spoke up. "My name is Jessica," I muttered, the words forced from my lips. "Jessica what?" "...Jessica Rabbit." The words poured out of my mouth against my will. I tried desperately to search for my name, my age, anything about who I was, and I found nothing. Mel threw his hands up in excitement. "Oh thank god! It worked!" he exclaimed. Suddenly, I was feeling faint. All of the standing coupled with the shock was getting to my head. I began to sway, but my legs stayed in place, held by Mel's command. My vision began to fade. "Ah, sorry! You can move now," said Mel. Suddenly, I was released from his grip, and I went limp. The last thing I saw was Mel rushing over to me as I hit the carpet. I awoke to the sight of Mel hovering over me. By the looks of it, I was laying down, draped over his knees. "Hey, you took a nasty spill there. You okay?" he asked, his face hanging over mine. I tried to remember what happened, how I got here. There was something about a mall, some sort of store, coming back to Mel's apartment, and then- It all came back to me. Frantically, I glanced down at my body, my head nearly colliding with Mel's. I examined my body, and breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was mine alright. From my petit feet to my full breasts- wait... This wasn't right. This was the body that Mel forced me into. Even worse, it was starting to actually feel like mine! This was undoubtedly the work of that nib. Little by little, I was loosing sense of who I really was, and I couldn't even tell. I tried to get up, but Mel pushed me back down. "Hey, take it easy Jess. I don't want you to hurt yourself, now that I gotta take care of you now," he cooed, entirely too close for comfort. I struggled against his grip. "Why are you doing this? You're ruining my life Mel! Just let me go and get someone else for your perverted fantasy," I exclaimed. I managed to push myself away from him, scooting to the opposite end of the couch. "Well, I guess you just don't get it," Mel sighed, shuffling closer. "The fact of the matter is, I'm not a ladies man. I know that who I am doesn't exactly attract women, and that's fine. Most women are bitches anyways, so I don't bother with them. But here, I was given a once in a lifetime chance. That old guy at that store, I think he knew what I really needed, not just some nibs for drawing. He gave me this because I deserved it, you don't expect me to squander this gift, do you?" His logic bothered me. I always knew he had girl problems, but I didn't know they were this bad. "Well, you could have picked someone other than me, you know. How am I going to live looking like this?" I questioned. "That's the thing, you're no longer Wayn- the guy I used to know. You're Jessica Rabbit, and you're my girlfriend. You might as well forget everything you knew before, because you're going to live here, after we clean this place up, of course. You deserve better." With those words, I knew that I really was helpless. I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks as I buried my face against the back of the sofa. "A-ah, shit. I'll fix this, hold on." I could hear the tell tale scratching of the nib on the sketchbook. With a soft plop, he dropped the sketchbook on the table, and sat back down. I felt him rest his hand on my thigh. "Hey, don't worry. Everything's gonna' be fine," he assured, moving in close. I brought my face up from the couch, and looked into his. In that instant, I knew that despite everything that happened, Mel really did care about me. Still crying, I threw my gloved arms around his neck, and pulled him in for an embrace. He froze for a moment, then placed his arms around me, stroking my exposed back. The tears continued to gush from my eyes as I buried my face into his neck. After all that's happened, I just needed a bit of human contact, even if it was just Mel. I squeezed him closer, my breasts squished into his chest. Now that I thought about it, it might as well have been Mel. Despite what he's done, at least now he cares. And he's never been a bad guy before, just a little misguided. I brought my face up from his neck, and dried off my eyes, checking for any smeared makeup (there wasn't any, the makeup was permanent). I rested my chin on his shoulder, and gazed at the sketchbook. It appears that my observation was correct, he did make some changes to the drawing. Right next to the sketch of (me?), I noticed a thought bubble, like the ones seen in comics floating next to (my?) head. Within the bubble, two sentences stood out in Mel's distinctive handwriting. One read "MEL IS MY BOYFRIEND". The other "I