Changes and Alterations
by Derob JacobsCopyright 1999, Derob Jacobs.
Christine sat in the cafeteria, gently drumming her heels against the legs of her chair as she watched the parade of new sorority pledges march past her. It was the middle of pledge week at BEU; none of the would-be sorority girls were allowed to wear makeup. Let's hear it for ritual humiliation!
Not that Chris cared. It wasn't like she wanted to join a sorority. Stupid conformists doing stupid conforming things.
She sighed. She wasn't jealous, honest. She was just -- just -- just tired of being "that girl with a great personality."
Chris sighed again and finished her ice cream. The pledges were still filing past. It would be a while before she could return her tray.
Phil slid into the chair next to her and put his tray on the table. He took off his Coke-bottom glasses and polished them on his shirt while squinting in the vague direction of the sorority girls. "I s-s-s-see the c-c-cuh-cattle d-d-drive is puh-passing through."
"Hey, Phil." She rested her chin on her hands. "Yeah, just thinking about all those girls."
"Surely yuh-yuh-you don't w-w-wan't to be one of th-th-those g-g-g-girls?" Phil replaced his glasses.
"No, course not." By now the line was beginning to thin. She might be able to leave in a second. "No," she repeated. "It's not that."
"Th-th-then what is it?"
She grimaced. "Nothing." Chris could hear the old recess taunts in her mind. Fatso. Lard-ass.
"W-w-wuh-well." The noise level in the cafeteria dropped as the last of the pledges left to continue their walk of shame elsewhere. "I-I-I've got someth-th-thing to sh-sh-sh-show you tonight. Come by my r-r-room around eight."
"Sure thing." Chris gave her ice-cream spoon one last lick, gathered up her tray, and headed for the exit.
Phil's room was usually short of being quarantined by FEMA. Tonight was no exception. Old clothes and textbooks fought for floorspace, occasionally losing out to wrappers from the candy bars Phil was so fond of. Christine waded through the debris towards Phil's desk. He looked rather gnomic in the bluish light from the fluorescent bulb over his desk.
"Good thing you don't have a roommate." She shoved a pile of papers off of an old easy chair and sat.
"Have a suh-seat," he grunted.
Chris leaned forward. Phil was pouring a measured amount of liquid into a tray covered with oblong depressions. It looked like an ice tray for people who liked very tiny slivers of ice. "What're you doing?"
"I'll explain in a muh-moment, as soon as the pills are ready."
She looked more closely at the tray. In the dimples that Phil had filled before Chris entered, the liquid had solidified into what looked very much like a large Tylenol caplet.
It wasn't long before Phil was done filling the tray. He sat the beaker of liquid over a barely-lit Bunsen burner and swiveled his chair towards Chris. "You don't like your body."
Chris grimaced. "Now, hang on. Just because you've known me for years doesn't mean you can --"
"Oh, come on. It's as plain a-a-as the nose on my face, and my nuh-nose is pretty plain. You walk with your head down, you slump your shoulders. Geez, Chris, yuh-you do everything but wear a sign."
"Did you ask me here to insult me?" She stood and began wading through debris towards the door. "Because it's not very funny."
"I can ch-change you."
Chris stopped. Her shoulders hunched. "What?" she said softly.
"These pills. They cuh-can change you."
Books toppled over as she clumsily turned back around. "What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, Phil squinted at her. He stood up. "Come over here," he told Chris. When she did so, he placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her around. "About a thuh-thirty-six A in the chest, right? And a forty-eight wuh-waist?"
"That's awfully creepy, Phil." She looked down at him. "How can you tell?"
"I've got a guh-good eye." He blushed. "Plus I peeked at your clothes when we went to the l-luh-laundromat last Saturday."
"You, sir, are up to no good. I can tell." She moved towards the chair. "Can I sit?"
"Oh! Yuh-yuh-yes, of cuh-course you cuh-c-c-can!" Christine and Phil both sat back down. "I juh-just wanted to show you that I've th-thought this through.
"Those p-p-pills will alter your body's set point and change your base weight. They wuh-will also alter where you store your fat." He beamed at her.
"You made those pills, and you think they'll do that?"
"Oh, I-I-I'm sure of it. I'm way past the initial discovery and early trials.
"What you are luh-looking at is an all-but-finished product. The only things standing between those pills and the market is fuh-federal approval and final testing."
She eyed the little white capsules. "You've tested it?"
"Of c-c-course I've t-t-t-tuh-tested it! You think I'd g-g-guh-give it t-t-to you if it wuh-wasn't tuh-tested?"
"Calm down! Calm down." She began swinging her legs gently under the chair. "You've got to admit that this is pretty weird. You can't expect me just to swallow some home-made pills on your say-so." She picked up a pill. It felt lumpy. "How's it work, anyway?"
"Tailored muh-mutagenic drugs. They make subtle changes to your genetic code and slowly move your body's m-m-metabolism into overdrive." He shrugged. "It takes time to alter a body permanently without doing damage. You'd huh-have to take the pills for a month and I can't guarantee the exact results."
"Give me comforting generalities, then."
He smiled. "First of all, th-they shift what your body thinks its weight should be. Your metabolism will alter to rid itself of excess fat, then reach a new equilibrium point. It's buh-best if you alter your caloric intake as well, so I've added a mild appetite suh-supressor to the pill to help you form new eating habits."
"So I lose weight."
"Some weight. The puh-problem is that your body doesn't add and remove fat in an ideal way. Yuh-your waist shrinks, but so do your breasts."
"Great." Chris glanced down at her chest. "Just what I need. Smaller boobs."
"No! Thuh-that won't happen with these pills. They change parts of your genome to make your body preferentially store fat first in your b-b-buh-breasts, then elsewhere. You'll end up with more of a classic hourglass figure thuh-than...uh, well."
"A pear. I know." She frowned, her brow wrinkling. "This sounds risky."
"I won't try to fuh-fool you. This treatment is not without its risks." He pushed his glasses further up his nose. "But it is not without its guh-great rewards."
"Changing my body's set point? Altering my genes?" She stood. "All with some home-made pills that haven't passed FDA trials?" Chris shook her head. "This doesn't sound like a drug regimen for me."
One of Phil's eyebrows went up. "If yuh-you wish. This is completely your decision."
Chris started for the door, then stopped. Inside her head a voice was chanting. Fatty, fatty, two by four. She massaged her temples. The beginnings of a nasty headache were making her head throb.
"Fine. I'll try your pills. What do I need to do?"
"I've made enough pills for a month." He picked up the blue plastic tray and twisted it, popping the pills free. He produced a baggie from somewhere and slid the pills into them. "Take one a day at luh-lunch." He handed her the bag and a loose pill. "You can start tonight, though."
She held the pill in her right hand. Viewed close up, it was bumpy and irregular. It lacked the comforting smooth finish of a commercial pill, and was without identification. "So." When she sits around the house, she sits around the house. "Here goes."
The pill was chalky and left a terrible taste in her mouth. "Gah," she said. "Better living through chemistry." She looked around for a glass of water. All Chris could find was a glass rimmed with green mold.
"Taking it with food will help cut the tuh-taste."
"I've got to go find some water, and no I don't want to use that glass, thanks." She stepped over a pile of clothes on her way to the door, the baggie clutched in her left hand. "Um. Thanks for this."
"Hey, what are f-f-friends for? G'night."
Christine toyed with her chili dog, pushing it around the plate with her fork. Ugh. She wasn't fond of the cafeteria's chili dogs at the best of times, and as little as she had felt like eating today, there was no way she was going to try to choke that down. Maybe she should turn vegan.
"A puh-penny f-f-for your th-thoughts." Phil sat down across from her and began wolfing down his chili dog.
"How can you eat that?"
"Mmmf?"
"Never mind." The sight of Phil attacking his meal like a piranha on crystal meth made her stomach do a slow roll. "I'll give you my thoughts for free, though: Your pills don't do squat."
Phil paused and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Ih-Ih-it's only b-buh-been fuh-five days. Give it t-tuh-time."
"Right, time." She stared morosely at the table of newly-minted sorority girls, fresh from their stint as pledges. "In fact, it's time to take your tasty little miracle of modern medicine."
"Yuh-you t-th-think I sh-sh-should add ch-cherry flavoring?" Phil asked as Chris fished one of the pills out of her pocket and downed it.
"Yarg." She grimaced, then gulped down several mouthfulls of iced tea. "Cherry flavor?" Her stomach did a slow roll again. "Maybe you should make tasteless gelcaps instead."
"T-t-tuh-tasteless? Ick."
It was freezing in the dorm room. Pam had obviously forgotten to turn the heat back up again. "Pam?" called Chris. There was no answer. She must have already left for her eight o'clock class.
She couldn't avoid the cold, so Chris lept out of bed and dashed to the thermostat to turn it up. From there she sped to the bathroom, nearly squealing as her feet hit ice-cold linoleum. A hot shower helped chase away any lingering traces of cold.
What to wear, what to wear. She riffled through her closet, eventually choosing an old baggy sweater and some nondescript jeans that were her favorite. She sucked in her stomach to button the jeans, then let her breath out with a whoosh. To her surprise, her stomach didn't immediately leap out over the waistband.
Had they stretched? The jeans were old; it was possible some of the stitching had loosened during the last wash. Then she realized what was going on. It had happened. She hadn't believed Phil, not really, but maybe...
She rummaged through Pam's desk until she found the cloth tape measure she was searching for. She unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall to the floor. The tape around her waist read forty-six.
Forty-six! Hot damn, forty-six! When was the last time she'd lost an inch, let alone two?
Christine is sooo fat, said the voice in her head, but this time it sounded a little uncertain.
It was the fastest she'd run in a long time. She reached Phil's dorm completely out of breath, breathing in great gulps of air, tears wrung from her eyes by the wind of her passage. The elevator took forever to arrive in the lobby, and even longer to take her up three floors.
"Phil!" she shouted while hammering on his door. He was never up before eleven or twelve. "It's Chris. Open up!"
She had to beat on his door for a good minute before the door to Phil's room opened slightly. He blinked sleepily in the light, his hair one big cowlick. "What?" he snapped.
"Forty-six!" she said proudly. "It may have taken eight days but my waist is forty-six and I'm on my way and I can't believe it works!" She kissed his forehead in her excitement.
Phil blinked at her several times. "Of cuh-course it works." He shut his door, leaving Chris in the hallway.
It was, she decided, the little things she loved most about not being so fat any more. Her energy level was higher. When she walked her thighs no longer rasped against each other. She had to cinch all of her pants to keep them from falling down. She hadn't realized the difference that losing six or seven inches from her waist would make.
"You sure are taking off the pounds," Pam said when Chris asked if she could borrow some clothes for the next day.
Christine blushed. "Can you tell?"
"How could I miss it?" She smiled. "You remember telling me how much you wished you weren't fat?"
"About as much as you hated --"
"-- being short!" Pam finished for her, laughing. "Well, it looks like you've gotten your wish."
Chris gazed into the mirror. Her round face was beginning to show a hint of cheekbones, and the fat on her arms was in retreat. She wasn't a stick by any stretch of the imagination, but she wasn't as morbidly obese as she had been.
"Yeah," she said. "Pretty much."
"Pretty much? At the rate you're going, you'll be smaller than me by next week." Pam clambered into the top bunk and burrowed into the covers. "Turn down the heat before you get in bed."
"Yes, ma'am!" She turned off the lights as well, then dove under the covers.
"Pam?"
"Yes?"
Chris paused. "Do you still hate being short?"
Pam was quiet for a moment. "No," she said. "Not really." The bedsprings protested as Pam rolled over. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still not rejoicing that I'm short." She sighed. "But if I can't change my height, I can at least change what I think about it."
Boobless wonder, whispered the voice in Chris's head.
"How easy was it for you to change your mind?"
Pam snorted. "I'm still working on it."
"Oh." Chris turned over and drifted off to sleep.
It seemed like she had been asleep for only minutes before the alarm started ringing. "Gnnh," she muttered, slapping at the alarm.
After she had showered, she learned that Phil's pills had begun the next stage of their work. Her bra felt a little tight, and a small hillock of flesh rose up behind its cups. "Boobs," she said in a quiet voice. "I'm finally going to get real boobs."
"What?" Pam's voice, thick with sleep, drifted in from the bedroom.
"Go back to sleep! I'm just choosing which pants of yours I'm borrowing."
"Not the khaki ones...." The sentence ended in a soft snore.
"Hey, Christine!"
Chris looked up from her books to see LeeAnn flouncing her way. "Oh. Hey, LeeAnn. Don't see you around here much."
"There's a book I've got to check out for Granger's Listening to Music class." She smiled. Her smile reminded Chris of used car salesmen and Cheshire cats. "I haven't seen you much since freshman year." She glanced up and down at Chris. Her smile dimmed a bit. "You...you look really good."
Chris's eyebrows went up. "Really?" She leaned back in her chair. "Thanks!" She started to cross her arms, then remembered not to. "You look great too." As always, said the voice in her head.
Silence descended, the sort of silence that accompanies the conversation of people who don't really like each other all that much. "Well, I'm supposed to meet Jordan here so we can study together. Catch you later!" Chris watched as LeeAnn sauntered away, trim butt wiggling under her skirt. Bitch.
"Who wuh-was that?" Phil asked, stepping around the carrel beside her.
"About time you got here!" She grabbed his arm and headed for one of the conference rooms which dotted the walls of the library.
"I wuh-was waiting until yuh-you were done talking. I r-r-ruh-repeat: Who was she?"
"LeeAnn. She was my roommate my freshman year. Used to be my friend, until she pledged Beta and stopped having time for me."
"Cuh-cute rear. I duh-didn't know s-s-suh-sorority girls ever s-s-set fuh-foot in Harrison after th-th-the f-freshman l-l-luh-library class."
"She's 'studying' with her boyfriend." Chris reached one of the conference rooms and dragged Phil inside, shutting the door after them.
"Suh-so what's up?"
"My breasts!" she hissed. "They're getting too big too fast."
"Really?" He stared at her chest. "Th-they don't look all that big."
"I've got them wrapped in an Ace bandage under my sweater."
"A buh-bandage?"
"Yes, a bandage! I can't keep buying new bras every two days. They're too expensive!" She started to cross her arms again, then stopped. "And they're growing so fast I'm getting stretch marks!"
"I told you I couldn't g-guarantee the results. The good nuh-news is that your body should stabilize in the next week or so. In the meantime, rub lotion into your b-breasts to minimize stretch marks."
She sighed. "To be honest, they're not really all that big. It's just that they've grown so much in the last three days that I'm afraid I'll end up looking like a freak."
Phil smiled. "Duh-don't worry about that. Your body will stop shifting fat so fast. The redistribution happens the most quickly at the beginning, then t-t-tails off."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Well, okay."
As she was walking out of her Life Science class, her mind miles away, Jordan tapped her on the shoulder. "Christine?"
Chris jumped slightly. None of her friends were in the class with her; most of the time no one spoke to her before or after class. "Um. Yes?"
"I was wondering something." He stopped.
"Yes?" Chris repeated.
"Well, I wanted to know if..." There was another long pause. "See, I didn't really follow Dr. Jeffries's explanation of the ATP cycle."
"Uh-huh."
"So." Jordan paused.
"I'm a little confused. Is there a question hiding around here somewhere?"
Jordan covered his eyes with his hand. "I'm screwing this up. Let me try again." He took a deep breath. "I wanted to know if you'd study with me tonight. We could grab a quick bite and hit the books."
Chris's mind wheeled. "What about LeeAnn?"
"We're not really together any more."
"Oh." How did Jordan know her? They'd barely spoken more than three times before today. "Uh, sure, I guess."
They hadn't been studying all that long before Jordan had told Chris that he needed a break. Somehow they'd ended up driving around in Jordan's car, then pulling off of a lonely dirt road and under some sheltering trees.
Could this be happening? Chris wasn't the kind of girl guys took parking in the woods near BEU. She was the kind of girl guys said was a "good friend."
Scratch that. She used to be that kind of girl. Tonight she was the girl with Jordan's hand wandering up the back of her shirt.
Jordan stopped kissing Chris. "What's the deal with your bra?"
"Oh." She drew away from Jordan. "I've been, uh, growing out of my bras lately and have had to make do."
"I noticed you looked bigger." He grinned. "It's what made me ask you out." He started tugging her shirt off. "You mind if I...?"
Jordan Butler was undressing her. "No," she said. Jordan Butler was undressing her.
He slowly pulled her shirt up and off. Her waist had slimmed noticeably. Her abdominal muscles were slightly defined, revealed as the fat had moved from her waist. Her trusty Ace bandage bound her chest.
Jordan kissed her stomach, then ran his tongue along her neck. They kissed deeply. Chris began unbuttoning Jordan's shirt, then slipped her hand between shirt and skin.
In response he untucked one end of the bandage and began unwinding it. With each layer he unwrapped her breasts bulged out a little further. The final strand of bandage scraped across Chris's nipples. They sprang erect.
"I knew they'd be big." Indeed, he couldn't cover one of them with both of his hands. Were they a D cup? DD? All Chris knew was that she now dwelt in an alphabetic realm she had never before imagined reaching. Jordan's thick fingers traced the fine white lines of stretch marks which radiated from her areolae. He lowered his head and gently bit each nipple in turn. Chris's head lolled back and she moaned.
While one of her hands finished unbuttoning Jordan's shirt, the other moved down to the crotch of his pants and began massaging his dick through the fabric. His hand roamed over her breasts -- they were so sensitive now! -- and then fumbled with the button of the jeans she'd borrowed from Pam.
They wriggled out of their pants and continued kissing, rubbing, licking. Jordan gently pushed her down onto the car seat and knelt over her. She slid her hand through the leg of his boxers and grabbed hold of his penis, feeling all along its length, gripping its head and running her palm over it. Jordan's breath hissed through his teeth. He squeezed her breasts, hard. Distractedly Chris noticed the fog which had settled on all the windows.
Then they were naked, his cock resting against her leg. They shuffled around awkwardly so that Jordan could push his dick through Chris's cleavage. She brought her arms against the sides of her breasts, squeezing them together and gripping Jordan's penis.
The first few thrusts of his against her breasts felt good. Her nipples felt like they were spewing heat into the cold car. But soon the skin along her cleavage began to chafe. "Jordan..."
"Shh." He put a finger to her lips and slid his penis down to her pussy. He was moving his engorged head over her thighs, around her pussy --
He was in, and it hurt, oh, God, did it hurt, he was too big. She'd only had sex once, back in high school, and that boy's dick was a little thing, not this bloated monster that threatened to split her open, Jesus, the pain was horrible.
Jordan started thrusting over and over. Chris's head repeatedly bumped into the side of the car. The pain dimmed a little, and an itchy, irritated feeling took its place. He bucked harder, pushed deeper, then arched his back. His hot semen filled her and dribbled onto the car seat.
They lay together then. A headache started behind her eyes, her insides felt scraped raw, and her whole body hummed with unreleased sexual tension. After a while, Jordan sat up and began redressing. Chris did the same. He leaned over to her and kissed her softly. "That was something, Christine."
Chris didn't answer.
The next day at lunch she walked past Phil, barely nodding to him, and sat next to Jordan, who introduced her to his friends.
Chris was there when Phil opened his door. "Oh." He pushed the door wider. "C-c-cuh-come in."
"How've you been?" Chris wandered in and shut the door behind her. All of the chairs except Phil's customary one at his workbench were filled. She leaned against a wall.
"D-d-d-decent." He looked at her. "Nuh-n-n-nice c-c-clothes."
"Oh, right. Thanks." A knit shirt strained to cover Chris's torso, and a new leather jacket gaped open, pushed aside by her breasts. Her pants were very tight. "I bought new ones."
"S-s-suh-so y-you've stopped ch-ch-changing, then?" he asked. There was an awkward pause.
"I wanted to thank you," Chris finally said. "I never expected to have a body like this."
"Y-y-you're huh-happy?"
A clock, buried somewhere under papers and clothes, quietly chimed the half-hour. Chris looked at Phil's workbench, at the glassware and burners and thick bottles of chemicals. There was a thin film of dust on all of it. "When will you be starting trial runs for the FDA?"
Phil shrugged. "Eventually."
The door to the room flew open so hard it rebounded from a textbook on chemical analysis. "You bastard," someone growled, "now I'll get what I deserve."
"LeeAnn?" said Chris in disbelief.
LeeAnn stopped. "Why, what a surprise. I didn't expect the slut to be here as well." Her grin didn't make Chris feel any more secure.
"W-w-w-w-whuh-what do you want?"
LeeAnn leapt over Phil's books to reach his workbench. "These." She snatched up a brown medicine bottle. "I'm guessing these are your boob pills?"
"LeeAnn! What are you doing?"
"T-t-thuh-those can buh-be d-d-duh-dangerous, Luh-LeeAnn. Whuh-why d-d-don't you guh-give them buh-b-b-back to muh-me?" Phil stood up slowly, hands held in front of him, palms towards LeeAnn.
"They've already been dangerous to me!" She backed away from Phil. With a convulsive motion she ripped off the top of the bottle. "They cost me Jordan, thanks to you and Ms. Chest over there!" Her hand shook. Several white pills leapt out of the bottle and onto the floor.
"But I found out how Chris got that body of hers. Your advisor was sooo excited to be asked about the research." She palmed a half dozen pills and popped them in her mouth, ignoring Phil's shout. Her neck moved as she valiantly choked them all down. "Well, now it's my turn."
"I r-ruh-r-really w-wuh-wish you h-h-hadn't done th-th-that. I d-d-don't know w-w-wh-what an overdose wuh-will do."
"Give me Jordan back, is what."
"Oh, LeeAnn, I didn't mean for --"
"It's starting!" LeeAnn pulled her halter top taut against her, outlining her small swellings of breasts. "I can feel it."
It happened quickly. Her breasts pushed harder and harder against her shirt. Phil and Chris could only stare as LeeAnn's boobs swelled like she had turned on a pump. "I'm getting bigger!" she said. Then she collapsed to the floor. "I'm getting dizzy."
"L-luh-LeeAnn?"
LeeAnn's head lolled. "I don' feel s'good." Her face muscles went completely slack and her jaw dropped a little. She stopped breathing.
The only sounds in the room were the ticking of a clock and the stretching of LeeAnn's top as her boobs grew more, untucking her shirt. Then even that motion stopped. LeeAnn was completely still.
"Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Why'd she die?" Chris went to check for a pulse.
"Don't touch her!" Phil shouted, making Chris jump back in surprise. "Luh-leave everything alone until th-th-the cuh-cops c-c-can guh-get here."
"Why'd she die?" Chris said again. She began to shake uncontrollably. "Will I die?"
"Her b-b-buh-brain," Phil said disgustedly. "I sh-sh-should have th-thuh-thought of th-th-that. Idiot."
"What about me?" Chris wailed.
"Yuh-you'll buh-be fine. It w-w-was the overdose th-th-that did it."
"So I'll be okay?"
"Th-the p-p-pills don't muh-m-m-make mass. Th-they m-m-make th-th-the body rearrange wh-what's there. And LeeAnn w-w-was so th-th-thin that huh-huh-her body t-t-took th-th-the fuh-fat from her b-buh-brain. It's muh-mostly f-f-f-fatty tissue." Phil slumped. "M-m-moved huh-her brains t-t-to her b-b-breasts."
A new thought struck Chris. "I guess the FDA won't let you sell the drug, huh?"
"Sh-sh-should've w-w-worked on m-muh-matter creation w-w-with Dr. F-f-f-Franks."
"Since it can wipe out people's brains, I mean." Pop! went one of the straps to LeeAnn's top. Her enlarged breasts spilled out.
Phil turned to Chris. His eyes were wet behind his glasses. "At least you got what you wanted."
"Yeah." Chris kept staring at LeeAnn. "What I wanted."