An exploration of femininity

As Pamela slowly returned to the world, her first thought was that her head was pounding. She blinked, her senses coming back to her, and the second thing she noticed was that she was laying on the attic floor, the creaking wooden boards cold on her naked skin. The girl slowly rose to her feet, shaking her head in an attempt to get rid of the pain, and assessed her barrings.

Evidently, she'd fallen down - presumably losing consciousness shortly after having used the World Processor. She grunted, looking at the machine. That's twice now; she'd have to be more careful. Glancing to where she'd fallen, she noticed she'd covered the floorboards with Thomas' drying cum. She groaned at that too, realizing she'd have to either clean up her mess, or have them fade into the wood. Then again, she considered, it wouldn't have been the first time she and Thomas left stains on the attic floor.

Fully awake, it was then she realized how alive she felt. The Latina girl stretched, the motion causing muscles to ripple from beneath her skin. She moved with a strength she'd never had before, and that's when it clicked.

Her change. She'd made herself fit, flexible, and beautiful. Eternally young. Forever sexy. She had to check herself out. And, she added once she'd moved towards the stairs, wash Thomas' cum off.

Barreling down the stairs, she rushed to the washroom, making a pit stop at her room for her phone to maybe do a bit of research, and almost ran into a naked Thomas, towel wrapped around his waist, having just finished showering himself. He flashed her a grin, which she returned, and she gave his ass a pinch as she bypassed him into the room beyond, locking the door behind her with a soft click.

The first thing she did was run to the full body mirror, and nearly fell back in shock.

Her body had changed. Being twenty-two, she didn't look that much younger, but there was a few differences, although subtle. She was slimmer, the only fat on her body either serving to accentuate her curves or having moved to provide ample boobage. The rest of her was all muscle, toning her body in such a way that showed that she was active, fit, and perfectly in shape. She also assumed she'd be able to maintain her definition with minimal to no exercise, the World Processor having most likely changed her metabolism to ensure she stayed this way for the rest of her life.

Even her tits, which had started to ever-so-slightly sag due to their daily milking, something only she had noticed due to having grown the pair herself, looked incredible. The sag was gone, her tits now standing firm and perky on her chest, awaiting their next milking. Or groping.

Remembering how she'd worded her change, she also decided to try out her flexibility, and was delighted to see that she could touch her toes by simply bending at the waist, folding neatly in two, and that she could easily do the splits, the knowledge coming to her instinctively. She grinned - her new found flexibility would see much use in bed.

The real shocker however was her hair. Pamela had always had dark hair, a product of her Latina heritage, but now her hair was a vivid auburn, her locks falling with a beautiful shine, luscious curls adorning her ends. But the real question was how did it define her age?

She learned that with a quick google search. Apparently, there was now what was called a Woman's Hair Color Circle; it showed which color a woman's hair would likely be as she aged. Babies and toddlers started with jet black hair, and from there their hair would shift through the Color Circle, each new color beginning at the turn of every new decade of life. Teenagers were redheads, which faded in auburn once they reached their twenties like Pamela. From there, they became brunettes and then golden/dirty blonde, the hair slowly becoming lighter and as they aged. It eventually finished with hair becoming what was traditional blonde in their fifties, bleached in their sixties, and sheer white or grey in their seventies and beyond. Although, it did seem the were some exceptions.

There was even talk about a girl's Golden Years, which happened following menopause, when a girl was close to retirement and could enjoy her life savings, no longer worrying about kids, blonde hair shining brightly. She scowled at the terrible pun.

Still, it turned into a grin when she glanced back at herself. She was vibrant; never had she looked this good. And with her change affecting all women, Thomas would have eyes only for her!

That made her pause, the reality of what she'd just done crashing down on her. She'd just changed something fundamental about her person for someone else. And it wasn't because she was in a lusty, horny haze like last time. She'd become the definition of sexy; all because some dude with a big dick had eyes for her best friend.

Suddenly her new body didn't seem all that incredible. Still, if it kept Thomas from eyeing Bianca....

She turned on the shower, her movements distracted as she contemplated what she'd just done.

As Pamela was making her change, Thomas was turning the shower head, shutting off the rushing torrent of water as it faded into a tiny trickle. He sighed deeply, feeling revitalized and fresh.

Pamela had gotten him off three times in the past hour. While that itself wasn't impressive, what with his endless masculine virility, it had been the first time a girl had ever done that to him. It was incredible how far he'd come in the past week. All thanks to the World Processor.

She Latina girl was his; that he knew. Already she was making changes to please him, even though he couldn't remember them. He'd have to check and see if she'd be willing to make changes on his behalf. As an eventual member of his harem, he'd expect nothing less than absolute obedience from the girl. While he was still a far cry from that, maybe he could make another modification to consolidate his hold over her. It surely wouldn't hurt.

His main priority right now though was expanding his number of girls. Pamela was fun, her exotic-looking skin making her somewhat of a rarity in the city they lived in, but with a near limitless libido, she'll eventually tire out and he'd still be rearing for the next round. Little to no refractory period will do that to a man.

No, what he wanted was Bianca. After having made his dick the sole factor that determined a man's attraction, two girls had literally jumped his bones at the first opportunity. He smiled, remembering Caroline as she bounced on his dick. But Bianca offered a challenge. He didn't want to just change the world to get her, he wanted her to come to him.

The idea of sending her back to her boyfriend with his name on her ass made him throb.

Toweling himself off, he wrapped the wet cotton around himself and made for his room, almost running into Pamela as he exited the washroom.

He smiled down at her, noting his still drying cum, and was pleased when she smiled back. What he wasn't expecting however was the slap on the ass he got as she darted passed him, grinning mischievously. He grinned, loving how far she'd come.

The moment was cut short when he spotted Bianca emerging from her room, "fully dressed" in a black thong. When she spotted him, she stopped abruptly, and turned back into her room, closing the door. Great, now she was avoiding him. That made things difficult.

Walking into his bedroom, he took a moment to compare the two girls. Objectively, they were both very attractive - sexy, fit, flexible. Problem was, all girls were; so when it came to determining what was attractive about a girl, one had to look at their differences.

Pamela was Latina, so already that made her way hotter in his books. He was pretty sure he'd never tired of seeing that darkened skin, glowing brightly with sweat. And the way she mewed as he fucked her - god damn. He was hard just thinking about it. But she'd also proven herself to be loyal, teasing, and playful. He liked that in a girl.

Already he'd decided she'd be the main girl in his harem. Not only was she his first, but she'd be the one he'd always go back too. He chuckled, remembering how she'd almost admitted to having feelings for him. Maybe he was doing the same with her too.

Bianca was a different animal. Caucasian; white skin clashing with Pamela's - that was one of the two main things that set her apart from her best friend. The other was that Bianca's tits were much bigger. Not too big so that they didn't match her fit frame, but she still sported a pair of incredible knockers none the less.

Thomas had a name for those kind of girls - Breeders. Sure, some companies employed similarly well endowed women as Dairy Girls to produce what they called "premium milk" but Thomas felt like that was a waste of their assets. Some men, like Thomas, believed that girls with big tits were natural born mothers. After all, big tits meant more milk, and the more milk one produced, the easier it was to ensure their family was growing healthy.

Bianca was definitely one of these girls.

Caroline was too, he remembered. As they fucked, he'd watched how her tits bounced, encased in the bra she'd worn to work, and had honestly asked her how long it took to milk those puppies. She'd blushed when she'd answered half an hour total. Maybe she had a place in his harem too; although he'd need Kyle to send her his way again.

The last thing he needed out of his girls were those that would work for him. If Pamela fell into the category of those he'd actively fuck, with Bianca being one of the ones he'd actively breed, he needed a couple girls that would manage his finances, pay for his eventual house, and keep his illustrious empire going. It would probably be women with much small tits; those often only produced enough milk to feed themselves, and truth be told Thomas wasn't entirely attracted to that kind of girl.

He chuckled at what he was doing: creating an hierarchy that revolved around women's cup sizes. It certainly matched what he'd done with men and their dicks.

Thomas had big plans. But as with any great plan, it was best to start off small. And that meant figuring out what to do about Bianca. He grinned, remembering he still had a change to make that day.

Maybe he'd use it to his continued advantage.

Or, he later thought, he could use it to mitigate Kyle. Both had their merits. He dropped his towel and started rummaging through his dresser, contemplative.