Finish the look

Stacy stood cautiously still, waiting for any more strange events. Besides the pleasing tingle that seemed to spread along her clothed skin, she no longer felt any outside **** influencing her body. She sighed in relief and relaxed her tense muscles, looking over the clothes she somehow stumbled into. She shook any odd memories from her mind, chalking up the supernatural events of the morning to her being half asleep. She had to admit she looked like an absolute knockout, and the warmth that seemed to emanate from the fibers of her outfit made her feel as sexy as she looked. She bit her lip, lost in thought about how she could easily pick up someone if she looked like this, but she chided herself for thinking like a horny, little ditz. She checked the clock by her bed and was shocked to see she had slept till noon! She was really going to let her employee have it on Monday now that he'd also affected her sleep cycle. "Shit, I don't think I have any time to change!" she muttered to herself, not that it was a horrible outfit, but it wasn't something she'd choose for grocery shopping. She rushed to her vanity, noting through the mirror an extra sway to her walk. "I guess I'll freshen myself up quickly." She decided, though her body sat her down before her consciousness decided to. She looked at her automatic legs in confusion. While these pants were tight, she didn't think her thighs should look this thick, this...juicy within them. The amount of fat that she could feel was nowhere near as much as could see being confined in the capris. "These must be really good heels...and I'm sitting." She justified to herself, as her delicate arms reached for her makeup.

Typically she wore what was required to not get judgmental stares from sexists in public: some foundation and simple touches of eyeliner and blush, maybe a light shade for her lips. So it was quite a shock to her as her arms stiffened and twisted against her planned choices; a tug at her elbow or a pinch at her shoulder made her hand flex and aim her product in a much more experienced and professional manner. The pinches and twists weren't painful; they were like acupuncture needles, reaching deep into her muscle tissue to automatically adjust her motion. If she wasn't currently using such fine motor skills, she might not even notice something was amiss. Instead of a basic eyeliner, she watched herself continue to draw a thicker, more intricate wing than she had never tried before, and she found herself doing it with perfect precision. She couldn't complain about the results, feeling proud that she could do such an expert look. Her pride turned to slight confusion as she felt a similar influence when she reached for a lipstick, and another tug at her sleeve placed her hand upon a bold, red tube instead of the natural shade she'd aimed for. She tried to release the applicator, but the pinching tightness on her wrist restricted the muscles, not allowing her fingers to release, and her hand continued its path to her lips.

As easily as her arm rose against her will, it held in place an inch from her mouth, as if waiting for her lips to cooperate. It was like a debilitating muscle cramp; she willed her arm muscles to strain beneath the skintight Lycra top, but the limb would not relent. She decided it would be easier to just commit to this shade. She pursed her lips as she had a thousand times before, and her arm painted her thin lips an inviting crimson. Stacy placed the used tube back with her others and decided this look was a major upgrade to her usual design, but she could tolerate being in public like this. "Maybe I'll just pick up a guy while I'm out." She joked to herself. She wasn't so humble to not admit she was attractive, but she reserved her man hunting for weekends at bars or clubs. There, she was hot enough and independent enough to be picky, even with the better class of man those destinations attracted. Random men in public were usually crasser about their intentions, and she'd rather go unnoticed by them on a typical day.

As Stacy was recalling past catcalls, she assumed she was rising to leave her bedroom, but as she focused back on the moment, she realized in shock that her arms were still on autopilot, painting her eyelids with a smoky, dark blue, bringing out her dazzling eyes and making them appear larger. Her current look was now more 'seductive temptress' rather than 'single lady, looking.' It was more than she would use on even her thirstiest date night. "I look like an InstaSnap model!" She gaped at her professional styling, not believing that she had done this herself in the same amount of time it usually took for her casual look. The freezing tightness on her legs finally released and she felt her pert rear pushing her to a standing position. She tried to walk to her full-length mirror and inspect her ensemble, but her body slithered and twisted with an unfamiliar sexual technique that rolled her hips and bounced her wobbling chest enticingly. Those minute, muscle manipulations in her arms now spread along her entire figure, though she could only focus on one controlled body part at a time. She looked down in shocked confusion at her curvy form strutting towards the glass. Her movements appeared natural, even intended, but Stacy was struggling against the tugging on her limbs with all her willpower. Her body planted its red heels firmly before the mirror, posing and preening like she was inspecting herself before a date, only her face showing any sign of concern. She hardly recognized her new appearance.

Her observation about thicker legs was confirmed to not just be from sitting. She definitely looked to have bulked up in the hips and thighs, giving her a juicy, heart-shaped, bubble butt. Her entire leg seemed solidly toned while her rear still shook like jelly with every posture shift. Her trim waist looked unchanged as it remained bared, but it only served to emphasize her other changes. Her chest received a similar boost as her ass, filling and lifting against gravity. "And this is a compression top..." Stacy mused, trying to picture these things released. Her areolas appeared through the straining fabric, darker and larger than the cute little caps she remembered her nipples being. Her shoulders seemed more delicate than before as the tight Lycra revealed every detail of her arms. Her face looked like it belonged to someone else but was still definitely hers; her eyes appeared wider and brighter from the expertly placed colors, and before-unnoticed contouring gave her a slender, high-cheekboned face, and her usually narrow mouth looked plush and full, shining with a delicious gloss.

"I look like a whore." Stacy complained grimly. The shame blushing her cheeks only served to give her an aroused glow, confirming her self-identification. The dreaded tingle flashed across her painted face, and she felt the corners of her crimson mouth tug, while her throat constricted suddenly beneath her athletic turtleneck. "I look gorgeous." She heard herself purr appreciatively. The influence faded and she coughed in confusion, clasping a slender hand to her neck. She had sounded as different as she looked, but the experimental syllables she tried next sounded like herself. Another glance at her clock told her she would have to go out like this.