Wendy Removes What She Thinks Will Cause Problems

Wendy stared for a full three minutes as she looked at the horrifying menu of punishments, the last one threatening to ruin one of the few pillars of happiness and fulfillment she had in her life. The aliens really knew where to hit her, didn't they? They must've had her completely profiled down to her most frequent obsessions and occupations... down perhaps even to her most cherished friend. Now that friend might get mixed in with a punishment like High-Stakes Chess... in fact, who knows how else Wendy's most precious club membership could be endangered!

Reading the list again, Wendy was stuck with a total of ten punishments, only two of which she could remove, and only one of which she ever had any say in picking. She'd have to live with this development until the next game was thrust upon her with the vaguely uplifting promise of removing a punishment. She compared the clock and the timer, estimating that lunch would bring her the next round of obscure color-matching with a terrible interface, all to avoid being "punished" even more. So far it looks like the game forces me to play every six hours... and it's Tuesday, so if I win every mandatory game, or even lost just one, I would be rid of every punishment before the weekend! That hopeful thought comes crashing down with her eyes as she looks down at her new tits again.

But I can't go to school like this! But that was hardly the worst the list promised. Going over them all, it was clear the boobs would be among the last things she’d have to get rid of, as long as she could hide them... and even then, just to avoid probing questions from the sleeping sheep she went to school with. What explanation would they even believe? Would they just assume her parents bought her some plastic surgery for her chest but not her face? Wendy continued fantasizing of more and more absurd conversations with people who, by and large, did not spare her a moment of their time to speak. Outside of the Chess Club, virtually no one would really give a damn beyond a stray rumor or giggle. What she really had to worry about was the compounding problems of vanishing underwear, and vanishing clothes, and "Mardi Gras" curses...

Wait... wait a minute, THAT must be the experiment! They wanted to test me under duress! Of course... of course! This is all just to see how I operate when faced with absurd, out-of-the-ordinary challenges, no different from a mouse with an electrode in its brain while it runs a maze! Of course her bizarre tests were all sexual nature; she hasn’t a modicum of sex drive to be interested and she’s as reserved as she is brilliant. What more obvious a target would one need in terms of inflicting the highest amount of stress and/or discomfort in their test subject? Confident in her new theory, she boldly addresses the list; it is all she can do now, knowing her discomfort is their goal, and which options she removed would no doubt be measured and recorded by those monitoring her every move.

I can wear my old bras until they vanish. I’ll take spare underwear, three full sets, to get me through the day! The people asking me for clothes sounds... terrible, but if I take two spare outfits to school I should be fine… except for the part where I'm going to be **** to UNDRESS wherever they ask! No no no... okay, let's just focus on the harmless body modifications, so if we keep those, along with the underwear being disintegrated from afar... and if I just avoid lying at school so my clothes don't start falling apart or being taken off against my will... alright, that just leaves the punishments I have no control over… which means...

High-Stakes Chess
Headmaster’s Attention
Mardi Gras Special
An Immodest Proposal

Wendy could not accept any two of these remaining on the list... but unless she gambled on early games right now, she would have to walk into school with at least two. Alright... there's no way I'm letting them ruin Chess Club.

She clicked the punishment. The bar counting her removals swapped out with another with two simple buttons:

Remove HIGH-STAKES CHESS from your punishments? [YES] [NO]

Upon tapping the button, Wendy was treated with a brief series of flashing lights and the list truncating.

HIGH-STAKES CHESS removed!
There, that just leaves... everything.

Wendy was not a troublemaker, so the attention of the "Headmaster" (principal) was not really something that worried her. Between involuntary flashing and involuntary stripping, only the latter made it sound like people would be **** to ask her for clothes... and she had not one mote of expectation that anyone at school would pursue seeing her naked without compulsion. After all, who'd offer her beads or whatever to get her to flash them? Exactly one boy had ever asked to see her naked, and then only indirectly. Wendy nods hesitantly at her own breakdown of the odds...

Remove "AN IMMODEST PROPOSAL" from your punishments? "AN IMMODEST PROPOSAL" removed!

The "PUNISHMENT REMOVALS" counter at the bottom of her punishments list ticked down to zero as Wendy reviewed the list of life-complicating punishments that still stood in her way. Alright... Wendy looked up from the accursed app to the ceiling... where glow-in-the-dark green aliens, stuck years ago to her ceiling, smile harmlessly back down at her. She smirks confidently at the tiny alien cartoons as she tucks her glasses against the bridge of her nose. Your move.

A few beats pass...

Wait... how many bras do I even own? Such were the tactical thoughts and worries of Wendy Peppernickel as she prepared her supplies and equipment for the day. Her twelve bras meant she had a fairly narrow reserve… and that’s if she could squeeze into her old bras. She start lifting her shirt up as she sat in bed; whatever she did, making sure her parents didn't catch wind of her new boobs until she could get rid of them was among her top priorities. The old bras just had to work-

“Good morning, sweetheart-”

Wendy froze in place, her shirt already over her head and obscuring her vision of her mother who, from the unlocked doorway, must now be staring at the newly-grown rack on her precious only daughter. Wendy’s shirt came right back down as the red-faced teen stammered noises at her mom in a futile attempt to explain the mysteriously swift boob job, but no intelligible words arose… nothing to join her trembling gaze as she tried to read her mother’s confused expression.

Garnet Peppernickel was the obvious source for most of Wendy’s characteristics, topped off with a bit more weight gain and breasts that dwarfed Wendy’s own until a few minutes ago. Both Peppernickel women had the same eyesight and hair woes, and Mrs. Peppernickel was a few shades darker, but otherwise the fruit fell quite close to the tree. Wendy waited for the token narrowing of her eyes and a worried speech, the usual symptoms of her mother’s disapproval… and they came in full **** when faced with her newly stacked, near-hairless daughter—

“You didn’t push the trash out to the curb, Peppercorn,” her mother chastised, “and the garbage man will be here any minute! Now get dressed and move it fast, your father’s sleeping in today.”

The door closed as Mrs. Peppernickel went on to more pressing tasks… and Wendy just stared, dumbfounded, as she continued to pin her shirt to her lap. She... she didn't notice. That would be impossible, given the change... that is, unless they wanted no one to notice. Determined to question her mom further, Wendy threw on some shorts with her t-shirt and grabbed her eyepatch, intent on slipping it on prior to tending to her chore. First she needed to see if her mother really didn't notice... but that line of questioning is erased once she opens the door and finds herself face to face with the other parent.

Charles Peppernickel, 42, was tall, chisel-chinned, and blonde. He's a wide-bodied mechanic and gruff-looking with his growing beard... but there was nothing gruff in his crystal-blue eyes as they fell on his daughter and her ruined face. He was never up this early, usually... and this rare face-to-face meeting made Wendy forget all about her new tits. “G... Good morn-”

His eyes flicked away from her face as he went down the hallway. “I'll take out the trash.” It was a muted statement, hardly an offer to help as much as it was a reason to avoid his daughter. Wendy just looked at her father's back and sullen march as he fled. She thought to say something... anything... but she just nodded, smiled, and politely withdrew, as she always did, back into her room to get ready for her mom to drive her to school.

I'll ask her in the car.

High School, 7:21 A.M.

Alright… so the experiment has rules. Or… the rules are part of the experiment. Wendy continued to mull the morning’s revelations over as she out of her mom's car… and shrugged uncomfortably as her breasts ached after her attempt at wearing her old bras had failed miserably. Never mind that the damn things couldn't even close behind her, the awful squeeze had left marks on her new flesh that stung like Hell! So for whatever reason, no one seems to notice my unusual growth... at least not my parents and none of the others out here so far... The sidewalk leading into the school was littered with students, some Wendy even vaguely recognized (none that would call her a friend), and no one batted an eye at her new look. Granted, she had found a workaround: the cream-and-navy uniform skirt and button-down shirt she usually wore was now joined by the school blazer, an uncomfortably warm accessory that nonetheless helped drape over--and hide--her nipples as they pressed uncomfortably against the fabric of her shirt.

It did seem like no one could recall her old state, and she felt confident that even giving everyone a "show" by removing her jacket would hardly earn a comment. Things were, for the most part, normal. Wendy was grateful for that much; whatever the experiments being run on her, it looked like the school day would run smoothly long enough for her to get rid of those remaining punishments, one by one, while she researched how to efficiently beat the Gem Ladies game until she completed the experiment.