Tomi, *sexy* lab assistant

Kekyll sat in silence, one finger rhythmically tapping the RAC as Tomi cheerfully typed something into the console with all the grace of a kitten chasing a laser pointer. She squinted at the screen, pushing her long bangs out of her eyes for the tenth time in a minute. Every few seconds, she’d bump her hip against the edge of the bench or mutter a tiny “oops” as she knocked over another pen.

She was perfect in function. But Kekyll wasn’t done yet.

Not quite.

He opened a final set of parameters. This time, the changes weren’t mental, weren’t perceptual, weren’t cultural. They were physical. Aesthetic. Surface-layer tweaks that wouldn’t interfere with her memories, intellect, or function—but would leave an unmistakable visual impact.

He began inputting new values with careful precision.

[PARAM: PHYSIOLOGICAL MORPHOLOGY ENHANCEMENT]
[TARGET: TOMI JEONG]
[BUST SIZE: DD]
[WAIST-TO-HIP RATIO: 0.62]
[POSTURE ADJUSTMENT: NATURALLY STRAIGHT / SHOULDERS BACK]
[EYEWEAR: CORRECTIVE GLASSES REQUIRED – THICK-FRAMED, SLIGHTLY SLIPPED]
[ADDITIONAL MODIFIERS: UNINTENTIONAL CLEAVAGE EXPOSURE FREQUENCY – HIGH / SELF-AWARENESS – LOW]
[TALENT: DRUMMING – PROFICIENT (HOBBYIST TIER)]
[STATUS: PENDING]

He hesitated, thumb hovering once more.

Then: Activate.

The flicker came like a sigh this time, soft and slow, and Tomi paused mid-sentence, blinking hard. “Whoa. Little dizzy,” she murmured.

Kekyll leaned forward slightly.

It started at the shoulders—her hoodie, slightly oversized before, now pulled snug across a suddenly fuller chest. The front zipped halfway, but as her bust swelled, the fabric bowed, the zipper catching just below the midpoint. A soft bounce settled her new proportions into place. Two distinct, rounded mounds now filled the once-loose garment, held in check by a black lace bra with faint pink trim—details her perception accepted as entirely ordinary.

She tugged at the zipper absently but didn’t bother fixing it. The neckline dropped just a few inches lower than decency might suggest—enough to offer Kekyll an unobstructed view of her cleavage every time she leaned forward, which she did often.

Next, her waist—slimming subtly, ribs narrowing as her torso curved inward. The hourglass took shape gently, but definitively. Her hips flared next, rounding with a slow, liquid grace as her shorts adjusted—beltline stretching, seams shifting, denim molding to new curves with organic precision. Her thighs thickened just enough to suggest strength behind softness, legs now planted with a quiet, poised confidence.

Her stance shifted too: unconsciously balanced on one hip, knees turned in slightly, posture straightened by the natural rebalancing of her new figure.

Then came the glasses.

They blinked into existence atop her nose, matte black frames slightly too big, resting just low enough that she had to peer through them with her lashes. She wrinkled her nose once, trying to nudge them up with the side of her thumb, then immediately forgot about them.

“Gotta tighten these,” she muttered to no one.

Kekyll couldn’t look away. She was still Tomi—sweet, easily distracted, unbothered by her own appearance. But now, when she bent forward to adjust a cable or leaned over to jot down a note, the view offered by her open hoodie was unavoidable. And she never noticed. Or if she did, she thought nothing of it.

“Dr. K?” she asked suddenly, turning with her usual grin. “I was thinking… if I brought in my electronic kit, could I test soundwave displacement with that new field resonance model you’re building? I think it’d be so cool to see the beat visuals react in real time.”

“You… play?” he asked, voice dry.

“Drums, yeah! It’s not a big deal. Just garage stuff, but I can do, like, sick polyrhythms.” She mimed a little snare fill against the lab bench with surprising precision. Her bust jiggled with the motion—not that she noticed. “Wanna see my sticks? I think I left them in my bag.”

Kekyll exhaled slowly, the RAC cooling in his hand.

“Tomi,” he said softly, almost reverently, “you are a miracle.”

She smiled and cocked her head, glasses slipping again. “Aw, thanks, Doc. That’s sweet. Want some gum?” She offered him a piece, unaware that her cleavage had once again become the centerpiece of the moment.

Kekyll merely smiled.

He was done—at least for now.