Disbelief Dispelling(Cecilia)

Cecilia shirked off her jacket as she collapsed onto the lounge’s coach; glancing at the book that caused her phone to short like that, hanging in her dangling hand off the coach side; back to where her life spiraled into the present. Plastering her face was regret, for her reckless abandon. While both interactions—present and past—had stupid results, it had more to do with how little she gave thought to what could happen. Always there was the assurance that life would eventually get on it’s tracks and it didn’t matter which path as long as it was forward. While she now has her dream job, now she was stuck with a virus infected phone.

Maybe her dream job wasn’t what she wanted. That thought permeated her mind like a chronic depressive. Though it might’ve been a symptom, her days continued to wear her down, thoughts of ‘maybes’, ‘if onlys’, and ‘perhaps’ were a daily occurrence. Last time it was how mundane her day was that made her feel empty inside. This time it was a college student who turned her into a scowling bitch. A feeling of freedom she missed was seen inside the nerd ‘She’s probably stacked with an even higher debt.’ Cecilia snarked, shifting on the coach. Attempting to get away from the topic her eyes drifted back down to herself. For a split-second, Cecily attempted to think back to her hobbies. Quickly, the QR code book dropped as fast as that thought. Her body jolted upwards off the coach, only for Cecilia’s unsteady feet to send her tumbling back into the cushions. Looking downwards, she could only watch as her pants shrunk upwards, slowly bunching together as they formed a tight fitting pencil skirt. Her shoes shifted from flats as they grew wedges, turning a red shade. The blouse she had on started to unbutton itself as the bra underneath started to push her b-cups higher. Her glass rims got a cat-eye style to them.

Via patience or shock, Cecilia bit into her tongue as the changes seemed to go through the final motions. Her mouth felt as if it was missing something. There was a craving that the conservative lady could not articulate. Her throat wasn’t dry but it certainly thirsted for something. Increasingly it gained more attention as the empty feeling intensified. Desperation consuming her, Cecily jammed her thumb straight into her lips, hoping that it would satiate the problem. Giving it a suck sent dopamine pumping through her mind, so much that she couldn’t help repeating the action.

Slowly rising off the coach, Cecily took care to locate where she could find the nearest reflection. While she knew her clothes changed, there was a fog of disbelief calming her mind. ‘What sort of reality had clothes that could change fabrics and shapes?’ Scanning the room, nothing. No cameras, no mirrors, no reflective surfaces. Just piles and piles of books scattered around to sort through later. Sighing, Cecily couldn’t help but look downwards, even though her vision was obscured by the thumb’s fist she was fellating. Her blouse seemed to be missing three buttons, creating a decent cleavage of bare boob flesh. The boring bra underneath transformed into a white, lacey pushup that accentuated the cleavage to make it look slightly enticing. Beneath, the pencil skirt stopped mid-thigh, leaving a lot of skin bare between it and the now 2 inch red-wedge heels she sported.

Dissonance could be seen as a storm cloud, rumbling underneath Cecily’s consciousness. All she thought that the clothes could be hidden. They made her look slightly like a tart, but she could cover the blouse with her jacket. Picking up the untouched jacket with one hand, the one still in her mouth prepared itself. With a pop, the thumb retreated, and her mind started to collapse from it’s happiness. A headache of emptiness quickly replaced the dopamine pulse, slowly consuming her mood as she fiddled with the buttons of her jacket. Adjusting the sleeves, Cecily gave in, rummaged through one of the pockets and withdrew a sharpie. Inserting it into her mouth, all of the frail feelings disappeared as if it was a cigarette of concentrated crack.

Joyfully suckling onto the sharpie, her eyes watched as the rims of her glasses changed to a pink plastic as the glasses grew in size. In a moment, the rims went from framing her sightline, to Cecily needing to look upwards to see the top line. After noticing her eye level shrinking, her eyes flashed downwards. This time, the clothes seemed to have already been done transforming: Her jacket shrank in size until there was no feasible way the—now red—jacket could close together. Essentially, it was there to accentuate the plunging neckline of the sheer easter-pink blouse. Instead of three buttons missing, there were only three buttons left, and her white pushup bra was now as clear as day. Her pencil skirt was now a pencil mini that would rise up to showcase some white lace if Cecily even chose to bend. Apparently she now had on matching lace stockings that went down to her new four inch fire-engine red stilettos.

Cecily shrieked.

Note: Let me know if there's any improvements needed on this one. More or less just typed it without much revision this time since I've been procrastinating.