PGAD
11.
What the hell did I do?
That was the thought that had reverberated through Sara’s brain for the remainder of the weekend.
She’d awoken late Saturday afternoon, still in the evening dress, tangled about her incredible body, with a hangover headache that threatened to split her skull open. She had only the tiniest fragments of any memory of driving home, which she’d foolishly done despite already having thought of the considerable risks.
What the hell did I do?
It was the first thought that had passed through her mind as soon as the fierce pounding in her head had subsided enough for coherent thought. As her recollection of the evening—as much as she had of it at any rate—came trickling back, the thought held an increasing level of horror and self-loathing; but the hangover and fatigue kept her from thinking too hard about it and Sara had spent the next few hours groggily dozing.
Later Saturday evening, after she’d showered and re-hydrated, dressed only in panties and an oversized t-shirt, having napped away most of the hangover, she’d re-played the moments in her head again—only now that she wasn’t exhausted and hungover, and nearly a whole day had passed since she’d had any sexual relief, that ever-present arousal began to intrude once more, coloring her memories.
What the hell did I do?
It was subtle at first; Sara felt terribly about what she’d done, but perhaps just a little less hard on herself. It was a total travesty, but she’d had way more to drink than she ought to have, and wasn’t able to control her arousal as she undoubtedly would have otherwise done.
Was that really a valid excuse though? To go around and screw two strangers, back to back like that? Like a completely depraved nymphomaniac? She hadn’t noticed when she started to rub herself lightly, thinking of getting used, again and again. Of the way those two guys had wanted to have a threesome with her. Of what it would be like, getting used from both ends.
She’d let out a somewhat depressed and frustrated sigh when she realized what she was doing. Already the arousal was consuming her mind, clouding her judgment. She knew she was acting like a perverted slut, but it excited her to think that, even as she knew how shameful that was. It was wrong, all wrong, getting turned on by the recollection of the way she’d debased herself. But she was panting loudly by then, rubbing herself hard.
When she’d pulled her panties down the length of her long, sexy legs, kicking them off, sliding two fingers inside of herself, and sticky semen had come leaking out, more than one man’s, she’d thought it again, but this time, it was with a prurient, lascivious pleasure, a dark and naughty re-envisioning of the night’s depravity…
What the hell did I do?
And Sunday morning had been more of the same. She’d woken up horny, feeling up her fantastic body in the luxurious sheets of her expansive bed, totally free in the privacy of her own home. She’d moaned loudly, exploring every inch of her fit, altered self, finding all the ways it could bring her pleasure, far beyond what her regular body was capable of doing for her…
But by Sunday afternoon, she was sexually satisfied, and clear-headed once more. The pendulum had come swinging back, the same thought once again holding nothing but abject shame.
What the hell did I do?
The only comfort Sara had was that now it was time. Time to put this whole crazy weekend behind her. The nanites in her body had had as long as Chris the lab tech had said they would need to recharge. Now, she could change back to herself, and get halfway out of this hole she’d found herself in. Once she was back to her normal self, she only needed to find some way to get that Libido setting back where it belonged, and this whole nightmare would be over.
She wouldn’t think about it again. The way she’d given into her animal urges, over and over. The way she’d captivated every man that laid eyes on her, as alluring as a bitch in heat emitting pheromones. The way that she’d taken control, with a confidence in the bedroom that she’d never before possessed, doing whatever she wanted, whatever made her feel good, with no self consciousness or reservations…
Sara didn’t get around to picking the tablet up again until later that evening.
It’s time.
The tablet was loaded back to the ‘Me’ profile. Sara’s finger was poised over the ‘Apply’ button, just as it had been for the last ten minutes.
It’s time.
You HAVE to do it.
Sara knew she did. She had work tomorrow. She was aware that it was rather ludicrous that this was her first concern in spite of everything that was going on, but her career was just too firmly ingrained in her identity to stop thinking about or prioritizing. There was simply no way she was missing yet another day.
That was not even taking into account her actual, physical identity. This young, tall, skinny, blonde, busty sex-bomb was not who Sara was. Sara was… herself. Middle aged, heavy-set, unremarkable. As fun as it had been, the ambivalently regrettable actions notwithstanding, it was enough—this had gone on long enough. She was flirting with seriously dangerous and risky things, had gone far further than she ever should have. It was time to undo as much damage as possible.
Sara gave a sigh of regret, finger still hovering. It had been enjoyable to be someone else, someone immensely attractive, for a little while. She wondered what it was going to feel like to go back to her old self, the nanites working to make her older, uglier, shorter, fatter… It would probably feel like overeating at a fried food buffet ten times over.
This is just who you are, she told herself again. Deal with it. But just before Sara hit the button, she abruptly scrolled back up and changed her weight, taking off thirty-five pounds, as she’d done before. It was enough that she could see the difference and feel better about herself, but not so much that anyone else would notice. Having done that, she felt slightly mollified and hit Apply.
Chris had been right. Rather than any error message popping up, the nanites, refreshed and recharged, went right to work, the sensation coming over Sara immediately.
“Huhhhhnnnn!”
There was the cracking and jerking as her very bones and frame changed, going from tall and lithe to average, and slightly square. She let out a choked grunt, as she went down to her knees, feeling herself being reformed. Her skin and scalp tingled as the pallor returned, and her hair receded in length, becoming dark, lanky and dull in the process.
And then there came the worst of it. As her transformation had previously been unpainful and even pleasurable in some ways, this reversion was equally unpainful, yet diametrically unpleasant. She could feel her body aging, slowing down, the strong, vibrant muscles within atrophying, sagging and shrinking to their formerly unmaintained levels. Her bust shrank and shrank, while she expanded all over, in all the wrong places, her thighs and belly and arms and face, and it felt just as she’d imagined it would, like experiencing a lifetime of unhealthy overindulgence all at once.
Then, it was finally over.
Sara waited a few moments to make sure the reversion was totally complete before she slowly got to her feet, heavily. It felt like she had large stones strapped to her, or as though gravity had suddenly increased ten fold.
She went to the bathroom mirror and let out a deep sigh when she saw her old familiar self looking back at her. She thought she’d be relieved, but she merely felt extremely depressed, even though she actually was significantly lighter than when any of this had begun.
Sara shut the light off, trodding to the bed, and climbed in, the mattress creaking loudly. With one last sigh, she fell into a deep slumber.