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I guess there was no way to know that I wasn’t a normal girl.

You see, I didn’t have a ton of interaction with people outside my family growing up. My mom, little sister Kellie and twin brother and sister Andrew and Hannah lived in a small farming town in Iowa. I know it doesn’t sound like a hell of a lot of fun, but again, I didn’t know much better. We lived in Chicago for the first few years of my life. My dad was a CEO of a large company and worked long, stressful days. He died when I was 5, shortly after the twins were born, of a sudden heart attack. I remember being confused as to where he went, and Mom being really sad and a lot of friends and relatives coming over, but other than that, not much. Soon afterwards, my mom moved to Iowa and bought the farm.

She homeschooled all 4 of her kids, since the one decent primary school in town was a Christian school and required regular attendance at church. We never went to church, so it was never an option. I never really asked why. So we were home schooled. In the winter, Mom put us through 12-hour school days so that in the spring and summer, we could focus more on tending the crops and studying independently. I never minded the system, but once I got to be older, I found it monotonous. I didn’t remember much about Chicago but I remember there were a lot more people around.

It was a hot day in July when I was helping Mom harvest the corn crop, and she surprised me.

“Samantha, how would you like to go to a real school?”

This caught me off guard. I HAD been thinking about it, but I never considered it to be a real possibility.

“Where?” I asked. There weren’t any high schools within a 45 minute drive, and Mom had the farm to take care of, not to mention a 13-year-old daughter and two 12-year olds.

“There’s a boarding school in Chicago called Rogers Prep. Your father went there. It just went co-ed a few years ago, so I’d think there are quite a few girls that go there now.”

This idea scared me. Going to Rogers would mean leaving the one place that I really ever knew. I wanted to go to a real school, but this would be a big step. On the other hand, it would be great to be in a place with people my age. Despite being only a year or two older, I did a lot of the work taking care of my younger siblings to help out Mom, so a lot of the time I had to be the bad guy to them. A lot of the time, it felt like me and Mom vs. my siblings.

“What would you do, Mom? Don’t you need help taking care of things around here?”

“Don’t worry about that. They’re all old enough to take some responsibility for themselves. I imagine they’ll all be at Rogers in a year or two anyways, and once that happens I’ll probably sell the farm and get a smaller place I can handle by myself.”
So just before my 15th birthday, Mom and I were making the 5 hour drive to Chicago to meet the dean at Rogers, and if he accepted me, I’d start school the next week. Normally I’d have to take an entrance exam, but I guess the dean was an old friend of Dad’s, and agreed to let me in as long as I demonstrated the knowledge that was needed to succeed at Rogers.

We arrived on campus and it was beyond anything I imagined. The city was so lively; I saw more people in the first 10 seconds than I had my entire life in Iowa. The grass was green, the autumn flowers were blooming, and there were students everywhere. Walking from the car to the dean’s office, I couldn’t help but stare at some of them. Tall, muscular boys, short, skinny girls, some white, some black, some with dark hair, some with blonde hair, one or two with red hair.

We arrived at the dean’s office and were greeted by a 20-something, gorgeous woman. She gave me a toothy smile and her lips moved, but I wasn’t listening. My eyes moved from her hair to her full cheeks to her pouty lips, down to her blouse that showed just a small bit of cleavage. Her boobs weren’t huge, but they were significantly larger than mine, and just had some kind of life to them.

“Samantha?” I heard Mom say.

“Oh, um, sorry?”

“The receptionist smiled again. “I asked if you need anything before your interview? Dean Matthews will be ready for you in 10 minutes or so.”

“Oh, actually, could I just use the restroom? It’s been a long drive.”

“Sure thing, it’s down the hall on your left.”

I nodded and went down the hall to the bathroom. I had a funny feeling in my belly that I’d never felt before. I decided to splash some water in my face to compose myself. I took a look in the mirror. I by no means was bad looking, but I couldn’t compare to the receptionist out front. My hair was naturally straight, halfway down my back and dark brown, almost black. I stood about 5’3”. My tits were an A-cup. I never really cared about their size until I saw the receptionist outside. I didn’t want giant boobs, I just hoped they’d fill out a little bit more. I was toned due to all the farm work i’d done over the years. I especially liked my legs; they looked and felt strong and powerful.

I stared in the mirror, trying to fix my hair. I didn’t love my hair, it was sort of dull. Most of the time I didn’t care, but I didn’t want to look dull in an interview. There wasn’t much I could do about it. I sat down to use the bathroom. I found myself wishing I had red hair like the receptionist. How much more interesting I’d be. I was otherwise average looking, but some interesting hair would make me feel a little bit better about myself.

Realizing I’d been in here about 10 minutes, I quickly washed my hands and returned to the front desk. A man in his 50s wearing a brown suit was already there, chatting with Mom. I guess they must have met once or twice when Dad was still alive.

“Ah, you must be Samantha! I haven’t seen you since you were just a baby. How are you? I’m excited you decided to join us here at Rogers. I’m sure you’ll fit in nicely. Come in, come in, we’ll have a little chat.” He said it all very fast.

“Alright, great, nice to meet you too, sir.” I followed him into his office. On the way in, I caught my mom’s eye. She had one eyebrow raised and was smirking. I didn't have time to ask what was going on.

The interview itself was not much of an interview. Dean Matthews did most of the talking himself. I smiled and nodded and said a word here or there, but after about 20 minutes, he told me that I’d be a welcome addition to the school and that he’d already set up boarding arrangements for me.

“You’ll have a room by yourself, most of the freshmen live with roommates but your mother tells me you are already adept at algebra, geometry, biology, and writing, so she asked that we accelerate your schooling a bit. You’ll essentially be starting as a Sophomore, and no one has roommates here after Freshman year.”

This was kind of a relief, I wanted to meet people but the idea of sharing every intimate detail of my life with a complete and random stranger was a bit unnerving. I smiled and accepted, and he sent me on my way.

“Go to Holmes Hall and talk to the Housemaster there. He’ll show you to your room.” He smiled and opened the door to his office. “Good luck. I know you’ll love it here”.

I was smiling as I left the office with Mom. We walked over to Holmes as I told my mom everything about the interview. Once we arrived, the Housemaster showed me to my room, unlocked the door, and handed me the key. “This is you, feel free to let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Mom and I entered the room and looked around. It was a fairly big dorm room , with two windows and a double bed in the corner, a desk against the wall, and a large dresser. On the desk sat a brand new laptop laser-etched with my name below the logo.

“Oooh, cool!” I nearly screamed. The only computer I’d ever known must have been built in 1998. We never needed anything newer, and I never experienced anything faster than dialup internet.

“All incoming students get one.” My mom smiled. “Nice hair, by the way.”

I turned to my mother, “Oh no, is something wrong with it?”
“Well, it’s red. About the same color as the young lady you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of earlier.”

I didn’t really understand. I walked over to the mirror over the dresser and my jaw dropped. My hair, normally a deep brown, was a shocking shade of red. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “What?? Oh my god, how did this happen?”

My mom just smiled. “Samantha, I was going to have this talk to with you today, but you seem to have beat me to the punch.”

I was confused. “What? What talk? What are you talking about?”

“Sam, this is going to seem absurd to you, but I’m 100% serious here. She sat me down on the bed. You and I and your brother and sisters are not normal human beings. In fact, we’re not human beings at all.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Did my Mom just tell me that neither of us are human?

“We are an organism from a faraway solar system. My grandmother and a few dozen others were sent here to inhabit this planet, and, within a few hundred years, the majority of the Earth will be our kind. Our job is to spread the race.”

This did not exactly register to me. I sat there with a dumb look on my face, half expecting Mom to yell “psych!” at any moment. She didn’t, but instead, she continued.

“Like I said, I was going to tell you today, but it seems you beat me to it. In case you haven’t realized, we have the ability to change our appearance at will. This gives us an obvious evolutionary advantage, since it’ll be easier to find compatible mates.”

I still could not believe her. “If you can change your appearance, why haven’t I been able to my whole life? Why do you look the same?”

“Well,” she said, “you don’t get the ability until you’re ready to reproduce. But I don’t want you worrying about that yet. You’re here to get an education. As for me, well, I kept the same basic appearance to keep everything under wraps, but let me ask you, do I look like a 50-year old woman?”

I could not say that she did, in fact, she didn’t look a day over 29. Her skin was smooth, her boobs were firm, and her hair was as black as always. “I guess not,” I conceded.

“It’s because I have control over my appearance. I’ll look this way until it’s no longer believable that I’m actually 50. Even then, living on a farm with no steady visitors lets me look as young as I want.” She smiled. “You’re still skeptical. Tell me, what else do you wish you could change about yourself?”

I thought about this. “Well, I wish my boobs were a bit bigger.”

“Of course you do. Our kind don’t develop fully after puberty. That way we can choose what we look like without alarming people. I’m actually surprised you haven’t changed those yet.” She laughed to herself.” Try picturing yourself with bigger boobs, then.”

I did. Instantly, I felt my chest growing outward. The clasp of my bra snapped off and my tits filled my shirt, straining against the fabric. I gasped.

“Whoa now,” my mom laughed. “Don’t go too crazy! You’re not going to be able to keep the boys away.”

I imagined myself with my normal A-cups and watched as they deflated back to normal. “Still don’t believe?” my mom asked.

“I guess I do... this is all insane. Wow” I kept pinching myself, figuring this was a dream.

“Now Sam, this is obviously a very powerful ability. But there are rules. Number one, you must keep this a secret.. This means no changing in front of them. The last thing we want is for you to be whisked away to some government lab for study. The second thing is, don’t change into the form of another known person, particularly if this human is in the area or a celebrity. We don’t want people accidentally seeing double visions of themselves or thinking they saw Lindsay Lohan when they really didn’t, because thats when suspicions arise. Third, and most importantly, you must stay relatively the same form whenever you’re doing day-to-day activities around people who see you often. That means you can’t show up to class as a 6’2, black girl one day and a 4’11 Asian girl the next. Does that make sense?”

I nodded, still refusing to believe what I was hearing.

“So your first task is to find a form you like. This will be your regular form, that you’ll wear most of the time. You can get taller or shorter or grow your boobs and such slowly and over time, but make it seem natural. The next step is to learn to be comfortable in that form. After that, you can change your size, height, hair color, skin color, you name it.”

“And this is all so I can have babies? That’s the purpose of my life?”

“Oh, no, of course not.” Mom said. You can live your life relatively normally. You can have fun changing your form. But I don’t want you to worry about reproduction let. If you do find yourself in that situation, just know that you won’t get pregnant unless you absolutely, positively want to, deep down. You can practice finding mates, but I think reproduction can wait, don’t you?”

“Agreed,” I said. I guess this was my form of the sex talk; I never got a proper one on my farm in Iowa.

“It’s running late, let’s get your things so I can get back,” Mom said, smiling at me.

Once Mom left and I organized everything, I collapsed back on the bed. What a day! I fully expected to wake up in my bed in Iowa tomorrow to find I had a horrible fever or something. I dozed off, and after an hour or so woke up, still at Rogers. I decided to go down to the mess hall to get some dinner; I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I nearly forgot I’d need to decide on a form before I mingled with other people at the school. Such a high-pressure choice! I figured three people had already seen me; two of them I’d certainly see again, so I couldn’t change myself too much. I decided to go with chestnut hair, just below my shoulders, and full B-cup tits. I liked the size, they fit in my hands when I cupped them and they weren’t noticeably bigger than my real tits. I figured I looked approachable yet very attractive. I was happy with my new body but I wanted to try some new things. I pictured myself with big, firm D-cup tits. Sure enough, my jest grew outward. I caught myself this time and pulled my blouse off.I wasn’t expecting the weight difference and it surprised me. I stood there with my D-cups pressing against my A-cup bra which was open in the back from when I busted it earlier. The bra concealed my nipples but not much else. I removed the bra. My nipples were still dime-sized, so I imagined quarter-sized nipples on myself and sure enough they appeared. I tugged at one of them, sending a shiver down my spine.

I decided to keep going farther with this. I stripped completely naked, knowing my plan would ruin whatever clothes I had on. I imagined a supermodel I had seen, with an hourglass figure, dirty blonde hair, a perky butt, and huge tits. She must have been almost 6 feet, with long, strong legs. I imagined myself becoming her, or something like that. The sudden changes happening in my body sent me stumbling back toward my bed. I was growing about an inch a second, my tits were inflating yet again, and I could feel my butt growing. Once it stopped, I clumsily stood up and walked to the mirror. I was indeed about 6 inches taller, and was a complete bombshell. I couldn’t stop staring at my “self” in the mirror. I explored my tits, fingering at my nipples, which sent a surge of electricity down to my pussy, which still had a thin triangle of hair above it. I found my hand sliding down to it and touching it, and feeling a wetness. My finger slid past my clit and I shuddered. I was staring at myself, admiring my beauty. I found that spot again, and i realized that this was where I should focus. Without moving from the mirror, I watched this supermodel figure in the mirror playing with herself. I slid a finger from my left hand to my opening and inserted a long finger as I continued to tease my clit. I moaned loudly. This was AMAZING! Finally, after a few minutes of increasingly faster teasing and fingering, I felt a crash of pleasure hit me. I screamed, my knees gave out, and i fell to the floor, still going at it with myself. Just as the pleasure subsided I heard a knock on the door.

“Hello? Is everything alright in there?” a male voice called. Panicking, I changed myself back to the 5’3, auburn haired, B-cup form I created for myself earlier and grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. I opened the door slightly to see a short but muscular 17-year old boy.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you but I heard screams from this room and I thought it was empty. I’m Mark by the way. “ He reached out to shake my hand. “Samantha” I said. I shook his hand, but didn’t realize my juices were still all over it until it was too late. He didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll leave you to it, but let me know if you want me to show you around sometime,” Mark smiled.” I’m just across the hall.”

“Alright,” I said, just anxious to get out of this horribly awkward situation. “See you around”. I closed the door and looked through the peep hole at him walking back to his room. I saw him sniff his own hand and look back at the door. He smiled and entered his room.
4 comments

anonymous readerReport

2013-03-18 15:20:50
great story i would have more

anonymous readerReport

2013-03-16 16:41:47
Doesn't fat itself pootrme a poor estrogen/testosterone ratio? I doubt insulin resistance helps much either. Losing fat is an obvious first step before you start messing with surgery or hormonal treatments. It sounds simple, and with the likes of HIIT, resistance training and a nutritious diet, maybe it is. How many people are going to get access to the right information though, and how many are going to attempt a hopeless low-fat, low-protein, low-calorie diet and jog endlessly?As for food sources of estrogen, a fact sheet I saw before showed a glass of milk didn't even contain a 100th of a percent of what a man produces in a day, but a tbs of soy oil has about 20%.

anonymous readerReport

2012-09-30 13:00:56
nice progression to the story.....you didn't rush it.i would definitely like to see you continue this.it has an excellent premise that will allow you a lot of flexibility with story lines.i do have one question....does her ability to change appearance include gender?

anonymous readerReport

2012-09-30 03:40:18
This was a good story. I would like to hear a part two. Maybe?

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