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I’m not sure how my life got so…confusing! I’m on my way to becoming a super-model—but as a girl! A WunderGirl!

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WunderGirl

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

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~ Day 39 ~
 

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* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I groan, as I rub in my body lotion.

I’m nine days into my “body-enhancing” protocol, and my breast area is really sore…and sensitive! I had no idea what I was committing to.

I just feel so…different. It’s not that I feel…bad…. Just…different…. Well, to be honest, it almost feels…kind of…good…. It’s hard to explain.

Anyway…in addition to the…new feelings…now, I actually need the deodorant that I have been using, for a while now. Not just for the tingling effect, but because I’ll take “lilacs” over my now “natural” smell, any day! Ewwwww!

Momma privately sat me down…after we got home on the day that I consented to all of this…and reiterated that my agreement means that I’m now fully developing…as a girl. She reinforced, that I’ll grow breasts…and develop female curves. Like she has…and in the same way that Gemma is currently developing. She also pointed out, just so that I’m clear, that it means that I won’t develop like Daddy, or Chad, while on the products. She also agreed that…it’s a good thing for our contract… And she stressed that I can’t back out, anymore…now that the contract is signed.

I shake my head. Yes, I agreed to it all…and mostly understood it…at the time. Mostly…. But now, it’s starting to fully sink in…. I’m allowing myself to be turned into a girl…a girly-girl, at that. And I’m still not sure how I feel about it. The funny thing is…that I’m not…disgusted…or mad….

I sigh. Momma promised that she would work it out, with Daddy…when things start to become…visible. I guess that won’t be too much longer, now...based on what Ginny was saying. I won’t be able to hide my new “assets,” after a few more weeks…tops. Momma also said, she would talk to my school, since this all means…that I will be in full “development,” by the time I start back…this fall. That’s just a few weeks away….

I shudder. I’m not sure how my life got so…confusing! I’m on my way to becoming a super-model—but as a girl! A WunderGirl! I’m not a “girl.” I know consciously know that. I’ve never had any intention of being a girl. Yet, I completely volunteered for this…in order to continue having access to some stupid plant extracts. Because I like the feeling they give me. Does that make me an addict? Maybe…. I don’t really know…. I mean, I don’t think so. I know I don’t crave them. I just like them. And Ginny promised me that there are no illegal drugs, in the products—and I believe her. They’re made of all-natural plant extracts.

So, that just reinforces that I want—not need—this, deep down…right? Maybe…I’ve been wrong about myself. Does this mean, that, somehow, in the deepest depths of my heart, I really want to be a girl? I shake my head. It’s just so confusing. I sigh. I know…well…I think…I don’t want to be a girl, but then why else would I do this?

So far, “being” a girl hasn’t been…so bad…. Once you get used to all the…girly…stuff…it’s pretty…normal. I don’t even really notice the makeup, anymore. To be honest…I sort of feel…naked…without it! And I don’t hate the heels and dresses…anywhere nearly as much, as when I started. The dresses can even feel…really nice…especially with hose….

I sigh and finish my morning routine. Then put on my panties and my bra. I shake my head, as I do this new thing that they now have me doing…called “tucking.” To be honest, there’s not much down there, to “tuck.” Actually, there never has been. Even so, it’s still a little uncomfortable…but I’m getting more used to it…like everything else. But this…well…it’s still…really bizarre! It’s one of the things that forcefully reminds me that I’m not a girl…that I’m just pretending to be one! Although, it doesn’t feel as much like pretending…the more I do it.

After I get things situated down below, I insert the silicone breast forms, into my bra. At first, they—especially Dharma—wanted to glue them on. I shudder at the thought. But when Ginny explained that I was using the special products…to actually grow breasts, Dharma reluctantly relented. I mean, can you imagine having to put up with these things stuck to me, day in, and day out? The main thing that saved me was, that having them “removable, made it easier for Ginny to get her measurements. Otherwise, I would be screwed…er glued….

It doesn’t really matter—glued or not—the jiggly breast forms still feel utterly strange. They sway…and bob…every which way…like they have a mind of their own! And they completely throw me off my balance, with their weight! With them inserted, I’m whatever a “20-C” is—it gives me plenty of, what Dharma raves is, “cleavage.” I guess, they think that “size” is somewhere around where they suppose I will “grow”. Although, they did also say, with Momma’s genes, I could wind up a “D-cup”…or likely even more. Again…whatever that means….

Dharma tried to explain it all to me…. Something about the circumference of my breasts, minus the circumference of my chest…. Then she went into some sort of calculus…. Was there something about multiplying it by the gravity of the moon? I can’t remember…I zoned out! I hate math, so who cares!

I finish getting dressed…and ready for my daily “girly” lessons, with Joyce and Dharma.

I’ve almost forgotten how to be just plain “Sam.” I’m now expected by all at WG…to always be “Samantha.” It’s like Sam, no longer exists! The funny thing is…that really is bothering me less and less. Being Samantha isn’t that bad. Samantha has it a lot better than Sam ever did…for the most part.

The really hard part is, through all of this, Daddy still won’t talk to me. I miss him—I really do love him! But…I get that is weird for him. It’s weird for me, too! I fight the tears at the thought.

I shake my head—those seem to come really easily, anymore.

And then…he’s mad at Gemma and me for making a comment about how the house stinks…. I still can’t believe that Momma didn’t notice it. Anyway, that led to it coming out that he had been smoking cigars. Ewwwww! Of course…that led to it coming out the Momma had started back smoking cigarettes. Double Ewwwww! There was a big fight…and both Momma and Daddy just huffed that they would do what they want…. Now, the house smells like smoke all the time…even though they both only smoke outside. Triple Ewwwww! Chad is the only one that thinks it’s “cool.” It’s just gross!!!

 

* * * * *
Garry
* * * * *
 

I think I’m turning into an alcoholic!

I can’t talk to my “son,” anymore—whenever I see “him,” all I can do, is think about chugging another beer. I don’t know how to relate to “him.” I’ve always had a harder time with him, than Chad. Sam’s never been the manliest kid, on Earth. But he never seemed to be…a sissy. Not…until this whole farce began! That damned contract!

I’ve talked to Roger a few more times about it, and he’s adamant that I have no recourse! He just keeps saying that the contract is iron-clad—and reminding me that I signed it. He just keeps telling me to “man up,” and learn my lesson on contracts…for the future.

That’s not really funny, since I’m a car salesman. Contracts are my life! So, how did I mess up, so badly…and ruin Sam’s?

What I completely can’t fathom, is that Julia seems OK with the path he’s taking. No—it’s more than that! She seems to be encouraging it! She’s always correcting things that he doesn’t do right…as a girl. And right now, there aren’t a whole lot of things left…that he does, that are even remotely boy-like. He’s more of a girly-girl than Gemma. And I thought she was going to set a world record, in that department!

I groan. My son no longer looks like a fruit…he looks like my daughter. And a gorgeous one at that. And worse, he seems to be…OK with it. At times…I think he even likes…no, I’m pretty sure that he wants it!

And I just can’t process that!

Hence the beer! I sigh. Maybe I should move on to whiskey! It goes better with cigars, anyway! And now that Julia knows…there’s no reason not to enjoy them…and a good whiskey, alongside.

 

* * * * *
Gemma
* * * * *
 

I eke out the last bit of body wash from the bottle…and vigorously scrub my body with it. I guess there’s just not enough left, to give me a real tingle…no matter how hard I scrub. I’ve been rationing it, over the last couple of days, and I’ve been getting less and less tingly…with each use. Even the shampoo and conditioner don’t help, as much. So…I don’t know…maybe, that’s not the problem. But then…what is? It’s sooo frustrating!

Then, on top of that, I’m also down to my last few pieces of gum. I think Sam may be getting suspicious that something is not right…with the rate of…her usage. I mentally shrug…Sam’s a girl… There’s just no doubt about that…. Anyway, she’s always chewing some sort of gum…well…almost all the time. It’s just not always the good stuff. She doesn’t seem to care, as much…whether it’s that kind, or not. As long as she can chew…something…!

She doesn’t care! Not like I do! So…maybe, I can slip some generic stuff into her stash. I don’t think she would notice…or care! She’s fine with any old gum…as long as she can chew something…anything! I’ll have to try it! I need my gum!

I rinse the suds off, and sigh. How am I going to get my tingle, now?

 

* * * * *
Dharma
* * * * *
 

I watch Samantha cross the room…and smile.

She’s come a long way, in terms of her mannerisms, over these last couple of days. Not that there hasn’t been an army of women drilling proper deportment into her! She still has some work to do on her speech. And she’s still not nearly perfect, on her mannerisms. But she’s…somewhere between “tomboy” and “sophisticated lady.” I smile. At least, she’s no longer a “blundering boy, in a dress.” She can pass, now…just not at WunderGirl level, yet.

I’ve also noticed her subconsciously fondling her breasts—and wincing, when she bumps them.

I confirmed with Ginny, that she’s actually taking the supplements to physically develop…and on an accelerated path. It’s so exciting! And, it’s also the only reason that I didn’t insist on gluing her breast forms to her chest…. According to Ginny, with the fast-acting products she’s on, she should be showing visible results, within a couple of weeks—instead of months! Of course, it will still take time for her to fully develop….

I watch her expertly walk across the room, in her four-inch stilettos…furiously chewing on her gum. She’s fully in the habit of chewing it, now…and is rarely without a piece in her mouth. It’s any kind—not just the special stuff Joyce started her out on. It gives her a cute, girly look. I like the way it gives her a…real…look. I know that she was adamant about not wanting to smoke…or vape. But…maybe we could amp up her gum…. I know Ronni’s is.

I sigh and correct one of her movements, then smile, as I glance at her beautiful hair. It’s now well below her shoulders…and absolutely stunning. As are her eyes….

I sigh again…deeply. If I were only twenty years younger! I would so be going after her!

 

* * * * *
Greta
* * * * *
 

I shake my head and wonder how to get out of this one!

Adam Ansel’s son, Gerome, noticed Samantha at the shoot the other day—and wants to ask her out. As…on a date.

I groan. This is a no-win situation! But it’s clear that Sam will have to pony up. Adam is too valuable of a customer. And it’s too good an opportunity for Sam to pass up, to be a “go-to” model, for Adam. Not to mention, how good it is for M&M!

I call Julia into the office, I need her to help me figure out the logistics. She’s not going to like this either, I’m afraid. But it’s Sam’s father that I’m most worried about.

As expected, she’s not happy about it…and goes into a full rant. “Greta! I know Sam has to do everything to be a model WunderGirl…and she’s much better at that, than I ever expected…. Too good…maybe….” She shakes her head. “But dating boys, is not in his…her contract!”

I sigh and agree. I know what she means about her being “too” good. I shake my head. “No, you’re right. It’s not, Julia. But we can’t afford to alienate Adam. And this is as good for your career, as Samantha’s! And, like you said…she’s taking to this, quite well. How do we know she won’t…like it?”

She shakes her head and has a disgusted look on her face. “Whatever Sam was…actually thinking, or feeling, when…she…agreed to…this…whatever…is one thing. But I’m not about to pimp out my son…or daughter…for the good of my career! I was OK with going along with him…her…attaining the assets she needs, for modeling—but I’m not OK with pushing her…him into a relationship. If it still is my son, it would be forcing him into a gay relationship. If it’s my daughter…it’s still against her will! She’s not a whore, for hire! And…then…either way…if she does go ahead…and Adam—or his son ever find out….” She shakes her head and shudders.

I look at her and shrug. “Well, Lissa will be talking to her about it. I suppose if she throws a fit, there isn’t anything we can do. But if Lissa can convince her, then I expect you to support that decision. Are we clear? And why would Gerome find out? It’s just a date, for Chrissake!”

She harumphs…but doesn’t otherwise argue.

 

* * * * *
Becky
* * * * *
 

I go through another training session with Sam. I have to admit he’s doing really well as a model. He easily responds to my directions and photographer’s needs. It’s wonderful, how he effortlessly works with me, to get the best shots.

If he were actually a girl, he could go far, in the modeling business—not that he couldn’t still. I’ve just never gotten the impression that he wants to live out his life, as a girl. That’s what has me confused and concerned!

He looks every bit a girl—there’s simply no “boy” left, that’s visible to the naked eye!

Lissa is up to something—I just know it! And that something is certainly not good.

The thing is, I’m not so sure that Sam has as much of a problem with it, as I originally thought… Maybe I was wrong, on that account. He…she seems to be…at ease with his…her…plight. Oh, he puts up a front of not liking it, but I think she actually likes doing things…as a girl. She certainly has taken to it pretty easily. At this pace, she could even do commercials and potentially acting. I think she has the aptitude for it.

I may be confused about Sam…but I’m sure that I’m right about Lissa. She’s up to something. And I don’t think it’s any good….

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

I get Greta’s SOS, and have to smile. I love it, when I have to pull her bacon out of the fire…and she then owes me. Of course, she never asks, how I get people to do what she needs them to—especially, when they don’t want to do what she needs. She’s such a wuss!

Samantha comes in, after her session with Becky, and demurely sits in the chair across from my desk—after unthinkingly sweeping her skirt. She sits very upright, crosses her feet at the ankle, and folds her hands in her lap, with her knees to the side. She’s become such the model WunderGirl, in her actions.

I want to puke! But it is what I’ve been working towards—making a total boy want to act like a total girl…solely, to be able to keep using our products. So much so, that he would even “become” a girl. It’s the ultimate testimony to the power of the product. Or it would be…. I sigh.

The problem is, the more I get to know Sam, the less I’m confident that the profile test was right. While there’s still no absolute indication that she had a feminine bone in her body…before she started this…she just took to it way too easily. That infernal test…damn it to Hell!

Unfortunately, that uncertainty will always mar the scientific validity of the experiment…if I let it stand. Now, it seems we have another test for our little subject. One that should be very interesting! It won’t help me any, with my validity issues, but…it will settle some questions about Sam…or Samantha. Not that I really care about…her. But this should, at the very least, be amusing…to see how she reacts.

I smile sweetly at her…and get right to the point. “Samantha, you’re doing very well in the program. You’re responding well to the products—and learning your role as a WunderGirl. You’ve actually done so well, that Adam Ansel’s son wants to take you out…. You know…on a date.”

I can see her pale, even under the heavy makeup she’s wearing. She shakes her head and is obviously agitated. “I can’t go out on a date, with another boy! That’s crazy! What if he finds out? And what if he wants to kiss me…or…or…worse? No way!”

I nod my head, in seeming understanding…and shrug. “I understand. I will just tell Greta that you no longer wish to use the products, that she formulated for you. I mean, if you can’t be a good little WunderGirl…and do what’s best for the company—and your own career…well…then you don’t need those products.”

She gets even paler. She looks like she’s going to cry. “Please! No! But…I’m not a girl! I mean…. Anyway! This is just weird! Besides! I can’t imagine Momma or Daddy would let me, either!”

I smile and shrug, again—then I purse my lips. “You could certainly fool me about not being a girl! You’re voluntarily taking ‘special supplements,’ to develop as one! Would a boy do that?”

I pause and wonder if she even realizes that she now calls her parents “Momma” and “Daddy?” When she first started coming here, it was always “Mom” and “Dad.” Of course, that’s what all the girls here refer to them as, when they are around her. So, I’m sure it has just sunk into her subconscious.

She’s obviously thinking about my last question…and, it seems she has been thinking about it. She’s not giving me any indication that the question was surprising to her.

I decide to bring this to a close and wink. “Don’t worry, Samantha. Just make sure to not let him cross first base, and it will all be good. It’s just one date. And, I’m sure you’ll be the perfect, sweet little girl for your guy! I’ll even have Greta whip up some special concoctions, especially for you.”

I don’t tell her what those will be. I’ll let that be a surprise. I have to fight letting the giggle loose, that’s threatening to come out. It might be a little maniacal, if it did.

Gerome won’t be able to keep his eyes or hands off of her.

If she’s going to be a girl, then she’s going to have to learn to deal with boys, sooner or later. Afterall, that’s what we women have to do…deal with them…one way, or the other.

I send Greta an affirming message that she’ll play ball, after she leaves for her lessons with Brea. I send another to Ginny, and let her know to add the strong pheromones and aphrodisiacs to her perfume, body mist, and lotion. These are the same components, that I have developed…and that I had her add to Rhonda’s nicotine-laden gum. They are the very same ones that I intend to use in some special, “by referral only,” products. Sort of like “prescription” cosmetics.

The pheromones will make her irresistible, to Gerome…well, to any guy…. The aphrodisiacs, combined with her current level and mix of female hormones, will drive Samantha to the edge of desire. It will do her good to be a little horny, for the date—and in general. I also want her to be even more alluring to Gerome—and boys in general. She will learn another valuable lesson—the power of being a girl. Once she learns to control it, then wielding that power can be very addictive, in and of itself. I can then maybe use that addiction to my advantage.

I send her off, with an impish smile, and then send a message to Rhonda to get in here, pronto. I need to salvage my trial, any way I can. If I can’t use Samantha’s results—or, at least not fully—then I need something to replace them….

 

* * * * *
Rhonda
* * * * *
 

I get Lissa’s message and wince. I look at my hands and grimace at how pale they are becoming…along with the rest of my skin. My contrasting, long black nails still shock me.

When I had first noticed that my skin was…bleaching…it scared me shitless. On top of that, my hair started growing at a much faster rate, than normal…and black as a raven’s feathers. It’s coming in so black, that it has a blue shimmer to it…when the light hits it just right. And…my nails are growing fast, too—and they’re as black as the Ace of Spades. That all became noticeable a few days after I started using the “special” products, that Ginny gave me.

Of course, I confronted Ginny about it. She just shrugged and told me to talk to Lissa. She did say that what I was experiencing, was normal for those products. She said they were designed to achieve the ultimate “Gothic” look—pale skin, with black hair and nails. She also told me that there was makeup that goes with the line.

When I asked Lissa about it, she just laughed and said, “Yes. By committing to using the product, you’re proving your fealty to me.”

She then sent me to see Brea, who showed me how to use the makeup. She used some of the special long-lasting stuff, that I’ll only have to refresh on a weekly basis.

I look at my reflection in my phone’s screen and shake my head, at what looks back at me. A Goth girl, with deathly pale skin, framed by long raven hair, that was once auburn. Her thick, long, lashes outline her eyes—along with heavy, dark makeup, that accentuates them. Eyes, that once were grey, but that are now taking on a distinctive purple color. She has thin, swooped, black eyebrows, that are perfectly shaped, and expertly tapered, to flawless points. She has full, luscious dark-red lips. Lips that are so dark red, they may as well be black. And then I stare at the two gleaming hoops, piercing her lower lip…that give her the appearance of having fangs.

I remember the pain of those piercings. After Brea had given me the makeup “lesson,” I had to go see Joyce. She dyed my now shoulder-length hair, to match my new root color, then styled it. She filed my long nails to sharp point, then she painted them with a shiny black gel polish. Finally, she pierced my bottom lip—twice—and inserted the hoops. I thought I was going to faint, when she did that! I held it together, because I thought she was finished with me, after that torture.

But I was woefully mistaken…she followed it up with putting these drops in my eyes—that burned like the Devil! I thought my eyes were going to melt out of their sockets, it hurt so much! I came with a nanosecond of truly passing out!

She just shrugged. “I know that hurt, Hon…but these are a new version of our special color altering drops. They only have to be put in once…and the resulting color change will be permanent. You’ll have beautiful eyes—and they will be a lovely amethyst color. The full change will take about a week, or so.”

I just groaned, as the tears streamed down my face. I wanted to scream at her…in pain…and frustration!

She had given me a “choice.” I could have temporary blood-red eyes, that would last as long as I used the drops, or permanent purple ones. She did indicate that Lissa had mentioned that she preferred the purple ones. Some “choice!” So, of course, I “chose” the purple. The piercings were bad enough, but I knew I could remove the hoops, once this crap is all over…. But permanent “amethyst” eyes…? The tears of physical pain…turned to…tears of anguish…. I like my green eyes!

Then, once the floodgates finally closed, I had to go see Dharma…for my corset fitting. She also showed me what my new “Goth” wardrobe is to look like—and provided me with a sample to put on. I wound up, having to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe, that afternoon.

At least Lissa had approved of the new look—and gave me a substantial clothing bonus, to pay for everything. She said, since it was my new “uniform,” that she would subsidize the cost. “And, who knows…if this cosmetics line actually does take off, the company may make you the spokesperson for it!” She had just winked…and giggled.

I didn’t respond, at the time. I was in too much pain from the piercings, and the drops. And I could barely breathe, with the corset tightened, like it was. Not to mention…I looked like…a freak…. I still do!

I shake my head and focus back on the message. Lissa wants me to come to her office, to discuss her new…plan…for me.

I groan. What can she want me to do, now? I look back at my reflection. Isn’t…this…enough? I sigh and pop a piece of gum in my mouth. I seem to have gotten into a strange habit of wanting to chew the stuff…it seems to calm me, somehow. But my stash is getting low…I’ll have to ask Ginny about it.

I absent-mindedly caress my hardening nipples and get up to go to Lissa’s office. I had been taking a quick coffee break—but I guess that’s over. I sigh and hurry to her office.

When I arrive a few minutes later, and she lets me in on what she wants me to do, I nearly have a heart attack! She has lost her ever-loving mind! I knew that I was going to regret signing that contract….