The air kissed too much of her at once. Cool currents brushed her nipples, already tight and aching, every pass sending sharp jolts that made her chest spasm against her own arms. Damp grass pressed into the round of her bare ass, blades tickling skin that had never felt so exposed. A shiver crawled up her spine.
Her face burned. She didn't need to look to know — Rogue and the Trader had seen. Every inch. Every secret curve she had never wanted bared.
Her thighs locked tighter together, desperate to hide, but it didn't matter. She felt it anyway — a thin warmth trickling down the inside of one thigh, sliding slow, humiliatingly clear in its meaning. The more she clenched, the more aware she became of it, of how the glow lit every drop.
They saw. They saw all of it.
Her pulse roared in her ears, louder than her own scream had been. Every beat hammered fire through her chest, every thrum forcing her nipples harder into her arm.
I should hate this… Her teeth caught her lip. So why does it feel… alive?
The energy didn't stop.
It surged inside her veins, silver-violet fire cracking across her nerves. Her chest swelled beneath her own arms, breasts pressing fuller, heavier, nipples scraping raw against skin. Her waist drew sharper, hips pushing wider, thighs thickening with dense new strength.
Her bones hummed. A low vibration ran through her spine as her legs lengthened, her whole frame rising inch by inch. Her ass pressed harder into the grass, bigger now, rounder, but still taut, every curve firm and perky.
Her breath caught in her throat — half gasp, half moan. The changes weren't just seen, they were felt, muscle weaving under her lilac skin, blood racing hotter, balance sharpening with each passing second.
My body's… betraying me. Exposed… and yet… stronger.
Another pulse snapped her upright, arching her back. Her magenta hair whipped around her shoulders as light bled from her pores, humming in the air, warping space with every breath she took. Her chest rose, tits straining larger, weightier, her nipples so sensitive the cold air licked them like fire. Her thighs shifted, smoother and thicker, strength coiling in them like a spring.
She gasped, head tipping back, mouth parting as her body sang with power. The trickle down her thigh was still there, proof of what she felt, but it was drowned under the rush tearing her apart and remaking her.
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The storm ended in silence. The glow that had once flared wild from her pores dimmed into a steady pulse, a soft violet sheen that clung to her skin like oil over polished stone. Clarice Ferguson — Blink — no longer trembled. She stood at the end of her unbinding, her body remade from the inside out.
She was taller now, her frame lengthened by several inches, every limb drawn longer, more elegant, more commanding. What had once been a lithe, almost fragile build had deepened into something fuller, richer, sculpted.
Her chest was the most striking change. Where once she had carried the modest fullness of firm C-cups, she now bore breasts swollen to D — perhaps even brushing into the edge of DD. Yet despite their new size and weight, they remained impossibly perky, sitting high on her ribcage as though gravity itself bent around her. Round, heavy, and proud, they pressed against the cage of her arms, nipples still stiff and dark from the storm that had remade her. Each breath lifted them in a slow, mesmerizing rise and fall, the perfect blend of weight and firmness.
Below, her waist pinched sharply inward, narrower than before, sculpting the line of her torso into an hourglass curve that flowed with unnatural precision. That tightness only made the flare of her hips more dramatic — wide, commanding, built to balance the new proportions of her frame.
Her stomach lay flat as a board, but not soft — faint ridges of new muscle cut beneath the satin of lilac skin, the suggestion of strength layered under every breath. The glow traced each line cruelly, marking her as both beautiful and dangerous.
Her thighs had thickened with muscle, smooth columns wrapped in power, tapering sleekly into knees that bent with feline grace. Every shift made new definition ripple beneath the skin, coiled springs of force dressed in sensual flesh.
And her ass — it had grown with her hips, fuller, rounder, yet no less taut. High and perky, each cheek curved as though sculpted by a master's hand, dimpling faintly when she clenched, smoothing into impossible perfection when she moved. The grass still kissed its underside, each tickle only highlighting how shamelessly lifted and firm her new shape had become.
Her calves and ankles carried the same refinement, slim but sharpened, no softness wasted. Her entire lower body spoke of speed and force bound into curves that demanded stares.
Her arms bore new tone as well — no bulk, only sleek definition, a quiet strength running from shoulder to wrist. Even her collarbone sat sharper, more defined, framed by the proud rise of her fuller chest.
Above it all, her face lifted. Magenta hair whipped down her back in wild strands, but her features had refined — her cheekbones cut higher, her jaw set with a firmer line. And her eyes — her eyes glowed. Once bright violet, they now burned deeper, every flicker of the silver-lilac light caught in their depths.
Her skin itself was different now, smoother, more luminous, yet still hers. The lilac tone that marked her mutant blood gleamed evenly across her body, satin over muscle and curve. And the markings — the thin, darker purple lines that traced her face and body — had not vanished. They remained, curling across her cheeks, running faintly over her shoulders, hips, and thighs. Not scars, nor tattoos — but part of her, as natural as freckles. The unbinding had only sharpened them, making them clearer, more distinct, as though evolution had etched her identity more firmly into her flesh.
Blink had been cute before — agile, quick, a gymnast's grace wrapped in modest curves. But now, standing naked in the hush of her rebirth, she looked more than beautiful. She looked untouchable.
Every inch of her had been enhanced, perfected, pulled past human limits into something else — something meant to draw stares, to silence words, to command attention.
---
The last of the glow ebbed from Blink's skin. Her breathing steadied, chest rising and falling as the crystal orb in the Trader's hand hissed and vanished into nothing.
That sound broke the spell.
Rogue moved instantly, stepping in front of Blink in a smooth, protective motion. Her shoulders squared, her body shielding the girl without hesitation. A smirk tugged at her lips, light and teasing to hide the heat in her cheeks.
"Well, sugar," she drawled, "seen enough, or you want me to charge you for tickets?"
The Trader didn't answer. His gloved fingers snapped once, crisp and sharp. In a shimmer of silver light, a neat bundle of clothing appeared — jeans, a plain black T-shirt… and beneath them, a bra and panties. The garments hovered for a moment before drifting toward Blink.
Rogue's eyebrow shot up as she reached out and caught the underthings before Blink could. She held them up, lips twitching into a grin.
"Well now… these are a little fancier than what I was expectin'," she remarked. Lace, delicate straps, and a cut that was anything but modest. "Didn't take you for the type to carry Victoria's Secret in your back pocket, Trader."
Behind the shadow of his hood, the Trader's jaw clenched. Fuck. In the rush… I pulled the first set I thought of. Wanda's. Shit. He turned sharply away, cloak flaring, refusing to show his face.
Blink snatched the rest of the bundle quickly, clutching it to her chest. Her eyes darted over the clothes — jeans, T-shirt, and even the bra and panties Rogue teased about. Every single piece was the right size. Perfect, in fact. Tailored as if they had been made for her new body — the swell of her heavier breasts, the curve of her widened hips, the strength in her thighs.
Her lips parted, unsure whether to be more embarrassed by the lace or unsettled that he had conjured them to fit her so flawlessly.
The silence stretched again, but this time with a different weight — awkward, heated, and edged with the awareness that nothing here was going to be forgotten anytime soon.
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CHAPTER:- [113- STEAMY NIGHT WITH CELISE (R-18)] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON