FormeX

*Author's Note*

Literotica Edition 2023/06/19

This is an extremely explicit erotic story written by FrigOfFury. You should not read it if you are not of legal age to read graphic depictions of sex.

Erotic content: Breast expansion, ass expansion, bimbofication, futanari, F/F, light pregnancy & lactation

*****

Part I: Strength Through Stupidity

I was surprised to win FormeX's first Flashcast contest, and almost didn't respond to their DM telling me I'd won because it just seemed like it had to be a scam. I mean, were they really going to send over two hundred dollars of their merchandise to a bumpy-faced girl with just the one high-angle selfie on her feed that didn't really convince anyone that she had curves?

But they insisted that there would be no cost to me, including tax or shipping and handling. And I did want curves; otherwise I wouldn't have humiliated myself by posting a selfie and tagging them. Not that anyone was following my Flashcast feed; but if anyone happened across it I would have been embarrassed. I accepted the offer, provided my measurements, and two days later a soft-sided package arrived with the FormeX "Confidence" series shaping undergarments.

They took a bit of tugging to get on and I was worried the jumper-style shapewear would tear, but their customer service assured me that it was very strong material and would be comfortable once I had it on. They were perfectly correct and the compression worked a charm, immediately giving me the impression of both waist and bust while not really impeding my movement. I wasn't about to become the next top Flashcast model, of course, but I was a lot less embarrassed to upload the required post showing how I looked with "#Confidence".

The marketing insisted that FormeX undergarments were "perfect for active and everyday wear", so I absolutely did wear them every day, and even started a little bit of an exercise routine. Honestly, the exercise was probably more to explain to my coworkers why I was looking more fit. If they had asked; no one really talked to me except when I'd made a mistake or started crying while being berated by customers who thought I was far too stupid to be in software support.

In my work clothes the improvement wasn't so very obvious, but I thought perhaps the other women at the office accorded me a little more respect after I started wearing clothes that were a mite more fitted. My boss Sandra even said my performance was adequate during my review in which she gave me a fifty cent per hour raise, and I didn't see any material difference in my numbers. I really thought that looking less dumpy made her less inclined to find things to criticise.

Between moderately increased physical activity, fewer depression-driven binges or fasts, and a bit more consistent skin care, my face cleared noticeably. Not to the point where I didn't feel the need to cake over with concealer, but enough to encourage me that maybe I could have okay skin someday, if I maintained my healthier regimen.

My Flashcast was still mostly pictures of my cats when FormeX came out with their Hacktivate line that promised to, "biohack your body to be its best by encouraging fat to melt away where it's not welcome and remain where it is", though it was careful to note that it made no guarantee as to results nor were its claims evaluated by any government body. I thought this was quite obvious nonsense, but that didn't keep me from participating in the "#Hacktivated" competition in the hopes of getting more free merch. If nothing else, it would mean I didn't have to do the wash every other day if I had four rather than two sets of FormeX, and I was also hoping that the clear tummy section on the Hacktivate bodysuits might allow me to show at least a sliver of midriff without revealing that I was wearing shapewear.

It's too much to say I was shocked to win again, but it was certainly a very pleasant surprise when I did. I had thought that my initial win had been because FormeX was just so new that no one had heard of it, but there were loads of real Flashcast influencers competing in the #Hacktivated contest. Not huge names or anything, but plenty of genuinely hot girls with many more followers than my cats and me, not to mention actual sponsorships.

At first I thought perhaps it was a bit of smart marketing on their part, as I presented a more impressive before and after comparison, but they didn't actually feature me in their marketing materials or anything. Perhaps they were relying on contestant winners to go viral organically, but for that they really should have picked some of the hotter contestants. Then again, if they wanted hot, they could have used the woman modeling their clothes on their online store who was built like a porn star. Maybe she was an porn star and that was why they didn't want to use her as the face of their marketing, but if so I hadn't been able to identify which porn star she was. She looked reminiscent of several porn stars and erotic models, but I couldn't make a positive identification of any of them.

Regardless, the Hacktivate outfits were really great, and my tummy looked bare and natural as long as I didn't show my navel. They also, I was forced to admit after a fortnight of increasingly obvious changes, really worked. I'd progressed from a B-cup at best to a full C, and I also felt a bit more fleshy on my bum. I had no idea how it did it, but it persisted at least a little even when I wasn't wearing the shapewear.

The only downside was that it was even more difficult to get into and out of than the Confidence series. Hacktivate shapewear was specially designed to allow showering and towelling dry without taking them off after a workout, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but I lowkey dreaded the removal process. I definitely changed out of them less often than I should have because it was so tiresome to fish the tiny "Invisizipper" tab out of its hiding place at the top of my bum, hooking in the little self-assist wand and forcing the slider up or down. That drawback aside, I was really quite satisfied how it never pinched my skin and left almost no perceptible seam through the transparent section once the zipper was closed. I felt like the inconvenience was really quite minor in the scheme of things, and despite the tightness I never felt like I was dying to get out of the bodysuit. Truthfully, after a couple lazy nights where I fell asleep without taking them off and didn't experience any of my customary tossing and turning, I started to wear them to bed regularly.

Outside of the context of winning articles in a contest, there was actually another downside to the Hacktivate line: it was extremely expensive, almost three hundred dollars apiece. FormeX did offer financing, which I would never in my life have contemplated using, but argued to myself that it was more than worth it if I could stop taking my sleep drugs that didn't work half as well.

Getting good sleep and feeling generally satisfied with my body did wonders for my depression and social situation, as well. I was as awkward as ever, of course, but a few of my coworkers at least seemed to think I was cute and funny rather than weird and repellant. It wasn't enough to banish the everpresent bleak thoughts that had worn such a groove into my head, but they didn't bite as deep or as often, letting me enjoy some moments that were very like happiness.

So when FormeX reached out to me to ask if I was interested in becoming a brand ambassador, I easily set aside my discomfort at the whole idea of "brand ambassadors." It was especially easy to justify to myself because, unlike most influencers who accepted such roles, I wholeheartedly believed in the product and genuinely thought it could change lives. It had changed mine, after all.

The contract was not too strenuous, either, at least on its face. I needed to make a morning, midday, and evening post each day while wearing FormeX outfits, and mention in my profile that I was FormeX brand ambassador. Amazingly, they didn't require me to show I was wearing it, or use the #FormeX topic tag or anything of that nature. I wasn't sure if this subtlety was smart or too clever by half, but either way I enjoyed not having to constantly remind myself and my fans that I was flogging merchandise.

And I was acquiring fans, amazingly. Not huge numbers by any means, but a decent number of mostly women had noticed how much progress I'd made and found my journey inspiring. I couldn't satisfactorily answer some of the questions they asked, but they appreciated that I even tried. Besides, if my skin cleared up more or less on its own in my late 20s, maybe theirs would, too.

Feeling a little less ugly in video meetings helped me weather the unreasonable customers better. This seemed to outweigh the slight increase in the number of complaints about my failure to give in to unreasonable demands, judging by the fact that I was finally promoted from Support Associate under Sandra in Customer Service to Support Technician under David the Tech Support manager. It didn't make a great deal more money, but the hours were better and more steady, and the other women in Product Support accorded me a bit more respect in the sense that they stopped acting as though I might be terminated at any moment. The condescendingly encouraging manager continued to view me as a nonentity, but a less troublesome one. And anyway, tech support would be better for future employment if I ever got the courage up to apply elsewhere.

At first I felt extremely foolish being a brand ambassador when I had fewer than a thousand followers across all my social media accounts, especially on those occasions when security guards or other staff caught me in locations I chose for selfie backdrops to imply stylish affluence. The staff members accepted my explanations about being a social media influencer with an very dispiriting combination of skepticism and pity that made me doubt whether I was pulling anything off. Fortunately Crystal Rose, my assigned relationship manager, assured me that FormeX was very satisfied with my activity as long as I met the terms of the sponsorship in good faith.

Crystal was probably the most supportive and encouraging person I'd ever met, always ready to give honest feedback, advice, and affirmation when I needed, without ever sounding a false note. I tried to resist it, but I couldn't help thinking of her as a friend, and that was the only thing I dared not tell her. I'd never been able to keep a friend since I graduated from secondary school, and I was not willing to curse the relationship. Especially given my bad habit of developing romantic feelings for every friend who seemed even the slightest bit receptive.

It didn't take more that two long conversations sharing far more of the rest of my life than I should have and feeling my heart unclench at her sympathetic and seemingly real interest in my disgorged wounds and failures before I was hopelessly infatuated with her. Being a complete social idiot, I couldn't just keep my feelings to myself and maintain a professional distance. Instead I had to pretend I was into someone else. The 'someone else' I chose was the FormeX website model.

"Really?" Crystal texted me, "Do you know who she is?"

"No idea," I responded, and added, "I know, I'm very shallow for admiring someone based purely on appearance." I'd seen a thumbnail version Crystal's headshot so I knew she was at least somewhat good looking, but I thought that if she did twig to the fact that I had a crush on her, she wouldn't think it was because she was hot. Even though I couldn't resist imagining that Crystal was at least as hot as the website model.

"Do you want to meet her?" Crystal responded.

"You know her?" I asked, my stomach dropping.

"Yep. You could meet her, if you want."

I stared at my phone for a long time.

"Barbara?" she asked when I spent too much time trying to figure out how to respond.

"I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked.

"I doubt we have much in common."

"Why?"

"Because... Okay, this sounds more judgmental than I mean it, but... I'm pretty sure she's either a porn star or a trophy wife. Either way, I'm sure she'd find me dreadfully boring. FormeX has completely changed my life for the better, but I still don't go to parties, or shop for clothes, or do anything glamorous, really. I'm sure you already knew that my feed had to be a load of lies, considering how awkward and, well, not-rich I am." I felt simultaneously better and worse to have it out in the open. "Better to admire from afar than disappoint anyone."

There was a short pause before Crystal wrapped up the topic with, "Suit yourself."

Not too long after that, Crystal told me that FormeX was about to release two new bodysuits, the Elevation athletic wear and LuXe glamour wear. "The same model can't do both lines, so I wanted to see if you were interested in modelling one of them."

"Why me?"

"Because I think you're the brand's most loyal fan."

"That might be true, but I'm loyal enough to want you to choose someone prettier."

"FormeX is not interested in that. The FormeX mission is to give everyone confidence, health, and the body of their dreams. Not to sponsor people who already have it. Besides, this is only tryouts for now; other managers have their own entrants."

I felt extremely torn, but I wasn't able to hold out for very long. "Okay, I think you're making a mistake, but I can't pass up the opportunity."

"Brilliant! Which line?"

"I should probably take the Elevation line, don't you think?"

"Why?" she asked.
 "Because I could pass for sporty much easier than glamorous."

"No, you have to choose based on what results you want and what line you want to rep on your Flashcast."

"I 'have to' choose based on what I want? Is this corporate policy?" I joked.

"Yes, I declare it to be corporate policy," Crystal responded.

"LMAO. Okay, tell me more about them," I responded to humour her.

"Elevation helps athletes reach peak form without having to give up all their curves. If you want to get strong and toned or even ripped, then Elevation is your line. You like going to the gym, right?"

That sounded exhausting. "I like that I can go to the gym without embarrassing myself, but I'm not an athletic type. What about the LuXe?"

"The LuXe is more for someone who enjoys the finer things in life, and wants to be one of them."

A strangely electric feeling ran up my spine at the way she put it. "Is that marketing copy, or did you just come up with that extemporaneously?"

"LOL not marketing copy. Why, do you like it?"

"I do, but I don't know if it's actually a good phrasing for an advert."

"Why do you like it?"

I couldn't say it was because the electricity had run back down my spine and was now making my tummy feel fluttery. "I don't know. I guess the idea of being a 'finer thing' sort of appeals to me after a lifetime of being the opposite. Maybe I secretly want to be a trophy wife after all."

"Sounds like LuXe is the right line for you. I can't wait to see what it does for you!"

I felt like I should object, but her excitement stoked that nice feeling in my centre and I decided it would be an interesting experience to see if I could squeeze myself into looking like one of the sexier, more glamorous Flashcast models, who looked like their entire lives were spent sunbathing at resorts and posing with their girlfriends in the VIP lounge. It was stupid of me, of course, given that even the more moderately affluent presentation of my Flashcast persona up to that date was so precarious, but the thought being a 'finer thing' in Crystal's view was so hot.

I knew, of course, that the off-camera lives of the Flashcast glamour models were surely not so perfect, and might even be somewhat grim if they privately depended on pleasing their moneyed boyfriends or husbands, but it wasn't as if my life was so perfect, either. I had vast student debts but no degree after failing out of university while fighting an agonizing and persistent upper tract UTI, a bankruptcy on my record from the medical bills, and a probably dead-end job working for a company that sold outdated software to outdated rural banks. All of which I'd told Crystal in one of my fits of boxed wine-driven confession that was so mortifying after the fact. By comparison, pretending to be glamorous seemed like it might be a fun experience, if I could pull it off. There was also that part of me that fantasised about it somehow tricking Crystal into thinking of me in a different light.

It was going to be a lot of work, I knew. I would have to keep my makeup to a standard above what I could usually manage, and reliably find places to take selfies that were, if not actually fancy, at least not obviously plebeian. But if I succeeded, I could get selected as a model. And more importantly, I would have vindicated Crystal choosing me, of all people.

Instead of sending me a LuXe set based on the measurements they already had for me, I had to actually go to their fitting lab, which was fortunately not too far from a stop that was on my way home. There was only one other candidate there at that time, but she was gorgeous and ultra hot, which was dispiriting. Worse, she was also a LuXe candidate, and I felt very sure I had no chance.

That was why I cheated.

In my defence, I wasn't sure I was cheating. I just strongly suspected I was not supposed to use the time I was waiting for the other model to finish peering through a tiny tear in the paper covering a window in the door to an attached FormeX office. I was just barely able to see part of a white board with some writing that seemed to have something to do with the contest. Even then I might not have done anything with it except that I spotted Crystal's name next to a "max score preset code" that was short enough for me to remember.

When it was my turn to choose the exact sizing of my LuXe bodysuits, the technicians sent me into an imager first to determine what my proportions were without any bodycon garments, then had me tinker with the controls on a somewhat rough looking app, watching my 3D-rendered body shrink and swell in response.

There were a variety of measures of my body all over, letting me set how much thigh gap, and pad up my bum, pinch in my waist, and of course maximize my bust. Because the changes were based on my unaided body shape, though, there were limits on how big the changes could be. In particular, my D-cup boobs could be pushed only to F-cups, and that only if I compressed my chest slightly to go down a band size. Not that I was disappointed, really, but I had thought "F-cup" would be bigger than what I was seeing on screen. I was pretty sure the other model's breasts were already bigger than that anyway.

After playing with it for a while, though, I saw that the techs weren't watching so closely, and I tapped on a settings control that, amongst other things, had a "preset" option. I quickly selected it and typed in Crystal's code which, I hoped, would give me the maximum score in the contest. When I accepted the code, however, the 3D model had completely reverted to defaults. In fact the sliders stopped working as well, which tipped me toward a panic attack.

One of the techs saw me staring unblinking into space but didn't realise my frozen expression hid an intense struggle to forestall panic. "All done?"

"Yes!" I said, a little too quickly, and 'accidentally' dropped the tablet in a last ditch effort to hide the freeze that I was irrationally sure they would immediately know was a result of my perfidy.

The tech, however, effortlessly plucked the tablet out of the air before it could hit anything. "Whoops! Kinda slippery without a case, huh?" She was carefully not looking at the screen as she held it out to me, which I thought was odd.