FormeX

"Yeah, sorry!" I said with a shaky laugh as I accepted it back from her.

"Hit 'accept' and it'll clear everything so I don't see it. It submits completely anonymously to our factory and then ships out to you, so no one will know what your choices were except you."

"Oh, it looks like it already accepted while I was fumbling it," I said, and showed the default model to her.

She looked a little surprised, but didn't cross-examine me or anything, and I at least managed to make it out of there without being confronted. I did expect to get some kind of message saying that I was disqualified, or at best that there was a problem with my outfit selection that prevented them from being created, but it was quite the opposite. I got a package tracking number, and then a package.

Inside was more than just the outfits, but also a set of samples of other cosmetic items, none of which anyone had mentioned to me. In fact, they looked like factory production examples of some kind, but they were marked "proof max set: Rose", which gave me the idea that what my cheating had really gotten were Crystal's personal choices for some kind of next generation accessories. I had complicated feelings about that, and I shoved both the samples and my feelings under a pile of pillows for later examination.

The bodysuits were expected, I thought, so I focused on them. However, as soon as I fished them out of the packaging, I decided "expected" was not at all the right word. For one thing, there was only one, and it was much longer than the other FormeX bodycon garments. For another, the extra material did not exactly mean it provided more coverage, because it was entirely made from the same transparent material used in the tummy portion of the Hacktivate line. This was at least partly necessary because it came all the way up almost like a turtleneck, and all the way down below the ankle, but leaving the crotch visually exposed seemed a bit perverse.

Actually getting into it was quite a bit easier than I feared at first. The material was ridiculously stretchy and used what was described as an "Nonezipper" opening system that could stretch along with the rest of the fabric. So, even though the opening line through the crotch and into the small of the back seemed awfully short, it was easy to make a big enough hole to pull it up and over my head and shoulders once I had my legs in. And, because the Nonezipper length was relatively short, it didn't need the special wand to hook the pull tab on the thin little sliders that somehow attached the two sides of the opening together.

It felt and looked much better than I expected, like a second skin, and a quick test showed that it didn't darken when wet, or really hold any detectable amount of water. One quick wipe and it felt as dry as bare skin. The 'front' slider on the Nonezipper allowed opening up just what was needed for any kind of business between my legs, and far from threatening to get in the way, the fabric's natural elasticity actually pulled everything in convenient directions. The only disappointing bit was that it was not as tight as I expected; it was basically indistinguishable from a basic unitard. I felt like such an idiot when it dawned on me that by putting in Crystal's code, I'd probably saddled myself with a default bodysuit that wasn't going to do anything for my figure.

I lay down on the bed for awhile thinking of all the many ways I was a complete fuckup, but eventually I started thinking practically, and thought maybe I should claim that the package had been stolen. It made me feel so incredibly guilty to contemplate it, but at the same time, admitting to Crystal what I'd done just seemed impossible.

As it happened, she contacted me first while I was still wallowing on the bed, asking me if I'd gotten a package. Sealing my fate, I said I hadn't and I didn't understand what had happened to the bag, which I thought would reinforce the impression that I didn't know it was a box and also giving me a chance to create the suggestion in her mind that because they'd sent me a cardboard box that didn't fit through my mail slot, the theft was much more likely. Which it was, to be honest, though obviously not as likely as I implied.

Crystal seemed upset but didn't blame me, which filled me with both relief and self-loathing.

"Well, it was the wrong stuff anyway, so I'm almost glad you didn't get it. There's some prototypes in there that haven't been tested and aren't necessarily even safe to use. In the meantime, I'm afraid you'll have to come back in to re-do your selections, because we don't keep them."

I felt bad about my misbehaviour, but the fact that I seemed to have completely cleared my name and would still get to participate was such a perfect outcome that I was able to get over my habit of self-flagellation and just enjoy my good fortune for a moment.

As I danced around the room in celebration, I noticed that the tummy felt far tighter than it had at first. In fact, it all was feeling far more snug than it had. That sent me rushing back to the little instruction booklet that I'd assumed was boilerplate about washing, and found that there were in fact some important bits to be learned there, the most immediately relevant of which was that the fabric would be loose at first, but tightening as it absorbed warmth from the skin.

The instruction booklet was clearly a sort of draft revision for this version that was partly a sort of engineering spec sheet that referred to FormeX internal documentation, partly instructions for FormeX product lines including both Hacktivate and LuXe, and some sections for "LX V0.97.1" that I took to be written for a version of the product other than that they were releasing. It was rather amusing to me to see them treating their clothing lines like software development, but it did align with their marketing strategy of making it sound like their undergarments were as high technology as any personal electronics.

There was also some stuff specifically for Crystal, though I couldn't really tell what exactly it meant except that maybe everything was made to her personal specifications. I had barely seen her body, but I'd formed the impression of a fit and stacked woman who could model for FormeX as well as anyone. It tickled me to think that I might be wearing a bodysuit designed to squish my padding into just the shape that Crystal thought was hottest. For her own body, of course, but maybe also on me?

It stopped tightening within the first hour of wearing it, but its visibility and its tactile distinguishability from skin continued to decline until it was effectively undetectable to anyone who didn't know what to look for; it pretty much just made it look like I had just come back from the spa.

So of course I was happy to wear the undergarment, even after I ordered and received my actual LuXe set, which I set aside because obviously Crystal's selection would probably be higher scoring, and also I wanted to get into my proper shape as soon as possible so I didn't miss out on the competition. Except for when I went in for the re-fit appointment, I didn't even bother taking off Crystal's suit. It didn't seem to get dirty or gross at all as long as I showered normally and I didn't want to wait hours for it to get to the point where I could be sure no one would notice me wearing it.

After a about a week, it had somehow squished my tummy padding enough that I could fit into size 0 dresses, my band size had declined and my cup size jumped by up to two letters to G or H depending on brand. I was very impressed with the possibilities of my new shape and decided to update my wardrobe again to take advantage. While the need to get more fitted tops had been obvious, I was actually more surprised by the way it had somehow made the most of my hips and bum. In the past I'd always chosen my skirts and trousers to disguise rather than improve my rather unimpressive backside and narrow hips. I hadn't really updated that even after FormeX had given me a bit more to work with, both because the improvement hadn't been that big and because I thought the outlines of the undergarments might show. For whatever reason I really didn't want people in the offline world to know they were the only reason I didn't look like a stick.

As far as I could tell, none of them suspected, including my boss who complimented me on my work out of the blue and asked if I might be interested in representing the department at a trade show where the company was unveiling a revolutionary new service which he described as, "A crypto thing". I didn't really want to go to a trade show, but being trained on a major new product before it had even been released was probably one of my few opportunities to see some real advancement, so I accepted eagerly without asking many questions.

That night I celebrated a bit while wearing my outfit as always, which continued to feel pristine and snug despite having worn it far longer than I should have. I was worried that I might have damaged it by wearing it so long, but it wasn't as if it would be a disaster if I had to switch to the suits actually made for me. It had already gotten me a stroke of luck at work that I didn't think they would take away just because my regular bodycon suits weren't quite as perfect or whatever.

But if it might be the last time I could wear Crystal's outfit, my half-drunk brain reasoned that I should seize the day and try on the experimental cosmetic accessories as well before disposing of them all.

I started with the lip gloss because it seemed easiest, and it should have warned me that not all was what I assumed, because it tingled distinctly going on and I could feel my lips swelling slightly before I'd even moved on to the next cosmetic. Poking at them experimentally revealed that the viscous liquid I had applied had cured into a vaguely plastic membrane.

By then I was too aroused by the idea of temporarily experiencing what it was like to be Crystal's creation and continued on to the false lashes. Between my inexperience with falsies and a certain level of inebriation, I wasn't at all surprised to that I made my own eyes water in the process, but with a little nudging I fancied I'd sorted them well enough that no one would know for sure whether they were my lashes or not. This was pretty stupid, of course, because anyone who had ever seen me before would know immediately, but I wasn't interested in being clever at that moment.

Strictly speaking, the heel supports weren't cosmetics, but they were meant to make walking in heels easier, and they did what they said on the tin for as long as I was paying attention.

The real mistake was when I applied the nails. While not completely outrageous, they were far longer and thicker than I would ever have chosen for myself. I enjoyed the way they made me look like an erotic model or a trophy wife, but I was not so smashed that I didn't grasp that going out looking as I did at that moment would assure no one took me the least bit seriously.

That didn't mean I couldn't frig myself to the sight, so I absolutely did. The nails required a bit of practice, but their thickness and rounded shape prevented them from being too much of a jabbing risk. I actually came twice, the second time while fantasising about surprising Crystal with my appearance.

It wasn't that I didn't understand that revealing myself to Crystal would immediately unmask my dishonesty, but I was able to leave that out of my little fantasy while I lounged half asleep in a tipsy post-orgasmic haze. So instead of rousing myself to contemplate this while removing everything, I decided to sleep on it all one more night. In the morning I was glad I did because I got to enjoy how I looked in the mirror one last time.

Of course I needed to go to work so I only gazed at myself for a minute or so, taking a couple of pictures for my private enjoyment later. Then, finally, I tried to pluck off my falsies. That proved extremely difficult with my nails, so I transitioned to trying to take my nails off. There was a special liquid for it, I knew, but then when I looked more carefully at the instructions I was disturbed to see that the liquid wasn't itself solvent or anything, it was actually a coating that could be dissolved with normal solvents which protected the natural nail from being dissolved by the artificial one.

It was only then that it occurred to me that Crystal really had not been joking about the potential dangers of these prototypes. I wasn't sure exactly what I was looking at when I examined the underside of my new French-looking nails, but it was at least consistent with the hypothesis that my natural nails had been more or less destroyed by the false ones.

I had skipped pretty much the exact same step for the lip gloss, and I strongly suspected that there was no removing it without burning or tearing my slightly swollen and sensitive lips. I became extremely glad that I had not taken my chances with the "calming loop earrings" due to the technical description making it sound a bit like some sort of electroshock therapy that was activated by stress. It seemed quite as dangerous as the warning decal on the little box suggested, really.

So on I moved to the final discovery, which was that I couldn't easily fish out the rear pull tab on my LuXe zipper because of my nails. Looking in the mirror it was impossible to confirm I was even plucking in quite the right spot, which I had previously done by feel, which having the long nails had altered more than I would have thought possible.

Soon enough I was out of time to mess with it, and I contemplated calling in sick, but I thought my boss would probably demand a physician's note, and anyway he always complained if someone called in so late.

So, I went to work looking like a, well, a bit of a bimbo, really. I got a bunch of looks from my coworkers, of course, which were embarrassing but also slightly gratifying. Sitting down at my station I decided maybe I didn't mind them knowing that I could look this hot when I wanted to.

I dreaded being called into my boss' office, but I had resigned myself to it and didn't think I would be in real trouble, so my level of anxiety was high but manageable when it actually happened. I was prepared. Or so I thought; he didn't chew me out the way I thought. Instead he condescendingly told me that I should have made this effort earlier, as I had more aptitude in a marketing role than technical. I gave him a flummoxed thank you because I didn't think I could justify slapping him.

Anyway, I left that meeting with him having advised me that if I kept up my "marketable appearance" he would make sure that I got the promotion to sales support for the new cryptocurrency product, and from then on he stopped criticising my work performance at all. Yes, I was not so dense that I didn't know it was because he'd decided performance of my actual responsibilities was irrelevant, but this bit of sexism was actually quite convenient in many ways.

At home later I decided that I could hide that I was wearing Crystal's experimental cosmetic items by applying conventional cosmetics over them, and so I could roll the dice on leaving them all to detach, wear off, or whatever they were going to do. I wasn't able to suppress the anxiety while sober, nor was I willing to drink it away, but shopping for my new look was entertaining enough to reconcile myself to my foolishness. I more than half convinced myself that it was a stroke of good luck, in fact.

I put on a face filter for my next meeting with Crystal in which I explained that I was starting my competition participation, and thought she looked a little surprised at this unusual bit of whimsy on my part, she didn't challenge me on it either.

Both on the new Flashcast account I set up for the competition and at work I remained completely made up every day, with new nail polish, new mascara, new lipstick, and so on, which made it hard for anyone to be sure what was real and what was artifice, not excepting myself, at least until I started taking pictures of myself between washing off the old and adding the new. Differences in sleep quality, water retained, and so on delayed my certainty regarding which changes were persistent and which were transitory, but I hadn't even been in the competition a week before I could no longer deny that the changes were continuing.

I knew that I should tell Crystal what was happening and get help, but nothing really bad was happening yet. Okay, it was obviously completely unnatural for my breasts to have swollen so much that the only bras in ordinary shops that fit me were for nursing mothers, but they still looked good and weren't uncomfortable. Quite the opposite.

And my Flashcast account was taking off like a rocket. I had to turn off DMs because I was getting bombarded with completely impossible levels of messages from everything from lonely men to predatory 'talent agents' who tried to get my personal information. It was a lot of effort to try to get shots in appropriate locales without giving too many hints about where I lived and worked, but my ever-helpful boss had me 'promoted' to a salaried Marketing Support position where I was a team of one. My only responsibility being to review marketing materials and prepare for the trip to the trade show, which left me plenty of flexibility to arrive late, take long lunches, and go on 'coffee runs' that extended well over an hour. Not only did I not get in trouble, every meeting I attended included compliments on how well I presented, even when my delivery felt wooden or broken to my own ear.

Whether my title was Marketing Support or Eye Candy, my role at the company was clear. I was actually fine with this, though, because "Marketing Support" for a supposedly next-generation cryptocurrency product was going on my resume, and no one reading it would know I was basically intended to be a booth babe.

That is absolutely what I was. Not in skimpy clothes or anything; the company made sure I had a fitted outfit that was at least superficially professional, but still tailored to make sure every straight man in the convention centre had to make at least one stop in at the booth. I don't know how much influence I had on the product being selected as best in show for its category, but the CEO himself made sure I joined him on stage for the award presentation, and was one of those he thanked by name.

Of course dozens of men and perhaps a couple women hit on me with varying levels of subtlety during that time, but my fear that one of my new coworkers would try to come on to me was mostly unfounded. Certainly there was some flirting, but with high ranking executives present, my coworker peers were mostly circumspect. The executives who could take a pass at me with more impunity also had more to lose, and anyway they could hire women that looked like me if they wanted to and so limited themselves to undressing me with their eyes.

During that time I had been posing to minimise the appearance of changes to my curves, so I made it through my weekly checkin with Crystal, and I told myself my changes were levelling off, so I kept up my lie again. The competition would be over soon, I thought, and then I would admit what I'd done. I'd be disqualified of course, but I thought it would screw Crystal over less. At least that was the justification I intended to give her, and I hoped that she'd accept it in the context of a confession.

Two days later, I was fired from my job. There was no explanation whatsoever, but there was a curious coincidence that the CEO was also given a pink slip for unspecified sexual impropriety. It was absolutely not with me in the slightest, but I felt sure that human resources had decided that it needed to clean house of anyone who might be suspected to have reached her position on her back.