Remodelling Clay

He’s right next to you. There’s no better time than now to do it.

Sierra shook her head, focusing herself on the tubes and vials in front of her. Intrusive thoughts. That’s all they were. The fact that she had been assigned to do this chemistry lab with Jared Gardonski changed nothing about her ability to pull off anything the professor asked of her with the greatest of ease. Never mind that he had been her secret crush ever since she arrived on campus 4 years ago. Never mind that the two of them were practically alone and unsupervised at their own counter. Never mind that even the largest lab coat available at the time fit his tall frame extremely snugly, betraying the cut definition of his muscles beneath it. She was in her element, and nothing was going to stop her from closing out this semester with yet another A under her belt.

“Ah shit. Sierra, was it? I didn’t prep for this at all. Can I look at some of your notes?”

He knows your name! He wants your notes! Make him work for them!

Sierra pushed her notebook over wordlessly, not even looking up from the bubbling liquids in front of her. She knew she was blushing, but her long, unkempt brown hair did a solid enough job covering her cheeks as she kept her gaze as far away from the towering rugby player beside her.

You know he’s single… his last breakup with that track star was the talk of the whole campus two weeks ago. Ask him out! He might be interested!

The thought of Jared ever possibly being interested in her sent her heart aflutter. She looked down at the data tables she was meant to be filling and gagged at the sight of the little hearts she had been absent-minded doodling. Things were going poorly. Grabbing one of the heat resistant gloves from a nearby drawer, Sierra began to start the process of doing the experiment she was supposed to be doing, picking up a bubbling vial of super-heated chemicals with some heavy iron tongs. The lab was all she wanted on her mind at the moment. Do well at that and she could keep up her grades. Keep up her grades and she could have jobs lined up waiting for her once she graduated. Once she had a job she could climb the career ladder, buy a house and a car, and only THEN would she worry about getting whatever hunk she desired.

Or you could just ask him now.

Really, what would the harm be in doing it? The write-up wasn’t due for another few hours; 15 minutes of chatting would hardly make that much of a difference in their ability to finish before the deadline. The fact that she was even considering it was surprise enough to her- she shouldn’t pass up such a sudden spike of confidence. It was a long shot for a quiet, unassuming girl such as herself, but she was going to do it- right here, right now. She looked up from her workstation, boiling vial in hand.

“J- Jared…?”

“Yeah Susie? Need help with something? It looked like you had it all taken care of, so I just left you to it.”

Jared walked back to their counter from across the room, leaving behind a blushing classmate she recognized from the cheerleading squad.

Her heart dropped like a stone. She never should have gotten her hopes up.

Her grip faltered, and the sound of shattered glass was heard.



For the 3rd time that day, Sierra slowly unraveled the bandages that were wrapped about her upper arm. Holding it up to the mirror, she felt a pit in her stomach. It had been a week since her accident in the lab, and what had only been a tiny mark caused by a single drop of spilled chemicals had only grown ever since, now taking two adjacent strips of gauze to cover. However, that wasn’t even the strangest thing.

What was truly baffling, and what she was hesitant about showing to a doctor, was how the mark didn’t look anything like what a burn mark was supposed to. The affected skin looked rosy, like the cheeks of someone who just walked in from the cold, which was to be expected, but it didn’t look nearly as irritated or splotchy as a burn ought to have otherwise been. Instead, the growing spot of her skin had a light sheen to it, and had become incredibly smooth. The spot radiated with heat. She tried prodding at it with a fingertip, and felt a jolt of sensation. Not pain, but… something else. She didn’t know what to make of it. Carefully tying on some new strips of gauze, Sierra left the bathroom sit in her apartment living room.

She clicked on the TV. After the accident, she had been excused from the lab and received full credit in compensation; the semester ended with her once again receiving top marks. Jared and the cheerleader got together, then broke up 4 days later. She didn’t care. The deep-seated infatuation she had with him died the moment he couldn’t even bother to remember her name. All she had done since was sit in her room and try and let the memory of the event, like the spot on her arm, fade away completely as she waited for break to end and the next round of classes to start.

Sierra rolled over, lying down horizontally across the width of the couch. She shuffled restlessly, than flipped to her other side, trying to reach a position that was comfortable, but in doing so unthinkingly fell directly on the injured arm. She felt a sharp sting as the spot brushed the rough fabric of the couch, and a rush of warmth spread through her limbs. She began to panic. Worried about whether or not she had agitated the burn mark, she ran back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her skin felt as if it was on fire. Reaching over with her left hand, she began to untie the bandages, grimly noticing that the patch of shiny, smooth skin had already spread out beyond the coverings she had provided. It was growing faster.

Her entire body seemed to throb alongside her heartbeat. Her head felt light, as if she hadn’t slept for days. She tore off the last of the bandages and looked at her arm. The glossy area was growing at a visible rate now, and soon covered her upper arm with its inhumanly smooth, clear texture.

Her heartbeat was pounding.

Sierra turned on the cold water tap, and began rinsing down the angrily growing spot, hoping to soothe the pulsating heat emanating off of her. Her entire arm felt heavy as the spot closed over her fingertips, finishing the conversion of her entire limb. She tried to raise her arm, but it felt as if hands were running along its entire length, pulling it down towards the floor. In the neckhole of her shirt, she could see the rosy texture pass over her chest. The warmth spread into her other arm, her legs, her chest- then crept up her neck. The uneven tones and blemishes on her face smoothed over beneath a uniform shine.

The last few isolated patches of skin succumbed to the creeping change, raising to the top of her head before dissipating among her strands of hair. They looked fuller, thicker; the frizzy bedhead she had woken up with now cascaded down in waves, looking lush and well-conditioned. The heat began to taper, the feverish rush coursing through her veins dying down. Her deep breathing relaxed. She strained to put her arm against her chest, feeling her heartbeat pulse calmly beneath. Things seemed alright.

But then the pulse stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat, expecting to see the light at the end of the tunnel at any moment. Stupid, she thought to herself. One dumb accident caused by her starry-eyed desires was going to result in her own death. What a way to go.

She realized she hadn’t taken another breath.

Stumbling a few steps backwards, she leaned against the wall, slumping down into a seated position. Her body felt heavier, looser- more relaxed in a way. She supposed that’s what usually happens right before someone kicks the bucket.

And you never scored.

Sierra’s eyes fell closed.

Don’t remind me, she thought.



Several hours had passed. It was some ungodly hour of the night by the time Sierra finally awoke.

Drama queen. You didn’t even die.

Couldn’t rule that out though. Were there any mythologies whose afterlives involved waking up in a replica of your own home? She hadn’t seemed to have moved since she passed out. Noticing her continued lack of breath or pulse, she began noting the sluggishness she felt in her body. Dead or not, something still was going on within her. She looked down.

Her entire body beneath her neck, limbs and all, had deformed into a semi-solid blob of the rosy, glossy texture that had consumed her skin.

She was dead. That had to be the case. It was too outlandish to assume anything else.

Her sense of touch hadn’t gone. Even with no real features to speak of, she could feel everything her amorphous form was touching: her clothes, which merely rested on her surface, the wall behind her, and the floor, which she could feel herself gradually spreading across, the weight of her own body pressing her into the floor.

You’re not dead. Just changed. Are you going to at least TRY to figure out what’s going on? Or are you just going to sit here until the landlord barges in and demands rent from a viscous puddle?

Sierra thought about moving. Just the idea of motion in general- anything would be a start. The idea of opening a closed fist flashed through her mind, and she felt her body stir.

Fingers- four of them, with an accompanying thumb, sprouted on the left side of her body, near the point where her neck flowed into what should have been defined shoulders. She flexed her new digits, and found herself able to manipulate them as easily as she ever had before.

You see what your body is doing- what it’s become. Surely a prospective chemist such as yourself can recognize something as mundane as putty.

Putty.

Was that really what she was? She pressed her newly-formed thumb and index fingertips together. As she pushed, the upper joints of both bent backwards, far past where they should have, before merging together into a closed loop. With another thought, she pulled them apart, separating roughly before rounding themselves off as if nothing had ever happened.

Putty, clay- whatever she was- she was malleable, and seemed to have some aspect of control over herself. She could be shaped, which meant that she could return herself to normal, or at least human-shaped.

Or better.

Brushing aside that thought, Sierra thought about reaching out to grab an item off of the bathroom counter in front of her, clenching a hairbrush in between her fingers. Her body complied, shaping and smoothing itself until she had a full arm attached to her fingers. She could work with this. Moving her attention to the other side, she envisioned her other arm reforming and mirroring its partner, which it did, even swifter than before. Filled with the comforting feeling of two arms by her side once again, she prodded at her still unmade torso.

None of the terms she had come up with truly reflected the tactile feeling her body now possessed. Consistency-wise, clay was an apt term. A single finger poking directly into herself felt no more resistance than she would have felt when she had played with a tub of playdough as a child. But it still didn’t seem right; her body seemed far too smooth and far too cohesive to actually be considered that similar to the earthen material, and the extent of her malleability seemed too advanced to be compared to more solid substances like rubber- or even putty as she had initially thought.  She truly did feel as if her own body had simply unified and softened into an entirely new substance never before seen on earth; limitlessly pliable, smooth as the surface of a balloon, while also as warm and soft as the feeling of delicate, healthy skin.

Stick with calling it putty. It sounds… enticing.

With a thought, the dents and folds from her playing with her own torso filled in with fresh material, smoothing out the gaps and leaving her skin like new once again. Shaping herself was easy; provided she had an idea and a vision of what she wanted in her mind, her body seemed to grasp how to get from where it was to where it wanted to be with minimal effort. Though at the moment, there was only one form she wanted to take: her own.

She was no longer terrified of what had happened to her. It was a big change, but nothing she couldn’t handle. In terms of freakish sci-fi mutations, it would certainly be easier to still live a normal life with this strange putty body than, say, turning into Godzilla.

But is that seriously what you would want to do with the gift you’ve been given?

For the moment, yes. Sierra was quite sure that for the time present, normalcy was her goal. She was certain she could easily continue on with her life as if nothing had happened, it was just a matter of putting on the right makeup, remembering to breathe, and making sure nobody ever touched her.

Ever.

Sounds like torture.

Ignoring that idea, Sierra focused on her legs next, envisioning her current form as a manner of kneeling and then telling herself to “stand up”. It seemed to do the trick, as the thick columns of her legs poured through her pant legs before filling them out with and stabilizing. She then actually stood up, expecting some sorts of pins and needles, but it seemed her body was above such inconveniences now.

One thing left to sculpt… but you could make it so much better than it ever was…

Sierra put her hands on the area where her midriff ought to have been. She was beginning to become frustrated with her own impulsive thoughts. This really wasn’t something to be playing around with. It was a serious mutation of her physical form, and to take irresponsible risks by screwing around could result in-

What, getting hurt? You’re a lump of semi-solid goo. You just bent, fused, and ripped apart your fingers, and it did nothing.

You’re just scared to have fun with it.

Scared? She wasn’t scared, it was responsible! She muttered to the empty room, trying to convince herself of her own rationalizations.

“I-I’m not some comic book character; I’m just a plain, boring student!"

WERE a plain, boring student. You’re not anymore. You now can be whatever you want to be.

Who was she even arguing with? Had she been possessed?

There’s nobody else here. You’re just simply vocalizing what you REALLY want from life.

Sierra’s neck slid slightly to the left as a small bulge formed adjacent on the right. Ballooning into a rough spherical shape, the mass lifted itself upwards on a neck of its own. Facial features mirroring the head neighboring it grew into place, yet as they settled, they seemed to exude far more beauty and confidence than their original counterparts. Thick locks of hair grew in atop her, fluidly styling themselves into professional-looking waves that poured over her shoulders. This new head smiled, parting her perfectly full lips with dazzling white teeth.

“The devil on your shoulder, so to say.”

Sierra stared in shock at this sudden growth. This voice… this idea-made-flesh…  was simply herself. She knew these tempting thoughts were her own, she just didn’t want to believe it.

“I think you’re starting to get the point. You don’t have to repress these thoughts any longer. You can do anything now.”

Anything.

Sierra felt the space underneath her shoulders twitch. Sprouting from each side, two new arms grew into place. The two new limbs then braided themselves about the originals, coiling around one another in a warm embrace.

“You’re smart. You’ve put it together. This isn’t just a matter of being you, but softer- your body can be changed into whatever you desire it to be…”

Her coiled arms wrapped around to the front of her chest, feeling the material she had to work with, stripping away her shirt from the surface of the untampered mass her torso consisted of. Two hands gathered up parts of her body, sculpting themselves into the mounds of breasts, as the other two spread apart, smoothing the rippled flesh of her body into a more supple form, carefully molding smooth curves she never could have imagined on herself before. Catching her own gaze in the mirror, she was stunned- not only because of the two heads and four arms, but of the gorgeous figure she had remolded herself into.

“No… I shouldn’t do this… it’s- it’s-”

“What, not true to yourself? You think a wilting wallflower of a girl is what you still are? You’ve changed. You’re a goddess among women. You can be anyone you want. To think that you couldn’t be improved upon seems to fairly vain in it’s own right.”

A sound of fabric caught her ears, seeing her pants collapse to the floor, no longer fitting the slender frame of her body she had taken. She stood in awe of her exposed figure- glossy, flawless, wrapped about in her own ropy appendages, yet also somewhat featureless, lacking either both her nipples and her sex. She was no longer human.

She was better.

And she loved it.

“You’re already teeming with ideas, aren’t you? Those fantasies, long discarded as impossible, those times you’ve seen characters change shape in movies- you’ve always wondered what it would be like. How it would feel to have your form be as boundlessly free as them.”

Between her two heads, a fissure formed. It grew down her midsection, as she felt her torso begin distancing itself from its other half while it split in two. From some inexplicable source, more of her malleable body filled in upon the cleavage, replicating on each half the half that was missing. Upon one set of legs, two full torsos had formed- two figures sharing a single body.

Finishing the reformation of each of her new upper halves, with one of the two arms on each body shifting about her torso to the other side, she embraced herself, swiveling on a flexible midriff as the arms of each body began lengthening and stretching about the other. Locked in her own embrace, one head neared another and she was soon locking lips with her own self. Her single pair of legs began walking themselves out of the bathroom and over to her couch, where they lay her whole body down, laying in wait as her upper halves continued to explore every inch of each other’s forms.

She knew she would have to separate her halves momentarily, if only to go about granting herself a form with which to pleasure herself even further. Rushes of hedonistic inspiration jolted through her mind unrestricted, and she would need her arms free to set them into her own body.

Do you, though?

No, she realized, she didn’t. It was so easy, but she had almost neglected thinking about it entirely. A mere thought later, and another arm grew from the torso connected to her original head, beneath the original arm just as it had before. The limb snaked its way about her enwrapped form, slipping between the loops her arms made between herselves. Sliding between her chests which pressed into one another, her hand finally came to a rest upon her their shared waist, resting on the end of a 5 foot arm that coiled about every other part of her body.

With two fingers, the newest hand pushed itself into the lowest part of her waist. Her flesh was uniform, but it knew what it was being used for, and shocked both of her bodies immediately with an intoxicating ecstasy. Her soft form quivered, and she already felt as if the detailed limbs and digits she had bought into being would soon collapse under their own experiences of pleasure. She flexed her wrist down, and carved out the small fingertip-sized hole into a deep slit. Both of her heads moaned softly. The tongue of one lolled out of her mouth, drooping down to lazily wrap about a single tit, while the other held on to a sense of fleeting restraint, but could still feel the limber muscle swell in her mouth, desiring to burst free.

Her hand trembled, her fingers far too softened to even pretend like they had joints as they waved loosely. Her slit lay invitingly. She desperately looked for the endpoint of any one of the four other arms wrapped around her. Once one was located, she took her one free arm over to it, and began sculpting the free hand. The fingers were pressed together, the width of the hand compressed down, and the entire appendage was rolled down into a long tube, tapering off with a bulging, rounded tip. Armed with a new member, she penetrated her newly opened slit.

It didn’t really fit at first; her reshaped hand was too big, and her hastily carved too small, but the parts her achingly soft body simply squeezed together, and soon enough she had taken nearly a foot of her own phallic fingers into herself. As her hand passed through, the lips of her improvised sex tightened, vacuum sealing herself inside. A trickle of lubricant seeped inside of her as she began pumping, slicking the plastic-like walls of her innards into an absolutely taut membrane. The tip of her arm swelled as she filled the small space she had created, then began expanding further, stretching out the confines of her own homogeneous innards. She pushed herself as far as she could go, her body a tangled mess of limbs that quaked with every thrust of her arm. Any way she pushed on herself, her body complied, stretching out and heightening in pleasure as she pumped more and more.

She came, both of her heads moaning in unison. Waves of sensation rippled over her pliable body, and she tensed in response. Her arms tightened, and her breasts pressed closed together until she pushed both of her torsos back into one another. One arm on each side slid back into her body, and both of her heads slumped back as she lay on the couch, wiped from the titanic amount of feedback her masturbation had provided.



When her eyes cracked open yet again, it was morning. The sunlight pouring through the windows caught on her gleaming skin, filling the room with a glare and immediately putting to rest any thoughts that what she had felt was a dream. With a simple motion, she reached several feet across the room and turned off the light that had been left on all night.
All was calm in the apartment. There was no intrusive thoughts, no nagging voice in the back of her mind. She had truly embraced her new form.

“Anyone I want to be…”

She knew now what she wanted. Pleasure. As much as she could get, however she could get it. Her other goals could come later- she had been given an incredible gift, and was going to use it however she pleased. With a wicked grin she reformed her hand into a dick-like shape once again, before reforming her dainty fingers. While she certainly wasn’t opposed to a round two, she desired more. She was a changed woman, and knew now that a wealth of opportunity was hers for the taking.
All she had to do was take the right form.

A glance at a nearby fashion magazine cover was all she needed for inspiration. The plain features on her face angled and sharpened, growing in the high cheekbones and piercing eyes of a runway model. Her frame filled with deep curves and a flaring waist. Her hair lengthened, running down her back and curling. In a matter of seconds, her malleable form had replicated the look of the star on the cover precisely, with one exception. Her current skin tone paled in comparison to the sun kissed caramel beauty that she desired.

Nothing her new body couldn’t fix. With a quick stretch over to her closet, she pulled out a can of dark brown paint from her last home redecorating progress, and tipped the entire bucket down her throat. The liquid pooled in a pit within the uniform mass of her body, already darkening part of her insides to the tan she desired.

Now it was just a matter of getting that color out.

Grabbing hold of her own breasts, she began kneading at her own body, pulling and tugging at the soft folds of her flesh before plunging and folding them back in. Streaks of a darker shade coursed through her, marbling her complexion as she worked the concentrated pigment throughout her skin. Hand over hand she worked over herself, nearly bringing herself to the point of climax through the action of her self-induced massage alone.

After nearly 10 minutes of working herself nearly into a mass nearly as formless as she had awoken to several hours earlier, she had done it. Her skin glowed with the tan of someone who had lived for years on the sunny Mediterranean shores, basking under a sun on the shores of a beach she had never visited. Her body pulled itself together in a mere split second, as she began to dress herself. Her old clothes were meant for someone with a bit more weight then she currently had, but it was nothing a little filling out of her figure in the right places couldn’t fix.

Armed with the body of her dreams, she pulled out her phone, and quickly downloaded a dating app. She had never used one before, having been too afraid of the prospect of being completely ignored. But now, she was unignorable, her body having been transformed into one of a goddess.

And a goddess deserved a new name, even if only to put the old one behind her. With a quick photograph of herself, she began to fill out the dating profile.



Lera Stone – 22.
Volleyball Team – Springfield State College
Intern at The Willows Massage Therapy Studio
Soft on the inside AND the outside :)