Chapters An Artist's Masterpiece Book 1 Chapter 3
When Emily awoke, she nearly tasted the delightful tea she had just…a great concern came over her as she tried to remember what happened after the autonurse fed her that drink. It was only then that the feelings in her body came to her attention. Eyes shooting open, Emily looked down to see what the source of that otherworldly ache was when she discovered more than she bargained for!
Sitting on her previously flat chest, above the night stays she had just begun wearing, were the breasts of a naturally well-endowed woman. Emily started to wonder how long she had been asleep, no not asleep, sedated! From her studies in the sciences, artificial growth procedures like this took days, not hours. Touching herself, she noticed a smoothness to her skin like never before, and on further inspection found the stubble near her womanly folds to be completely gone! This was well beyond what she had signed up for with Mr. Battersby and as his wife she was going to assert her place. How would the university treat her if she looked like a spoiled Lady?
Swinging her smooth legs out of bed and rising to stand, Emily found her balance off. Not only because of her new breasts, but because when she rose, she found herself a few inches taller than before! Looking down, she could almost forget the widened shape of her hips as she tried to lower her heels to the floor. Try as she might, a sudden tightness in her ankle and calf kept her heel up. Permanently on her tip toes, Emily stumbled a bit in her large ward room until she found a wall to cling to. Following the wall she rounded the corner to her private bathroom, simply for some water to splash on her face; to tell herself that she was okay, that she was still Emily, the plain, smart girl from Devonshire.
The autonurse found her on the floor of her bathroom, brought her back to bed, and wirelessly alerted the Head Nurse, Doctor, and her husband that Emily was awake. She lay there, still slightly aching, thinking of the lipstick, the rouge, the shadowing, the pale visage that had greeted her when she had looked in the mirror. The makeup, the full eyelashes, they had not come off as she washed. The nurse had no time for her self-pity, as the womanly robot started her daily physical therapy, stretching her legs to adapt to the modified calf muscles and tendons keeping her feet en pointe. Emily was not in the mood and tried to fight the machine off, but only ended up having her newly-manicured hands tied to the bed while the autonurse continued her routine for the next 30 minutes.
It was then that her husband Humphrey and a Doctor walked in. “That’s enough 112, untie this young lady please.” Freed of her wrist restraints, Emily had half a thought to give Humphrey her mind, but knew that in the Doctor’s presence this would be impolite and disrespectful to both of them. Doctor Eaton as he was called walked up to the bedside with her chart on his tablet, while the autonurse stood at attention in the corner. Emily couldn’t help but notice her husband admiring the robot out of the corner of her eye as the good doctor explained to her the “routine procedures” which had transpired over the last 10 days.
Like she had noted herself earlier in shock, she had received a generous dosage of hormonally-triggered gene therapy to her breasts and behind (“Much more refined than the implants and simple hormones of last century”). The doctor confirmed her fears that the calf surgery had been very successful, and that as most Ladies do these days, she would have to begin wearing heels even higher than on her wedding night to support her new physique. Last but not least she had been treated to the finest plastic spa in the city, and because they were in London, the country. Gone was any chance of hair growth save for on her head, and her skin had been treated with chemical lotions and salves to give it a sensitive, smooth lustre. Last but not least was a light coating of semi-permanent makeup, at the height of fashion she was assured, so even when alone and unprepared she could be stylish for her husband. “All the time and effort your husband says you spent on books instead of beauty is now recovered! Take this as a second chance.” Emily meekly thanked the doctor, before the autonurse was commanded to prepare her for the journey home. “The new outfits, not the old,” her husband added, before winking and leaving the room.