Cora's High School Reunion, new section!

If you followed this last month, Page 4 is the new addition!

Cora’s High School Reunion

Written by HarmonyMotion with ABG

Illustrated by ABG

Page 1

The dull sound of wood on wood, digitally reproduced, reverberated from Cora’s phone as the glow of her touch screen illuminated the dark space underneath her desk. She held the thing between her legs, scooched forward to hide her phone from view, while beads of sweat formed on her dark brow. There was some background din—no doubt some office conversation, but it seemed to be louder than usual—but Cora’s arm jerked back and forth, rubbing against the front lip of the desk as she chewed her lip.

Her phone vibrated. Fifteen seconds left.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

“Shit shit shit!” Cora hissed. Her finger hesitated, then slipped repeatedly, as she tried to capture her opponent’s pawn after an unexpected move. If she could just queen now...

A dialog box popped up. She was out of time. Her opponent won the match.

Cora heaved with resignation, the tension finally deflating out of her flabby body. She could’ve sworn that she heard someone’s tongue click in disappointment. When she looked up, the recently all too familiar sight of Stacy’s backside sashayed away from her.

She grit her teeth.

The black woman stared in open jealousy at the blonde’s stunning backside. How did a white girl have so much cake? And she knew how to use it too.

Really, it was too stereotypical. Stacy, young, fresh out of college, long flaxen ponytail that always seemed to be shiny and lustrous, whipping about as the new professional herself hustled around the office, smiling and being bubbly with everyone...

While Cora herself, approaching 40, stuck in the same job for the last fifteen, and now watching this young woman get hired and on the verge of jumping over Cora within just under a year...

Cora sighed. It didn’t occur to her that this pattern had been ongoing for well over a decade now. Her sights and her jealous ire took aim at only her newest tormentress Stacy. 

She herself had been such a specimen in high school. Fit and athletic, with a nice pair of perky tits to boot. It made cross country more difficult, but that was a trade off she was willing to accept. Cora loved flaunting her body, teasing the football players while also being known for having a brain as well. She was the highest rated player and led their chess club, getting admittedly mediocre results at the inter-school competitions. They were teenage International Masters after all—the fact that Cora sometimes made a draw with them was good enough for her. And these kids dedicated their time to playing and studying chess. As far as Cora was concerned, she was more than happy with her combination of brains and beauty.

Then, she scraped by college. Her freshman fifteen turned into a sophomore thirty, and soon she stopped paying attention to it out of necessity for her own mental state. She spent her time getting average grades, fooling around by playing average chess, and running once in a while, wondering why she couldn’t post times like she had in high school. All while she resented still being with her high school boyfriend who had chosen not to attend college seemed to be happy with his own life, while her unfaithful attempts to attract a new mate proved entirely unsuccessful.

Stacy had disappeared from view. Cora looked at her work calendar on her computer and the orders she needed to put in, had needed to put in for the office, since last week. Many of the overdue tasks, Stacy had done already.

Fuck it. Let that blonde with the devilish curves do it. She’d be promoted out of here soon enough.

Cora’s Facebook sent a notification. A high school reunion, 20 years in the making.

...

Ugh.

Cora started up another game of chess.

Page 2

After 3 more wins and 3 more losses playing online bullet chess, Cora pushed her way into an overstuffed city transit. Everyone groaned and grunted as they made way for her bulk, and she spent 30 agonizing minutes standing in that unwashed pile of salarymen and women, hoping that a seat would open up and she would be able to snatch it.

No seat opened.

Finally, the train arrived at her stop. She exited and smoothed her top and skirt, lamenting that her breasts, those twin orbs of sexuality in her high school years, had lost their luster and now sagged on her chest. She crinkled her nose. It was the familiar smell of human body odor and other synthetic chemicals like shoe polish and leather treatment oil. It was a ten minute walk home, and she wore crocs like she always did, but decided, once again, to hail a ride.

When she got home, the familiar sound of her husband Lance, scrolling away on his mouse wheel on their 15 year old computer greeted her.

“Hey babe,” he greeted her heavy footsteps without looking back.

Cora looked at the computer screen, her face emotionless. He was looking at Instagram models, as usual. All of them fit, sexy, and with huge tits. It didn’t matter that she told him they were fakes. He couldn’t tell, or he didn’t care.

“How was work?” he asked.

“Same old. Stacy is a total bitch. She’s sabotaging me,” Cora began.

“Aw, sorry,” he closed the browser and got up from his chair. “Hey, I brought fried chicken and slaw and stuff for dinner. The stuff you like.”

“I should lose weight,” Cora lamented.

“You sure?” Lance looked at her, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

“....Well, maybe tomorrow. That chicken looks good.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

The pair sat down on the couch in front of the coffee table while Cora ripped and tore at her chicken, salaciously licking her greasy fingers while the couple watched Love Island. Cora admired the men’s bodies, distracting her from her jealousy of the women on the show. It always got her in the mood. And truth be told, Lance was built. He had never stopped hitting the gym, even after his high school football days.

“Hey Lance... you wanna have sex tonight?” Cora asked.

“Ah sorry babe, I’m really tired. Got a job at 7:00 AM tomorrow morning too.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“You wanna clean up here? I’m gonna shower and go to bed.”

“Okay.”

Cora ate all of the rest of the food, deep into the night, then threw all the paper boxes and swept all the crumbs into the trash can. When she got to bed, Lance was fast asleep.

Page 3

Cora slept with all the peace and serenity of an operating industrial sawmill. She barely roused when Lance made his usual departure to sleep on the couch, which conveniently offered him the privacy to masturbate to any of the influencers he had been checking out. If Cora woke, he would know it from the sudden decibel drop.

He finished quickly and surreptitiously, then drifted off into his own dreamless sleep. If he had stayed awake for another thirty minutes, he would have heard, or not heard, a very strange phenomenon indeed. Cora’s raucous snoring growing softer and softer.

And as tremendous of an event that was, her diminishing snoring was only the side effect of what was happening to his overweight, listless, feckless wife.

A warmth burned in the core of her body, the center of her flabby belly, as layers of fat disintegrated to nothing. Layers and layers of stretch marks reversed as her abs flattened, each pebbled muscle looking even more sculpted and finer than they had in her prime. Her flesh was remade, forged anew, looking better than either genetics or a lifetime of exercise could produce.

And beyond just her impressive sudden core strength, her waist cinched, sucking inward, giving Cora a devastatingly sexy hourglass shape. Her tapered midsection was so waifish, it looked out of place in juxtaposition to her heavy, sagging breasts and her chubby backside.

That was about to change.

Cora moaned as she dreamed a lovely dream, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. People were admiring her, desiring her... and she reveled in it.

The warmth spread both up and down her body simultaneously, splitting its attention while not diminishing its effect in the slightest. 

The excess fat similarly melted away from her upper body, leaving her arms looking long, strong, and supple, as if carved by a master sculptor. Her breasts, already large, regained some of their youthful perkiness—something a good bra would do wonders with, pushing up her twin moons, leaving a chocolate canyon of desire right in their erotic center. Her flabby neck disappeared as if Cora had simply taken off a prosthetic, revealing her beautiful sharply defined collarbones and long, elegant neck beneath.

Meanwhile, her lower body received the same loving treatment. The stretch marks on her cottage cheese thighs seemed to tighten on command, leaving only smooth, polished skin behind as if it had simply been pulled taut. And even though her velvet skin was now smooth and silken to the touch, her flabby thighs continued to shrink like play-doh, as if they were being molded. Instead of wide and unsightly, both of her legs lengthened and slimmed, leaving a mouth watering thigh gap between her now voluptuous and athletic legs.

Her butt had not been ignored, either. Each hemisphere tightened and lifted, giving her a beautiful spherical projection that just popped from her backside that would make any celebrity or influencer jealous. It wasn’t that it was large—and it was large—her ass was also perfectly shaped, strong and tight. It looked as if bullets would bounce right off of her lascivious flesh.

Her knees straightened out, magnifying the impressive lengthy appearance of her already lengthening legs. Her calves bulged with muscle, with no excess trace of fat. As if she’d been running long distance her whole life.

Her ankles were neat and cute, any imperfect ashy skin flaking away. And if her legs looked like the ideal cross between a runner’s and model’s legs, well, her feet showed no sign of the abuse that came with either profession. Small and dainty, her toes were perfectly spaced, even and cute, her toenails looking as if they had been given a master pedicure with a shiny gloss and a healthy pink sheen. Her arches were curved like Greek architecture, and the paler soles of her feet were smooth and fragrant.

And through it all, in her dreams, she could only admire her new body. But her face was the most strikingly, devilishly seductive part of her new irresistible package. Her face had been sculpted by invisible hands, her features refined and perfected. The wrinkles, the crows nests that had once told the story of her unremarkable life had disappeared, leaving only smooth, glossy skin. Her cheeks had lost their fullness, revealing high cheekbones that cast shadows in the dim light. Her nose had become a straight line, a bridge to her now thick, plump, inviting lips. And her eyes... there was something about her eyes. But she didn’t know what.

Cora’s chest heaved, rising and falling completely silently now as she finished her slumber.

Page 4

Cora awoke from her sleep, somehow feeling bright eyed and ready to go, unlike her usual groggy self. She checked the beside clock. It was 8:00 AM. Earlier than she woke up on a weekend... strange.

Lance was probably out for the day already. Cora instinctively rubbed the sleep from her eyes, still marveling at how alert her mind and how clear her vision was. Swinging her legs out from under the blanket to dangle off the side of the bed, she looked at those unfamiliar limbs for a few moments. Then screamed.

Those legs... they couldn’t be hers! She covered her mouth and hyperventilated into her hand, not realizing how different her arms and fingers looked and felt either. All she could focus on was her legs. Where was all of the flabby flesh that she was used to carrying around? The random marks of imperfection on her skin, the unsightly stretch marks that dotted her inner thighs and more... what happened?

Instead, what she was looking at was a pair of slim yet athletic legs, all while being run through a filter to perfect and airbrush the look of her chocolate skin. Cora swung her legs, rubbing her satin skin against the far coarser sheets. They felt real. Real, and incredible.

Swinging her legs, Cora caught a glimpse of her slim ankles and her cute feet and dainty toes. She wiggled her digits—this was absurd! No callouses, no imperfections, just smooth flawless skin and sexy nails, looking as if they’d just received a perfect pedicure. With a flex, Cora extended those long, foreign legs and leapt out of bed with the grace of a gazelle—something she hadn’t experienced since her high school years.

Her disused, full length mirror lay in the corner of the room, collecting dust behind piles of discarded clothing, used delivery boxes, and other dreck. Excitedly, Cora grabbed a hand towel and swiped it a few times through the running water, already noticing further changes: her pudgy hands now looked long, lean, and elegant, and her nails, just like her toes, seemed to have received the attention of Da Vinci himself. If he were a nail technician, anyway.

She couldn’t wait to see her new changes.

Squatting down and running the damp towel over the reflective glass, Cora could even feel the changes in her body before witnessing the hopefully youthful visage that would greet her. The way her arm moved so effortlessly, without the flapping flab of extra weight in her upper arm... she could hardly wait. It was like she was the star athlete of her youth once again!

And after a few damp wipes of the mirror, she wasn’t disappointed.

The extra, unsightly flesh on her face had melted away, the lines of her chin neat and tucked, her neck slender and graceful. She hadn’t even put on makeup, but her face radiated a healthy glow, her skin smooth and supple, shining as the morning sun danced over her sharpened, polished facial features. 

Her lips involuntarily curled into a smile as she witnessed herself, and the sight of her perfect, gleaming teeth and the charm of her happy expression almost took her own breath away! A deep, warbling laugh emerged from her throat as she leaned in to examine herself critically. Hair? Sleek and shiny. And tangle free somehow, despite her having just woken up.

Her nose, button cute and charming. Cheeks, modelesque and elegant, somehow simultaneously youthful yet sophisticated. Her brown eyes seemed larger, brighter... maybe because she didn’t have red veins running through her sclera or dark bags underneath them. All of the unsightly wrinkles that had built up on the corners of her eyes and lips, replaced by smooth, sleek, satin skin. Even her breathing felt unlabored—Lance had long since stopped sleeping in the same room ever since she’d put on weight and started snoring.

Speaking of... Cora finally stepped back to take a look at the whole picture. She crossed her hands in front of her body and took off the raggedy top that she slept in. And then audibly gasped at the woman before her.

The first place she looked was her waist—thinner, narrower, and no more love handles. Cora nearly whooped with joy as she ran her newly more feminine hands down its sides, excited for a brief moment. But only a moment. Why couldn’t it be even more tapered, more cinched? If this was a dream (and she dearly hoped it wasn’t), then why was her imagination letting her down so damn badly?

Her breasts had become smaller as well, due to her overall (and dramatically needed) magical overnight weight loss. Cora couldn’t deny that they looked better as she cupped them with her large palms and long fingers. Nicely rounded, well shaped, perky, maybe even unbelievably so, like in her teen years. But why so small? Well, relatively small, anyway. Small, compared to what she could imagine. And honey, she thought to herself, I can imagine quite a bit. She needed them to overflow her hands, dammit! All while retaining that beautiful gravity defying perk. And not causing her any back pain. Was that so much to ask?

Tracing her hands down her admittedly nice and flat tummy to which she had no complaints, Cora’s skin tingled as her fingers moved past her hips (which she wished were wider, of course), and slid her boy shorts down her sleek, athletic thighs. They were long, lean, and just as awesome as she’d imagined when she first saw her legs when she woke up. Even her intimate folds seem to have been given a makeover: smooth, hairless, and an even, mouth-watering milk chocolate color all around.

She turned to check out her backside. “Meh,” she declared, looking at her athletic ass. It could definitely use more mass. Just like her breasts, Cora liked the shape. There just needed to be more. More curves, more spherical goodness, more exaggerated sexual allure.

Kicking off the gray pajamas that had pooled by her ankles, Cora went to her closet, quickly realizing that nothing of her current wardrobe would fit her anymore. She must have just shed, what, 40 pounds? More? But what was she going to do? Go outside naked? She had to put something on, even if it would make her look like a child dressed in adult clothing.

Grabbing an old sleeveless top, something she hadn’t worn in a long time, Cora slid it over her head. To her surprise, the yellow tank seemed to fit over her body like a second skin. She put on her glasses just to be sure she was seeing clearly. Left and right she twisted, marveling at her sculpted arms, pinching the tight cotton fabric adhering to her tummy and gave it a tug. Her shirt looked as if it had a mind of its own, actively wanting to conform to the contours of her body. As soon as she stopped pinching and pulling it away, her top clung back to her like a second skin.

Cora snatched a pair of shorts next. She made sure to measure it against herself by placing it in front of her lower body. Sure enough, the waist band was much larger, the pant legs roomy with tons of give. By all rights, Cora didn’t think she could even wear it without it slipping off. But raising one leg after the other (and noticing her shockingly good balance), she slipped it on, pulled it up, and it seemed to suck inward as she slid it on, like a plastic bag being vacuum sealed.

Standing there in her navy blue shorts and yellow tank with her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, Cora spent a good fifteen minutes admiring every marvelous inch of her body. She tried putting on a burly, shapeless jacket. It too, sucked into her body to fit perfectly. When she took it off, it returned to its shapeless form.

Cora stood there and pondered the ugly garment. It was nice that it looked nice on her... but she wanted to feel sexy too. And her current wardrobe did not feel sexy.

It was time to go shopping.