Hero in the Making [Man to Albino Woman TG] - Part 3

Commissioned Anonymously 

Part 3

I woke up the next morning with a strange feeling; multiple strange feelings, really. The first was the way my hips dug into the mattress, the second was the feeling of sweat between my breasts, but the third was something a little less physical. It was some sort of strange instinct that made me wake instantly, sending an unsettling shiver down my spine. For a moment, I was back in high school, sure everybody’s judgmental eyes were on me. 

My eyes snapped open and instantly locked with Keith’s, who was lying on the twin bed across from me.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

For some reason, he found that greeting funny enough to snort. 

“Dude, were you watching me sleep?”

“I was awake.” He shrugged, “I guess I wanted to see if this was going to stick around.”

He indicated to my new body, which was just as curvy and tall as it had been yesterday. The tips of my toes were sticking off the end of the mattress. Just how tall was I? I had to be at least seven feet tall by now, at the very least, I wouldn't look out of place standing with an NBA team. Well, aside from being female. 

I stretched, feeling my spine pop and my back arch. Keith’s eyes went wide as dinner plates, and I shot him a sharp look.

“What? You were literally moaning and stretching right in front of me. What was I supposed to do? Not look?”

He had a point. I shrugged and forced myself to my feet, wobbling slightly. I was still getting used to my new centre of balance. It almost felt like my butt and breasts had gotten more prominent since yesterday; I thought that couldn’t be true. The body suit and armour still fit perfectly, so perfectly in fact that I’d fallen asleep in it. After everything I’d gone through yesterday, I’d been too tired to take it off. Not that I could have anyway; none of my old clothes would fit this frame. 

I peeled off the body suit and sighed in relief as it hit the floor. Steam was slowly fogging the mirror, but I caught a glimpse of my reflection before it blurred; pale, curvy, female. It felt wrong, like I was looking through a mirror into some poor woman’s bathroom, not a mirror. The water was hot and made my skin tingle as it rolled down my curves. Something as simple as taking a shower felt so different in this body. I could feel the drips moving down the cleft of my ass and between my breasts. It felt almost naughty, like I was somehow watching a stranger shower, not myself. 

I ran my hands over my arms, waiting for the paint to wash away, only…it didn’t. I scrubbed a little harder, digging my nails in hard enough that they left light pink trails behind them, but still nothing. No powder under my nails, so swirling white paint around the drain. My skin was white; naturally white. 

“What?”

I turned off the shower and rubbed a towel over the mirror, brow furrowing as I examined my reflection. I had definitely been wearing make-up yesterday, and yet today my skin was naturally pale. My eyelashes were too long, actually, and the red tinge to my eyes couldn't have been from contacts. I held up a bunch of my white hair and sqinted at it; fine, natural, no sign of brown roots anywhere near my skull.

“I’m an actual albino…that’s…does that mean I am still transforming?”

Just when I thought this was over! 

“Hey, Sam? Are you done?”

“Uh, almost! Just a second.”

I quickly jumped back into the body suit, zipping it up over my slightly damp skin and grimacing as my wet hair stuck to the back. Awkwardly, I grabbed a towel and bent over and tried to wrap it around my head the way I’d seen women do in films. The tangled mess fell off immediately. Wet hair it was. 

“Here, your turn,” I muttered.

“All good, I just need to let the dogs out and we can head to the convention centre for day two!”

I forced myself to smile; maybe that’s what I needed, a bit of normalcy. The fact that I could keep an eye out for whatever did this to me would be a bonus. For now, there was nothing I could do to change back, so I might as well try to fill up my merch bags and try to have a good time. 

~

I’d seen plenty of posts online about harassment at conventions. I wasn't an idiot; I knew it was a thing, a few rotten eggs giving us nerds a bad name. I’d always thought women complaining that KaCon and the like didn't make them feel welcome was stupid. Everywhere you went, there were women, cosplayers, booths about female manga, nobody really cared about. Hell, they even had that stupid sexism in character design panel up this year. All in all, I thought the complaints women made about being unwelcome were just a case of overreacting. I’d never felt unwelcome at a convention, especially at KaCon.

Not until today. 

It started small, a strange feeling in the crowd, like a hand over my ass. Only to turn and see nobody there. Then, when I leaned over slightly to get a better look at one of the merch stalls, I heard it, a sharp wolf whistle that I instinctively knew was for me.

I’d always thought a wolf whistle was…crude but harmless. I’d done it once or twice, even. You were basically just saying a girl was hot and you appreciated her. I thought it would be flattering, turns out, it’s humiliating. Instantly, I felt hyper aware of how skin-tight my costume was, of the way it rode up my ass crack slightly and cupped my breasts. I tugged at the fabric self-consciously and felt a blush burn across my cheeks as I stared daggers into the crowd, hoping to find who did it. 

“It’s a compliment,” Keith defended, “Besides, you’re so tall when you bend over like that, your ass is in some people’s faces, I mean, can you blame him?”

‘Ye,s I can.’ I thought privately.

Keith was being weird again, smugly smiling at other guys and winking at women as if walking next to me instantly made him cool. It made my skin crawl; one set of tits, and suddenly, my best friend was treating me like an accessory. 

I’d always thought a wolf whistle was…crude but harmless. IU’d done it once or twice, even. You were basically just saying a girl was hot and you appreciated her. I thought it would be flattering; it turns out, it was humiliating. 

Another phantom hand glided across my ass as we waited in line at another booth, and with speed that surprised even me, I spun around and grabbed a wrist. Turns out the phantom hand wasn't so phantom after all, and I was face to face with a surprisingly…normal looking guy. 

He wasn't some stereotypical pockmarked nerd with thick glasses who had never heard of a shower. He was tall, not nearly as tall as men, but still, with dark hair and a smile that might have been charming had I not just caught him trying to feel me up. I stared at him and felt my throat go dry; what was I supposed to say?

“Were you feeling her up?” Keith said before I got a chance to think of something better.

The man just blushed.

“I didn’t think she’d feel it through the suit; her ass must be really sensitive.”

The man winked at me, and I dropped his hand in disgust. 

“That’s none of your business!” Keith snapped, “You should be ashamed of yourself, asshole. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Keith’s fingers suddenly laced through my own, and we were walking, hand in hand through the crowd. Keith’s head was held higher than I’d ever seen, and he had a proud smile on his face. It made me smile; maybe I’d been a bit too hasty judging him since my change. It had only been a day after all. We moved outside and sat on a bench around the corner, far from the crowds.

“Nobody will bother us here,” Keith said proudly. “Sorry, that guy was being a jerk.”

“It’s not your fault. Thanks for sticking up for me, I sort of froze back there.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” 

He leaned in so our legs were touching, and a strange little alarm bell started sounding in my brain. It was some new instinct I’d never felt, but I quickly dismissed it. Keith was just being nice.

“I guess I haven’t been fair, I thought you were being creepy yesterday, but I guess it takes some adjusting, your best mate turning into this.” I laughed. 

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I won't let other guys bother you.” 

He leaned in again; he was close enough that I could feel the heat from his skin seeping into the costume. He had a strange look on his face, like he was expecting me to say something specific. That little bell got louder, and I leaned back.

“Thanks again anyway.”

Keith’s face fell a little, but he quickly recovered and stood up, offering me a hand up with a dramatic bow.

“Shall we?”

“Uh, sure.”

I couldn’t help but notice him frown as I let go once we started walking. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he wanted to hold hands. 

~

Coming home felt surreal. I had to duck to get through my low doorframe, and walking through the tiny apartment felt wrong, like I was in somebody else's house. My closet was full of clothes that no longer fit, my desk chair didn’t support my now wide ass, it hung off the edges slightly, I even had to adjust the height of my showerhead so that it didn’t spray me straight in the chest. 

I looked around at the space. Sam’s space. My space. If I was going to earn this paycheque as Bianca Black, I was going to need to look the part. Cool as this costume was, I needed new clothes. Normally, I was the sort of person to wear clothes into the ground before buying new ones, but I didn't have much of a choice. 

Walking down to the shopping centre still didn't feel right, especially because I had to wear the Contrast suit. Walking around KaCon dressed in a skin-tight body suit and armour was one thing, but around the normies? I was getting stares, and not just because I was an albino. I still wasn’t used to the weight of my new hips. Every step I took felt just a little wider than the last. The sway came naturally, too naturally. 

I walked through the automatic doors of the clothing store with a mission. One normal outfit; how hard could that be?

I wandered through the women’s section awkwardly at first, but it didn’t take long to find a pair of jeans that hugged my legs without suffocating them. High-waisted and comfy, they hugged the skin and showed off my ass, but there wasn’t much choice. The shop didn’t exactly carry much in my new size. I wanted something to try and hide my figure, but even the baggier shirts struggled to hide my bust; the fabric stretched across my new boobs in such a way that a turtle neck almost looked more obscene than the plain black singlet I ended up going with. 

I held back a blush as I almost walked into the men's dressing room out of habit and kept my eyes on the floor as I walked past the other cubicles in the women’s section. Changing into the shirt and jeans felt…nice. I posed in front of the mirror.

Damn.

A surge of confidence washed through me, I’d never felt so self-assured. I finally understood how it felt to be a woman, to look good and know it every day. No wonder so many of them got conceited. 

I turned to the side. With my bare arms and shoulders showing, I could see just how toned and muscular I was now. Contrast was more than just curves, it seemed; she was ripped. The muscles in my arms and shoulders shifted as I moved. I couldn’t stop staring. I looked, no, I was, strong. Beautiful. Dangerous, even. 

I wore the clothes up to the register and giggled a little as the clerk was forced to lean over and scan the jeans tag just above my ass. I was just handing over my card when it happened. 

A blur of movement to my left, and the clerk’s eyes went wide.

“Hey!”

I turned to see a guy in his late teens, a bag with a fancy designer label slung over his shoulder, price tag still attached. He glanced back over his shoulder and cucked out the door, grabbing a handful of the necklaces on display near the window for good measure before disappearing around the corner. 

Before I could think, my body moved. I was sprinting after him, shocked at my own speed and agility. The tile floor of the shop was slippery, but my balance was perfect. New muscles coiled and released with precision I’d never known before. In seconds, I was out the door and down the sidewalk. The wind whipped my hair back as I gained ground.

“Stop!” I shouted, and to my surprise, my voice rang out, commanding and powerful. It was so unlike what I was used to I almost obeyed my own command. 

The boy looked back, panicked, and turned into an alley. I followed him in even though that little bell in my mind was ringing again. The thief skidded to a stop, realising too late he was cornered as he came face to face with a dead end. He spun around and pulled a knife, his hands shaking.

“Back off!” he barked.

Everything slowed. What on Earth was I doing? Chasing down a thief? I should turn around and go back to the shop, or better yet, just leave. This was none of my business. But some new instinct wouldn’t let me. Instead, my mind raced, examining his grip on the knife, analysing its looseness. He dove forward, and I stepped sideways, then lunged forward, grabbed his wrist, and twisted. The knife clattered to the ground. He yelped, and I pressed him against the brick wall before he could even think of running again.

I froze, my mouth agape; I couldn't believe what I’d just done. It had been so instinctual. A second later, an out-of-breath security guard rounded the corner, panting heavily.

“Well done, ma’am!” 

“It was nothing.” 

I stepped back, suddenly aware of my chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My heart pounded as adrenaline thrummed in my veins. I’d just chased down a thief with a knife; not only that, I’d fought him and won! Handily. I looked down at my hands and flexed my fingers. I’d done that. I had done that…

How the hell had I done that, and why did I have the urge to do it again?

~

A car pulled up outside my apartment block on Monday morning, just as promised. Still, it felt surreal slipping into the plush leather seats. Seth sat opposite me with a wry smile on his face.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” He grinned, “You really are something.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” He laughed, “That robbery you foiled, was that staged? Doesn’t matter, most people will assume so, but the effect will be the same, we’re already working it into the PR for Contrast.”

I blinked at him in shock.

“You know about that?”

Seth rolled his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can stop playing dumb now. Game recognises game. You’re a sneaky one, I respect it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Seth pulled out his phone and opened up a webpage; there was a shaky video showing me disarming the thief from yesterday. 

“Somebody filmed that?” I whispered, “I…I didn’t notice.”

“You really didn’t plan it?” Seth shrugged, “Either way, we’re sharing the video.”

I grabbed the phone from his hand and stared. The official Basco account had shared it, along with some cryptic words about a new albino heroine. Albino heroine.

“Contrast is an albino?” I asked, and Seth nodded.

“Yeah, apparently Basco made the choice over the weekend, maybe because he met you! What luck, finding a seven-foot-tall albino right as he started the story!”

“Heheh…yeah.”

But I hadn’t been an albino when Basco met me. I was sure that when the change first happened, I’d been pale, but in body paint. If Basco had made the change over the weekend, is that what caused me to change as well? The implication made my stomach do a flip. I didn’t like the idea of being at his mercy like that, unwittingly or not. Especially not while he was going through this woke period. 

The car pulled up at a park, and Seth opened the door. I did my best to hide my disappointment; I wasn't sure what I was expecting exactly, stage lights, fancy cameras, a director in those puffy pants, maybe. Not a crew of three, Basco and a kids' softball game happening in the distance. The glare of the sun made my eyes ache, and I could feel the UV soaking into my skin. Maybe I should have put on sunscreen. Basco seemed happy to see me, at least, I had to use that to my advantage. 

“Hey! Nice to see you, Bianca…wow, you really are that tall, huh?” He grinned, “I assumed you were wearing lifts, but then I saw the video, great work by the way.”

“Yeah, not many women with this sort of build.” I replied casually, “I think that’s why so many people thought Contrast was a man, they still could be, it's not like the first chapter is out yet.” 

“Don't worry,” Basco chuckled, “You’re not losing your position.”
Damn. 

“Let’s get started!” Seth called, and Basco gave me a thumbs up. 

“Good luck!”

“Alright, Contrast,” Seth called, “We’re starting simple. You leap in, you spin-kick the invisible robot, and then you deliver the line.”

I looked down at the mark I was supposed to jump from. It was a platform barely four feet off the ground, but they wanted me to spring into the air like I was weightless. I prepared to fake it as best I could and hoped the editor knew what they were doing.

“Action!”

I bent down, muscular legs coiled, and then I flew. Or at least it felt like flying. Wind whipped past me, my long white hair whipping my back, and I twisted effortlessly in midair. My body felt light, yet strong. I landed strongly, boots digging into the ground. My chest and butt jiggled slightly as I came to a rest, but I did my best to hide it with a well-timed heroic pose.  Words filled my throat, and before I could stop myself:

“My justice is black and white.”

For a second, there was silence before Seth looked to Basco.

“Did you write that?”

“No…But I am going to! Brilliant work, Bianca!”

I blushed.

“I’m not sure where that came from, honestly…”

“Well, it’s Contrast’s new catchphrase!” 

My strong knees wobbled slightly under me; I’d come up with Basco Barringer’s new iconic character line. It was like a dream come true, if only Contrast and I, weren’t still women! 

“Oh, this is perfect!” Basco grinned, hurried scribbling in his notebook. “I can see it, she starts off black and white, but over the course of the story, she realises justice is shades of grey! I can incorporate some early criminals into her friend group, and she can learn more empathy.”

I grimaced.

“Or maybe she can be a bit more harsh, like, doing what needs to be done?”

“That’ll be her excuse at first, but then things can develop. Oh, this is great, Bianca, thank you!”

He had an almost boyish smile on his face, his eyes were sparkling, and I felt a tingle in the pit of my stomach. It was a feeling I couldn't quite identify; it was a mix of guilt, awe and…something else. Seeing him so passionate felt…weird in a way I couldn’t explain. 

We did several more short video shots, then moved to a half-finished construction site across the road for promotional pictures. The more snaps they took, the easier posing became. I stuck out my but, tilted my hips and leaned over with ease. Showing off my body felt second nature. But to my surprise, Basco kept asking for it to be toned down. 

“Less sexy, more intimidating.” He kept saying, and I rolled my eyes behind the mask. 

I was thankful for the break when it finally came. I was just about to tuck into the sandwiches Seth provided when Basco sat down next to me with an awkward look on his face. 

“Sorry but, do you think you could pose a little less…provocatively?”

“That’s just how women stand,” I replied.

“Not all the time.” Basco replied, “And I want Contrast to be taken seriously, I don’t want her to be seen as nothing but cheesecake. I want people to take this story seriously.”

“Why make her look like this, then?” I asked, waving a hand over myself. “I mean, a woman with big boobs and a fine ass isn’t exactly what people think of when they think ‘serious gritty superhero’.”

Basco seemed taken aback, and I bit my cheek, maybe that had been a bit harsh. 

“I thought you’d be thrilled, a woman like you on the front cover of a famous mangaka’s books. You seem so intiune with the character…”

“I am!” I replied quickly. “I just want this story to be the best possible version it can be and…maybe somebody who looks like me isn’t the best option? Women who look like me…they don't become superheroes, they model and do photo shoots.”

I giggled nervously before adding.

“Tits and ass have no place on the battlefield.”

Basco frowned, but didn't refute me. Maybe I was finally getting somewhere!

“People do think that way….even women,” he muttered. “Maybe you have a point.”

It took all my self-control not to jump for joy. At this rate, I’d be a man again in a matter of days, maybe even hours. 

“Bianca! Let’s do another few shots over on these steam beams!” Seth called.

I was practically skipping over to him, I couldn’t wait! I had hoped I’d be able to get through to Basco, but not this quickly! The only downside would be that nobody else would ever know how I saved his new story. I hopped up on the beams and struck another pose, more traditionally heroic, hands on my hips, chest puffed out, head held high. Seth was talking to the photographer about getting the setting sun in just the right position when I felt something strange. 

My chest was getting…heavier. I looked down and felt my eyes go wide; my boobs were getting bigger! I could see them slowly inflating under the armour before my very eyes. A similar stretching sensation was spreading over my hips, thighs and butt and what was weirder, nobody else seemed to notice! It was a good thing my expression was hidden behind the mask because my jaw was open in abject horror as the camera kept flashing. 

I tore my eyes away from my growing body, and they locked on Basco, bent over his notebook, drawing. I felt a stone form in my stomach as he flipped over the page, an upside-down drawing of Contrast, with bigger curves than ever visible even at a distance. He was changing my body! Did he know? Was he behind this whole thing? 

It would make sense, maybe this was some sort of sicko ‘punishment’ for me blowing up at him at KaCon. I watched as Basco stopped scribbling and narrowed his eyes at the sketchbook before erasing and redrawing something, my bust reduced ever so slightly in response. He looked up and gave me a goofy smile; there wasn't a hint of malice in his eyes. Surely if he knew what he was doing, he’d be grinning and trying not to laugh or…something. Until I knew for sure, it's best to keep quiet. 

“Perfect! That’s a wrap for one day, I think, Bianca! Well done.” Seth gave me a playful punch on the shoulder. “These will start going up in a few days. I hope you’re ready to be famous!”

“Sure…”

I pushed past him and went right to Basco, pointing at the new pictures.

“You’re making her more cheesecake? After that big speech?”

“I thought about what you said.” Basco smiled softly. “You’re right, women with full figures and unique looks are often just seen for that. Nothing else. I want Contrast to be a curvy, beautiful woman who is still taken seriously. She’s not hiding her femininity, she’s embracing it, but also not putting it on display.”

My mouth opened and closed in shock, but no words came. 

“See? This is what I want to do! Ninja Storm had fun characters, a classic hero's journey, but I want Contrast to really be about something. All the fun of a superhero, but commentaries on women and the genre.”

He paused for a moment, then reached out and shook my hand. If he noticed how limp my fingers were, he didn’t say.

“Thank you, Bianca. You’ve really become my muse for this whole project. I think I’d like to name Contrast’s civilian after you.”

“What?” My mouth was dry.

“I’m going to name her Bianca! Bianca…Blanc? Bianca…something. I haven't decided on an ethnicity yet. I will need to give it some thought.”

My mind was reeling. Would I change race now? I was totally at the mercy of this man and his writing whims. If he knew what he was doing, he was a damn good actor. That strange tingling in my stomach was back as well, watching Basco smooth pencil shavings through his hair without even noticing. His fingers were smudged with pencil, and he went right back to drawing. The page was absolutely packed with concept sketches, page layouts, even a few lines of dialogue. The words ‘my justice is black and white’ were written across the top of the page. 

“Bianca! The car is here!” 

“Bye, I guess.”

Basco just nodded and kept drawing, eyes glued back to his page.

“Don't mind him,” Seth sighed, patting me on the shoulder and directing me to the car. “When inspiration strikes, Basco can’t stop. You’ve really lit a fire underneath him. Perhaps you should go to his studio sometime. It’s not every day somebody is striking enough to be a muse!”

Me, Basco Barringer’s muse. That butterfly feeling in my stomach got stronger, and I held back a blush and did my best not to think about why.