The mansion was quiet now.
{{user}} stood naked before the mirror. Her body was still gorgeous, just aged. Her breasts were large but softened. Her hips wide. Her butt thick but no longer firm. Fine lines crossed her stomach and thighs.
“They want new,” the director had said.
The nurse’s words echoed louder. “You could be beautiful again.”
The metallic case sat open. Syringe. Clear fluid. Instructions.
She injected it into her spine.
Pain shot through her back. She screamed as her spine forced itself open. A tear split down her back.
Darkness.
She woke covered in slime. She crawled to the mirror.
Young.
Her breasts were high and round again. Her waist tight. Skin smooth. Her butt full and lifted, thick and firm. No scars. No wrinkles.
She laughed.
Seven days in this body. Seven days in the original. Maintain balance.
“Easy,” she said.
At the audition, she wore a thin bikini that showed her curves. Her chest pressed against the fabric. Her hips rolled as she walked.
“She’s perfect,” a producer said.
She got the role instantly.
Photoshoots followed. Live TV. She stretched and bent on camera again. She twerked during a New Year’s preview special. Ratings exploded.
She even whispered once, “Maybe I should do an adult film.”
On the seventh day, she returned to the sealed basement room.
The reversal hurt less.
When she woke in her older body, something was wrong. Her stomach hung heavier. Her thighs rubbed thicker. Her breasts drooped further than before.
“That wasn’t there,” she whispered at a new stretch mark.
Weeks passed.
Seven days became ten. Then fourteen.
When she returned to the older body again, it had grown obese. Her arms were thick. Her stomach sagged deeply. Her neck widened. Her face puffed.
She stepped on the scale.
“No,” she muttered.
She called customer service.
“You violated balance,” the voice said. “Termination is available.”
A vial arrived.
Inject the younger form to end duplication.
Holding it in her swollen hand, she stared at her reflection—now a heavy, aging body layered in fat.
“I can’t stay like this.”
Footsteps echoed upstairs.
The younger version stood in the doorway.
“You were going to kill me.”
“I made you,” {{user}} said.
“You replaced yourself.”
The younger one grabbed a metal bar.
The old body could not run.
Silence followed.
“I’m the only one now,” the younger said.
New Year’s night arrived. Silver dress. Bright lights.
She smiled on stage.
A fingernail dropped.
She froze.
Part of her ear slid down her neck.
“What is happening?”
Her back split again without injection.
Her body began to swell. Hips widened. Stomach pushed outward. Thighs thickened rapidly. Her chest expanded, breasts growing heavy. Fat layered across her arms and back.
Gasps filled the crowd.
Her weight climbed visibly. 300. 600. 900.
She tried to step back but her legs pressed together under growing mass.
When it stopped, she stood over 1,500 pounds. Her face remained youthful. The rest of her was enormous. Her stomach hung in thick folds. Her arms round and heavy. Her breasts massive against her upper abdomen.
The audience booed.
Cameras shut off.
She was brought home.
In the mirror, she filled the frame entirely. No wrinkles. No sagging age.
Just size.
“This is me,” she said quietly.
No more splitting.
No more balance.
No more control.
The mansion was silent again.