Jane

Some people would surely describe the atmosphere as, well, atmospheric. Dust motes swirled through the air on currents too weak to feel myself, suspended in an infinite dance of elegance. The lighting was dim and there was a haze as if a candle or incense had been burning recently.

To me, it felt like a thrift shop too poor to keep the lights on. The dark, musty environment had left my nose burning with the desire to sneeze, and I had bumped into far too many things to even begin to count.

I couldn't ignore the sense of something unfamiliar, though. On every shelf, in every curio and object I looked at, something churned and worked my gut while my hair stood on end. It felt akin to being near high powered electrical devices that were charged up, but subtly different in a way that felt impossible to explain. That was the real atmosphere of the small and over cluttered room: charged, and impossible to stay in.

I fidgeted with the ring on my finger, twisted and sliding it about nervously. It still felt foreign, a heavy weight that brushed against everything with each movement my hand made. Do all women feel like that after getting engaged? Are they all so aware of the foreign presence wrapped around their finger like I was? I gave the slightest shakes of my head, pushing deeper into the store with a resolve to at least do a circuit through the rough attempts at pathways and head back out the front door.

A particularly tight section between a mannequin and a stack of hats left me brushing against some of the merchandise. A soft gasp left my lips as I brushed against one item in particular. My heart felt aflutter, or rather, every cell of my body felt that way at once. I whipped around, my ponytail sailing through the air to land over my shoulder and down my chest. My gaze rested on a beautiful hourglass, and at first glance I knew I was buying it.

It was beautifully ornate. A wooden frame held the glass in place, stained a beautiful blue so dark it appeared nearly black except in certain lights. Within were the actual glass bulbs, perfectly clear and containing a vibrant purple sand that seemed to glow softly in the barely illuminated store.

"So what did you find there? Or did it find you?"

Despite the sudden voice off to my side, I could only bring myself to slightly turn my head from the hourglass. A man not much older than myself stood there, looking more at the hourglass than at me. "Oh..." I feebly mumbled, turning my gaze back to the hourglass. "It's so beautiful..."

A hand wrapped my wrist suddenly, its grip as strong as steel and equally as cold. It wasn't enough to hurt, though the man had my attention. "Do not touch," he said, and released my hand. I glanced down and saw my fingers were nearly upon the glass, and sheepishly pulled back. "At least, not until you know what it is and what it does."

I gave him a look that I was offended by what he said to me. "Hey, just because--"

"Your blonde hair and makeup choices have nothing to do with it, despite what you think I intended and what others have judged you for." The directness in his voice sold the sense that he knew what I had been thinking about. A creeping chill crawled over my spine as he continued. "No, it is not just an hourglass. In fact, it does not even tell time well." He gestured a finger toward it, indicating the sand within. "Those are the Sands of Balance, though the entire hourglass has gone by that name too. Its purpose is simple, to shift the balance of whoever touches it."

"Shift the balance?"

He nodded, pointing out the ends of the glass bulbs. They were capped in beautiful golden plates but upon closer inspection there were fine engravings that would have taken a master artisan to craft. "Do you see what is engraved on these end plates?"

I leaned in closer to make out the fine details before blushing red, the warmth quickly flushing down to my chest. "Naked people..."

"Men..." he gestured to one plate, adorned in detailing of the most masculine guys I'd ever seen, before pointing at the other side that had some of the most feminine women. Their bodies and poses were sexual and desiring. "...and women. The Sands of Balance will shift your balance, or whoever touches it, between these two elements. Simply touch and turn the hourglass, and as the sands fall toward a plate you will begin to change."

I took a step back, pulling myself out of the trance I had seemed to fall into. "What, like with magic? That's not real." The man gave a soft chuckle, but didn't respond. I looked back at the hourglass. Even ignoring the fanciful story, the hourglass was still overwhelmingly beautiful. It would be a great centerpiece on the dining room table, or perhaps a decorative item for their bedroom or the living room.  I turned back to the man, presuming him to be the shopkeeper. "I don't see a price, how much is it?"

The man seemed to stare off at it, a wizened and serious look that managed to keep my attention on him. "A magical artifact like this is only as powerful as your desire to use it. To some, this is worth less than a sandwich. To others, this will be the most valuable item on the earth. What does it mean to you?"

The man's stare had turned on me. There was a depth in those eyes that made me think he was much older than he let on. "Uh, ah..." I stammered trying to find my words. "My boyfriend, er, fiance... He just proposed to me. I think this would be beautiful for our home together, but if it does what you say..."

His soft smile returned, the intensity of his gaze lightened. "Then it would be my honor to give it to you as a wedding present. Take it, and be careful with it. And should you ever find yourself in need of other items..." He gestured a hand around the room, indicating the wide array of objects.

I nodded, clasping my hands onto the wooden frame and taking it off the shelf. I pulled it close and gave the shopkeeper my best smile. "Thank you, so much."  An awkward silence filled the air, and I gave a nod as though agreeing to something unspoken. He remained still, warmly smiling but still distant. "Ok then... Thank you, and goodbye."

Within moments I was back on the small side street outside the unassuming shop with the blacked out windows. I glanced back at the sign labeled "Curios" before hurrying back down toward the main road, and by extension, my car to head home.

***

By contrast, the small duplex townhome we lived in had little to no atmosphere about it. Sterile, blank white walls, with generic discount furniture from the nearest big box store that surely sat in thousands upon thousands of homes around the country. Lugging in my acquisition through the empty house, I realized how out of place it felt. Here was this antique, ornate, beautiful piece of decoration, and all we had to go with it was... Well, we didn't have much of anything.

The hourglass found its new home on the center of the dining room table, and my fingers traced along the beautiful wooden frame that served as a housing for the glass bulbs. Carefully I placed my hand on the metal plate at one side of the hourglass, enjoying the coolness under my touch. The energetic charge seemed to leap into my hand, similar to a static shock but not unpleasant. I gasped, my hand pulling back as I felt a tingle through my skin.

The sand in the bulbs seemed to have a mind of their own, swirling and kicking up, the rich and glowing purple shimmering as it shifted into a soft pink tone. After a few seconds the sand settled down, seemingly half in each bulb.

"What am I doing?" I groaned softly to the empty room. "This thing isn't actually magic..." I could commit to the thought that something wasn't amiss though. I glanced at the hourglass, still suspended parallel to the floor in its frame so that no sand fell in either direction, before looking at an actual clock. I had a while before Blake came home, I mused. A test run wouldn't hurt anything, I figured.

A quick glance at the engraved plates, and then I twisted the hourglass to pivot in its housing so that sand was falling toward the oversexualized women. I let out a sudden giggle, feeling a rush of euphoric glow flow through my body as I turned it.

In the bathroom around the corner, I watched in the mirror for any sign of changes that the strange shopkeeper could have been alluding to. Nothing presented itself as different. There in the mirror stood the same girl I'd always seen. Blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and a face with makeup. I frowned, pursing my lips and turning my head this way and that to look at myself.

I'd never been much of a looker. When being a 'late bloomer' turned into a 'some girls just never bloom' situation, it was crushing. I'd seen all the guys at school and work always ogle after the hot girls, or rather, the ones with their tits and asses hanging out to be ogled. Here I was, flat as a board with the most curves I'd ever have being a particular bad acne breakout growing up.

I batted my eyes, and forced a smile to my lips. The makeup helped, sure. It let the guys know that I was someone that could be seen in the same desirable way as those other girls. It was a shame, and thank goodness Blake wanted me that way, but it'd still be nice to be hot, right?

I paused, realizing I'd been staring at my reflection for too long. I blinked, noticing something odd. My eyelashes felt... off. I reached up, pulling away the fake lashes that I'd dutifully applied every day for years only to find a just as full set of natural lashes beneath them. I froze, glancing at the rest of my reflection for any changes. Was my skin clearer, or was that my foundation? Did my lips look fuller or did my lipstick just look especially good today?

Too many possibilities, too many "what if's"; I rushed upstairs to the private bathroom attached to our bedroom. Bathed in the glow of the array of makeup lights, I hurriedly stripped off the makeup layers delicately on my face. In the back of my head I knew I would just be applying it again in a few moments after disappointment, except...

I gave my face an extra scrub to be sure, checking that the wipe still came away clean. Somehow, despite scrubbing my face nearly raw of my daily makeup, my face still looked pristinely made up. My fingers drifted upward and stroked across my silky smooth skin. Hours of skincare treatments would be required for a face like this, hours that I didn't have the time or patience for. And yet here were those results, as plain as day. The small mole on the side of my nose had seemingly vanished too, not under any concealer or foundation, but simply vanished.

I had to know if it was just my face, or if more of me had changed. With an eagerness that should have been concerning if I had any rational thoughts, I shed my modest blouse and slacks. I'd never needed a bra - being flatter than some guys had at least one perk - so I stood in nothing more than my panties and took in my reflection.

The girl before me had the appearance and glow of a model. She was still me, of course, but I couldn't find a single scar or blemish on my entire body, though I couldn't say I was studying every inch of myself very well. I had two distractions budding on my chest. My nipples were large and round and puffy, and adorned a pair of breasts.

Breasts... Actual, real tits on my chest. In an instant my hands flew up and squeezed the soft flesh, a gasp of surprise and delight whirling out of me. I looked up at my reflection and saw tears forming in the corners of my eyes and my fingers softly played with the petite bosom that had finally formed. That hourglass was worth its weight in gold for what it could do, and I craved more of it. I sprinted downstairs to fetch it and brought it into the bedroom, setting it on the bed.

"Come on... Give me some real boobs to show off for Blake..." My pleading was little more than a whispered groan of words as I stared at the hourglass. I had no clue if distance made a difference, but I didn't care. As the sands fell down the hourglass, I noticed that the sand in the top bulb hadn't diminished since I first turned it.

Minutes passed, but I couldn't notice any change in my breasts. Even if they were growing, I wasn't familiar with their size and spotting that would be tough. I crashed down onto the bed, immediately caught off guard. I tried to pull whatever pillow I'd sat on out from under me, but there were only the sheets and blanket I'd expected.

What I didn't expect, though, was the soft plush of my ass against my hand. Like a rocket I leapt out of bed, my hands grabbing my cheeks before I was even fully standing. I had an ass, actual curves to touch and show off there. I snuck a finger into the plain panties, feeling a tightness on the band I'd never imagined I would feel in real life.

With one hand remaining behind to cup and lift my ass, my other returned to my chest. Surely they were larger, right? My palm cupped the underside of the soft flesh, my fingers gently curling to hold curvature of my breast. Yes, it had to be bigger. At the very least, my nipples were throbbing larger than before, the areola around them puffed up. My thumb brushed against the swollen and sensitive flesh and a moan escaped my lips as I staggered back onto the bed.

That pleasure... The sensation... It was incredible, overwhelming! Using both hands I stroked along the peaks of my soft chest, slowly tracing lazy patterns and shapes as I drank in the sensations. I whimpered and moaned, barely registering that I'd never been particularly vocal in bed before but now I couldn't shut up. On an impulse I pinched both of my nipples suddenly, silently crying out in pleasure.

Hazily I grabbed my phone, checking the time. Somehow an hour had passed and I hadn't realized it, leaving me with an hour before Blake would arrive home. In the back of my head I dimly thought about how if I wanted to change back, I likely needed as much time as it took to change, but I didn't care. The temptation to keep going, to keep becoming better and hotter and more of a woman filled me. I tossed my phone aside and shifted positions on the bed.

I found myself kneeling, my heels digging into the plush cheeks of my ass. Blake's pillow smelled intoxicatingly like him, and the thought of him seeing me like this only turned me on more. Shoving it between my thighs, I let my cotton clad pussy drag against it as my hips slowly gyrated forward and back. Everything felt so sensitive and electrified, like I was discovering passion for the first time. I ground against his pillow, yearning for him to see me, his woman, and to force himself into me. I needed to show off, I needed to be beautiful and desirable to him.

Sitting up just enough to keep my balance, I kept riding the pillow, feeling my sopping wet pussy soak through the tightening panties and into my makeshift toy. Fuck, I was so aroused; the sensations of my body seemed amplified, and the thought of looking hotter only made me feel hotter. My fingers dug into the soft squish of my breasts, the soft globes spilling between the digits as my nipples pushed against my palms. As my hips slammed against the pillow, I could feel my ass cheeks jiggling and smacking against each other.

Everything was building to a crescendo. My humping was little more than wild thrashing as I pushed my burning pussy against the pillow, acutely aware of how soaked my panties had gotten. The attention on my breasts had turned into hungry, carnal molestations, and I was biting my lip as I tried to contain my moaning that sounded like a pornstar getting absolutely railed.

Suddenly it felt like a dam burst, and a wave of pleasure greater than I'd ever felt in my life surged through me. My mind and thoughts were swept away in the moment, leaving me feeling just pure feminine sexual energy coursing through my veins. I found myself on my side, hair wild around my head as I gazed at the hourglass in front of me. My heart still raced, coming down from the euphoric high of pleasure I'd just given myself, but at least my thoughts were clearer.

I'd just done that: I'd given in to the lust, to the reckless abandon. I behaved like a woman bewitched by desire in a romance novel, some generic portrayal of feminine sex appeal. It dawned on me that the heat between my thighs - along with the stick wetness - hadn't gone away. The ember of need still flickered for me. I bit my lip, looking at the sand still falling in the hourglass, looking a brighter pink than before.

Blake would be home soon. He'd be home and see me in bed, turned on and enhanced with tits and ass on display. I could turn the hourglass and start turning back. I could hide this lapse of judgment, this momentary release I needed. It could be my secret. My fingers dragged across my breasts and I let out a soft whimper. I didn't want to go back to being boring and flat. That wouldn't work. I rolled onto my back and slid a pair of fingers down the front of my panties.

Just a little bit more wouldn't hurt, I could always be a little hotter.