Post by chronoeclipse on Sept 14, 2020 10:23:12 GMT -6
“Heavy tippers at table 12,” Missy told Cameron as she stripped down to her panties, preparing to put on her costume. “Guy and a woman. A little strange, but spending.”
“Thanks,” Cameron answered, reversing the process and putting on her uniform.
Not that there was much to put on. When you worked at a strip club, you rarely wore more than the minimum. The women alternated their stage routines with serving drinks, and their tiny skirts and halters weren’t covering much more than the thongs they ended up wearing on stage. And they wouldn’t have had it any other way, since they could supplement their minimum salaries substantially by the tips they earned delivering drinks.
Missy glanced onstage to gauge how much longer Angelina would be. The dancer was down to her spiked collar, whip and black-leather thong, so Missy figured she would stay on at least another 5 minutes. Angelina always earned her biggest tips when she started teasing the men in the front row using her whip while shaking her breasts in their faces.
Missy smiled. Each of the dancers tended to have their favorite routines. Angelina was into the dominatrix model, which fit well with her more mature body and face. Cameron favored the California surfer girl motif to match her tanned, firm skin and natural blond hair cut in an athletic bob. Missy, the youngest of the girls there, played to her own strength and deliberately “dressed down,” putting on variations of naughty schoolgirl outfits. It was amazing how many guys went nuts for that fantasy.
Of course, one of the other girls, Tiffany, took even that theme to the extreme, actually wearing adult-sized baby clothes, right down to a giant pacifier.
Missy buttoned her tight, sheer white blouse and shimmied into her micro-mini plaid skirt. She put on knee socks, but then slipped on her 4-inch heels to add the sexiness to her footwear, and finished off with a stage prop lollipop.
And just in time, Angelina jogged off the stage, sweating but satisfied. She had a belt of bills sprouting all around her g-string and a fistful in her hand.
“Good crowd,” she nodded at Missy, smirking. “But I think I cleaned them out.”
“We’ll see,” Missy joked. “Maybe they’re just ready for something fresher.” And with that, she moved onto the stage, skipping like a schoolgirl and pretending to lick her lollipop.
Cameron, meanwhile, had taken Missy’s advice and stopped first at table 12. She found a man and woman there, watching the show. This wasn’t too unusual in itself – women often accompanied their men to the place, and sometimes even came alone – but there was still something that struck her as odd. They didn’t seem at all excited by the sea of nearly naked women around them – more clinical and curious, as though they were studying them.
The woman caught her eye as soon as she arrived.
“Ah, another one. And what’s your name?”
“I'm Cameron,” she answered. “Are you guys ready for another drink?”
The man and woman exchanged glances, then to Cameron’s surprise, tossed off full glasses of whiskey without batting an eye. After putting her glass down, the woman looked at Cameron again.
“Yes. Another round.” She held out enough money to buy three. “And you can keep the change if you tell me a little about yourself.”
Cameron hesitated, but the money was awfully tempting.
“OK, well, I'm a student, but stripping pays the bills, you know? It’s good money.”
“Then why wouldn’t you keep doing it?”
“Um, well, you know. Some people kind of look down on you. And besides, it’s not like you can keep doing it when you get older.”
“Why not?”
“You just wouldn’t. Besides, who’s going to pay to see a bunch of old women taking their clothes off?”
The woman’s eyes glittered. “What a fascinating question.”
She and the man began talking earnestly in low voices together, while Cameron went to get their drinks. Halfway to the bar, she remembered she forgot to ask specifically what they wanted, and turned to find out. She was surprised to find the table empty, and no sign of either the man or the woman near it or anywhere in the room.
“Damn,” she muttered. She pocketed the money happily, but had been hoping for several more visits.
All of a sudden, she staggered slightly, feeling a wave of weariness pass through her body, leaving her dizzy and generally weak. A few seconds seemed to clear the feeling, but she noticed Missy had stumbled on stage, as though the weird feeling had struck her at the same time.
She stopped at another table with a single guy, young, probably a college student.
“I may have to check your ID,” she joked.
He looked up nervously. “No, wait. I won’t order any…”
She laughed and touched his chest. “Honey, I'm kidding. As long as they let you in, we assume your legal, OK? What’ll you have?”
The man’s gaze fell automatically towards Cameron’s small but exceedingly firm breasts, presented appetizingly in her tiny halter.
“That’s not on the menu,” she laughed. “But if you’re feeling generous…”
He took the hint, slipping $5 into her cleavage with trembling hands.
“Thanks, honey,” she patted his cheek. Young guys were so easy to manipulate. At least when you were young, beautiful and outrageously sexy as the women here.
She picked up another couple of orders and walked to the bar. Tiffany was standing there as well, her stripper’s body looking incongruous in her modified baby outfit. Tiffany, like Angelina, had the oversized breasts that indicated implants, though both had received very professional jobs. Tiffany’s still looked strange when they were combined with her ruffled, baby-girl top and stylized shorts resembling a diaper. Tiffany nodded at her.
“One more set, and we can go home.”
Cameron smiled. “I wont mind that. I just felt really tired all of a sudden.”
“Really? Me too. That’s weird.” Tiffany popped a giant pacifier in her mouth and started working the floor.
Cameron waited while her drink orders were filled. Something strange about the man and woman who had disappeared still bothered her. She would be glad to get home tonight.
Just before closing, all the women were getting dressed together in the changing room. As usual, Missy, Angelina, Cameron, and Tiffany hung out together.
“Wow, the dancing really tired me out tonight,” Missy admitted. “I wonder if I might be coming down with something?”
Cameron nodded. She felt the same way, and she noticed the some shadows around Missy’s eyes that made her look really worn out.
Angelina was stretching. “Me too. God, my back and knees are aching.”
Cameron noticed she looked tired too, and there was something else – something about the way she walked and moved that looked different. Angelina was the oldest of the group anyway, a ripe 26. This played well into her role as the “mature” woman and she had developed her dominatrix outfit and routine to play that up. But Cameron had never really noticed just how much older than the other girls she looked. In this light, and with her being tired, there even seemed to be some faint lines around her mouth and eyes. Her enhanced breasts hung a little lower too, as she wrestled them into her bra.
“Let’s all get some sleep,” Cameron suggested. “I'm sure we’ll feel better in the morning.”
However, she was wrong. Cameron woke up the next morning feeling slightly sore, as though she had danced too hard. She got up, used the bathroom and took a shower. While she was showering, she noticed her breasts seemed a little bigger and heavier. This sounded like a good thing in itself, but they also hung a little lower and had lost that perky quality which was her hallmark.
Putting it down to her cycle, she toweled off and got dressed. As expected, her bra felt a size too small, but she managed well enough. She was also surprised to find that her panties felt a bit tighter, and when she tried to check out her backside reflection in the mirror, she was sure she had gained a few pounds – her ass was definitely wider and softer than normal. That probably explained her breasts too – she had just gained a few pounds without noticing.
She slipped on a t-shirt, but really struggled with her jeans, which didn’t want to pass her widened hips and ass. Giving up, she put on a skirt instead – a nice, short one designed to highlight her tanned, fit legs.
Though now that she noticed it, maybe she shouldn’t spend quite as much time in the sun tanning – her skin looked a little dried out and there were a few scattered blemishes, almost like age spots.
She put on her makeup and noticed the same thing – her skin seemed drier and a little leathery. When she frowned, there even seemed to be some tiny lines around her face and mouth, just like those she’d noticed last night with Angelina. She applied extra moisturizer, and decided she’d cut back on her sun exposure, at least until her skin had recovered its normal youthful luster. (Which she was sure would only take a few days.)
She attended her morning classes, and dealt with her usual morning flirtations. Every class had at least three or four male students (and some professors) who seemed determined to get into her pants.
Sure enough, she received the usual lame come-ons and pick-up lines, but strangely enough, she noticed once or twice that when she smiled or laughed, bringing those same crinkly lines unbeknownst to her face, the boys would lose a little of their enthusiasm. She almost felt disappointed they didn’t try as hard as usual to break her resistance down.
While she listened to one lecture, she let her foot bounce, idly looking at her foot in its exposed open sandal. Once more, she received a small shock. Her foot looked slightly irregular, with the same drier, thicker skin she had noticed elsewhere but also with a couple of new bumps along her big toe. She recognized the swellings as the first signs of bunions the bane of any woman who’s worn too many impractical shoes or too high heels. She made a resolution at once to avoid anything but low heels or comfort shoes except when dancing.
Now that she had the leisure to examine them, she noticed a few extra spidery veins along her calf too. Damn! The dancing the last few days must have been much more taxing than she thought to produce all these effects. Her flawless, tanned legs didn’t look quite so flawless anymore. Even the muscle tone seemed a little less, though that was probably just due to those few extra pounds she’d noticed.
She ate only a salad for lunch, and made a resolution to join the school’s aerobics program the next afternoon.
By the time she reached work, many of the other girls seemed to be having similar problems.
“…just so tired…”
“…up 8 pounds! Can you believe it?”
“…doesn’t’ fit right either...”
“..this weird backache…”
Angelina was already in her costume. Her leather bustier seemed to be overflowing more than usual tonight, and when she saw Cameron looking she smiled to acknowledge it.
“Yeah, I seemed to have gained a full cup size. Isn’t that amazing?”
“As if you needed it,” Cameron said, shaking her head. Angelina was the bustiest of the group already.
But once again, she noticed the same features that had detracted from her own growth. Angelina was larger, but seemed to have lost firmness at the same time. Even with the tight bustier, you could see that her breasts were softer and saggier. In fact, everything about her seemed to sag a little. She had a small tummy bulge that she hadn’t noticed yesterday, and her ass cheeks were hanging out just below her leather bikini bottom, apparently too large or soft to be restrained. Those faint lines around her eyes and mouth were not only still visible, but seemed more obvious, even though she’d used makeup in a deliberate attempt to cover them up. There might even be one or two streaks of gray in her otherwise dark hair.
Missy was grunting as she tried to put her skirt on.
“Ugh! I know I might have gained a pound or two, but I can’t believe it’s this hard. Cameron, can you give me a hand?”
She moved to help and saw the problem. Indeed, Missy did seem a little heavier, but worse was that the weight had settled around her hips and thighs. It not only left the schoolgirl skirt too small, but wasn’t nearly as flattering even when they managed to pull it on. With her wide hips and slightly chunky thighs, she looked almost like a mother dressing in a girl’s outfit.
“Yeah, I know,” Missy sighed. “I'm going to start losing weight tomorrow.”
Cameron nodded, but was surprised at how much the few extra pounds could change her appearance. It wasn’t just her thicker middle – Missy really did look much older, more like a woman well into her thirties rather than one barely into her twenties.
In fact all of the girls were looking a little … worn. Everyone seemed a little tired, and the same lines Cameron had noticed on herself and had assumed came from too much sun seemed to be showing up on everyone else at the same time. Naked thighs and breasts didn’t look quite as firm, tummies looked a little rounded and softer, and many of the girls complained about their dancing, saying they were more tired.
Cameron made her waitress rounds, sizing up the customers for potential tippers. There were the usual single men and groups, plus one or two couples. One in particular caught her eye – a young couple with the guy her own age and the girl even younger, still looking like she was in high school. She hoped the attendant had confirmed her age, but figured they might be nervous enough to tip more heavily for drinks.
Missy was onstage now, and their fears about her naughty schoolgirl costume were well founded. Her extra pounds seemed concentrated in her lower body and tummy, and her thighs even showed signs of dimpling and cellulite that ruined the schoolgirl effect. It was a little better once she’d taken her skirt off, but her dancing lacked its usual grace and energy.
Cameron found the same thing when she danced. Her legs seemed a little stiffer and less limber, and she had to disguise her panting by the end. The spectators seemed to notice too, and were less enthusiastic (and generous) than usual. She was glad to get back to her turn at the bar.
She checked on her young couple again and was surprised to notice that the girl wasn’t as young as she’d thought at first. On this second look, she was clearly past high school age, and might even be a year or two older than her college-aged boyfriend.
Come to think of it, most of the women who were here with their dates looked like they might be older. That was certainly weird. Some of them might even be in their forties, and Cameron hardly ever saw any woman older than 25 in the club.
By the end of the night, knees and ankles were sorer than ever. The last few dancers were barely lifting their legs when they kicked. That same tired, worn look was hitting everyone now, and their once pert breasts seemed to be sagging along with their spirits. And more than just breasts were jiggling when they got naked – Cameron had never realized just how many of the girls carried a little extra weight in their behinds and thighs like that.
Cameron saw her young couple leaving. The woman looked even older in the new light, and she briefly wondered if the boy could have been dating a teacher. The woman’s clothes looked like they were designed for a teenager, and didn’t fit very well. She really should have dressed more appropriately for her age.
The dancers talked briefly afterwards.
“…maybe something going around…”
“…too much sun…”
“…knees are swollen…”
“…never been so tired…”
Just about everyone decided to forego their usual partying and head straight home to get some sleep.
The next morning brought more of the same: new aches, new pains, and new – and usually unpleasant – discoveries. Cameron found that her face looked even more wan, even after a night’s sleep. Her skin seemed lax, no doubt from that sun exposure, making slight sags appear at her cheeks and chin. The lines around her eyes and mouth had deepened, and new ones had formed across her forehead and next to her nose. To be honest, she looked more like someone nearing her fortieth birthday rather than someone just past her twentieth.
The same time telescope had transformed her body. Her breasts hung lower, changing her profile from pert and sexy to matronly. Her hips and ass had spread to middle-age width, and her thighs had lost muscle tone, becoming doughier and slightly dimpled. More veins had appeared on her calves, and her skin was blotchier and drier. Her knees and ankles ached, and there was some new pain in her lower back.
However, a new facet of the spell had kicked in at the same time. Cameron noted the changes unhappily enough, but put them down to being tired as well as her previous excuse of too much sun. Just another day or two of more rest would be sure to put her right.
Her clothes still didn’t fit right, but she made due, wearing a short skirt that showed off the developing varicose veins in her legs and cellulite in her thighs. Her tight top stretched even tighter across her sagging boobs, and left a small patch of soft tummy pushing out the bottom.
She looked like a mother dressing hopelessly young in order to “fit in” at her daughter’s party.
Apparently, the effect was not lost on the boys in her classes. No one hit on her today – in fact, several didn’t even recognize her. Those who did breathed a sigh of relief over not being accepted before as boyfriend material – she was obviously much older than they’d assumed. Probably some middle-aged woman looking to pick up an extra title or postponed college degree.
She noticed the lack of interest and pouted a little. When she actually tried to start up a conversation with a cute boy, he answered briefly but politely enough.
Until he called her “ma’am.”
The implication of age and unattractiveness left her gasping. How dare he pretend she was old? She was soooo out of his league anyway. She turned in a huff and stalked off, adding an extra wiggle to her behind just to show him what he was missing.
Unfortunately, the extra jiggle shown off by her too-tight skirt only reinforced the mild revulsion he’d been feeling at her flirting. It was very weird to be hit on by someone your mother’s age.
Cameron stopped after a few minutes, needing to sit down. Her feet were really starting to hurt, and she figured there must be something wrong with her sandals. They didn’t seem to fit right, and were causing her toes to cramp. In fact, they had cramped so much there looked almost knobby, as though she had bunions that had appeared since the morning. Her feet, which usually looked so smooth, dainty, and flawless, now looked distinctly flawed – the skin leathery, the joints arthritic, and the toes distorted. The combination made her sandals not only impractical but unflattering, and she decided she’d pick up a pair of “sensible” shoes for the afternoon.
That night, the transformations had progressed just as far in everyone else, but thanks to the magic’s cloaking effect, the women continued to put it down to feeling tired. Cameron walked in wearing her orthopedic support shoes, which looked ridiculous when juxtaposed with her unflattering miniskirt and tight top. The other dancers shuffled in, complaining of knee and backaches. Several were wearing glasses – purely temporary - having found their vision unaccountably blurry that morning. All were wearing too much makeup, in an attempt to hide their new lines and wrinkles, though everyone tried to excuse the skin changes to fatigue. They moaned and complained together, talking about how tired and sore they were, and not noticing how their voices had dropped in register and were raspier, making them sound like a retiree bridge club getting ready for yoga.
Cameron worked her first round at the tables. She recognized the young man she’d seen the night before, but it looked like he had picked up a new date, or at least the woman with him looked much older than the girl the previous night. The odd thing was that she otherwise looked a lot like her – as though he’d switched to her older sister. Or even her mother, Cameron thought, as she took their orders. The woman looked close to 40, with noticeable facial lines and the sagging breasts of middle age, not at all flattered by her tight, low-cut shirt.
And speaking of sagging breasts, Angelina had taken the stage, and Cameron was shocked at how much older she looked under the house lights. Her soft breasts overflowed her bustier, and when she loosed the string to free them, they sagged low and heavy onto her stomach. They seemed to have lost all their youthful support, hanging sadly and flattening against her body. They had changed in ways other than shape as well. The nipples looked larger, and the areolas around them had expanded and darkened. The skin seemed looser, and prominent veins marked the skin.
Angelina seemed to dance hunched over a little, though Cameron wasn’t sure if that was due to the weight of her sagging breasts or the pain in her back she’d been complaining of. The effect added to the appearance of age, rounding her back like an old woman, accentuating the bulge of her tummy, and making her butt stick out more. Her stomach, thighs and ass cheeks all jiggled, as much from an apparent loss of muscle tone as an increased layer of fat.
She must have done something to her hair as well – it almost looked gray under the harsh spotlight of the stage, and the bright light seemed to highlight every new line and crease in her increasingly careworn face.
Those lights seemed to drain the life right out of Angelina as she danced. The lines on her face deepened, and her cheeks drooped. Her nose seemed to grow, becoming sharper and more hag-like. Her body became more and more tired. Soon, her steps became slower and more careful, and shortly thereafter, she was barely lifting her feet at all, more shuffling across the stage. Her breasts seemed to sag lower and lower on her chest, like deflating water balloons, as though losing whatever residual support they had. When she tried to shimmy out of her panties, she stumbled and seemed dizzy. She had to sit down, winded and panting, and ease them down her aching hips and legs.
By the time Angelina stood back up, Cameron didn’t even recognize the woman on stage. It looked as though someone’s plump grandmother had gone wild and tried to reclaim her youth by climbing onto the dance platform. Her face was lined and worn, her hair gray and wispy. Her large breasts hung like empty sacks, and her increasingly round, soft tummy threatened to overtake them as her dominant feature in profile. Her legs were flabby, the thighs plump and dimpled, though the calves looked spindly in comparison, and both were marred by a network of purplish veins.
And the guys went wild! People were yelling: “Awesome!” “Go, Granny!” “Flop those titties – oh yeah, that’s it!” And Angelina smiled and shuffled around the stage, shaking her drooping breasts and jiggling, pockmarked behind.
Cameron shook her head. It was amazing how hard a toll dancing could take. She vowed to quit long before she got old like that.
Though that was for the future. For now, Cameron took off her waitress apron and walked backstage, ready to start her own dance.
As usual, she wore a simple ultra-short, ultra-tight t-shirt and skirt to start out. Her chief assets were her youth and vitality: the California golden girl. All she had to do was tease them a little before revealing her incredibly perky, perfect breasts.
Except tonight they didn’t seem as perky or perfect. She had noticed before that the slight increase in size the last couple of days had served to make them hang differently, and the problem seemed to accelerate as she started dancing on stage. It was as though the spotlight was aging them before her eyes. She managed to wrestle off her too-tight shirt and began shaking her breasts seductively. But each shake seemed to make them sag and swing a little more. They became heavier and softer at the same time, moving from a pleasing roundness to teardrop shaped, and then continued to sag, becoming flatter at the top as the bottoms embraced gravity. Their skin became drier and thinner, making the veins stand out more. She embraced them lifting them up as though trying to make them ride high and proud again, but the sagging only got worse when she let them go.
She tried to concentrate on her dancing, ignoring the way her breasts drooped, but felt a strange weariness sap the energy from her body. Her legs felt heavy. Her knees ached. Her shoes began to pinch more and more, as her feet began to twist arthritically, the cumulative effects of years of dancing and heels affecting them in mere minutes. She felt winded and began sweating and panting.
Cameron’s “golden girl” looks had long since faded, and now her face showed the real effects of the ravaging years. The twinkle in her eye faded, leaving her eyes rheumy and dull. Lines sprang into being to frame them, then joined in a rapidly progressive network which highlighted her mouth and nose. Her cheeks hollowed, then began to slowly sag, as though melting under the lights. Her skin lost its youthful glow along with her beach-girl tan, becoming lax and sallow. Her blond hair became dull and listless, and the first streaks of gray began to seep into the edges.
Cameron was well into late middle age now, looking like a mother who hoped dancing could reclaim her youth. Her breasts hung low and swung heavily with her movements, and now the skin of her lower body changed, beginning to sag like her breasts. Her tummy lost its youthful firmness and pooched out. Puckers and wrinkles formed on her drooping breasts and tummy as the skin loosened. Her thighs became dimpled with cellulite, and varicose veins began to spread up her legs like growing ivy.
And still, Cameron danced, forcing her legs to move even though they felt like lead. She changed from mature woman, sailed through the last stages of middle age, and now began to look truly old. The last glimmers of youth and her once amazing healthy glow faded away. Her hair was a bleached blond-gray now, and was moving towards white. The skin on her arms and legs wrinkled and thinned, marred by more and more age spots as well. Her breasts lost size again, but regained none of their youthful perkiness, instead sagging sadly and almost emptily against her chest, like deflated balloons.
She unsnapped her panties, exposing gray, wispy pubic hair and the sagging sex of her aged pussy. Her thighs and ass were riddled with cellulite, and quivered from the combination of fat and lost muscle. The same age blotches discolored her once flawless legs, and her formerly trim, pert bottom sagged from several pounds of excess fat.
She pursed her lips as though kissing a man near the stage, setting off an explosion of wrinkles around suddenly thin, withered lips.
“Thanks,” Cameron answered, reversing the process and putting on her uniform.
Not that there was much to put on. When you worked at a strip club, you rarely wore more than the minimum. The women alternated their stage routines with serving drinks, and their tiny skirts and halters weren’t covering much more than the thongs they ended up wearing on stage. And they wouldn’t have had it any other way, since they could supplement their minimum salaries substantially by the tips they earned delivering drinks.
Missy glanced onstage to gauge how much longer Angelina would be. The dancer was down to her spiked collar, whip and black-leather thong, so Missy figured she would stay on at least another 5 minutes. Angelina always earned her biggest tips when she started teasing the men in the front row using her whip while shaking her breasts in their faces.
Missy smiled. Each of the dancers tended to have their favorite routines. Angelina was into the dominatrix model, which fit well with her more mature body and face. Cameron favored the California surfer girl motif to match her tanned, firm skin and natural blond hair cut in an athletic bob. Missy, the youngest of the girls there, played to her own strength and deliberately “dressed down,” putting on variations of naughty schoolgirl outfits. It was amazing how many guys went nuts for that fantasy.
Of course, one of the other girls, Tiffany, took even that theme to the extreme, actually wearing adult-sized baby clothes, right down to a giant pacifier.
Missy buttoned her tight, sheer white blouse and shimmied into her micro-mini plaid skirt. She put on knee socks, but then slipped on her 4-inch heels to add the sexiness to her footwear, and finished off with a stage prop lollipop.
And just in time, Angelina jogged off the stage, sweating but satisfied. She had a belt of bills sprouting all around her g-string and a fistful in her hand.
“Good crowd,” she nodded at Missy, smirking. “But I think I cleaned them out.”
“We’ll see,” Missy joked. “Maybe they’re just ready for something fresher.” And with that, she moved onto the stage, skipping like a schoolgirl and pretending to lick her lollipop.
Cameron, meanwhile, had taken Missy’s advice and stopped first at table 12. She found a man and woman there, watching the show. This wasn’t too unusual in itself – women often accompanied their men to the place, and sometimes even came alone – but there was still something that struck her as odd. They didn’t seem at all excited by the sea of nearly naked women around them – more clinical and curious, as though they were studying them.
The woman caught her eye as soon as she arrived.
“Ah, another one. And what’s your name?”
“I'm Cameron,” she answered. “Are you guys ready for another drink?”
The man and woman exchanged glances, then to Cameron’s surprise, tossed off full glasses of whiskey without batting an eye. After putting her glass down, the woman looked at Cameron again.
“Yes. Another round.” She held out enough money to buy three. “And you can keep the change if you tell me a little about yourself.”
Cameron hesitated, but the money was awfully tempting.
“OK, well, I'm a student, but stripping pays the bills, you know? It’s good money.”
“Then why wouldn’t you keep doing it?”
“Um, well, you know. Some people kind of look down on you. And besides, it’s not like you can keep doing it when you get older.”
“Why not?”
“You just wouldn’t. Besides, who’s going to pay to see a bunch of old women taking their clothes off?”
The woman’s eyes glittered. “What a fascinating question.”
She and the man began talking earnestly in low voices together, while Cameron went to get their drinks. Halfway to the bar, she remembered she forgot to ask specifically what they wanted, and turned to find out. She was surprised to find the table empty, and no sign of either the man or the woman near it or anywhere in the room.
“Damn,” she muttered. She pocketed the money happily, but had been hoping for several more visits.
All of a sudden, she staggered slightly, feeling a wave of weariness pass through her body, leaving her dizzy and generally weak. A few seconds seemed to clear the feeling, but she noticed Missy had stumbled on stage, as though the weird feeling had struck her at the same time.
She stopped at another table with a single guy, young, probably a college student.
“I may have to check your ID,” she joked.
He looked up nervously. “No, wait. I won’t order any…”
She laughed and touched his chest. “Honey, I'm kidding. As long as they let you in, we assume your legal, OK? What’ll you have?”
The man’s gaze fell automatically towards Cameron’s small but exceedingly firm breasts, presented appetizingly in her tiny halter.
“That’s not on the menu,” she laughed. “But if you’re feeling generous…”
He took the hint, slipping $5 into her cleavage with trembling hands.
“Thanks, honey,” she patted his cheek. Young guys were so easy to manipulate. At least when you were young, beautiful and outrageously sexy as the women here.
She picked up another couple of orders and walked to the bar. Tiffany was standing there as well, her stripper’s body looking incongruous in her modified baby outfit. Tiffany, like Angelina, had the oversized breasts that indicated implants, though both had received very professional jobs. Tiffany’s still looked strange when they were combined with her ruffled, baby-girl top and stylized shorts resembling a diaper. Tiffany nodded at her.
“One more set, and we can go home.”
Cameron smiled. “I wont mind that. I just felt really tired all of a sudden.”
“Really? Me too. That’s weird.” Tiffany popped a giant pacifier in her mouth and started working the floor.
Cameron waited while her drink orders were filled. Something strange about the man and woman who had disappeared still bothered her. She would be glad to get home tonight.
Just before closing, all the women were getting dressed together in the changing room. As usual, Missy, Angelina, Cameron, and Tiffany hung out together.
“Wow, the dancing really tired me out tonight,” Missy admitted. “I wonder if I might be coming down with something?”
Cameron nodded. She felt the same way, and she noticed the some shadows around Missy’s eyes that made her look really worn out.
Angelina was stretching. “Me too. God, my back and knees are aching.”
Cameron noticed she looked tired too, and there was something else – something about the way she walked and moved that looked different. Angelina was the oldest of the group anyway, a ripe 26. This played well into her role as the “mature” woman and she had developed her dominatrix outfit and routine to play that up. But Cameron had never really noticed just how much older than the other girls she looked. In this light, and with her being tired, there even seemed to be some faint lines around her mouth and eyes. Her enhanced breasts hung a little lower too, as she wrestled them into her bra.
“Let’s all get some sleep,” Cameron suggested. “I'm sure we’ll feel better in the morning.”
However, she was wrong. Cameron woke up the next morning feeling slightly sore, as though she had danced too hard. She got up, used the bathroom and took a shower. While she was showering, she noticed her breasts seemed a little bigger and heavier. This sounded like a good thing in itself, but they also hung a little lower and had lost that perky quality which was her hallmark.
Putting it down to her cycle, she toweled off and got dressed. As expected, her bra felt a size too small, but she managed well enough. She was also surprised to find that her panties felt a bit tighter, and when she tried to check out her backside reflection in the mirror, she was sure she had gained a few pounds – her ass was definitely wider and softer than normal. That probably explained her breasts too – she had just gained a few pounds without noticing.
She slipped on a t-shirt, but really struggled with her jeans, which didn’t want to pass her widened hips and ass. Giving up, she put on a skirt instead – a nice, short one designed to highlight her tanned, fit legs.
Though now that she noticed it, maybe she shouldn’t spend quite as much time in the sun tanning – her skin looked a little dried out and there were a few scattered blemishes, almost like age spots.
She put on her makeup and noticed the same thing – her skin seemed drier and a little leathery. When she frowned, there even seemed to be some tiny lines around her face and mouth, just like those she’d noticed last night with Angelina. She applied extra moisturizer, and decided she’d cut back on her sun exposure, at least until her skin had recovered its normal youthful luster. (Which she was sure would only take a few days.)
She attended her morning classes, and dealt with her usual morning flirtations. Every class had at least three or four male students (and some professors) who seemed determined to get into her pants.
Sure enough, she received the usual lame come-ons and pick-up lines, but strangely enough, she noticed once or twice that when she smiled or laughed, bringing those same crinkly lines unbeknownst to her face, the boys would lose a little of their enthusiasm. She almost felt disappointed they didn’t try as hard as usual to break her resistance down.
While she listened to one lecture, she let her foot bounce, idly looking at her foot in its exposed open sandal. Once more, she received a small shock. Her foot looked slightly irregular, with the same drier, thicker skin she had noticed elsewhere but also with a couple of new bumps along her big toe. She recognized the swellings as the first signs of bunions the bane of any woman who’s worn too many impractical shoes or too high heels. She made a resolution at once to avoid anything but low heels or comfort shoes except when dancing.
Now that she had the leisure to examine them, she noticed a few extra spidery veins along her calf too. Damn! The dancing the last few days must have been much more taxing than she thought to produce all these effects. Her flawless, tanned legs didn’t look quite so flawless anymore. Even the muscle tone seemed a little less, though that was probably just due to those few extra pounds she’d noticed.
She ate only a salad for lunch, and made a resolution to join the school’s aerobics program the next afternoon.
By the time she reached work, many of the other girls seemed to be having similar problems.
“…just so tired…”
“…up 8 pounds! Can you believe it?”
“…doesn’t’ fit right either...”
“..this weird backache…”
Angelina was already in her costume. Her leather bustier seemed to be overflowing more than usual tonight, and when she saw Cameron looking she smiled to acknowledge it.
“Yeah, I seemed to have gained a full cup size. Isn’t that amazing?”
“As if you needed it,” Cameron said, shaking her head. Angelina was the bustiest of the group already.
But once again, she noticed the same features that had detracted from her own growth. Angelina was larger, but seemed to have lost firmness at the same time. Even with the tight bustier, you could see that her breasts were softer and saggier. In fact, everything about her seemed to sag a little. She had a small tummy bulge that she hadn’t noticed yesterday, and her ass cheeks were hanging out just below her leather bikini bottom, apparently too large or soft to be restrained. Those faint lines around her eyes and mouth were not only still visible, but seemed more obvious, even though she’d used makeup in a deliberate attempt to cover them up. There might even be one or two streaks of gray in her otherwise dark hair.
Missy was grunting as she tried to put her skirt on.
“Ugh! I know I might have gained a pound or two, but I can’t believe it’s this hard. Cameron, can you give me a hand?”
She moved to help and saw the problem. Indeed, Missy did seem a little heavier, but worse was that the weight had settled around her hips and thighs. It not only left the schoolgirl skirt too small, but wasn’t nearly as flattering even when they managed to pull it on. With her wide hips and slightly chunky thighs, she looked almost like a mother dressing in a girl’s outfit.
“Yeah, I know,” Missy sighed. “I'm going to start losing weight tomorrow.”
Cameron nodded, but was surprised at how much the few extra pounds could change her appearance. It wasn’t just her thicker middle – Missy really did look much older, more like a woman well into her thirties rather than one barely into her twenties.
In fact all of the girls were looking a little … worn. Everyone seemed a little tired, and the same lines Cameron had noticed on herself and had assumed came from too much sun seemed to be showing up on everyone else at the same time. Naked thighs and breasts didn’t look quite as firm, tummies looked a little rounded and softer, and many of the girls complained about their dancing, saying they were more tired.
Cameron made her waitress rounds, sizing up the customers for potential tippers. There were the usual single men and groups, plus one or two couples. One in particular caught her eye – a young couple with the guy her own age and the girl even younger, still looking like she was in high school. She hoped the attendant had confirmed her age, but figured they might be nervous enough to tip more heavily for drinks.
Missy was onstage now, and their fears about her naughty schoolgirl costume were well founded. Her extra pounds seemed concentrated in her lower body and tummy, and her thighs even showed signs of dimpling and cellulite that ruined the schoolgirl effect. It was a little better once she’d taken her skirt off, but her dancing lacked its usual grace and energy.
Cameron found the same thing when she danced. Her legs seemed a little stiffer and less limber, and she had to disguise her panting by the end. The spectators seemed to notice too, and were less enthusiastic (and generous) than usual. She was glad to get back to her turn at the bar.
She checked on her young couple again and was surprised to notice that the girl wasn’t as young as she’d thought at first. On this second look, she was clearly past high school age, and might even be a year or two older than her college-aged boyfriend.
Come to think of it, most of the women who were here with their dates looked like they might be older. That was certainly weird. Some of them might even be in their forties, and Cameron hardly ever saw any woman older than 25 in the club.
By the end of the night, knees and ankles were sorer than ever. The last few dancers were barely lifting their legs when they kicked. That same tired, worn look was hitting everyone now, and their once pert breasts seemed to be sagging along with their spirits. And more than just breasts were jiggling when they got naked – Cameron had never realized just how many of the girls carried a little extra weight in their behinds and thighs like that.
Cameron saw her young couple leaving. The woman looked even older in the new light, and she briefly wondered if the boy could have been dating a teacher. The woman’s clothes looked like they were designed for a teenager, and didn’t fit very well. She really should have dressed more appropriately for her age.
The dancers talked briefly afterwards.
“…maybe something going around…”
“…too much sun…”
“…knees are swollen…”
“…never been so tired…”
Just about everyone decided to forego their usual partying and head straight home to get some sleep.
The next morning brought more of the same: new aches, new pains, and new – and usually unpleasant – discoveries. Cameron found that her face looked even more wan, even after a night’s sleep. Her skin seemed lax, no doubt from that sun exposure, making slight sags appear at her cheeks and chin. The lines around her eyes and mouth had deepened, and new ones had formed across her forehead and next to her nose. To be honest, she looked more like someone nearing her fortieth birthday rather than someone just past her twentieth.
The same time telescope had transformed her body. Her breasts hung lower, changing her profile from pert and sexy to matronly. Her hips and ass had spread to middle-age width, and her thighs had lost muscle tone, becoming doughier and slightly dimpled. More veins had appeared on her calves, and her skin was blotchier and drier. Her knees and ankles ached, and there was some new pain in her lower back.
However, a new facet of the spell had kicked in at the same time. Cameron noted the changes unhappily enough, but put them down to being tired as well as her previous excuse of too much sun. Just another day or two of more rest would be sure to put her right.
Her clothes still didn’t fit right, but she made due, wearing a short skirt that showed off the developing varicose veins in her legs and cellulite in her thighs. Her tight top stretched even tighter across her sagging boobs, and left a small patch of soft tummy pushing out the bottom.
She looked like a mother dressing hopelessly young in order to “fit in” at her daughter’s party.
Apparently, the effect was not lost on the boys in her classes. No one hit on her today – in fact, several didn’t even recognize her. Those who did breathed a sigh of relief over not being accepted before as boyfriend material – she was obviously much older than they’d assumed. Probably some middle-aged woman looking to pick up an extra title or postponed college degree.
She noticed the lack of interest and pouted a little. When she actually tried to start up a conversation with a cute boy, he answered briefly but politely enough.
Until he called her “ma’am.”
The implication of age and unattractiveness left her gasping. How dare he pretend she was old? She was soooo out of his league anyway. She turned in a huff and stalked off, adding an extra wiggle to her behind just to show him what he was missing.
Unfortunately, the extra jiggle shown off by her too-tight skirt only reinforced the mild revulsion he’d been feeling at her flirting. It was very weird to be hit on by someone your mother’s age.
Cameron stopped after a few minutes, needing to sit down. Her feet were really starting to hurt, and she figured there must be something wrong with her sandals. They didn’t seem to fit right, and were causing her toes to cramp. In fact, they had cramped so much there looked almost knobby, as though she had bunions that had appeared since the morning. Her feet, which usually looked so smooth, dainty, and flawless, now looked distinctly flawed – the skin leathery, the joints arthritic, and the toes distorted. The combination made her sandals not only impractical but unflattering, and she decided she’d pick up a pair of “sensible” shoes for the afternoon.
That night, the transformations had progressed just as far in everyone else, but thanks to the magic’s cloaking effect, the women continued to put it down to feeling tired. Cameron walked in wearing her orthopedic support shoes, which looked ridiculous when juxtaposed with her unflattering miniskirt and tight top. The other dancers shuffled in, complaining of knee and backaches. Several were wearing glasses – purely temporary - having found their vision unaccountably blurry that morning. All were wearing too much makeup, in an attempt to hide their new lines and wrinkles, though everyone tried to excuse the skin changes to fatigue. They moaned and complained together, talking about how tired and sore they were, and not noticing how their voices had dropped in register and were raspier, making them sound like a retiree bridge club getting ready for yoga.
Cameron worked her first round at the tables. She recognized the young man she’d seen the night before, but it looked like he had picked up a new date, or at least the woman with him looked much older than the girl the previous night. The odd thing was that she otherwise looked a lot like her – as though he’d switched to her older sister. Or even her mother, Cameron thought, as she took their orders. The woman looked close to 40, with noticeable facial lines and the sagging breasts of middle age, not at all flattered by her tight, low-cut shirt.
And speaking of sagging breasts, Angelina had taken the stage, and Cameron was shocked at how much older she looked under the house lights. Her soft breasts overflowed her bustier, and when she loosed the string to free them, they sagged low and heavy onto her stomach. They seemed to have lost all their youthful support, hanging sadly and flattening against her body. They had changed in ways other than shape as well. The nipples looked larger, and the areolas around them had expanded and darkened. The skin seemed looser, and prominent veins marked the skin.
Angelina seemed to dance hunched over a little, though Cameron wasn’t sure if that was due to the weight of her sagging breasts or the pain in her back she’d been complaining of. The effect added to the appearance of age, rounding her back like an old woman, accentuating the bulge of her tummy, and making her butt stick out more. Her stomach, thighs and ass cheeks all jiggled, as much from an apparent loss of muscle tone as an increased layer of fat.
She must have done something to her hair as well – it almost looked gray under the harsh spotlight of the stage, and the bright light seemed to highlight every new line and crease in her increasingly careworn face.
Those lights seemed to drain the life right out of Angelina as she danced. The lines on her face deepened, and her cheeks drooped. Her nose seemed to grow, becoming sharper and more hag-like. Her body became more and more tired. Soon, her steps became slower and more careful, and shortly thereafter, she was barely lifting her feet at all, more shuffling across the stage. Her breasts seemed to sag lower and lower on her chest, like deflating water balloons, as though losing whatever residual support they had. When she tried to shimmy out of her panties, she stumbled and seemed dizzy. She had to sit down, winded and panting, and ease them down her aching hips and legs.
By the time Angelina stood back up, Cameron didn’t even recognize the woman on stage. It looked as though someone’s plump grandmother had gone wild and tried to reclaim her youth by climbing onto the dance platform. Her face was lined and worn, her hair gray and wispy. Her large breasts hung like empty sacks, and her increasingly round, soft tummy threatened to overtake them as her dominant feature in profile. Her legs were flabby, the thighs plump and dimpled, though the calves looked spindly in comparison, and both were marred by a network of purplish veins.
And the guys went wild! People were yelling: “Awesome!” “Go, Granny!” “Flop those titties – oh yeah, that’s it!” And Angelina smiled and shuffled around the stage, shaking her drooping breasts and jiggling, pockmarked behind.
Cameron shook her head. It was amazing how hard a toll dancing could take. She vowed to quit long before she got old like that.
Though that was for the future. For now, Cameron took off her waitress apron and walked backstage, ready to start her own dance.
As usual, she wore a simple ultra-short, ultra-tight t-shirt and skirt to start out. Her chief assets were her youth and vitality: the California golden girl. All she had to do was tease them a little before revealing her incredibly perky, perfect breasts.
Except tonight they didn’t seem as perky or perfect. She had noticed before that the slight increase in size the last couple of days had served to make them hang differently, and the problem seemed to accelerate as she started dancing on stage. It was as though the spotlight was aging them before her eyes. She managed to wrestle off her too-tight shirt and began shaking her breasts seductively. But each shake seemed to make them sag and swing a little more. They became heavier and softer at the same time, moving from a pleasing roundness to teardrop shaped, and then continued to sag, becoming flatter at the top as the bottoms embraced gravity. Their skin became drier and thinner, making the veins stand out more. She embraced them lifting them up as though trying to make them ride high and proud again, but the sagging only got worse when she let them go.
She tried to concentrate on her dancing, ignoring the way her breasts drooped, but felt a strange weariness sap the energy from her body. Her legs felt heavy. Her knees ached. Her shoes began to pinch more and more, as her feet began to twist arthritically, the cumulative effects of years of dancing and heels affecting them in mere minutes. She felt winded and began sweating and panting.
Cameron’s “golden girl” looks had long since faded, and now her face showed the real effects of the ravaging years. The twinkle in her eye faded, leaving her eyes rheumy and dull. Lines sprang into being to frame them, then joined in a rapidly progressive network which highlighted her mouth and nose. Her cheeks hollowed, then began to slowly sag, as though melting under the lights. Her skin lost its youthful glow along with her beach-girl tan, becoming lax and sallow. Her blond hair became dull and listless, and the first streaks of gray began to seep into the edges.
Cameron was well into late middle age now, looking like a mother who hoped dancing could reclaim her youth. Her breasts hung low and swung heavily with her movements, and now the skin of her lower body changed, beginning to sag like her breasts. Her tummy lost its youthful firmness and pooched out. Puckers and wrinkles formed on her drooping breasts and tummy as the skin loosened. Her thighs became dimpled with cellulite, and varicose veins began to spread up her legs like growing ivy.
And still, Cameron danced, forcing her legs to move even though they felt like lead. She changed from mature woman, sailed through the last stages of middle age, and now began to look truly old. The last glimmers of youth and her once amazing healthy glow faded away. Her hair was a bleached blond-gray now, and was moving towards white. The skin on her arms and legs wrinkled and thinned, marred by more and more age spots as well. Her breasts lost size again, but regained none of their youthful perkiness, instead sagging sadly and almost emptily against her chest, like deflated balloons.
She unsnapped her panties, exposing gray, wispy pubic hair and the sagging sex of her aged pussy. Her thighs and ass were riddled with cellulite, and quivered from the combination of fat and lost muscle. The same age blotches discolored her once flawless legs, and her formerly trim, pert bottom sagged from several pounds of excess fat.
She pursed her lips as though kissing a man near the stage, setting off an explosion of wrinkles around suddenly thin, withered lips.