Rent negotiation The Remote of Transformation chapter 8 by deleted_user

Mrs. Hargrove stood there in the shredded remains of her floral blouse and mom jeans, hands planted on her newly narrow waist, massive perky tits heaving with every grumpy breath. The torn denim hung off her wide, heart-shaped ass.

“Alright, you three degenerates,” she growled in that same gravelly, chain-smoker voice. “Explain what the hell did you just do to my body. How am I suddenly almost 50 years younger?”

Vince couldn’t stop laughing, his deep new baritone booming as he flexed one massive arm. “Mrs. H, you’re a fuckin’ smoke show now! Early twenties, blonde bombshell with tits that could stop traffic and an ass that won’t quit. Admit it—you look hotter than your divorce photos probably ever did.”

Paul stepped forward, cheeks burning, trying to be the responsible one. “Ma’am, we’re really sorry. Vince got carried away. We can change you back right now if—”

“Hold up, Paulie,” Brandon interrupted smoothly, gliding forward in his pink silk robe with all the confidence of a runway model. He eyed Mrs. Hargrove’s new hourglass figure with pure aesthetic appreciation, like he was judging a fashion show. “Look at those proportions. The waist-to-hip ratio is chef’s kiss. The hair, the legs, the whole package. Darling, you are serving body. Even if the attitude is still pure trailer-park royalty.”

Mrs. Hargrove narrowed her bright blue eyes. “Flattery ain’t gonna get your rent paid, sparkle britches. These new hips are making my back feel weird—too much arch. And these tits keep bouncin’ every time I move. Feels like I’m carryin’ two goddamn bowling balls up front. Don't know how I ever did it. But…” She paused, giving her plump ass an experimental slap. The loud clap made even her pause. “…damn if I don’t look even better than I did at 20. Back then I was already pushin’ out my second kid and eatin’ ramen every night.”

Vince grinned, still casually holding the growing bulge in his shorts. “Here’s the deal, Mrs. H. You stay like this—hot young bombshell, cranky personality and all—and we wipe out all the back rent. Plus, half off going forward. No more late fees, no more threats. You just… hang out sometimes, maybe join movie nights. Sound fair?”

Mrs. Hargrove crossed her arms under her massive new breasts, pushing them up even higher. She grumbled. “Half off? You little shits think you can just zap my body into some porn star and lowball me? I oughta call the cops and tell ‘em you roofied me with some sci-fi bullshit.”

Paul cleared his throat politely. “We could make it two months free instead of half off? And we promise not to use the remote on you again without permission.”

Brandon fluttered his lashes. “Plus, darling, we’ll help you with a new wardrobe. Those torn mom jeans are doing you zero favors. I have excellent taste.”

She harrumphed, shifting her weight so her wide hips swayed. After a long pause, she squinted at her reflection again, muttering, “These legs do go on forever now… and the skin’s smoother than a baby’s ass.” Another grumble. “Fine. You got a deal, you perverted little freaks. But if I catch any of you starin’ at my new rack too long, I’ll smack the shit outta ya. And somebody better order me a pizza—I don't know what your remote did but I'm hungry as hell.”

Vince whooped and pumped his fist. “Yes! Welcome to the crew, Hot Hargrove!”

Mrs. Hargrove rolled her eyes, but there was a tiny, reluctant smirk on her plump young lips as she adjusted her torn blouse over her cleavage. “Call me Linda from now on, assholes. Mrs. Hargrove makes me sound like an old bag… even if I still feel like one on the inside.”

She gave her ass one more experimental wiggle.