Cursed Costumes (Pokemon Costume TF) (Patreon)

This one took a while longer to get written than I would have liked - apologies! I was a little snowed under. But now, here it is, the result of your vote for Pokemon Gals and a cursed costume store. Enjoy!

(Hopefully I have the characters broadly recognizable - I haven't checked back in on Pokemon in nearly 20 years ^^;

-

“Is this really necessary?” Lusamine sighed, stepping into the costume shop with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “I’m a busy woman, I have far more important things to do with my time than this. I don’t see why you insist on me being here in person.”

“Because, Lusa…” said the blonde champion who followed her in. “A good costume needs to fit its wearer properly. And besides, you spend too much time at work.” She gave her irritated companion a gentle smile. “You need to get out of the office from time to time.”

If the Aether Foundation president found that argument convincing, she certainly hid it well. “Cynthia, please. You don’t get anywhere in this world if you weren’t willing to work for it. I’ve already agreed to attend this fancy-dress party – why must you make it more difficult?”

Of course, the idea that she would miss the biggest ball of the pokeworld season was ludicrous – everyone who was anyone would be there, a prime opportunity for networking and deal making. But Lusamine was nothing if not stubborn.

Fortunately, Cynthia was patient enough to match her easily, ushering the reluctant CEO further into the shop. “If you want this to be over quickly then find yourself a costume, and we can be done. That’s all you have to do.”

“Tch.” The first blonde sniffed haughtily – but none the less, did as she was bidden. The Sinnoh league champion was just as wilful as she was when she wanted to be. That was probably the reason she’d been the one sent to make sure she got a good costume, now that she thought about it. Best to just go along with it for now. “How annoying…”

Then she paused, her eyes alighting upon the rows upon rows of costumes that this store provided. Interesting – this shop hadn’t looked nearly so big from the outside. They had quite a collection in here. Including… Oh ho ho, what was this? She stepped forward and plucked a dress from the rack, a grey and black number with a bit of a futuristic theme. It was an outfit she recognised from seeing it on the news a year or two back - one that would give her just an ounce of revenge over on the blonde who’d dragged her into this.

“Here!” She said, her tone full of chip and cheer as she pushed her choice of costume into a surprised Cynthia’s hands. “You need a costume as well, right? I think this one will suit you!”

The champion looked down at the outfit, a blonde eyebrow slowly rising. “Team Galactic. How… charming.” Then she looked up, and smiled. “Very well then.”

Lusamine blinked, finding herself taking a step back. “You- you accept?”

The smile didn’t waver. “Of course. I did need to find myself a costume, after all. And since you’ve chosen mine, that means I can choose yours, yes?”

“Ah…”

“Quite a time saver, since I know you might find yourself spoiled for choice in here. But as it happens, I did see a costume I thought you might find amusing to wear for an evening…” The champion’s eyes glinted, and Lusamine remembered much too late that the woman could give just as good as she got – a feeling that was confirmed when she looked at the outfit Cynthia had selected for her.

“A maid outfit?! You-“ She sent Cynthia a withering glare, before looking at the other blonde’s costume. She was pretty sure she was getting off the best here, but she wasn’t entirely sure. They’d have to compare while actually wearing their costumes. But if Cynthia could pull off looking like a minor criminal grunt, she could handle looking like an elegant maid, right? “… Very well. Shall we try them on?”

As the two vanished off into the changing room, the bell over the door tinkled, and two more ladies stepped inside.

“See? I told you we’d find a place! And wow, look at the selection! Oh, this is perfect, we’re sure to find a pair of costumes here!” Serena, the fair haired fashionista, led the way, clapping her hands eagerly as she looked around the store’s massive stock.

“Weird,” said the red haired woman behind her, the ever famous leader of the Cerulean gym, Misty, “I don’t remember seeing this place around before. Is it new?”

“It must be,” Serena said with a shrug, not really caring about the hows or whens of this mysterious store, as long as she got a fashionable new outfit to wear! “Now come on – there must be something in here that suits you!”

Misty sighed as she followed her excitable friend down into the aisles, glancing through the racks of clothing. Costumes weren’t really her thing, unless they were swimming costumes, and even if they were she doubted she could match Serena’s enthusiasm. “I don’t know, any idea what I should pick?”

“How aboooutt…” The brunette spun about for a second, her keen eyes searching, before she reached out and snatched an outfit from a rack. “This one! Ta-dah!”

Misty looked at it. Then at her. Then back at it. “Um. Are you sure that would fit…?” It looked a hell of a lot more revealing than the stuff she normally wore – and that said something for the swimsuit wearing head of a water gym – plus, it seemed the kind of outfit that was designed for someone with a larger… figure than hers…

“Definitely!” Serena wouldn’t be dissuaded, though, and pushed the clothes into her friend’s hands. “It’ll suit you down to the ground! Go put it on, you’ll see.”

“Hooo boy,” the redhead muttered – but with Serena on a roll, it was best to just do as she said. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. Do you have a costume yet?”

“No, but.. Oh, hey.” The brunette plucked another one from the rack. “How about I try this one on and keep you company?” She held it up, smiling. “See, this one’s a terrible match for me – so if I’ll try on this one, you’ve got to try on yours. Solidarity, right?”

The costume was a shirt and black slacks, along with a pair of thick rimmed glasses – and Misty thought she caught a glimpse of a pocket protector in its breast pocket. Oh yes, this was definitely the reverse costume of everything Serena was. “Alright,” she said with a chuckle, nervously holding her costume to her chest. “Lets try it out – though if I look stupid, I’m throwing this thing in the trash, got it?”

“Got it, got it~” Serena giggled, dancing away towards the changing rooms, Misty following in her wake. “Don’t worry, this’ll be fun!”

-

Four women stepped into the changing room, none of them noticing the way the doors glowed as they closed behind them. And slowly, each of them began to get changed.

Cynthia was the quickest, easily shuffling out of her long dark coat and hanging it up, before unclasping her top and sliding out of her slacks, her shoes shuffled straight under the provided bench. Soon, she was down to just her underwear – and she turned her attention to the costume she had hanging up on a hook.

“Of all the things,” she sighed, remembering all too well the group who had worn this particular uniform. But Team Galactic was all in the past now – and it wasn’t like anyone would ever mistake her for an actual thug. Please, she was Cynthia – Champion of Sinnoh, and world renown adventurer!

And standing around wasn’t going to get this costume on! So…

She slid the pants on first – heavy and silvery things that they were, designed like a kind of space suit. At first she thought they would be too short, and that she’d have to go find another costume entirely – not exactly an unwelcome idea – but to her surprise the leggings unfolded up to her waist without issue, silver clinging to her hips tightly. Of course, she didn’t notice the magical glow that filled her changing room, or the way her legs and hips shrank as she rolled those leggings up, her body losing height by inches as she went, her stature diminishing from heroic to average.

Nor did she notice that self-same glow as she pulled the top on next, those same silver segments now sliding over her arms, while a feminine dress-like chest piece unfurled, covering her from shoulder to waist. Of course, that piece too seemed too tight when she first went to don it – but after the purple light surrounding her stole the definition of her arms, a few more inches of height from her frame, and a touch of size from her chest, it fit as snugly as if it had been made exactly for her!

“Impressive,” she murmured as she realised what a good fit it actually was – but her tone was dull and distracted, her normally certain and determined core faltering for some reason. She felt oddly… distracted? No. She felt… lost. Unsure. As if she was missing her purpose in life. But that was nonsense – she knew who she was… didn’t she?

The uncertainty only grew as she pulled on her white, knee-length boots, the fuzz in her head growing louder until she could barely think past the white static. She was… She was… Um…

A glance in the mirror, seeing that long blonde hair, reminded her for a moment. Right! Champion, guardian, researcher, she was-!

But then, acting almost on their own, her hands shoved a small pageboy-like cut wig down on her head, locks of turquoise covering, then replacing blonde as the purple magic ran through her. Her face shifted, her features being rewritten to remove the last traces of Cynthia, leaving nothing but averageness behind.

She blinked at herself – grey eyes turning a dull turquoise, the same as her hair – and saw nothing but a Team Galactic grunt. Naturally – because that was what she was. A completely average, completely un-notable, member of a criminal group. A thug, and nothing more.

“Huh,” she said, her voice forgettably average, though tinged with malice. “Though I saw somethin’ there. Wonder what the boss’d make of it…?”

Unnoticed at her side, her former clothes were folded away, disappearing into a costume pack of their own – the last traces of Cynthia the Champion being spirited away to hang on the costume store’s clothing racks for another customer.

-

Lusamine grumbled, but didn’t waste too much time as she slid out of her fashionably professional dress. Ugh, this was just a touch humiliating, but maybe it would suit her image – the warm and caring head of Aether should be able to make a few jokes about her position, no? And besides, it wasn’t as bad as the costume she’d chosen for Cynthia… probably. Best to just get on with it.

First, on with the dress – a short, black little number with white frills. It slid on easily enough. Maybe it was a bit big for her, but- Oh, no, huh! It fit perfectly! She gave her hips a little wiggle, surprised at the comfort of the clothes made for a servitor – and completely oblivious to the way her behind had swelled up to fit the garment. A smug smile crossed her lips – she knew she looked good for her age, and she was going to pull this off with style.

Next was the corset, which she pulled on, fumbling with the laces behind her back. It went easily at first, but by the final knot it was feeling rather tight – because, of course, her waist had trimmed, and her breasts had grown while her fingers busied themselves with the clasps. By the time she was done, her figure had moved from a woman who looked after herself to a firm and fine hourglass – all trace of her well hidden advanced years vanishing like they had never been.

Another grin in the mirror. Oh hell yes, she made this look good.

Stockings next, and the CEO sighed in contentment as the dark lace slid up her legs. Mm, this felt nice. And they really showed off her killer legs – now 20% more lethal after the costume’s magic had been at them! Ah, but she couldn’t stop here, she was on the clock! … Ah, wait, wasn’t she? Huh, that was a weird thought…

Her heels slipped on easily, and she balanced on them with the grace of a ballerina despite their height – of course she did, she’d been working in these things for years… Hadn’t she? Uh…

Lusamine the president of Aether blinked at herself in the mirror, her head feeling fuzzy. That was odd – she felt like she had two sets of memories in her head. One as a somewhat ruthless CEO of a large group, a rich woman dedicated to her goals… While the other was of a nameless servitor, a woman who lived exclusively for the enjoyment of others, whether that be by fetching their needs, or tending to their desires. The two lives were entirely at odds with each other, and yet both seemed equally real. Who… Who was she?

In her confusion, she didn’t notice as her hands automatically reached for the last piece of her costume, and then carefully set the white lace tiara upon her head. But that confusion cleared instantly a moment later, as her professionally coiffed hair suddenly restyled itself into long blonde ringlets that framed her face. “Mon dieu!” She exclaimed, hands pressing into her cheeks in shock as she gazed at her reflection. “I cannot be this hanging around! Zut alors, I have the work to be doing!”

She turned, and tottered out of the changing room on her high heels – paying no mind to the Aether President costume being folded away and sent to a costume rack behind her…

-

Serena was only delayed by a little fussing with her regular outfit, an opportunity provided by the full length mirror waiting for her in her changing room. Hey, even if she was getting changed, that didn’t mean she was throwing away her old clothes, thank you! See, this was the mark of a true fashionista – care for the outfit even when no one else would see. That was proper ‘Who you are in the dark’ stuff, that was – and Serena? Well, she was a fashion maestro~

But, all good things come to an end, and so, reluctantly, she began to strip, carefully setting her outfit aside, neatly folded, on the bench at the side of the room. Then, once properly divested and down to her underwear, she took another look at the costume she’d chosen. In truth? It was hideous – the most basic of the basic, the most unfashionable of the fashions. Honestly, she doubted even she could pull of the miraculous feat of making this look good… But that was why she had to try! You could never improve your skills if you never challenged yourself, after all~

So she began with the shirt, white and neatly pressed, pulling its short sleeves down her arm and folding the body around herself, nimbly doing up the buttons, before pausing. Odd – she’d definitely picked a costume that would fit her (as if she wouldn’t pay attention to the sizes!) and yet… this one felt tight around her shoulders. Was it a size too small? Ah, how embarrassing… Well, she couldn’t be blamed for making such a mistake – not when the magic changing room was already at work! In this case, the mere act of putting on the shirt had been enough for her body to grow a touch lankier – her arms and body growing just a bit longer than she was used to. Nothing major, the clothes still fit – but it was enough to get a certain image across.

An image that only grew stronger when she pulled on the black slacks that came with the costume, her legs growing just long enough that the leggings hitched up whenever she took a step. “Ah..” She frowned, looking down as she took some test steps. “Weird, I was shure I measured it right… Huh?” Weird. She clicked her tongue, wondering where that weird lisp had come from. Hm, maybe she needed a drink. Oh well – what was left…?

The shoes slid on easily, with a slight tingle as her tendons lengthened – removing all evidence that she’d ever worn anything with a heel bigger than a slip of paper – and her sense of balance vanished in a wave of dizziness. “Hooo, I needsh a resht,” she mumbled, tongue pressing against her braces as the general fitness of a world wandering Pokémon specialist disappeared. “I feel like I jusht ran a marathon…”

After that came the bow tie, with clasped easily around her neck, resting against her chest, which had grown larger, though it was still hidden beneath her fully buttoned shirt. She stared at herself in the mirror. Gawd, she looked like a… like a…

Absently, she slid her glasses on – thick, coke bottle lenses in black frames – and blinked, her eyes adjusting to her now prescription specs brought the world into focus, while the magic tied her hair into short, scruffy pigtails.

“Heeeyyy…” she snorted shooting finger guns at herself,” I make thish look good!”

Had Serena the fashionista of five minutes ago seen herself now, she would have screamed. As it was though, there was only Serena the nerd, who suddenly realised that she was in a changing room with a lot of other scantily dressed ladies in the other cubicles…

And as she quickly hurried to see if there were any doors she could peek under, she didn’t give a second – or even first – thought to the fashionista costume that was being taken away behind her.

-

Misty took the longest to get changed – mostly just spending her time glaring at either them mirror, or at the costume her friend had provided for her. Could she really wear this? It didn’t look like it would fit – it absolutely wouldn’t fit! There was no way! You needed, you know, boobs to make a thing like this top fit, big ones! And those shorts, they’d fall off someone with hips like hers, surely?

The tomboy, it should be noted, had something of a body image issue – having grown up around far more endowed women, amongst other issues. It was a thing she struggled with. The costume wasn’t that bad a fit, even before the magic got to work.

But she certainly wouldn’t have any complaints once she got started, which inevitably she did, muttering to herself about how she’d give it a go, just so she could tell Serena she’d tried. Shorts and trainers off, top discarded, with the casual proficiency of a swimmer who spent a lot of time getting changed for the water. And then…

On with the shorts. They were pink, and designed to be tight around a plush posterior – so she was surprised when she struggled to pull them on. W-weird. Were they smaller than she thought?

Obviously, no – they were just as big as ever. It was only the booty that they contained that had changed size, swelling from slim to slamming, her cheeks now hogging every inch of fabric they could, easily too big for the clothing that tried to keep them in. But Misty was oblivious to this, and just wanted to get this over with quickly – so on went the top, pulled over her head and down over her chest, where it would surely sag.

Except, again, it did not, leaving the water gym leader with a giant question mark over her head. She looked down at her chest, seeing the big, bouncy boobs that filled – nay, overfilled her pink halter top waiting for her, and blinked. “Huh,” she said, tapping a finger against her cheek. “I like, guess it did fit after all! Awesome, I thought for sure it’d get stuck~!”

She cheered and bounced in place, having already completely forgotten her certainty that the top would be too large, instead sure she’d been worried it would be too small. And, to be fair, it certainly was too small, her breasts far, far larger than her head now, and providing extensive over and under cleavage… But the top did at least fit, and showed no sign of snapping. As far as the new Misty was concerned, that was practically snug!

The last element she needed was her heels, and she slid them on without a thought – in fact, she really wasn’t thinking much at all by this point, her head having swiftly drained of smarts even as her body had quickly inflated full of sexy. She giggled and blew her reflection a kiss, even as her hair slipped out of its customary style and became a honey red, almost blonde cascade down her shoulders to the small of her back. “Hey there beauty~” She giggled, almost forgetting that this was her that she was flirting with. “You’re like, super hot stuff. Who needs a costume when you look this fine?”

She definitely didn’t need a costume herself anymore – her old clothes already stolen away and stored as a Gym Leader costume on a rack near the back. So, snatching up her purse, she sent one last wink at the mirror, and headed out the door – Her boobs bouncing every step of the way.

“Ooof!”

… At least, until she walked flat into someone as soon as she stepped out of her cubicle. “Oopsie!” The brainless beauty giggled, looking down at the oddly familiar face buried in her mountain of cleavage. “Sorry! I, like, didn’t see you there!”

“’Shokay~” Said the ‘unfortunate’ woman, who reluctantly pulled away, blood dripping from their nose. “I wash jusht, uh, pashing through!”

“Huh.” Misty looked at the strangely flushed nerd. Her face rang a distant, cotton candy muffled bell, but… nah. “Are you okay? You’re, like, totally bleeding!”

“Oh, um, it’sh nothing!” The glasses wearing gal waved her off, dabbing her nose with a hanky. “It happensh all the time!”

Weird. Oh well, whatever. Misty wasn’t gunna worry her empty head about it. “’Kay! I better get going then – I gotta stand around on Route 5 and see if any boys wanna battle n’ stuff~”

“Oh, you’re a pokemon trainer?” The nerd asked, sounding surprised.

“Like, yeah, duh! I’m the number one beauty on Route 5~” Misty giggled and struck a pose, completely missing how even more blood spurted from the nerd’s nose. “I like, love battles! And if boys beat me I let ‘em play with my boobs as a reward~ I’m, like, super popular.”

“W-w-wow…” The bespeckled pigtailed girl gaped at her.

The beauty smiled. “Maybe I’ll see you there, cutie~” she said, strutting away, the bell over the door tinkling as she left the costume shop off to her new life.

She completely missed Serena the nerd fainting dead away behind her – or the fretting blonde maid Lusamine rushing away down the street past her as she hurried to get back to her Master’s mansion, hoping her employer wouldn’t be too upset at her tardiness. And she certainly paid no mind to the nameless, faceless goon who slipped off into the shadows, looking to swear allegiance to the cause of whatever nefarious group could use a mindless mook in their ranks.

And why should she? None of them were important people – it wasn’t like she’d missed seeing a world renown champion, or a famous CEO, or a close friend. They were just random nobodies, just like her.

And behind her, inside a costume shop that neither Misty, or any of her friends, would ever see again, the costumes of a Champion, a President, a Fashionista, and a Gym Leader hung empty on their hooks – waiting for the day someone would choose to wear them.

And until then, they, and their former owners, would be nothing more.