Photoshop Omega: Chantell

Shrugging, I clicked passed the opening screen. Here it wanted me to fill out some personal information. Standard stuff, but way more required fields than normal: name, age, occupation, favorite color? Who requires that on a form? Well, first thing I did was block the program's network access. Then I fired up a macro that fills that crap out for me. I typed "blue" into the favorite color line. I saw no reason to lie.

Finally, it insisted I put a username and password for my own profile. That also seemed weird, but who hates more security, I guess. I put my name as the username (together, no caps) and used my third variation of my fifth password. Finally, it launched the main window, but immediately asked if I wanted the tutorial. I laugh at your second-rate hacker-made tutorial, Photoshop Omega.

It only dismissed after assuring me I could find it again at any time from the help menu. That done, the familiar tools and layout of 'shop finally revealed themselves.

"Finally," I growled. "Who wasted so much time programing to add in that shit?"

Drag and dropping Chantell's photo, I got to work.

One small tapestry of subtle brushing, debuffing, and just a bit of masking later, it was finished. Even fillyish Chantell was transformed from average to refined. I could have done a lot more--her lips begged for plumping and glossing, and just a tiny bit more size to her eyes would up her attractiveness by at least 40%--but for ten bucks, this was as far as I went.

However, when I went to export the file as an image, instead launching the usual Windows interface, the damn thing saved it into some sort of internal filing system. I groaned. Non standard filing systems are the worst. Who wants to spend the time looking for where it arbitrarily decides to store files on your computer? Besides, I have a system, man. No dumb hack job messes with my system.

That was it. I was done with this piece of crap. I maximized the image, took a screen capture, and emailed it off to Chantell. She wouldn't be able to tell the quality difference, anyway. Then I closed that dick program, and pulled up a browser to look at other options. But just looking at them on the 'bay seemed to drain the energy from me. Whatever. I could just use one of the online free ones for a bit until I got something better.

By that time, my email inquiries had born fruit. And by fruit, I mean oranges, grapefruits, and melons. Maybe the occasional lemon. Some guys are into that.

So I pulled up a browser version that was halfway decent, and started to do what I do. It didn't take long for me to get a stiffy as I worked. I was touching up this smoking hot Asian--D tits, super glossy hair I was making even glossier, fucking herself in a recliner with a big red dildo with a great big O face--when I decided that my left hand and some lotion should do something productive while my right hand worked. And they say men can't multitask.

That was about when my bedroom door slammed open. I made the sound--damn you, Tony, I'll get that recording from you some day--and whirled to see what was the matter.

"Jake! You'll never believe--oh my God!"

Chantell paused at my doorway, recoiled. She was wearing that slightly tight blouse from the picture, and a different pair of skinny jeans, her hair slightly ruffled. Her eyes rested on my engorged dick for just an instant before she quickly turned away. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"This--this is just--" I sputtered, leaping to my feet and waving my hands, fumbling for an excuse. Then I suddenly stopped. "Wait a minute. What the hell are you thinking, coming in my room without knocking?"

"Something happened that--" she started, turned a bit to me, but then whipped back again. "God! Would you put that away already? I need to talk to you about something!"

I glared at her for a bit, defiantly pointing my cock in her direction. Then I grudgingly stuffed it back in my pants. I put my hands on my hips.

"There," I said. "Happy?"

Chantell glanced at me, and then at the screen. She made a face. "And that," she said, pointing.

I glanced at the partially touched-up babe on the screen. "That's work. Which is exactly what I was doing before you burst in here. Now are you going to tell me what the hell you want, are are you going to leave?"

Her mouth formed a tight line, and she glanced again at the Asian chick. "Those are so fake," she said.

"Of course they are. Part of my job is to make them even faker."

Chantell let out a huff. "Men are such pigs." She squared on me. "I need to talk to you about that picture you sent."

"What about it?"

"Well, did you do something... special with it?"

I frowned at her. "Not in particular. Brush work, mostly, a little masking. Didn't even use layers. Why?"

Chantell stared at me for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why?"

She looked at me for a several more seconds, biting her lip. "Well... just a minute before you sent it, I got this sudden... tingly feeling in my face. It went away after a moment, so I didn't think anything of it. But when I pulled up your email, I started to compare the photo you sent to the original. And then I got out a mirror, and..."

I blinked at her as she trailed off, holding her hands up toward me, as if pleading for comprehension. I only blinked at her for a moment. And then I took a step closer, squinting at her.

"Wait a minute," I said, stepping closer again. "Your face..."

Her acne was gone. Her skin was pristine, the pores nice and small, and her complexion was smooth and healthy. Gone was the pail and average face she'd shown up to my room with less than an hour ago.

I sat back in my chair and turned to my desk so quickly I might have given myself whiplash. My hands shook so badly as I launched the app that it took three tries to get my password right. And then it opened, just as I'd left it:

Photoshop Omega.

There were Chantell's three files. I took the time to look more closely: a backup, a mockup, and one simply labeled her name and 'Now'. I saw Chantell hovering over my shoulder in peripheral vision, but I honestly didn't care.

Breathing quickly, I opened the "Now" folder. There was the image I'd exported, the clean one of her edits. I took a quick glance between the real her and the image her. They were identical.

I licked my lips. "Uh... this is probably not actually happening," I said levelly, trying to breath slower. "But I feel like we should try something. Just in case."

Chantell nodded vigorously.

"Uh... what do you want me to do?" I asked.

She pursed her lips. "Well... try... try changing my eye color. But just of my left eye."

I considered that. It wasn't that difficult, but there were definitely a lot of quicker things we could have done for the test. Like, changing her skin color, or just writing something on her face. Whatever, I got this.

"Okay," I said, and selected her image to edit, and it flooded the edit screen again. I fired through the layers rapid fire, carefully selecting just her her left eye with a couple filters and my hand on the pen tablet. Normally I would have been quicker and smoother, but I was still a little shaky.

"Okay," I said, a bit hushed. "What color?"

Chantell bit her lip. "Something... noticeable. How about gold?"

My mouth twitched. Again, a primary color, or one I could copy from elsewhere would have been easier. But I was a master at this craft. With a quick Google search, some brush work, and some layering, I had it done. I zoomed out the image, with her left eye gleaming amber-gold like a cat reflected in light.

I looked at her. "You ready?"

She swallowed, and then nodded.

Holding my breath, I exported the image. It went to 'Chantell_Williams_Now'.

Chantell gasped, taking a quick step back and covering her eye. I got up quickly, taking a step toward her, but she suddenly stopped. Hand shaking a little, she moved it from her face, and blinked open her left eye.

It was amber-gold.

"Holy fucking god!" I blurted, staring at her.

Her eyes widened, and then she snatched her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She turned on the selfie-cam.

"Holy fucking god!" she said, gaping at her eye. "It's gold! It's really gold!"

I turned slowly back to my computer. I stared at the app, Photoshop Omega. "Holy shit," I said. "It's the fucking Photoshop version of Master PC!"

Chantell stared at me. "Version of what?"

I opened my mouth, but the words stuck there. "Nevermind, it would take too long to explain," I told her. "First, let's see if we can reverse it."

She suddenly looked at me wide eyed. "Oh shit, I didn't think of that!"

Working quickly, I pulled up the original image from the backup. It was before any edits. Taking a deep breath, I exported it to Chantell_Williams_Now. Chantell let out another slight gasp, and when I turned to her... she was just Chantell. The pale, normal, average Chantell.

She was looking at herself in her phone, a slight frown working it's way through her amazement. "Wow. It... it really works. You can fucking EDIT me."

While she was examining herself, I was taking a closer look at the program. Now that I took the time, I noticed a lot more items in the menus than I had before. Like in addition to the usual layer menu, there was a "Layer 𝛀". Several other menu's had extra lines with the symbol next to them. There was something in the brush tool called "Sensitivity" which I wasn't sure was about. What did it mean to brush something with "sensitivity" instead of it being a setting?

Suddenly, Chantell put her hand on my shoulder. I turned to look in her eyes. She had a strange expression on. It was a little scary.

"W-what?" I asked

"You know how to use this?" she asked. Her tone was hushed, intense.

"Well, yeah. I should go through stuff a bit more, but--"

"So you could... edit me? However I want?"

I opened my mouth, but it took a few seconds for words to form. "...y-yes, it looks that way."

She looked at me a long moment. Then she glanced at her touched up picture on one screen. Then the still-up hot Asian plugging herself on the other. Finally she met my eyes again.

"What would you say," she said slowly, eyes locked on mine, "to making a few... improvements for me?"

I swallowed. "Improvements?"

"Yes. Like first of all, put my face back like you had it just now. And then..."

She paused, and then straightened, looking down at herself. "First, I want to you tighten up my belly just a bit. Just a bit of tone, no big muscles. And then..."

She paused, her gaze now quite firmly on her breasts. If I were to guess, they were something between lemon and orange, and she had to go out of her way to pick outfits that gave them a boost. Finally, Chantell looked up at me.

"And then," she said, "I want you to give me just a bit of late growth spurt. Just a... half a size up. Nice and firm, nothing too big. But a boost." She leaned into me. "They absolutely MUST look natural. Do you hear me? MUST."

My face twitched. "Well... I could do that. But are you sure you just--"

"Quite sure," she said, that intensity never leaving her. "Just a half a size. Just a small boost."

I nodded slowly. "Uh... okay. If that's what you want. But..." I hesitated. "But you do realize that, in order for me to do that, I would need a picture of you."

She nodded at the screen. "What's wrong with that one?"

I considered it. "Well," I said slowly, trying to keep my voice even, "if you notice in that picture, your breasts aren't showing. If you want me to... 'boost' them, I'm going to need a picture of you, uh, with them visible. Your belly, too."

Now, I wasn't strictly sure this was true. Who knew what hidden treasures a magical program that could edit people in real life held? But one thing was for sure: a little pale and willowy she might be, I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

Chantell's eyes widened. And then narrowed, dangerously. She glared daggers into me. She took a step back, her face twitching. I thought for a moment she was going to turn it all down right there.

"You need a topless photo of me." Her voice was iron hard.

"Well, yes. Probably front and back, if you want it thorough."

"...you're sure?"

I spread my hands. "How can I edit what I can't see? I could blend some other person's boobs onto your body, but is that what you want?"

She stared at me a long moment. Her tongue clicked. "No. I suppose not."

"Well, then..."

She glared at me. "And I suppose you have a camera right here."

"Well, I do work with photos for a living."

"Can't I just use my camera phone? Do it by myself?"

"You could, but that wouldn't be very high resolution. If you want it done exactly how you like, it would be better for a clearer picture, I think. And I would see it either way, you know."

Chantell's jaw tightened. She continued to stare me down. "If my mom ever finds out about this," she said, voice full of threat, "I will fuck you over like you wouldn't believe. Do you hear me?"

I held up my hands. "Loud and clear. Now, do you want to go close my door, or do you want to risk her finding out herself?"

Chantell's face twitched again, and she whirled to slam the door shut. But before it fully closed, she stopped, and very quietly shut it instead. She turned to face me. She took a deep breath.

"Right then," she said, face stern. "Might as well get this over with." She made it sound like she'd just been given 100 hours of community service scooping doggy doo in public parks.

She reached down, and crossing her arms, and started to pull up her shirt. They she paused, and fixed me with a glare.

"Camera, remember?"

I blinked, and then turned just enough sideways to get my Nikon from where it hung on it's strap on the wall. I got it out quickly enough that she was barely pulling the blouse over her head when I focused back on her. She wore a white push up bra, and it did it's job reasonably well. Chantell tossed the blouse down nearby, and reaching back, undid the strap. She hesitated.

Look, Chantell was no cover model. But she wasn't a walrus or anything either. And she was my step sister, who I'd lived with for a couple years. And she was stripping off her top in my bedroom, for me to take a picture of. So sue me if my cock, which had softened after being distracted from my work, started to firm up again in my pants.

She made one final face, and then pulling off the bra quickly, Chantell tossed it down on top of her blouse. She tried to stand defiantly, but it was ruined just a little bit by the pink in her upper cheeks. It also took a few seconds for her arms to come down completely.

Actually, she was better than I thought. Her areola were a nice size, very even, and her shape good. And they were very firm--as you'd expect from an 18 year old. The overall bust size notwithstanding. And she was right about her belly--just a little more tone would do her a lot of good.

"Well?" she snapped. "Are you going to take the picture or not?"

I cleared my throat, and busied myself with turning the camera on, removing the lens cap, and setting it to portrait. The lighting wasn't great, though, so I set the lights in front of the door to high--gotta love LED lights. They did a reasonable job of brightening the space, just above her and to the front.. She squinted a little before her eyes got used to it.

"Okay," I said, looking through the viewfinder. "We'll take two of the front and two of the back. Sound good?"

"Whatever," she said. "Just hurry."

"Fine, fine," I muttered. "One, two, three... done. Second one. One, two, three done. Okay, now turn."

Chantell turned sharply on her heel, pointing her back to me. I counted down, taking two more photos.

"Done," I told her. She bent and snatched her bra back up, and got it on and clipped faster than I could take a given article of clothing *off*. Her blouse soon followed, which she was smoothing back into place by the time I'd gotten the camera turned off and the SD card out.

"God, I feel gross," she said, holding herself. I ignored her and put the SD card in my USB reader, and pulled the pictures into Omega.

I paused. "You know," I said carefully, "it really doesn't help if you're hovering right over me."

Chantell sniffed. "Tough rocks. I'm staying right here to make sure you don't--"

"Chantell!" Sharon's voice suddenly called from upstairs. Chantell jumped, half turning to the door. She hurried to it, cracking it open.

"What is it, Mom?" she called back.

"Your friends are here!"

"Oh, shit," she said quietly. "I forgot we were going to go shopping." She looked at me, and then up toward the first floor, and then back at me.

"Chantell?" Sharon called.

"Oh, god, fine," Chantell muttered, and then shouted, "Coming!" She whirled on me. "Just do the changes I talked about, but DON'T activate them until I get back, do you hear me? Just do a mock up. Do NOT save them. I'll be back in a couple hours."

I raised my hands. "Fine, sure. I can do that."

She glared at me for a moment more. Then she patted herself down, as if making sure she had everything, and then with one last dirty look, rushed out, shutting the door hard.

I blinked at that a moment. Then I started to slowly turn back to my desk. The door slammed open again.

"One last thing," Chantell said. "Save that first photo you saved earlier first. The one where you touched up my face only."

I rolled my eyes, but complied. This time, I turned to watch as I hit the export box.

It was interesting. The changes seemed to flow over her, long coming out in a wave. Acne rolled away, complexion evened, skin tightened. They were all subtle changes--masterfully small improvements that kept her face as it was, but improved. She gave herself a quick look in her hand mirror. She smiled.

"Oh, god, yes," she said warmly. "I don't even have to use makeup." Then she turned to go again, halfway out the door she paused *again*, and pointed at me. "If you screw this up, I will kill you. No changes until I come back."

And then she was gone.

My face twitched. "Super bitch."

***

Well, now that I didn't have the pressure of Chantell hovering over me, I could relax a little bit more. The first thing I did was get some Pepsi out of my mini fridge, ready at my elbow. And then I did the only logical thing that a man who somehow downloads a magical program that lets him edit reality should do:

I took a dick pick.

Listen, I'm not exactly a prize. In my defence: I'm not too fat or too skinny, I brush and shower regularly, and I'm not a mess of acne. But other than that, I'd say I fall just a bit behind the bell-curve of attractiveness. I didn't really mind--at least, I'd gotten pretty used to the fact that getting laid was something of a function of how drunk the girl was.

But if there's one thing that can change that, almost all by itself, it's having a big, pussy-stretching, gravity-defying cock.

So having taken the picture, still pretty stiff from staring at both my hot Asian chick and my step sister's topless form, I got to work... improving it. This is not nearly as enjoyable as work on women. But there were sausagey mountains of examples I could pull from online, getting one at just the right color and angle, blending it via layers and masks to my own.

Finally it was finished. My heart was beating hard---it would be incredibly terrible if something somehow went wrong---but I exported it.

The sensation was... like pouring a dabble of hot water on the hand of an arm that you'd been lying on, and had fallen asleep. Only since it was my dick, a little more alarming. But after a moment, the feeling cleared, and I dared to look down. I had a huge 10 inch python of fuck between my legs. My ballsack seemed suddenly tight in my pants, and I had to pull the crotch of my jean and boxers away from me to adjust to it.