Kristin Norris entered the dressing room carrying her leatherbound portfolio, a package of hosiery emblazoned with a label that read "New Images: Body Suits for a New Body", and a lot of mixed emotions.

The portfolio contained several professional, glamorous and expensive photos of Kristin made by a local fashion photographer. Her friends and family had been extremely skeptical at first about Kristin’s decision to go into modeling, especially with – as her Aunt Tildy tried to say kindly – her ‘large bone structure.’ But once they understood that, large bone structure or not, Kristin wanted to be a model, knowledgeable friends had strongly urged her to pay whatever it takes and get some classy photos taken.

Unfortunately, the staff handing out assignments here at Hose Queen, Inc. headquarters had not even bothered to look at her portfolio – or at any of the other prospective models’ photos. They apparently had simply taken a brief look at all the girls who had been invited for this special modeling session, and then given each girl the type of hosiery she was to model, and directions to their separate dressing rooms. Kristin had been passed over for several other girls, and had thought that maybe her initial invitation was a mistake. But finally, a Hose Queen representative had approached her, given her a package of hosiery to try on, and detailed directions to her assigned dressing area.

"At least the dressing room is decent," Kristin thought out loud as she stepped into the room, tossed her portfolio on a sofa, and took a look around. The short haired blonde had been sure she was headed to some dingy converted storage closet when her directions led her far from the office suite, toward the clanging of pots and bustle of cooking activity in the large kitchen located in this wing of the office complex. Seeing all the wall signs pointing to the Kitchen or Dining Area, Kristin at first thought she would wind up having to strip and change in front of the company chefs. That thought was quickly replaced by a brief surge of negative thinking. Maybe this was a cruel joke by the Hose Queen people. After seeing Kristin’s size, and deciding they weren’t interested in having a line of plus size hosiery, this was their way of eliminating Kristin from the fashion shoot. Send her to the kitchen, and let her eat, while we photograph the beautiful, and thin, women . . . .

No! Kristin had to stop herself in negative mid-stream. She had been invited personally to come to this shoot. The people from Hose Queen, including the famous and fashionable head of the company, Magdalena Cartier, had recognized Kristin as an attractive and sexy large sized woman. And they wanted her to model a new product line, with a style especially designed for women of larger size who wanted to show the world what their bodies had to offer. So, Kristin Norris, get off that ‘fat loser’ thinking, right now!

That self-dialogue worked, and was reinforced by the large attractive dressing room she had been given just up the hall from the kitchen. The sofa, comfortable chairs, expensive end tables and lamps obviously were meant for a tasteful photo session. The full-length mirror with mahogany frame and pedestal near the back wall would be very helpful for dressing, and a lovely backdrop for more artful camera shots. And there was a small table covered with white linen, and a fruit basket centerpiece, near the dressing room door. But other than the fruit basket, there was no food in the area, so Kristin could finally lay that cruel "let her eat" joke business to rest.

After looking around the room for a few moments, Kristen finally took a close look at the package of hosiery she had been given. Self-doubt was replaced by doubt about the fashion knowledge of the Hose Queen staff. Because of her larger size, Kristin had expected a type of hosiery more in line with what she had seen in other lingerie catalogs featuring plus sizes. A lacy bustier with matching colored nylons and garters, perhaps. Maybe even a control top pair of pantyhose, with the color change top flashed by a short or lifted skirt. Almost anything but what she had been given.

She looked at the package one more time, just to be sure. It was the same thing she had incredulously seen the first time. A full-length, neck to toe, long sleeved, completely sheer, nylon bodysuit. There must be some mistake. Surely this bodysuit was meant for one of the thinner, no, ‘other’ girls. The large sized model began to panic. She tried to stay positive. She knew she was attractive, and she knew she had what it took to be another Emme. She also knew that all she needed was one big break, and she had been so sure that the chance to participate in this special shoot would be that break.

But not in a full-length body suit. She had worn body suits before. All different kinds: discount brands, expensive mail order brands, one size fits all, size specific. It didn’t matter what kind she wore, every one had looked terrible on her. Whether under a fancy gown or a short sexy skirt, or even as provocative attire before a planned night of passion. They had all been too tight in some places, and hung too loose in others. And now, with this one shot at entering big time modeling, Kristin was going hunting with blanks, and a gun that backfired, to boot.

Maybe there had been some mistake. She opened the door of the dressing room, hoping to find one of the Hose Queen staff and ask if she could have a different pair of hosiery. She looked down the hall from where she had came, but there was no sign of anyone. Then she heard voices a few doors down the other way, and hoped there would be someone who could help her. But her heart caught in her throat when she saw the head of Hose Queen, Inc, Magdalena Cartier, talking to an older man in a chef’s hat and white apron.

Kristin ducked back in her dressing room, closed the door, and stood with her back against it. Complaining to an underling was one thing. But telling the incomparable Magdalena Cartier that she had made a mistake in hosiery selection was out of the question. What could she do? Risk getting laughed out of the modeling business before she even got started because of a baggy bodysuit? Or risk getting thrown out of the one of the most prestigious garment makers in the world for questioning the expertise of a legend? Talk about a rock or a hard place.

The short-haired blonde cracked open the door to look down the hall. She heard Ms. Cartier say, "Your girls should be here soon" to the ‘chef,’ and then the beautiful owner headed back toward the administrative wing. She would pass right by Kristin’s door. It was decision time. The hopeful model took a deep breath, hoped that honesty was indeed the best policy, and swung the door open. Magadalena had already passed, but Kristin plumbed enough breath to call out, "Ms. Cartier! May I ask you something?"

The ‘Queen’ of Hose Queen stopped and looked back. Kristin walked up to her, somehow managing to stay erect on her wobbly knees and feet.

"I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, uhh, Ms. Cartier. My name is Kristen Norris. I’m one of the models you invited for this late night session." Kristen silently scolded herself for talking as if Magdalena Cartier would be wondering why a fat girl was accosting her in the hall.

"Yes, Ms. Norris. I remember you. I believe you’re going to be wearing one of our New Images bodysuits," the executive said in a friendly, but ‘make this quick, I’m a busy woman’ kind of tone.

"That’s right. And I’m very honored. But, well, it’s the style I’ve been given. It’s a lovely bodysuit, I’m sure, but I don’t really think I would look very good . . ." Kristin stopped in mid-sentence as three young, attractive, and thin models came down the hall, headed toward a dressing room a few doors past Kristin’s. Their conversation died down when they heard Kristin talk about her looks, and they walked quietly past, nodding politely to Magdalena Cartier, and staring rather critically at Kristin and her physique. There was even a quiet giggle among the girls further down the hall.

Whatever courage Kristin had mustered to approach the fashion legend had wilted under the glance of the attractive visitors. The plus-sized hopeful was just about to apologize to Ms. Cartier and turn tail, when the hosiery magnate spoke up:

"I certainly appreciate your daring, Ms. Norris. You’re the first person to try our new PORC-el-INE Twist shade. The other New Images suits have been very successful. But we know that bodysuits are not always complimentary to attractive full figured young women like yourself. So thank you for giving this a try. We’re anxious to see how this turns out. We plan to put a whole lot of money in you, my dear."

Kristin was like a three way light turned to its brightest wattage. "Thank you, Ms. Cartier. I’ll do my best."

Magdalena smiled and turned to go, then turned back once more. "Just remember, Ms. Norris. When it comes to your bodysuit. It is what’s inside that counts most." She smiled, as if she had just thought of something very clever, and then walked away.

Kristin returned to her dressing room, invigorated by Ms. Cartier’s words of encouragement. She removed her black jacket and white blouse, then her black skirt. After pulling her slip over her head and tossing it on top of her other clothes on the dressing room couch, the model stood in front of the mahogany mirror in just her bra and pantyhose, and took a long look. Somehow, she would have to make this work. She slipped out of her bra, then tugged down down the white pantyhose and panty underneath. Standing nude, she looked at the package once more. The size simply read "fits all Queen size wearers." "Great," she complained out loud, coming down from the mountaintop of motivation to the valley of reality.

Not yet ready to discover how badly she would look in the bodysuit, Kristin tok a few moments to read the package more thoroughly. The shade was called "PORC-el-INE Twist" and had an off-white coiled line beside the name. An odd name, she thought. But the back of the package listed some other styles and shades in the New Images line: "Spots & Stuff," "Bridal Path," "Diamondback Black," and "Seaweed Green." So, the whole line had weird names. She assumed that PORC-el-INE referred to the shade of white. Not a good omen, Kristin thought, when the manufacturer misspells the name of their own product. And what’s that ‘twist’ all about?

As she took the bodysuit out of its package, Kristin discovered that the ‘twist’ was a coiled, squiggly line dotted throughout the entire suit.. The shade could be called ‘porcelain’ if one were being generous. If one were not so generous, ‘dirty white’ would be more accurate. Kristin had hoped that the material might be opaque, hiding some of the wearer’s more unattractive features. But it appeared to be quite sheer, even a bit shiny and bright. It would reveal everything.

Before she put the empty package down, Kristin saw a label on the back of the package with the word ‘WARNING’ in big letters. Underneath that ominous word was a brief message: This garment is experimental. It is not meant for public sale. If you find this package, please return it unopened to Hose Queen, Inc. for a substantial reward. Thank you.

"Jesus," she said. "I wonder if that radiation symbol is on here somewhere." She laughed, but then had a reassuring thought. Even if the bodysuit was uncomplimentary to her figure, as she was sure it would be, she could blame how she looked on the hosiery, since it was only experimental. And who knows, maybe the scientists at Hose Queen really have found a way to make bodysuits complimentary to plus size women. Those options made Kristin feel a little better, and she prepared to put the bodysuit on.

These bodysuits were never easy to put on, particularly sheer nylon ones. But she found the legs and arms – man, she thought, there’s even nylon gloves at the end of the arms – and discovered that the back seemed to be split wide open. That made rollling up each leg, stepping into the foot, and pulling up the nylon much easier. As it did putting in her arms and hands, and pulling the ugly white front over her ample breasts and fitting the nylon collar around her neck. The hard part was figuring out how to close the back. Maybe, she thought, the shots will just be of the front, with the back staying open. But that didn’t make much sense – why model half a bodysuit? So Kristin reached around and began to connect the nylon pieces together. Surprisingly, the nylon began to just join together, from her bare bottom up her spine. At first she was relieved, but then she felt a long hole in the fabric, right in the middle of her back. It extended to the area between her shoulder blades, and then the nylon resumed and connected together all the way up to her neck. Kristin wondered whether that was a design flaw, or maybe a way to make the suit more form fitting in front. Whichever, that kind of empty slot in the fabric couldn’t be very attractive from the back. Her dread was becoming real once more.

The hole in the fabric had momentarily distracted her from the remarkable way the rest of the garment had fit together. She could feel no snaps or latches in back. She felt the nylon on the back of her neck, but it felt like one piece. She turned halfway around to look at her back in the mirror, but other than the long gap in the nylon, she could see no attachment of any kind, not even a seam from toe to top. It was like this one piece of nylon had just fused together!

As Kristin pondered this, she was suddenly surprised by something else: the bodysuit seemed to be shaping itself perfectly to the contours of her body. It highlighted her attractive breasts perfectly. Her rear end looked shapely in the sheer nylon. Her legs were smooth like in tight fitting pantyhose. There was no droop of cloth under the arms or around the waist. There was a loose piece of nylon in her crotch, but she lifted that piece up and it joined with the nylon in her waist just as the nylon had merged in the back. Even the webbing between her nyloned fingers was a snug fit. Kristin smiled from ear to ear. She looked great. She spun around looking at herself in the mirror once, twice, a third time. She looked better than great.

All that worrying had been for nothing. She remembered Ms. Cartier’s parting words, that it was what’s inside that counts. A nice philosophy for life, but not for modeling. For modeling, all that counted was what was outside. And as she stared at the shiny white fabric clinging tightly to her body, for the first time in her life Kristin believed that what she had outside was enough. It took her breath away to realize that this outfit, this session, this night at Hose Queen might be the beginning of a whole new life for her. This new line of hosiery was well named. "New Image." Somehow, Kristen knew she would never be the same again.

There were still a couple of things that Kristen couldn’t figure out. One thing was the name. How could a company make such a perfect outfit, and then come up with such a dopey name. Porcelain – even spelled right – was not a very good name for a shade of hosiery. It was too stiff and lifeless. And why this ‘twist’ pattern in the hosiery? That unusual – yet somehow familiar – coiled design was weaved into the nylon from neck to toe – even in the gloves. It seemed to Kristen that the pattern detracted from the overall complimentary effect of the lingerie.

But these were minor quibbles. It was the best bodysuit she had ever worn, and maybe when she was asked how she liked it, she would start with words of effusive praise, and then question the color, and the fact that that the ‘twist’ design wasn’t really that attractive.

As a few minutes passed, there was another drawback. While Kristin liked how the form-fitting nature of the suit complimented her figure, she was beginning to feel that the suit was too restrictive. And for such a sheer piece of clothing, it made the body feel uncomfortably warm. Kristin lifted her nylon-gloved hand to fan herself a few times, and immediately felt a severe cramp in her hand. Maybe this suit was a little too form fitting. It did seem to be tightening a little, and between that discomfort, and the heat it generated, Kristen was starting to feel muscle cramps and spasms all over.

She moved to the couch to have a seat and try to think of a way to loosen the bodysuit, when she felt a growing pain in her tailbone. The body wide cramps were also hurting, but this pain was getting sharp. Career or no career, it was time to take this bodysuit off. But then she heard and felt a tearing just above her buttocks. The sound was bone chilling, and the pain searing, but only for a second. And when Kristin Norris reached around to feel what had happened, she got the first terrible jolt of a night filled with mind-altering shocks. For there, coming out of her skin, and extending through the whitish nylon of the bodysuit, was a tail.

Her panic overcoming her pain, Kristen rushed to the mirror to see if sight matched touch, and sure enough, there was a tail. Not an extension of her own skin. And not a bushy, furry tail like you’d wear with an animal costume. But a hard and compact, curved and coiled piece of skin that matched the color of her bodysuit, but was attached to her body. Kristen recognized the kind of tail immediately, and that’s when she cried out and ran for the door. Something about this room or the suit - something was making her hallucinate. Making her give form and substance to the cruel taunts she had endured over the years, and to her own negative thinking that had ruled her self-image for so long. Once she was outside of this room - outside of this nylon bodysuit, and this modeling venture, and this place, Hose Queen, Inc. - then everything would be back to normal.

Ignoring the increasing pain in her arms and legs and chest, Kristin stumbled to the door and reached for the knob. And then she screamed. Over and over. For her hands and fingers were no longer there. In their place were two cloven hooves. The same dirty whitish color of the tail on her backbone. The same color as the nylon bodysuit she was wearing.

This hallucination was going too far, Kristen thought. And though she couldn’t turn the knob with her swine limbs, she beat loudly on the door with her hoof. "Help! Help! Help me! Something’s happening to …" but as she tried to finish, she began to grunt and snort. She tried to beat on the door some more, but she couldn’t seem to support her standing position, and as she lowered what once were her arms, they dropped all the way to the floor. Kristen looked at her legs and saw that they too had shortened. And her once stockinged feet were now hooves to match her once gloved hands.

The prospective hosiery model was not used to moving on four short stout legs and hooves, but she managed to make her way back to the mirror. Tears fell from her eyes as Kristen’s ‘new image’ reflected back to her. Her short blonde hair had nearly disappeared. Only a few strands hung from the stubble that was the top of her head. Her eyes were still human, but her nose had almost completely changed to a snout, her chin was more pronounced, the top of her ears had lengthened, and now sat closer to the top of her head, which itself was more rounded.

Kristen was trying to remain quiet, as she hated the grunting sound that had replaced words. But when she saw and felt her breasts merge into one, and multiple teats appear where there had once been two nipples, the former model attempted one last human scream, that came out as a high pitched squeal.

Perhaps the cruelest aspect of this transformation was that the last thing to transform was her mind. Kristen still thought as a human, and that provided her with one last shred of hope - that this was still some sort of drug induced hallucination. That she was still plus-sized model Kristen Norris. And that somehow some chemical in her nylon bodysuit had penetrated her skin, entered her bloodstream and nervous system, and was creating this illusion of transformation.

As Kristen stood in front of the mirror in her new form, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. If this was the effect of a drug, as the model hoped, then her panicked state accelerated its rate through her bloodstream. So she needed to be still, think logically, and try to remember as much of what happened as she could.

There was the invitation several weeks ago from a Hose Queen representative. He had approached Kristen as she came out of the local plus-size boutique, so he apparently was looking for a model bigger than most hosiery models. He had identified himself, and told Kristen that his employer - Magdalena Cartier - was inviting several young women to come to the company headquarters for a special modeling session. Kristen remembered modestly protesting that she didn’t really have any experience, but the company representative had assured her that experience wasn’t necessary. She had everything that Ms. Cartier was looking for, and she would be perfect for this event. Hose Queen was prepared to put a lot of money into Kristen Norris

And what about the hosiery. She remembered the package. There were several different styles listed - something about spots, another with seaweed. But, oh no! She couldn’t remember what her style was! And that was only minutes ago! Was her human mind slipping away? No. Stop it, Kristen, she told herself. You’re starting to panic again. Just try to picture the package.

She saw the back - the warning. Yes, the warning! Something about returning it to Hose Queen if found by someone. That might mean drugs were involved. Something dangerous in the fabric that Hose Queen didn’t want to fall into the wrong hands. But what was her style?

Then she thought of it. The whitish coil at the top of the package. And what was it called. Not ‘coil’ but . . . . yes, ‘twist.’ Something ‘twist’ - ‘PORC-el-INE’! ‘PORC-el-INE Twist.’ Kristen was pleased she had remembered that, but would it help? Did it mean anything? That odd way to say – and spell – porcelain. Maybe the sheer act of logically putting those pieces back together would begin to let her see the way she really was.

Slowly, Kristen opened her eyes to take another look. But all that appeared in the mirror was the large sow she had seen earlier. Kristen was not used to standing on four short legs, but as she tried to shift her position, she realized that she was unable to move her legs. And her head was becoming stiffer as well. She looked in the mirror and saw that the shine she had seen in what had been nylon fabric was brighter and harder than it had been.

And Kristen saw something else in the mirror. Something very familiar, and very ominous. She saw the coil symbol as it appeared on the bodysuit package. But it wasn’t a picture and it wasn’t a symbol.

It was her tail.

The stiffness was increasing now, and Kristen could no longer move her head. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, but she saw one last thing that put all the pieces of this bizarre puzzle together. It was in the middle of her back, about a foot in length. It was no longer an open piece of nylon fabric as when she had first put the bodysuit on. There was no longer any nylon on her plus-size body. In fact, there was no longer any female plus-size body. But the hole was still there, in the middle of her back. Only it wasn’t really a hole.

It was a long, thin, open slot. Like you would see on the back of a . . . .

And then Kristen could see and move no more. There had not been enough time to figure out the hard and shiny shell was in fact porcelain. No time to solve the puzzle of the odd spelling, and the capital letters that spelled PORCINE. No time to hear the Hose Queen movers come into the room with a long padded dolly, and pick Kristen’s hardened, transformed body up, and carefully place it on the cushion, and wheel it out of the dressing room. No time to see the meeting room in the banquet hall, nor feel her new form placed on a head table under the sign ‘Saving for a Rainy Day.’ No time to blush as the banquet director pulled back a leathery pouch on her underside, to make sure the donations would have a place to come out.

But at least Kristen had time to realize that she had been given ‘PORC-el-INE Twist’ for a specific reason. Magdalena Cartier and her staff at Hose Queen intended for their heavy-set, beautiful blonde model to become a bright, shiny, lifesize porcelain piggy bank.

Hose Queen did intend to put a lot of money into Kristen. Thus fulfilling Magdalena Cartier’s sage observation: It is what’s inside that really counts.