Through A Lens Darkly

By Nomdreserv

Epilogue

The scene in Meg’s “debriefing” room after the photo shoot was chaotic. Managers, personal trainers and other hangers on had come to pick up their charges, and instead watched in perplexion as a group of strangers debarked from Meg’s van. Their bemusement turned to shock, however, as they either recognized their transformed clients, or had their identities revealed as the models sought out their companions. Cries of disbelief and outrage filled the room as they tried to convince their erstwhile mealtickets that something was wrong. Despite the clear impossibility of the changes, the managers adapted rapidly, seeming more concerned by their potential loss of income than the physics of the transformation.

“What the hell? You got fat! You’re a pig!”

“You’re OLD! That’s what’s wrong!”

“Damn it, James! You’re a 12 year old GIRL for chrissakes!!”

Soon Meg was surrounded by an angry mob threatening various extreme physical and legal retribution, even as they demanded immediate restoration of their clients. Only Jessica, still a seven foot amazon and standing next to Meg in a protective manner, saved her from bodily harm. Jessica pointedly ignored her own agent. Raquel, too, after initially running joyfully to tell her manager about her adventure, fell back to hug Jessica’s massive calves after he started screaming. The angry man frightened her, and she felt much safer and happier back with her new friends.

“Silence!” Meg finally demanded. “Or everyone stays the way they are permanently.”

This had the desired effect. Meg went on to explain that she would restore each model if two simple conditions were met. First, they had to stay out of the public eye for the next month, until the magazine was released - no one could reveal their transformation. If this meant canceling commitments and photo ops, Meg would make restitution, the nature to be decided by the models themselves. No problem there, the managers decided, looking askance at their almost unrecognizable clients. They would pay good money to avoid this getting out. Second, there were to be no problems or complaints about the magazine itself, or the published pictures. If there were, Meg warned, or if there was trouble afterwards, she implied the changes - or worse - might “recur.” Of course, they couldn’t unless Meg took some more pictures, but no one else could be sure of that, and Meg’s conditions were grudgingly accepted.

“I promised each model here that my pictures would be the most remarkable of their careers, and so they will. I didn’t specify as to how or why. Be glad the effects are temporary, and until they wear off, learn to live life through another perspective. Some of you may find it educational.”



Strangely, the photos she presented to SM showed none of these extraordinary transformations that had so horrified the models’ agents. Editors agreed that the shots were technically excellent, and the models gorgeous as always, and thanked Meg for her work, but privately, many grumbled that she had hardly delivered on her promise to make this the most incredible and talked-about swimsuit issue ever. Still, there was plenty of exposed skin to stimulate sales (among other things), and the issue was duly assembled.

Unknown to the publishers, Meg had developed the pictures with her special “Dorian Grey” solution, the effect of which was that the pictures showed the models as they had appeared at the start of the shoot, and would as long as the models themselves remained transformed. Of course, the reverse was also true. Thus, after the magazine had been printed, assembled, and shipped for delivery, Meg applied the second batch of solution to her negatives. When she checked her own proofs of the pictures afterwards, a large satisfied smile spread over her face. At the same time, a quick pat at her groin reassured her that the magic had worked fully as promised, no doubt to the relief of her many “fashion victims.” As for herself, well, it was nice to be back to “normal,” but all in all, it had been an eye-opening experience, and she wasn’t a bit sorry in retrospect.

The magazine hit the stands and immediately caused a sensation. On the cover was an exotic tiger-woman, and inside, there were all manner of unexpected and disquieting surprises. Pictures of middle aged or elderly models, no doubt pretty for their ages (some even bore a resemblance to Sabrina, the famous teen model, who was supposed to be in the shots), fat women (How did Kate Mock ever agree to let her face be used on THAT body?), muscle-bound amazons next to shy pixies, and … was that really a woman? Should they get excited or disgusted by this topless shot?

Men hoping for lust material were flabbergasted and frustrated, but ashamed to admit it, especially when wives pounced triumphantly to insist they buy it anyway - it was for the articles, right? Feminists crowed and rejoiced that SM had finally seen the light, and applauded the self-mockery which exploded the women as sex objects myth. They also praised the magazine and Meg for showing that “real women” could be just as interesting as models as the usual centerfold crew. Interesting was certainly an apt word, for an intellectual uproar ensued as to the artistic significance of the models used, or Meg’s vision : age vs. innocence, woman as hunter, etc. Artists debated technical and special effects masters as to how Meg had faked her shots (the consensus was computer wizardry, in which they were half right). Many were surprised that such famous models would allow their names or faces to be used for such effects, but this led to another round of applause. All the praise and hype left an initially outraged SM flatfooted, and finally forced them to take grudging responsibility for the publishing coup. The models themselves finally reappeared in public, but remained surprisingly tight-lipped and aloof from the raging debates.

And Meg was right. It was the most talked about issue ever.


Interestingly, several of the models came to visit Meg for “private” photo sessions afterwards. Kate abandoned her anorexic image, happily adding several pounds and an entirely new attitude, crusading relentlessly and publicly against eating disorders. Her career took off again as she championed a healthy diet and realistic body image. Rachel became much more aggressive in her personal and professional life, and people loved the wild, untamed style of hair she adopted. People noticed that Jessica had obviously been inspired by her altered photos to start weight training, and liked the new buff persona she projected. Hardly anyone noticed she now also stood three inches taller. She also became Meg’s assistant, wanting to learn the tricks of the trade as she put it.

And Raquel took an indefinite leave of absence - for personal reasons she explained, refusing to elaborate. And soon thereafter, Raquel’s “niece” began tagging along on Meg’s assignments, which now also included glorious outings to amusement parks, beaches, and camping trips. She seemed a very happy little girl.

Of course, she was also mischievous, and had seen Meg’s special equipment in action. Readers might remember that infamous episode at Disney World where … but wait, that’s another set of stories.


END

Copyright 1999 by Nomdreserv

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