this pic was made a year ago and to be honest, I dont remember the artist who drew this for me, when I find that information ill update to properly give credit where its due. also incase you cant tell because of how much she's changed, the character next to my OC is Jessica Rabbit.

story assistance by my good friend Painful Elegy  PainfulElegy

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Artress has always been obsessed with all realities of art. To her, their beauty was symbolic of her overarching goal: to bring Non-sentience to the whole of the multiverse, and all realities within. While doing her job in one reality, enjoying her time turning an entire family to sculptures, she noticed quite the oddity playing on their television, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”. Engaged with its odd mish mash of what was normally considered nonliving entities with living ones, she was fully enraptured by the presence of one: Jessica Rabbit. The voluptuous vixen was mysterious, amazing, her beauty intense. Of course, as a cartoon character, she was just a concept, and not a being... at least in this dimension. After tidying up her workstation and leaving the family in an excellently esoteric position, she hopped from her current dimension to that of Toon Town's, ready to hunt down her next masterpiece.

Artress caught Jessica's lounge act at the Ink and Paint Club, in total awe of what she saw. Just as before, the woman was merely a drawing in human shape, one impossible by living standards... the perfect partner. As the show ended, Jessica returned to her dressing room, ready to draw a change of clothes from her closet. Opening the door, she was shocked to find what was effectively a walking canvas waiting for her. Before Jessica could say anything, Artress moved forward, beginning to pore over her, lauding her with words of love and admiration focused on her extreme features and inhuman state. Getting to one knee, the living sculpture pulled out a box, opening it to a small jar of paint. “Will you join me in my quest to bring beauty and art to all living things, you wondrous example of art?” She insisted, sincere in her desire to have another join her everlasting quest. Jessica was surprised and quite flattered by the offer, but she turned it down almost immediately. Unfortunately for the artress, Jessica's heart was already taken by another, the only one in this world she truly loved: her husband, Roger. Artress knew to some degree how she felt, thinking of her own love, “Locke”. However, Artress was never one to take rejection gracefully. “That is quite the shame. Our paired intimacy would have more than spread beauty across the whole of this drab multiverse. But if you don't want to join in that wonderful endeavor, the least I can do is bring it to you!" in the blink of an eye, Artress swiped her paint brush across Jessica's body; billions of her nanomachines going to work on the toon, rearranging her atomic structure to better fit the Artress' current desires.

Jessica desperately tried to move to remove the thick substance from her body, but quickly found that her body was unresponsive... at least to her desires. Instead of working to clean the offending paint from her form, it took to a sultry pose, one hand to her hips, the other to her lips, a square cigarette holder jutting from her mouth and filling the gap between the now near fingers. All the while, her body grew hard as stiff plastic, its smooth curves becoming sharply angled, Cubist in nature. As her body became more and more polygonal, her mind similarly simplified. Thoughts, ideas, experiences; all of them compressed and folded in on themselves into a singular memory encompassing all that she knew. There was little logic to this singular point, but it truly was all that she was, especially as there was no room for any new thoughts in that plastic head of hers. Artress swooned over her newest creation. She may not have gained a partner, but at the least she got a new masterpiece worthy of display around her own display. Taking the statue, she disappeared from this reality, returning to her studio. She continued to fawn over the masterpiece, admiring its postmodern appearance more and more, while it continued to flow through its singularity of thought. That singularity would continue again and again, one part sticking out from the rest: the last moments where she met the woman that would redraw her, from 'bad girl' to 'good art'.