The key clicks into the lock with a satisfying click, and I push the door open. The Lady in Red steps in behind me, her heels tapping softly against the floor. She’s been all over me since we left the bar, her hands roaming, her lips teasing, and now, here in the dim light of my apartment, she’s even more magnetic. She smells like spilled whiskey and something sweet, like cherries, and it’s intoxicating. She hasn’t told me her name—dodged the question three times—but honestly, I don’t care. Not when she’s looking at me like that, her eyes dark and hungry, her red dress hugging every curve like it was painted on.
“Your place is nice,” she says, her voice low as she glances around. Her lips curve into a smirk. Her fingers trailing up my arm, sending a ripple of heat through me.
“Thanks,” I manage, my voice rough. “It’s home.”
She laughs, a soft, musical sound. “Charming,” she purrs, her hand sliding up to my shoulder. Her fingers dip under the collar of my shirt, and I can feel the warmth of her skin against mine. “But I didn’t come here for the decor.”
Her other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, and suddenly there’s no space between us. Her body presses against mine, and I can feel the heat radiating off her, the way her curves fit perfectly against me. My hands instinctively move to her hips, gripping the fabric of her dress, and she lets out a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder down my spine.
Her lips find mine then, the kiss is hungry, almost desperate, and I can feel the way she molds herself to me. My hands slide up her back, feeling the soft fabric of her dress, the way it clings to her skin.
She breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Take this off,” tugging at my shirt. I don’t need to be told twice. I pull it over my head, tossing it aside, and her hands are on me immediately, her fingers tracing the lines of my chest, her nails scraping lightly against my skin. A low groan escapes me, and she smiles, clearly pleased with herself.
“You’re enjoying this,” I say, my voice rough.
“And you’re not?” she quips, her hands sliding down to the waistband of my pants. She laughs again, soft and throaty, and leans in to kiss me once more, her lips moving against mine with a kind of practiced ease that leaves me breathless.
Her hands move to the zipper of her dress next, and she steps back slightly, giving herself enough room to pull it down. The dress slides off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and fuck. She’s wearing nothing underneath, and every inch of her is flawless. Her skin glows in the dim light, her curves perfectly balanced, her breasts full and high, their tips already hardening in the cool air. My eyes are drawn to them immediately, and she notices, tilting her head with a smug little smile.
“See something you like?” she teases, her voice dripping with amusement.
“Yeah,” I admit, my voice thick. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
She steps closer again, her hands sliding onto my waist as she looks up at me through her lashes. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against mine again. “But I think you’re overdressed.”
Her hands move to my belt, undoing it with practiced ease, and I can feel the pressure building, the ache growing sharper with every second. She’s playing with me, taking her time, and it’s driving me wild. My hands grip her waist tighter, pulling her closer, and she lets out a soft gasp that goes straight to my cock.
Her lips find mine again, and this time the kiss is slower, deeper, her tongue exploring my mouth as her hands continue their work. I groan against her lips, my hips jerking forward involuntarily, and she laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my skin.
My hands slide down her back, gripping her ass, and she lets out a soft moan, her body pressing against mine. Her hands finally push my boxers down, and I step out of them, kicking them aside. Now there’s nothing between us, and the feeling of her skin against mine is almost overwhelming.
She pulls back slightly, her eyes raking over me, and I can feel the heat of her gaze like a physical touch. “Well,” she says, her voice low and teasing, “aren’t you just perfect?”
I don’t respond, too caught up in the way she’s looking at me, the way her hands are tracing every inch of me like she’s memorizing my body.
Her fingers wrapped around my cock, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. I groaned, my head falling back against the doorframe as she stroked me slowly, her touch teasing, deliberate. “Fuck, lady,” I muttered, my voice shaky, already too far gone to care about sounding smooth. She just grinned, her lips curling into that devilish smirk that had been driving me insane all night.
“Oh, Mark,” she purred, her voice low and sultry. “You have no idea what’s coming.” She licks her lips as her eyes lock onto mine. Then, without warning, she dropped to her knees, her hands gripping my thighs for balance. My breath caught in my throat as she tilted her head, her lips hovering just inches from my cock.
The first touch of her tongue was electric. A slow, wet stroke from base to tip that made my knees buckle. “Jesus Christ,” I hissed, my hands instinctively reaching for her hair. She chuckled, the vibrations traveling straight through me as she wrapped her lips around the head and sucked. Hard. My hips jerked forward, and she moaned around me, the sound muffled but unmistakably eager.
She took me deeper, her tongue swirling around my shaft as she worked me with a rhythm that was maddeningly perfect. Her hands slid up my thighs, her nails digging in just enough to make me groan. Every movement was calculated, every flick of her tongue, every suck, every moan designed to push me closer to the edge.
“God, you’re good at this,” I mumbled, my voice slurred with pleasure. She pulled back slightly, her lips popping off me with a wet slurp, and looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I’m just getting started,” she murmured before diving back in, taking me deeper this time. Her throat constricted around me, and I felt like I might explode right then and there. Her hands cupped my balls, kneading them gently as she bobbed her head, her lips sliding up and down my shaft with a steady, relentless rhythm.
Her moans vibrated through me, her enthusiasm palpable as she devoured me like I was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Every now and then, she’d pull back, her tongue darting out to lick along the sensitive underside of my cock before swallowing me whole again.
“Fuck, lady,” I moaned, my voice tight with barely restrained pleasure. “You’re going to make me cum.”
She pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around the head of my cock as she looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent. “Do it,” she whispered, her voice dripping with challenge. “Cum for me, Mark.”
And just like that, I was gone. My hips jerked forward as I spilled myself into her mouth, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. She moaned, her throat vibrating around me as she swallowed every drop, her tongue lapping at the sensitive tip as I came down from the high.
Her mouth worked me relentlessly, and my orgasm seemed to stretch on longer than any I’d ever experienced. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, and I swear I could feel every drop of cum leaving my body, spilling into her throat in an endless stream. My hips bucked uncontrollably, each pulse of release making my legs tremble.
As the orgasm dragged on, I became aware of a strange, tightening sensation all over my body.
I didn’t fully register the changes at first—my mind was too consumed by the overwhelming pleasure—but there was an undeniable shift happening. It was as if my body was being compressed, tightened, reshaped. My breathing quickened, not just from the intensity of the orgasm but from the strange, almost claustrophobic sensation coursing through me.
My orgasm showed no signs of stopping. Wave after wave of pleasure racked my body as I continued to shoot a relentless stream of cum into her mouth, each pulse more intense than the last. The Lady in Red moaned around me, her throat vibrating as she swallowed every drop greedily, her lips sealed tight to keep every bit of me inside.
I gasped, my hips bucking uncontrollably. “Fuck, lady, what… what’s happening?” I slurred, barely able to form words. She looked up at me without breaking her rhythm, her eyes gleaming with mischief. That smirk of hers only widened as she sucked harder.
She didn’t stop. If anything, she seemed to intensify her efforts, her tongue swirling around me as she swallowed every drop. Her moans vibrated through me, mingling with the strange pressure building in my body. All I could do was gasp and moan, clinging to her as my world spiraled out of control.
My body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I felt my cock disappear completely, replaced by something new and unfamiliar. My hips bucked forward as I cried out, my voice high and feminine as I experienced my first female orgasm.
The Lady in Red stood up, her lips stained with cum as she grinned at me. “Oh, Mark,” she said, her tone sweet but mocking. “You were soooo gooood.”
My heart raced as I looked down at my body. My once toned chest was now sporting a pair of small but noticeable breasts. “What did you do to me?” I demanded, my voice trembling with panic.
Before I could protest, she dropped to her knees again, her lips wrapping around my shrinking cock. Her tongue flicked against the tip, and I gasped, a strange sensation building deep inside me. It wasn’t like before. It was… different. More intense. More overwhelming.
When it was over, I collapsed on to the bed, my body trembling with exhaustion. I looked down at myself, horrified by what I saw. My chest was now adorned with a pair of soft, perky breasts, and my hips were wider, more feminine. My cock was gone, replaced by a wet, slit between my legs.
The Lady in Red stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she smirked at me. “Well, Mark,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. “How does it feel to be a girl?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
After catching my breath, I got up. The apartment felt alien now. My legs—shorter, softer—carried me awkwardly across the room. Every step felt wrong, my hips swaying in a way that made me uneasy. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and froze. My chest rose and fell with each breath. They were small, perky, the kind of tits that would make a guy turn his head. But they weren’t supposed to be mine.
I turned to the Lady in Red, who was lounging on my couch like she owned the place. Her crimson dress already back on and clinging to her curves, and those lips—those fucking lips—curved into a smirk as she watched me. “Enjoying the view?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” I demanded, my voice higher than I remembered. Softer. More feminine. “Why do I look like… like this?”
Her laugh was low and throaty, like she’d been waiting for this moment.
She tilted her head, her gaze raking over my new form. “You’re quite the masterpiece, darling. A work of art.” She said, standing and sauntering toward me. Her heels clicked against the floor, each step deliberate. “You see, darling, I’m what you might call a succubus.”
I blinked. “A what?”
“A succubus,” she repeated, her smile widening. “I feed on essence—masculine, feminine, whatever strikes my fancy. And you, my dear Mark, had such delicious masculine essence. I simply couldn’t resist.”
My stomach churned. “You’re like a vampire.”
She laughed, a sound that was equal parts seductive and mocking. “Not exactly, vampires drain blood. I consume masculine and feminine essence."
She reached out, her fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I hated how good it felt. “You’re such a pretty girl,” she cooed. “Don’t you like your new body?”
“No!” I stepped back, swatting her hand away. “I want my old body back!”
Desperation creeping into my voice. “Can’t you just give it back? Or transfer me some?”
Her eyebrow arched, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of interest. “Transfer it, you say?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose I could. But it’s not exactly… easy."
“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “I’ll do anything.”
She studied me for a long moment before finally nodding. “All right, Mark. But first, let’s appreciate my handiwork. Tell me what you like about your new body.”
I hate this. But if it meant getting my body back, I’d play along. “Fine,” I muttered, glancing down at myself. “My… my tits are perky. I guess that’s nice. And I’ve got that whole girl-next-door thing going on. I’m not too curvy, so I could still play sports or whatever.”
Her smile returned, wide and satisfied. “See? You’re already embracing it.”
“Great. Can we move on to the part where you transfer some essence back into me?”
She chuckled, slipping her arm through mine. “Patience, darling. First, we need to find a donor. Someone with plenty of masculine essence to spare.”
I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "You feed on essence, right? So just... give me mine back. And then take someone else's."
She tilted her head, her crimson lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, Mark, darling, that’s precious. But why would I give up such a delicious meal? Your essence was... exquisite. Rich. Like a fine wine. No, no, I think I’ll keep it for myself.”
Her laugh was soft, almost mocking. “Not your essence, darling. That’s mine now. I’ll find someone else—someone with plenty of masculine energy to spare. A man who’s... virile. Strong. You’ll be a man again, you just might have a proclivity for their hobbies and manly mannerisms.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I snapped, my voice rising. “I don’t want someone else’s essence! I want mine!”
She leaned closer, her scent—something dark and floral—filling the air between us. "Your essence is gone, Mark. I consumed it—all of it. What’s left is the faint trace of femininity that was buried deep within you. But you don’t have a choice, do you? Unless you’d rather stay like this...” Her gaze traveled down my body, lingering on my chest and hips. “Though I must say, you wear it well.”
I wanted to scream. But she was right—I didn’t have a choice. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let''s just... find someone. And make it quick.”
Her smile widened, and for a moment, I thought I saw triumph in her eyes.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said immediately, practically dragging her toward the door.
She hesitated, her expression unreadable. “It’s late, Mark. Perhaps we should wait until morning.”
The hell we will. “No way. We’re doing this right now.”
Her sigh was heavy, but she didn’t argue. “Very well,”
After donning my now ill fitting clothes stepped outside, the cool night air hitting my skin in a way that felt… different. My body seemed more sensitive now, every breeze sending a ripple of sensation through me. I hurried to the car, my new hips making the motion feel awkward and unnatural. I had to move the seat up and higher for my new proportions.
The Lady in Red slid into the passenger seat, her red dress hitching up her thighs as she adjusted herself. She glanced at me, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Ready, Mark? Or should I start calling you Marry?”
Whatever it took, I was getting my body back tonight. Even if it meant driving around with her in tow.
As we pulled out of the driveway, she leaned back in her seat, humming softly. “You know,” she said, her tone light, almost teasing, “you make a rather striking woman. It’s almost a shame to change you back.”
Don’t let her get under your skin. There was something about the way she looked at me—like I was a prize she’d won.
The city was a ghost town, the streets empty and glowing under the pale orange haze of streetlights. My hands gripped the wheel tightly, my mind racing as I tried to ignore the way the Lady in Red’s eyes kept flicking toward me. She was enjoying this.
“You know,” she drawled, her voice dripping with that infuriating casualness, “this is exactly why I wanted to wait until morning. What’s open at 2 A.M.? Convenience stores and… well, not much else.”
I glared at her, my jaw tightening. “I’m not fucking settling for convenience store masculinity.”
She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, of course not. You deserve only the finest essence, don’t you, Marry?”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.
She chuckled, the sound low and throaty, like she was savoring every syllable. “Fine, fine. But if you’re so picky, why don’t we wait until morning? Hit up a gym. Plenty of testosterone there.”
I shook my head. “No , it has to be tonight.”
Up ahead, the fluorescent lights of a hospital came into view. I gestured toward it. “What about there? Hospitals are full of people. Doctors, nurses, patients…”
She let out a sharp laugh, leaning back in her seat. “Oh, sure. Let’s just waltz into a hospital and turn some poor soul into the opposite gender. That won't attract any attention not to mention ethical.”
“Ethical?” I shot back, turning to glare at her. “You turned me into a woman without asking. Don’t talk to me about ethics.”
She shrugged, unfazed. “Fair point. But still, no hospitals. Try again.”
After a few minutes, she suddenly pointed out the window. “There. Stop there.”
I slowed the car, following her gaze. The neon sign of a strip club blinked lazily in the darkness, the pink and blue lights casting a garish glow over the sidewalk.
“No,” I said immediately. “Absolutely not.”
She leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear. “Why not? It’s perfect. Lots of premium masculinity in there. And guess what? It’s open.”
"No way," I said firmly, my knuckles whitening as I gripped the wheel. "I’m not taking masculinity from some guys at a strip club. I don’t want that kind of energy in me."
She sighed dramatically, slumping back in her seat. “You’re impossible, you know that? Fine. Let’s just wait until the Olympics. Plenty of prime masculinity there.”
“The Olympics?” I stared at her, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
She shrugged, her smirk returning. “Deadly. But honestly, this is the best we’re gonna get at this hour. Strip club or nothing.”
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. This was ridiculous. I couldn’t believe I was even considering this. But what other options did I have? Drive around aimlessly until sunrise? Wait for her to suggest something even worse?
Reluctantly, I pulled the car over to the curb, parking just across the street from the club. The bass from inside thrummed through the air, the faint sound of music drifting out onto the empty sidewalk.
The Lady in Red turned to me, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ready?”
I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. Hell no. But did I have a choice? Also no.
“Fine,” I muttered, my voice resigned. “But if this goes wrong—”
She cut me off with a soft, velvety laugh, her hand sliding up my thigh in a way that was supposed to feel comforting but only made my skin crawl. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed reassurance, “you’re worrying too much. This is going to be amazing.”
Her lips curled into a wicked smile, and she leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “Relax, darling. This is going to feel… extraordinary.”
Before I could protest, her other hand pressed against the center of my chest. A strange warmth spread through me, starting from her palm and radiating outward. My breath caught—no, not caught—it stuttered, like my body was forgetting how to breathe properly. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a soft, involuntary moan.
“That’s it,” she purred, her voice low and sultry. “Just let it happen.”
The warmth turned into something else, a tingling sensation that buzzed under my skin. My nipples hardened, my clit throbbed, a needy pulse that made my hips twitch. I squirmed in the seat, trying to focus on what she was doing, but the sensations were overwhelming.
“What… what are you doing to me?” I gasped, my voice trembling.
She chuckled, her nails tracing circles on my thigh. “I’m fixing you, darling. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
The tingling intensified, spreading through every inch of my body. My skin felt hypersensitive, like even the slightest touch would send me over the edge. My hands gripped the edges of the seat, my knuckles turning white. My breathing grew ragged, shallow, as the warmth pooled between my legs.
And then I felt it.
A surge. Like a wave crashing inside me, but not painful. It was pleasure, raw and unrelenting. My back arched, pressing my chest against her hand. My nipples were on fire, aching for attention. My clit pulsed with each heartbeat, a steady rhythm of need that made me bite my lip hard enough to taste copper.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my voice barely above a whisper. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…”
The Lady in Red’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s the spirit.”
The surge didn’t stop. It built, climbing higher and higher until I couldn’t think straight. My hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against the seat. My fingers dug into the leather, desperate for something to hold onto. My breath came in short, sharp gasps, each one louder than the last.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I babbled, my mind blank except for the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me.
And then I felt something different. My chest tightened, my breasts feeling heavier, fuller. I glanced down, my eyes widening as I saw my shirt straining against them. My nipples pressed against the fabric, hard and sensitive. The warmth in my chest intensified, spreading outward, and I felt them grow.
“Wait,” I gasped, my voice shaky. “What’s happening?”
The Lady in Red laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. “Just a go with it, darling. Enjoy the ride.”
“Oh God,” I moaned, my voice high and breathy. “Oh God, oh God…”
The warmth in my chest shifted, pooling in my breasts. I felt them grow heavier, fuller, until they were spilling out of my shirt. My hands flew to them, cupping the massive mounds of flesh as they continued to expand. My nipples throbbed against my palms, sending jolts of pleasure through me.
“Fuck!” I cried out, my back arching as another surge of pleasure hit me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
The Lady in Red’s hand moved from my chest to grip mine, guiding them over my breasts. “Feel that, darling?”
I couldn’t answer. My mind was too scrambled by the sheer intensity of what I was feeling. My breasts filled my hands, the soft flesh spilling between my fingers. They were huge, bigger than Double D's. And they were still growing.
“That’s it,” the Lady in Red purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Let it happen.”
Her moans turned into a breathy stutter, her words breaking apart as the pleasure intensified. "OoooooOOOOooh, fuuuUUUUuuck," I gasped, my hips bucking against the seat. My hands clutched at my expanding breasts, feeling them spill between my fingers, soft and impossibly heavy. I glanced in the rearview mirror, my reflection shifted. My lips looked fuller, glossier, almost artificially perfect. My cheekbones were higher, my jawline softer—almost doll-like. "What… what’s happening to me?!" I stammered, my voice trembling.
The Lady in Red laughed, her nails tracing slow circles on my thigh. "Just a little touch of perfection, darling. Don’t fight it. You’re becoming irresistible."
I whimpered, my back arching as another wave of heat surged through me. My cleavage deepened, the valley between my breasts growing longer, more pronounced. The fabric of my shirt groaned as it struggled to contain them. "Oh my GoooOOOd-uuuUh-UH-uh-ugh," I moaned, my hands instinctively grabbing at my monstrous chest.
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear. "Because bigger is better, darling. And you? You’re about to be the best." Her hand slid up my thigh, her touch setting every nerve on fire.
"N-no! I never—" My protest was cut off by a sharp cry as my nipples hardened, jutting against the stretched fabric of my shirt. "P-please! Stop this! I can’t… I can’t handle it!" They were now the size of ripe cantaloupes.
She chuckled, her voice dripping with amusement. "Oh, but you can. Look at you, writhing in pleasure. You’re loving every second of this."
"Oh my GAWD," my voice cracking as my body betrayed me. They grew larger than soccer balls. My hips rocked uncontrollably, the friction driving me closer to the edge. "OH MY FUCKING GA-AH-AH-AHD!"
Her laughter echoed in my ears as my orgasm began to crest, my vision blurring with the overwhelming sensations.
My body trembled as they grew larger than basketballs. Every nerve alight with ecstasy as I leaned forward to rest them on my lap.
My orgasm tore through every single cell in my body. My entire body convulsed, my back arching off the seat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. My cries were high-pitched, girlish, as my gigantic fake breasts bounced with each shuddering gasp.
“YES!” I screamed, my voice filled with ecstasy. "YAH-AH-AOOOOOOOH-ESSSS!"
The pleasure didn’t stop. It kept coming, wave after wave. My breasts continued to grow, filling out impossibly large cups that spilled over my hands. My hair brushed against my shoulders longer than before, softer than before.
And then it finally began to subside. My body relaxed, slumping against the seat as the aftershocks rolled through me. My chest heaved with each breath, my massive breasts rising and falling with the motion.
I looked down at myself, blinking in disbelief. My shirt was stretched to its limits, barely containing the massive mounds of flesh that were my new breasts. They were enormous, easily bigger than anything I’d ever seen on a woman before. The size of large watermelons. My hands trembled as I touched them, feeling the smooth skin and hard nipples.
“What… what the fuck?” I stammered, out of breath. My voice higher-pitched than before.
The Lady in Red laughed, a rich, full-bodied sound that made me flinch. “Oh, darling. You should see the look on your face.”
“What did you do to me? These are larger than WATERMELONS!” I demanded, my voice cracking. “I wanted to be a man again!”
The Lady in Red laughed, a husky, breathy sound that sent a shiver down my spine despite the fury boiling inside me. “Oh, darling, don’t look so horrified. You’re a real work of art now. Truly one of a kind.”
I stared at her in horror, my hands gripping my breasts as if I could somehow make them disappear. “You bitch! How did you do this to me? What happened?”
Her grin widened, and she gestured out the window. I followed her gaze, my eyes landing on the sign outside the strip club. In bold, flashy letters, it read: “PLASTIC NIGHT! NO ENTRY FEE FOR ALL IMPLANTED DANCERS! THE BIGGER THE BETTER!”
My stomach dropped as I realized what she’d done. “No… no, no, no…”
She chuckled, her voice dripping with cruel amusement as she reached over to give my hand a patronizing pat. “Oh, darling, don’t look so glum. You’ve just become the pinnacle of plastic perfection. Think about it—dozens of strippers’ essence, their femininity, their… enhancements, all poured into one fabulous package. That’s you now. A walking, breathing masterpiece of silicone and saline.”
I stared at her, my hands still gripping my massive breasts in disbelief. “YYou fucked me! These things are are the size of watermelons! How am I supposed to live like this!?”
Her grin widened, her scarlet lips curling into a wicked smirk. “Honey, those girls inside the club? They paid for what you’ve got now. They dreamed of being this big, this bold. And here you are, stumbling into it without lifting a finger. Consider yourself lucky.”
“Lucky?!” My voice cracked, higher-pitched and frantic. “I didn’t want this! I didn’t ask for this!”
She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear, laced with condescension. “Oh, but darling, you will learn to love them. Trust me. You’ve got the essence of a dozen plastic princesses coursing through your veins. It’s only a matter of time before you start strutting around in heels and a bikini, flaunting those glorious melons for all the world to see. You'll get used to it eventually. Probably.”
Her laughter cut through the air. "Oh, honey, what are you gonna do? Run after me?" She tilted her head, her crimson lips curling into a sneer as she glanced down at my massive chest. "Good luck with that, sweety. You're not exactly built for speed."
Blood rushed to my face, a mix of anger and humiliation burning in my cheeks. I opened my mouth to snap back, but she was already sliding out of the car, her movements smooth and deliberate. She straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off her dress, and cast one last look at me over her shoulder.
"Have a nice life and try not to topple over, sugartits." she said, mockingly.
With that, she turned on her heel and strolled away, her hips swaying with exaggerated confidence. I tried to lunge after her, but these absurdly massive breasts pinned me back into the driver’s seat, their sheer weight and bulk making it impossible to move without toppling forward. My hands flailed uselessly against the steering wheel as I watched her walk off into the darkness, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement echoing in the night air. I sat there, frozen in disbelief, my hands still clutching the ridiculous mounds of flesh and silicone she’d cursed me with.
As I sat there, stunned and fuming, the doors of the strip club burst open. A flood of women poured out, their faces twisted in panic and confusion. They were the strippers, or were, their once-enhanced bodies now flat-chested, their curves diminished. I watched them scatter, their oversized tops slipping off their shoulders or hanging loosely around their waists, the fabric baggy where it had once clung to their ample curves.
"What the fuck happened to my tits?!" one of them shrieked, clutching at her chest as her top fell around her waist, exposing her flat chest completely. Another stumbled awkwardly getting used to her new balance, her bra straps sliding down her arms as the giant cups gaped empty, bouncing against her ribcage with each step. Bewildered as they scurried to their cars. One woman clutched her chest, her eyes wide with horror, while another muttered under her breath, “What the hell just happened?!”
I watched them scatter. All their enhancements… were in me now.
The wooden stairs groan under my weight, each step a low, protesting creak. But that’s not the thing holding my attention. It’s the deep, electric pulsing through my body as I feel the heft of my watermelon sized tits pull me down as I step down each step.
Fuck. Two months of this.
My right foot finds the next step, which I can't see of course. The incredible, impossible weight on my chest a pendulous, mesmerizing motion that ends with a heavy, settling thump against my ribcage. A sharp, bright spark of pleasure zings through my nipples, so sensitive they feel like live wires against the cheap fabric of my top.
Mmmph. A breathy, involuntary squeak of pleasure. One of the women must have loved this. Loved the feeling the heavy weight and inconvenience of them pulling at them as they try to do mundane tasks.
I take another step, deeper into the basement. One of them definitely loved the clothes. The slutty, barely-there scraps of fabric that never stood a chance of containing these. This top is straining at its seams.
Finding the Lady in Red is impossible. I’ve tried. But every time I go to a bar, my tits attract so many eyes, which in turn makes me horny. And the horniness, this almost constant, humiliating need that’s baked into my bones, just… takes over. I always end up bent over some stranger’s couch, getting railed from behind while he feels my tits, moaning about how he's never seen or felt tits this large before.
Another step. The final one. My heels hit the floor. The impact travels up my legs and translates into a deep, wobbling quake through my breasts.
Fuck. All those strippers, their essence, their desires, their goddamn plastic dreams, they’re in me now. I’m a stripper now. There’s no other option. Tits like these? They’re not for hiding. They’re for showing off, for shaking, for putting on display on a stage while a crowd tries to stuff dollar bills into my g-string. And the worst part? Even when I don’t want to, even when I’m furious and humiliated and cursing the Lady in Red under my breath, this body gets off on it.
Reductions? None of those women would ever want that. They wanted more. This body wants more. Bigger, bouncier, faker. They were turned on by their silicone trophies, and now this body is too.
The basement air felt thick and heavy. Marv, the identity forger recommended to me by a one night stand, was sitting at his desk, his eyes were locked onto my chest. His gaze was a physical heat that I could feel right through my top. The initial shock on his face had melted away, replaced by awe and admiration, a look that made my pulse stutter. Another jolt of arousal this body forced on me whenever I was objectified.
“A new identity, huh?” He leaned back in his chair. “That’s not cheap.”
My heart sank, and I looked down only to be met again with my deep cleavage. Money was a concept I’d barely grappled with over the last two months, too focused on these tits. I'd held on by having all my bills paid online, and ordering things to the house. Having groceries delivered. Going to bars to try to find the Lady in Red. Special ordering clothes and bras for these ridiculously massive tits, meant that the bills were stacking up.
“How much?” I asked.
He managed to pull his eyes up to my face. “We could work out a trade.”
I knew exactly what he meant. Fuck. It had been hours—half a day, maybe—since my last frantic, anonymous fuck in a club bathroom stall. The constant, low-level hum of need that this body lived with was already starting to spike, responding to his glances. Damn those plastic-filled strippers and what made them horny. Their essence was wired into my brain, turning every humiliation into the hottest fucking thing I’d ever experienced.
"Let me just feel them. Once in a lifetime chance, I'll probably never see tits these large again.”
A part of me—the old me—was screaming no. But that voice was drowned out by an eager throbbing between my legs. “Okay,” I heard myself say.
That was all the invitation he needed. Oh, God. The sensation was electric, a direct line of pleasure that shot straight to my clit. Every single one of those plastic sluts must have loved having their huge fake tits groped. My knees actually buckled, and I had to brace a hand against the desk.
He squeezed, his thumbs rubbing circles over my nipples. The fabric did nothing to dull the sensation. A shiver wracked my body.
One of his hands slid down, over my hip, pulling me flush against him.
It was a blur after that. His mouth was on my neck, his hands groping me, and I was pulling at his belt. This had become routine. This body’s sex drive was a bottomless pit, a fusion of a dozen slutty, plastic-filled strippers who lived for this exact moment. He turned me around, bending me over the cluttered desk. Papers crinkled under my hands. My massive tits settled on the wood with a heavy thump, I was happy that it was taking some of the strain off my back. I was practically resting my entire upper body on them, with my ass in the air.
He slid into me, filling me completely. Oh, fuck! I gasped.
The desk rattled with every thrust. My heavy tits jiggling just a tad on the wooden surface with every movement.
“So,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort, “what… kind of name… you want?”
“Something… anything… just pick.” The words came out in a desperate moan, my body betraying me as I arched into him.
"Jasmine Juggs?" he teased, punctuating each ridiculous suggestion with another deep thrust that made me moan louder than intended. "Minxi Mammaries? Kayla Cleavage?" Each name being called out in a playful jokey tone.
I could barely form a thought. “S-something normMMmmal, like Sarah Mi-miller” I managed to moan, the words broken.
He laughed and mocked. “No fucking way. NormMMmmal? With those? You're not a 'Sarah Mi-Miller.” He leaned forward to grab me by my massive tits, using them to drive into me deeper.
"How about this? I’ll list names and when you start screaming ‘yes,’ that’s what I put on your papers."
“Bambi Bigguns,” Marv suggested, his voice dripping with amusement. The name was ridiculous, but the sound of it sent a spark of unwanted arousal through me. My body betrayed me, clenching around him as heat flooded my cheeks. “No,” I managed to gasp, though the word came out weaker than I intended.
He chuckled, his thrusts steady and deliberate. “Think of how you could market yourself on the internet,” he said, his tone teasing. “Bambi Bigguns: the biggest tits on the internet.”
The humiliating thought twisted inside me, equal parts mortification and arousal. My traitorous body responded to the idea of having such a ludicrous name for the rest of my life.
"How about Mandi Mountains?”
Mandi Mountains. The name echoed in my head, and for a moment, I could picture it—introducing myself to someone new by reaching around my gigantic fake tits and saying: “Hi, I’m Ms. Mountains.” Their eyes would drop to my chest, their lips twitching with suppressed laughter. Signing paperwork, the name Mandi Mountains hastily scrawled across the page while reaching over my massive juggs. The humiliation was unbearable and it sent a thrill of arousal shooting through me, my body responding with a fresh wave of pleasure.
“No,” I whimpered, my voice weak. But my hips were rocking back against him, my body begging for more.
"Kara Kumdump?"
"Ugh, p-pleeeasse," I gasped, my voice breaking as pleasure and humiliation collided, twisting my words into a mess of moans. "I-I-I don’t w-wanna be called K-KARA KUUUUuuuummmDU-AH-u-u-uMP!" My body arched uncontrollably, my hips rocking back into him as my watermelon sized tits jiggled against the desk. The degradation burned hot in my chest, but my body couldn’t stop reacting.
"They’d say something like… ‘Did you get a load of the size of those tits on that Cumdump?’" His words sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through me.
"FUCK! NO! N-not— ahhh—n-not that!" My hands clawed at the edge of the desk for stability. My words dissolved into a messy string of moans, each one punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his hips. "P-please, I-I can’t— OHHH—be K-Kara KUM-AH-DUMP!"
The humiliation only fueling the fire burning in my core. The thought of someone saying that—of looking at me and seeing nothing but a name like Kara Kumdump—was unbearable, and hot. My moans grew louder, more desperate, my hips moving of their own accord as I teetered on the edge of release.
His rythm picked up. “Candi Kumslut?”
“OOHHhhhho NO, I-I don’t— UNNGHA— wanna be a, ahhh, KUMSSSsssslut EiiiiTHER!” I keened, my voice breaking into a desperate, high-pitched moan.
My eyes flicked up to the wall mirror mounted behind his desk, and for a split second, I caught a glimpse of myself—a sight that only fueled the fire burning inside. My massive tits were sprawled across the cluttered surface, pressing into the wood as my ass arched high in the air. My face was slack, mouth hung open, eyes glazed over with need.
This face, these tits, and that name? Humiliating and degrading, and it only made the heat between my legs burn hotter.
I fought to keep control. But it was slipping away, inch by excruciating inch. I can’t hold on much longer.
I gritted my teeth, trying to focus on anything but the pleasure coursing through me. Not Candi Kumslut. Not Candi Kumslut. But the chant in my head did little to stem the tide of sensation crashing over me. My body was on fire, every nerve screaming for release. My tits squished and jiggled uncontrollably against the desk with each thrust, the weight of them making the wood creak beneath me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my clit throbbing wildly, my pussy clenching around him like a vice.
PLEASE— F-FUCK, I can’t— OHHHHHH— be a Kumslut!” I wailed, my voice cracking as another wave of pleasure crashed over me, threatening to drag me under completely. My back arching as I writhed against him. Oh God, I’m such a slut for this, the realization that this name would suit the new me sent a fresh surge of pleasure coursing through me.
Marv laughed, his breath hot against my ear as he leaned closer. “With tits like these? You've gotta be one already.”
“P-Please, ah ah.” I whimpered.
"Maxi Raxxi?”
“Maxi Raxxi,” Marv repeated with a low chuckle, “that’s the name of someone who definitely has to special-order bras. For sure the name of a woman who loves having tits this massive.” His tone was teasing as his hands gripped my gigantic tits, helping him drive into me harder. “With tits this big, that's gotta be the name of a woman who can only see her feet with a mirror.”
Marv’s voice was a low, taunting murmur in my ear. “Imagine it, you’re on stage at Plastic Night, the spotlight hits you, and the announcer calls out your name— ‘Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Maxi Raxxi!’” His hands gave me a squeeze that made me gasp. "'The Woman Who Took Her Rack to the MAXXX' can be the title of your porno. You'll be the queen of the plastic scene. Plastic Night will never be the same once they get a load of you. You’ll be a true Plastic Princess, Maxi.”
I felt my body stiffen at his words, 'Plastic Night' a fresh surge of heat flooding between my legs. No, I thought desperately, I can’t be Maxi Raxxi. I can’t be that woman. But the image was already burned into my mind—the stage, the lights, the crowd staring at me with hungry eyes as my ridiculous, oversized tits bounced with every step.
“N-n-nnnooo-ahhh-OOOOO!” I tried to scream, but my words dissolved into a mess of stuttering moans.
With a raw, guttural cry, I shattered. My orgasm exploded through me, all-consuming, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure tore through every inch of me. My back arched as much as it could, my massive tits slamming against the desk with every shuddering breath. I screamed, the sound raw and desperate, as I came harder than I ever had before.
“A-aaaahhhh—Y-YESSSSSSah! Fffff—F-FUUUUUUccckkkk YE-AH-UH-YESSSSSS!” My brain short-circuited, pleasure overriding every thought. My hips grinding against him as the orgasm tore through me.
“I-I-I’mm—NAH -NAH A-aAHHH—MmaaaAAAAxiii-R-Raaa-AH-uh-uh-UH-xxxi!” The name came out in a desperate, elongated wail, my voice breaking
“OH GOD! OHHH FUUUUUUUuuuuuCK YEEEEEEESSSSSSAH!” The words barely intelligible through my gasping moans. His thrusts were relentless, driving me deeper into pleasure, my mind unraveling with every pump of his hips.
“I’m—I’m—OHHHHHHHHHH!” I wailed, my voice trembling, breaking, as my world turned white-hot. “I Cah-ah-ah NNNT BE MAAAAAXI AH-AH-AH OH GOD YES RAAAXXXI! OH GOD, I’M RAXXXX-EEE-” The name spilled from my lips. Maxi Raxxi.
My body bucked wildly, my tits jiggled. “YESSSS! YESSSS! OH FUCK YEEEEESSSSS!” I babbled, my voice hoarse and broken. In the mirror behind the desk, I caught a glimpse of myself—Maxi Raxxi, writhing and screaming, my massive tits jiggling with every thrust. My face in pure ecstasy, my mouth hanging open in pleasure as the name Maxi Raxxi echoed in my mind, sealing my fate.
The orgasm tore through me like a wildfire, unrelenting and all-consuming. My legs shook uncontrollably, my nails clawing at the wood as I came harder than ever before.
Every nerve alight with pleasure as his cock pounded into me. The thought of being called Maxi Raxxi for the rest of my life burned in my mind, humiliating and degrading, just what a slut with this body would want. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, one after another. My hips jerked backwards uncontrollably, trying to get more as I screamed, “OH GOD! YESSSS! I’M MAXI RAXXXI!” The name echoed in my head, a cruel reminder of my new reality, as my orgasm refused to let go.
He groaned behind me, his rhythm faltering as he reached his own climax. But I was already gone, my mind melting into the pleasure, the name, the shame. Maxi Raxxi.
“Maxi Raxxi it is,” he panted. “Pleasure doing business with you, Maxi.”
I stayed bent over the desk, my massive tits still pressed flat against the wood, as Marv stepped away. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body trembling with the aftershocks. I could hear him moving around the room, the rustle of papers, the clink of something metallic. I didn’t turn to look. My mind was a haze of humiliation and lingering arousal, my skin still tingling where he’d touched me.
A sharp spank landed on my ass, making me yelp and arch involuntarily. The sting was shocking and delicious, sending a fresh jolt of heat straight to my core. I moaned, hating how eager it sounded, how much my body seemed to crave more. "All done," Marv said, casually.
I pushed myself up with shaking arms, my heavy tits dragging across the desk as I straightened. My skirt was rumpled, my top still bunched up around my waist. I quickly tried to put it back, hoping in vain to regain some semblance of dignity.
My tits jiggled wildly with every movement, the weight of them sending shockwaves through my body. I could feel Marv’s eyes on me, watching intently as I fought with the fabric. The top clung stubbornly to my shoulders, refusing to stretch far enough to cover everything. I groaned in frustration, my fingers slipping as I tried to pull it down. Finally, with an awkward shimmy, I managed to get it over the widest part of my chest, the material straining to contain me.
The moment it was on, I could feel how hard my nipples were underneath—poking obscenely against the tight fabric. I wanted to lean forward and check if they were visible, but then it hit me: I couldn’t see my own nipples anymore. Not without a mirror. The realization made me groan again, a mix of frustration and embarrassment that somehow sent a fresh spark of arousal through me. My body betrayed me again, a traitorous warmth pooling between my legs as I stood there, exposed and humiliated.
"Need a hand?" Marv teased as he watched me struggle.
Marv tossed a small plastic card onto the desk—my new ID. My photo looked back at me, my face flushed, my eyes slightly dazed. And besides it, in bold letters: Maxi Raxxi. I let out a huff of frustration. This was my life now.
"Want to go for round two?" Marv asked, his tone light, like he was offering a cup of coffee.
I shoved the ID into the cavernous depths of my cleavage. It disappeared between my absurdly large breasts, the cool plastic barely noticeable against my overheated skin. I yanked my skirt into place and turned toward the stairs without another word.
Maxi Raxxi. It was ridiculous. I sighed heavily, adjusting my clothing to better support my ridiculously heavy chest, and began my treacherous journey up the stairs to live my horny, humiliating new as Maxi Raxxi.
