He's fat like her

“Why not? Don’t tell me, it’s someone else, isn’t it?”

I felt my fingers nervously scratching at the pant legs of my jeans, trying to take all of my nervous energy and cast it out through there instead of continuing its bottling up inside of me; unfortunately, it seemed to be coming out of a limitless reservoir.

“N-no! No, of course not! It’s just…I…”

“Jesus Christ, Kevin, spit it out, please!” God, it hurt looking into those eyes and see how anger and sadness mixed to create a picture of pure frustration, and she had every right to be frustrated with me. Deep down, I knew Heather was everything I could have asked for in a woman: a bold, outgoing attitude, confidence for miles, an adorable face, a beautiful head of lush, dark hair, and, well…curves. A lot of them. No two ways about it, Heather was fat; I mean, super-fat, I guess. And the fact is her size absolutely drove me wild; it was what drew me to her that first night in the bar, how much bigger she was than everyone around us, and how she seemed thrilled to flaunt her size for all to see without a care in the world. I was normally too shy to get very far with most women, but something possessed me that night to take the initiative and strike up a conversation with her; within hours I was experiencing her enormous softness riding atop my body and making my bed frame creak with wild abandon, a ride I’d never forget and one I’d thankfully get to have again many times over since I introduced myself nearly a year ago.  

But now we sat here in her apartment, where we usually met, and the dreaded ‘s’ word had popped up: Heather wanted us to ‘get serious’. I had felt my blood run cold the moment the words left her lips, even asked her to clarify, like I didn’t know what she meant. A million possibilities and potential embarrassing moments ran through my head, and I realized I had to get out of here, and quick.

“I mean, I don’t think I can be what you deserve. Y’know, with work and everything-”

“Oh God, please don’t bullshit me.” She brought her hands up to her temples. “I know we’ve just been fuck buddies, and that’s fine, but don’t act like I don’t know your schedule. You’re perfectly happy coming home from work, perfectly normal time, and relaxing at home. I don’t think there are many things going on there that would keep you from a legitimate relationship. So that means it’s something else, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not!”

“Kevin, be honest.”

I stammered; I opened my mouth and nothing would come out.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “that’s what I thought. I’ve been in this scene before.” She gave me a hard gaze right in the eye, a look that carried bitter sarcasm. “Tell me how close I am: ‘Oh no, she’s so fat, and I guess I’m still mentally in high school because I’m too much of a chickenshit to date a fat girl and risk getting ragged on by people I probably don’t even like.’ That it?”

I tried once more to speak, but couldn’t get anything out; in my head I felt slightly dizzy, or at least numb. She had nailed it, nailed me: meeting Heather in the darkened bar that late Saturday night and slinking out back to my place hadn’t been any kind of ‘risk’, so to speak, but full-on dating? Going everywhere with her? Introducing her to my friends and family? What about just sitting out in public? Heather probably outweighed me by well over two hundred pounds, what kind of looks would we get? I could only see confused faces, disgusted expressions, probing, uncomfortable questions, the other guys in town laughing, the girls snickering derisively, and the thought of it all terrified me into absolute paralysis on the matter.

At a complete loss, I did the only thing I could manage: I stood up off the couch. I felt my shoulders drop, and I’m sure my expression dipped just as low. I had just been thinking of all kinds of ways I could let her down easy, but my silence had done the work for me, of that I was sure. With slow, shaky steps I began to make my way to the door.

“Ungh,” I heard her sigh and then let out a high-pitched squeak as she hefted her ponderous four hundred-plus pound frame off the cushions, then turned to face her. “Look, Kevin, let me-” she paused for a moment and looked away, seemingly in thought, and then reached down to grab something out of her purse; I saw a stick of lip gloss I had never seen her use before, which she began looking over. She nodded to herself then looked back at me. “I’ve got an idea. No, not getting back together: if you’re all scared shitless because some assholes would judge you for dating a fat girl, that’s your problem, not mine. My time’s too precious to wait for you to grow up and get over it.”

I glumly nodded. I knew she was right, and I knew I was denying myself a pleasure I really wanted to indulge in, but it was no use; I couldn’t get the mocking expressions out of my mind. I could tell, though, that playing the sad sack wasn’t winning any brownie points with her.  

“God, you’re acting so pathetic. Screw it: you need a kick in the ass.”

I braced myself, wondering what she meant to do, but only recoiled for a moment in surprise as she leaned in and kissed me, hard. What happened to ‘not getting back together’? I nearly pulled back to ask her, but something felt different with this kiss compared with ones we had shared before: there was something, I don’t know, I guess rougher about it, something fiercer. I wondered if there was something weird going on with the lip gloss she had taken out, but her whole demeanor felt different than usual, like her huge form was enveloping me, like a predator engulfing its prey. Heather usually liked me to take the lead in bed, even if I needed coaxing to come out of my shell sometimes, but this time her hands ran roughly through my curly brown hair, and then pulled hard at it when she broke it off, both of us breathing heavily.

As she caught herself, she gave me a soft shove away. “Alright, here’s your heads up: the next time we’re at the full moon portion of the lunar cycle, you’re going to spend a night getting…let’s just say an alternative perspective on things. You’re going to see and feel things you never imagined before, and you’re probably not going to know the first thing to do with yourself, not right away, at least. What you do with your new point of view is totally up to you, but my only warning is to be mindful of your appetites; they have a funny way of getting out of hand when we ignore or indulge them too much. Whatever you do, I hope it wakes you the hell up. Goodbye, Kevin…goodbye for now.”

I could feel my jaw go slack, not out of fear, but out of sheer confusion: so she was actually nuts? I backed away, grasping for the doorknob, and clumsily twisted it until I realized I had to get the lock unhinged first, then made my way outside and down the hallway, my steps nearly turning into a jog as I made my way downstairs and out the door. When the cool night air hit me I almost smiled: that hadn’t been fun, but the knowledge that Heather was a whacko actually gave me a sense of relief, like a burden off my shoulders: that had to have been a bullet successfully dodged!

I imagined ridiculous scenarios like she had described over in my head, wondering what she could have possibly been on about: what, was I a werewolf now? Was I going to get superpowers? I thought about the story this could end up being the next time I saw a couple of my friends at the pub; sure, I’d leave out the whole “she was an incredibly fat girl” part, but a jilted girl telling me I had some kind of full moon curse? How many guys had that kind of dating nightmare story in their back pocket?  

The potential jokes in my head made the trek home feel nice and quick, and I quickly settled in for the night, grabbing a glass of water and flicking on the TV while I got ready for bed. Once I had gotten brushed up and changed I stamped toward my messy bedroom and threw the blankets back, but paused for a moment. I had to set my cell phone’s alarm for the next morning, but a slight impulse hit me, and I opened up an app that had some advanced weather information on it. Scrolling through, sure enough, there it was: the next one hundred percent full moon would be five nights from now. Hopping into bed, I rolled my eyes and chuckled to myself: well, if I was going to make a funny story out of this I guess I owed it to myself to at least wait for the first night of my ‘curse’ or whatever to kick in, to give the punchline some extra drama. Pulling up the blankets I leaned back, and was off to sleep more quickly than I was usually accustomed to; part of me still felt bad about how things had gone tonight, but it seemed my coping mechanism was paying off.

As I drifted off to sleep, though, I thought I could start seeing shapes in my mind’s eye as I began the trek toward dreamland. And I could really swear that one of those shapes was distinctly feminine. Then I could swear I could make out clear skin, bright eyes, and blonde hair on that figure. Most of all, as I fell deeper into slumber, I could absolutely swear I heard something, not loud, not a whisper, not even truly spoken in any sense of the word I could readily describe, but crystal clear nonetheless.

Sweet dreams, Kevin; I’ll be seeing you.

Soon.

* * *

The week proceeded as normal, life going through its typical ebbs and flows, mostly quiet as I kept to myself and focused on work. I still felt bad about how things had gone with Heather, but there was no real use in focusing on it now; I surfed some of the usual sites, things like dating pages for fat admirers, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it was time to find a thinner girl and settle down. Not today, though; sitting home that night I figured I’d just make it a quiet Friday night in my apartment, nursing a beer or two with a couple of movies streaming. As I finished my first drink and went to hit play on the video, I noticed through my window that the sun had gone down.

And in the very next moment I yelped in pain and doubled over, falling out of my seat.

My stomach felt like it was about to tear in half! I cried out, physically incapable of doing anything more than clutching at my midsection and rolling my face on the rug, a vain attempt to get myself into any kind of position that might alleviate the pressure and pain. My brain, meanwhile, flashed back to my entire day, trying to cobble together if I had eaten or otherwise ingested anything that could possibly cause such a sharp and sudden stab in the gut.

Those thoughts were interrupted by a cracking sound coming from my hands. Holding one out, I felt my eyes go wide with shock: my palms were shrinking! A sound like bones crunching filled the air as I saw my hands becoming smaller and begin to thin out, their skin tone lightning a bit as my metacarpals became more visible, the added effects making my fingers appear longer. The sound took on an wet-sounding quality, like someone was moving objects through a thick sauce, but looking up my arms I could see my flesh actually crawling, swelling and then shrinking, settling into a new shape that was skinnier than I had known before.

Sweat began to bead on my forehead; I knew, logically, that I should have scrambled for my phone, tried to dial emergency, anything to get help for this situation, but when I saw the hairs on my arm recede back into my skin, I felt incapable of doing anything but watching, transfixed by the impossible process playing out inside of me. I felt and heard my shoulders pull in on themselves, losing what minor broadness I sported, as my collarbone became slightly more visible; below that, I lifted up my shirt and saw my belly moving around wildly, pulsating out and then sucking back in, the wet, sloshing noises inside implying that my organs themselves were moving around in some inexplicable way.

I rolled over once more, surprised to feel my hip touch the floor before I expected it to. I landed on my knees, face still down and behind thrust into the air, but peeked up as a glimmer came through my window: the full moon.

Oh God.

Heather’s words came back to me in vivid detail, and an intense fear unlike anything I had ever felt gripped my heart, forcing me to breathe harder, anything to avoid going lightheaded and passing out. As it came into view I stared straight at the moon, its light filling me, its soft radiance making the pulsations within me begin to stir even more. As my breaths became more ragged, I could hear them rising in pitch; as I tried to keep my face up, I could feel the tickling of lengthening hair as it brushed against my cheeks and down my neck; as I tried to lift myself, I could feel a severe cinching around my waist and running down my spine, a sickening CRACK ringing out as I felt my spinal cord press inward, followed by two just as loud POPs coming from my hips, their width flaring outward, a strange, fleshy shaking coming from my rear.

More, I felt something softer, squishier; my chest had not sunk any lower toward the floor, but nevertheless I felt a brushing, a tingling, as my nipples began to graze the rug below me, teasing against the fabric of my shirt. I groaned and braced myself, my face straining as I felt my features moving, rearranging in ways I couldn’t know without the aid of a mirror. As the crackling and gurgling settled I let out a loud, feminine cry, the pops stopping as my body settled into place, following by a steady swelling feeling in my chest as I felt two large, fleshy orbs press harder and harder against the floor, pooling out around me.

Finally, I felt one last wave of changes: the sleeves of my shirt seemed to melt away, the fabric around my neck tightening and rolling down my chest; underneath, I felt two supportive cups nestle me, taking the growths on my chest and pushing them tightly together. My pants, meanwhile, felt different: the fabric became denim, while my pant legs rode higher and higher, up toward my crotch; beneath that, I felt something soft and whispery, a dream material caressing my cock, turning my fearful cries into moans as my lower head was teased by it. Instinctively, I felt my left arm shoot back and reach out behind me, grabbing at my own ass until my fingers made their way down toward my balls; without any idea why, I began to rub small circles around my target, allowing the soft underwear I now wore to take up all of my focus. The more I rubbed, the smoother the area felt; I found myself grabbing and pushing, fingers insistently rubbing around until I thought I felt moisture seeping through. My eyes half-shut; with one final cry I felt my cock pulse and shoot out ropes of cum into my short…but nowhere near the amount I was used to. Instead, my once thick rod had shrunk down, worming its way back inside of me, until I felt my climax internalize and warm my entire body with a flood of feeling that finally caused me to tilt over and land on my side, knees drawn close and arms wrapped around myself.

I did my best to slow my breathing, to focus, to figure out what had happened. Inside, I knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. Unsteady, but getting a bit stronger by the moment, I finally rose to my feet and walked with halting steps toward my bedroom mirror, feeling alien movements and bounces in my step, my gait that of someone unsure of their center of gravity. I knew what awaited me, but having the full knowledge of the scope of my changes was a terrifying prospect. My reflection wasn’t a complete shock, but I gasped nonetheless: I was gorgeous.

It felt weird to think of it that way, but there was no use in denying it: I had long, blonde locks around a pretty face, nicely made up with just the right amount of lipstick and eyeshadow. My top was an apple red halter, and my tits pressed together in a way that made me want to shake them, to know what it really felt like to have actual breasts. A toned belly lead down to high-waisted jean shorts, which proudly displayed by wider hips and long, shapely legs. I noticed a pair of shoes by my feet; I knew they had been my work shoes just a few hours before, but they were now a set of open-faced high heels, with multiple inches of height and only thin straps to cross my feet. Despite myself, I felt an internal longing at the sight; acting without a thought, I slipped them on, and posed for myself in the mirror, captivated by how they shaped my thighs and ass. I don’t know when I did it, but I even found myself snapping a selfie at my reflection, with a phone in a multi-colored case that had certainly not been mine just an hour ago. The smile on the face of the girl in the photo surprised me, but the longer I was like this, the more my fears were subsiding; this was rapidly becoming normal, expected…comfortable.

Ggr-rrrrr!

That is, until I felt my stomach begin to rumble.

More of Heather’s words came back to my mind: something about “appetites”, about how we couldn’t starve or overfeed them. I winced and brought my hand to my belly at the feeling that now bombarded me; judging my the sound it had just made, I must have used up a lot of energy in my transformation, and judging by the feeling I doubted that any amount of food I could find would satisfy it.

Driven by pure, instinctual hunger, I raced toward my kitchen; all thoughts of calling any authorities or seeking any kind of help had fled from my mind, as only the overwhelming sense that I might starve was motivating my actions. I threw my cupboard open and dove in, searching for anything I didn’t have to worry about preparing: a bag of chocolate chip cookies was the first thing I saw, and before I knew it I had polished off half a row of the things in a matter of seconds! I pawed at a few more, but thought of how that might not fill me, just empty sugar calories and all, so I threw open the fridge and began to dig around. I swigged soda as I looked and found my target, slices of cured meat with a side of mozzarella cheese. A box of crackers fell out of the cupboard, and I scrambled to piece them all together, topping each crisp with a slice of meat and a chunk of cheese before gobbling it down as rapidly as I could. When I felt like pausing from the effort, I merely dove back into the cookies, tossing two at a time into my mouth; my stomach still growled, but for the moment it had at least been tamed. As the ravenous feeling in me died down, though a new feeling rose up.

Ecstasy.

Not ready for what hit me, I quickly grabbed a kitchen chair and sank into it, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as a wave even more powerful than the orgasm I had experienced before washed over me. I was at its mercy, unable to think clearly about anything but the feeling of food being chewed in my mouth, of each bit of it that sank down into my belly, and the sensation of fullness that would tease me for a moment only to recede just as quickly, leaving my hunger still gnawing, still beckoning me to fill myself up as much as I could. Looking down, I realized I had begun rubbing my belly over my shirt; undoing one button, I thought of scrambling my hand down, to take the edge off myself and hopefully bring some calm in all of this insanity.

As my finger grazed the front of my panties, though, my stomach roared back all the louder. I stopped, looked down at myself, perplexed at my new body’s reactions, unsure how to proceed. When I tried once again to reach for the crackers, the pulsing and aching in my shorts returned; when I tried to bring a hand down below, to explore my new sex, my belly grumbled in frustration, wanting to be full again, as if I hadn’t eaten anything just seconds ago.

Desperate, I practically ran in my heels, shockingly keeping balance like it was nothing, and opened up a website for food delivery; I knew I didn’t have enough in my place right now to satisfy what was growing inside of me, and I would never be able to deal with cooking as I was right now. When I hit send, I hurried back to the kitchen, looking desperately for anything else that could tide me over for the half hour or so I’d be stuck waiting for the doorbell to ring; thankfully there were some Chinese leftovers, about half a serving of sesame chicken, which I did my best to only nosh on slowly as I waited, despite protests from my hungering insides. My new lips down below still yearned for pleasure, but the best I could do was some soft massages through my shorts, grinding against my own hand, feeling an animalistic passion inside of me that had my conscious brain wondering if I could ever recover from this experience.

Bzzt!

The doorbell! I practically leapt forward to buzz the delivery person in, counting down the seconds until they reached the third floor. As I landed, though, I felt something: looking and reaching down, my belly, taut at the moment of my change, suddenly…jiggled?

A knock at the door caught my attention and pulled my hand from my shirt. Unlocking the door, I saw a young delivery man, probably college aged, holding my stack of two pizzas and bowls of pasta and salad. I nearly bowled him over as I reached to get my needed sustenance, but felt a shudder once more run through me. Stopping to gather my wits, I held the food close, but found myself staring up at his eyes; the moment I did, the vibration from my new pussy became an all-encompassing roar, like hearing the ocean in your ear when picking up a seashell. I tried to mouth a quick word of thanks, but found myself staring, gape-mouthed, at a kid who couldn’t have been more than twenty or so.

“So, uh,” he shuffled a bit uncomfortably, as I could tell he was looking at my chest, “that for a party?”

My mouth was nearly dry, but I shook my head and focused. “Oh, um…uh, yeah, you could say that.”

“Huh, sounds fun.” He scratched at his arm awkwardly, and began to turn back toward the stairs. “Uh, have a good one-”

“Wait!” I was surprised by the urgency in my voice. He turned and faced me, expectation written across his face. “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Jake. What’s yours?”

I fumbled for a moment, but not too long. “K-Kiera. I’m, uh, new here.”

“Oh, cool; let me know if you want anyone to show you around town, then.”

“Yeah, um,” oh my God, what the hell was I doing?! “Could you…would you possibly like to…uh, come in? Come in and, um…I kinda need a hand with something.”

I could see him try to hide the smile that was spreading across his lips. While he stepped forward, I tossed the food onto the coffee table in the living room, hurried back, and nearly pounced on him, dragging him into the apartment and wrapping my arms and legs around him, shoving my tongue deep into his mouth. Where had this come from?! I had never been into guys! Why couldn’t I control myself around one right now?

Heather’s words again: “appetites”, “out of hand”, “indulge”…

As he kissed me back I felt him fumble at the button of my shorts, which allowed my belly, now swollen outward from the food I had been stuffing myself with for probably at least the past hour, to bounce free a bit, creating a cute paunch of baby fat. Before he could strip me all the way down, though, I broke our kiss off for just a moment, only enough time to get a few words out.

“Pizza…get…the…pizza!”

He seemed confused, but eager to comply. I had to figure he was still pretty inexperienced, but I was about to settle both of my appetites, and I needed his help to do it. Practically tearing the lid off of one pie, I pointed at my mouth, and had him bring bite after bite toward my waiting jaws. As the warm, melty cheese and red sauce flowed onto my tongue along with the dough that stayed just crisp enough to compliment the other textures within, I could feel my entire body begin to shake; without a thought, I grabbed his free hand and shoved it into my panties, thrusting my hips out so he would give me both things I needed at once. At times I would bring his fingers up and lick them clean; I don’t know what possessed me to do it,  as I was feeling like a passenger in my own body, but I could sense it increasing his sex drive, and I wanted that above all else, wordless thoughts in my head assuring me that this would be the answer I was seeking.

We sat that way for who knows how long; by the time it was over, I had gone through ten slices, my stomach filled to bursting, and if he had had any for himself I couldn’t have been bothered to pay attention. My head lolled from side to side from the feelings of intense satiety in my belly and the continued dancing of his fingers in my shorts, his hand now enveloped by a slight droop that had appeared on my belly, an added layer of softness that made it more resemble a small gut. Nearing my brink, I pulled his hand away, one more licking him clean, then dove down to unzip his pants, cradling his surprisingly large member in my hands and stuffing it into my mouth with the same eagerness I had shown for all the food that had passed my way so far.

I brushed my hair away to give myself unimpeded movement, only to feel him playfully tug at my locks, making me moan luridly with my mouth full, and not for the first time tonight. I was a woman possessed, dying for him to unleash his essence within me: my twin hungers had seemingly merged, and I now knew what I had to do before the night was over.

With a hard shove I laid him back on the couch and straddled him, bringing my luscious pussy, soaked thoroughly, down to impale myself on his manhood. The lightning bolt that shot through me was otherworldly; I thought I screamed, but I’m not sure I was even able to manage a sound in that moment, despite my ecstatic expression. At this point I wasn’t entirely sure how much of what I was doing was my own accord, this body’s desires, or some strange hybrid thereof; all I knew is that I could ride this stallion for all he was worth, the energy I had regained from my feasting fueling me to buck up and down, his entire length thrusting back inside of me until I decided to grind and roll my hips, ensuring he hit every corner of my insides, especially my new special spot. I knew I was barely regarding his presence, but all I knew right now was that he and I were both deliciously close to what I needed, and I would not be wasting such an opportunity.

The first orgasm from our intercourse rocked me, and hard. The second waved through me and set everything outward to my fingertips ablaze. At the third I could see him grimacing, his own expression of release appearing. In a flash I flew off him, and brought my bare tits down to his moistened cock, bringing it between my bulging chest and allowing my tongue to taste all of my flavor on him before I pressed hard and allowed my breasts to milk what he had. With a great groan he unloaded inside of me: thick strands now flew into my mouth, enough that some spilled out the sides and down to his balls; I held on tightly, not wishing to miss any as its richness filled me, its flavor becoming more and more intoxicating with each pulse. Its warmth filled my belly, and for the first time all night I began to feel my hungers subside, my passions become controlled. I eagerly licked up what I had failed to catch, taking my time to enjoy every bit before I kissed his exhausted rod and zipped it back into place.

You are a man that was once happily married to what you thought was the girl of your dreams. You lived in a small town in the mountains of Kentucky and everyone knew everybody. About a year into being married your wife started letting herself go, not caring about her once idolized figure she once had, she had become a bit chunky and the last words you spoke to her before storming out with a suitcase in hand was “I’m done you fat cunt, I’m moving somewhere far away from this dull town! and you! You cow!” Your wife left you with a few words “Hahaha, we will see about that…” You didn’t know what she meant by that but you just needed to get away from her toxicity.

You didn’t care about filing for a divorce, you figured if you could get out of the country she will never find you. You then went to a travel agency about 2 towns over. It was a small agency but they had locations all over the world were you could choose where to begin your new life…

The agents name was Tracy and she seemed nice and very helpful. You told her you wanted to move somewhere far from here and out of the country. She then showed you postcards of 4 different locations.

Hmmmm? Which location to choose?

Australia

Ireland

Brazil

Kentucky??

You waited patiently for the new virtual reality game Dark Life. It was a Japan only release, and required a special virtual reality headset. You met a hacker online and were able to acquire the game and a prototype VR headset a month before it’s release. The game was basically virtual reality porn, except you saw through the eyes of a female or male in the game, it was also a rumor that you might feel sensations while playing the game with the new revolutionary VR headset. You rushed home from work, grabbed some lube, stripped naked and threw on your prototype VR headset…

You booted up the game and prepared for a high quality masturbating session. When the game started the screen kept spazzing out on you, the headset also seemed to send small tingling sensations on your face, you just figured it’s nothing mainly due to it being a hacked early version of the game and the headset being a prototype. The game opened and you had to choose male or female. You thought to yourself “I want to be fucking the female” so you chose female. You then saw pictures of 4 different women. The photos were just of the top of there heads and there eyes and nose not really showing what they looked like…

Hmmm which one to choose???

Choice #1

Choice #2

Choice #3

Choice #4

It was a war as old as time as you watched the screaming go on from both sides. Blondes versus brunettes and you were right in middle of it, how did it come to this? You watch as both sides of women of each hair color argue.  

“Ok well, before I was rudely interrupted by Barbie over there, my name is Alexia I am the representative of all the brunette’s in the world, well actually I am the head witch of a order of brunette witches, which have decided to make ourselves the representatives of all brunette women and you have been chosen to…

“Oh gawd you are droning on, brunettes are so boring,” A blonde woman interrupted. “Hi my name is Trisha and like the boring brunette I am a witch representative of all the blonde women of the world.”

At that moment, both women glared at each other and then turned back to you and spoke in unison.

“You see we are sick of the feud between, blondes and brunettes and we have made a  spell to decide the winner,” They continued. “This spell will make it so that one set of women is clearly superior to the other, but the only catch is that we have to pick a random person to make the decision.”

Though you still seemed confused, both women believed that you understood enough.

“So who will it be the sexy and smart brunettes of the dumb fake blondes?” Alexia said.

“Please, brunettes are as sexy as their mustaches,” Trisha said. “No I know this man and he prefers the fun and vibrant blondes.”

So who will it be? Remember your decision will change the world.

I prefer brunettes.

I prefer blondes.

*Anon asked: can you turn me into a hot fat women with a fart problem and a huge ass?*

And I have to be honest with you here; I’ve never understood the kink for fat gassy women. Not judging, there’s no shame in liking what we like, I’m just laying it out there that I do not understand the processes in your brain that make you want to volunteer for this. But, that being said, it’s admirably selfless and you will provide an invaluable service for the women in your area.

Because as of now, any time any woman within sight of you would feel the need to fart, you’ll do it instead. Right at the final moment of crisis when she realizes the pressure is uncontrollable, it will vanish, leaving her slightly confused but comfortable and relieved. But for you there will never be any warning, no opportunity to control timing or volume, just a split second of sudden unstoppable pressure followed by whatever sort of fart it was going to be. You might even get to cope with two or three passing simultaneously. Actually we can throw burping into this deal too, right?

In addition any woman you can see that happens to be eating something not entirety healthy, you’ll get the effect of the excess calories. Just spend one afternoon at a mall food court and you should be well on your way to your adipose goals. Now I know you wanted to be a woman, and I am sorry I can’t do that. But the good news here is that since you’ll be packing on feminine fat, you’ll start to carry it like a woman would. Your hips and thighs and belly and butt will swell with fat, fatty deposits will grow on your chest, becoming huge and saggy, and then your limbs and back and face will fill in, and then it will just continue from there. Like a lot of women you’ll carry most of that weight below the waist, and given enough time cars and doors and chairs are going to become problematic for your colossal cellulite riddled ass.

Honestly just let your hair grow and keep yourself shaved and no one will ever know the difference. It’s not like they’re lining up around the block to check out your genitals, am I right? In fact, *that* I can do for you! All of your ability to grow hair is now focused on your head. One good body shave and it’ll never come back, plus you’ll grow plenty of hair to play with and frequently style. Or, you know, someone will. You won’t be raising your arms up to your head much.

Again I’m truly humbled by your willingness to act as a landfill for unwanted bodily functions and excess weight. I really don’t understand how it can, but I hope it makes you happy.

(Inspired by a conversation with the lovely @ravenpeaches )

Bill was at his local watering hole in his middle-class suburban neighborhood with his middle-class suburban friends to watch the game and wind down from the work week at the office when they walked in. 4 women clad in leather and carrying motorcycle helmets. Bill smiled as he heard one of his friends say “holy shit, when did this become a lesbian bar?” Intentionally loud enough so they could hear him. The 4 women shot the man a look and then sat at a table in the back of the bar. Bills courage was bolstered by the beer he’d been drinking and the obvious fact that everyone felt these women were out of place so he stood and walked over noting the large patches on the back of their jackets that said “COVEN” in large letters above an image of a witch riding a motorcycle.

“Coven huh?” Bill said as he approached “do you guys really need helmets for your broomsticks?” He chuckled at his own lame joke as he spilled his beer on the closest woman. “Let me guess you ride because you like the vibration after you finish eating each other out?” Half of the bar began to laugh at the women when the one who had the beer spilled on her stood and faced Bill. As she turned to look at him Bill could have sworn her eyes turned red before she spoke. “Get. The. FUCK. Away. From us.” She spat as one of the other women grabbed her arm and said Mildred, calm down he’s not worth it" she said as they stood and headed towards the door.

Bill stood in the middle of the barroom floor and watched them approach the exit before saying “thats right biker bitches, head on back to your trailer park and let us” he raised his hands and gestured to the rest of the bar “handle being responsible for paying for the roads you ride all over!”

The one named Mildred turned around and bill could definitely see her eyes flash red this time, and a low rumble could be heard before she spoke “oh so classy are you? A paragon of good citizens are you? Perhaps you all need a lesson in respect…..” suddenly the noise stopped and she curtly turned and exited with the other two women.

Bill stumbled out of his UBER and fumbled with the keys to his front door before trying (unsucessfully) to quietly let him self into his McMansion of a house and quietly slipped under the covers next to his wife Francesca.

Bills dreams were odd that night. He dreamt he was riding a motorcycle, and then he was on the back of the motorcycle and he was holding onto the hips of another man. The vibration from the bike made his cock hard and he couldn’t help but rub his crotch into the seat as he came in his panties. Wait….panties? He looked down at the black corset dress that was whipping up around his hairless thighs as he felt the bike change gears sending him through another orgasm. He could feel the wind whipping at his long red hair and was concerned for only a moment as two massive breasts began to fill the top of the dress and spilling over the top into massive cleavage. A small pothole in the road sent a jolt through his shrinking cock before it disappeared entirely. She gasped as she felt her body plump on the back of the bike, her thighs and ass expanding as she gained weight rapidly before tattoos began to appear on her skin. She was fast approaching orgasm again, reaching the crest of her forth orgasm in as many minutes. As she felt it wash over her….

“BILLIE, wake up damn it! Yer playin with yerself in yer sleep again!”

Billie opened her eyes with a start and hefted her large naked form off of the worn down matress and turned to her husband Frank, or “Tank” as he was known in the club.

“Ah shit Tank! I was almost there!” She said

Tank chuckled as he tweaked her bare nipple “alright sweetcheeks, go get dressed we gots a meeting at the Coven clubhouse and since the Familiar’s hold fealty to em we gots come when they call. I’ll get the bike started.”

Billie got dressed as quick as she could and headed outside looking at the rundown trailer park that she and everyone else in the gang called home. She then waddled over and climbed on behind tank before he zoomed down the road to the Coven clubhouse. It was only a quick 10 minute ride so Billie only orgasmed twice before they pulled in to the drive. Tank dismounted and handed her a rag so she could wipe her juices off the seat when suddenly she felt a slap to her round ass. As she turned she found herself face to face with Mildred the leader of the Coven.

“Hey Billie, ever given any thought about joining the Coven? Its women only” she smiled as she looked Billie up and down noting the cleaning job she was doing on Tanks bike.

(one for @hesfatlikeher )

How had it come to this he wondered, shaking his fat, jiggling ass and heaving tits at the webcam.

Of course, Tom hadn’t started out the evening like this. He’d been a toned, muscular guy who just happened to like big, beautiful women. That night, cruising around, he’d spotted two fatties who just took his breath away, squeezed into tight, revealing outfits, one of them smoking away.

He’d slowed as he passed and the blonde on gestured him over, “want a good time” as he rolled the window.

“How much for both?”

“500, hotel room round the corner.”

They’d ended up there and boy Tom had loved it, seeing their cottage cheese thighs, jiggling flesh and huge bosoms over massive bellies. Yet they’d sucked him hard and then taken times banging his brains out on the bed. Come the time to pay though….

“Sorry, I don’t have that kind of…”

Before he’d had time to finish the smoker grinned: “that’s ok, we know how to punish you” and pulled out a small bag, extracting some powder and blowing it in Tom’s face before he could think. Spluttering, they were gone by the time he could stop coughing. The powder had smelt sweet and sickly but punishment?

Tom shrugged, there’d been no sign of them on his drive home, he assumed they were long gone. He went into his flat but his stomach gurgled. Thinking hunger, he turned to his fridge and a wave of insatiable hunger gripped him. Unable to stop himself, ice cream was pulled from the freezer compartment and chugged through,fizzy drinks went, then biscuits, two cakes and….

Tom sat back, his body back under his control. Then he screamed. It wasn’t the same body. All that food seemed to have gone straight on his belly button also elsewhere. His shirt had busted open, revealing a huge, basketball sized belly with two hefty breasts on top. His hair was longer and…he tried to feel between his legs but his cock was gone, just a slit which started feeling wet. Even as he sat there, his clothes started changing, slithering over him until his fat, feminine body was encased in lacy bedware.

Tom hefted his breasts, stunned. No longer was he a man, he was like those hookers - big, beautiful and a woman.

There was a ping behind him and Tom swivelled his head, double chins bouncing as he did. A laptop had appeared on his coffee table with a webcam clipped on, pointing his way. The screen lit up, a chatroom/video setup indicating people were logging on to view him.

“Shake those tits!”

“Fuk, she huge!”

“Show m3 pussy!”

Without realising Tom was moving, turning to the camera. He struck a sexy pose and started rubbing his body. A counter at the top right sprang to life. Suddenly it went to 10 bucks….20.…30….50…100…and onwards. He saw instructions from the paying punters and soon he was naked, licking his breasts and fingering his pussy.

Hours passed and finally Tom switched off the screen, huffing, covered in chocolate after one request, removing a coke bottle from his pussy after another. But the screen showed $4,000 I’m an account for him…Theresa grinned, she was going to show these boys what a big, beautiful woman could do!