Jock-suited Girl (Tg) Draft

The night had been full of noise. The campus bar was alive with laughter, loud music, and the type of overconfidence only found in college students who thought the world owed them everything.

Sitting alone in a corner of the bar was a woman who didn’t belong. Her beauty was the kind that made people stop and stare—her presence commanding in a way that words couldn’t describe. She had long, flowing hair that shimmered with an unnatural light, eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone foolish enough to meet her gaze, and a calm, serene expression. She was sipping something from a delicate glass, watching the chaos around her with a faint, knowing smirk.

Enter Brad, the self-proclaimed king of the campus. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, he was used to being the center of attention. Whether it was on the field or off, Brad had a knack for making everything about himself.

And tonight was no exception.

He swaggered past the tables, loudly recounting some exaggerated story about his latest touchdown, ignoring the eye rolls of his peers. When his gaze landed on the mysterious woman in the corner, his smirk widened.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Brad said, loud enough for the entire bar to hear. He strutted up to her table and leaned down, invading her space with that toothy grin of his. “You look a little out of place, babe. Waiting for someone, or do you want me to keep you company?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving slightly as if she were amused. “I’m quite fine on my own.”

Brad laughed. “Come on, don’t be like that. You’re not exactly blending in. What’s with the weird glowy vibe? Halloween’s not for another few months.”

A few people chuckled nervously at Brad’s jab, though most were too uncomfortable to join in. The woman remained unfazed.

“You seem quite sure of yourself,” she said calmly, setting her glass down with a soft clink. “Tell me, are you always this rude, or am I just special?”

Brad grinned wider. “You’re special, all right. Special enough for me to waste my time on.” He straightened up, puffing out his chest as if to emphasize his size. “I mean, look at me. You’re lucky I’m even talking to you.”

The woman’s smirk grew, her eyes narrowing. “You seem to think your size makes you… superior.”

“Of course it does,” Brad said, laughing. “Not everyone gets to look like this. You’re probably just mad you’ll never find someone like me.”

The woman tilted her head. “Oh, I’ve found someone like you before. They’re all the same—loud, boastful, and utterly unaware of their place.”

Brad scoffed. “Whatever. You’re just mad, I’m right.”

Her serene smile didn’t waver. Instead, she reached into her satchel and pulled out an ornate book. The leather cover shimmered like starlight, and strange symbols glowed faintly along its edges.

“Let’s see how confident you are after a little adjustment,” she said, opening the book and flipping to an empty page.

Brad frowned. “What are you doing with that old notebook? Writing me a love letter?”

“No,” she replied, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I’m writing reality.”

Before Brad could reply, she began to write in the book with a pen that glowed like a comet’s tail.

---

You are not a tall man. That is just mecha armor that looks convincingly like a tall man. In reality, you are a short, busty, big-assed girl piloting the mecha armor from within. And you are naturally always wearing your skintight, sexy pilot suit on your real body.

---

The goddess’s pen glided across the glowing page with deliberate precision. As the final word was etched into the shimmering paper, reality rippled. It was subtle at first—a faint vibration in the air—but Brad felt it like a shockwave coursing through his body.

“What the hell—” he began, but his voice cracked sharply, higher and softer than it should’ve been. He clutched his throat, his broad fingers trembling as they touched his Adam’s apple, which seemed to shrink under his hand. A strange, pulling sensation rippled through his body, like he was being compressed and stretched at the same time.

His legs began tingling first, a strange, warm feeling that crawled up his thighs. He staggered as his knees buckled. It wasn’t just his legs growing shorter—his whole frame seemed to shrink. His jeans clung tighter and tighter until the fabric strained against his thighs and hips. He looked down, his heart racing, and watched in horror as his once-muscular thighs softened and expanded, becoming thick and curvy. His hips widened, pushing against the waistband of his jeans with an audible pop as the button burst off and flew across the bar.

“What’s happening to me?!” he shouted, though his voice cracked again—higher now, feminine.

A wave of heat surged up his spine, pooling in his chest. His pectorals swelled rapidly, the muscle giving way to something softer, heavier, and undeniably rounder. His shirt strained against the growth until the fabric groaned, the seams tearing slightly under the pressure. Each breath made his chest rise unnaturally, and the unfamiliar weight pulled his shoulders forward.

“No! No, no, no!” Brad screamed, his voice increasingly alien. His hands shot up to his chest, and the moment his trembling fingers brushed the sensitive, pillowy mounds, he froze. The sensation was overwhelming—foreign, wrong, and undeniably real. “This isn’t… This can’t be…”

The warmth reached his lower back, and he stumbled again as his balance shifted. His butt tingled and tightened before blossoming outward with alarming speed. His jeans ripped audibly along the back, exposing the now absurdly round and firm curve of his new hips and rear. Every shift of his body sent his lower half jiggling slightly, a constant, humiliating reminder of his transformation.

He tried to move, to run, but his arms felt strange—disconnected, like they weren’t entirely his anymore. His hands twitched, and he realized he couldn’t feel the fabric of his clothes anymore. He could feel something else—straps, wires, and cold metal. Panic set in as he touched his arms and legs, the skin there flickering unnaturally. His once-powerful limbs felt hollow, mechanical, as if they weren’t even attached to him.

It dawned on him with a horrifying clarity. This isn’t my body anymore.

His legs and arms, his chest and torso—they were all part of something larger. He felt trapped inside himself, disconnected from the body he had flaunted his whole life. He tried to step forward, but it wasn’t him moving—it was the suit. His legs didn’t respond the way they should have, and the sensation of straps and control panels against his skin became undeniable.

The goddess smiled as she closed her book. “Oh, we’re not done yet,” she said sweetly.

With a snap of her fingers, the mech suit hissed loudly, its seams splitting apart. Bright, blinding light poured from the cracks as the outer layer of Brad’s body peeled away like a shell. The tall, muscular figure of the cocky jock vanished in an instant, leaving behind something entirely different.

Gasps echoed through the bar as the suit fully opened, revealing the true form within: a petite girl barely 1.4 meters tall, her short stature emphasized by her exaggerated proportions. Her chest heaved in a skintight, shiny pilot suit that hugged every curve of her voluptuous body. Her wide hips and round, perky rear were unmistakable, the material of the suit clinging to her in ways that left very little to the imagination.

She stumbled forward, completely exposed under the bright lights of the club. Her face flushed bright red as she realized everyone was staring—eyes glued to her exaggerated figure. Her hands shot up to cover her chest, but there was simply too much to hide. She tried to twist and cover her backside, but every move seemed to draw more attention to her curves.

The silence of the bar shattered as laughter erupted.

“Is that… Brad?!” someone choked out between fits of hysterics.

“She’s tiny!” another yelled. “And look at that suit! What the hell is that thing?”

The girl’s hands trembled as she tried to speak, but her high-pitched, feminine voice only made things worse. “I… I’m not… I’m still me! I swear!” she shouted, but the words sounded pathetic, panicked, and completely unconvincing.

The goddess watched with satisfaction, a smirk playing on her lips. She leaned in slightly, her voice low but cutting. “Consider this a lesson in humility, little one. Maybe next time you’ll think before mocking someone you don’t understand.”

The girl—formerly Brad—sank to her knees, tears welling in her eyes as the laughter of the crowd grew louder. For the first time in his—or rather, her—life, Brad felt utterly powerless, trapped in a body that was no longer her own, and humiliated in front of everyone she had once looked down on.

The goddess paused at the door, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She turned back to the sobbing girl, kneeling in the remnants of her former life. With a flick of her wrist, she reopened her glowing notebook. "Oh, you didn’t think I was done, did you? No, no, I think a few finishing touches are in order."

Brad—now the mortified, curvy pilot—looked up in terror. “Please… just stop! You’ve already ruined me!” she whimpered, her high-pitched, breathy voice only amplifying her humiliation.

The goddess ignored her and began writing again, her pen scratching across the page with deliberate precision.

---

You are an expert at piloting the mecha armor, but without it, you can’t walk properly without making your body jiggle sexily with every step. You are irresistibly attracted to men but too shy to talk to them directly when not in your armor, barely able to stammer out a word. The only way you can speak confidently to men is while piloting your armor. While in the armor, you can perfectly imitate how Brad was before your transformation—cocky, confident, and loud. But outside the armor, you are only capable of acting in cute, girly ways.

---

As the goddess finished writing, another wave of energy rippled through the air, striking the girl like a bolt of lightning. She gasped as the changes took hold, her body trembling uncontrollably.

First, her legs buckled as a strange new rhythm overtook her. When she tried to stand, her wide hips swayed involuntarily, her plush rear bouncing with every small movement. She whimpered as the jiggle radiated through her body, a humiliating reminder of how exaggerated her curves were. Every awkward step she took only made it worse, her body moving in ways that drew all eyes to her. The sound of laughter and whistles from the crowd made her cheeks burn brighter.

Then came the next wave of changes. An alien warmth bubbled up inside her chest, filling her with a deep, instinctual attraction to the broad-shouldered men in the crowd—men who had once been her equals or rivals. The thought of being close to them made her stomach flutter, but the second she glanced at one directly, her heart raced, and her voice caught in her throat.

“H-Hi…” she tried, but the word came out as a barely audible squeak. Her hands flew to her mouth in panic. What the hell is wrong with me?! Why can’t I talk?

One of the men approached her with a curious grin, clearly enjoying her predicament. “Hey, uh, ‘Brad,’ right? Or should I call you something else now?” he teased.

Her entire face turned crimson. She opened her mouth to respond, but all she could manage was a nervous stammer. “I… I-I… uh… um…” Her hands twisted in front of her as she avoided his gaze, her words tumbling into incoherent babbling.

The crowd roared with laughter, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could just disappear.

The goddess chuckled from across the room. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll find your confidence again—when you’re in your armor. You’ll be able to strut around, acting just like your old self. Cocky, arrogant, loud… just like Brad always was.” Her smile widened. “But as soon as you’re out of it, you’ll be… well, this. A cute, shy little thing who can’t even say hello to a man without blushing.”

The girl’s eyes widened in horror as the full implications of the changes hit her. “No! You can’t do this! Please, change me back!” she cried, but the high-pitched, girly tone of her voice only made the crowd laugh harder.

One of the bolder men leaned down, smirking at her. “You’re kind of adorable now, you know that? Maybe we should get to know each other better.”

Her entire body froze. Her lips trembled, and her legs wobbled as her heart pounded. “I-I… uh… um… n-no, I… uh…” she stammered, unable to string a single coherent sentence together. She could barely even look at him.

The goddess let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, little pilot. When you’re back in your armor, you’ll be able to handle any man with that old bravado of yours. But out here?” She snapped her book shut with a flourish. “You’ll just have to embrace the real you.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left the bar, her laughter echoing in the air. The girl could only stand there, trembling and humiliated, surrounded by the jeering crowd. Each awkward step she tried to take away only made her curves jiggle more, drawing even more unwanted attention. 

That's when the idea came. She could just go back into the mecha suit. Sure, it was the weirdest thought she had ever formed in her life, but it was a way to get out of this embarrassing situation. So she ran off towards the bathroom, trying to find some privacy to get back into the mecha suit. 

The girl’s heart raced as she darted into the boys restroom, her new body awkward and clumsy with every step. Her hips swayed involuntarily, and her chest bounced with every movement, making her curse under her breath as she caught the reflections of her exaggerated curves in the mirrors lining the walls. Her cheeks burned as she avoided her own gaze. The laughter and whistles from the bar still echoed in her mind, but now she had a plan.

“I just need to get back into the suit,” she whispered to herself, gripping the edges of the mecha armor where it stood in the corner, powered down but still imposing. “Then I’ll be… normal again. Or at least close enough.”

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching. The bathroom was empty. Her hands trembled as she pressed the release mechanism, and with a low hiss, the suit opened up. Stepping inside, she felt the familiar straps and controls mold to her body. For a brief moment, the sense of power and control returned, a stark contrast to the vulnerability she felt just moments ago.

The armor closed around her, and she exhaled, her confidence growing as the transformation completed. The suit’s systems hummed to life, and she straightened, the tall, imposing figure of “Brad” once again standing in the empty bathroom. The deep, commanding voice of her old self echoed in her head, and for the first time since the goddess had rewritten her reality, she felt like herself again.

But just as she was about to step out of the bathroom, reality shifted once more.

Choose your ending:
Good Ending || Bad Ending