Huge short stories - 8

New reality

Daniella blinked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to process what she saw. Yesterday, she was Darren—a petty thief with a knack for breaking into places and a reputation for doing anything for a quick buck. But now, staring back at her was a blonde bombshell with wide eyes, a pouty mouth, and curves that could stop traffic. Her top, stretched tight across her ample chest, screamed "Dead Inside," but she felt anything but dead—more like trapped in a nightmare.

“Oh my God, like, what is even happening?!” Her voice came out high-pitched, a bimbo-ish drawl she couldn’t control. It grated on her nerves, but the more she tried to talk normally, the more exaggerated it became. “I, like, totally sound like a dumb blonde!” she whined, her large breasts bouncing slightly as she stomped her foot in frustration.

She should have been getting ready for her new job—something about answering phones and looking pretty at some office. Instead, she was frozen in place, horrified by the way her tits jiggled with every movement. Her new thoughts were even worse, filled with images of cute guys and the idea that she wanted them to notice her.

“Ew, gross!” she spat, shaking her head as if she could dislodge the thoughts. But they stayed, creeping into her mind like an unwelcome guest. “I don’t, like, wanna be into guys! This is, like, totally wrong!”

Panicking, Daniella grabbed her phone and dialed the only person she could think of—Tommy, her old partner-in-crime.

“Hello?” Tommy's voice was gruff, suspicious.

“Tommy, like, it’s me! Darren! I mean, um, Daniella now!” she squealed, cringing as the words tumbled out in that same annoying voice. “I, like, totally need your help, babe! I woke up and I’m, like, this hot blonde chick, and I, like, can’t stop talking like this!”

“Darren? Is this some kind of joke?” Tommy's voice was filled with disbelief.

“No! Like, I'm serious! I don’t know what happened, but I’m, like, totally stuck like this! And I have to, like, go to this stupid job as a receptionist or something, and I don’t know how to do, like, any of that stuff!” She could feel the tears welling up, her emotions are getting out of control.

Tommy was silent on the other end, and for a moment, Daniella thought the call had dropped. But then he spoke calmly, with an ironic tinge in his voice, “Okay, babe, if you're really Darren, why don't you send me a little proof? You know... something that shows off those new assets of yours. How about a few nudes?" For a moment, Daniella hesitated, but then she realized that it was all nonsense. Surely, Tommy wouldn't ask her to do this unless he needed proof, right? She was desperate, panicked, and not thinking straight. Without another thought, she quickly took a few selfies—pouting her lips and lifting her T-shirt up, exposing her large, perky breasts. “There, like, I sent them!” she said, her voice trembling with anxiety. “Now, like, do you believe me?”

There was a pause as Tommy received the images. Daniella heard him chuckle, a low, lecherous sound that sent a chill down her spine.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding about being a hot blonde,” Tommy finally said, his voice dripping with vulgarity. “Damn, Daniella, you really did it up right. I'd like to see more of that. Maybe you could come over, and we can see just how real this transformation is, huh?”

Daniella's heart sank, her stomach twisting with a sick realization. He didn't believe her. He never had. He was just messing with “Tommy... how could you...?” she whispered, the bimbo voice now tinged with hurt and disbelief. But deep down, she knew the truth—Darren would have done the same thing.

“Come on, Daniella,” Tommy said, his voice taunting. “Why don’t you send a few more? Maybe something a little... lower?”

“Go to hell, Tommy!” she screamed, throwing the phone across the room, her body shaking with rage. She realized that she didn’t understand anything anymore and crawled under the blanket, hiding from the inevitable reality.

...

Big bet

'Oh shit, shit, shit!' Mike nervously scrolled through the pictures on his unfamiliar phone, his newly manicured fingers trembling as he tried to find one where he wasn't in some vulgar pose. But every single photo showed his new body—plump lips pouting, hands caressing his large chest, or s****g seductively on his own fingers.

"Fuck! I just took this photo!" Mike whined, his voice high-pitched and nasal, a far cry from the deep tone he once had. He was supposed to take a simple selfie, but every time he tried, his body automatically struck some provocative pose. Panic surged through him as he realized how out of control he was.

"Ma'am, excuse me, but this is a public place" a male policeman's voice suddenly said, making Mike shudder and look at the approaching person. 'Fuck! I need to take a selfie right here, otherwise... god, why is he so handsome' Mike's thoughts suddenly changed and he bit his lip as he looked at the policeman. His hand automatically reached for his large chest and began to slowly massage it. He had to take a selfie right now to prove something—what, he couldn't even remember—but suddenly, all he could think about was how handsome the cop looked.

"Ma'am... what are you..." the officer began, his voice trailing off as he stared at her.

"I'm sorry, officer," Mike purred, surprised at how natural the words felt. His fingers lightly traced the officer's chest, feeling the power shift in the air. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees, feeling a mix of shame and a twisted excitement. His hands fumbled with the officer's belt, his lips curving into a smile that both horrified and thrilled him.

"Please, officer," he whispered, eyes wide with faux innocence, "let me make it up to you..." He glanced up, batting long lashes, lips curled into a seductive smile.

A week ago, he’d lost a bet with some old wizard he thought was just a crazy old man. The bet had seemed simple: win, and he'd get anything he wanted; lose, and... well, Mike hadn't really listened to the part about losing. He never expected to lose. But now, Mike had lost—completely, utterly lost. The wizard’s curse had worked perfectly, trapping him in a body designed to humiliate him at every turn. And now, there was no escape.

...

Lust for power

Looking in the mirror and feeling the weight of the strange new acquisitions in the chest area, which swayed awkwardly with every breath, Jenny—or rather, Jonathan, who was now trapped in this bewildering form—could hardly believe what had just happened. The heavy, foreign orbs jiggled with every tiny movement, making it impossible to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of their presence. Each breath caused a small ripple of motion, sending shivers of unfamiliarity through the body that used to be his.

The wish had seemed simple: power and influence. The amulet had granted Jonathan's wish, but not in the way he had expected. Instead of the influence and control he had craved as a powerful lawyer, he now received another power, which is built on allure and beauty.

Taking a step back and almost falling because of the high-heeled shoes suddenly put on his small feet, Jenny gasped, but managed to stand with difficulty, leaning against the nearest wall. Her heavy, unfamiliar breasts jiggled awkwardly, reminding her of reality again. "No, no, no, I want to... I want to be, like, myself!" her high-pitched voice said, echoing off the walls of this luxurious bathroom in which she found herself after her wish. But nothing happened, only more and more harsh reality showed who was in charge here.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. A man entered, his gaze lingering on her curves and it seemed that he was accustomed to seeing her n**d. “Jenny, you're needed downstairs. Don't keep them waiting.”

Jenny swallowed hard as the new knowledge of her new job as an escort was now part of her memories and knowledge, as if the knowledge had always been there were. She slowly reached for the dress that was hanging nearby, but stopped herself when she realized what she was doing, covering her soft breasts, which only amused the man. "Okay, fine, our modest girl, get dressed yourself," he chuckled, leaving and closing the door behind him, while Jenny silently looked at her reflection.

...

How did this happen, Stacey?

“Hey, idiot! It’s me! Yes, it’s me, Steven fucking Brenks! I don’t know how this happened, but for some reason I look like this right now… damn, these fucking boobs are so annoying,” she grumbled, adjusting her chest during the video chat. Her friend Matt stared at the screen, wide-eyed, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, sure, Steven. And I’m Santa Claus. Nice try at the prank, but I’m not falling for it,” Matt replied, leaning back in his chair with an amused grin.

“This is not a joke, dumbass!” Steven snapped, her voice shrill and childishly girlish, much to her disappointment. “I downloaded some stupid app on my phone, ‘Dream Woman Creator’ or something, just to see what it was. Next thing I know, I'm looking at this reflection in the mirror!" She gestured to her luscious body, her hands subconsciously tracing the curves she now despised, her breasts swaying again with the movement. "Now I'm stuck like this, and I can't change back!"

Matt couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. "Damn, man - er, girl - whatever, that's rich. You expect me to believe that an app turned you into some kind of... I don't know, sex doll version of yourself? Steven is a fucking womanizer who never..."

"I'm telling you, it's me!" she snapped, wanting to sound menacing, but her new, higher, seductive voice couldn't do it.

"Sure, sure, whatever you say, princess. What was it called? Some kind of magical app that turned you into the girl of your dreams?" Matt couldn't stop laughing, but he still stared at the girl's huge tits and the way she jiggled and touched his cock off camera. "What, did you want to be a slut or something?"

"I didn't want anything like that!" she took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "I can't change back even after I reinstalled the app, and now... now I can't stop thinking about..." She cut herself off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Matt raised an eyebrow, catching the slip. "Thinking about what, Stevie? Go ahead, spit it out. You've got my attention now."

Steven hesitated, her gaze darting away from the camera. "I... I keep having these thoughts, urges. Like... wanting to... do things. With guys," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The confession made her feel even more humiliated, a shiver running down her spine as unwanted desires continued to gnaw at her. She shifted uncomfortably, her new body betraying her as her nipples hardened beneath the fabric of her top, causing her to shudder in unwanted pleasure.

Matt chuckled darkly, leaning closer to the screen. “Oh, this is getting good. So what’s stopping you? I mean, you look the part, right?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the discomfort it was causing her.

“Shut up! This isn’t funny!” she screamed, feeling a sickening embarrassment twist in her stomach. “I’ve been trying to fight it, but it’s getting harder. Every time I move, I feel... arousal. And it’s not just physical. It’s like my thoughts are changing too. I keep finding myself thinking about... things I never would have thought of before.” "Well, well, well," Matt said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You're becoming quite the little slut, aren't you?"

"Fuck you, Matt!" Steven hissed, but her anger was mixed with something else she didn't want to admit. Her breathing was quickening now, her body reacting to the very idea Matt was planting in her mind. "Hey, I'm just calling it like it is. Let's say you were Steven, which you probably weren't, but you're definitely not Steven anymore. You're, I don't know, Stephanie? No, that's too cute. Maybe... Stacy? Yeah, Stacy. That's a good slut name for you."

She blushed, unable to resist, her body responding in a way that she liked being spoken to like that, being called a slut. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath, feeling her resolve crumble. "It's not me. I'm not... I'm not a slut." But Matt just laughed again, cruelly and relishing her misery. "Oh, come on, don't be such a prude! You look like you'd jump the first guy you see."

"No, I... I wouldn't," she muttered, but the words felt like a lie, even as she said them, she could feel her voice wavering. Her hand moved along her short-skirted ass, and, unable to keep it together, she bit her plump lip, letting out a soft moan and imagining herself being fucked like a cheap slut by the first guy she met. "I need to get out of here," she said, more to herself than to Matt.

"Where are you going, Stacy?" Matt taunted, his voice following her as she headed for the door. "Going to find yourself a nice cock to suck? Or maybe you'll just spread your legs for the first guy you see?"

“Shut up, Jake,” she whispered, but the words had no effect and she turned off the phone. Stacey shook her head, feeling the soft strands of her now long hair brush against her shoulders, remembering the last thing she had seen on her phone screen after her transformation. The message “Enjoy your new life” and that was it.

But when she stepped outside, the unfamiliar sway of her hips and the way the men’s eyes followed her every move made her shudder. And no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the itch grew stronger, whispering thoughts she didn’t want to hear.

She noticed a man walking toward her, his gaze glued to her body in a way that made her skin crawl. But instead of the disgust she had expected, there was something else – excitement, a twisted arousal that both terrified and excited her.

"Hello, baby," the man greeted roughly, not even bothering with manners, confident that this girl would not refuse.

Instead of brushing him off, she found herself smiling back, a real, genuine smile that made her stomach churn with disgust. "Hello," she said quietly, her voice dripping with a sweetness she didn't recognize.

And then, without thinking, without even realizing what she was doing, she reached out and touched his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. The man raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and she felt a surge of power, something dark and primal that she had never known before.

"What's a sweet creature like you doing all alone?" the man asked, leaning closer.

"I... I'm just... looking for a little fun," she heard herself say, the words escaping before she could stop them.

The man smirked, his eyes slid over her body. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Before she knew it, he was pulling her against him, his hand sliding down to squeeze her ass. Stacey gasped, her body reacting instantly, pressing against him, wanting more. And then, without thinking, she kissed him, her hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt, feeling the hardness beneath it.

Deep down, Stephen screamed in protest, but Stacey silenced him with a moan of pleasure. She wasn’t Stephen anymore. She was Stacey, and Stacey was exactly what Matt had said.

A slut.