Trashy (A TG Bimbofication Story

Chuck looked at the bar and rubbed his hands together. It was lady’s night and the delusional little potbellied neckbeard thought he had a chance in hell of going home with some hot chick. “I mean, really, these trashy sluts will be over me once I buy them a few drinks,” he thought. Four drinks purchased and a lot of laughing later, the pudgy thirtysomething was being escorted out of the bar for antagonizing the clientele.

Chuck was not going to be denied. Making sure his fedora was firmly in place, he headed down the street to the next bar. A similar fate befell him there. This time, it didn't take more than an hour before he was kicked out.

“You don't know what you're missing!” He yelled at the bar. “I've got money, a great personality, and all those stupid cunts want is some loser that works out that's just going to cheat on them anyway.” He turned to walk down to the next bar when he ran into someone. “Watch where you're going, you stupid bitch,” he said to the woman he'd practically bowled over. He paused and leaned back to try to peak up her dress, hoping that she wasn’t wearing panties.

“Charles Lacroix, is that you?”

Chuck looked up at the man standing next to the woman he'd knocked over. He seemed familiar. “Do I know you?”

“Paul Reynolds,” he replied, helping the lithe woman up. “We used to work at the same auto shop.” He gave Chuck a once-over before turning back to the woman. “Meet me inside, would you, Tiffany. I shouldn't be too long.” Tiffany arched an eyebrow and shook her head before heading inside. “Wow, it’s been years. What happened to you? You used to be fit back at the shop.”

Crossing his arms, Chuck looked away. Paul was in great shape. He was the exact type of guy he kept seeing women talking to in the bars. It bothered him that Paul was still in good shape. “Busted up my knee in college playing football shortly before I quit. I got sidelined. After that, the weight just started packing on. It’s not like I’m a different person.”

Paul shook his head. “Dude, you knocked over my fiancé and didn’t apologize. I caught you looking up her dress. You’re lucky I recognized you or you’d be on the ground eating pavement.” Paul took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m going to say this for your own good: Learn to act right or, one of these days, you’re not going to have a choice. Stop objectifying women. That road will lead you down a path that you can’t begin to fathom.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Chuck replied, rolling his eyes. “Look, it was good catching up. Congratulations on getting a nice piece of ass. Here’s hoping she’s not a gold digger. I’ve got other bars to check out.”

Paul gritted his teeth, anger flaring in his eyes, and clenched his fist. “Her name is Tiffany. She’s a kinder soul than you’ve ever known and a classier woman than you’ll ever get. You should leave. Now.”

“Sure. All women are just trashy gold diggers that want some boy toy to take care of them. You’ll see.”

One of the guys from the bar walked up to Paul. “This loser giving you trouble, Paul?”

“Nah, Charlie was just leaving,” Paul replied, narrowing his eyes at Chuck. “Next time I see you, Charlie boy, I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Yeah, sure Paul,” Chuck replied, backing away, “I’ll see you around.”

The rest of the night didn’t go much better for Chuck and, by the fifth bar, apparently, they’d been called and warned about him. They flat out told him to leave when he showed up. Utterly defeated, Chuck made his way home. When he arrived, there was a microwave-sized package at his door to his tiny one-bedroom apartment. There was no return address. Carrying the surprising light box inside, he started getting undressed and ready for bed. Turning the lights off, his mind kept going back to the box. After being unable to sleep for half an hour, he turned the lights back on and grabbed the box. Opening it, his nose was hit by the scent of flowery perfume. Blinking a bit, he looked inside to see a package of panties, a bra, and a note.

“I saw what happened earlier,” the note read, “and I understand where you are in your life. I hope this makes everything better.” There was no name on the note, but there was a big kiss in hot pink lipstick.

Shaking his head, he looked at the panties curiously. Picking them up, his fingers ran over the Lycra fabric, trying to remember the last time he had a woman’s panties in his hands. He lifted them to his nose and breathed in the scent. There was the smallest hint of something he couldn’t recognize, but it made him instantly hard. Pondering it for a moment, given how hard he was, he slid the panties on. Surprised that the fit comfortably, he turned the lights off and made his way to bed.

When Chuck woke up the next morning, it was to his alarm clock blaring. Slowly stretching, his whole body felt sluggish. "I bet I got a cold from one of the skanks from last night." 

When he went to shower, he was surprised to find himself still wearing panties, and, odder still, how comfortable they felt to wear. Shaking his head, he stripped and stepped into the shower. Soaping himself up, something about the fragrance bothered him. He tried to figure out what it was, but, the moment he started washing his man-boobs, he forgot all about it. As his palms brushed against his nipples and his fingers sank into his skin, he couldn't believe how amazing it felt. Before he could stop himself, he was rubbing his fatty boobs. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it felt this good for a woman. As he tugged his nipples, a moan escaped his lips and his four-inch cocktail spasmed as he came. 

Chuck was shocked for a moment and quickly cleaned himself off, making sure to shampoo and condition his hair. As he dried himself off, he thought his hair looked finer but had more body overall. Reaching into his dresser, he cursed. He was out of clean briefs. He looked around and spotted the box from last night. Smirking, he reluctantly grabbed a pair, this one flesh toned. Pulling them on, he was surprised at how nice they felt. Tugging on a pair of pants, he figured no one would know, so what harm could there be. Pulling his hair into a ponytail, he pulled on his shoes, grabbed his badge and headed to work. 

"There's a new head of HR," Stephen Snyder said to Chuck as he sat down in his cubicle. "Rumor has it that there's been a crackdown on sexual harassment. One of the Ops managers got walked out. Beverly's cracking down hard." 

"And why are telling me?" Chuck asked. "I stopped trying to be nice to the women here. Every time I give them a compliment, they look at me like I have a disease. It's a double standard. Not one of them would complain if I was hot." Chuck paused as a wave of dizziness overtook him. 

"You okay?" Stephen asked. "You're looking a little pale." 

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Taking a deep breath, Chuck stared at his screen, trying to remember what he'd been working on. 

Stephen shrugged. "You do you, man. By the way, you look good as a blonde. It's an edgy look for you. Makes your face look slimmer." Chuck looked up to ask what Stephen was talking about, but he was already walking away. 

By lunch, Chuck's focus had gone to shit. He was getting frustrated by almost every call. It was as if every idiot called in for IT support. If that wasn't enough, he kept struggling with things that he was certain he knew how to do. 

Sitting by himself in the lunch room, he wasn't hungry. Worse still, his breasts were still sensitive. It was such a distraction. He had to focus to keep his hands from playing with his boobs. Taking a deep breath, he was about to stand when Cynthia Mayer, the resident lesbian and General thorn in his side was staring at him curiously. "What? I swear, I am trying to not antagonize you, even if you somehow think I am." 

Cynthia leaned forward. "Not that it would offend me but are you wearing makeup?" 

"Am I wearing what?" He replied. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed if you are," she said with a smug smile. "You did a good job. You definitely have the whole androgynous look going. Of course, your still not my type, but, lose a few pounds, I might have to reconsider." 

For the briefest of moments, Chuck was flattered. While Cynthia was openly homosexual, he'd fantasized about getting his hands on her curvy rear and large, melonous breasts. It was enough to distract him as he couldn't help but stare at her tits. A wave of dizziness overtook him again. When he came to, Cynthia was looking at him with concern. "You spaced out there," she said with a frown. "You can be honest with me. Besides, I can't be the only one who noticed you're wearing women's jeans." 

"I'm wearing what?"

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, he couldn't deny what Cynthia said. His cheeks were dusted with blush and his lips were covered with a subtle red lipstick. His pants and shirt were not the ones he remembered putting on when he left for work that morning. His shirt was now a pink Polo instead of a white button down and his pants had the tiny pockets that were typical of women's jeans.

Stranger still, he looked thinner than this morning. Well, mostly. His breasts were still as large, maybe larger. It was no wonder Cynthia had commented. He did look like a heavy-set woman. Not his fantasy girl, but not someone he'd pass the chance to screw, either. At the thought of sex, he started imagining lesbian sex with Cynthia. 

"Charles Lacroix, please return to your team." 

Chuck snapped out of his thoughts on sex, hearing the PA system. He hurried back to his desk, only to find a note from HR waiting for him. 

"Charles," Beverley began, staring across her desk, "or is Charlotte?" She flipped through the paperwork. "Someone had mentioned you're transitioning, though I have no paperwork about it. That's not why I called you in, though." 

Chuck was slightly distracted by the top button that was undone on Beverley's blouse, showing a hint of cleavage. He began to fantasize about running his tongue down the valley and rubbing his own chest against hers. He could feel his nipples stiffening. His hand reached up to give his breast a squeeze. 

"Mister Lacroix!" 

Chuck looked up at the angry expression on Beverly's face. "Obviously, with that sort of behavior, you have no regrets or defense regarding these claims of sexual harassment. I have no choice but to terminate you, effective immediately." 

"Wait! I can explain!" Chuck cried out. He paused, noting the higher pitch of his voice. It was a long enough delay to allow security to arrive. Chuck grabbed his purse and was escorted out of the building to his car and told to leave the property. As he started to make his way home, he almost broke down in tears. Why was this happening to him? He wasn't some dumb bimbo, thinking about sex all day. He was smart, nice, funny. He wasn't a creep just because he flirted with some of the girls at work. He needed to make things better in his life. He needed... the mall! 

Pulling into the mall, Chuck realized he needed some retail therapy. Grabbing his purse, he stepped out of the car and almost stumbled. Looking down at his feet, Chuck was first shocked by the size of his breasts. They were impossibly perky and the size of softballs. Sitting back down in the car, he looked down at his feet and realized that his dress shoes were now high heels. He wanted to be upset but, somehow, this felt right. He was wearing women's pants, high heels, and had large, fake tits. Maybe he'd been confused earlier when Cynthia talked to him. Was he a transsexual? He couldn't remember. The mean lady in HR had called her Charlotte. The name felt right. 

Making her way to her feet, Charlotte focused on the mall. Shopping. Retail therapy. That was what she needed. Heading inside, she was caught off guard by a guy wolf-whistling at her. Instead of being offended, Charlotte put more swing in her step, her hips swaying as she walked up to the stud. He was tall, dark and strong. In the back of her mind, Charlotte screamed that this was wrong, but her body throbbed as she thought of having this buff stud all to herself. 

"Hey there, daddy," Charlotte giggled. "Did you, like, call my name?" 

"I might have, sugar," the man said with a grin. "What's your name?" 

"Cherry, like the candy," Charlotte replied, popping her lips. "I'm about to go shopping. Do you, like, wanna join me?" 

The man gave her rear a swat, causing her to tits to jiggle. "I'll be here when you're done, Cherry." 

"Like, do you promise?" 

The man laughed. "Cross my heart. You go have fun." 

"Oh, that'll be later, daddy," she replied, leaning against him and whispering in his ear, "when I suck your cock." 

After the third store, Charlotte ran into a problem. Her card got declined. "But, like, I totally have lots of money in my bank and stuff." 

The cashier looked wholly unimpressed. "Look, you either pay or put it back." 

Charlotte looked down at the tie-dye tube top and cut-off boots shorts. "But, like, I have to have them." 

"I've got this," a woman's voice said from behind Charlotte. Charlotte turned and squealed happily. It was Cynthia. "I heard what happened. It's bullshit. Didn't expect to run into you here, though." She handed the clerk her credit card who then rang up the clothes. "Retail therapy?" 

"Retail therapy," Charlotte giggled, nodding as the two walked out of the store. "Like, thanks for being nice to me, Cyn. Wait 'til you meet daddy. But, first, I should totally thank you." She winked at Cynthia as she stepped into the restroom. 

Moving into one of the stalls, she beckoned Cynthia to follow her in. Closing the stall behind them, Cynthia found herself pressed against the wall by a half-naked Charlotte, whose plump lips eagerly sought Cynthia's. She'd suspected Charlie had got implants, but he, or was it she, must've been concealing just how large they were. They were massive: each at last as big as Charlotte's head. The sexy, transsexual minx was ready and eager. Something screamed in Cynthia's mind that part of this was off, but she decided to wait until after she'd had her fun. 

"If you're going to thank me for the clothes," Cynthia said, her voice husky with need, "thank me properly, slut." Lifting her skirt, Cynthia hooked her thumbs on her panties and tugged them down, exposing her clean-shaven pussy. Charlotte didn't think twice. She was, after all, a trashy little slut. What was licking out her best friend's pussy compared to some of the things her dirty mind wanted her to do? She still had to find daddy and give him a blowjob. 

Cherry slid her hand down her pants and moaned when her fingers found a pussy that hadn't been there twenty minutes ago. For that matter, Cherry couldn't remember much beyond losing a job she hated. When Cynthia's hands held Cherry against her crotch, Cherry's tongue went into overdrive, flicking against Cynthia's clit, pushing Cynthia over the edge. Cherry eagerly lapped up her bestie's juices before leaning back and fingering herself to climax. 

Cherry put on the tie-dye top over her massive fake tits. Cynthia watched her through narrowed eyes. Cherry sucked on her lip. "Did I, like, do something wrong?" 

"I think you did, Charlotte, but be quiet and let me think." 

"Like, should I find daddy," she asked. 

Cynthia's lost focus as she rubbed the small pentagram hanging from her neck. As her mind focused, she pieced together what had actually happened. Part of her wanted to laugh. It was perfect. Instead of a curse that might backfire, Charlie had been given exactly what he wanted and had fantasized about: a trashy slut that would enjoy being in a threesome and who he could fuck any time he wanted. He didn't expect he'd be the woman, though. 

Cynthia smiled and patted the trashy little slut's cheek. "Nope, everything is fine. Forget about 'daddy', though. I have a much better idea." 

Two weeks later... 

"And here's your special gift for your bachelor party, Cherry!" 

Paul, Cynthia, and their mutual friends whistled as Cherry, dressed in cut-off Jean shorts and a too small blouse tied underneath her volleyball sized knockers, walked into the room, her broad hips swaying with each sexy step. Before anyone could stop her, she was on her knees, tugging to free her top. "Like, mister, getting this untied is hard. Can you like help me?" 

"Sure thing, Cherry," Paul said with a smile. He carefully untied her top, exposing her massive, fake tits to those present. 

"That was totally nice of you," she said with a giggle. "Like, I should totally thank you." 

"For what?" Paul watched her fish out his cocktail while Cynthia's gaze lingered on Cherry's collar and the tag hanging from it. 

"For everything," Cherry replied before taking Paul's shaft between her lips, her eyes on Cynthia, knowing full well her mistress was enjoying the show. 

"If she only knew," Cynthia whispered in Paul's ear. Paul smiled knowing down at Cherry, knowing the only women that Cherry would ever demean again would be herself. After all, she was the trashy slut she had always wanted.