FemmeForgie
patreon
Buddy to Slut (TG Story) - Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-09-18 22:06:33 +0000 UTCBuddy to Slut (TG Story)
By FemmeForge
Eric thought his brilliant but unhinged buddy Dexter was working on some harmless experiment to “make him a real man.” Bigger cock, taller frame, unstoppable sex drive — what loser wouldn’t want that? But when Dexter lures him into the chamber for Project Venus, Eric’s world collapses. The gas doesn’t make him stronger — it melts, twists, and reshapes him into Eva: a dripping, cock-hungry bombshell with massive tits, thick thighs, and a pussy built to be bred.
What begins as betrayal spirals into depravity as Dexter gloats, taunts, and finally claims his newly transformed friend. Cum, moans, and humiliation blur together in the lab as Eric dies and Eva is born — a slutty masterpiece who craves exactly what she was turned into.
A day neither of them will ever forget: when best friends became creator and cockslut.
Link for the PDF File: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Mzhhj1GQI3foLhsQSQGrGdPUe-F7rtXs/view?usp=drive_link
Chapter 3
Eric sobbed, his swollen lips trembling as he pawed helplessly at the obscene mounds hanging off his chest. His fingers sank deep into the heavy flesh, tits bouncing in his grip, but no matter how he tried to hold them down they spilled and wobbled out of control.
“Dexter—p-please, look at me!” he cried, voice sharp and broken, cracking high. “They’re too biiiiiggggg! Ohhhh fuuuuck, what’s h-happened to meeeee?” His words dissolved into whimpering moans as his tits jiggled with every sob.
From outside the glass, Dexter’s voice cut in, low and steady. “I just made you better, Eric. Better than you ever were. You’ll be so much more as a woman than you ever were as a man.”
Eric’s tear-streaked face slammed against the glass, eyes wild, fat lips mouthing desperate pleas. “N-noooo, please—don’t say that—ahhhhhhhnnnnnnn~!”
Dexter’s hand hovered over the final switch, his tone cold but almost gentle. “There’s just one step left… the final step to take away your manhood.”
Eric’s breath hitched, his tits wobbling violently as his body tensed. “Wh-what… what do you me—NNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
The pain hit him like lightning. A sharp, brutal CRACK deep in his groin, tearing a scream from his throat so shrill it rattled the glass.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NNnnnnnnghhhhhhhhh! FFFFuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk! S-s-stopppppppppppppp~!”
His hands shot down, clutching himself, as the fire spread from his testicles up through his shaft. The agony was blinding, forcing guttural grunts from his chest.
“NNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! OHhhhhhhhhh Godddddddddddd~!”
He howled, pressing his forehead to the glass. “Dexterrrrrrr! P-please—don’t take it—don’t take my diiiiickkkkkk! I d-don’t want a pussyyyyyyy~!” His cries warped into shrill sobs, desperate and filthy, his swollen lips dragging every plea into something sultry.
Dexter’s voice crackled back, calm and merciless. “I’m sorry, Eric. It’s already too late.”
Eric shrieked, pounding his fists against the glass as the pain tore through him, every scream higher, every grunt sharper, his voice betraying him even as his manhood melted away.
Eric doubled over, hands jammed between his thighs, clutching himself with white-knuckled desperation. His sobs broke into ragged shrieks, the sound ricocheting off the chamber walls and bouncing back at him in warped, feminine echoes.
“NNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! DEXTER, STOOOOOPPPP! DON’T TAKE IT AWAYYYYYY~!” His voice cracked so high it barely sounded human anymore, shrill moans tangled with guttural grunts that left his throat raw.
And then, cruelly, his body betrayed him. In the middle of the pain, his cock stiffened violently, straining hard against the already tortured waistband of his boxers.
“NNnnnnnnghhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhh fffuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk~!” he howled, clutching harder, but the more he grabbed at himself the stiffer it throbbed, twitching obscenely inside the damp fabric.
The mist swallowed his screams, muffling his voice until Dexter could only watch the silhouette on the fogged glass. And what a silhouette it was — hips flaring, tits hanging heavy, and now the unmistakable bulge of his stiffened cock straining upward, twitching against the damp cotton like it was trying to burst free one last time.
Eric slammed his forehead against the glass, teeth bared, eyes streaming with tears. “D-don’t let it end like thissssss! Nnnnnoooooo, I need it! I n-need my dickkkkkkkkkkk!” His cries blurred into sobbing moans, high-pitched and filthy, each one syncing with the obscene jerk of his cock inside the boxers.
From outside, Dexter leaned close, lips curling as he watched the misty shadow twitch and writhe. He couldn’t hear every word through the hiss, but he didn’t need to. The silhouette said it all: Eric’s cock standing stiff in its final moments, framed by the body of a woman already.
Eric’s screams broke into jagged sobs as his cock pulsed harder, straining against his ruined boxers. The outline in the fog was obscene: a stiff rod jutting forward from the body of a woman, twitching with every panicked cry. He clutched at himself desperately, as if holding it could save it.
Then the pain changed. It sharpened, deep and cruel, burrowing into his balls.
“NNNNNNGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The shriek ripped raw from his throat as his testicles clenched violently, swelling, then began to melt. The flesh sagged under his hands, softening like wax in heat, before sucking upward, retreating into his groin with wet, sickening shlrrrp sounds.
Eric’s eyes went wide, tears flooding down his cheeks as his swollen lips parted in disbelief. “Nnnnnnoooooooo! Nnnnnnnot my baaaaallllllsssss! Ohhhh ffffuuuuuuuuckkkkkkk!” His cry cracked high into a slutty wail as the sac vanished, leaving only a tight, smooth plane of skin between his thighs.
Then his cock betrayed him. The stiff shaft jerked once, twice, twitching against the soaked fabric — and then it began to shrink. The veins flattened, the head deflating, the length shriveling as though being sucked back into his body.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NNnnnnnnghhhhhhnnnnnnn! Wh-what’s—what’s happeninggggggggg~!” His screams broke into breathy, slutty moans, his voice nothing but a woman’s wail now.
Eric’s cock twitched violently one last time, standing stiff and obscene against the tortured fabric of his boxers. Then it betrayed him. The hardness softened in jerks, the head deflating like a balloon with a slow hiss, the shaft quivering as it began to cave in on itself.
“NNNNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!” His scream ripped through the mist, high and cracked, as he clutched desperately at the length, fingers wrapping around it like he could hold it in place. But every time he grabbed, it slipped smaller in his fist, shortening, retracting, sucking back into his body with grotesque, wet schlkkk… schlrrrppp… schlkkkk sounds.
His hand slid lower without meaning to, clutching at where the root of his cock used to be — and that’s when the true horror began. His groin folded, the skin puckering and tearing open, a raw slit dragging itself into being between his thighs.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! N-nnnnnnnnnnoooooo, ohhhhh ffffuuuuuuckkkkkk! Not there, NOT THEREEEEEEEE~!” His sobs broke into slutty, breathy cries as the last of his shaft inverted, collapsing inward with a wet plop, leaving nothing but a trembling seam in its place.
The line deepened, lips forming, glistening with obscene wetness. A pussy — swollen, dripping, pulsing open where his cock had been. Eric shrieked, clawing at his thighs, spreading them wide in panic, as if exposing it would make it vanish.
But the truth stared back at him in the fogged reflection: no bulge, no manhood, just a hot, dripping slit framed by thick thighs, carved into his body like it had always been there. His hands trembled as they hovered near it, fingers twitching, terrified to touch, terrified of how real it looked.
He sobbed into the mist, voice sharp and slutty, every scream warping into a moan. “Nnnnnnnnnoooooo! I-I don’t want a pussyyyyyy! I want my dickkkkkkkk! Ohhhhhh Goddddddd, it’s gonnnnneeeeee!”
But it wasn’t gone. It had been remade. His cock and balls were erased, inverted into a dripping cunt that winked wetly as his hips bucked against the pain.
Eric convulsed, hips thrusting forward as if to reject it, but the movement only made it clearer: a wet, obscene pussy opening where his cock had been just moments before.
He clawed at his thighs, shrieking, voice sharp and shrill. “Nooooooo! D-don’t g-give me a pussyyyyyyy! I d-don’t want it, I don’t—ahhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhh!” His cries dissolved into a guttural moan as the transformation sealed, leaving him sobbing with a dripping, twitching slit between his thighs.
Through the fogged glass, the silhouette was undeniable. Wide hips. Fat ass. Heavy tits. And no cock. Just the unmistakable curve of a woman, pussy and all, sobbing and moaning in disbelief.
Eric staggered forward, tits heaving, sweat dripping down his smooth midriff, as the last cruel detail sealed itself. His ruined boxers clung tighter than ever, the thick fabric stretched so thin it looked like lace. They didn’t hide anything anymore — they framed it. His brand-new pussy pressed against the damp cloth, lips outlined sharp, the cleft riding high and shameless with every twitch of his hips.
He clawed at himself, whimpering, but there was nothing to grab. No bulge, no shaft, no balls. Just the obscene outline of his slit, the fabric molding to every swollen curve until it looked like he was already wearing a pair of lacy panties made to show it off.
His silhouette in the fog told the truth he couldn’t deny: wide hips, fat ass, heavy tits, and now a pussy that gaped visibly through his soaked underwear. Eric had been erased. In his place knelt a full, hot woman — dripping, trembling, obscene.
The realization broke him. His head snapped back, swollen lips parting wide, and a scream ripped out of his throat — not a man’s scream, not even a protest. It was a howl.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!”
The chamber vibrated with it, the glass fogging and shaking, the sound raw and deafening. It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t begging. It was a howl torn straight from the core of his body — powerful, primal, feminine.
He collapsed to his knees again, tits bouncing, pussy outlined and twitching against the ruined panties, breath shuddering after the scream that had emptied him. The howl hung in the air even as he sobbed, his body shivering in its new, permanent shape.
Eric was gone. In his place, a woman knelt in the fog, her last act as a man a howl that declared her final undoing.
The mist churned thick, wrapping the chamber in white, swallowing every detail. Eric’s sobs had dwindled into broken whimpers, muffled by the hiss. Then even that sound died away.
What remained was the outline. A shadow pressed against the glass — wide hips cocked, fat ass jutting, tits heavy and bouncing as she panted, her ruined panties clinging like lace to the swollen cleft between her thighs.
It wasn’t Eric anymore. It couldn’t be. It was the sexiest, hottest outline Dexter had ever seen in his life — a woman’s body sculpted by his own hands, curves exaggerated, obscene, perfect.
Dexter’s breath caught, then broke into a jagged laugh. He pressed both gloved hands to the glass, staring at the silhouette like it was holy.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The sound was manic, echoing through the lab. He threw his head back, goggles glinting, teeth bared in a feral grin. “I DID IT! Oh, FUCK, I actually did it!”
He slammed a fist against the glass, watching the silhouette wobble, the outline of those tits bouncing, those hips swaying. “I turned my pathetic buddy into the hottest fucking woman alive!” His laughter cracked into another howl, gleeful, depraved. “From a broke loser to a dripping slut — and it was ME who made it happen!”
The chamber hissed softly, the fog curling around the pornographic outline of the woman kneeling inside. Dexter’s laughter rattled on, manic and triumphant, as if the very sound was sealing the fact that Eric was gone — erased, rewritten into the sex doll of Dexter’s fantasies.
The chamber was nothing but a cloud of steam and hiss, but the mist betrayed her. The silhouette plastered against the glass was a wet dream come to life.
Her spine arched like she was begging for it, tits so heavy they hung and wobbled with every ragged breath. Each nipple stood out like a swollen bullet, poking sharp through the haze. Her hips flared wide, obscene, swaying even when she tried to stay still. And that fat ass — God, it jutted out in a shameless curve, the cheeks bouncing in slow aftershocks every time she twitched.
But the killer was lower. The ruined boxers clung like see-through lace, the fabric molded tight to the dripping slit between her thighs. The cleft was stamped so hard into the outline it looked carved, a pussy screaming to be noticed, lips fat and bold against the glass.
Dexter dragged his glove down the misty surface, tracing the curve of her hip to the swell of her tits, groaning low in his throat. “Fuck, just look at you,” he muttered, breath fogging the glass. “You’re a walking porno silhouette. Tits, ass, pussy — it’s all there. Eric’s gone, and all that’s left is this hot, desperate bitch I built with my own two hands.”
He cackled, sharp and manic, goggles gleaming as he pressed closer. “You hear me in there? You’re perfect. You’re built to bounce. Built to moan. Built to get bent over and fucked ‘til that fat ass claps against you. And it was me who did it to you.”
He slapped the glass hard, the chamber rattling, the fog shifting just enough for the tits inside to wobble, nipples shifting visibly. The shadow of her ass rippled from the impact, making him wheeze out another filthy laugh.
Dexter leaned his forehead to the glass, lips peeling into a snarl of glee. “Eric’s dead. All that’s left is my Venus — a fat-titted, wet-cunted masterpiece. And she’s mine.”
The hiss of the chamber filled the silence, the shadow swaying faintly, every obscene bounce of tits and ass feeding Dexter’s manic triumph. He didn’t even need to open it yet. The silhouette alone was enough to prove his victory.
Dexter’s laughter slowed to a wheeze, his hand trembling over the master control. He stared at the fogged silhouette one last time, eyes wide behind his goggles, savoring every bounce and sway. Then, with a sharp twist, he flipped the switch.
The machine gave a final hiss, the sound tapering into silence. The fog inside the chamber began to thin, curling in ghostly tendrils before dissipating altogether. Inch by inch, the silhouette sharpened, the mist peeling back to show skin.
Dexter’s grin split wider, manic and hungry, as the truth revealed itself.
There she was. Not Eric. Not anymore. A full woman — obscene, dripping, pornographic perfection.
Her tits hung massive and heavy off her chest, straining what little fabric remained of her shirt, the hem rolled up high so her underboob gleamed slick with sweat. Her nipples were swollen, stiff, pressing through the ruined cotton like fat thumb-sized buds begging to be sucked. Cleavage gaped deep and shameless, framed by damp strands of hair plastered to her glowing skin.
Her waist pinched tight, hips flared wide, thighs thick and gleaming. And below, the boxers had been annihilated — stretched so thin they clung like lace, every inch of her new pussy outlined sharp. The lips pressed against the damp fabric in a hungry cleft, fat and dripping, nothing left to hide. It looked obscene, pornographic, a permanent invitation.
Her fat ass jutted shamelessly behind her, cheeks wobbling with each ragged breath, the damp fabric swallowed into the crack like a thong. The sight alone made Dexter bark out a manic laugh, pounding the glass.
The chamber door unlatched with a heavy clunk. The hiss of escaping steam filled the lab as it swung open.
Eric stumbled forward — no, she stumbled forward — on trembling legs, tits bouncing lewdly with every step, nipples glistening through the ruined shirt. Her face was smooth, lips swollen into a pout, eyes wide and wet, lashes heavy with tears. She looked like a pornstar mid-climax, body dripping, broken, perfect.
Dexter spread his arms wide, laughing until his throat cracked. “YES! HAHAHAHAHAHA! LOOK AT YOU! I FUCKING DID IT!”
The lab shook with his howl, goggles flashing as he stared at his creation. “ERIC IS DEAD! AND IN HIS PLACE—” He stepped forward, voice breaking with filthy glee. “—IS THE HOTTEST, SLUTTIEST BITCH I’VE EVER SEEN!”
She collapsed to her knees before him, tits slapping together from the motion, pussy outlined and wet against her ruined panties. Her sobs were soft, breathy, girlish — but every sound that left her lips was pure porn, sultry and begging even through tears.
Dexter threw his head back, cackling. His masterpiece was complete.
She panted there on her knees, chest heaving, sweat dripping from every curve. Then, trembling, she tried to stand. Her dainty hands pressed against the floor, arms too slim and weak to carry her new weight. When she finally managed to rise, her tits bounced violently, swinging like obscene pendulums as she clutched at them with both hands in desperation.
Dexter’s gaze roved, greedy and manic, drinking her in piece by piece.
Her Face was smooth and wet, cheeks flushed pink, tears streaking down skin so soft it glowed under the lab’s sterile lights. Her lips were swollen, pouty, glistening with spit — cocksucker’s lips, trembling as she gasped for air. Her eyes were wide, lashes thick and damp, the bedroom eyes of a pornstar caught mid-climax, even as they begged in terror.
Her Tits were monumental, obscene, heavy mounds straining against a shirt reduced to a ruined crop-top. The fabric rode high, clinging to their upper swell, leaving massive arcs of underboob swinging free. Each nipple was a swollen, stiff nub, poking through so hard the cotton molded like shrink wrap around them. She tried to lift them with her delicate arms, palms pressing underneath, but they just spilled over, too heavy, too soft, wobbling lewdly with every whimper.
Her Midriff was smooth, tight, utterly feminine — a sexy band of glistening flesh left bare by the rolled shirt. Her navel peeked out, small and dainty, the hollow glistening with sweat. The curve from her underboob down to her hips was obscene, an hourglass in living flesh, her belly twitching with every ragged breath.
The boxers clung like transparent lace now, fabric so thin it outlined every swollen detail. The lips of her pussy pressed fat and heavy against the cloth, the cleft so deep and sharp it looked carved by a knife. Dampness spread across the front, leaving the seam darker, wetter, pulsing as if the fabric itself was begging to tear. It wasn’t a suggestion — it was an announcement, stamped between her thighs for Dexter to stare at.
When she shifted, turning slightly to keep balance, her ass jutted back in full glory. Two thick, wobbling cheeks, sweat-slick and round, swallowing the last tatters of the waistband until the boxers sat like a thong. Every tremor of her thighs made the cheeks jiggle shamelessly, rippling like a call to be grabbed, slapped, owned.
Dexter let out a ragged laugh, his breath fogging his goggles. “Jesus Christ…” he rasped, tracing her body in the air with his gloved finger. “Every… fucking… inch. A loser turned into THIS.”
Inside the chamber’s threshold, she groaned, tits wobbling in her hands, dainty arms shaking as she tried to hold their impossible weight. Her swollen lips parted, a pant spilling out, sultry and wet even through her sobbing.
She looked like sin incarnate — and Dexter’s masterpiece was standing there, trembling, unable to hide a single filthy curve.
She staggered another step out of the chamber, bare feet slapping the floor, her dainty arms trembling under the obscene weight of her tits. They bounced lewdly, slipping from her grip no matter how hard she tried to hold them, nipples swollen and stiff under the ruined shirt.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, lips wet and trembling as the words finally broke through between moans.
“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnn… ffffuckkkk… D-Dexterrrr… wh-what the ffffuckkkkkk did you do to meeeee~?” Her voice cracked high, sultry, dripping with femininity even as it wavered with rage.
She stumbled forward another step, thighs brushing thickly together, her pussy stamped shamelessly against the damp cloth of her shredded boxers. The outline flexed and twitched with every word, mocking her as much as her voice did.
Her eyes, wide and tear-soaked, fixed on him, lashes sticking together in wet clumps. “L-look at meeee~!” she shrieked, hands pawing helplessly at her bouncing chest. “Wh-what the ffffffuuuuckkkkk have you done?!”
She sobbed through her pouty lips, shaking her head violently, damp strands of hair whipping her cheeks. “I-I’m… I’m not a guy anymore! I’m—nnnnnghhhhnnnnn~—I’m a… a fffucking chick! A hot, dripping chick! My dick—my dick is gonnnnneeeeee!”
Her voice broke into a moan, her back arching, tits wobbling violently as her arms failed to hold them.
She clenched her fists, glaring through blurred eyes, every sob betraying her with filthy, feminine music. “Wh-what the hell have I become, Dexterrrr?!” she howled, the question dragging into another long, desperate moan that made her sound less like a victim and more like a pornstar crying through climax.
She staggered in place, her dainty hands sliding uselessly over the obscene curves she couldn’t hide. Her tits bounced heavy and uncontrolled, slapping together with every ragged breath, nipples stabbing like swollen spears through the sweat-soaked cloth.
“Answer meeeeee, Dexterrrr!” she wailed, her voice breaking, high and slutty even through the rage. Her swollen lips quivered, spit shining on her chin as she cried. “Wh-what the fuckkkkkk am I nowwww?!”
Her hands clawed at her chest again, squeezing her tits like she could mash them back into pecs. The flesh only spilled between her fingers, wobbling and slapping against her ribs, the nipples harder than ever. She sobbed harder, her forehead damp with sweat, damp strands of hair sticking to her cheeks.
“Y-you turned me into thisssss!” she screamed, her dainty fists pounding her thighs, her wide hips swaying uncontrollably with each sob. “Look at meeee! My ass—my hips—my pussy—ohhhh fuuuuckkkkkk, I’ve got a pussyyyyyy~!”
She spread her thighs just enough to paw at the outline stamped against her ruined boxers, her voice cracking into a shrill, slutty whine. “I c-can feel it, Dexter! I can feel the slit! It’s realllllll! Nnnnnnghhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhh Godddddddd!”
Her cries blurred into moans, hands sliding back up her midriff, over the bare, glistening skin, to clutch her tits again. She tried lifting them, tried holding them up, but her slim arms buckled under the obscene weight, leaving her tits to bounce free, heavy and pornographic.
Her eyes, wide and wild, locked on him again. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but every sound spilling from her lips betrayed her. “Wh-what did you do to meeeee~?!” she sobbed, breaking into another guttural moan, her whole body shivering as if every sob deepened her femininity.
There she stood — trembling, moaning, pawing helplessly at her body, demanding an answer she couldn’t stop moaning through.
Dexter tilted his head, just watching her unravel. Her hands never stopped moving — clawing at her tits, pawing at her hips, rubbing at the outline of her dripping pussy through the soaked lace of what used to be boxers. Every sob out of her came wrapped in moans she couldn’t disguise.
He finally stepped forward, his boots echoing against the lab floor. His voice cut through her whimpers like a blade — calm, confident, triumphant.
“This was for your own good,” he said, tone low and steady. “You were nothing before this. A loser. A waste. Look at you now.” His gloved hand gestured over her trembling, pornographic form, tracing the air along the bounce of her tits, the swell of her ass. “You’re perfect. A body that was meant to be seen. To be wanted. To be used. You’ll be so much better this way.”
Her wide, tear-soaked eyes snapped up to him, lashes clumped wet, swollen lips trembling. “N-noooo… I-I don’t wanna be—ahhhhnnnn—like thisssss~!”
Dexter smiled behind his goggles, stepping closer, his voice dropping into a mock-soothing murmur. “Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet. You’ll be happier this way. Trust me. You’ll never have to worry about failure again. No one will ever ignore you again. You’ll be wanted, worshipped, fucked — everything you could never get as a man.”
She whimpered, dainty hands clutching her tits again, shaking her head violently. “B-but I—I had a dick, I was—”
He cut her off with a bark of laughter, then softened it into a gentle tone, almost fatherly. “You’ll thank me. You’ll see. This is who you were meant to be all along. A woman. A hot, wet, fuckable woman. And I’ll take care of you now.”
She collapsed to her knees again, tits bouncing lewdly as she hit the floor, pussy cleft stamped wet against her ruined panties. Her sobs spilled out high and feminine, but Dexter only crouched to eye level, watching her with a grin that didn’t waver.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered, gloved hand pressing to the glass before him. “And you’ll never go back.”
She jerked her head up, damp hair sticking to her cheeks, tits wobbling wildly as she slapped both hands against the floor and tried to rise again. Her knees shook, her ruined panties clung tight to the dripping cleft between her thighs, but her eyes locked on him with fury burning through the tears.
“Y-you LIED to meeeeee~!” she shrieked, her swollen lips trembling, spit shining as it smeared her chin. “You said—nnnnnghhhh—you said it would make my cock BIGGER! You said I’d be tall, strong, hung like a ffffuuuuuckkkking bull! And instead you turned me into THIS!”
Her hands clawed at her tits, jerking them up and letting them drop heavy, bouncing against her chest with a wet slap. Each motion made her sob louder, her voice shattering into slutty moans she couldn’t suppress. “Look at meeeeee! T-these aren’t pecs, these are fat fucking tits! Big, slutty tits that won’t stop bouncing! This isn’t what I wanted!”
She stumbled forward, tits wobbling like obscene pendulums, sweat rolling down her smooth belly into the waistband of her ruined panties. She jabbed a finger toward him, voice shrill. “You tricked me, Dexter! You fucking betrayed me! I thought you were giving me a monster cock, not—nnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn~—not a goddamn pussy!”
Her hand slapped between her thighs, cupping the obscene cleft stamped into the fabric, sobbing through a whimper. “I had a dick! I was a man! And you—y-you ffffucked me out of it!”
Her shriek cracked into a broken howl, her pouty lips dragging the last words into a moan that made her sound like she was begging instead of raging. “You ruined meeeeeeee~!”
She staggered back a step, tits slapping against her chest, the obscene bounce mocking her anger. Her dainty hands pawed frantically over herself, grabbing, squeezing, pinching, as if she could wake up from this nightmare by proving it was all still wrong.
“NNnnnnnnghhhhh! L-look at thissssss~!” she wailed, clutching her tits again, dragging them up and letting them fall with a sickening bounce. “These aren’t mine! These aren’t supposed to be mine!” She slapped them, the sound lewd and wet, every strike only making them jiggle more. “You made me into some—some big-titted slut! I never asked for this!”
She spun, her fat ass wobbling obscenely, her hands clawing at her wide hips, digging into the smooth flesh. “What the fuck are these hips?! What the fuck is this ass?!” she sobbed, stomping a bare foot against the floor, only to feel the cheeks of her backside ripple and jiggle from the motion. “I can’t even move without looking like some pornstar bending over for cock!”
Her hands dove lower, pawing at her midriff, tracing the damp curve of her bare belly down to the lace-clung seam between her thighs. She froze there, fingers trembling, feeling the heat of the wetness soaking through. Her eyes widened, pupils blown, as her voice cracked into a shrill scream.
“AND THIS—THIS FUCKING PUSSYYYYY~!” She yanked at the waistband, but the fabric just clung tighter, showing the cleft even clearer. “You took my dick, Dexter! You ripped it away from me! And you left me with this! This dripping, throbbing hole between my legs!”
Her sobs turned raw, violent, her swollen lips trembling as spit ran down her chin. “I was your friend! I trusted you! And you—you turned me into—into this—” her voice cracked into a high, slutty moan as she clutched her tits again, unable to stop squeezing them even in her fury, “—this fucking woman!”
Her whole body shivered, tits wobbling, pussy outlined wet against the lace, her moans spilling louder with every sob. Fury, despair, disbelief — all of it twisted together into a breakdown that left her trembling, shaking, pawing at herself as if she could undo it.
Her dainty fists pounded against her thighs, hips jiggling with every strike, her fat ass rippling behind her in betrayal of her rage. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her pouty lips shining with spit as her cries cracked higher, shriller.
“Change me baaaackkkkkkkk!” she howled, tits bouncing wildly as she slammed both palms against them in desperation, squishing them into a wobbling mess. “I don’t care what you did, I don’t care how—just turn me back into a mannnnnnn!”
She clutched at her chest, shaking her head violently, hair whipping damp across her glowing face. “I don’t want these fat, bouncing tits, I don’t want these hips, I don’t want this—nnnnnnghhhhhhhhnnnnnn~—p-pussy between my legs!” She dragged her hand down her bare midriff, pawing at the cleft stamped against her ruined panties, sobbing louder when she felt it throb beneath her fingers.
Her voice cracked into a shriek, girlish and raw: “Give me my dick backkkkkkkk~! I don’t want this hole! I don’t want to be your fucking—ahhhhhhhnnnnnn—your fucking slut!”
She staggered closer to him, tits swinging, arms trembling as she tried to point at him through the sobs. “You lied! You betrayed me! And now you’re gonna FIX IT!”
Her body betrayed her again — every sob forced her tits to wobble violently, every stomp of her dainty foot sent her ass clapping lewdly, every demand came out in a moan-soaked soprano that undercut the rage.
“Turn me baaaaackkkkkk, Dexterrrr!” she wailed, voice cracking into a desperate howl, her swollen lips trembling as the sound echoed through the lab. “Turn me back into a mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”
She stood trembling before him, tits swaying, her dainty arms hugging herself like she could somehow fold her body back into what it was. Her swollen lips parted again, voice breaking, girlish and desperate. “Dexterrrrrr! Please… please turn me back! I-I’ll do anything—just give me my dick back, give me my body back! I can’t—ahhhhnnnnnnn—I can’t live like thissss~!”
Dexter raised a hand, steady, calm, and her sobbing voice cracked into silence for just a moment. He stepped closer, goggles fogged with heat, his expression unreadable. When he spoke, his tone was softer, even gentle — but there was no bend in it, no compromise.
“Eric…” He paused, as if savoring that name one last time. “It’s impossible.”
Her wide eyes went wild, lashes dripping with tears. She shook her head violently, tits slapping against her chest from the motion. “N-noooo! Don’t say that, don’t say that to meeeee~!”
Dexter’s voice grew firmer, sterner, each word landing like a hammer. “Listen to me. The process is irreversible. Every cell in your body… every chromosome… it’s changed. You were XY. Now you’re XX. That isn’t a costume, it isn’t a trick. It’s biology, locked in. You’re a woman now — forever.”
She clutched her tits, sobbing harder, the weight of his words crashing over her. “No, no, noooooo! Y-you can’t do thissssss!” Her voice broke into hiccuping moans, high and slutty, betraying her even as despair consumed her.
Dexter stepped closer still, towering over her trembling frame. His voice softened again, almost tender, but his resolution was iron. “I can’t turn you back. I wouldn’t even if I could. This… this is you now. This is who you’re meant to be. You’re bound to it. Irrevocable. Irreversible. You’ll live like this, you’ll die like this. A woman. My masterpiece.”
Her howl that followed was deafening, a ragged, broken wail that cracked high into a pornographic moan halfway through. She collapsed against the floor, tits spreading lewdly beneath her as she pounded it with dainty fists, her pussy throbbing against the ruined panties, the reality of forever drowning her in despair.
Eric lay collapsed on the cold floor, tits sprawling heavy to either side of her chest, nipples dragging against the damp concrete through the shredded cotton of her ruined top. Her dainty fists pounded weakly, every sob cracked high and warped into slutty moans. Her pussy throbbed against the lace-thin boxers, the outline stamped in full view as her thighs trembled.
Dexter crouched down beside her, boots creaking, the metal of his goggles reflecting the obscene mess of her body. His gloved hand hovered inches from her tear-streaked cheek, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off her.
“Shhhhhh…” His voice came low, almost gentle, almost kind. “I know it hurts. I know you feel broken. But this?” He gestured over her body, tracing the air around her tits, her waist, her ass, her soaked slit. “This isn’t punishment. It’s deliverance.”
She shook her head violently, hair plastered to her damp face, lips quivering. “N-noooo… no, no, nooo… I-I was a man, Dexter, I w-was your friend… and now I’m—ahhhhnnnnnn~!” Another sob broke into a moan as her body betrayed her, tits jiggling when her chest heaved.
Dexter leaned closer, voice curling into a purr. “You say you lost everything. But look at you.” His gloved hand finally brushed her cheek, sliding down to her swollen lips, his thumb grazing the pout. “You’ve gained everything. A body meant to be desired. To be worshipped. To be taken care of.”
Her eyes widened, lashes trembling under the weight of fresh tears. “I-I don’t… I don’t want thissss~!”
Dexter chuckled low, cruel and soft. “You’ll change your mind. Because I’ll be here. I’ll guide you. Protect you. Take care of you.” His grin twisted wide, his words dropping to a guttural murmur. “And soon… you’ll realize this is better. That you’re happier. That this body was always meant to be yours.”
Her sobs shook her tits violently, every moan higher, every cry filthier, as she clutched herself in disbelief.
She braced a dainty hand against the wall, the other clutching her wobbling tits that spilled between her fingers. Her legs shook, thighs rubbing wetly together, her fat ass jiggling shamelessly behind her as she fought to rise. Every sway, every tremble made her look less like a person and more like a walking wet dream.
When she finally stood, her back arched violently under the weight of her breasts, thrusting them forward like she was posing for a camera. Her ruined shirt rode high, leaving her midriff bare and glistening, cleavage deep and obscene, underboob swinging heavy with every ragged breath.
Her swollen lips parted, words spilling out between sobs and moans. “N-noooo… ohhhhhh fffuckkkkkk, h-how… how the hell am I supposed to live like th-thisssss~?!” She slapped a hand down her belly, tracing it to the ruined panties clinging to the dripping cleft stamped sharp between her thighs. “Looking like a fucking wetdream—a pornstarrrrrr! And without a d-dick—ahhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn!”
Her eyes brimmed with fresh tears as she hugged her tits tighter, trying to hide them, only to make them squish together into a valley of lewd, glistening cleavage. She shook her head, hair plastered to her cheeks, her voice breaking shrill. “I-I was supposed to be a man! Hung, strong, worth something! And now all I’ll ever be is this… this dripping, moaning, slutty woman~!”
Her howl cracked into a pornographic moan, echoing through the lab, as if her own body had already decided what she would be — no matter how much her mind still fought it.
She hugged herself tighter, trembling, tits spilling through her arms in heavy arcs. Her ruined panties clung damp between her thighs, every breath making the cleft pulse visibly. Then it hit — a low, buzzing heat crawling through her belly, winding lower, sharper, hotter.
Her nipples stabbed through the cotton, harder than ever, stiff points aching with every shudder. She gasped, clutching at her chest, dainty fingers brushing the swollen nubs through the fabric. The touch made her moan, sharp and high, her knees buckling.
“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnn! F-ffffuckkkkkk! Wh-what is thissss?” Her swollen lips trembled, spit glistening on her chin as her eyes darted to Dexter, wide with panic. “M-my… my nipples… they’re so—nnnnnnnghhhhhhnnnnnn—so hard! Everything feels… f-feels wet inside meeeeee~!”
She staggered, fat ass swaying lewdly, her thighs pressing together as her pussy throbbed against the ruined lace. A whimper spilled out of her, too slutty to be mistaken for anything else.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, lashes trembling. “Dexterrrrrrr! Wh-what’s happening to meeeee? Why… why does my body feel so fucking hornyyyyy~?”
She hugged herself, trembling, tits bouncing in her grip, her thighs pressing tighter and tighter together as if she could smother the throbbing heat between them. Every breath spilled out of her as a whimper, every moan sharper, sluttier, impossible to hold back.
“Dexterrrrrrr! Wh-what’s wrong with meeeee?!” she cried, her swollen lips shining, spit trailing down her chin. “Everything’s hot, I-I can’t stop shaking, my n-nipples won’t go downnnnn! It feels like my whole body’s beggingggg!”
Dexter just crouched in front of her, goggles gleaming, grin wide. His voice came low and smug, each word cutting through her cries.
“Nothing’s wrong. That’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel now.” He gestured lazily at her tits, at the wet outline stamped into her panties. “Your hormones are firing. Your body isn’t male anymore — it’s female. And female bodies crave. They ache. They throb. They need.”
Her eyes widened, tears streaking down her cheeks as she clutched herself harder, tits spilling around her arms, nipples stabbing through the fabric like daggers. “N-nooooooo! I don’t want to feel like thissss!” she sobbed, but her thighs rubbed unconsciously, her pussy pressing wetter into the ruined lace.
Dexter’s grin spread cruelly. “Get used to it. That arousal you’re drowning in? That’s you now. You were built for it. Your new body will always beg, always want, always crave cock. You’ll wake up like this, you’ll go to bed like this. This hunger isn’t leaving you. It’s what you are now.”
She let out a high, broken wail, collapsing against the wall, tits jiggling violently as she slid down it. Her dainty hands clutched her pussy through the thin fabric, trying to stop the throbbing, but the touch only made her cry out louder.
Dexter leaned closer, voice curling like a knife wrapped in silk. “Face it, Venus. Your body was built to be fucked. And now it knows it.”
She whimpered against the wall, tits swaying heavy as she trembled, her ruined panties soaked where her thighs pressed tight. Every moan that spilled from her swollen lips sounded filthier than the last, as if her own voice had turned traitor.
Dexter crouched lower, gloved hands resting on his knees, goggles trained on every twitch of her obscene new body. His grin stretched wide, teeth glinting as he let the words drip out slow.
“You’re never going back. This is forever. From now on, every step you take will make those tits bounce, that fat ass wobble, that pussy throb.” He pointed lazily at her hips, her chest, her soaked crotch in turn. “And you’ll feel it all, every single second. Every jiggle, every sway will remind you that you’re a woman now. A hot, dripping, fuckable woman.”
She shook her head violently, damp strands of hair slapping her cheeks, but the sob that left her mouth cracked high, sluttier than before.
Dexter leaned closer, voice dropping into a hiss. “You’ll wake up wet. You’ll fall asleep aching. Your nipples will harden if the wind so much as brushes them, and your pussy will clench at the sight of a man’s hand. You’ll moan at touches you used to laugh off. You’ll beg when you swore you’d never. Because this body?” He let out a sharp laugh. “This body was built to want.”
Eric sobbed harder, her dainty hands clutching her tits, squeezing them desperately as if trying to smother the need building in her. “N-noooooo! Don’t s-say thatttttt!”
Dexter tilted his head, goggles glinting. “You’ll walk down the street and men will stare. Not because you’re pitiful, like before — but because you’re irresistible. A wet dream on two legs. A pornstar they can smell from a block away. And the worst part?” He leaned so close she could feel his breath through the mask. “You’ll love it.”
She let out another broken cry, but it melted into a moan halfway through, her whole body shuddering under the truth of his words.
Eric trembled, tits spilling through her arms, her swollen lips dragging moans out of every sob. She shook her head violently, damp hair sticking to her cheeks, trying to deny everything, but her body betrayed her with every rub of her thighs, every twitch of her stiff nipples.
Dexter crouched even closer, his tone dropping low, cruel, and clinical.
“You still think this is just your body?” he rasped, goggles glinting. “No. It’s deeper. The transformation didn’t just give you tits and a pussy. It rewired you. Altered your hormones. Changed your brain.”
Her eyes widened, glistening, pupils blown in panic. “N-noooo, don’t—don’t say thattttt~!”
He tilted his head, savoring her terror. “You don’t have a man’s brain anymore. You don’t even think like one. You’ve got a woman’s brain now — soaked in estrogen, built to crave. Built to ache. Built to want men.”
Eric’s sob turned into a high, wet moan, her dainty hand clapping over her mouth as if she could shove it back in. But the sound kept spilling, sultry and broken.
Dexter leaned in, his voice a whisper now, sharp and final. “You’ll fight it, at first. You’ll rage, cry, scream. But it won’t matter. Because your brain is no longer wired to resist. It’s wired to bend. To open. To crave cock. And sooner or later, you’ll give in. Not because you want to — but because you need to.”
Her dainty hands slid trembling down her thighs, pressing against the dripping cleft stamped in her ruined panties. Her wide, tear-soaked eyes locked on him, horrified, even as her hips twitched forward, betraying the pull of his words.
Dexter chuckled low, smug, triumphant. “Face it, Eric. You don’t just look like a slut now. You are one. Inside and out.”
She clutched at her tits, her dainty fingers digging into the fat, trembling flesh, her nipples stabbing so hard through the damp cotton they looked ready to tear free. Her thighs rubbed together, sticky and wet, pussy pulsing through the ruined lace with every heartbeat. Tears blurred her vision, but she couldn’t stop staring at Dexter through them — her lips trembling, spit shining on her chin.
Her voice cracked high, dripping with despair and lust. “I-I was supposed to like womennnnnnn! Supposed to wanna fuck themmmm!” Her back arched, tits jiggling violently, her moans stabbing through her words. “So whyyyyyy—ohhhhhnnnnnghhhhhhhhnnnnnnn—why the fuck am I imagining d-diiiiickkkkk?!”
She slammed her dainty fists against her thighs, but the motion only made her fat ass jiggle, obscene and pornographic. “Why am I thinking about cock nowwwww~?! About—ahhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn—about fucking men?!”
Her hips bucked against the wall without her meaning to, her ruined panties soaking darker, the cleft carved deeper against the fabric. Her swollen lips parted again, her voice breaking into a howl that cracked halfway into a moan. “Wh-why am I thirsting for themmmmm?! Why does it feel sooooo good thinking about a man holding meeeeee?!”
She slammed both palms over her face, sobbing through her own moans, voice muffled but still filthy, slutty. “Ohhhhhh ffffuckkkkkkk, wh-what did you do to my braaaaaainnnnnn~?!”
Her body shuddered, tits slapping against her arms, her pussy throbbing so hard it made her legs shake. Every denial only broke down into more wet, helpless moans — the sounds of a mind screaming and a body begging.
She staggered against the wall, tits wobbling heavy and lewd with every ragged breath. Her dainty fingers clawed at her face, then dragged down her neck to her chest, gripping her bouncing flesh as if holding her tits tighter could anchor her mind. It didn’t.
Her voice split into sobs and high-pitched moans, raw and broken. “N-noooo, no, no, I can’t—ohhhhhhnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnn—I c-can’t stop seeing itttttt!” She slammed the back of her head against the wall, sweat flying from her hair. “Dicks… cocks… f-fuck, I’m seeing them everywhereeee~!”
She clutched at her tits harder, nipples stabbing like bullets against her palms, her moans rising higher, sluttier. “I-I’m picturing them… hard, throbbing… shoving into meeeeeee~!” The last word dragged into a howl that cracked wetly, echoing off the lab walls.
Her dainty thighs squeezed together, the ruined lace of her panties riding up, pussy lips outlined sharp and soaked. She whimpered, her hips twitching forward against the wall as if her body was already searching for something to grind on. “Wh-why can’t I think of womennnnn anymore?! Why is it all c-cockkkkkkkk?! Thick ones, fat ones, ohhhhhhhnnnnnn yessssssss~!”
She froze, eyes wide, horrified at her own words — then screamed again, but it broke instantly into a pornographic moan, long and loud. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNN~!”
Her fat ass jiggled obscenely as she shook, tits slapping against her chest, sweat rolling down her bare midriff. She pounded her fists against the wall, sobbing between whimpers. “Wh-what the fuck did you do to meeeeee?! I c-can’t stop—I can’t stop imagining men—men shoving their cocks into meeeeee!”
Her howl hit the ceiling, echoing through the lab, slutty and loud, as though her new body had already chosen its destiny.
She slammed her dainty palms against the wall, arching forward, her fat tits swinging like wrecking balls beneath her ruined shirt. Tears blurred her vision, but the moans pouring from her lips were clear, sharp, humiliatingly feminine.
“Ffffuckkkkkk! Why can’t I stop—nnnnnghhhhhhnnnnnnnn—thinking about them holding me downnnnn?!” Her swollen lips glistened as the words broke into a pornographic whimper. “Why am I picturing fat cocks—ahhhhhhhhnnnn—slapping against these big fuckin’ titssssss~?!”
Her dainty hands clawed at her chest, dragging the swollen flesh up, squeezing it together. The fabric squealed, nipples stabbing so hard the shirt molded to their stiff shape. “Ohhhh Goddddddd, they’re perfect cocksleeves nowwwww~!” she cried, her voice shattering into a shrill moan.
Her hips jerked, rubbing her soaked pussy against the ruined lace until the cleft carved deeper into the fabric. She shrieked, voice cracking into another filthy confession. “I-I can feel it, Dexterrrrrr! My pussy’s twitching for cockkkkkkk! I don’t want it, but it’s begging for ittttttttt~!”
She pounded her fists weakly against her thighs, but the motion only made her ass quake, cheeks clapping lewdly. Her eyes rolled back, voice slipping into moan after moan, every denial drowned in filth.
“D-don’t wanna be like thissssss! Don’t wanna think about bending overrrrr! Don’t wanna dream about men filling meeee!” She clawed at her midriff, nails digging into her damp skin, her belly twitching under her touch. “But I c-can’t stop—I can’t stop imagining cock stretching my hole, pounding me wide, breeding me full—ohhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn yesssssssssss!”
Her scream turned into a guttural moan, the sound echoing through the lab, raw and pornographic. She clutched her tits, fell to her knees, and sobbed through another confession she couldn’t hold back.
“I’m a whore nowwwww! A hot, wet, moaning whore who can’t stop craving cockkkkkkkkk!”
Her howl carried, breaking into a string of helpless moans that shook her body, her new brain vomiting out every filthy truth she was too horrified to accept.
To be continued…
