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Blue Collar Bimbo [Working Class man to Plastic Bimbo TG]
🕑 Added 2025-05-11 10:41:42 +0000 UTCCommissioned Anonymously
When a magic mirror changes Dave’s body into a blonde bimbo, he is determined not to let it change his life. Unfortunately for him, big tits stand out when you work on a construction site, luckily his best friend Brandon is there to show him the benefits.
~
The bar was dank and dusty, a place about a decade past its prime. Kept only in business by the regulars who were too entrenched in their ways to find someplace new. The door opened, that same tinkling of bell that announced a new patron as always, but this time, heads turned. Conversations paused mid-laugh. Even the jukebox seemed to lose its nerve.
The woman who stepped inside was about as far from the sad, tired men in here as another human being could be.
She had the kind of golden hair that looked like it belonged in a perfume commercial or an old movie—cascading in soft, perfect waves that shimmered with each step. Golden blonde, that caught the dank light in here and made it seem all the brighter. Her dress, short, red and scandalous, hugged her curves like it had been tailored just for her. And what curves they were. The dress could hardly contain them. There was a round, plastic look to them that screamed artificial. The same as her full lips, clearly, they’d seen some filler as well.
She had long legs, high heels, and a walk that made her hips sway like the pendulum of a clock. Her tall heels clicked against the ground. Her presence was almost cinematic—like she'd emerged from somewhere far more glamorous than this dim little bar with its peeling leather booths and cheap neon signs. She looked like a real life barbie doll from California.
Her eyes were a stormy ocean—cool, unreadable, and pulling every gaze into their tide. Lips full and slightly parted, as if she were about to say something devastatingly clever or mysterious—but no words came. Only that knowing smile, subtle, like she was in on every secret in the room.
She moved with the kind of grace that made men stand a little straighter, made the bartender forget what he'd been pouring. He quickly shoved his hands into the sink and washed off the beer that’d dripped onto his fingers and cleared his throat and slicked back his hair. As if something that small could ever make him look presentable.
Time seemed to stand still as she delicately sat her wide ass down on he sat like she owned the stool.
“Hey, darling, what can I get you? Manhattan? Cosmopolitan?”
He rattled off more cocktails, the kind that had never been ordered in a place like this. The woman thought for a moment, and the room paused, waiting to see what candy-sweet drink this beautiful, blonde bimbo would order. And then, the illusion shattered.
“Just gimme a pilsner.”
~
It was amazing, what one short sentence could do. Dave sighed, watching as the eyes in the room went from enchanted to confused. The bartender blinked in confusion and laughed nervously.
“You want a beer?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said, mate, it’s been a long one and I’d prefer to keep the yapping to a minimum.”
His voice might have changed to have a Californian, Valley girl twang but his words were the same as ever. Hearing such rough, working class words out of such a pretty mouth obviously had the bartender off kilter because he poured the beer without another word and pushed it across the sticky bartop.
Dave let out a sigh of relief; it had been a day, to put it mildly, and a beer was exactly what he wanted. He lifted the foamy drink to his mouth, felt the bubbles tickle his lips, and the strong, hoppy flavour coated his tongue. The bitter pilsner made his face twist; yesterday this had been his favourite drink, today he couldn’t imagine anything more disgusting. With a groan of defeat, he put the glass back down and pouted at it.
“Do you have anything…sweeter?” He asked in defeat.
The bartender smiled and went about mixing liquors together, some of the bottles looked like they hadn't seen use in years, but a few minutes later a pink, fruity-looking concoction was in front of him, complete with a little umbrella that had probably been sitting behind the bar since the 80s. This time, when he lifted the drink to his lips, Dave had to hold back a moan; it was sugary, sweet, and barely tasted like alcohol, but his new body loved it.
The bartender was whistling again, and standing way too close. Dave resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It had been this way all day, even since he made the mistake of looking in that strange mirror. He’d been coming home from work at the construction site, when he remembered his sister's birthday.
He’d run into the nearest beauty shop, wanting to grab one of those generic pampering baskets full of oils and scrubs or whatever, when something else had caught his eye. Right at the back of one of the shelves was a mirror that looked straight out of Barbie; a big pink frame decorated with pearls and a surface that was oddly opaque. He’d picked it up out of idle curiosity more than anything, and in doing so sealed his fate.
Once glance and his eyes were glued to the glass that seemed to ripple and shift like water, revealing not his own reflection, but that of a half-plastic looking bimbo. The next thing he’d known, he was blinking and his eyelashes were thick, his tits were out past his chin and his old face was looking back at him in the mirror before it promptly cracked, seemingly out of spite. Now he was stuck in this body with seemingly no way to turn back. The shards of broken mirror were sitting in the bottom of his stupidly small purse, silently taunting him while he tried not to enjoy the drink.
“So, what do you do for a living?” the bartender asked, leaning against the sticky bartop with what he probably thought was a charming smile.
“Construction.”
“C-construction?”
“Yeah, you know, making buildings.”
“Like an architect?”
“Like, the person who pushes a wheelbarrow around full of cement and shovels gravel into it.”
The bartender's smile became strained.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Dave downed the rest of the drink and slammed the glass back on the bar before throwing a twenty down and getting to his feet. He felt his bubbly butt bounce as he walked through the room. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from walking with a sway to his hips. It made his whole body jiggle, from the gentle slope of his shoulders, making his breasts wave back and forth, to his hips moving from side to side. Even walking felt sexual in this body; it was exhausting. Especially when it made everybody in the general vicinity stare like he was a walking piece of meat.
As he made his way down the street toward his apartment, Dave sighed. The pieces of mirror silently sat in his strappy purse, taunting him. Well, if whatever did this to him thought he’d roll over and die, they were wrong. He was just going to keep living his life. So he had a big butt and a pussy now; he was still Dave. And he refused to act like anything else.
~
Dave had always thought wolf whistling was blown out of proportion. He’d been in construction his entire life and only heard men do it a handful of times, almost always as a joke. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder if he just needed his old ears checked. As soon as he stepped onto the site, the air seemed to shift and men started whistling, wooping, even pretending to pant like dogs.
Dave looked down at himself and winced; maybe he had tempted fate by dressing this way, but what choice did he have? His work pants were far too big for his new body, so he’d cut them into a cute pair of booty shorts, leaving most of his leg bare. Save for his thigh-high black working boots. He’d squeezed his new chest into a simple black shirt that was threatening to burst open under his high viz vest, and his long, platinum blonde hair flowed down his back, despite his best efforts to stuff it into his hard hat.
“Hm, now that I think about it…this does sort of look like one of those sexy Halloween costumes…Oh well, what can I do?”
The foreman’s eyebrows flew into his hairline as he approached and clocked in.
“Excuse me, miss? I think you might be lost.”
“Afraid not, Bob.” Dave sighed, “I had a bit of a night, let me tell you.”
Dave placed a hand on his hip and watched as Bob’s eyes naturally followed.
“Ugh, seriously, man? I am trying to talk to you.”
He snapped his fingers in front of Bob’s face a few times to get his attention. As he explained what had happened Bob looked more and more dejected.
“You really are Dave,” He sighed, “And here I was hoping you were a holiday bonus from corporate.”
Dave screwed his face up in disgust. Suddenly, he remembered exactly why Bob was single.
“Can I just go about my day, please?”
“I suppose…”
Dave rolled his eyes and got to it, but hefting heavy wheelbarrows of sand and bricks proved a lot more difficult in this body. The fact that he could feel eyes burning against his cheeks every time he bent over didn’t help. Damn that mirror. It didn’t help that even after finding out who he was, none of his colleagues felt like helping. They were too busy ogling him as he struggled to lift the heavy loads. Those bastards were probably hoping his shirt would tear open from the strain.
Arms burning with strain, he tried in vain to lift a heavy sack of concrete to take to the mixer, only to fall backwards. He landed with a heavy thump on his new ass, and concrete powered flew into the air as the force broke the sack he landed on. A hand appeared through the mist, and Dave sighed in relief; he recognised the distinctive scar on the right finger: Brandon.
Dave took his hand and practically flew through the air back onto his feet. Brandon grinned; his dark hair was matted with powder, but his eyes were bright and full of mischief. Dave felt a strange flutter in his stomach; he’d never realised just how handsome his best friend was.
“Hey, there, pretty lady.”
Dave’s good mood immediately soured.
“Seriously, Brandon? Is that your idea of a good pick-up line?”
The confident smile on his face instantly fell, and Brandon’s cheeks turned pink.
“You know me? I mean, uh, maybe s-sorry was that creepy?”
“Kinda.” Dave snorted, “It’s me, Brandon, did nobody tell you?”
“Tell me what? I was late…”
One slightly awkward sandwich break later, Brandon was all caught up, and his face had only gotten redder.
“Oh God, I can't believe I was flirting with my mate.”
“Look, I can't really blame you for this one.” Dave laughed, leaning back on his hands so his chest was thrust out. “They are pretty impressive.”
“You sound proud.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Brandon’s eyes slid back to Dave’s cleavage before darting away again, and Dave couldn’t help but giggle. He couldn't help it, as annoying as this whole situation was, the attention was kind of nice.
“I’m just saying, if I am going to be a woman, being a hot as fuck woman is better than the alternative.”
‘Brandon looked like he was about to reply when yet another wolf whistle pierced the air, this time from outside the site. They both looked to see a group of men in suits, probably off to some terribly important white collar business lunch.
“Hey sugar, I hope you left some plastic for the insulation!” One yelled, pointing to his obviously fake, beach ball-shaped breasts.
They all laughed and went on their way, and Dave stuck his tongue out at them before he could think better of it.
“Assholes. At least I wasn’t being rude.”
“They just want a piece.” Dave realised with a snicker, “They can tease all they like, but if they thought they had a shot with me, they’d change their tune.”
“D-do they?”
Brandon’s ears turned pink, and he quickly looked away.
“Of course not! I’m not into guys…I don’t think.”
“You don’t think?”
“Well, some other things change along with my body, like how I don't like beer any more, so who knows, maybe I like guys, only time will tell.”
Brandon’s mouth opened and closed a few times before deciding that a giant bite of his sandwich was better than talking.
~
The first few days were gruelling. She’d lost most of her muscle mass and now had two heavy curves getting in the way of her hands on work. She carried rebar, mixed concrete, and lugged materials across uneven terrain. But slowly, she began to notice the way things shifted when she was around.
When she asked if someone could help her lift a bag of cement, two men jumped to assist her before she even finished the sentence. When she forgot her gloves, Bob offered his own. She tested it again. A flutter of her lashes, a tilted smile, and suddenly, a week’s worth of cleanup was halved by volunteers. At lunch, she’d ask questions she already knew the answers to, just to watch burly electricians and seasoned carpenters stumble over themselves to impress her with knowledge.
She made sure her tone was soft, her expressions just curious enough, never demanding. She was never assigned the dirtiest jobs. She could linger by the planning table and be offered input, even if she wasn’t officially part of the design team. Someone always offered her a chair or a cold drink to offer her. Bob didn't even tell her off for breaking uniform code, coming into work each day in tight shorts and a sexy shirt tied off to one corner. It was fun, seeing how long it would take to make one of her coworkers blush just by bending over to pick up a tool.
The only one who kept treating her the same way was Brandon. It seemed like nobody else could see past her tits to the man she used to be. But that didn't matter, Dave herself was starting to feel like more of a she after a few days as well. It felt oddly liberating to walk into a shop and smear all those pretty pigments across her face without any judgment. The first day she walked onto the building site with red lips. Poor Bob had to run straight to his onsite office to avoid embarrassing himself further.
“I’ve never felt more powerful.” She bragged over lunch that day.
She and Brandon had taken to sitting apart from the rest of the guys. There was a pile of steel beams at the back of the site where they could sit and chat. He could manspread his legs again without worrying some poor bloke would unhinge his jaw from dropping it so hard.
“Well, I can’t blame him.” Brandon said quietly, “Your lips do look good.”
His quiet little compliment was a far cry from all the pickup lines and wolf whistles, but for some reason, it made Dave’s stomach tingle. It was so easy to make other people flustered, but Brandon seemed hellbent on acting normal ever since that first day. Dave couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about that bothered her. She grinned and leaned in close.
“Really, what do you like about them?”
“They’re…red?”
“That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Well…”
There was a sudden cry from the back of the construction site, and the two friends shared a look before rushing to see. Bob was standing, hand on his hips, hat on the ground where he’d clearly thrown it in frustration. The foundation they’d all carefully laid the night before was covered in swirls and crude pictures. Large holes and footprints covered the entire slab, and Bob growled under his breath.
“Damn kids! The whole thing’ll have to be redone!”
The workers all groaned, Brandon and Dave included, though Dave’s groan of frustration accidentally came out sounding more like a moan of pleasure. Instantly, several of the workers turned their backs or crossed their legs to hide erections, and Dave felt his cheeks go red.
“I can't help it!” he cried, “My body makes me sound that way.”
Brandon placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, but Dave noticed him shifting uncomfortably. Despite how hard he’d been trying to play it cool, even his best friend wasn't immune to his accidental sex appeal. That made him smile.
“This’ll take all day to dig up, and we’ll have to relay it.” Bob sighed, “Then somebody is going to have to stay behind to watch it dry. Any volunteers?”
“Are you serious?” Brandon groaned, “Watching concrete dry? No way.”
The others muttered similar things, and Bob huffed before shuffling off to his office and returning with a handful of straws.
“Alright,” he called. Come draw straws. Somebody has to watch this concrete so we don’t end up with another graffiti situation.”
Dave just wanted this over with; the sooner she drew, the sooner she could get home. At least, that was the idea until she immediately pulled a short straw.
“What are the odds?” She muttered.
“She shouldn’t stay here alone!” One man piped up.
“Yeah, it’s not safe! Somebody should stay with her!”
Bob cleared his throat and quickly reshuffled the straws, making a new short one.
“Yes, of course, everybody come draw, and of course, I will as well…”
In an instant, the rest of the crew flooded forward with hungry looks in their eyes. Apparently, working late didn't seem so bad if it meant keeping busty Dave company. She couldn’t help but feel slightly flattered that arousal swirled between her legs, and she pushed it down. She would be fine as long as it wasn’t-
“Brandon! You lucky dog.”
Of course.
Brandon stood a few feet away, his broad shoulders slumped as he stared at the freshly poured concrete slab and the short straw between his fingers. His swarthy complexion was flushed from the heat, and his muscular arms, dusted with cement, flexed as he adjusted his gloves. Dave couldn’t help but notice the way his jeans hugged his thighs, the way his T-shirt strained against his chest. That arousal surged, and Dave bit her lip and looked away.
Fortunately, removing the concrete and repouring was hard work. Enough to distract her from the growing warmth between her legs and how lovely it felt. She channelled the strange sexual tension into lifting and hauling, much to the delight of her coworkers.
By the time they finished, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the construction site as Dave leaned against the half-built wall. She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, but of course, these days that wasn’t comfortable. The tight tank top she wore clung to her sweat-dampened skin, accentuating her curves, but right now, she couldn’t care less about her appearance. All she wanted was to go home, kick off her steel-toed boots, relax and deal with this lingering arousal.
One by one, men signed off, each giving Brandon a jealous look until the two of them stood alone as the sun set over the half-finished building. The concrete slab in front of them sat, wet and stubbornly unset. The silence between them was unbearable, the tension continued to rise until Dave couldn’t take it anymore.
“I can’t believe we have to babysit concrete. You’d think a security camera could do this.”
Brandon glanced at her, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before flicking away.
“It’s not like we have anything better to do.”
“Speak for yourself. I was planning on a long, hot shower and a bottle of wine. Now I’m stuck here with you, watching paint—or rather, concrete—dry.”
Brandon smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.
“Could be worse. At least you’re stuck with me. If somebody else had drawn that straw, they’d be drooling all over you.”
‘I wish you’d drool all over me.’ Dave thought before she could stop herself.
They were best friends, partners in crime on the job site, always there to cover for each other when the foreman’s back was turned. She had insisted nothing was different now she was a woman but damn, that lie was getting harder and harder to believe.
“You’re right,” she said, forcing a casual tone. “It could be worse. At least you’re easy on the eyes.”
Brandon’s smirk widened, and he took a step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. He laughed, the sound was rich and made Dave’s stomach fill with butterflies.
“Thanks. You look… good. Even after a day of hell.”
“Oh, Brandon, you sure know how to compliment a lady.”
“Well, it’s not like I can say what I am thinking!”
Brandon’s face flushed, and he quickly looked away. Dave’s heart skipped a beat and she forced Brandon to meet her gaze.
“Do it.”
“You're the hottest woman I have ever seen, hot shit even sweaty and dusty from work you look like sex on legs.”
He swallowed and gave a nervous laugh.
“See, now I sound like a creep.”
Dave felt her pulse quicken as she moved closer still, his scent—a mix of sweat, concrete, and something uniquely his—filling her senses. She knew she should step back, maintain the boundaries they’d barely kept these last few days, but instead, she found herself leaning in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“You’re not a creep, Brandon. You’re actually quite handsome. All manly and… strong.”
He gave those thick arms a squeeze and Brandon sucked in a breath.
“I am bored out of my mind standing here,” Dave continued, ”And when I’m bored… I get creative.”
Brandon’s gaze dropped to her lips, his breath hitching slightly. “Creative, huh? What are you thinking of now?”
“The kind that involves you, me, and this very empty construction site.”
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke.
“Dave, we can’t—”
“Why not?” she interrupted, her fingers brushing against his chest. “We’re both adults. We’re both attracted to each other. And let’s face it, this concrete isn’t going anywhere. Fuck what’s ‘nromal’ maybe life should get a little weird sometimes.”
“Things might get more than a little weird after…
Dave tilted her head, her lips inches from his. “Or they could get a lot more interesting. Friends with benefits, Brandon. No strings, no drama. Just… fun.”
He hesitated, his gaze searching hers as if looking for any sign of doubt. But Dave held his stare, her desire burning brighter than any fear of complications. She was sick of holding back like teenagers; it was time to be adults. Finally, Brandon let out a ragged breath, his hands sliding up to cup her face.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Dave.”
“Let’s hope not,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his.
The kiss was electric, a collision of pent-up tension and unspoken longing. Brandon’s lips were firm yet tender, his tongue teasing hers in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Dave moaned softly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, her body aching for more. There was no love here; this was pure lust, and that made it all the more enjoyable.
Brandon broke the kiss reluctantly, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath.
“You’re sure about this?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything. Now, hurry up and kiss me again.”
Brandon wasted no time and scooped her into his arms, his strength surprising her as he carried her toward the stack of wooden planks leaning against the wall. Dave laughed, her nerves dissolving into pure, unadulterated desire.
“Classy,” she teased, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Who said anything about class?” he shot back, with a wry smile “This is a construction site, Dave. We’re keeping it real.”
He laid her down on the planks, the rough wood pressing into her back, but Dave barely noticed. Brandon loomed over her, his eyes dark with hunger as he traced the curve of her jaw with his thumb.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. “You’ve been tempting me since the very first day you strutted on site.”
“Then stop talking and do something about it,” Dave whispered, tugging at his shirt.
Brandon didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his muscled and slightly rough, hairy chest. Dave’s breath caught as she ran her hands over his muscles, her fingers tracing the lines of his abs. Brandon’s hands slid down to the waistband of her booty shorts.
“These have got to go.”
Dave arched her back as he unbuttoned her pants, his fingers brushing against her skin in a way that made her shiver. She kicked off her boots and wriggled out of her shorts, leaving her in nothing but her lacy black underwear and tank top. Brandon’s gaze raked over her, his desire palpable as he took in her curves. Brandon’s eyes widened as he took in the sexy underwear, and Dave blushed.
“Don’t judge, I had the body, I figured I may as well.”
“I’m not complaining. Not at all.”
Dave pulled Brandon’s trousers down, boxers in tow, revealing a thick cock, hard and waiting for her. Dave’s mouth went dry as she took him in her hands, her fingers tracing the length of him.
“I never thought this sort of thing would turn me on…,” she murmured, her lips brushing against the tip.
Brandon hissed, his hands tangling in her hair as she took him into her mouth. She moved slowly at first, savouring the taste of him, the way he trembled beneath her touch. His groans spurred her on, her pace quickening as she deepened the rhythm, her tongue swirling around him.
“Dave… fuck,” he gasped, his hips bucking slightly. “If you don’t stop, I’m not going to last.”
She pulled back with a smirk, her lips glossy from his arousal.
“Then maybe you should do something about it.”
Brandon threw off his shirt, not seeming the least bit bothered by the cool night air. Dave reached for him, guiding him to her entrance, her breath catching as he pressed inside her.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “So tight.”
Dave moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. The planks creaked beneath them, the rough wood a stark contrast to the softness of Dave’s supple skin. She’d probably have scratches tomorrow, but she didn’t care, the roughness only made things feel hotter. Brandon’s lips found hers again, his kisses fierce and hungry as he filled her completely.
It was such a strange feeling; being filled. Dave had never dreamed she would be on the opposite end of this but she was glad; god it felt good, she needed more.
“Harder,” Dave whispered, her hips rising to meet his. “Fuck, give me everything you’ve got.”
Brandon growled in response, his pace quickening as he pounded into her, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the empty site. Dave’s pleasure built with each thrust, her senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the scent of sweat and desire, the taste of his skin on her tongue.
“Brandon… I’m close,” she gasped, her body tightening around him.
“Me too,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “Come with me, Dave. Let go.”
His words sent her over the edge, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. She cried out, her body shaking as she clenched around him, milking him for every last drop. Brandon followed moments later, his release intense and primal as he buried himself deep within her.
They lay tangled together for a long moment, their hearts pounding in unison, the air thick with the aftermath of their passion. Dave ran her fingers through Brandon’s hair, a lazy smile playing on her lips.
“Well… that was certainly one way to pass the time.”
Brandon chuckled, his breath warm against her neck.
“Definitely more exciting than watching concrete dry.”
She propped herself up on her elbow, and Brandon gave her an appreciative smile, eyeing her figure as the sun finally dipped behind the horizon.
“So… friends with benefits? No strings, no drama? No romance?”
He hesitated for a moment before nodding, his lips curving into a grin.
“Friends with benefits.”
Dave laughed, leaning in to kiss him and savouring the rough feeling of his lips against hers. Brandon pulled back and grinned at her.
“Maybe we should watch the concrete every night, just in case. I’ll ask Bob tomorrow.”
“We’re very enthusiastic about concrete supervision,” Dave said seriously before laughing.
Brandon helped her up, his hands lingering on her waist as they straightened their clothes. Dave felt a strange sense of peace, the tension of the day melting away in the aftermath of their encounter.
As they walked toward the exit, Brandon’s hand brushed against hers, their fingers intertwining briefly before letting go. Dave glanced at him, a knowing smile on her lips. Whatever happened next, she knew one thing for certain: this new body might not be all bad.
