Buddy to Slut (TG Story) - Chapter 2

Buddy 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/1Y-9C3OV8n32bAD1BWNwmWcvSOSuroRkb/view?usp=drive_link

Chapter 2

The grinding cracks didn’t stop. Each pulse of the machine shoved Eric’s pelvis wider, the waistband of his boxers stretched so tight it bit into his skin. He screamed, slamming his fists against the glass, but the sound only came out in broken sobs and guttural moans.

“Nnnnghhh—ahhhhhh fuck! It’s—oh God—my hips—!” His voice cracked higher, raw with terror as another bone snapped, forcing his stance open, his legs trembling under him. His silhouette warped in the mist, the curve of his hips flaring unnaturally broad, his ass pushing back against the straining cotton until the seams groaned.

Eric’s eyes darted down in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. “No… no, no, no, this—this isn’t muscle—this isn’t…” His breath hitched, his hands flying to his sides, feeling the undeniable swell of flesh where there should’ve been bone and sinew. The shape was wrong. Too wide. Too round. His boxers clung to curves that had no business being there.

Tears streaked down his face as he slammed his palm into the glass, screaming hoarsely. “DEXTER! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!” His voice cracked into something shriller on the last word, almost a wail.

Dexter didn’t flinch. He only leaned closer, lips curling into that hungry grin, goggles fogged with heat. “Look at you. Look at those hips, Eric. You could try to deny it, but your body already knows what it’s becoming. Womanly. Fertile. Perfect.”

Eric shook his head violently, clutching at his waistband, trying to squeeze himself back together, to hold the change in. His screams turned desperate, almost childlike in their fear. “NO! It’s not supposed to be like this! You said I’d be stronger! You said I’d be a man!”

The chamber roared back, mist churning hotter around him, and his moans melted into panicked cries as the shape of his lower body betrayed him completely.

The fog churned hotter, almost glowing as it wrapped around Eric’s trembling body. A deep crack split the air from inside the chamber, and Eric let out a raw, broken scream.

“NNNGHHHHAAAAHHHHH! Ohhh God—what the fuck—my waist—it’s cinching in!” He doubled over, clutching at his sides, his fingertips digging into damp skin as his ribs drew tighter, his torso squeezing unnaturally.

The waistband of his boxers bit deep as his frame twisted, narrowing from the sides while his hips flared wider still. His own reflection in the fogged glass betrayed him — a shadow warping into an hourglass he couldn’t deny.

“AHHHHHHH! Nnnnghhhhh! F-fuck—ahhh—stop it—stop it, Dexter!” His screams cracked into moans, desperate grunts tearing out between sobs. “It feels like my bones are snapping—my waist—ohhh God, it’s crushing me down!”

Dexter pressed both hands to the glass, eyes wide, his grin carved deep across his face. He spoke like a prophet, his voice trembling with reverence. “Yes. Break. Twist. This is what you needed, Eric. Don’t you see? I’m taking away that worthless manhood of yours. I’m fixing what nature fucked up.”

Eric’s head snapped up, eyes wild, spittle flying as he shrieked, “What the hell do you mean—‘taking away my manhood’?! This isn’t what you promised! I was supposed to be stronger!”

Dexter laughed, the sound sharp, manic, echoing in the lab. “Stronger? No, Eric. You were never meant to be a man. This machine—my masterpiece—it was never built for growth. It was built for rebirth. The gas is rewriting you, stripping away your Y and carving you into pure double-X perfection.” He tapped the console with feverish delight. “Chromosomes don’t lie. And when this is over, you won’t be whining about your cock. You’ll be begging from between new thighs.”

Eric slammed his fists into the glass, tears streaking down his cheeks, his voice cracking high with panic. “NO! NO, NO, NO! You can’t—ahhhhghhh!—you can’t just—ahhh God—it’s crushing me, Dexter! It’s not right—IT’S NOT RIGHT!”

Dexter leaned in, his grin so wide it looked carved into his skull. “You’ll thank me. When you’re moaning, hips swaying, tits bouncing, dripping with heat you can’t control—you’ll thank me. You’ll beg me never to change you back.”

Inside, Eric’s cries broke into hoarse screams, his torso forced narrower, his body betraying him inch by inch as the gas made him into something new.

Eric’s palms squealed against the glass as he slid down to his knees, shoulders shaking, eyes red and streaming. “P-please, Dexter—please don’t do this! Don’t turn me into a chick!” His voice cracked into something shriller than he’d ever heard from himself. He banged his fists weakly against the wall of his cage, the sound pitiful now compared to his earlier thrashing. “I’ll do anything—just stop it! I don’t wanna be—ahhhhhh God—I don’t wanna be a woman!”

Dexter’s face pressed close to the glass, his grin cruel, almost tender. “Too late, Eric. The moment you breathed in that gas, you were mine. Every chromosome inside you is being rewritten. Your Y is gone. It’s all X now. You can scream, you can beg, but your body doesn’t care what your mind wants. It’s already decided what you’re going to be.”

Eric wailed, pounding the glass with both fists, tears streaking down his cheeks. “Nooo! No, no, no! This isn’t fair! Please, man—don’t take me away from myself! I don’t wanna be tits and ass!” His voice splintered into raw sobs.

Another deep crrrk rattled through his pelvis, and Eric screamed again, throwing his head back as his waist cinched one last time. The waistband of his boxers cut into his hips before snapping loose, rolling down over a frame that was no longer his own. His thighs trembled, knees forced wide, as his body settled into a devastating curve — hips flared, waist cinched, a silhouette no man could mistake.

The fog swirled around him, highlighting the obscene outline of an hourglass trapped in the glass chamber.

Eric collapsed forward onto his palms, chest heaving, his sobs coming in ragged hiccups. “N-no… no, please… don’t make me… don’t make me into this…”

Dexter’s eyes burned with triumph, his lips curling as he whispered through the glass. “You’ll thank me, Eric. When you’re hot. When you’re wet. When every inch of you aches for touch. You’ll thank me for saving you from the pathetic man you used to be.”

And inside the chamber, Eric could only cry louder as his once-masculine frame now bore the unmistakable shape of a woman’s.

The chamber rattled with the force of Eric’s cries, his voice bouncing back sharp and shrill, muffled by the fog but still full of agony.

“NNNNGGGHHHHHAAAAHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH—F-FUUUCKKKK!” He doubled over, clutching his stomach, body convulsing. His scream cut into ragged, breathless grunts — “Ghhhnnnn—ahhhhhh—ngggghhhhhh!” — as the heat spread across his belly like molten fire.

It started deep, like something inside him was boiling. His skin prickled, then crawled under his own desperate touch. His belly fat quivered, shivering like jelly as his nails dug into it. He blinked down through tears, his face twisted in disbelief as the softness began to dissolve beneath his palms.

“AHHHHHHHHH—OH GOD—NNNNGGHHHHH! IT’S—IT’S MELTING—AAAHHHHH!” His stomach tightened, the pudge caving inward as though sucked from the inside out. He could feel it hollowing, muscles twitching and reshaping under the skin, carving new grooves where none had ever been.

The sweat-slick shirt clung tighter and tighter until he ripped it up with trembling hands, his breath catching in horror. His midsection rippled, the last remnants of fat sliding away in waves, leaving behind a taut, smooth plane of flesh that gleamed under the lights. His new waist pinched tight, every line more obscene than the last.

Then his navel drew in — no longer the shallow dent of a man, but a deep, perfect slit in the center of his belly. A sexy navel, carved clean and delicate, set against the curve of a midriff that no man could mistake. He pressed his trembling fingers against it, tracing its obscene femininity.

“NOOOOO! AHHHHHHHHH! NOT MY BELLY—NNNGHHHHH! IT’S—AHHHHHHHH—IT’S SEXY—LOOK AT IT—OH FUCK, LOOK AT IT!” His words melted into another high, desperate shriek, his dainty hands clutching the smooth skin like he could claw the changes out.

Dexter leaned closer to the glass, breath fogging it as his grin cut sharp. His voice was low, steady, hungry. “Perfect. That belly isn’t a man’s anymore. That navel—deep, soft, made to tease—it’s the mark of what you’re becoming. Every scream proves it.”

Inside, Eric writhed, shrieking and moaning as his once-masculine stomach was erased, replaced with the tight, obscene midriff of a woman, his screams ringing sharp and helpless through the chamber.

Eric’s sobs hitched into ragged screams, his new dainty hands clutching his flat, alien belly. But the fire didn’t stop there — it rolled downward, burrowing into his legs.

“NGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! FUUUUUUUCKKKKKK!” His shriek cracked high and girlish, muffled through the fog as his thighs seized, muscles knotting hard under his skin. He fell to his knees, the chamber floor slick with sweat, his voice breaking into frantic, breathless grunts. “Ghhhnnnnnn—ahhhhhh—nnnghhhhh!”

The cords of muscle in his thighs spasmed violently, bulging outward, then softening just as fast. His boxers clung to them, the seams groaning as flesh swelled wider, thicker. His legs pressed together, forced into a round, obscene curve.

“No, no, nooooo! Not my legs! N-not there!” Eric wailed, tears streaming down his face. His hands slid helplessly over the swelling flesh, his voice climbing in pitch as the reality sank in. “They’re—ohhhh God—they’re getting thick! This isn’t muscle—this isn’t strength—it’s—ahhhhhh—nnnnnghhhhh! It’s a chick’s legs!”

Another crack rippled through his hips, and his thighs jolted wider, quivering under his touch. The boxers stretched until they bit into his flesh, riding high up his trembling legs, his new curves obscene and unmistakable.

He banged his fists weakly against the glass, moaning between sobs. “Dexter, please—ahhhhhh, please! Don’t make me into this! I can feel them—look at them—they’re thick, they’re soft—they’re not mine!”

The fog swallowed his cries, his silhouette betraying the truth: a waist sucked in, hips wide, and thighs round and full, pressing together like they belonged on a woman kneeling in heat.

Dexter’s gaze burned with triumph. He spoke with a calm, cutting edge. “Yes… thick, sexy thighs. Built to squeeze, built to tempt. Do you feel it, Eric? That’s not denial in your screams — that’s your body begging to be touched.”

Inside, Eric sobbed harder, his words slurring into girlish moans as his thighs quivered, thick and perfect, sealing another piece of his fate.

The heat gripped Eric’s legs like a vise, every muscle straining, swelling, reshaping beneath his clammy skin. He clawed at his thighs with trembling hands, sobbing, until the last crack thundered through his hips. His body jolted, forcing his knees wider, and his thighs surged outward in one final, violent pulse.

“NNNNGGHHHHHHHHHHH!” The sound tore from his throat, high and breathy, no longer a man’s scream but a sultry, helpless wail. His whole body bucked as the flesh of his thighs rippled, fattening, softening, pressing together in thick, obscene columns of womanly meat.

The boxers that had hung loose and wrinkled minutes ago now clung to him like paint, the fabric stretched so tight it shone. Every seam dug into his new curves, riding up as the cotton molded to his thighs like a second skin. The elastic waistband carved into his swollen hips, the legs of the shorts disappearing into the flesh until it looked more like lingerie than underwear.

Eric staggered forward, both palms sliding down the fogged glass, his breath steaming it up. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Only moans. Long, shuddering, sultry moans that betrayed him with every pitch — “Ahhhhhh—nnnghhhhh—ohhhhhh~” — girlish and needy, echoing back at him from the mist.

He shook his head violently, tears flying, but the sounds spilling from his lips only grew hotter, sweeter, impossible to mistake. His thighs trembled as they pressed together obscenely, the boxers stretched tight between them, his whole lower body radiating heat.

From outside, Dexter watched, his hands pressed to the console, chest heaving with satisfaction. His voice dropped into a hungry growl. “Perfect. Listen to yourself. You can’t even speak anymore — just moan like the slut you’re becoming. Those thighs… thick, soft, made for sin. My masterpiece.”

Inside, Eric sagged to his knees, the fabric of his boxers straining over his new curves, his muffled moans rising sharp and desperate, the last traces of his manhood dissolving into sound.

The change rolled lower, into the meat of his backside, and Eric felt the pressure building before he even saw it.

“NNNNGGHHHHHHH—AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” His scream cracked high, breaking into whimpers as his ass ballooned outward, swelling against the straining cotton. The boxers rode up with each obscene pulse, the waistband biting into his new hips, the legs of the shorts vanishing deep between the cheeks as his flesh surged.

The fabric stretched shiny and tight, clinging like latex to every curve. His ass quivered violently with each moan, jiggling in ways it never had, the swell of it obscene, unmistakable, womanly.

Eric clawed behind him, fingers hooking the waistband, trying to yank the shorts free. “Nnnnghhhhh! Nnnnooooo—ahhhhhhhnnnnnn!” But the harder he pulled, the more the cotton stuck, outlining the fat, round swell of his ass like a second skin. To anyone watching, it looked less like he was fixing his shorts and more like he was groping himself, palms sliding over the new flesh as it bounced and wobbled.

“AHHHhhhhhhnnnnn—ohhhhhh God, it’s—nnnnnghhhhh—it’s huge!” His voice broke into high-pitched cries, no trace of masculinity left. Each moan spilled out sultry, needy, humiliatingly feminine. “Ohhhhhh—ahhhhnnnnnooooo—please, Dexter, stop it—I don’t want thissss~!”

He slammed his palms against the fogged glass, leaving sweaty prints, his ass wobbling obscenely behind him, the boxers wedged deep in a crack so thick it split him in two. His sobs melted into gasps, his whimpering voice now the shrill, breathy voice of a girl begging for mercy.

Outside, Dexter’s expression was stone-hard, but his eyes gleamed with hunger as he drank in every curve. “Look at that,” he muttered to himself, almost reverent. “Every scream, every jiggle—your body knows what it’s meant to be. That ass isn’t yours anymore, Eric. It’s mine.”

Inside, Eric collapsed forward, ass high, sobbing through the fog, every sound from his throat now the unmistakable music of a woman’s voice.

Another sharp CRRRK tore through the chamber, louder than before. Eric’s whole body jolted as if someone had yanked invisible strings tied to his spine. His pelvis tilted forward with a violent snap, forcing his ass back into a deep, permanent arch.

“NNNGHHHHHHHHH! AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” His cry came out high, breathy, desperate, his teeth grinding as the pain seared down his hips. His hands clawed at the glass for balance, knuckles white, but nothing could straighten him again. The position was locked into his bones — his body bent in a way no man’s ever should be, like he’d been designed for nothing but bending over.

The forced arch shoved his ass outward, shameless and obscene, straining harder against the clinging boxers. The cotton stretched across each bouncing swell, wedging deeper into the crack as the flesh quivered. His hips thrust back with every convulsion, making him look like he was presenting himself, his curves framed lewdly by the fogged glass.

Eric groaned through clenched teeth, grunting like an animal caught in a trap. “Nnnnghhhhh—nnnnnooooooo—ahhhhhhhnnnn! F-fuck, it hurts! Why’s it making me—ahhhhhhhnnnn!—stick my ass out like this?!” His moans slipped sultry despite his panic, his voice high and girlish, dripping humiliation.

The more he fought it, the worse it looked — each desperate wriggle only made his swelling backside jiggle harder, the boxers cutting deeper until they looked painted on. His reflection in the glass was a blur of curves, hips wide, ass arched, thighs thick, every part of him screaming feminine.

Dexter’s breath fogged his goggles as he leaned close, voice low and hungry. “Yes. Perfect. Bent just the way you should be. That arch isn’t weakness, Eric — it’s your new posture. Your body’s telling you what you were built for.”

Eric whimpered, pressing his forehead against the glass, his ass trembling in its permanent display. His voice cracked into sobs that bled into moans, feminine and broken. “N-noooo… please, don’t… don’t make me like thiiiis~!”

But the arch held, his pelvis locked, his ass thrusting back in a display no amount of denial could hide.

The chamber hissed louder, the fog swirling hotter around Eric’s bent frame. Then it started — a deep, rhythmic throb in his ass, pounding in time with his racing heartbeat.

“NNNNGGHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH!” His scream cracked high as the first pulse hit, swelling his backside outward in a sudden jolt. His boxers stretched tighter, seams whining as the flesh quivered under the strain.

Another pulse, then another — throb, throb, throb — each one forcing his ass rounder, softer, heavier. Eric’s hands flew back instinctively, grabbing at himself, and his eyes went wide as he felt it swelling under his own touch.

“Ohhhhhh fuuuuuuck—ahhhhhhhnnnnnn!” His moan tore free, sharp and girlish, as his palms sank into new flesh. He squeezed desperately, as if he could hold it back, but each burst only filled his hands with more meat. Rounder. Bouncier. Hotter. His fingers dug into the pliant curves, trembling, as the gas remade him.

He shook his head, tears streaming, his voice shrill and panicked. “N-nooo! Oh God—ahhhhhh! It’s growing in my hands—it’s growing!” His words broke into a high whimper, muffled by another pulse that shoved his ass back into the glass with a wet thump.

The flesh quivered violently, bouncing under his palms, refusing to stop. Every moan that slipped from his lips only seemed to sync with the throbbing rhythm, his voice betraying him further with every sound.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnn! Ohhhhhh—nnnnnnghhhhh—ahhhhhhhnnnnnooooooo~!” The noises didn’t sound like protests anymore — they dripped sultry, lewd, the helpless cries of someone feeling their body swell into something obscene.

Dexter leaned in, his breath fogging the glass, eyes shining with perverse delight. “Feel that? Every pulse pumping life into your new ass. Heavy, juicy, built to bounce. You’re not holding it back, Eric — you’re feeling it become real.”

Inside, Eric sobbed through another moan, his hands sliding helplessly across the swelling curves as his boxers stretched taut, his ass now too soft and thick to deny.

Eric staggered sideways, his legs trembling under the weight of new curves. The motion slammed his ass against the chamber wall with a loud, wet THWAP. The glass rattled, fogged instantly where the flesh met it, leaving a smeared, perfect print of his roundness.

“AHHHhhhhhhnnnn~!” The moan ripped out of him before he could choke it back. His eyes went wide with horror, both hands flying to his mouth, but his voice betrayed him anyway, high and sultry, dripping heat. The sensation was too raw, too electric — the jiggle rippled through him, and his body shuddered with another helpless whimper.

He turned to the glass, desperate, and his reflection mocked him. The fogged surface showed a warped but undeniable shape — a fat, obscene curve bulging outward, straining the fabric until it looked ready to burst. His boxers clung to every contour, riding so high they vanished into the deep crack, making the swollen cheeks look bare, shameless.

Eric clawed at the waistband, screaming through his tears. “Nooo! N-no, no, no, this isn’t—ahhhhnnnnnghhhhhh!” Another stagger sent his ass slapping the glass again, leaving a second fogged print, bouncing hard enough to jiggle in waves. Each hit tore another moan from his throat, higher, wetter, impossible to hide.

“Ahhhhhhhnnn~! Ohhhhhh—nghhhhnnnnn!” His voice was pure woman now, sultry and broken, every sound a contradiction of denial and arousal. His new ass jiggled with every motion, mocking him, betraying him, displaying itself no matter how he tried to cover it.

Dexter’s lips curled as he watched, hands gripping the console like a man resisting temptation. “That’s it. Slap it. Make it bounce. Every moan you let out is proof, Eric. Look at that ass — round, juicy, begging for attention. No man walks away from that. You’re not a man anymore. You’re a masterpiece.”

Inside the chamber, Eric pressed his forehead against the glass, sobbing as his ass quivered behind him, the reflection taunting him with every obscene curve he couldn’t deny.

The pressure was too much. His ass had grown too fat, too heavy, too obscene for the cotton to contain. With a sharp, tearing RIIIPPP, the seam down the back of his boxers split open.

Eric shrieked, his hands flying back in panic. But the sound that tore from his throat wasn’t the bark of a man — it was a breathy, high-pitched squeal, girlish and sultry, like a woman gasping from a slap. His eyes went wide in horror as he felt the cool air hit bare skin, the rip exposing a deep, bouncing cleft between two swollen cheeks.

“NNnnnooooo! Ohhhhhh fuuuuuckkkk—ahhhhhhhnnnn~!” The moan slipped out right after, his voice cracking into whimpers he couldn’t choke back. His hands clawed at the torn fabric, trying to pull it closed, but every twitch of his trembling thighs just wedged it higher, stretching the ruined shorts until they rode up like a thong.

The boxers clung like latex over the rest of his ass, every curve outlined in obscene detail, the rip down the middle teasing a strip of bare flesh that peeked out shamelessly. His fat new cheeks jiggled with every sob, bouncing under his frantic palms as he tried to cover himself.

Dexter licked his lips slowly, his grin feral, eyes locked on the split cotton. “There it is… the first taste of the real you. That ass doesn’t belong in boxers anymore — it belongs in lace. Or better yet… out in the open, bouncing, begging.”

Eric shook his head violently, tears spilling down his cheeks, his whimpers muffled by his own hand. But every time his ass slapped against the glass, the rip widened, until the shorts were nothing but a strip of fabric riding deep into his crack, displaying him shamelessly.

His voice betrayed him entirely now — high, broken, whimpering like a horny girl. “Ahhhhhhhnnnn! Ohhhh God, it’s—ahhhhhhhnnnnnooooooo~!”

Dexter chuckled, low and cruel, savoring every filthy sound. “That’s it. Squeal for me, baby. The more you fight it, the sluttier you sound. That ass is already mine.”

By the time the cracking stopped, his lower body was unrecognizable. His hips had flared brutally wide, his waist cinched narrow, and behind him, his ass had ballooned into an obscene, fat curve that wobbled with every shiver.

Eric pressed his hands to the glass, eyes wild and wet, his forehead thudding against the fogged surface. His voice tore free, high and sharp, half sobs, half moans. “N-noooooo! Ohhhh God—ahhhhnnnnnn~! I’ve got a… a big fat woman’s ass! Nnnnghhhh! My hips—ohhhh fuuuuuuck, they’re huge!”

His trembling hands slid down to his sides, tracing the impossible curve of his hourglass frame. The flesh felt alien under his touch — soft, round, bouncy. He sobbed louder, his voice betraying him with every shrill, breathy note. “Whyyy? Ohhh God, whyyy? I c-can’t—I can’t have hips like thisss~!”

He tried to clench, to force the wobble still, but the squeeze only made the curves stand out more. His fat new cheeks quivered shamelessly, bouncing against the ruined shorts that now fit like a thong. Each jiggle ripped another moan out of him, humiliatingly feminine.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnn! Nnnnnooooo, it’s not fair! My ass—it’s… it’s a chick’s ass! Look at it! Look at it, Dexter!” He screamed through tears, but his voice cracked high, breaking into sultry sobs that made his words sound like begging.

Outside, Dexter’s lips peeled into a wicked grin, his breath fogging the glass as he leaned closer. “Jesus, look at the size of it. That’s not a man’s ass, Eric — that’s two fat pillows made for spanking until you cry. Every slap will make you jiggle, every jiggle will make you moan. That’s all it’s good for now.”

Eric wailed, the sound muffled by the chamber, his reflection showing him the truth: hips wide, ass fat, his entire lower half undeniably female.

Eric shifted on trembling legs, trying to steady himself, but his whole balance was off. His new hips swayed wide, pulling his center of gravity back with every desperate stagger. His fat ass wobbled behind him, dragging his body into a rhythm he couldn’t stop, each motion bouncing like it had a life of its own.

“NNNNGGHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HHHHHNNNNNNNHHHHH!” His cries weren’t words anymore — just guttural grunts that cracked high, sultry moans breaking free between clenched teeth. His throat no longer carried the weight of a man’s voice. Every sound dripped heat, feminine, wet, obscene.

His reflection in the fogged glass mocked him: shoulders hunched, hips wide, ass round and fat, swaying with every twitch of panic. He pressed both palms against the glass, panting, but all that spilled out of him were breathless, sexy noises — sharp whimpers, slutty gasps, broken sobs that sounded more like moans of pleasure than protests.

“HHHhhhnnnnnghhhhhh! Nnnnnnnnnghhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn~!” The chamber filled with it, every grunt syncing with the jiggle of his backside, each bounce forcing another noise from deep in his chest. His body was betraying him in stereo: wobble and whimper, jiggle and moan.

Dexter’s grin stretched viciously, his voice low and gleeful as he leaned close. “Hear yourself? You’re not even making words anymore — just slutty sounds. That big ass of yours sways, and your body sings. That’s not denial, Eric. That’s your new nature.”

Inside, Eric’s tears rolled down his cheeks as he shook his head violently, but all that answered was another wobble of his wide hips and another sharp, breathy moan spilling from his lips. His disbelief was etched in his eyes, but his voice had already betrayed him completely.

Eric was still shaking, his hands sliding helplessly over the obscene swell of his fat new ass, when another bolt of pain ripped through him. This time it hit his skull. A sharp, grinding CRRRK rattled through his jaw, and his whole body jerked.

“NNNNGGHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH!” His scream tore out raw, higher-pitched, echoing in the fog. He clutched his face, palms digging into his cheeks as if he could hold the bones in place. “Wh-what the ffffuuuckkk—ahhhhhhhhnnnnnn!”

The ache rolled through his jaw, forcing it narrower, softer. His teeth ground against each other as his face shifted under his own touch, the sharp angles he’d always seen in the mirror melting. His grunts came out muffled, wet against his palms. “NNNGHHHHhhhnnnnn! Ffffuckkkk—ahhhhhhhnnnnnn!”

His nose burned next, crunching inward with a sick pop that made him shriek. He staggered back into the glass, his wide hips and fat ass smacking it with a lewd thwap. He didn’t even notice — too busy grabbing at his face, eyes wide with horror as the bridge collapsed smaller, slimmer, feminine.

Eric’s breaths came shallow, panicked, his throat raw as the sounds leaving him turned even sharper, more girlish. “N-noooohhhhhhhnnnnn! S-something’s happening to my f-faaaccccceeee~!” His voice cracked, the cry melting into a sultry whimper that made him clap both hands over his mouth in shock.

Inside, Eric writhed, moaning into his palms, his reflection in the fog showing a warped, shifting outline where his face should be — already softening, already betraying him.

Eric’s scream caught in his throat as the pressure surged into his jaw. A wet, grinding CRRRRK split through his skull, his square jawline buckling, bones scraping as they slimmed inward. His face clenched hard, teeth grinding, until the pain forced a high, breathy moan out of him.

His jaw reshaped in cruel pulses, each crrk carving away the masculine angles, leaving a slimmer, delicate curve behind. Eric’s trembling fingers slid down over it in disbelief. Where there had been sharp corners, he felt smooth lines, soft and alien under his touch.

“n-noooooo…” he whimpered, sobbing as his voice cracked high, breaking apart like glass. “N-noo, no, no, not my face—ahhhhnnnnn~!” The sound wasn’t even a protest anymore — it slipped out breathy, sultry, a woman’s moan dressed as denial.

His cheeks burned next, swelling with pressure until the skin stretched tight. They filled with smooth flesh, soft but firm, high cheekbones rising beneath his fingertips. He dragged his hands down across them, sobbing as he felt the masculine hollows vanish. His face glowed wet with tears, but the new angles shone feminine beneath them.

He gasped sharp through his new jawline, chest heaving, eyes wild in the fog. “It’s… it’s not me anymore…” he whimpered, every syllable cracking higher, trembling closer to a woman’s voice with each word.

His reflection mocked him in the misted glass: jawline slim, cheeks glowing, a stranger’s face staring back through the blur — a woman’s face, forming out of his own.

The fire crawled up into Eric’s mouth, and suddenly his lips pulsed.

“NNNNGGHHHHhhhhh—ahhhhhhhnnnnnn~!” His cry warped into a filthy moan as his lips swelled in wet bursts, puffing outward thicker and fatter each time. He grabbed at them with trembling fingers, but every pulse only pushed more obscene flesh into his hands, soft and slick like hot rubber balloons.

They grew into lewd, plush pillows — pouty, fat, dripping with spit. His mouth looked like it had been sculpted for one thing: to kiss, to suck, to wrap tight around cock.

Eric whimpered, panicked, trying to force his lips shut — but they refused to obey. They parted on their own, leaving him panting like a bitch in heat, his breath spilling out in ragged, slutty noises.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnnn hhhnnnnnnnnnhhhhhh nnnnnnghhhhh~!” Every gasp came out wet and dirty, thick lips shaping the sounds into whorish moans no man could make.

His eyes went wide in horror, tears streaking his smooth cheeks as his dainty fingers traced over his new pout. “N-noooooo—ohhhhhh fuckkkk~” he sobbed, but the words cracked apart, his fat lips dragging them into filthy, girlish whines.

The reflection in the glass mocked him mercilessly: swollen pout hanging open, glossy and obscene, his own mouth now a cocksucker’s wet dream.

He clawed at his lips, trying to squeeze them back into his face, but all it did was smear spit across them, making them glisten. Each touch made them throb harder, dragging more moans out of his ruined throat.

His breath hitched, chest heaving, every exhale caught by his fat, pouty lips and warped into a lewd little whimper. Eric couldn’t beg anymore. He couldn’t protest. His own mouth had betrayed him, turning every sound into the moans of a hungry slut.

The burning crept upward, crawling into Eric’s skull. His vision swam, doubled, then snapped into sharp clarity as a pressure built around his eyes.

“NNnnnghhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhnnnnnooooooo~!” he shrieked, clutching at his face. His eyes ached, sockets shifting, the bones grinding wetly as they widened. His lashes prickled, then burst outward, thickening in dark, curling fans that brushed his damp cheeks.

Tears streamed down them in fat, wet streaks, only making them glisten more. His reflection in the fog mocked him — no longer wild man’s eyes, but huge, doe-like, framed by lashes that begged for attention.

He gasped sharp, high-pitched, pupils blown wide. “N-nooo, not my eyes, not my fuckin’ eyes—ahhhhhhhnnnnnhhhh~!” His protests cracked into slutty moans, every syllable warped by his fat lips.

He rubbed at his face with dainty hands, as if he could scrub the changes away, but all he felt was smooth skin and lashes so thick they tangled under his fingers. Every blink was slow, heavy, sultry — like the bedroom flutter of a whore luring someone closer.

The fogged glass caught it all: pouty, swollen lips hanging open, cheeks smooth, and wide, wet eyes that screamed woman, glowing even through tears. His sobs betrayed him completely, shrill and breathy, framed by lashes that turned them into pretty tears.

Eric collapsed to his knees, staring in disbelief at his reflection. “I-I c-can’t… I c-can’t look like thisssss~!” His voice broke apart, his lips dragging the words into a needy whimper. His eyes widened further, lashes damp and long, every tear making them sexier — sultry bedroom eyes staring back at him, framed by misery.

The chamber was no longer a machine — it was a coffin of fog. The mist wrapped around Eric until there was nothing left of him but shadow on the glass. And that shadow wasn’t his anymore.

What stood in the vapor wasn’t the skinny, useless man who’d walked inside. The outline was obscene: wide, flaring hips swaying with every stagger, a fat, wobbling ass jutting shamelessly back, a waist cinched into an hourglass. The silhouette alone looked like something pulled straight off a dirty magazine spread — a pornstar kneeling in heat.

Eric’s palms slapped against the glass, streaking it with sweat and spit, his breath ragged. “Dexter—ahhhhhh God, please! Stop it, stop it, I can’t—nnnnnnnooooooo~!” His voice cracked, splintered, pitched high until every word came out shrill and wet, the slutty sobs of a woman begging.

His swollen lips smeared spit across the fogged surface as he pressed his face to it, sobbing, lashes heavy with tears. Behind him, his silhouette betrayed him with every breath — ass jiggling, thighs pressed thick together, the sway of his hips lewd even in panic.

He sank to his knees, sliding down the glass, and his outline only grew filthier: arched back, ass up, chest heaving. His body moaned even when his mouth begged. The echoes rattled back at him from the chamber walls, his own voice sounding like a pornstar caught mid-climax.

“I-I don’t want this! Don’t make me a chick—ahhhhhhhnnnnnn~!” The protest dissolved halfway, his voice dragging into a moan so hot it undercut the desperation. He pounded the glass with dainty fists, tears running down his cheeks, but all that looked back at him through the fog was a whore’s silhouette.

And Eric knew — even as he begged, even as he cried — his shadow had already become a woman’s.

Dexter finally spoke, his voice cutting through the hiss of the chamber like a scalpel. He watched Eric’s silhouette writhe, collapse, moan, and he didn’t flinch.

“This is for your own good,” he murmured, almost to himself, though the microphone carried it into the fog. “You were wasted as a man, Eric. Useless. Miserable. But now…” His goggles gleamed as he leaned closer, grin spreading. “Now you’re almost finished.”

Eric’s head snapped up, tear-streaked face pressing to the glass, swollen lips quivering. He let out a broken, girlish sob that cracked into a moan.

Dexter’s tone grew clinical, almost reverent. “Your chromosomes are gone. XY? History. Every cell in your body is XX now. Every scream, every sob you’ve given me has been as a woman already. Your fate is sealed.”

He adjusted a dial, eyes glued to the trembling shadow in the fog. “There’s just one more stage. Two very big things need to burst out… and when they do, there’ll be nothing left of Eric.”

Eric whimpered loudly, voice shrill, the words muffled by his pouty lips. His silhouette arched in panic, clutching at his chest, as if he knew what was coming.

Dexter only watched, breath fogging the glass. “Yes… it’s time.”

Eric’s palms pressed hard against the glass, his body trembling, when the next wave hit. A hot, crushing pressure bloomed in his chest. It wasn’t the ache of bones breaking this time — it was deeper, heavier, swelling under his skin.

“NNNNGGHHHHHHHHHH! HHhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnghhhhhh!” His throat tore with guttural grunts, raw and high, his voice cracking sultry at the edges. His flat chest spasmed, muscles twitching violently beneath his damp shirt.

Another pulse. His pecs jerked under his skin, the twitch sending him stumbling back. He grabbed at himself with both trembling hands, fingers clutching desperately at the damp fabric.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnnn! F-ffuuuuuuckkkk~!” he squealed, his swollen lips dragging the curse into a moan. His nipples ached hotly, stabbing through the shirt with every twitch, stiffening against the soaked cotton until the points were sharp and undeniable.

He pawed at them, sobbing, and the touch only made them burn worse. “Nnnnnghhhhhh! AHHHHhhhhhhhnnnn! It’s—ohhhhhh Godddddd it’s—nnnnnoooooo!”

His head thudded back against the glass, eyes wide, cheeks wet with tears. In the fogged reflection, he saw his torso convulsing, chest twitching and sparming under the shirt, the nipples already pushing proud and obscene.

The realization hit him, sharp as the ache in his chest: his body wasn’t trying to build muscle. It was growing tits.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnn! Nnnnnnoooooooo! D-don’t—don’t let it—ahhhhhhhnnnnnn!” His words fell apart into breathy, whimpering grunts, his whole body jerking as the pressure built higher, ready to burst.

The pressure sharpened, zeroing in on his nipples. At first it was just a sting, a needle-prick ache that made Eric hiss through his teeth. Then it bloomed hotter, swelling, throbbing with every frantic beat of his heart.

“NNNNNGHHHHhhhhhhnnnn! Hhhhhhhnnnnnnnghhhhhh~!” His cries cracked high, raw, bouncing between guttural grunts and shrill moans. He clutched at his chest, fingers clawing the damp shirt as two hard points shoved forward, stiff and aching.

The fabric molded tight to them, every twitch making them press deeper, sharper, until the soaked cotton looked painted onto his skin. The pain flared, but with it came a raw, electric pleasure that forced a moan from his fat, pouty lips.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnn! F-fffuuuuuuckkkkkk! Ohhhhhh Goddddddd~!” The words dissolved into wet, girlish cries as his nipples puffed thicker, fatter, stretching the shirt with every pulse.

He tried to smother them with his palms, pressing flat against his chest, but the contact only made the sensitivity worse. His back arched violently, his head snapping back as another high-pitched scream ripped out of him.

“HHhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhh! AHHHHhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnn~!” His voice was nothing but a slut’s soundtrack now, guttural grunts slipping into lewd, breathy moans, every noise syncing with the obscene swell beneath his shirt.

His reflection in the fogged glass taunted him mercilessly — two fat, swollen nubs jutting through the fabric, already womanly, already humiliating.

Tears streaked down his cheeks as he sobbed through the heat, voice breaking into a plea that was more moan than words: “Nnnnnot—my—nipplesssssss~!”

Eric’s fingers shook as he clawed at his own hair, clutching his head like he could block out what was happening. His chest heaved, every breath harder to draw, the pressure inside him rising to a breaking point.

“NNNNNGHHHHHHHHHHHH! HHhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhh~!” His guttural grunt cracked into a desperate moan as the swell began. His pecs convulsed violently, the muscles spasming before the flesh erupted forward in heavy, obscene pulses.

The damp shirt clung to him like a death shroud, already soaked through with sweat. Then the pressure hit, and it began to groan. Threads stretched taut as his pecs convulsed, flesh surging forward in wet, obscene pulses. It started with a twitch, a sharp spasm beneath his pecs, then another, then a violent surge that made Eric slam his head back against the glass with a guttural, girlish moan. His chest bucked outward, skin stretching hot under the damp cotton, and suddenly the shirt was alive — squealing, groaning as if it could feel the agony of what was happening beneath it.

“NNNNNNGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” he wailed, fingers clawing at his temples as the pressure rolled forward in cruel, wet pulses. His pecs didn’t just swell — they ballooned, meat bursting into new shapes, obscene mounds that forced the soaked fabric outward with every ragged sob he dragged from his throat.

The shirt groaned louder, seams whining like they were begging to be put out of their misery. The cotton strained so tight you could see every ripple of flesh beneath it — each throb of his chest sending the fabric lurching forward in a lewd bounce.

Then it came in bursts. THUMP. His chest jolted forward a good inch. THUMP. Another violent swell, rounding heavier, weightier, wobbling against its restraints. The mounds slapped together, flesh jiggling obscenely before settling into swollen curves that had no business on his body.

His moans came louder, sharper, high-pitched, almost whistling between his swollen lips as his chest kept erupting, jutting out in cruel pulses. With every expansion, the new orbs of flesh bounced lewdly, smacking against the shirt and sending ripples through his torso. It wasn’t just growth — it was his body rebelling, bursting out into tits so heavy they already dragged his shoulders forward.

The damp shirt was losing, seams shrieking, fabric stretched to transparency. Every jiggle, every bounce of his new breasts sent a fresh cry from his ruined throat, the sight of the obscene swell beneath the cotton mocking him in every reflection of the fogged glass.

Eric’s chest had stopped being his. It wasn’t pecs anymore. It wasn’t muscle. It was two fat, heaving tits — bouncing, swelling, straining mercilessly, the fabric groaning around them like a gag about to snap.

The shirt rode higher, tighter, molding to the new curves until it looked more like a perverse bra than clothing.

Eric’s nipples were the cruelest betrayal of all. They stiffened brutally, fat and engorged, pushing out like swollen bullets. Each twitch made them ache hotter, rubbing raw against the damp fabric until the points showed sharp and shameless. The shirt stretched so tight over them it looked painted on, clinging to the round, obscene swell of his new tits like wet latex.

Every moan that tore from his throat made his chest jiggle, the mounds bouncing lewdly under the straining cloth, nipples poking harder with each heave. The sight was obscene — the cotton sucking against his skin, every contour outlined, underboob threatening to spill free with every breath.

Eric sobbed, clawing at the shirt in disbelief, but all he managed to do was press the fabric tighter to his tits, shaping them more clearly. The soaked cotton left nothing to the imagination: two massive, swollen breasts, jutting forward, jiggling with every sob and tremor of his ruined voice.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnnnn! Ohhhhhh fuuuuuuckkkkkkk~!” His shrill, slutty wail filled the chamber, his back arching as his tits bounced violently, heavy mounds slapping against his ribs before settling into lewd, rounded weight.

The shirt lost its battle, hem rolling up his stomach until it rode high under the swell, exposing his glistening midriff. What was left clung like a crop top, molding to the curve of his tits, leaving a fat strip of underboob hanging free, sweat dripping down the smooth skin.

His trembling hands fell from his head, sliding instinctively down to clutch his chest. The moment his palms met the new flesh, he let out a shriek — half sob, half moan. His tits squished together in his grip, cleavage bulging high, the massive mounds bouncing lewdly as his fingers sank into them.

“NNNNNnnnnoooooo~! Ohhhhhh Godddd, they’re… they’re tits!” His voice cracked into a desperate, breathy sob, swollen lips shaping the words into girlish whimpers. He couldn’t stop touching them, couldn’t stop feeling the obscene weight jiggle and bounce in his own hands.

The fogged reflection mocked him again: wide hips, fat ass, tiny waist, and now two heavy, bouncing tits bulging out of a ruined crop top, cleavage spilling like a pornstar in heat.

The growth didn’t stop at jutting forward. It got worse. His chest sagged, swollen flesh dropping lower with each cruel pulse, the heavy mounds dragging at his frame until they hung like obscene weights on his ribs.

Eric gasped sharp, arms clutching at his chest in panic, but his tits just poured over his hands, too heavy, too soft to be contained. “NNnnnnnnghhhhhhnnnnnn! AHHhhhhnnnnnnnnnn~!” His sob broke into a squeal as his back caved under the new burden, spine arching violently.

The weight forced his shoulders back, his tits thrust out, bouncing forward like he was presenting them on display. His posture was no longer his — it was a pornstar’s stance, obscene cleavage pushed front and center, sweat gleaming down the deep valley.

He whined, squirming under the pull in his shoulders, but every cry came out ruined. His pouty lips parted and what spilled wasn’t protest but slutty moans, whimpers dragged long and breathy, girlish sounds that betrayed him completely.

“Ahhhhhhhnnnnnnn! OHHhhhhnnnnnnnn! F-fffffuuuuuuckkkkkk~!” His voice rose with every bounce of his tits, each wobble sending another shock of agony-pleasure through his chest. The sweat-soaked crop of his shirt clung tighter, riding high to leave massive arcs of underboob swaying free, nipples swollen stiff against the fabric.

His reflection in the fog mocked him: a narrow waist, wide hips, fat ass jutting back — and tits so heavy and pendulous they looked bred for grabbing, spanking, worshipping.

Eric collapsed forward onto the glass, tits flattening lewdly against it, nipples like swollen buttons leaving fogged circles on the surface. He whimpered against his own reflection, high and broken, every sound begging even as his mind screamed in denial.

Eric slid down the glass until he was kneeling, his tits hanging heavy off his chest, swaying lewdly with every shudder of his body. He couldn’t stop himself — trembling hands crawled up, cupping the obscene mounds like he had to prove they were real.

The moment his palms sank into them, his whole body convulsed. “NNNNNNGGHHHHHHhhhhhhnnnnnn! AHHhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnn~!” His shriek cracked into a moan, fingers dimpling the soft flesh, tits spilling lewdly between them, bouncing when he tried to push them down.

“Th-they’re—nnnnnghhhhh—they’re too biiiiiiiiggggg~!” he sobbed, voice breaking into a girlish wail. His fat lips smeared spit down his chin as he groaned through gritted teeth, but the sounds betrayed him, high-pitched and slutty.

The breasts wouldn’t be still. Every squeeze sent them wobbling, slapping lightly against each other, sweat-slicked flesh making obscene sounds against his palms. His nipples stabbed through the shirt, swollen and stiff, poking into his hands no matter how he tried to ignore them.

He pulled at the fabric, desperate, but the cotton only stuck tighter, molding to the fat arcs, underboob spilling free beneath the stretched hem. The ruined crop-top left his cleavage obscene, bouncing in deep valleys he couldn’t hide.

“NNNnnnnnnooooooo! Ahhhhhhhnnnnn! S-somebody stopppppp!” he cried, but his own reflection mocked him — a whore kneeling, tits spilling from her grip, sobbing while her body made nothing but porn sounds.

Each moan grew louder, sharper, syncing with the lewd bounce of his tits in his own hands. His breakdown was total: Eric was gone, replaced by a trembling, moaning silhouette with tits too big to deny.

To be continued...