Okay, thought Roderick, there’s probably a perfectly good way to get out of this.

He was stuffed—actually stuffed—inside of a locker. Roderick wasn’t particularly athletically gifted. He wasn’t large, he wasn’t small, he wasn’t fat or skinny. Being average in every particular way when it came to physical abilities, there was still quite a lot of him to be stuffed inside of a space as small as a locker.

The problem was that he hadn’t helped Chase Carter cheat on his take-home exams. Carter was a quarterback for the Bloomingdale Heights University Boomers. He was a stud; girls fawned over him and guys glommed onto him hoping to pick up a little bit of his glory.

He was also dumb as a rock sandwich and desperately needed help in Trigonometry, a class he shared with Roderick. Roderick had, for a little extra cash, taken on the role of Chase’s tutor. Unfortunately, after just a couple of sessions, it was made clear that what Chase meant by this was that Roderick would do all his work.

Roderick had pride. He had dignity. He had ethics.

Now, for all of those things, he was stuck inside of a locker in the football player's locker room. It smelled like they peed in it regularly. Chase had help stuffing Roderick in there from his several offensive lineman friends. One of them had left Roderick with a small water bottle with a straw in case he got thirsty.

“Chin up, guy,” the asshole had said. Probably thought he was being nice, leaving him something to drink.

Roderick suspected he would be stuck inside this locker all weekend. It was a Friday, and the cleaning staff didn’t arrive until Monday. Already the overhead lights were off—it was only a matter of time until the back-up motion-detector lights turned off from the lack of movement in the locker room.

So forget about just the embarrassment of being found like this. Now he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to get out at all. That he would starve all weekend. That all the creepy crawlies that lived in the jocks’ dirty, smelly clothes (and oh god did they smell) would find Roderick himself quite a tasty treat.

The door was closed, but not locked. His mass inside the locker wouldn't let them lock it. But they had stuffed him in so completely that it hadn't mattered.

Slowly he started to rock himself from side to side. He had done this before, when he was first stuffed inside—it hurt his shoulders and his knees, tight screws grinding into both. But that was before the lights had started to go out. It was probably close to ten at night now. If he stayed there much longer, he was likely to get weaker, without even the strength to get himself free.

Wiggling, wriggling, writhing, he was able to push his heel down on the corner of the locker. That was something. That was enough. It would have to be.

Summoning his strength, he pushed with all his might and shoved as hard as he could out of the locker. Skin ripped along his knees and thighs, his elbows. He could feel the flesh rending but kept going, knowing this was his one shot.

Finally, bloody and bruised, he collapsed out of the locker and onto the ground. It was probably covered in all manner of bacteria and parasites from the feet of the many athletes but all the same he felt like kissing it. After being stuck in the locker for close to six hours, his every muscle was sore. His bones were sore. He couldn’t move easily, and took a moment on the ground to twist his hips this way and that, stretching out his spine.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuuuuuck.”

Eventually, he would think about consequences. He would think about calling the police or the campus authorities. But for now, he was just happy to be out of that goddamn locker.

Slowly—very slowly—he stood up and stretched himself up. Vertebrae cracked and crinkled, his joints snapping back into their accustomed place. Not for the first time, he told himself he should pick up yoga and work on his flexibility. Then, being stuck in a locker would be no problem.

Of course, the entire idea was to not get stuck in a locker at all. Maybe self-defense classes?

The locker room was set up in a large u-shape with a thin partition separating the lockers and the showers. Right in front of the showers was a water fountain. He took a drink of it, still moving slowly, wondering if the doors were locked from the outside. He certainly hoped not.

Walking around, stretching out, examining his skinned knees and elbows, he decided that it was time to give the outside a go. He was hydrated and moving, and the worst of the ordeal, he was sure, was over.

But then something caught his eye.

There was something in the locker he had been stuffed in.

He knew it was “his” locker—it was the only one that was still open and unlocked. Approaching, disbelieving, he pulled the thing out.

It was a gun. It was shiny and orange and green, about as long as his forearm and as thick around as his fist. Heavy, though, dense. Great concave edges pushed forward on the barrel, overlapping each other, creating a sort of vacuum-y look. It had a small dial on the back end and then a tiny receptacle filled with some white fluid.

On the side was a name: J-Power BG450.

“The hell?”

There was no way it could have fit inside the locker with him. His ass had been directly on top of where it had been sitting, and he certainly didn’t have any rectal discomfort from sitting how he did.

That meant…someone was here!

He spun around, looking. “Hello? Hello? Who’s here?”

But there was no one. The gun stayed in his hand easily, the trigger soft and simple to pull. He didn’t pull it, but it was easy to tell just from the way it felt under his finger. It was obviously a toy of some kind, and that it was in the locker room was part of someone’s weird game.

Then, the door to the locker room opened.

The girl who came in was absolutely gorgeous. She had a lithe, svelte body full of smooth musculature and graceful movement. She wore tight athletic shorts and a cut-off tank top, the kind that showed off her fine display of long, sexy abs. Her face was incredibly sensual, pouty lips, bright green eyes, framed by a smashing complement of dirty blond hair. The one complaint a man could make—if he were to be so insensitive—was that her bee-sting breasts were just barely there.

“What are you doing here?” the girl asked. “Is that a gun?”

“What? No!” He stuffed the gun behind his back. “I’m sorry. I’m not…I was stuffed into a locker.” He pointed with his free hand. “That one. Chance Carter stuffed me in there. I only just got out.”

She flipped on the light, seeing him fully illuminated. He was scuffed and bruised, his knees and elbows still big bloody patches.

“I guess he did.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “My name is Betty. I’m a trainer.” She must have seen his quizzical look. “You know, the people who tape up players and stuff? They have me come in on the weekends and clean the lockers out.”

“There’s not janitorial staff for that?”

“Nope. Just me.” She shrugged. “Everybody’s got a duty. They make the freshmen do it so that we learn discipline or whatever. Why do you have a toy gun?”

“I…”

She knew about it already. It was useless to hide it. He took it out and showed it to her.

“I don’t even know. I just found it right before you came in. I’m not even sure what it is.”

She moved her hand forward to grab it and—without thinking—Roderick pulled the trigger. It was instinctual, reflexive; he didn’t want her to grab it and he couldn’t explain it.

A great wave of force left the gun, vibrating his arm and exiting the barrel in a soft, sweet-smelling sigh.

“What did…” Betty stumbled back, letting out a soft giggle. Her face was surprised, a soft, licking “O” shape on her lips. “What did you do…Master?”

Heavy, seductive eyes shined at him for a brief second and then she collapsed down in his arms to the floor.

* * * * *

Something was happening.

Something weird was happening, something weird and hot and right now and Roderick couldn’t believe that what he was seeing was actually part of his life.

The lockers were positioned against the walls of the locker room. In front of them all was a wooden bench where the athletes could sit and get dressed. He had Betty laying down on one such long bench, and he watched with utter shock as her body transformed into something straight out of his wet dreams.

First of all—her breasts. They were basically non-existent before. In her tight tank-top, she looked about as flat as your average twelve year-old boy, and though her body was incredibly fit, she was at a real lack for curves.

Now, though…her breasts were growing. They grew straight past handfuls and right into gobsmacking TITS, straining the fabric of her tight shirt so much that he’d had to use the scissors in her little bag to give her more room on top, cutting a line from the collar down to the center of the shirt. That had, with the blossoming power of her beautiful breasts, only encouraged a heavy v-line of cleavage to develop.

But that wasn’t all that was changing. Her hair, thick and short, was becoming thicker and long. Voluminous heavy locks of brilliantly shiny chestnut-and-blond hair spilled out from her head. Her skin became more tanned and shiny, her lips poutier, puffier, her every inch of body layered with achingly hot muscle tone. Her boyish hips and waist became suddenly incredibly womanly, pushing out into a beautiful hourglass shape.

“Wow,” he said, just looking at her. “Wow, wow, oh wow…”

What was happening? What had he done?

Obviously the gun had something to do with it. It was behind all of this somehow. But…that wasn’t possible, was it? A gun couldn’t just…just make a woman look like this, could it?

And then, there was what she had called him just before collapsing.

Betty had called him…she had said…

Master. She called me Master.

She slid upward on the bench, moaning and coming awake.

“Oh my god,” she said, her voice an achingly beautiful thing that could have texts written about it, ad infinitum, concerning the sound of true desire in the world. “I feel amazing. Thank you, Master.”

He backed up, feeling terrified. What had he done to this poor girl? She had been young and innocent. Now, she still looked young, but “innocent” was a term as far away from her as “masculine” or “ogre-ish.”

She was the very definition of soft femininity, looking at him with eager supplication and pushing forward on her knees. For just a moment, she slid herself up on her knees, waving out her long mass of incredible hair with her tits on full display. Roderick could feel himself beginning to drool, even as he backed up more, trying to make himself small against one of the lockers.

Betty pouted. “You look so stressed out. Here, sit back. I’ll take care of you.”

Pushing him down on the bench, dropping to her knees, Betty quickly pulled out Roderick’s cock and gasped in soft appreciation. His cock was average in girth, average in length, but she saw it and acted as though his was the most impressive, biggest cock she had ever laid eyes on. Her mouth slipped across it, plushy and soft and instantly warm. Right away he was hard, her tongue flicking fast around his length.

A low, murmuring moan of appreciation fled her body, every part of her vibrating.

She loved this.

Roderick had his hands in the air still, like someone was holding him under arrest. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get away with this.

He wasn’t sure, also, as Betty made it more and more clear that she was enjoying herself, why in the hell he was resisting so much. He’d never had a blowjob before. He’d barely even kissed girls before, and they were all drunk and probably only did it on a dare, even his ex-girlfriend.

But Betty, transformed though she was, was perfectly sober. She was loving her life, enjoying every second of slurping down his cock, moaning and urging her mouth forward like she was sucking on some kind of ambrosia-rod. Hot spurts of precum fled from his cock, eager to find their home in her belly, and she shivered with what was clearly orgasmic delight.

Her shorts, so tight and tiny on her widened hips and lengthened legs, were quickly becoming sopping wet. He knew this because she hugged against one of his legs, her heavy tits sliding over his thighs.

And was that…fucking milk?

Fucking milk coming from her tits, leaking everywhere?

It was.

He gulped, head sliding back, indulging in the incredible feeling of her velvet-soft lips on his cock.

That was a big kink of his. One that he had never thought would really be indulged anywhere in his life. But yes, Betty’s tits were definitely leaking milk through her shirt and all over his legs as she happily sucked his cock.

Slowly, his hands came down on her back. He slid them across her spine, fingers delicately feeling against her well-muscled back (she had to hold up those tits somehow) and pushing around the tightened fabric of her shirt. It was very weak, the fabric. He could see the threads of it coming undone. It wouldn’t take much to rip it off entirely. She’d probably appreciate it…

Before he knew what he was doing, he was ripping the shirt off. She moaned, sitting up off his cock and letting him tear it all the way off.

“God, I love it when you use your strength on me like that, Master.” She continued to stroke his cock as he worked on the shirt. Her milk squirted down around his cock and she rubbed it into the shaft. It was warmer than her mouth, somehow, and slippery smooth. “I love everything about you, Master. Just everything. You’re so perfect to me. I’m so glad you’re in charge of my life.”

“Y-yeah,” he said, getting into it now. “In charge.”

He could figure it all out later. What was happening. How to change her back. How to fix this mess. But for now…he figured what the hell. He was only going to live once, and if this opportunity never came his way again, he didn’t want to live in regret that he hadn’t gotten a milk-sloppy blowjob from the bustiest hot babe he’d ever seen in his life.

“Suck me off, Betty. Make Master happy. Make me cum down your throat.”

Her heated strokes increased as she moaned with ecstasy, her face more gorgeous than ever before. When she was happy, it made her more gorgeous. That smile, oh fuck.

“Yes, Master!” she nodded excitedly. “Anything you say!”

Her last words were stuffed and stifled by her mouth wrapping back around his cock. She didn’t have enough brainpower to realize that she ought not to talk with her mouth full.

Everything she did was like magic to his cock. She slurped up and down with increasing rapidity, her mouth working up and down and sucking, so hungry. Heavy droplets of milk shook from her tits, leaking down all over his lap, across his balls and thighs, soaking them in warmth and pleasure.

He had to come in her. There was no other option. He had to fill her throat and her mouth, her belly, her everywhere.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, thinking perhaps that he would give her one last out—maybe she wouldn’t want it.

Instead she stared up at him with loving green eyes—so vibrant, so emerald, like staring into some kind of alien forest—and he lost control, shuddering and exploding. It was a heavy load, more than he thought he'd ever cum before, and he spurted out for seconds and seconds, shuddering, knees trembling.

She swallowed down every last lick of it.

And when she was done, she slid against his knee, licking up the hot mess of his precum and cum and her very own milk. She was content, sated for now, like a cat. She even purred.

What the fuck was he going to do now?

His cock, already getting hard again from watching Betty at work, seemed to have a very good answer to that question.

* * * * *

April sighed, driving up to her usual Saturday-morning parking spot in front of the Athletics Center. It was just before 7 AM, and she was not quite awake yet. In her thermos was a fresh half-pot of very black coffee, the only thing that could kick-start her system after staying up and studying until 2 AM the night before.

This was her Saturday morning routine. It was tough being the cheerleading captain. Everyone thought it was glamour and glitz, full of parties and banging hot football players.

And there were parties. And she did currently date a hot football player, although they weren’t banging (much to Chance Carter’s chagrin). April was a virgin and planned on staying that way until marriage.

But much more often than any kind of fun, she had homework. She had homework on homework on homework, and then she had tests, and then she had practice and drills, and then she had early mornings for traveling to games, and then she had scheduling and planning and strategizing for competitions. Then, more homework, and many more drills.

She took a moment, stepping out of her car, and tied up her thick golden hair in a messy, loose, low-ponytail. Little tendrils of hair framed her face perfectly without her even trying. Her hair had always been compliant.

This particular Saturday morning, she had to sit in an empty coach’s office and watch videos for an hour before beginning her workout, which would last for another two hours. She had to stay in shape to be at the top—she wanted her cheer team to win the division this year—and for that, just drilling wasn’t enough.

She had to work out regularly to keep her body in tip-top cheering shape.

The heat of the sun, though it was not yet all the way up on the horizon, was already in full swing. She was glad she wore her tiny spandex shorts and her tight sports bra only. It would draw a ton of looks—too many, really, for her liking—when she went to workout on a regular day, but when the Athletic Center was sparsely populated on the weekends, it was actually a relief to workout in practically nothing.

She could sweat and drip as much as she wanted, not worrying about what she looked like or who was watching. Her body was fine as fuck and she would be lying if she said she didn’t know it or like it, but at the same time, that didn’t mean her body was for showing off. She just liked being in good shape; she enjoyed paying tribute to the temple of herself. That she was in terrific shape was a great benefit of that.

She looked down at herself, adjusting her bra. She had to admit, even working out alone, that it was a little small. Her tits were thick, buoyant 36C cups, and she was very used to long stares from men and women alike. In a bra like this, even she had to admit that she was practically inviting trouble. It positively crushed her tits, smooshing them, making them stand out like sweat warm bags of fuck ready to go at a moment's notice.

It was, she had to admit, a little fun getting all those stares sometimes. Her spandex shorts were so tight that they didn't cover the entirety of her sculpted teenage age.

Inside the Athletic Center, it was cool and quiet, the hum of air conditioning the only noise. At least, that’s what she thought at first—that’s what she was used to, after all, and there was so rarely anything else. Once she’d had to deal with a janitor who tried to flirt with her, mostly because on that day—like today—she’d worn her tiniest pair of black spandex shorts, the ones where her ass cheeks was half-visible. They were slutty as hell but they gave her great flexibility when she was doing her lunges.

But, after a moment inside, she realized it wasn’t entirely quiet. No—there were noises coming from inside the athletic center. Strange noises. Noises that reminded her of…

Once, when she still lived at home with her little brother, she’d come downstairs in the middle of the night for a snack. She saw him watching television, though with the way it was positioned, she couldn’t see what was on the screen. It sounded like a fight scene, all that grunting and swearing and heavy breathing.

“What are you watching?” she had asked. “Anything I’d like?”

Her brother was startled, jumping in the couch and covering himself suddenly with a blanket. It had been too dark for her to see his lap, but she made out his pajama bottoms on the floor.

It took her a week before she realized he had been watching some kind of porno.

That’s what these sounds reminded her of now. Heavy, hot breathing and grunting. Cries of female ecstasy filling the long corridor. Desperate pleas for more and more.

Curious, she walked down the hallway, feeling her neck and chest beginning to flush. Whatever was happening, it had a definite effect on the climate of the center. It was warm in here, and she was feeling warm. Heated, in fact, from the center up.

She’d never had sex before. It interested her vaguely as a sort of emotional exercise in commitment, but she certainly didn’t want to plunge all the way deep into it without being sure. Though April did want to wait for marriage—she truly did—she was also a hot-as-fuck teenage cheerleading goddess, and she was really, really attracted to Chance.

She was well aware that he would probably get her drunk enough to give up her virginity eventually, but April hoped it wasn’t for a while yet. She wanted him tested first, at least. She wasn’t sure he had the clap, but she was awfully sure she didn’t want it.

Pushing open the weight room door, she saw more or less exactly what she had been envisioning. A beautiful, big-titted young woman was being drilled thoroughly by a young man on top of a weight bench. She was on a decline, her head bopping up and down on the floor, with his thick cock driving into her harder and harder.

She was preternaturally gorgeous. Her breasts were enormous and buoyant, her skin shiny like new plastic.

The man saw April entering the room and abruptly dropped his lover—his date? His girlfriend?—down on the ground. She bonked her head on the weight room floor and slid over to one side, giggling inanely and licking her lips. Heavy, shiny milk dripped from her breasts.

“That was so good, baby,” she moaned. “Can I get your cum now?”

She moved her mouth forward to his naked cock. April watched a thick spout of precum spray off, as if encouraged to do so by the very proximity of the beauty’s mouth.

“Betty,” said the man, sliding a hand through her hair to keep her mouth at bay. “We have a guest.”

“Hiiiii,” said April. Her stance shifted this way and that.

She had never seen sex up this close before. It was…arousing, she realized. Really arousing. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. All that cum. And he had a big cock. She had seen Chance’s from time to time, and this guy’s was definitely bigger than his.

Not that that mattered. Not that she cared. But it was just the fact of the situation.

Her saliva on her lips was thick and warm.

“I don’t…” she gulped. “I don’t think you guys are supposed to be in here.”

“I’m sorry,” said the man. “My name is Roderick. You’re right. We’re not. You see, she just changed and…I couldn’t help myself. And I think it’s, well…I think I’m changing too.”

“Changed?”

There was a thick puddle of milk and precum on the floor. It looked so yummy. She felt like she could just drop onto her knees in front of it and lap at it like a cat. Then she’d be so full. So full and warm…

“—and then she was on her knees,” said Roderick. “Are you listening to me?”

“Listening?” April asked. “Oh. No. I guess not.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. What was wrong with her? She let out a soft laugh—though it was more of a giggle. Unbeknownst to her, her breasts bounced jollily. God, this guy was cute.

The bottom part of her mouth filled with drool.

“It’s all to do with this gun, see?”

He lifted it up off the nearby squat rack and showed it to her. It was shiny and futuristic-looking. Her fingers instinctively moved to touch it, but he pulled it away.

“He shot me with it,” said Betty. “And now I’m like, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. It’s super cool.”

The bimbofied brunette slid up onto Roderick’s body, kneeling, sliding a hand around his cock. “You should try it on her, baby.”

Roderick’s eyes closed, clearly enjoying Betty’s administrations on his huge member. Biting his lip, he shook his head and gently pushed her away.

“I don’t know what to do about it anymore,” he explained. “I tried to fire the gun again in here on her, maybe to reverse it all? But I think it just made the room itself get a little weird. I think it’s affecting me now too.”

His cock was so, sooo fucking big. And dripping all that precum. Like a river.

“You…too…” said April softly.

There were a thousand alarms going off in her head. She had to get out of there. But good god almighty, that beautiful bimbo-bopping boner he had! Christ!

“Hey, hold on,” he said, looking April up and down. “I know you, right? You’re friends with Wanda. You know Wanda, right?”

“Wanda?” she struggled to think. “Yeah, Wanda Nailor? Sure. She’s my roommate.”

“Yeah!” he nodded. “She’s my ex-girlfriend. God, I didn’t know she had such a gorgeous roommate.”

“Oh,” April tittered, wishing desperately she had worn something more alluring to the gym.

No, wait, what? She was there to work, not be alluring. She didn’t care how big this guy’s cock was or that it was growing by the second just from him looking at her and…

And oh fuck it was really growing, wasn’t it? Look at that. So hard.

Betty’s hand wrapped back around it. Her strokes were sure and constant. April felt a hard spike of jealousy.

“Do it,” said Betty. “Use the gun on her. She could bring you Wanda. Then we could all suck your cock…together. Wouldn’t that be nice, Master?”

“M-Master?” April asked.

There was a look in Roderick’s eyes she didn’t quite understand. A cold, calculating look combined with the heat of a man overcome with lust.

“Why is she calling you Master?”

“Because he is my Master,” said Betty. Her voice was a merry sing-song. “He’s my Master and I love him so much that I want him to have even more hot babes sucking on his cock and having his babies. Like you.”

“Like you,” said Roderick, his voice quiet. His eyes burned intensely on April.

Oh god, thought April. I thought his cock was hard before, but now it’s gigantic. I don’t know how I’m supposed to run away when his cock is so fucking hard and right there. Why, I could just drop on my knees and I’d be right there in front of it, right there ready to drop and take it in my body. Oh…oh my…

No!

What the fuck was she thinking? She was a virgin. Why were her nipples so hard? None of this made any goddamn sense.

“I don’t think,” said Roderick, holding the gun to his forehead and tapping it there, “I don’t think that I can just let you leave, April.”

“You can’t, Daddy,” Betty moaned. She was stood up now, biting his shoulder, smiling madly. God, that look on her face, like she was watching creation split apart, like she was powering through seventeen different acid trips at once. “You have to keep her here.”

Roderick approached her with the gun aimed directly at her. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew she wanted it desperately.

No—no! She didn’t want it! She was fucking terrified for her life! What was he going to do? Turn her into some cock-hungry worshipful fuckslave like what Betty had clearly become? Oh fuck, oh god! What if her titties got as big as Betty’s? Would she be as pretty as her then? Would she be able to suck a cock nearly as good as Betty could? She could only hope so. In fact—

Fuck! Why was her thinking so insane?

“No,” said April. “Please, don’t. Don’t do that. I don’t want to…don’t want to whatever it is. Please?”

She backed up against the door. There was nowhere to go. Desperately she tried to push against it. Why wouldn’t the fucking door open already?

“I think I should tell you I’m sorry, April,” he said. Betty stroked him harder and harder. His cum streamed out on the floor. “But, I’m really not.”

He raised the gun, and April finally was able to push the door open. She could feel a wave of heat and lust power into the air right behind her—flooding her panties, making her nipples somehow even more fucking erect.

But she was running. She was getting away! She sprinted down the hall, hearing Roderick call after her.

What was he saying?

It rhymed with “lop.” She slowed down, trying to catch it. It was so important to hear what he had to say. He was a Man, after all, and a good girl like her had to listen to a man otherwise she wasn’t a very good girl at all.

She slowed down to just a trot, almost just running in place. Now, she could hear him clearly.

“Stop!”

That’s what he was saying. Oh. Of course! She should stop.

“Turn around.”

She turned around slow. A part of her fought and fought hard, knowing what was coming. Knowing he was going to force her, that he was going to turn her into his willing, subservient fuckpet just like Betty. She could see Betty, still hanging on so beautifully to Roderick’s arm, clearly in love with her position as his trophy.

“D-don’t,” April said, smiling madly. It was the gun, she realized. She thought she outran it, but a part of it got her. It had like, a splash effect. Enough to make her obey. Enough to make her feel so…giggly.

She giggled, feeling her knees so weak.

“Kneel for me, sweety,” said Roderick.

And again she obeyed. He was such a Man. He was even more of a Man now. He had walked through the area that the gun had shot. That meant he was changing too. He was getting taller. More built. His cock somehow fucking larger than before, and it had already been bigger than she thought she could handle. Betty dropped to the tile floors beneath him, suckling at his heavy balls. A deep puddle of precum and milk formed on the floor almost immediately. Rivulets of white liquid streamed over her face.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous, April,” he said, stroking her cheek.

She tittered madly. That made her so happy. He thought she was gorgeous.

“I think I’m going to make you my number one girlfriend,” he said. “Even higher on the list than Wanda. But I still want to fuck Wanda.”

Of course he did. Wanda was fucking hot. She was banging sexy and could definitely use a dose or two of this beautiful fuck-ray gun her Man held. But that April was rated even higher? God, that was so cool!

He pointed the gun at her temple. “No moving, now. I’m going to make this permanent. You’re going to be my very best bimbo pet, doll.”

April leaned forward into the gun, smiling beautifully. Anything to be gorgeous for a Man.

And then everything went pink.

* * * * *

Wanda, despite her very best efforts at remaining calm, was tense. Her body was rigid in her car, her fists clenched, her brow furrowed, her guts wrenched, and yes indeed, her butt cheeks clenched. She was desperately worried about April, who had called her to this address on the far side of town.

It was a really, really odd message that the normally serious cheerleader had left for her.

“Hi, um, Hot Tits? I mean…” April had giggled. “Wanda! Wanda baby! You gotta cum. I mean you gotta come over. To my friend’s place. We’re…doing drinks! And some drugs! That’s why I sound so silly. Anyway, it’s like, um, super important that you cum. Come over, I mean. Because it’s fun! Super fun.”

Then there was a three minute process in which April listed the three numbers and two words of the address, giggling and stumbling over syllables at every turn.

Wanda was fairly certain she heard a healthy moaning in there more than once—like, a sexual moan.

Why was April around someone moaning sexually? Why was April acting like such a fucking ditz?

Like, sure, drinking and drugs could explain some of that. They could explain a lot of that, actually, but April didn’t drink. She didn’t do drugs, certainly!

She was a fucking valedictorian at her high school and she wouldn’t even eat yogurt because of the pasteurization. The thought of her drinking a beer—or a whiskey, or any kind of liquor—was super strange and akin to the thought of an anteater swallowing a steak. The thought of her taking drugs, though, was completely inconceivable, even in analogy. It was like the sun taking a supermodel on a date—like how the fuck would that even work? Outside of just saying it, you couldn’t imagine it even happening.

So, Wanda was nervous. She stepped out of the car, looking up at the house she had stopped in front of. It was nice, she had to admit. The lights weren’t on, but it was only early in the evening and you could imagine someone getting carried away with drinking (or drugging, or fucking, or whatever) and forgetting to turn the lights on like they should.

Wanda was eighteen years old and a virgin and had barely gotten drunk herself. Once, when she was still in high school, she went to a party and had WAY too much vodka and ended up throwing up for three hours straight. That episode was still fresh on her mind—and still fresh on her stomach. Whenever she thought about a drink, her tummy got upset and wouldn’t let her swallow anything for a while, until the desire to imbibe alcohol was safely gone.

It hurt her some socially, but it wasn’t so bad. She ran track and cross-country and getting drunk wasn’t exactly on the high list of priorities for her.

She was a tall girl, in good shape from all the running, and sported a hefty pair of 38D tits that she knew were the reason she hadn’t been able to break the state record last year. More and more, she was heavily considering breast reduction surgery. They just got in her way!

Her ex-boyfriend, Roderick, had clearly loved the size of her tits, but then, he had been a loser anyway. The only they had in common was that they went to the same college from out of town and they had both been too nervous and scared about being in a new place to be there alone. They had gone out for like a month and a half and the second she actually called him her boyfriend, right at the forty-day mark, she knew it was a mistake and that they had to end it.

He wasn't even fucking man enough to kiss her, god.

If she wanted to hang out with someone and have him ogle her tits all night, she could….well, she could do something. She didn’t need him, was the point. He hadn’t been much of a boyfriend and he hadn’t given her much of a break-up.

Kind of spineless, really. He just stood there and took it. She would have respected him more, maybe even been attracted to him, if he’d actually put up a fight and stood up to her. But no, meek as ever, he just numbly accepted it and stared sadly at her tits, probably wishing he could touch them for the first time in a way that wasn’t “accidentally” falling on her to cop a feel.

Fucking pervert.

God forbid he ever take a look at her legs, or compliment her on her hair (which was thick and black and long), or admire her eyes (which other girls always said were pretty, bright and ocean blue), or fuck—say something about her that wasn’t look-related at all! She was always getting As in English and other liberal arts classes and really loved to watch cooking shows. Why not take a little interest in some of that stuff, huh?

Whatever, why was she thinking about him? She had a friend to save.

Wanda huffed, gathering her strength, and approached the front door of the house.

As she approached, right away, she knew something was wrong. From inside, she could hear moans, but they weren’t like, pained moans or anything. No, these were moans of pleasure. Pure, unadulterated pleasure, slow and soft, eager and pliant, happy and servile.

Did she really want to go in there?

April could be in trouble. Someone could have drugged her. Did Wanda have a choice?

She didn’t.

Mustering all her willpower, she knocked the door, wishing just as she rapped on the door that she had called for back-up. Too late now.

But no one answered the door. She knocked again, harder this time, and the door simply pushed inward, creaking open.

She stepped inside. The air was hot and sticky, but strangely comfortable. She felt like she had stepped on another planet.

A very warm planet…one that was making her warm inside.

Thoughts of leaving slowly began to dissolve, like a cliff-side in front of an ocean of acid rain.

She entered, appropriately, into a tall entryway. To her left was a den with two recliners and a big television set. To her right was a dining room with a long table, totally empty, the room dark. And then in front of her was a living room—taller still than than the entry way, with a great vaulted ceiling. It had a fire place and three couches in front of it.

On one of the couches she saw the back of a man’s head. It was lolling back, clearly he was enjoying himself about something. She stepped forward, feeling meek and strange now. Her shoulders shifted forward, pressing her breasts together. They were wet with sudden, sticky sweat. There were soft moans emanating through the house, the source of them appearing to be directly where the man was.

“H-hello?” she asked. “I’m sorry…sorry to interrupt. But I’m looking for a friend of mine, April?”

There was a soft giggling and an even louder series of moans.

“She’s in here,” said the man. “Come and see, Wanda.”

Wanda stepped forward, pulled by the power in the man’s voice. There was something about him that was totally undeniable. And...familiar.

“I’m sorry?” she said, her feet moving of their own accord. “Do I know you?”

From behind her, she heard the front door close. When she turned to look, she saw a tall shape fluttering through the shadows and then a heated series of delighted giggles.

She stopped, looking at the closed front door. She should leave. It was probably the best idea. If she left now, that would be the best thing.

“Wanda,” the Man said again. “Come here. I have something I want you to see.”

He talked to her like he knew her. Why would he know her?

She just had to find out. Plus, his voice was so commanding…and there was that crazy scent in the air, that hot sexual scent that made her so curious to find out more…

She walked around the edge of the couch and gasped. She hadn’t known exactly what she had been expecting to see, but somehow seeing it made her feel more shocked and aroused than anything she had felt before.

April was on her knees between the Man’s legs, her mouth sliding urgently up and down a cock that was easily twelve inches long. Wanda watched with growing, terrified arousal as April’s long tongue slid up the Man’s enormous shaft and wrapped around the head before eagerly slurping him down. At first, Wanda thought—No, god, don’t do it! You’ll choke!

But she watched as April not only did not choke, but instead took the entire thick wet shaft down her throat with ease. The bulge of the shaft was evident in April’s mouth and then in her throat, magnified each time she swallowed to create an ever-hotter vacuum of perfect suction. It was like her entire body had been reformed for this Man’s pleasure.

In fact—April was reformed. What the fuck?

It was hard to tell with her kneeling down and wearing such tall, ridiculously pink platform heels—the heels at least five inches tall—but Wanda could swear April's legs were longer. Her waist, already crazy tiny from all that working out, was certainly more narrow, and her hips looked even wider than before on what had already been a smashing hourglass-perfect frame.

What capped it off, though—even more than her sensationally long, thick new hair, moving and sliding almost as if it were a living, breathing being of softness and pleasure—were her tits. They were enormous, no longer the already huge and beautiful 36Cs she had boasted before. They were easily stretching into the E cup range, and there was milk streaming out of them and landing all over the couch and floor—and especially on the Man’s cock and body.

“What…what the…the fuck…”

“She’s amazing at this,” said the Man. “I haven’t even fucked her yet like I did to Betty. I’ve just been having her drain me dry. I don’t think she can do it, though. I’ve got cum for days, it feels like.”

That voice…sounded familiar. There was a light switch on the wall nearby, and Wanda flipped it. It was…it was…

…it was Roderick?

“What in the hell is happening?” asked Wanda, scared and confused.

Her body was betraying her with how insatiably turned on she felt. She couldn’t explain it, but knowing that it was Roderick’s cock April was sucking, she suddenly felt extraordinarily jealous.

But it just didn’t make sense that it was Roderick. Roderick was a geek, a goon, he was twenty pounds overweight and in bad need of a few years at the gym to get rid of all the extra flub around his painfully average body.

This guy, though, this Man, this Male, was a fucking stud. All he shared in common with Roderick were facial features, and even those had hardened to become more masculine and strong. He had a smoking-hot six pack and thick chest and arm muscles. He looked more like Captain America than Roderick.

And yet it was undeniably him.

“How did you…what did you…I don’t…”

Wanda shook her head, holding her temple. Everything was so hot, so weird, so disturbing. She felt like she’d walked onto the set of some horrifically arousing porno.

“I changed her, Wanda.” He looked down at April, stroking her silken hair and eliciting a long moaning purr from the young goddess. “I didn’t have to. But I did. And now…I’m going to change you. You’re going to worship my cock just like her, and you’re going to love it.”

“The fuck I am, you fucking creep!”

She took a hold of April and dragged her off of Roderick’s cock. April whined like a sad puppy, her tongue reaching out and hoping for just seconds more of a delicious taste from her Master. “N-n-nooooo!” she moaned, fighting Wanda every step of the way.

April was always stronger than Wanda. It seemed that whatever transformation she had gone through had allowed her to be stronger than ever. She pushed Wanda away and slid back down to her knees in the puddle of milk and cum on the floor, quickly lapping up his cock. She stared with vicious, sneering eyes at Wanda, sliding her mouth and tongue up and down her Master’s cock as she stroked him with almost-vengeful force.

“I love him, Wanda,” she said, her voice a sing-song whisper. “Don’t make me leave. Don’t try. You’ll understand soon. He’ll make you just like me.” She giggled. “Well, not just like me. He said I’m hotter than you, so I’ll be his Favorite. But you can join in…sometimes.”

Wanda backed up now, terrified. Whatever Roderick had done to April had seriously warped her warp drive.

“I-I-I-I’ll report you,” she said, hands scrambling around the walls around her, looking for something to use as a weapon. A lamp, a vase, a trite collectible, something.

Roderick lifted up a weird, shiny ray gun from the couch. It had been buried in the cushions before. April looked at it with wide, big, happy eyes, enthusiastic eyes, needy eyes—wanting to watch it at work. Wanda gulped.

“Please no…” she moaned, knowing what was coming.

He pulled the trigger…and nothing happened.

Looking down at the device, Roderick was clearly annoyed. He kept pulling the trigger, aiming it straight at Wanda, bopping it this way and that.

Wanda let out a relieved laugh, and then remembered suddenly that she should run. Even if his gun—his device, his whatever-it-was—didn’t work, he was huge and powerful and he could probably overpower her easily.

She immediately started off—if there was one thing Wanda could do well, and for ages, it was run. Her car was just outside and she was already sliding her hands in her pocket for her keys. But then a strong, warm, big-titted grip slid over her arms and pressed against her chest.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetling.”

Roderick nodded, smiling at Wanda. “Thank you, Betty.”

Wanda shifted and twisted, trying desperately to work her way out of the grip, but it was iron tight. This Betty, whoever that was, was strong as hell. Wanda would have been stunned to see the pencil-thin big-titted supermodel-esque beauty behind her.

“I guess we’ll just have to restrain you,” said Roderick, hips bucking as he emptied into April's mouth, “until I figure this thing out. I certainly can’t let you go now.”

Wanda gulped. She didn’t like the sound of that at all.

* * * * *

Up until half an hour ago, it had all been moving beautifully. It was the simplest thing in the world to tell Betty to lead him back to her parents’ house. They were gone for the weekend, and any mess that he and his new slaves made, he could just order his girls to clean up.

Would they know how? A good question, but one he hadn’t been overly concerned about. He was too busy enjoying the poetic justice of fucking the shit out of Chance Carter’s hot-shit cheerleader girlfriend to really think all that much about other stuff like practicalities. And goddamn, she was hot. He’d thought Wanda was sexy, but April was really something on another level.

And she fucking belonged to Chance. That fucking prick. Not that April knew that anymore. He'd ordered her to forget about him—and immediately, immediately, she'd said, “Forget who, Master?”

Good. Fucking. Girl.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to fuck Wanda still, though. Fuck her and make her his, forever.

If there were any questions, he surmised, he could just use his gun.

But the gun wasn’t working, now. When he pulled the trigger before, he had felt actual force in his hands—a sort of shock wave of lust that emanated out and either filled an area or funneled into the nearest woman.

Now, though, it was just like pulling the plastic trigger of some cheap dollar store toy gun.

Wanda was tied down on the couch, her hands wrapped behind her back with a couple of belts from the closet of Betty’s dad. This was also how he had secured her legs. He’d left her ungagged, but she was choosing not to speak. Perhaps she was too enraptured with the sight of Betty and April taking long, slow turns sliding their beautifully huge tits up and down his ultra-sensitive cock, leaking their heavy milk all over his lower half. His balls, thick and enlarged, pulsed with babymaking energy.

God, but they were beautiful. All he wanted in the world now was to do the same to Wanda as he had done to them.

Three, and that would be enough. Almost too much, really. A whole hell of a lot to explain to the rest of the people in his life, along with the changes to himself. But doable, probably. Any more than that, and he would have more than just a harem, he’d have to spend all his time covering one end so that he could fuck the other.

Her tits were so huge, so perfect. April’s were bigger than hers now, but Wanda’s would probably get bigger once he used the Bust Gun on her.

That’s what he was calling it, after the label on the side. The J-Power BG450. “BG” could easily stand for “Bust Gun.”

And “J-Power…”

Huh.

The little receptacle on the back end of the gun was empty. He’d noticed it going down, but hadn’t really put two and two together. The substance that had been in the receptacle must have been some kind of fuel. It had been creamy and white, sort of like—

“Jizz? Jizz power? Could that really be it?”

“Wazzat, Master?” Betty asked, her mouth slobbering over the head of his cock.

“Nobody talked to you, girl,” said April, pushing Betty down and sliding his thick rod in between her massive tits again. “Master’s busy. Let him think.”

She slipped her mouth over his cockhead even as she rubbed her tits hard against the sides of his cock, her body eminently flexible and his shaft so impressively long. Her eyes shined up at her Master, knowing she had done rightly by silencing Betty. The former trainer meekly returned her mouth to her Master's balls, sucking there with puffy, hot lips.

To really do the experiment right, he needed to cum. Luckily, with a beauty like April servicing his cock, an orgasm wasn’t ever that far away.

“Come on, baby,” he said to April. “Make me cum. Get me to fucking cum like the good little slave you are.”

He pushed her back down onto the ground. Betty immediately took up a spot next to him, kissing his shoulder and pushing him forward with a hand on his hips as he drove his cock into April’s tits.

It didn't take him long. He could basically cum on command, now. A masculine, alpha god.

Spurting wildly, he emptied out onto April’s heavy, enormous breasts. The thick load landed all over her amazing, milky tits but also on her chin and lips. Smiling as she tried to lick it up, Roderick scooped up a healthy portion with a finger and stuffed it into the gun's receptacle. He did this again and again, April pouting every time, until he finally had the gun full.

“Bring her to me,” he said to his slaves.

Obeying immediately, they stood up off their knees and began moving Wanda across the room, pushing her down before their Master. She landed in a thick puddle of cum and milk, squirming at the sensation of it.

“Please…” she said, struggling still. “Please, Roderick. Don’t do this. You don’t have to. I won’t tell anyone.”

“You won’t, huh?” He got down on her chest, his thick cock landing between her breasts. “You won’t tell anyone how I transformed two young women into my sex slaves? That’ll just fly right under the radar?”

He could see how much his new body turned her on. She was blushing a deep red, her pale skin blossoming. He could smell the wetness of her pussy.

Her face twitched. “…yes?”

“Come on, Wanda. You know I don’t have a choice anymore. This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to make you my dedicated, eager, loving sex slave. You’ll apologize for breaking up with me. You’ll beg me to fuck your tits whenever I want, however I want. You’ll beg me to get you pregnant, just because it’s hot. And then I’ll cum in your beautiful pussy and you’ll call me Master for…oh, the rest of your life. How’s that?”

The look she shot up at him was pure hatred. It only turned him on more. Soon, she wouldn’t even have that emotion left inside her—not for him, at least. “You’re a monster.”

He ripped open her sweater, the thick flesh of his cum-soaked rod sliding across the buoyant valleys of her enormous tits.

“Maybe so,” he said. “But I’m the monster who’s in charge of your life from now on.”

He put the gun to her head.

“No, please, Roderick, baby—don’t! You don’t have to—you don’t—n-n-no!”

The gun thumped, a heavy wave of lust and pleasure filling the room and siphoning straight into Wanda. Her eyes closed, her head lolled for about a minute. Drool, heavy and thick, spilled out of her mouth. He watched as her body began to change, his cock becoming even harder as it did. Betty and April slid their hands around his shaft, stroking as he witnessed his ex-girlfriend/new fuckslave come into her own.

Her thick dark hair become glossy and thick, like some plastic porn star. It stretched down past her ass. Like Betty, like April, her face became intensely sexual, her eyes growing, her cheekbones becoming more prominent, her lips puffing up considerably. Tits ballooned outward, waist shrunk, legs lengthened, and every part of her became more of his perfect bimbo slave.

Slowly, her face shook back awake, thick soft eyelashes fluttering. She turned up to him with heavy-lidded lust.

“Please Master,” she licked her puffy lips with a pure pink tongue. “Won’t you fuck my tits and then my cunt so you can make me your pregnant slut? I need it so bad, Daddy. Please?”

He smiled. “That’s more like it.”

Easily, he ripped the bindings off her body and then the rest of her clothes. She was still changing as he did it. His cock shoved easily between her massive breasts—milking already—and covered in more milk as Betty and April leaned in on either side and slid their hot tits on top of his cock and Wanda's tits.

Fucking her tits was everything he’d ever wanted and more. More, especially, because of the way they were growing as he fucked them. They had started out as monumentally large tits, a pair that any bust-wanting girl would kill to have. Now they were stupendous, great basketballs of fuckflesh designed entirely for him.

He jammed his cock against Wanda's mouth, her needy lips sliding against his shaft, urging him forward, urging him to fuck even more of her face. She could take him inside her mouth, his cock was so thick and long, her puffy hot slick lips pouring sugary love on his cockhead like it was a fucking popsicle. His hands pushed deep on her tits—and then on the backs of April and Betty, loving the perfect pressure they provided as he thrust his hips into his little fuckgirl's face.

But he couldn’t stop there. Oh, no. He needed to fuck her too.

He needed her fucking pregnant.

He shot off a huge load of cum—on command, because he was an Alpha Male—covering Wanda's face in thick white stickiness. He continued to cum as he slid down her body, shooting all over her tits and tight, thin torso. Then, without warning, without waiting, without asking, he shoved straight into her willing bimbo cunt.

Straightaway he pounded through all virginal resistance, eliciting screams of orgasm from Wanda.

“Fuck!” she moaned. “Master! Oh my god! You're so good! You're so good! Oh my g-go-god!”

She was fucking slick and wet and tight, so tight. Tighter maybe even than Betty, holy fuck. Roderick felt his control slipping, his balls slapping hard against her taut ass cheeks.

April, at Roderick’s indication, slid on top of Wanda’s face so that the newly-made bimbo could lick his favorite’s pussy. Wanda stopped her moans—or at least, transferred their energy into licking April's pussy at Roderick's insistence. Betty watched the proceedings on her knees with wide, jealous eyes, squeezing her milky tits into a pool on the floor and finger-fucking her slick, heated cunt.

“Fuck her cunt, Master!” April cried. “Get her pregnant! Oh fuck, yes Sir, please! Make her your pregnant lovefuckslave and get those big fucking milky titties even bigger!”

Betty, taking initiative, took position underneath his balls, licking and adoring them, savoring each sweet taste of his precum and Wanda’s juices as they leaked down from their point of joining.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growled in April’s face. “I’m gonna fucking fill her up. I’m gonna get her so fucking pregnant, and then I’m coming for you.”

“Do it,” April moaned, kissing him heatedly. Her tongue ran in and out of his lips. “Do it, please! Fucking fill her up. Oh shit, yeah. Fill her up and then do the same to me! Do it please, baby! Please, Master!”

He kissed her long and hard, his hard chest melding with her tit-heavy expanse, milk spreading down his body and leaking all over Wanda.

But he wasn’t thinking of her. That was her punishment for leaving him. Later...he would fuck her and think about her. But not this first time. He was thinking of April instead…and already had his designs on getting her even more pregnant than Wanda. He wondered if his new cock could will twins into existence in a hot bimbofied babe’s womb.

That was it. That was when he erupted.

His load was thick and heavy. What felt like gallons of cum spilled out of him. Betty licking up every last drop, her face and hair covered in his thick, hot liquid. He utterly filled Wanda, no doubt getting her pregnant with his bare cock. That was right. That was what he deserved.

Wanda came. They all came—witnessing their Master's pleasure. They were good little bimbo slaves and cumming was what they did when he was cumming too. They shook, vibrated, and squealed, their voices filling the house with praise of their Man.

Slowly, he exited Wanda's body, taking April into his grip and pulling her down to the ground with him. They both were laughing, delirious with happiness, kissing happily. This was a dream come true for both—though the dream was fairly new for April.

He wondered briefly—could the bust gun make them even hotter? Could he make them want to fuck even more?

It was a scary thought, as they were already so painfully hot and so clearly in need of a good fucking from him all the time. But it was also an enticing one. As he turned to grab the gun, though, there was a strange ripping sound in the air. The light around the bust gun began to bend and warp, and as he reached for it, his fingers moved through wobbly slick air. The gun disappeared entirely.

Teleported somewhere?

Maybe that was how it had arrived for him? The person before him had used it for everything he needed, and then the gun moved on to the next needy person. Like…like an errant knight, or something like that.

Oh well. Three fuckslaves was enough, wasn’t it?

Certainly.

Probably too much. He’d have to kick Chance Carter’s ass pretty soon. That idiot fuck would want April back. But, Roderick felt very confident in his ability to do it.

He could probably fuck up Chance and stuff him in a locker, and then make Chance watch while April sucked Roderick's cock.

That made him groan with lust.

“What’s the matter, baby?” April asked him, smiling brilliantly at him. She was so in love.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

She slid down on his cock, taking it in her hands to see if he was still hard. Much to her delight, he was.

“Bend over,” he told April. “We’re just getting started.”

His new, favorite slave moaned with delight.

# # #

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