I'm hustling across the quad after Sociology 101, trying to look casual while speed-walking to catch up with Kingston. He's this impossibly cool junior who actually nodded at me last week when I held the door for him at the student center. Today he actually slowed down when he heard me calling out "Hey!" Which, honestly, is a miracle considering I probably sound like a choking seagull.
"What's good, freshman?" Kingston adjusts his designer backpack, managing to make even that simple movement look smooth. A few of his Omega Psi brothers wave as they pass, and I try not to stare too obviously at how effortlessly they all seem to float through life.
"Just, uh, wanted to say great point you made in class. About the social construct thing." I'm already sweating, even though it's only 85 degrees, which for Summer City, Florida is practically winter.
Kingston chuckles. "Man, I was half asleep in there. But good looking out." He starts walking again, and I fall in step beside him, trying to match his easy stride. "You living in Franklin Hall, right? Seen you around there."
My heart practically leaps out of my chest. He's noticed me? "Yeah! Yeah, fourth floor. It's pretty cool. The, uh, communal bathrooms are an experience though." I immediately regret mentioning bathrooms. Who talks about bathrooms?
"That's rough. I remember freshman year. My girl used to come visit and she *hated* that setup." He shakes his head, grinning.
"Oh yeah, same with my girlfriend!" The words tumble out before I can stop them. I've never even held hands with a girl, but suddenly I'm claiming to have a girlfriend? What is wrong with me?
Kingston raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely interested. "For real? She go here too?"
"No, she's uh, back home." My mouth is apparently operating independently from my brain now. "In Tampa." Why did I say Tampa? We're only two hours from Tampa. This is already a disaster.
"What's her name?"
"Violet." At least that came out smooth. I've actually thought about that name a lot, imagining my dream girl. But now I'm sweating even more.
"Violet? That's different. She fine though?"
"Oh yeah, totally fine. Like, really fine." I try to sound casual, but my voice cracks on 'fine.'
Kingston's lips twitch. "What she look like? You got pictures?"
"My phone actually broke last week, getting it fixed." The lie comes surprisingly easy. "But she's like... she's got this amazing..." I gesture vaguely with my hands, trying to indicate curves without being crude.
"Body crazy? I feel you." Kingston nods appreciatively. "What's she working with though? My girl's got like a 36-24-38 situation."
I panic-remember some numbers I saw on a video game character creation screen. "Violet's like... 44-24-46?" It comes out like a question.
Kingston actually stops walking, his eyes wide. "Hold up. You telling me your girl's got measurements like a G-cup Instagram model with a waist smaller than my little sister? Built like an anime character?" He looks both impressed and deeply skeptical.
"Uh... yeah?" I'm dying inside, realizing I've just described someone who'd have trouble walking through doors. "She, uh, does a lot of squats?"
"So what's she do? She in school?"
"She's... taking a gap year." I'm getting in deeper by the second. "She's really into... cooking. Makes these amazing Korean-Mexican fusion dishes." Why did I make her a fusion chef? I don't know anything about either cuisine.
"Korean-Mexican fusion?" Kingston stops walking, turning to face me fully. "Like what?"
"Like... kimchi tacos?" I've never had kimchi in my life. "With this special sauce she invented." I'm dying inside.
"That's wild. She should come visit, cook for the brothers. We do these Sunday dinners at the house..." Kingston's eyes are twinkling in a way I don't quite trust.
"Oh yeah, totally! She's actually..." My mind races. "She's coming next weekend!"
Why did I say that? WHY DID I SAY THAT?
Kingston breaks into a wide smile. "Perfect. Sunday dinner's at 6. Bring your girl, Percy.
He claps me on the shoulder and walks away, leaving me standing there, realizing I've just promised to produce not only a girlfriend, but a smoking hot, impossibly proportioned, Korean-Mexican fusion chef girlfriend... in nine days.
I'm so screwed.
Back in my dorm room, I collapse onto my bed, watching my roommate Stuart methodically organize his collection of anime figurines by height, series, and release date. He's wearing his usual attire: a T-shirt with a complex math equation that's supposed to be funny (I think?), and cargo shorts that could probably hold enough supplies for a small arctic expedition.
"Stuart," I groan into my pillow, "I really messed up."
"Did you try to use 'yeet' in conversation again?" He adjusts his thick-rimmed glasses without looking up from his figurine spreadsheet.
"Worse. So much worse." I roll over and stare at the ceiling, where Stuart has mapped out the entire Star Wars galaxy in glow-in-the-dark stars. "I told Kingston I have a girlfriend."
"Stuart's hand freezes mid-figurine-adjustment. "Kingston Rhodes?" He says it like he's naming a mythical creature. His voice does that thing where it starts low and ends somewhere only dogs can hear. "The Kingston Rhodes who won three intramural championships? The Kingston Rhodes whose Instagram post about protein shakes got liked by The Rock? The Kingston Rhodes who—" he frantically opens his laptop and pulls up a complex spreadsheet titled 'Summer City University Social Hierarchy v4.2.1' "—ranks at the ABSOLUTE APEX of my social influence matrix?"
"You... have a spr—"
"Of course I have a spreadsheet!" Stuart's eyes are wild behind his glasses. "Kingston Rhodes exists in a social stratum so far above us that we technically shouldn't even be able to perceive him! We're like... like single-celled organisms gazing upon a god! He's dated THREE Instagram models! His father invented that thing that goes in the other thing that makes your car whatever!" He grabs my shoulders. "Percy. Percy. How are you even alive? How did you SPEAK to him?"
I explain everything - Violet, the Korean-Mexican fusion cooking, the measurements that I'm pretty sure would make it impossible for a person to walk upright. Stuart's eyes get wider with each detail.
"And now," I continue, my voice cracking, "Kingston's telling everyone she's coming to cook for their Sunday dinner. He keeps texting me about it. I show him my phone.
Kingston's latest message reads: 'Yo my boys are HYPED about Sunday. Violet's gonna be a legend. BTW if these tacos hit like you say, we might have to fast-track you for membership to keep em coming 👀'
"Did you know my dad was Omega Psi president here in '92?" I add miserably. "He still wears his class ring. Keeps asking when I'm going to 'continue the legacy.' He already thinks I'm a disappointment because I chose Computer Science instead of Business."
Stuart pushes his glasses up thoughtfully. "Have you considered the logical solution? Learn to cook Korean-Mexican fusion cuisine in..." he checks his Star Trek chronometer watch, "eight days, fourteen hours, and twenty-three minutes?"
I bolt upright. "That's... that's actually not the worst idea? I mean, I could say Violet couldn't make it, but she sent her cooking?"
My brief moment of hope is interrupted by another text from Kingston: 'Just told my girl about Violet's measurements. She says that's 🧢 but I defended you. Can't wait to see who's right 😂'
I sprint to our mini bathroom and throw up.
When I emerge, Stuart is hunched over his laptop, typing furiously. "Percy. PERCY. I've got it." His glasses are actually fogging up with excitement. "You know how those X-Change pharmacies are on every corner now? The ones where basic bros go to see what they'd look like as girls for a weekend? Amateur hour. That's like transformation tech from five years ago."
He pulls up a website that looks like it was designed by someone who learned HTML in a fever dream.
"But THIS... this is next level. InstaGirl GoodGirl BE-spoke."
The site's spinning graphics and comic sans text hurt my eyes. "What am I looking at?"
"The solution to your problems! X-Change just gives you your gender-swapped genetics. But InstaGirl..." He clicks through pages of broken English and suspicious popup ads. "You can customize EVERYTHING. Height, measurements, even beauty marks! And they're having a student discount!"
I stare at the screen. "Stuart, this looks incredibly sketchy."
"Of course it's sketchy! All the best biochemistry is sketchy! Look—" He points to a wall of customer reviews, all suspiciously written in the same enthusiastic tone. "They guarantee exact specifications for 24 hours. More than enough time for your dinner."
"And you're willing to take this sketchy pill for me?" I ask hopefully.
Stuart looks at me like I just suggested we delete his anime collection. "Are you INSANE? I have a raid scheduled in Final Fantasy XIV this weekend! I'm the guild's main tank! Do you have ANY idea how long it took me to optimize my Paladin rotation?"
"So..."
"So YOU'D have to take it." He's already pulling up the order form. "Come on, what were those measurements again? 44-24-46? And we'll need to specify cooking abilities... oh look, they have a 'Special Skills Package' add-on!"
"Stuart, this is insane. It's a Chinese website selling body transformation pills!"
"With a student discount! And look - free shipping on orders over $100!" He's practically vibrating with excitement. "This is our chance to actually interface with the apex of the social hierarchy! To transcend our... our plankton-like existence!"
I watch him input my measurements, height, and credit card information with terrifying efficiency. Under "Special Skills," he selects "Master Chef (+$49.99)."
"Stuart, stop—"
"Done!" He hits submit with a flourish. "3-5 business days shipping. Just in time!"
Five days later, a small package arrives.
It's a sleek black box with holographic designs that shift and shimmer as I turn it in my hands. The InstaGirl logo is emblazoned on the front in a font that looks like it was designed by a robot with a fondness for neon.
I open the box gingerly, half-expecting it to explode or release a cloud of sketchy chemicals. Inside, nestled in a bed of black foam, is a single yellow pill. It gleams under the light, almost pulsing with promise (or is that just my anxiety?).
Beside the pill is a folded sheet of instructions covered in broken English and what I can only assume are motivational slogans. "Become the Best You That You Can Be!" proclaims one line. "Unleash Your Inner Goddess Potential!" says another. I'm pretty sure I see a misspelling of "mitochondria" at one point.
I unfold the sheet fully and my new DNA sequence stares back at me, printed in shimmering holographic ink along the border.
I feel slightly nauseous as I set the pill and instructions aside. This is insane. I'm not actually going to take this thing, am I?
My phone buzzes with a text from Kingston: "Yo, the bros are stoked for Sunday! Can't wait to meet your girl 🔥"
I start typing a response, my thumbs hovering over the screen. "About that... Violet actually can't make it. But she's sending her famous kimchi tacos!"
I stare at the message, trying to convince myself it's believable. Before I can hit send, my phone starts ringing. It's my dad.
"Percy! Just got off the phone with Bill Rhodes. Says you're coming to the Omega Psi dinner with your new girlfriend!" His voice is a mix of excitement and something else I can't quite place. Pride, maybe?
"Uh, yeah, about that—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"I knew you had it in you, son! An Omega man, just like your old man. And bringing a girl who can cook? You're already ahead of where I was at your age!" He chuckles. "You know, that's how I met your mother. She made the best damn lasagna..."
He launches into a story I've heard a thousand times, about how mom's cooking won over the brothers and secured his spot in the frat. I make noncommittal noises, my eyes locked on the yellow pill.
"Anyway, I'm just proud of you, son. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye on things, but... well, this feels like a step in the right direction."
My throat feels tight. "Thanks, Dad. That... that means a lot."
We say our goodbyes and I slump back in my chair, the weight of expectations crushing me. Stuart looks up from his laptop, where he's been furiously typing this whole time.
"Was that your dad?"
I nod miserably.
"Percy, if you pull this off, you're basically guaranteed a spot in Omega Psi. Do you have any idea what that could mean for your social status? For OUR social status?"
He gestures to his social hierarchy spreadsheet, where my name has been tentatively moved up a few rows.
I stare at the pill, my stomach churning. The stakes have never been higher. If I do this, if I somehow pull off this insane charade... my dad will be proud. I'll be an Omega man. I'll finally be someone on this campus.
If I fail? I'll be the laughingstock of Summer City U. My dad will know I lied. Kingston will tell everyone what a pathetic fraud I am. I'll be even lower on Stuart's spreadsheet than the guy who tried to start a medieval LARPing club in the quad and accidentally set his cape on fire.
Oh god. The pressure in my chest builds. My hands are shaking as I pick up the pill. It feels warm, almost alive, pulsing with potential between my fingers.
"Stuart," I whisper, "if this kills me, delete my browser history."
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pop the pill in my mouth and swallow.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then...
A wave of tingles washes over my entire body, like I've been dunked in carbonated water. My skin feels electric, every nerve ending firing at once. I gasp, doubling over as the sensation intensifies.
"Oh shit," I manage to croak. "Oh shit oh shit oh—"
The tingling turns to burning. My bones feel like they're melting, reforming. I hear cracking sounds as my skeleton shifts, my height dropping slightly, my hips widening. The pain isn't exactly excruciating, but it's... intense. Overwhelming.
"Fascinating," Stuart mutters, frantically taking notes. "Your facial structure is already beginning to change."
He's right - I can feel my face... softening somehow. My jaw becoming less square, my nose shrinking. My scalp tingles violently as hair begins sprouting, falling past my shoulders in a silky black curtain.
But that's nothing compared to what happens next.
"HOLY SHIT," I gasp as pressure builds in my chest. My shirt feels tight, then tighter. I can feel them growing, swelling outward, getting heavier by the second. The buttons of my shirt strain.
Pop! The first button goes flying across the room.
"Stuart!" I yelp, clutching my expanding chest. "Turn around!"
Pop! Pop! Two more buttons surrender to the increasing mass of flesh beneath.
I sprint for the bathroom, slamming the door just as the rest of my shirt gives up the fight. I stare in the mirror, watching in fascination and horror as my chest continues to expand. The weight is incredible - like someone's attaching lead weights to my front. They're huge, way bigger than I expected, and they won't stop growing. Each one feels like it weighs as much as a gallon of milk, swaying and jiggling with every slight movement.
My waist is pinching inward dramatically, while my hips flare out. The seams of my jeans protest, then split. My thighs are thickening, my ass expanding. I can feel my center of gravity shifting.
The changes ripple through my entire body. My hands become smaller, more delicate. My feet shrink, my calves reshape themselves. There's a deeply strange sensation between my legs that I try very hard not to think about.
"Percy?" Stuart calls through the door. "Your vocal cords should be changing any second now..."
Right on cue, my throat tightens. When I try to respond, my voice comes out high and feminine: "This is so weird!"
I grip the sink, staring wide-eyed at the stranger in the mirror. My face... it's not mine. Delicate features, huge doe eyes, plump lips. I look like a fucking K-pop star crossed with a Mexican telenovela actress. I open my mouth and a perfect little pink tongue darts out. What the actual fuck.
But that's nothing compared to the main event.
My shredded shirt hangs open, and two colossal breasts spill out, defying gravity. They're cartoonishly huge, each one bigger than my head. The skin is taut and smooth, with prominent veins visible under the surface. My nipples are tiny and pink in comparison, perched atop expansive areolae.
"Holy shit," I whisper, and even that slight movement sends ripples through the flesh. I grab one experimentally and nearly lose my balance - it's so heavy, like a sack of wet cement hanging from my chest. The weight pulls painfully at my shoulders and back.
I let go and watch in fascinated horror as it bounces and jiggles, eventually settling into a teardrop shape. The other breast sways in sympathetic motion. It's mesmerizing and revolting all at once.
My waist has shrunk to Barbie doll proportions, while my hips flare out dramatically. I turn and crane my neck - my ass is fucking enormous, two perfect hemispheres that jut out like a shelf. My thighs are thick and shapely, rubbing together when I shift my weight.
I run my hands over my new body, marveling at the alien sensation. The skin is so soft, almost frictionless. There's a layer of subcutaneous fat everywhere that wasn't there before, giving everything a plush, yielding quality. It's deeply unsettling.
"Percy?" Stuart's voice comes through the door, higher-pitched than usual. "Are you... decent?"
"NO!" I shout back. "I'm a fucking sex doll, Stuart! This is insane!"
"Can I... can I see?" He sounds both terrified and eager.
"Absolutely not!" I try to cover myself, but my hands are comically inadequate for the task. "I need clothes. Now!"
There's a long pause. Then I hear Stuart frantically texting.
"Don't worry! I know some girls from my Advanced Algorithms class. They're... uh... very discreet."
Twenty mortifying minutes later, I'm still hiding in the bathroom when I hear multiple people enter our dorm room.
"Oh. Em. Gee." A nasally voice carries through the door. "Stuart wasn't kidding."
"This is like, so exciting!" Another voice, equally grating. "Like a real-life transformation sequence!"
I recognize them - Bethany and Maddie from the Computer Science department. They run the campus Anime Club with Stuart. I've seen them around, usually wearing cat ears.
"Percy?" Stuart calls. "Bethany brought some clothes."
I crack the door open slightly, clutching my ruined shirt closed. Bethany and Maddie peer at me with huge eyes behind their thick glasses. Bethany's wearing a oversized Pokemon shirt and what appears to be a skirt made entirely of safety pins. Maddie has blue hair, braces, and at least seven different fandom buttons on her backpack.
"Holy motherforking shirtballs!" Bethany squeals. "You're like, actually gorgeous! This is so unfair!"
"Quick, what are your measurements?" Maddie demands, whipping out a tape measure.
The next fifteen minutes are pure torture as they take measurements, argue about cup sizes, and make me try on various combinations of their clothes. Nothing quite fits right - I'm apparently much more... proportionate than either of them.
They eventually cobble together an outfit: Maddie's largest sports bra (still painfully tight), layered with another for support. A stretched-out "Schrodinger's Cat Lady" t-shirt that barely contains my chest. A pleated skirt that's supposed to be knee-length but barely covers anything on me. Thigh-high socks because "that's totally your aesthetic now!"
"The bras are really struggling," Bethany observes as I emerge from the bathroom.
"We could add a third one?" Maddie suggests helpfully. "Oh! And I have cat ears that would look super kawaii on you!"
I want to die.
Stuart is furiously updating his spreadsheet, muttering about "unexpected variables in the transformation matrix."
"So like, what's the plan?" Bethany asks, adjusting my shirt for the hundredth time. "Are you going to be a magical girl now? Oh! We should teach you the transformation pose sequence!"
"She needs to cook Korean-Mexican fusion food for Omega Psi," Stuart explains.
Both girls gasp in horror.
"The fraternity boys?" Maddie clutches her chest.
I catch my reflection in Stuart's monitor. Somehow, despite being objectively attractive now, I look completely ridiculous in their mismatched otaku fashion. The sports bras are creating some kind of four-boob situation under the tight shirt. The skirt keeps riding up because my hips are too wide for it.
"We should do your makeup!" Maddie brightens. "I have this amazing Sailor Moon palette..."
"No!" I squeak. "I mean... thank you, but I should probably go shopping. For normal clothes. Please."
I grab Stuart's car keys, ignoring his protests about letting me drive his 'vintage' Honda Civic (it's a 2003). Just walking to the car is an ordeal. Every step sends ripples through my chest, the inadequate sports bras doing little to contain the motion. The skirt keeps riding up as my thighs rub together. I've never been more aware of my body in my life.
I drive twenty minutes to a Goodwill in the next town over, praying I don't see anyone from campus. Just sitting is weird - my new center of gravity makes everything feel off, and my breasts rest heavily on my lap, making it hard to see the gear shift. The seatbelt cuts awkwardly across my chest, creating an uncomfortable valley.
Inside the store, a girl with septum piercing and heavy eyeliner looks up from her phone at the register. Her eyes widen slightly.
"Um, hi," I say, trying to sound casual while tugging the too-short skirt down. "I need... everything?"
She looks me up and down. A smirk plays at her black-painted lips.
"Just emerge from a cocoon or something?"
"Something like that."
"Well, you're gonna need a real bra first. Those sports bras look like they're crying for help." She comes around the counter. "I'm Val. And you're... not going to find anything that fits here. But there's a plus-size lingerie store next door that might help with your... situation."
Val apparently knows the lingerie store owner and insists on helping.
The owner, a middle-aged woman named Barbara, takes one look at me and starts pulling bras off racks.
"Honey, those sports bras are compressing you all wrong," Barbara tuts, eyeing my chest critically. "You're going to damage the tissue. Let's get you measured properly."
I whimper as she wraps the tape measure around my rib cage, then over the fullest part of my bust. The numbers are shocking.
"Good lord," Barbara mutters. "44G. Maybe even H."
She brings in what looks like industrial engineering projects disguised as bras. The first one has more hooks than I can count and straps thick enough to tow a car.
"Bend over and scoop everything in," Barbara instructs. "Really get in there. These babies need a proper home."
I lean forward, and my breasts swing heavily, pendulous. The skin stretches, veins visible under the surface. I cup them, marveling at their heft and density. Each one weighs as much as a gallon of milk, the flesh pliant yet firm. My fingers sink into the yielding tissue as I lift and position them into the cups.
"Oh god," I whimper, the sensation overwhelming. My new skin is hypersensitive, every brush sending tingles through me.
Val snickers from outside. "Having fun in there, anime girl?"
"This is insane," I mutter, struggling with the clasps. When I finally get it secured, I straighten up and gasp at my reflection. "Holy shit."
My breasts are lifted and separated, their true size now apparent. They're cartoonishly huge, straining against the fabric. The bra creates deep cleavage, a shadowy chasm between two pale hemispheres.
"Better, right?" Barbara calls. "Now they're actually supported, not just squashed. Try walking around."
I take a few tentative steps. The difference is remarkable - still heavy, but controlled. No more wild bouncing. Though now they're lifted and shaped properly, they look even bigger, jutting out like a shelf.
"Work it, girl!" Val cheers sarcastically. "You've got this Jessica Rabbit thing going on. Might as well embrace it."
I turn, examining my profile. My waist looks tiny in comparison, exaggerating the curve of my spine and the swell of my ass. The skin everywhere is impossibly soft, with a marshmallowy give. I run my hands over my hips, marveling at the plush texture.
"So," Val says casually, "how long you planning on being a girl?"
I freeze. "What?"
Barbara chuckles. "Honey, we've seen it all. Those InstaGirl pills are getting popular. Though I gotta say, you went for some extreme settings."
I feel my face burning. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to the trained eye," Barbara assures me. "Now, let's find you some clothes that actually fit, shall we?"
After an hour, I leave with two outfits - both carefully chosen to be as modest as possible while still accommodating my new proportions. For tonight's dinner: dark high-waisted jeans that actually contain my hips (though they're still very curvy), and a flowing blouse that doesn't make me look like I'm trying to be provocative (though everything looks provocative on this body). The second outfit is backup, just in case.
At the grocery store, I find myself moving differently, instinctively. My hips sway naturally to maintain balance against the weight on my chest. I catch my reflection in the freezer doors - even in these relatively modest clothes, I look like I stepped out of a men's magazine. An old man nearly crashes his cart staring.
But as I shop, something clicks. My hands seem to know exactly what ingredients to grab: gochugaru, Mexican oregano, fresh cabbage, specific cuts of pork. The knowledge feels downloaded, like muscle memory I didn't earn but somehow have.
Back in the dorm kitchen (thankfully empty on a Sunday afternoon), I start prep work. My hands move with surprising confidence:
- Slicing cabbage paper-thin for quick-fermented kimchi
- Marinating pork belly in a blend of gochujang, adobo chilies, and Mexican coca-cola
- Whipping up a creamy lime-gochujang sauce that makes my mouth water
- Preparing pickled radishes with both daikon and jicama
- Chopping fresh herbs: cilantro, perilla leaves, green onions
I catch glimpses of myself in the steel refrigerator door as I work. My breasts bounce slightly even with the proper bra as I chop and mix. My hair falls in my face and I have to keep brushing it back. Every movement feels foreign yet increasingly natural.
My phone buzzes. Kingston: "Yo, can't wait to meet the famous Violet tonight! The bros are hyped!"
I stare at my reflection again. The girl looking back is beautiful but terrifying. In six hours, I have to convince an entire fraternity that I'm someone's girlfriend. That I've always been this Instagram-model-looking Korean-Mexican fusion chef.
I hesitate, then type out a message: "Hey, slight change of plans. Only Violet can make it tonight. But she's bringing the food!"
Kingston replies quickly: "Damn, that's cold leaving your girl to face the wolves alone 😂 But if her cookin slaps like you said, we might have to make you an honorary member anyway. Tell shorty to bring her A game!"
I take a deep breath, my heart racing. This is really happening.
Stuart enters the kitchen, his eyes widening as he sees the spread. "Holy algorithms," he breathes. "It actually worked."
I offer him a sample taco. He takes a bite and his eyes roll back in his head. "Oh my god," he moans. "This is... this is good."
"Thanks," I mutter, packing everything up carefully. "I just need to warm the tortillas there and assemble. Maybe grill the pork for a minute if they have a grill."
Stuart's staring at me, his cheeks flushed. "You know, Percy... I mean, Violet... you really do look incred—"
"Don't," I snap, more harshly than I intended. "Just... don't, okay? This is weird enough."
He looks hurt. "I'm just trying to help. You need to get in character!"
"Character?" I whirl around, my breasts swaying with the motion. Stuart's eyes drop for a second before snapping back up. "This isn't a fucking D&D campaign, Stuart! This is my life!"
"Our lives," he corrects. "Do you know how this could change things for us? For me?"
I pause, my hand on the container of gochujang sauce. "What do you mean, for you?"
Stuart fidgets. "Well, if you get into Omega Psi... I mean, we're friends. That social capital would extend to me too, right?"
I stare at him, realization dawning. "Is that what this is about? You're using me to climb your stupid social ladder?"
"It's not stupid!" he protests. "And you're the one who lied in the first place!"
We're interrupted by another text from Kingston: "Yo Violet, hope you ready to throw down in the kitchen! The boys are HUNGRY 🔥🔥🔥"
I feel a wave of nausea. "Oh god," I whisper. "I can't do this."
Stuart's expression softens. "Hey," he says gently. "You can. You have to. Remember why we're doing this."
I take a shaky breath, nodding. He's right. I have to pull this off. For my dad. For my future. For... us?
"Okay," I say finally. "Help me carry this stuff to the car."
As we load up Stuart's Honda, I catch him staring again. "Stuart," I warn.
He blushes. "Sorry! It's just... you move so differently now. It's fascinating."
I roll my eyes, but I know what he means. Every motion feels new. My center of gravity is all wrong. My hips have a natural sway I can't control. I feel simultaneously powerful and vulnerable.
"Let's go over the plan one more time," Stuart says as we finish loading.
I nod, taking a deep breath. "I'm Violet. Percy's girlfriend from Tampa. I'm doing a gap year to focus on my cooking. I'm... confident. I've got this."
Stuart nods encouragingly. "You've got this. Just be yourself... well, you know what I mean."
As I climb into the driver's seat, the weight of my new breasts settles heavily on my lap. Stuart gives me an awkward thumbs-up as I pull away, my heart already racing.
The frat house looms ahead, a massive colonial-style mansion with Greek letters proudly displayed. Even from the street, I can feel the bass thumping through my chest. My new body vibrates with each beat, my oversized breasts jiggling slightly even in their industrial-strength containment system.
I park half a block away, hands shaking as I check my makeup one last time. The face in the rearview mirror is still shockingly beautiful, with huge doe eyes and pillowy lips. I take a deep breath, my chest heaving dramatically, and grab my cooking supplies.
The late afternoon sun beats down as I approach the house, sweat already beading on my skin. My hips sway uncontrollably with each step, thighs rubbing together. The jeans that seemed modest in the store now feel painted on, hugging every exaggerated curve.
A group of shirtless guys playing cornhole on the lawn stop mid-throw to stare. One lets out a low whistle.
"Goddamn," I hear him mutter. "That's a WOMAN."
My cheeks burn as I hurry past, eyes locked on the ground. The front porch is crowded with people, red solo cups in hand. Smoke wafts past - definitely not tobacco. The scent of weed mingles with spilled beer and sweat.
I hesitate at the base of the steps, heart pounding. This was a mistake. I can't do this. I'm not Violet. I'm just Percy in a fucked-up body I don't understand. I start to turn...
"AYO!" A deep voice booms from the porch. "Is that Percy's girl? Violet! Get yo fine ass up here!"
I freeze, looking up to see Kingston descending the steps. He's shirtless, his chiseled ebony chest glistening with sweat. A heavy gold chain bounces against his pecs as he moves.
"Damn, babygirl!" He grins, exposing a perfect white smile and a gold tooth that catches the light. "Percy wasn't lying about you! You thick as hell!"
I try to speak but nothing comes out. Kingston's eyes roam over me appreciatively, lingering on my chest. I cross my arms instinctively, which only serves to push my breasts up and together, creating a deep canyon of cleavage.
"Uh, hi," I finally manage, my voice coming out breathy and high. "I brought the food..."
"Shit, my bad!" Kingston laughs. "Let me help you with that, shorty."
He easily takes most of the containers, biceps flexing. I'm struck by how small I feel next to him now.
"C'mon," he says, putting a hand on the small of my back to guide me. "The homies been waiting to meet you."
As we climb the steps, I'm acutely aware of how my body moves. My ass bounces with each step, jeans stretched to their limit. My breasts sway and jiggle despite the industrial-strength bra. Kingston's hand feels hot on my back, huge and strong.
The door swings open and I'm hit with a wall of sound and sensation. The music is deafening, so loud I can feel it in my teeth. Heavy bass rattles my bones as Megan Thee Stallion raps about her "Body-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody."
The entryway opens to a massive living room packed with writhing bodies. Guys and girls grind on each other, clothes damp with sweat. In one corner, a heated game of beer pong is underway, with money changing hands after each throw. The air is thick with weed smoke and the tang of spilled alcohol.
A guy stumbles past, bumping into me. I stumble, my new center of gravity throwing me off balance. Kingston's arm snakes around my waist to steady me, pulling me against his muscled side.
"I got you, babygirl," he says in my ear, voice low. Goosebumps erupt across my skin.
"THA'S HER?" A guy with dreads and a septum piercing appears, red cup in hand. His eyes are bloodshot, pupils huge. "DAAAAAMN GIRL! You finna break Percy in half with all that ass!"
I open my mouth to reply but nothing comes out. My throat feels tight, panic rising. This is too much. Too loud, too crowded, too everything.
"Ay, don't scare her off, Malik!" Kingston laughs. To me, he says, "C'mon, let's get this food to the kitchen. Then I'll introduce you to errybody."
I nod mutely, letting him guide me through the crowd. Hands brush against me as we pass. Someone grabs my ass and I yelp. Kingston glares in the general direction but doesn't stop moving.
The kitchen is marginally quieter, but no less chaotic. A group of girls in crop tops and booty shorts are doing body shots off a guy laid out on the island. The counter is covered in a sea of liquor bottles and mixers.
"Aight, this should work," Kingston says, setting down the containers. He turns to me, expression softening slightly. "You good, ma? Looking a little shook."
I nod, not trusting my voice. Kingston's eyes roam over me again, lingering on my chest.
"For real though," he says, voice low and smooth. "You fine as hell. Percy's a lucky man."
He steps closer. I can smell his cologne, something expensive and musky. My breath catches as he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brush my cheek and I shiver.
"You sure you good?" He asks again, dark eyes searching mine. "Cause if you need anything... and I mean anything... you let me know, aight?"
I nod again, heart racing. Kingston grins, then turns to the room at large.
"AYO!" He bellows. "PERCY'S GIRL VIOLET HERE! AND SHE BOUT TO THROW DOWN IN THE KITCHEN!"
A cheer goes up. People start crowding in, asking what I'm making, if they can help. The panic rises again, threatening to choke me.
This is too much. I'm not Violet. I'm not this body. I need to leave, to run, to...
My breath comes in short gasps, heart pounding against my ribcage. The room spins, faces blurring together. I feel like I'm going to pass out. Like I'm dying.
"Whoa, whoa, easy ma!" Kingston's deep voice cuts through the panic. His strong hands grip my shoulders, steadying me. "Breathe, babygirl. I got you."
He guides me to a chair, pushing through the crowd. "Give her some space, y'all! Damn!"
I collapse into the seat, head between my knees, trying to remember how to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
"That's it," Kingston soothes, rubbing my back. "You got this."
Slowly, the panic recedes, leaving me shaky and embarrassed. I lift my head to see Kingston crouched in front of me, concern etched on his handsome face.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, mortified. "I don't know what happened. I just..."
"Don't even trip," Kingston says, waving a hand. "This yo first time at the crib, right? Shit's overwhelming. You ain't gotta apologize for nothing."
He stands, offering me a hand. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. The simple action sends my breasts swaying, and I see Kingston's eyes dip for a second before snapping back to my face.
"Aight, let's get you set up," he says, voice slightly rougher than before. "What you need, shorty?"
Together, we unpack the containers, laying out ingredients. I try to focus on the task, ignoring the eyes I feel on my body, the whispered comments just out of earshot.
"Damn, you see the ass on her?"
"That's a whole lotta woman right there."
"You think that's her Korean side or her Mexican side?"
"Who cares? I'd eat her kimchi tacos any day, ya feel me?"
My cheeks burn, but I keep my head down, chopping and mixing. The familiar motions calm me, even in this unfamiliar body. Soon, the heady scent of pork and spices fills the air.
"Goddamn!" Kingston exclaims, leaning over my shoulder. "That smells good as fuck!"
His chest presses against my back, one hand resting lightly on my hip. I stiffen, heart racing for a different reason now.
"Uh, thanks," I manage, acutely aware of every point of contact between our bodies. "It's Percy's favorite."
Kingston chuckles, his breath hot on my neck. "I bet. Dude's lucky as hell, having you cook for him like this."
His hand slides from my hip to my stomach, fingers splaying possessively. "A man could get used to this, you know what I'm saying?"
I freeze, unsure how to respond. Kingston's touch feels electric, dangerous. Wrong.
"I thought..." I swallow hard. "I thought you had a girlfriend?"
Kingston laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine. "Nah, we just be fucking. Ain't nothing serious."
He steps back, but not before trailing his fingers along my waist, leaving a burning path in their wake.
"Aight, let's see what you got!" He calls to the room at large. "Violet's tacos bout to slap harder than her ass in them jeans!"
The guys hoot and holler, crowding around as I start assembling tacos with shaking hands. Kingston hovers at my elbow, watching with a smirk.
As I hand him the first taco, our fingers brush. He holds my gaze as he takes a huge bite, moaning obscenely.
"Fuuuuck," he groans, eyes rolling back. "Babygirl, this is incredible."
The other guys clamor for their tacos, shoving and jostling. I try to keep up, heart pounding, skin prickling with awareness of Kingston's eyes on me.
"So," I say, trying to sound casual. "Percy will get into the frat, right? Since I did this?"
Kingston takes another massive bite, chewing thoughtfully. He swallows, then grins.
"Percy? Shit, I forgot all about that dude." He leans in, voice low and conspiratorial. "Let's be real, shorty. A woman like you? You need a real man. Not some scrawny nerd who can't even show up to support his girl."
My stomach twists. "He's not... I mean, he's a good guy."
Kingston shrugs. "If you say so. All I know is, if you were mine?" His gaze rakes over me, hot and heavy. "I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a second."
"I... I should check the food," I stammer, turning back to the stove. My hands shake as I stir the pork, hyper-aware of Kingston's presence behind me.
The party rages on around us, music thumping, voices raised in drunken revelry. At some point, someone starts passing around shots. Kingston presses a glass into my hand, his fingers lingering on mine.
"C'mon, ma," he cajoles. "Loosen up a little. You deserve to have some fun."
I hesitate, then throw back the shot, wincing as it burns down my throat. Kingston grins, pouring me another. And another.
The alcohol hits me hard and fast in this body. Soon, the room takes on a pleasantly fuzzy edge. I find myself laughing at Kingston's jokes, leaning into his touch. His hands seem to be everywhere - on my waist, my hips, brushing the side of my breast.
"Aight, y'all!" Kingston bellows suddenly, making me jump. "Time for some real fun! Who tryna play Truth or Dare?"
A cheer goes up and suddenly we're all piling into the living room, collapsing onto couches and chairs. I end up squashed between Kingston and another guy, their muscular thighs pressing against mine.
The game starts off tame enough - truths about first kisses and embarrassing moments, dares to chug beer or do push-ups. But as the alcohol flows, things take a decidedly sexual turn.
"Violet!" A girl with braids and a nose ring points at me, grinning wickedly. "Truth or dare?"
"Uh... truth?" I say, voice slightly slurred.
"What's the freakiest place you've ever fucked?"
My mind goes blank. I can't exactly say "nowhere, because I'm a virgin nerd in a magically transformed body."
"Um... a car?" I offer weakly.
The group boos. "Lame! You gotta do a dare now!"
"Okay, fine. Dare." How bad could it be?
The girl's grin widens. "I dare you to let Kingston do a body shot off you."
My stomach drops. "What? No, I can't..."
"A dare's a dare!" Someone shouts. The group takes up a chant. "Do it! Do it! Do it!"
I look to Kingston, panicked, but he just smirks. "It's all good, babygirl. I'll be gentle."
And then he's pushing me back onto the couch, hiking up my shirt to expose my midriff. I yelp as he places a shot glass in my navel, balancing a lime wedge on the swell of my breast.
"Just hold still," he murmurs, eyes glinting.
He lowers his head, tongue dragging across my stomach as he laps up the tequila. I gasp at the sensation, back arching involuntarily. Kingston chuckles against my skin, the vibrations making me shiver.
He takes his time with the lime, teeth grazing my flesh as he sucks it into his mouth. When he finally pulls away, I'm flushed and panting, my body thrumming with unfamiliar desire.
The game continues, but I can barely focus, too aware of Kingston's heat beside me, the way his eyes keep flicking to my chest, my thighs. Every accidental brush of skin feels electric.
"Percy's a lucky man," he tells me again, voice low and rough. His hand finds my knee, squeezing. "He better treat you right, you know what I'm saying?"
"He does," I insist, but it comes out breathless, unconvincing. "He's... he's a good guy."
Kingston hums, unconvinced. His hand starts sliding up my thigh, achingly slow. "A good guy who sends his girl into a house full of drunk horny motherfuckers all alone? Nah. See, if you were mine..."
His fingers reach the hem of my jeans, teasing at the sensitive skin there. I bite my lip, torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to beg him to keep going.
"I'd take care of you," Kingston continues, voice like honey. "I'd make you feel good, ma. So fucking good. Percy ain't gotta know..."
His fingers slip beneath the denim, grazing my panties. I jolt as if shocked, scrambling to my feet.
"I can't," I gasp out, stumbling slightly. The room spins. "I'm sorry, I... I have to go."
I lurch towards the door, ignoring Kingston calling after me. I have to get out of here. This is too much, too crazy. What the fuck was I thinking, coming here in this body, pretending to be someone I'm not?
But as I reach for the door handle, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
"Whoa, whoa, hold up." Kingston turns me to face him, expression serious. "I'm sorry, aight? I didn't mean to scare you off. I just... fuck." He runs a hand over his short dreads, looking uncharacteristically flustered. "I'm feeling you, shorty. Like, for real."
I stare at him, heart pounding. "Kingston, I can't... I'm not..."
"You not what? Not into me?" He looks almost hurt.
"No! I mean, but..." I take a shaky breath. "I'm with Percy. I, uh, love him."
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Kingston searches my face for a long moment, then nods slowly.
"Aight. I feel you. You loyal. I respect that." He steps back, giving me space. "Real talk though? Percy's a fool if he don't wife you up quick. Letting a girl like you slip through his fingers..."
He shakes his head, then meets my eyes, gaze intense. "I meant what I said though. You need anything, anytime, you call me. I got you. And Percy too. I'll make sure he gets that bid."
Relief crashes through me. "Really? You will?"
Kingston grins, slow and predatory. "Course, babygirl. Anything for you."
He steps closer, and suddenly I'm trapped between his body and the door. I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell his cologne mixed with sweat and tequila.
"You sure I can't convince you to stay?" His voice drops low, husky. "I could show you things Percy never could. Make you feel so fucking good, ma."
My breath catches. I should say no. I should leave. But...
"I... I don't know," I whisper, conflicted. "I've never..."
Kingston's eyebrows shoot up. "For real? You a virgin?"
I nod, cheeks burning. "Percy and I... we're waiting."
He lets out a low whistle. "Damn. That's... that's a waste, shorty. A body like yours? Deserves to be worshipped."
His hand comes up, cupping my cheek. I should pull away, but I find myself leaning into his touch.
"Just one time," he murmurs, thumb brushing my lower lip. "That's all I'm asking. Let me show you what you've been missing."
I shake my head, but it's weak. Unconvincing. "I can't... it wouldn't be right."
Kingston chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Ain't nothing about this right, babygirl. But it feels good, don't it?"
His other hand finds my waist, pulling me flush against him. I gasp as I feel the hard length of him pressing into my stomach.
"You feel that?" He grinds against me, slow and deliberate. "That's all for you, ma. Tell me you don't want it. Tell me you ain't curious."
I can't speak. Can't think. My body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming for his touch.
"Just one time," Kingston repeats, voice hypnotic. "Percy never has to know. And I'll make sure he gets that bid. Win-win, you feel me?"
My resolve crumbles. "O-okay," I whisper, barely audible. "Just... just this once."
Kingston's grin is triumphant. "That's my girl. C'mon, let's go somewhere more private."
He takes my hand, leading me upstairs. My legs feel like jelly, heart pounding so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it. What am I doing? This is insane. I'm not really a girl. I'm Percy. I'm...
We reach a bedroom - Kingston's, I assume. It's surprisingly neat, with a huge bed dominating the space. Posters of rappers and athletes cover the walls. A shelf holds trophies and framed photos.
Kingston closes the door behind us, the click of the lock sounding final. When he turns back to me, his eyes are dark with hunger.
"Last chance to back out, shorty," he says, voice rough. "You good?"
I nod, unable to speak. Kingston grins, closing the distance between us in two long strides.
"Good," he growls. "Cause I'm about to rock your fucking world."
And then his mouth is on mine, hard and demanding. I gasp and he takes advantage, thrusting his tongue past my lips. It's wet and invasive and overwhelming, nothing like I imagined my first kiss would be.
He kisses like he's trying to devour me, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger. I whimper into his mouth, completely out of my depth. My hands flutter uselessly at my sides, unsure where to land.
Kingston pulls back with a wet smack, chuckling. "Damn, babygirl. You really ain't never been kissed before, huh?"
I shake my head mutely, cheeks burning. He grins, predatory.
"Don't worry. I'll teach you everything you need to know." His hands find my hips, pulling me against him roughly. "Starting with this body. Fuck, shorty. The things I'm gonna do to you..."
He slides his hands up my sides, cupping my heavy breasts through my shirt. I gasp at the sensation, nipples tightening almost painfully.
"These fucking tits," Kingston groans appreciatively, weighing them in his palms. "They're like fucking melons."
He squeezes roughly and I cry out, the sensation toeing the line between pleasure and pain.
"P-please," I whimper, unsure what I'm even asking for.
Kingston chuckles darkly. "Please what? Please stop?" His hands tighten, making me gasp. "Or please, don't stop?"
I just shake my head helplessly, overwhelmed. Kingston leans in, breath hot against my ear.
"How about you put on a little show for me, hmm?" He nips at my earlobe, making me shiver. "Strip for me, babygirl. Nice and slow. Lemme see all that caramel skin."
He steps back, eyeing me expectantly. I hesitate, arms crossing protectively over my chest.
"I don't... I've never..." My voice comes out small, wavering.
Kingston just smirks, settling back on the edge of the bed. "It's easy. Just take it off, one piece at a time. Tease me a little."
I take a shaky breath, fingers finding the hem of my shirt. Slowly, awkwardly, I start to lift it, exposing a sliver of skin at my midriff.
Kingston leans forward, eyes glued to the exposed flesh. "That's it. Keep going. Show me them titties."
Biting my lip, I lift the shirt higher, letting it bunch just under my massive breasts. The cool air hits my overheated skin and I shiver, goosebumps erupting.
"Fuuuck," Kingston breathes, palming himself through his jeans. "Look at you, all shy and shit. Actin' like you ain't got a body made for sin."
With shaking hands, I pull my shirt the rest of the way off, letting it drop to the floor. I stand before him in just my industrial-strength bra, the heavy fabric straining to contain my massive tits.
"God DAMN!" Kingston's eyes bug out as he takes in the expanse of caramel cleavage. "Them thangs is THANGIN!"
I flush, resisting the urge to cover myself. My nipples poke obscenely against the bra cups, the cool air making them pucker and tighten.
"Turn around," Kingston commands. "Lemme see that ass."
Biting my lip, I slowly pivot, presenting my backside. I hear Kingston's sharp intake of breath.
"Fuuuuck ME. Cakes for days! That ass is a whole bakery!"
I glance over my shoulder to see him adjusting himself, eyes glued to my plump cheeks. The jeans hug every curve, the denim pulled tight.
"Take 'em off," he growls. "Slowly."
With trembling fingers, I unbutton my jeans, shimmying them down over my wide hips. Kingston groans as inch after inch of bare thigh is revealed.
"Damn, shorty! Thicker than a snicker! You hiding all that under them baggy clothes?"
The jeans catch on my generous ass, resisting. I have to peel them down, the denim rasping against my sensitive skin. Finally, they drop to my ankles, leaving me in just my bra and panties.
"Hooo-leee shit," Kingston breathes. "You a whole ass Pixar mom. Lookit that waist-to-ass ratio!"
I straighten up, hands instinctively coming to rest on my tiny waist, emphasizing the dramatic flare of my hips. Kingston licks his lips, gaze predatory.
"Aight, babygirl. Lose the bra. Free them tig ol' bitties."
I reach back with shaking hands, fumbling with the heavy-duty clasp. After a few tries, it comes undone. I let the straps slip down my shoulders...
And my massive tits spill free, bouncing heavily before settling into place. They're so big they almost pull me off balance, each one like a weighty flesh-sack.
"God DAMN!" Kingston's voice cracks. "Them thangs got they own area code! You smuggling watermelons under there?"
Humiliated, I just stand there as he ogles me, fighting the urge to cover myself. My tits are so heavy they slope down before jutting out obscenely, pink nipples pointing to the floor.
"Lemme see them thangs bounce," Kingston demands. "Jump up and down for me."
Cheeks burning, I do as he says, hopping in place. My giant breasts heave and jiggle wildly, slapping against each other and my torso with wet, meaty sounds.
"Plap plap plap," Kingston imitates gleefully. "Damn, shorty! Them udders is MOOIN! Flappin' around like a couple trash bags full of jello!"
He cups his hands to his mouth. "Thar she blows! It's Moby Thicc!"
I whimper in humiliation, my massive jugs still quivering and wobbling long after I've stopped jumping. The pink peaks are painfully tight.
"Aight babygirl, lemme peep that pussy. Drop them panties."
With shaking hands, I hook my thumbs into my waistband. Kingston leans forward, eyes riveted to my crotch as I inch the fabric down...
And then my puffy mound springs free, plump and hairless. My pussy lips are so fat they pout obscenely, glistening with arousal.
"DAMN!" Kingston exclaims, eyes bugging out. "That's a PHAT pussy! Lookin' like a swole ass Homer Simpson mouth down there!"
He grabs my hips, spinning me around. I yelp as he yanks my panties up, giving me a massive wedgie. The fabric cuts between my juicy ass cheeks, disappearing into my crack.
"Fuck, girl! Lookit that WAGON! Draggin' a whole ass dumptruck behind you!"
He smacks my right cheek and I cry out, the plump flesh rippling and wobbling. My cheeks are so doughy and soft, like two giant mounds of jello.
"This ass is STUPID thicc! What are you, Mexican or Korean?" Kingston demands, groping and kneading my sensitive globes. "Serving up Kimchi with a side of CAKE?"
I just whimper, face burning with shame. Why am I letting him do this? I'm Percy!
But then Kingston steps back and I hear the clink of a belt buckle. The rasp of a zipper. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him shove his pants down...
And my jaw drops. His cock springs free, impossibly huge and angry looking. It's as thick as my forearm, heavily veined and throbbing. A fat, purplish head leaks precum, the slit gaping obscenely. His balls hang low and heavy, covered in wiry black pubes.
It has to be at least eleven inches, maybe even a foot long. It curves up towards his navel, so hard it's almost pointing at the ceiling.
"You like that, babygirl?" Kingston strokes himself, smearing the copious precum around. "Never seen a real man's dick before, have you?"
I shake my head mutely, unable to tear my eyes away from the monstrous appendage. It's so big it doesn't seem real. My pussy clenches at the thought of trying to take it inside me.
"Don't worry," Kingston chuckles darkly, misinterpreting my horror for awe. "This big black cock'll stretch that little pussy riiiight out. Ruin you for all them scrawny white boys."
He smacks my ass again, harder this time. I yelp, the flesh jiggling violently.
"On the bed," he commands. "Hands and knees, face down ass up. Lemme see that big ol' booty."
On shaky legs, I crawl onto the mattress, assuming the degrading position. My massive tits dangle down, the heavy flesh mashing against the comforter. I can feel my ass jutting up obscenely, plump cheeks spread to bare my glistening slit.
Kingston groans at the sight, giving my rump an appreciative slap. "Fuuuck yeah. Lookit them phat ass cheeks, girl. Spreadin' like the Red Sea, just beggin' for this dick."
He moves around the bed, examining me from every angle like a piece of meat. I hear him hawking and spitting, then feel the wet splat of saliva landing on my asshole.
From behind, he slaps my cunt, making me yelp. "Damn, even your pussy lips are chubby! Bet that shit grip a dick REAL good."
My face burns with humiliation, hot tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I want to tell him to stop, that this is a mistake. That I'm not really Violet.
But I'm far beyond the point of no return.
"Aight, eyes up," he commands, fisting a hand in my hair. "Look at yourself gettin' blacked, babygirl." He forces my face up, making me look at our reflection in the mirror.
The sight takes my breath away. My body is absurd, all tits and ass, my waist nipped in ridiculously. My face is slack, mouth hanging open dumbly as Kingston manhandles me.
He positions himself behind me, draping his massive, veiny cock over my plump ass cheeks. It's so huge it reaches past my asscrack, the bulbous head poking out obscenely. He humps against me, hot shaft sliding between my globes. His hairy balls smack wetly against my puffy cunt.
"Damn, lookit them pussy lips huggin' my nutsack," he groans. "Grippin' me like a little mouth. Bet it'd feel real good around my dick, hmm?"
I whimper pathetically, face burning with shame as I watch him degrade me.
Kingston lines himself up, rubbing his swollen cockhead through my slick folds. He gathers wetness, painting my fat lips with my own arousal.
"See that?" he breathes. "See how your juicy cunt sticks to me? Stringin' out like hot cheese when I pull back? Fuck, you want this so bad, don't you?"
I shake my head weakly, but we both know it's a lie. My body betrays me, hips tilting up in offering.
And then, finally, he starts to push inside.
I cry out at the breach, eyes locked on my own reflection. I watch my face contort in discomfort as he stretches me impossibly wide.
"Hooo-leee SHIT you tight!" Kingston throws his head back, groaning. "Squeezin' me like a fuckin' vice! Ain't no way this pussy ain't virgin!"
Inch by excruciating inch, he sinks into my clinging heat. I can feel every bump and vein dragging along my sensitive walls. It's too much, too big, splitting me in half.
"Unnnghh!" I grunt, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. His wiry pubes scratch against my ass, heavy balls slapping my clit.
"Goddamn, you took it all!" Kingston sounds impressed. "Balls deep in this tight Asian pussy!"
He grinds against me, corkscrewing his hips. I can feel his cockhead mashing against my cervix, nudging something deep inside. My toes curl at the overwhelming fullness.
And then he starts to move.
He pulls out slowly, the drag of his shaft making my pussy walls flutter. I clench around him, trying to keep him inside. He chuckles at my desperation.
"Such a greedy little cunt. Ain't never had dick this good, huh?"
He slams back in and I wail, the force rocking me forward. My heavy tits sway beneath me, slapping together obscenely.
Kingston sets a punishing pace, pistoning in and out. His hips smack against my ass, the meaty collision echoing through the room. My whole body jolts with every thrust, tits and ass wobbling.
"Yeah, take that dick!" He grunts, sweat dripping onto my back. "Fuckin' love watchin' them phat ass cheeks ripple! Lookit them titties bounce!"
CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP
My pussy is making the most obscene squelching noises as he rails into me, the wet suction sounds filling the room. It mixes with the heavy musk of arousal and sweat, an intoxicating primal funk.
"Guh guh guh guh!" I grunt with every impact, drool running down my chin. My tits swing wildly beneath me, heavy nipples grazing the sheets. The sensation is electric, zings of pleasure-pain shooting straight to my core.
Kingston grips my hair like a leash, wrenching my head back. I yelp, scalp burning as he uses it as leverage to fuck into me harder.
"This what you needed, huh? A real man to fuck this little Korean cunt?"
CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP
He's ruining me, reshaping my insides. Every brutal thrust nudges my cervix, makes my eyes roll back. I'm babbling now, a steady stream of "Ah ah ah ah!" punched out of me.
My ass ripples with every impact, deep waves of jiggle. I can feel my cheeks turning red, the sting of his hand print. He's grunting above me, hips hammering at a frenzied pace.
CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP
Time loses meaning, I've been reduced to a hole, a thing, a toy for his pleasure. Part of me hates it, part of me is horrified... but the body I'm in sings, cunt clenching happily around his brutal cock. My brain is melting, overloaded on chemicals and hormones. I feel at once completely degraded and bafflingly blissful.
With a grunt, Kingston pulls out suddenly. Before I can even whimper at the loss, he's flipping me over onto my back. My tits slosh heavily, slapping me in the face with the abrupt motion. I lay there dazed, legs splayed obscenely, pussy gaping and twitching.
He looms over me, a sheen of sweat covering his muscular body. His huge cock juts out, slick with my juices and twitching menacingly. There's a mad glint in his eye, a predatory hunger.
Wordlessly, he grabs my ankles, pushing my knees up to my ears. The position leaves me folded in half, completely exposed and vulnerable. My chubby pussy mound is on full display, fat lips spread around my clenching hole.
He positions himself at my entrance, cockhead kissing my swollen folds. I tense, knowing what's coming.
And then he SLAMS back into me, his heavy hips crashing into the backs of my thighs. I scream, the new angle driving him impossibly deep. It feels like he's in my guts, stretching me in ways I didn't know were possible.
"FUCK! This pussy grips!" he roars, immediately setting a ruthless pace. He's pounding down into me, using gravity to aid his assault. My whole body jolts with every thrust, tits bouncing and slapping against my face. The sound of his balls smacking my ass is obscene, echoing through the room with meaty thwaps.
My cunt squelches noisily around him, sloppy and sopping wet. The lewd sounds mingle with my whorish moans and his grunts of effort, a debauched symphony.
He leans down suddenly, mashing my ankles back as he captures my mouth in a searing kiss. I whimper in shock, lips slack as he forces his tongue inside. He licks into me aggressively, all teeth and spit and domination. I can only take it, accept it, submit to his brutal passion.
He pulls back with a gasp, a strand of saliva connecting our mouths. His hips never stop moving, jackhammering into my abused cunt.
"You stupid fuckin' slut," he laughs breathlessly. "Y-you really thought... unf... I was gonna let that b-bitch ass nigga Percy in my frat?"
I freeze beneath him, his words cutting through the haze of pleasure. "W-what?"
He grins cruelly, sweat dripping onto my face. "You got played, babygirl. Ain't no way I'm letting that scrawny simp join Omega Psi." His pace increases, hips crashing against my ass. "I just wanted to see what that - huff - mouth do."
My heart stops. Despair floods my system, warring with the rising tide of ecstasy. He used me. This was all for nothing.
But I can't focus on that now, because something is building inside me, something huge and terrifying and unstoppable. My cunt starts to flutter around him, the tell-tale tremors of an impending orgasm.
"N-no," I whimper, eyes rolling back. "I c-can't, I'll - hnnngh!"
"Yeah you can," Kingston growls. "Cum on this dick, you Asian whore. Fuckin' squirt on me like the pathetic bitch you are."
And that's all it takes.
My mind splinters, fuzz hazing my brain as I rocket into nuclear orbit.
"CummingcummingcummingAAAAAAHNNNNGGGHHHHHFUUUUUUCK!!" The moan rips from my throat, choked and keening.
It's not one orgasm. It's MANY, stacking on top of each other into impossible peaks, never giving me a moment to breathe before the next crashes over me. I'm twitching sporadically, little squealing "IH IH IH!" noises squeaking out as I let go utterly.
I squirt with a vengeance, gushing around his pistoning cock. It splatters his abs, his chest, piss on a hearth hissing like steam where my insane heat meets the cool air. He doesn't stop fucking through it, just drives into me harder, churning my cunt butter to froth.
My mind is in pieces, devastated by the orgasm. I've never felt anything like this, so intense it borders on pain. I feel disconnected from my body, floating above it all as I watch this busty woman get destroyed on a black cock.
The whole time, Kingston is laughing, taunting me. "Stupid fuckin' slut. Dumb whore. Who this pussy belong to, huh? Who own this cunt?"
"Y-you do!" I wail, pussy spasming around him. "You you you you aaAAHNNNNGGHH FUCK!"
And it's true. In this moment, he owns me. Owns this body. I'm not Percy. I'm Violet, Kingston's Omega Psi slut, existing only to be fucked dumb and split open on his huge dick.
But I can't think about that right now. Can't think about anything except the way he's rearranging my guts, the obscene sound of his balls slapping against my ass, the heavy weight of him crushing down on me as he pins me in place and just. Keeps. Fucking.
The room stinks of sex and sweat, the mattress creaking in protest beneath us. My tits bounce wildly with each thrust, slapping my chin, my face, each other. I'm drooling, eyes rolled back, completely mindless with pleasure.
Kingston's pace changes suddenly - shorter, sharper thrusts. His breathing gets ragged, muscles tensing. Oh god. Oh no.
"Gonna - unf - gonna nut in this pussy!" Kingston grunts, hips pistoning frantically. "Fill this bitch UP!"
I can only whimper in response, tits bouncing in my face as he rails into me. Each thrust sends ripples through my body, ass and thighs jiggling obscenely. I'm a rag doll, a fuck toy, existing only to be used and filled.
"Yeah yeah yeah, take this fuckin' nut!" he roars. "Bout to - shit - drown yo' fuckin' egg tunnel in this black baby batter!"
His cock throbs inside me, swelling impossibly larger. I can feel every ridge, every vein, stretching me beyond capacity. It's like a baseball bat shoved up inside me, pulsing with impending release.
"Bitch, this gon' RUIN you!" he laughs breathlessly, sweat dripping onto my face. "Ain't never gon' be satisfied by no white boy again!"
I moan brokenly, pussy clenching around him.
"Unnngh, here it comes!" Kingston's thrusts turn erratic, deep grinding motions. "Gonna fuckin' NUT, ugnh, gonna pump this pussy FULL of my fuckin' KIDS, unh, unh, UNNNNNGH FUCK!"
And then I feel it - a searing hot PULSE deep inside as the first thick rope of cum paints my insides. His cock FLEXES, the head flaring out, locking him in place as he begins to unload.
"AAAAAHNNNNGGGHHH SHIT shit shit shit!" he bellows, entire body tensing as he shoots jet after heavy jet of dick snot up into my guts. I can FEEL each spurt.
It's the most intense thing I've ever felt, being pumped full of jizz. My eyes roll back, drool leaking from my slack mouth as I take it, submit to being bred like a bitch in heat. I'm nothing, I'm no one, just a hole to fuck and fill.
"Mmmmnnngh FUCK! Take it slut, TAKE THAT NUT!" Kingston's voice is strained, words punched out of him as he cums and cums and cums. It feels endless, like he's emptying a gallon of ball snot into me.
He collapses on top of me, his sweaty bulk crushing me into the mattress. I can barely breathe under his weight. His softening cock slips out of me with a wet squelch and immediately a flood of jizz begins to ooze out. It's so much, far more than a human should be able to produce. He really did pump me full.
Kingston rolls to the side, one heavy arm still slung across my chest. He idly gropes a breast, chuckling breathlessly as it overflows his grasp.
"Damn girl, that shit was fire," he mumbles, voice heavy with satisfaction. "Ain't had pussy that good in a minute."
I just lay there, staring at the ceiling in a daze. Cum is steadily leaking out of me, puddling on the sheets beneath my ass. I can feel it dribbling down my taint, oozing out in sticky globs. My thighs are coated in it, the room reeking of bleach and musk.
"So..." I whisper hoarsely, afraid to hear the answer. "Percy... he's really not getting in?"
Kingston barks out a laugh, the sound almost cruel. "Nah baby, I was just caught up in the moment. My bad." He doesn't sound very sorry.
He sits up, grabbing a discarded shirt to wipe the cum and girl squirt off his abs. His dick, still intimidating even when soft, flops heavily against his thigh, a string of jizz connecting it to his happy trail.
"Look, it's for his own good, aiight?" he continues, tossing the soiled shirt aside. "Kid like that ain't built for Greek life. He can't hang."
Fresh tears spring to my eyes. This was all for nothing. I'm not Violet, the hero girlfriend. I'm just Percy, the pathetic virgin loser. And now I'm Percy, the pathetic virgin loser leaking another man's spunk.
Kingston glances over, taking in my devastated expression. He sighs, reaching out to pat my thigh consolingly. His hand nearly spans the width of it.
"Ay, don't be like that ma. I'll let him down gentle, yeah?" His fingers creep higher, ghosting over my abused slit. "Ain't gotta tell him about all this."
I flinch away from his touch, the sensation too much on my oversensitive flesh. He chuckles, withdrawing his hand to lick his fingers clean.
"Mmmm. That's some good pussy."
"Thanks," I manage weakly, then cringe at how pathetic I sound.
I try to stand but my legs are pure jello. My pussy is absolutely wrecked, cum dripping down my thighs. The industrial-strength bra is somewhere across the room.
Kingston watches with amusement as I wobble around gathering my clothes, my oversized tits swaying with every movement.
"Damn girl, you walk like a newborn giraffe!" he cackles. "My bad!"
I ignore him, pulling on my jeans and blouse with trembling hands. Everything feels gross and sticky. My hair is a disaster.
"Don't forget them tacos!" Kingston calls after me.
The walk downstairs is torture. My legs barely work, thighs rubbing together uncomfortably. The frat brothers wolf whistle and catcall as I pass.
I can't believe this started with a simple lie about having a girlfriend. Now here I am, doing the walk of shame out of the Omega Psi house, full of another man's... stuff.
The cool night air hits me as I step outside, making me shiver. I check my phone: 17 missed calls from Stuart.
Back in the dorm room, he practically vibrates with excitement. "Well? How'd it go? Did they like the food? Are we moving up the social hierarchy?" He frantically opens his spreadsheet.
"It was... fine," I mumble, trying not to waddle too obviously. My massive tits are still tender, nipples raw from rubbing against the bra. "They, uh, really enjoyed eating it."
"But what did Kingston say? About your bid?"
I shift uncomfortably, feeling another glob of... something... slide down my thigh. "He said he'd let Percy know."
"And the cooking? Was it authentic enough? Did they notice any fusion inconsistencies?" Stuart peers at me through his thick glasses. "Why are you walking funny? And what happened to your hair?"
"It was... really hot in there," I say lamely. "Lots of... physical activity. You know, serving food and stuff."
Stuart nods sagely, updating his spreadsheet. "Makes sense. The average temperature at frat parties tends to be 5-7 degrees higher than ambient due to body heat and alcoholic metabolism."
I collapse onto my bed, wincing. Everything hurts.
"So what's next?" Stuart asks eagerly. "When are you cooking for them again?"
I groan into my pillow. "Never. I'm never doing that again."
"But think of the social capital! The networking opportunities! The-"
"Stuart," I cut him off. "Just... delete the spreadsheet."
He gasps in horror, clutching his laptop.
I roll over carefully, my oversized breasts sloshing with the movement. "Some things aren't meant to be quantified."
Like how many times Kingston made me cum. Or how many loads he pumped into me. Or how I'm going to explain any of this to Percy when the pill wears off.
"At least tell me what they said about the Mexican-Korean fusion!" Stuart pleads.
I close my eyes, remembering Kingston's crude comments about my "Korean spice."
"They loved it," I say tiredly. "Really... really loved it."
I can't wait for my pill to wear off in a few hours.
Stuart beams, furiously typing. "I knew it! This changes everything! We're moving up at least three tiers in the social matrix!"
I let him ramble on about algorithms and social dynamics, too exhausted to correct him. Let him have his spreadsheets and theories.
Some experiences just can't be captured in data.
---
Next afternoon, I'm Percy again, sitting in my dorm room. The memories of my time as Violet feel like a fever dream, but my body remembers. I can still feel phantom sensations - the heavy breasts bouncing with each step, the tight squeeze around Kingston as he...
I flush, shifting uncomfortably. Part of me misses that overwhelming fullness, that sense of complete submission. But I'm also relieved to be back in my own skin, my own body. No more industrial-strength bras or hungry stares. No more feeling like a piece of meat on display.
Stuart is still going on about social hierarchies and data points, but I'm barely listening. I'm thinking about Kingston's hands on my waist, his breath on my neck, the way he made me feel so small and helpless and...
I shake my head, trying to clear it. Those aren't my memories. That wasn't me. Right?
My phone buzzes. It's Kingston: "Yo Percy, bad news about Omega. But your girl Violet? She something else. Keep her close bro 😈"
I stare at the message, a hysterical laugh bubbling up. If he only knew. Though part of me wonders what he'd do if he found out the truth - that the tight Asian pussy he'd bred belonged to the scrawny nerd he'd rejected.
"Percy?" Stuart peers at me over his laptop. "You okay? You look flushed."
"Yeah," I say, shifting again as phantom sensations ghost through me. "Just... processing."
Being Violet was intense, overwhelming, terrifying... and maybe the hottest thing I've ever experienced. I'll never look at girls the same way again, knowing how it feels to be on the receiving end of that hungry male gaze. To be wanted. To be taken.
But I'm glad to be me again. Mostly.
At least the tacos were good.