Heyyy! I’m tired of looking how I do now. I’m a thin, 5’8” ginger and yearn for something more eye catching. I really want to be bigger. Like I want to be one of those big beefy himbos with more ass than brains! I’d love to be a dumb slutty himbo whore for a big daddy!
The door to the Transformation Bar slammed shut behind me. I was tired. Tired of my skinny body, my 5'7" height that never caught anyone's eye, my red hair that screamed "fragility." I wanted to be something else. I wanted to be more. Much more.
I approached the bar, where a man—a real man, with a beard that spoke of command and appraising eyes—was polishing a glass. "I'm tired of this," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "I want to be… flashy. Big. Like one of those muscle-bound idiots with more ass than brains. I want to be a stupid, beautiful slut for a daddy."
Leo, the bartender, didn't blink. His dark eyes shone with a perverse understanding. "I see the void that demands to be filled," he said, his voice a sensual hum. "Not just with muscle. With purpose. To serve. To please." He picked up a bottle of a bright pink, almost phosphorescent liquor. "This is 'The Hymn of the Golden Troy.' It'll sculpt you for your Daddy."
I drank. It was sweet, like melted candy, but with a metallic aftertaste, like a bite.
The transformation wasn't an improvement. It was a reconstruction.
An intense, almost painful heat coursed through me. I felt my light bones thicken to support the new weight. Then, my muscles. They didn't grow, they exploded. My shoulders broadened, my pectorals swelled into two hard, full balls, so prominent they stretched my shirt until it tore. My arms became columns of thick, defined muscle, my biceps bulging with the slightest movement. But the most profound transformation occurred behind me. I felt an electric pain, a sense of expansion and filling in my buttocks. My ass swelled and rose, becoming two firm balls, round and perfect, a lewd and magnificent offering that pushed against the fabric of my pants.
I ran my hands through my hair. I felt the color change, becoming a platinum blonde with pink highlights, long and thick, like a true slut. My once-sharp features softened into a vacant, accessible beauty.
Then, the most intimate change. A moist, pulsing heat pierced my groin. My penis swelled until it was hard, heavy, and ready, a weapon of pleasure that seemed to beat to the rhythm of my heart. A warm dampness, not sweat, soaked my thighs. I was aroused, not by a complex thought, but by the very idea of being used.
My mind went blank. Complex thoughts vanished, replaced by a single, clear desire: to serve a Daddy. To please. To be handsome, obedient, and available.
I looked in the mirror. The skinny, plain boy was gone. In his place was a retarded Greek god. Huge, muscular, with a dreamy ass and slutty hair. I flexed an arm, the muscle bulging beneath the golden skin. A shiver of pleasure ran through me, and my cock throbbed harder, a reminder of its readiness.
"Yes," I whispered, my voice now a stupid, sexy baritone. "Perfect for a Daddy."
Leo smiled, possessive. "He'll wait for his master. And you, you'll wait. You already know what to do."
I nodded, my new mind empty and happy to have such a simple purpose. I was a muscled slut. A beautiful idiot. And I couldn't wait for a real man to show me what I was good for.
theartofmadeline
gracieabrams
stormborns
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