Character Creation Ch. 08

My critical thinking. My self-confidence. My high school education.

All sorts of super boring stuff.

"Anything?" George asked when he saw me just standing there.

"Nuh, uh," I said. I would've told him about me becoming a dummy, but I was already having a hard time remembering being smart.

"Look BB, let's just take some time to think this over. That rod is dangerous. It could do anything! Why don't you just put it down, all right?"

"Um, OK!" I dropped it. Good. George always knew what to do. I should listen to him. So I did. I stood there, and waited for him to say something else.

"BB?" he said, coming closer, right up next to me. "Bianca? Are... you OK?"

"Nope!" I said. This felt like a dumb question. Was he testing me? I sucked at tests. "I'm purple, and I have giant boobies and I lost all my big strong muscles and I have a big round sexy butt and my nipples are real sensitive and this dumb rod won't help!"

He paused. "Bianca, try to focus. The last time you used the rod, did anything happen? Anything at all?"

I tried to think. "Um, I think it might've squeezed my brain some?"

"Squeezed your... BB, I think you might've messed yourself up."

"Aw, that sucks. I'm always doing that lately," I said.

"Doesn't that worry you?"

"Um, yes? Is that the right answer?" It felt like he wanted me to be worried.

"Oh shit. BB, I think that rod fried your brain. Turned you... punchy."

"Oh." I said. "Is that bad? Do you want me to use it again? I'll do whatever you think is best."

George paused a moment, and I saw him looking at my big boobs. Not that he could see much in this dumb sweatshirt, though it was stretched nice and tight over them. I wonder if he wanted to see them? Hopefully he'd tell me if he did. We'd never fucked or nothing, but if he thought we should then I wanted to.

"Whatever I... Oh shit. No, no, I can't take advantage of you."

"But George, you're the one who shaped me into the girl I am today! If you don't get to take advantage, that's super unfair!"

"No, no -- we definitely shouldn't use it again. Oh shit. Only... fuck, there's no way a doctor is going to be able to fix this. Maybe... maybe one more?"

"OK!" I said. Without hesitating, I picked up the rod and used it on myself again.

Whoa. I guess I stopped time. In front of me, George stood perfectly still, his face frozen into one of those weird expressions like when you pause the DVD player. I giggled. That was funny.

"You summoned me, miss?" came a voice behind me. I turned, and there stood a gigantic guy, all red and horns and fiery. I screamed, but he told me not to be afraid, so I stopped.

"Who are you?"

"I am Malik Khurro Drok Rozharik Zaldjan. You summoned me. I can grant you one wish of your choosing. So choose wisely!" his voice thundered.

"Oh!" This was big. Holy geez, a wish? I might be dumb, but I knew I needed to do something about all this trouble I'd caused. That'd make George happy for sure. "Can you undo the rod stuff?"

His burning eyes glanced down to where I clenched it in one nervous hand. "Of course -- I've been watching you use it from the border ethereal, and I'm surprised you made it as long as you did without killing someone. Which changes did you wish to undo? All of them? The explosion? The foliage, the body, the dimwittedness, the purpleness...? Just make your wish, and it shall be so."

That had been a lot of options -- too confusing! "Um, the last one?" Hopefully that was a good one. I hated having to make decisions.

"Very well. Just say, 'I wish I wasn't purple' and it shall be done."

There! Finally, someone just telling me what to do already. "I wish I wasn't purple and it shall be done."

"No, you weren't supposed to say... oh well, it doesn't really matter. DONE!" He clapped his hands twice, and then time resumed. He was gone, and George's face stopped being frozen and silly.

"It worked!" George said giddily, then paused. "Well, you're not purple any more. You're still..."

"Dumb?" I asked. "Or slutty-looking?"

He sighed. "I'm guessing both."

"Oh. Yeah, the big fire man said I only got one wish. Did I do it bad?"

"You could wish for anything, and you chose to stay like this?" he asked incredulously.

"Um, sure? I dunno, I wasn't paying a ton of attention. Why, don't you like me like this? You can't stop looking at my titties."

"I'm not... they're just... you're so..." He was staring now. Who could blame him? They were crazy big. It was nice, kind of, having a boy notice. Why had I never wanted them to notice my tits before? Not that I'd really had tits when I was a muscly fighter girl. Blech.

So I just stood and thrust my chest out and let him look. I didn't really know what else to do. Maybe I could use the rod again?

Entranced as my boobies were making him, he still noticed me lifting the thing into ready position, and quickly snatched it away from me. "No! No more using this, you hear me? Don't you see what it's done to you already?"

I looked, like he said. "Um, made me really hot? Kinda horny too, if you wanna know the truth, but I think that's from you staring at me more than the rod. Oh, and because it made my nipples really tingly."

My manager couldn't help but glance down, where even through the bulky material, they were easily noticeable. "They... they are?"

I nodded. "Yeppers! Wanna see?" I could tell he did, so I just went right ahead and took off the sweatshirt. Obviously none of my old bras fit my big new boobies, so I wasn't wearing one.

"BB... wow. Those are... spectacular."

I grinned. Compliments were nice, too. "Thanks!" I waited, but he just kept staring. "Um, so like, what now George?"

"Can... can I...?"

"What, you wanna feel 'em?"

He nodded.

"Well sure! I might be kind of a ditz now, but I still remember rule #1!" I grinned, and recited it from what was left of my memory. "Always do whatever my manager says."

That made him smile, which made me smile even bigger. Then he grabbed one of my boobies in each hand, and that made me smile even bigger somehow! Then when I thought my cheeks would kersplode from smiling, he took one of my big red nipples into his mouth and started sucking on it.

"George, I'm gonna cream my panties!" I said, giggling. I didn't think he'd care, really, but giving him feedback was important.

"Well we can't have that," he said. "On your knees, BB. Hmm, we may have to find a new nickname for you. 'BB Gun' doesn't really fit you any more, does it?"

"Sounds goo to me!" I said, dropping to my knees in the muddy patch of grass.

"I'll think on it. In the meantime... you ever sucked a cock before?"

I considered. "Um, not really? Boys, like, never really seemed to want me to before."

"Well then," he said, patting me on the head. "You just listen to your manager, and I'll help show you the ropes."

I always took my training seriously. I took his cock into my mouth, and did my best to follow his instructions to the T.

After that, George proved that he was still the best manager a girl like me could ever have! He rebuilt me from scratch. There were so many things to learn!

First, came the basics, like learning the right tools for the job. At first we nearly threw out my whole old wardrobe, but then George noticed how a lot of my old shirts were super crazy tight on my titties so we just cut them to show off my soft tummy (no more sixpack to gross boys out!). Then we took my jeans and pants and cut them so everyone cuold see my whole legs and part of my butt. (Stupid me, I asked about bras and panties, but George reminded me not to question him, and just wear what I was told to wear.)

So I did. Duh.

Then I had to do some conditioning. Just like the first time he'd trained me, I had to unlearn all the ways my body was used to doing things. I learned some new footwork, adjusting to super high heels, putting one foot in front of the other so my big butt jiggled right. What a difference it made! I made a boy walk into a street lamp the other day because he turned to stare at me and couldn't stop staring. I giggled and winked at him -- like I'd been trained to do when I saw a boy checking me out.

Of course, footwork wasn't enough. He taught me how to use my hands again -- how to run my fingers through my hair to shove my tits out, how to look sexy sucking on my fingers, how to fondle and squeeze myself to get a guy hard, how to play with my tits, how to stroke my pussy, and -- of course -- how to please a man.

He found me lots of sparring partners! At first it was just him, and I sucked his cock like five times a day. (I wanted to fuck him but he said I had to learn the basics first. It was frustrating, but I wanted to be the best!) Then he said if I was going to get any better I'd need more practice than he could give me.

Then I wound up with more cocks than I knew what to do with! It was weird, sparring with guys, but they took it easy on me at first while I was learning. They would tell me I was pretty, say how hot my tits and ass were. One guy even went down on me! Then when I told George he said that's not what I was here to learn and from now on I had to take my training seriously. I said I would.

After weeks and weeks of sucking every cock that I saw -- which was too many to count, even if I were much of a counter any more -- he finally said I was ready to try some more advanced techniques. That day, George let me practice titty-fucking him! Of course, I wasn't very good at it at first, but he was firm and patient and told me just how he wanted it done.

Before long, he said I was good enough to take on more partners, and geez were there just tons of guys waiting to help me train! Honestly, I got so used to guys cumming all over me and then having another guy come in almost before George could spritz me off, that when one of them instead flipped me over and fucked me, I didn't really notice.

I told George after, when I noticed the man's cum leaking out of me and realized what I'd done. He looked upset for a moment, then said he'd probably been holding me back too long, and agreed it was time to take my training to the next level. For the next few days, I never even got out of bed, I just lay there and took cock after cock after cock. "Like a champ," George said. That felt good. His little champ.

He did get around to giving me a new nickname, by the way! He came up with it when I was sucking his cock, and he was getting kinda tired so it was hard to get him hard (a thought so funny it almost short-circuited my tiny brain). So I started begging like I'd been trained to -- guys love it when a hot slut begs them for some cock.

"I swear, girl, you're like a machine." He suddenly grinned. "That's it! That's how we'll bill you from now on. No more BB Gun -- now you're the BJ Machine!"

I would have thanked him, but there was a cock in my mouth.

In time, he said I was going to need to learn my way around women again, which sounded smart. If I was gonna be any good, I'd need to spar against people like me. Cum dumpsters. (Some guys like to call me that, for some reason; I asked George if he'd given me another nickname, but he said fans would call me what they would.)

So he got me some girls to work on. A lot of the matches were unfair -- I was a lot sexier than most of them, and my T&A were totally hotter, and a lot of us definitely weren't in the same weight division. I didn't let that stop me, though. I soaked up everything I could from my lady partners -- how to stimulate a clit, how to hold your breath with someone sitting on your face, how to get my tongue to stretch longer, how to talk like their little fantasy sluts.

Soon, I was getting pretty good at it. I could make girls orgasm over and over with hardly any effort at all. So one night, after I'd gotten another round of getting plugged at both ends in, I looked up at George and asked a question. I knew he didn't like me to question him, but once in a while he let me get away with it, if I'd been good.

"Um, George? When am I gonna get a real match? I, like, haven't even been in the ring since I turned myself hot and stupid. I wanna put myself out there! You know, see if I'm any good. Maybe even make a little money."

George chuckled. "You don't need worry about that last part."

"OK." I stopped worrying about it. "But, like, can I? Compete? I feel like you've trained me so good, but I need to get out there and see if I can still whack it!" Or was it hack it? Whatever. "Do... do you think I could still get a title shot?"

He gave me a long look. "I tell you what, my little BJ Machine. I'll see what I can do."

The very next day, I found myself face to face with Rita Shelton, the Basilisk herself. Just the look in her eyes was enough to turn me into soft, jiggly putty. Here she was, a woman I'd been preparing for for more than a year. "You ready?" George asked from the doorway.

"I've been ready for this my whole life." As Rita lowered her shorts, I sunk to my knees and unloaded with all my best stuff. The bitch didn't know what hit her.

*****

The introduction of chaos, especially when in terms of chaotic PCs, can be a source of frustration for a DM. What does one do when one's carefully laid plans are scattered to the winds of pandemonium? Inexperienced DMs will be tempted to force their agenda on players, "railroad them," as it is often called, orchestrating events so that his design comes to fruition regardless.

A talented DM, however, will learn to be flexible and to roll with the punches. Have some "random" encounters planned for unforeseen circumstances. Introduce NPCs, both friendly and inimical, who share this penchant for surprising the players just as they surprise you. Think on your feet. Improvise! Above all, remember that a game is supposed to be fun, and even if the story may not follow in a linear fashion, many of the best stories involve an twist or two.