Once and Future Bimbo Pt. 04

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Syn meets Christine, then dominates Jasper.
6.6k words
4.36
25.3k
11

Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 09/03/2015
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In spite of the glaring sunlight and oppressive 90 degree heat, the outside felt so much cooler than the inside of the club, a nice breeze blew in from the south. The excruciating brightness of the sun forced me quickly across the parking lot, I stumbled, feeling high as fuck after pushing my compulsion on so many people. I picked my way through the beat up trucks and shabby cars in the shared space between the strip club and porn shop. The open sign flickered in the grimy window, I sprinted up the steps in my patent leather stilettos with about two grand in cash and a handgun in a small paper bag. I grabbed the door handle, pausing to pull the door open, I caught my still unfamiliar distorted reflection in the glass. Behind the midnight blue of my porcelain face mask, my eyes turned completely black, just like the people in the strip club I compelled to do my will just moments before.

I pulled the door open, staggering half blind in to the air conditioning, five steps beyond the check out counter and the anti-theft scanner, to the print and video pornography where the light was less brutal. Blinking my eyes repeatedly, I hoped I could return them to normal, somehow. I bumped right into someone's enormous rear end.

"Shit!"

She spat out in surprise as she dropped all her DVD selections. She was a half dozen years older than me, a bit shorter, she was still fairly tall, at 5'9", and must have been at least three hundred and fifty pounds. She kept her weight in a bra-less pair of tits as massive as mine, a rolling belly, rounded wide ass, and heavy thighs. Embarrassed, she squatted down, floundering to reach the DVD cases, the hang of her belly forced her knees wide to the side, spreading her legs open and her dress hiked up high to get down low enough to reach them. I'm positive her ass and pussy saw the light of day in the process of retrieving the cases. She held a fan of DVD rentals in her left hand, "Massive Dicked Mule Studs, Pity Fucked SSBBW Freak-shows, Fat Fuckers, Hardcore Humongous Bondage Heifers, Leftover Lovers, and Golden Shower Whale Humiliation."

"Fuck, I am so sorry! It was so bright outside, I can't see anything in here yet."

My voice lilted, pitched and sing-songy in the moment and almost husky the next. Covering my eyes, I cringed inwardly before focusing on the person I'd just smacked so hard that she'd dropped all her shit. She wasn't exactly the type I'd think of as a porno shop patron. If it weren't for the smut in her hands, I'd have thought she was part of a bridal party, dragged against her will by some naughty maid of honor who was bound and determined to embarrass all her friends. Given the DVD titles in her hand, I thought she was looking for porn about large women like herself. That would have made sense. It was the simplest answer. But when I looked into her eyes, suddenly, I saw more. I felt a deep seated, barely contained shame and pain radiating from the core of her being. The porn titles painted a sad picture, but she desired, needed something desperately. I felt her despair and longing for humiliation and degradation. The images that soon filled my thoughts, became so vile and vivid that I had to close down the connection. She turned and looked up at me, her eyes dilating as she looked in my direction. She blushed and squinted her eyes in shame, closing the fan of videos in her thick little fingers.

"Are you one of the dancers from next door?"

Looking down from my cleavage to my stilettos, she shifted her feet in her hippy sandals.

"What? No, I'm sorry, no. I've danced once, but I wouldn't say I'm a dancer."

Her thickly lashed eyes, with perfect eyeliner looked me up and down, as I smoothed down my dress, not so slyly trying to keep my bits covered.

"With that body, you should be a dancer. What are you doing here?"

I grabbed my barely contained tits with both hands, bouncing them up and down for comic effect.

"I'm trying to find some clothes that fit these torpedoes, and Macy's closed down their bimbo collection, so I don't have many options."

She smiled for a second, and looked down at the unfashionable garment that didn't quite contain the vast expanse of her own body. From my vantage point, I could tell her cleavage could hold a wine bottle or a small ham, above her belly.

"I have the same problem!"

Her response was so spontaneous, I giggled, making my tits quake. I did my best to not look directly at the man stacking the boxes.

Her eyes widened, staring at my undulating breasts.

"Are they real?!"

She looked closer checking for a scar or flaw.

"They're all me! I'm Syn."

~Your tits are as real as anything else about you.~ Sandra's voice sniped at me from inside my head. Out of habit, out of Sandra's habit, I extended my hand to her. As our hands touched, I felt the tendril of her thoughts connect to mine.

"Christine. Why are you wearing that mask? That's the real reason I thought you might be a dancer."

She gestured at herself, then my mask. I didn't have anything to gain by lying, and I might as well get comfortable with the truth. I'm sure that I'm going to have to give this explanation many more times in the future.

"My face is disfigured, from a procedure that went wrong, the mask is easier for people to look at."

I touched the porcelain with the fingertips of my left hand, and Sandra thought, ~when they gave you this body and fucked up your face.~

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think you'll ever go home alone."

Her shoulders slumped, no poker face on this one, she expressed everything she felt across her entire body. Over her shoulder, a massive bull of a man shifted his muscles under his shirt, he moved dozens of small boxes filled with a large variety of sex toys. He seemed at least to me, to be watching her with a barely contained lust. Unlike the rest of the men I'd been in contact with, I couldn't get a read on him, not a glimmer of his emotions or desires. The fact that he didn't even glance at me, gave me more information than I needed, I wasn't his type.

And that was okay.

It didn't kill me. Contrary to the thoughts the voice of Sandra was still spitting at me, I didn't die. I was okay.

I was surprised that I was unable to sway him at all.

Still smiling, still engaged in the conversation with Christine, I set my hip and focused my mind in his direction. At first nothing noticeable happened, then he winced, like he had a sudden headache. He stared at me so hard I had to look away.

"May I ask you a question?"

When I asked, her shoulders rode up higher with anxiety.

"You mean like 'are you a dancer and oh, are your tits real?' "

The color returned to her cheeks, and she stole a glance down my cleavage before returning her gaze respectfully to my thick nipples as they rode up and down under the fabric as I breathed. I had ruled out the possibility that she was gay because of the big cock shit in her porn selections, and I found that even though my compulsion goes a long way to increase how desirable I am to people, she had to be bi at the very least. This body had a serious effect on Christine.

"Mmm, maybe."

"Shoot."

I bent at the waist all the way down to the floor, risking my tits falling out everywhere, and scooped up the one DVD she missed when they fell.

"What's 'Hucow Humpers' about?"

All the colors fled from her face, as I presented the DVD case to her. On the cover, a BBW woman, barely dressed in a pair of faded thready overalls, and cow ears held her thick nipple and a milk bottle, "A Phil her Up, production." Behind Christine, the large man with the huge septum piercing, who was obviously eavesdropping, fumbled a stack of boxes that scattered and hit the ground with a crash. I smiled when a steady stream of foreign profanity laced the air heading in the big man's direction. Christine shuddered, and her eyes rolled back when our fingers touched, she braced herself against them DVD case.

"Well... farmers kidnap huge titted women for their dairy, they feed them, breed them, and bulls fuck them day and night. The only times they don't fuck the fatties, is when the farmers hook their titties up to milking machines, and sometimes even then... The over time, these women transform, becoming physically more and more like cows. Can you imagine transforming like that?"

Frighteningly, yes, I could.

"I can't think of anything more humbling than having your own body taken from you and changed into something else, to become a means to someone else's end. The BBW porn stars make it look so real, in the beginning, they look so scared. As they transform, it's so gradual, the production value is amazing, you see how obsessed they get for cock, how much they need to be fucked! At the end, they leave them in a corral and they act like empty headed cows. I've rented it five times, now. It's my favorite DVD, I should just buy it, I've looked for 'Phil her up' productions and I can't find them. God I want to get fucked by a bull."

This was the most animated I'd seen her, her eyes blissful, and almost normal since I reined in my compulsion. It was a muscle, this power, a muscle I was learning to flex.

"Bulls like that big guy over there?"

She blushed all the way through her cleavage. She laughed self consciously, her nipples hardened visibly.

"Um, yeah..."

The big guy vanished, reappearing with more boxes of sex toys. Christine inhaled deeply looking over at him.

"That's a pretty fantastic premise. Do you like that kind of thing?"

Still watching him work, she lied to me.

"*I DON'T KNOW.* No one's ever wanted me enough to keep me."

I reached out to her, holding her by the wrist, I could feel her pulse under my thumb. The words of her lie stood out to me like they were written in red ink.

"Christine, Be a sweetheart and tell me the truth. Do you *Like* that kind of thing?"

She started to sweat, grind her thighs together and rub that hand full of DVD cases against her nipple. She cried.

"It's all I ever think about. Men like him fucking me, girls like you pissing on me, I can't help myself. I came so hard when they humiliated me, tied down, in the van, I know I'm not pretty, I need someone to keep treating me that way. I'm a pig, fat and lazy, and I need someone to use me hard and ignore me. Someone to take me completely then carelessly sell me. But nobody does, and nobody will, and I'm all alone. I'm desperate right now, because I've gotten so fat that I can't reach my pussy anymore to masturbate, I need someone to help me. I can't get off, I need to get off, I chickened out at the glory-hole because I can't fit into that tiny box. I can't even suck a cock anonymously, God I want to, and it's making me completely crazy."

She moaned quietly, a bit of drool at her chin. I could compel her to go next door to the strip club. Right now, with the way I left them, she could get more than enough of what she wanted. No. They didn't deserve her, and sure as hell she didn't deserve them.

"Thank you for telling me the truth, Christine. I think that it's quite alright if you forget this last little bit of our conversation. When you go home, I want you to watch your movies, treat yourself to a manipedi or something, and sleep well. I want you to consider dating, I'm sure you will find what you are looking for. I enjoyed meeting you, I hope you feel the same way."

I let go of her wrist. She looked up at me a little flushed, and a little embarrassed. I could smell her arousal. The entirety of her eyes had gone black with the amount of compulsion I pushed into her for the truth.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and moved toward the Asian man at the check out. She shuffled in her well worn Birkenstocks to the register. As he collected her video rentals, she grabbed a flier for fetish speed dating, "fatty fuckers."

"Would you tell me more about this speed dating meet up?"

"Meets at the strip club next Monday at 11:30 before lunch, most desperate pervs, terrible thing, you shouldn't go miss."

She smiled thumbing her right nipple. The bull man haunted her every movement from behind the stacks. He moved when she moved, paying no attention to me again.

"Thank you."

I considered my future life as an obscenely big titted lie detector, and moved to the clothing section of the store in the back.

"You're not going to be alone for long."

She couldn't hear me, lost in the scramble left in her thoughts after being compelled so strongly.

Christine rang out her video rental, and scurried out with her head down, looking (theoretically) at her feet. The Asian man shook his head at her as she floated toward the exit, clutching the flyer with her sack of porn. The large bull of a man coveted her every step across the shop. He crept up to the door as she left.

"Jasper, I'm taking lunch."

His voice rumbled out across the store, so very deep, but quiet.

"Lock the door and flip the sign, Gordon."

Gordon muscled through the door, locking up with a heavy click.

Beyond the heavily loaded shelves of paper porn, DVDs, and novelties sat a few quiet "viewing rooms." Even at this distance through the walls and closed doors, I could smell the remnants of man cum that hadn't quite been cleaned away by the aggressive bleachings and moppings. Too much cum for casual porn wanking, a hint of perfume... Was it the glory hole Christine talked about? It must be.

Was it instinct, was it a new notion hard wired into the operating system of this new body? I might never know, but I turned hungrily towards the smell. After causing a gang bang next door, but not partaking in the fun, the ache in my belly demanded feeding. I took three steps in the direction of those little rooms, all I'd have to do is sit there and wait. I could smell the unwashed working man's cocks, the unused virgin cocks, and I could smell the lightly powdered cock of the man standing behind me.

"Hello lovely lady! I didn't realize you were shopping or I wouldn't have locked you inside. My name is Jasper Lee, I am the owner of the store, and I will be more than happy to help you with your shopping today if you like."

Jasper was a smallish man, his features I recognized as possibly Japanese, but I was not expert enough to make that assertion aloud. He didn't seem phased at all by the half-mask I wore, or my ill fitting clothes, or my tits in his face, or the fact that I towered above him. Jasper Lee smelled of soap and tea, he radiated a pleasant friendly aura.

"Yes, Mr. Lee, I would love some help. My measurements changed, and I need a brand new wardrobe."

He looked me up and down, not immediately with lust, but like he genuinely wanted to help me.

"Many of my customers have sudden measurement changes, I assure you, you are in good hands and scandalous company."

He pointed to the club next door, and I laughed in spite of myself, knowing that I'd compelled the crowd into pulling a train on the misogynist pig DJ at this very moment. He pulled a fabric measuring tape from the pocket of his apron.

"The changing room is behind the counter, I will unlock it for you when you are ready. First, let's get some measurements and get you in the ballpark for sizes. If you need anything, feel free to ask and I will happily assist, step over there and we'll get you measured. "

He turned and stepped behind the counter and into the storage area across from the changing room.

"I was measured recently, but it's very possible that I haven't stopped changing. Measuring is probably a good idea."

He ran the tape measure over my curves, reverently and innocently. He had not made skin to skin contact with my body.

"Well, you've got a wide root, ride neither high nor low on the chest, full breasted on the bottom, with a wide areola, fairly thick nipples, and you would have had a cello shape to the rest of your body if not for the increase in the size of your bust line. This is amazing work, how many CC's are your implants?"

"Um, there are no implants, I've had a... Growth spurt of a sort. I'm supposed to be 6' 1", 38-25-35 32G."

Jasper's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

"They're natural!"

He openly examined my bust, whipping his tape measure around my hips, waist, and under my bust line.

"I'm going to measure you over the nipple, then I need to measure the same while you bend at the waist, and the same while you lay on your back here on the table, ok?"

"Okay, Jasper, I'm in your hands."

He measured me carefully, with a practiced chaste hand, that was starting to shake a bit since unconsciously laying his hand on the skin under my breast.

"I hate to be the one to break it to you miss, but you're a little off the mark. 42-26-37 my estimation puts you closer to 34H!"

I smiled at him, it was a little naive to think that this body was done changing. Maybe my changes were connected to my use of compulsion. His eyes dilated, seeking me out and at this point, I'm absolutely starved for cock.

"Ma'am is there anything I can do for you?"

Mr. Lee laced his fingers, caught a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth with his handkerchief. He swayed, floating in a cloud of the mood altering pheromones my body exuded. He belonged to me.

"Yes Mr. Lee, I really don't know what will fit me, I don't have much experience with these kind of clothes. Would you assist me in selecting them?"

"Of course! I would love to, please call me Jasper."

Like the men in the strip club, his will was mine. Unlike those men, I liked this Jasper Lee. The thought of him serving me like some sort of sexual Renfield was almost appealing.

I browsed the racks of fetish clothing and bondage gear.

Sandra would never have set foot in a place like this. Skinny little self-righteous Sandra, felt porn shops and strip clubs encouraged men to degrade women, helping men to turn women into objects for pleasure. I could feel her disgust within me, and of me, even as acknowledged that an object of lust is exactly what I have become.

I gleefully raided the rack of stripper clothes. Just the act of selecting clothes made my pussy wet, and soon my scent reached Mr. Lee behind the counter. By this time, I had a large accumulation of dresses and shoes, that I was aching to try out. None of these outfit would have ever suited Sandra, skinny little Sandra, sainted feminist Sandra, and now I had a body actually built for Syn, for me. Mr Lee peaked around the corner. I handed over the armful of clothes and shoes.

"Jasper, after you start a cue for me, why don't you run through your store and recommend for me the things you think I need? I'll be over there in a moment to try things on."

Jasper practically sprinted through the store making selections. The rack of clothes for me to try on quickly filled, and the pile of shoe boxes reached *my* waist. Jasper gathered more than just dresses and shoes. Lingerie, bondage gear, and fetish wear populated Jasper's cue.

He stood beside the clothes and the dressing room, his cock hard in his pants. At first I thought that he might be sly, as small and effeminate as he first appeared, but the growing stain of pre-cum at his crotch told a different story.

I picked up a dog collar from the bondage corner on my way to the dressing room. As I stepped in front of him, towering over the small man, my tits in his face, I belted the collar around his neck. He groaned and slouched as I touched his skin.

"Lose the clothes, Jasper, you're making a mess of your pants."

"Yes ma'am."

He bowed his head and somewhat frantically shucked his clothes into his office. His surprisingly adequate penis, bobbed at the end of it's seven and a half inches with the rapid beat of his pulse. The apple of his cock leaked a steady stream of barely restrained desire.

For an older man, he was beautiful and almost girlish, the bones of his hips made complex curves that drew my eye to his manhood.

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