tagSci-Fi & FantasyXXXecil's: Blank Slate

XXXecil's: Blank Slate


(This story is left deliberately open for other authors to play with!)


Blossom reveled in the stares from the men and women alike as she sought a likely target. Even in a big city, someone like her would be sure to turn heads. Not that there truly was anyone like her, not yet. But this mall should serve her purposes nicely. Yes, she'd cased the area earlier, and found a bathroom where she knew there would be no security camera surveillance. Let them stare! Let them stare at the way her tight, white cocktail dress hugged her impossible curves and accentuated each soft swell of her hyper-voluptuous figure. And then there were her breasts. Jiggling mountains of jutting roundness that erupted from the top opening of her dress as if struggling to escape. Blossom knew what the shoppers and teenagers would be thinking as she strutted past the Health-Foods store, grip tightening on her black duffel bag she carried in her left hand, her purse slung over her right shoulder. Blossom was on her way to a hallway that ended in the bathrooms. And the stares, the disbelieving stares. The shape and curvature of her bosom suggested that the unlikely mammaries were real, but that couldn't be possible could it? Surely no woman alive could have ripe melons so vast, healthy and plump; not without extensive plastic surgery. But No, her voluminous endowments moved with too much natural softness to be bought from a surgeon. It was a bustiness that people would assume could not be humanly possible.

And they'd be right.

Ah! Yes! Heading towards the bathrooms right now; two very likely targets. One was a heavily overweight, forty-to-fiftyish black woman with close-shaven hair, a bloated figure, and not a hint of glamour. The sort of woman who was most likely lashing out against a beauty ideal she thought she couldn't match, by abandoning even a pretense of sex-appeal. The other older, white. Withered and aged, too weakened and tired to care any longer about clinging to a long-lost youth. They did not acknowledge each other at all. That was good; two strangers. Harder for anyone to make the connection.

Before Blossom slipped in behind the two of them, she stuck a printed sign that read "OUT OF ORDER" on the ladies' room door. Then, she removed from her pink purse a strange, metal rod with a button on the side. There was a third person in the ladies' room. Much younger than the first two, but the mouse-haired girl had a long-suffering, dejected look and walked with a limp. Could be an old injury, maybe congenital deformity. But her disfigurement barred her from the full joys of life and love and womanhood. Her eyes flitted about furtively with a shyness borne of lifelong disappointment and meek regret.

But that was about to change. Dramatically.

Three of them! Three! And they were all ideal candidates! This would be her best test of the Process since coming to this city! Blossom suppressed a moan of pure pleasure, as from within her shoulder-length, platinum blond hair, a living flower-bud pushed upwards and began to open of its own accord. None of her targets seemed to notice, but it wouldn't have mattered.

None of them would leave until she was done with them.

Her metal rod expanded to four times its prior length with the press of a button, and from the ends suction pads emerged that tilted back towards the door. Blossom stuck the device inside the metal loop of the door handle, and it attached itself with a sharp click. No one else would be able to interfere now. The black woman turned, and seemed like she was about to protest, and Blossom knew it was better to act quickly. She was already fully prepared. Inside Blossoms purse, there was a button, and a heavy, hard container of liquid. She had kept the mechanism primed for firing at an instant's notice, and that instant had come. From a hard-to-notice nozzle at the lower corner of the pink purse a powerful spray of pinkish gel erupted in a furious, high-pressure stream. They three women screamed and flailed and thrashed. But they had no chance. In less than a second, they were doused thoroughly. The pink gel reacted with oxygen in the air and began to foam. The foam reacted with their skin and started yet more biochemical excitement.

"Sooooon..." Blossom purred. This batch was as strong as anything she could have hoped for! She waved the sprayer around to ensure that each target got a near-equal dose, and that it was a full dose. Her best chance yet! Soon, the pink foam would melt away, but the transformations began long before that. Skin tightened, smoothed, softened. Fat melted, muscles toned. Flesh rippled as every single cell was penetrated by the cascading effect. Every single cell was accelerated in a way that defied the understanding of modern medicine. A Process so fast, so thorough could not be entirely pleasant, but the pain and pleasure mingled together in an electrifying experience that would be engraved in the minds of each woman for the rest of their lives. As fast as it was, it would still be nearly five minutes before the eventual results would be clear. Blossom tilted her head as a crackling sound reached her ears through the thrashing, foam-covered masses that flailed and twitched frantically on the tiled floor. Yes, bones being reformed. Natural, flawed bodies remade by the Process into works of living art. Penetrating yelps emerged from each throat in turn, and the women regained enough muscular control to try standing. The first to try was the elderly woman; Once elderly. But the moist, dripping creature pulling herself up on the counter better resembled a lush teenager who had been gifted with a plastic-surgery shopping spree for her eighteenth birthday. The withered crone could in no way be recognized as herself any longer. Amber-gold hair dripped with moisture as the new creature studied herself in the mirror. Luminous green eyes, kissable Jessica Alba lips, tight and high-sitting breasts with not a hint of sag. Skin as smooth and supple as a perfumed soap-bubble. A floral-patterned old-biddie dress slipped away from the soft curves of her delicious nudity, no longer needed or missed. Confusion etching her now-youthful features. The girl-woman grunted and clutched at her naked chest, the transformation not yet complete around her bosom. Full and healthy C-cup orange-sized handfuls began to twitch and throb, and Blossom knew that she would grow yet further from mere youthful beauty to a pornographic grandeur of bust and hip that would paint her as a creature that could not help but ooze sex appeal.

"Can....hardly wait." Blossom grunted, as the girl-woman expanded three inches in twice as many seconds, her twin-torpedoes jiggling as they grew through a bushel of fruit-like analogues, in ten seconds going from respectably attractive to honeydew melon assets with diamond-hard nipples. "Not long now," Blossom declared, as she began to strip. Her own explosively-massive bosom erupted in jiggling arcs as she tugged down her white cocktail dress, her expansive breasts thrusting into the florescent light like twin blasphemies against the ideals of feminism.

By now, the black woman was also pulling herself to her feet, clinging to the far wall of the bathroom in an erotic haze. Her several hundred pounds of sexless weight has largely dissolved into the foam around her, leaving a svelte and trim goddess of chocolate desire. Her deliberately shortened hair had run rampant into cascading black curls of glistening ebony that paraded down past her shoulders. She was the sort of woman born for a sleazy rap video that glorified the ideal of woman as sex-object; which she had now become. Her face and form, melted down and recast in a mold of fertile youth, bore a resemblance to an illicit love-child of Aaliyah and Rihanna, yet with a sweeping elegance of face and form superior to either. Blossom doubted there was a man on Earth who would be able to resist forcing himself and his hardening penis upon her, should she be seen like this. The third woman, the younger one was curled up in the corner, twitching. She was neither old nor fat, but crippled. Her transformation should be different from the others; It would be interesting when she revealed the full effect the Process would work upon her! Blossom had already began stripping, and she was forced to curtail her excitement and prepare herself for the next phase of the plan. Her purpose was not by any means finished. She stepped out of her white dress pulled down around her hips, clad only in silver high-heels, she began to finger herself. To rub and caress the folds of her own womanhood.

In preparation.

The last one, the younger one. Tried to stand next. She used a stall partition to leverage herself to her feet. Such a dizzying transformation produced moments of terrifying vertigo. Blossom smiled, and nodded like a sculptor examining a masterpiece. This was a reaction which; in retrospect seemed logical, but which she did not anticipate beforehand. The younger woman, once a bland, frumpy cripple had been enhanced by the Process in a way that was most spectacular. Whereas the overweight black woman had lost much of her mass into the foam to become a slim sex-pot, the crippled girl had absorbed almost every drop of the transformative fluid near her to power a surprising reaction. She seemed to have gained over a foot in height. Bronzed skin bulged with toned muscles on a figure that could have belonged to an award-winning fitness model - if only her boobs weren't at least an E-cup. Her hair shifted into a reddish gold, and she moaned with a deep, coiled strength. But Blossom still had a few moments yet before Phase two. Each of the women would be disoriented and unthinking as their breasts expanded to their new sizes. The Teenager was ready; the oldest of all the targets, but now the Process had recast her in a form to make it virtually impossible to buy alcohol without I.D. Smooth, creamy, unlined skin, so perfect it was almost eerie. She was able to sink her graceful fingers into each tit, burying them up past the second knuckle easily by the swelling bounty of perky womanflesh. Blossom caressed the youthened sex-creature on her soft face tenderly. "You are the first to ripen, my pet." Blossom informed her with a toothy grin.


Now that the black girl had climaxed herself, Blossom could relax her restraint and allow her stamen to release her pollen within the Ripened vessel. Again came that overwhelming, explosive orgasm. And her partner gasped, not only had the stamen driven her to a quicker, rapid-fire cumming, now the pollen released into her pussy would give her sensations no woman could have ever imagined!

Blossom lingered, rotating her tubular member inside the other woman, to ensure her seed would have the best chance to take root. She withdrew with a slurp. Her breasts throbbed, leaked, and became flush with the warm passion that consumed her senses. Two! Two in one day! What a fine crop! Rapper's Girlfriend made a cute cooing sound as she thrashed on the floor, clutching her breasts and wiggling her toes as the ecstasy of pollination burned through her.

But the last of the Ripened women wanted to change the formula a little; Fitness Model moaned and stretched her full length; then she eyed Blossom and her colossal casabas with a gleam as raw and hungry as Blossom's own. As her two companions thrashed with the mind-bending sensations flooding their bodies, Fitness Model stepped over the black girl and grasped Blossom under her arms.

Did something go wrong? For a moment Blossom was frightened. Could there have been a mistake in the Process used to ripen the girl? Was she angry about her dramatic transformation into a nearly seven-foot tall walking wet-dream of sculpted pornography?

No... not that; she was not angry - rather the new hormones and lusts that pickled her brain had made her into some sort of sexual predator. She thrust Blossom against the wall facing the bathroom's mirror, pinning her arms at the wrist with an iron grip. The tanned woman gurgled with ecstasy as she sniffed the floral perfume Blossom's hair naturally emanated. Her stamen throbbed with yet another load of pollen for a new womb. With a grunt, Fitness Model gave her captive a lurid lick from chin to cheek. Blossom had lost control; she already knew that the sight and smell of her stamen acted like a siren-song to Ripened women. Under the influence of the Lesbian mists, combined with the effects of the Process the once shy, crippled wallflower had become a raging, amazonian sex-demon. So here she was pinned to the wall by one of her own targets, her stamen full and pulsing with an even larger load than before. She could see the toned strength and curvaceous splendour of her captor in the mirror she was facing. Blossom was going to watch herself being sexually ravished by a she-devil that she had created! Nothing to do now but enjoy the ride!

Against her will, Blossom's engorged fluffy-headed stamen firmed up and probed the other woman's vagina for entry, driven as her body was by a mindless urge to spread her seed without limit. Blossom's mind could no longer control her body's rampant sexual compulsions. Fitness Model thrust forward, impaling herself on the floral member. Blossom could admire the strong throbbings on her Ravisher's muscled shoulders and hard ass from her perspective across from the mirror. This woman, this insane transformee was using her like a back-alley whore!

And Blossom loved it.

It was impossible to tell who was fucking who; Blossom was responsible for penetration, yet the tall goddess was in total control. She did not will it, but her stamen bottomed-out and went crazy with thrustings, pulsations, and vibrations in Fitness Model's moist cunt. The tall woman snarled, raised Blossom higher on the wall to bury her face in the mountainous breasts dangling before her.

Hungrily, the domineering woman tugged and suckled on Blossom's nipples as her pussy grasped and squeezed the hot, throbbing stamen within it. Fitness Model eagerly drained great draughts of intoxicating nectar from Blossom; which surprised her - the briefest squirt of her milk sent most humans into a helpless, erotic delirium; but this amazon was feasting on her lactation like a Slurpee.

At first, when she had entered this bathroom Blossom had thought of these three strange women as targets; as crops to be used and harvested. But now, SHE was the helpless vessel flowing with liquid sweetness. A vessel being sucked dry by a hungry devourer. Blossom was like a plucked fruit feeding not only the stomach, but also the sex-drive of a merciless harvester.

But since Blossom was no longer in control, she could not stop the release of her essence. Her stamen pulsed, then the head swelled as the pressure was released and her pollen was expelled. All of it. She had been able to exert some control with the others. But now, her gyrating member doused the entrapping womb with a golden overdose of pollen that Blossom was unable and unwilling to restrain. She simply gave everything. Her nipples fountained with milk. Her pussy drenched with sexual lube, and the stamen extending from her groin unloaded all it had.

Hard to say what happened next. Blossom must have blacked out for a few seconds.


She awoke moments later. Blank Slate and Rapper's Girlfriend were beginning to stir, they were absorbing the pollen and beginning to adapt. Fitness Model leaned against the far wall, drenched in sweat; eyes fluttering, breasts lactating. She'd gotten more pollen, and more milk than the others, it might take her longer to become fully conscious.

Blossom staggered over to the duffel bag she'd brought with her into the bathroom. Within were several cocktail dresses in the same style as Blossom's; skin tight and sleeveless. The kind of dresses that would ride high on the hips and accentuate the boobs. With high-heels to match. Blossom herself slipped back into her own white dress which hugged and highlighted every curve of hips, ass, and breasts.

Rapper's Girlfriend choose a gold-fabric glittering piece. Blank Slate donned a fire-engine red dress that seemed permanently in the midst of a wardrobe malfunction from the massive swells of her twin valleys of tit. Eventually, Fitness Model squeezed her statuesque frame into the quintessential, little black dress. Seemingly made even littler by her unusual height. Her legs seemed to go on for miles, and the hem was so high, that just sitting down could get her arrested for indecent exposure. Blossom hadn't banked on a transformation like hers.

But the tall woman seemed thrilled at the prospect of how her new figure would be displayed so blatantly.

"Sweeeet Mother o' Mercy... my big-dicked grandson is gonna cream his pants when he sees the new me!" Rapper's Girlfriend declared, studying her voluptuous figure and curvaceous swells in the mirror. Not that anyone from her old life could recognize her now; Blossom knew that would allow her a great many sexual possibilities.

"Don't remember.... but I want... to fuck!" howled Blank Slate, swaying her hips back and forth in her blazing-hot red dress.

"All those years... so lonely... so shy...afraid; wait 'til they see me now!" Fitness Model growled in anticipation.

Blossom nodded, at least the other two remembered their past lives; their knowledge would be useful for what would come next. How exciting it would be when they hit the town to fulfill their burning urges! Not a complete success, but still a good day. And these women had all taken well to pollination! Their new lives were just beginning; gone were the frailties of age and biological misfortune; They had been Ripened by the Process into three scintillating sex-goddesses aflame with nymphomania.

But the tall woman, she was different; in her eyes there was not the receptiveness of the whore, but the hunger of a predator. It would not take flowers and romance to get her in the mood; all she needed was a place. She was the aggressor and pursuer! No doubt her pussy burned just as fiercely as the others, but she had no time for seduction; her astonishing body was simply her lure. It would be so easy for someone to steal an indecent peek between her thighs; with a dress riding so high! But anyone so fixated would simply become her next sex-prey.

The Black girl hefted her own breasts and closed her eyes in longing. No doubt realizing that now SHE would be the fantasy! When heads turned, and lips whistled, it would be because of HER beauty! How much sperm would cover that cleavage before nightfall? Blossom thought that Rapper's Girlfriend was perhaps best of the three; but all would be useful.

And the Blank Slate? Would she regain her memory? Did she have any other interesting properties from her Ripening?

Blossom yearned to find out!

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