The Lottery - Part Five

With creeping dread I quickly check the message, tilting my new phone as I fight against the light spilling in from the storefront. Before I slip out into the newsagent section of the store my phone loads the message, my eyes darting over a text

Thanks for the body babe. Can't wait to give 'this' thing a test drive

                    *Picture Attached*

A shocked whimper escapes my newly plumped-up lips as the picture suddenly loads, the image of my former ten-inch cock soon filling a large portion of the screen. I recognize the tiles of the Lottery office's break room beneath her, the black sweat pants I had been wearing tugged down just enough to slip the monster she now wielded out over the waistband.

The older woman must have left her to get her bearings, or maybe she even condoned sending the message. My muddled thoughts swim with the idea of the doughy caramel-skinned woman's rosy rounded cheeks practically turning tomato red at the sight of my tall virile body sending lewd texts to its former self.

I soon stop paying attention to just where I'm walking, my body quickly taking the distraction and running with it as my hips begin to take on a more smooth and alluring sway with my constant fighting and need for control. My breath catches in my chest, my tongue licking my dried out plush lips as I find myself marveling at the image on screen.

It was so... so big... thick... veiny... juicy...

The thoughts quickly begin to flood my mind, my body responding to seeing the lewd text and the huge meaty rod in the image far too positively. Worse yet my mind seems to concur. Rather than merely seeing it as my own organ or being turned off by the sight of the cock that was technically no longer my own, I find myself reveling in the naughty thrill of having it sent to me.

I'm only brought back to the real world as I collide with something hard, a large block of wood colliding with my mid-section and knocking the wind out of me. I rip myself away from the phone, quickly turning it off as I look around in shock.

The towering man just shakes his head at me, standing in the center of the newsagent we had wandered out into. The place feels far homier than the one I had just come from, filled with more general items from food to home wares as it appears more like a general store than anything else. The building itself looks quite a bit older as well, old wooden floorboards and worn white painted walls giving off a vibe that this building had seen quite a few years pass by.

An older woman, somewhere in her fifties sits by me at the counter. She bears a striking resemblance to the young man in the back, pale with black hair styled into a neat yet out-of-fashion bob. Her eyes are more of a gray-blue than 'Johnny's' stone gray, her gaze locked to me with a cold glare.

Dressed in a nice yellow blouse and a pair of jeans, her slender and rather poorly endowed body is visible beneath the tight well-maintained material. Her wedding ring-clad hand taps at the thick hardwood counter, long nails clicking loudly against the wood.

"Watch where you're going" she grumbles at me, her voice dripping with disdain.

"So...sorry ma'am" I manage to blurt out, hanging my head a little as I slowly make my way around the counter.

Something about my response seems to make something click inside her head, her narrow face twisting in surprise and then contrition.

"No...I'm...sorry I just..." she stammers, her frigid matronly voice taking on a more polite and warmer tone. "Bad day... I shouldn't take it out on...you" she explains, taking extra care to emphasize the last word.

"I...no need ta 'pologize" I mutter, still slouching nervously and barely making any eye contact. "I mean, s'all right ma'am."

I hear a little bell chiming as the towering man opens the front door, the old wooden frame being filled with dirty and discolored glass. Mincing to the door I let out a series of murmurs and whimpers, the motions of my new assets being all too new and forcing their way to the forefront of my mind.

"Well... if you need anything" the older woman calls out. "Do come back to the Murphy's General Store, we can get in 'most anything if you place an..."

"Don't think she'll be making a trip like this for a while" the towering man chuckles, placing a hand on my lower back as he shoves me out the door. "Not after her last citation."

Stumbling out into the bright light outside I try to shield my eyes. The footpath sears at my feet, the baking concrete having taken on much of the heat from outside. At the same time the bright cloudless sky leaves the sun to burn on my skin, the harsh rays rapidly leaving me feeling warm as sweat builds under my arms and in my cavernous cleavage.

Despite that though, I feel rather fine. My body almost feels used to being barefoot, whereas the searing path would have left my old body hopping about I simply feel mild discomfort. Where the harsh sunlight would have already started the process of burning my old delicate pale skin I instead feel oddly comfortable, the warmth penetrating down through the large amount of exposed flesh almost making me want to sleep or at least rest and enjoy it.

"You called her a bitch" the tall man says, closing the door behind us and walking down the street to the left. "And she heard you slap her son."

Balling up my hands into pathetic tiny fists I follow along, pouting at the man as 'trailer park barbie' waddles and stumbles along behind the tall professional man in a suit. The road around us is surprisingly quiet, with only a few cars passing here and there. What is busy are the parking spaces and numerous cafes lining the road, with not a spare outdoor chair or parking spot in sight.

Gone were the towering buildings of my home, the metropolis of a capital city I lived in having been replaced with what looked like a smaller regional one. In the distance I can see an apartment building or two, either that or potentially an office building by their central business district, but the rest of the buildings around me seemed older and smaller.

"I didn' do anythin'" I huff, my honey-sweet voice coming out in almost a petulant whine. "Dat was da other one, ya know dat as well as I do."

Shrugging slightly the man just keeps walking towards a large black SUV in the distance, another towering figure standing by it like a security detail.

"Alison slapped Johnny, Alison called Beatrice a bitch, and we had to drag Alison out of her dank little trailer before she found out who had won her" he explains, waving to the figure by the car. "All I see is Alison going in, Alison coming out. They don't pay me enough to pretend to care who you used to be. Government won't either, and you'll have to convince everyone else you deserve to be treated any different... Trailer Park Barbie."

"But...but..." I stammer, my voice coming out in a whimper. I knew on some level he was right, for all intents and purposes I was this curvy little blonde regardless of who I had been before. Sure I had my education in theory, my intellect housed in this busty little body, but without the paper saying I had those qualifications it was kind of a moot point.

Before I can finish my muddled response I feel a pair of strong hands clamp down over my shoulders. For a second my heart stops, fear gripping me as I wonder if I'm going to just be thrown into the car and cuffed like the bitchy woman I now inhabited had been on the way over.

However, as I look up expecting to see the towering man I'm met with the sight of a woman in her mid-twenties, her big brown eyes scanning me with an extreme amount of warmth and concern. She is easily as tall as the older man, perhaps even an inch or so taller, and built even heavier than him. Her bulging muscles are visible beneath her plain white button-up shirt, having discarded the jacket in the warm sun sometime ago.

Her face is rather angular in nature, a strong jawline and prominent cheekbones granting a certain severe character to her olive-toned face. Her silky jet-black hair is pulled back into a tight bun, likely to prevent people from grabbing at it in case of a scuffle.

"Oh Jordan, how are you feeling in there?" she coos, her accent hard to place though it was certainly from somewhere in Middle-east. "Do you need water? snack? painkiller?" she asks in a torrent of worry and care, obviously being the good cop to the man's bad cop.

The man doesn't stop as he walks to the driver's side door, hopping inside as her begins to get the car started.

"I...I fine, thanks fer askin'... I mean...thank ya fer callin' me..." I mutter, sniffling and whimpering at one of the first signs of kindness I'd experienced since getting here.

"Oh my...you even sound like her" she cries, leaning down to look me in the eyes as her own lips quiver. As she draws closer I notice a few scratch marks on her neck, shallow cuts having been raised up into reddened mounds. Catching me staring she lets out a nervous chuckle, smiling down at me with pearly white teeth. "Just a scratch, Alison really did not want to come."

Squeaking slightly at the comment I look down at my own hands, noticing my tattoos for the first time. Despite the nails on my hands being relatively short, portions even having been chewed all the way down, they still looked like they could do some damage with some even having been peeled up slightly from the finger due to some foreign force. My slender tanned arms themselves are delightfully smooth and perfect much like the rest of my body, large black lined tattoos resting up along my shoulders along with a large floral piece on my left forearm.

"I'm so so sorry 'bout what..." I begin to mumble, pausing as the tall beefcake of a woman begins to shush me and coo softly.

"It is alright, it was not you" she states, reaching up to stroke my disgustingly sweaty and dirty hair without so much as a complaint.

Before either of us can say another word we're both startled by the horn of the car blaring out, the cafe goers near us looking over with scowls and glares at being interrupted by the noise. The man leans out the window, banging the door from the outside as he looks at us.

"Come on Sara! We've got to get princess here back to her castle!" He shouts, eager to get on the road.

Sighing to herself the tall young woman stands back up to her full height, easily being over six feet tall by quite some margin. "Come, we can talk in the car" she coos, leading me to the back seat.

The back seat of the car is large and spacious, the supple black leather seats covered in little cuts and scratches that have been repaired over and over again with each acquisition. A large wire wall separates the front from the back seat, a small door connecting the two with the handle and lock being on the front side of the fence.

As I hop into the seat, spreading my legs like I was used to I quickly come to a realization. My cheeks begin to burn red, my eyes darting down at my flat crotch as I feel a lack of any underwear clinging to me. Instead, I merely feel the spacious warmth of the sweatpants, the woolen fluff of the inside gently caressing my soft jiggly thighs and tickling over my sensitive new lower lips.

I quickly shift my position, closing my legs with a snap as I go to get the seat belt. The man behind the wheel chuckles to himself, watching me awkwardly fumble through the rear view mirror. I try to get the seat belt properly in place, fiddling with it at my almost water-like chest as the fleshy sacs slosh around in the tight top.

Sara hops in the passenger's seat, quickly doing up her seat belt over her perky yet far far smaller bust before fishing around in the glove compartment and gap between her and the driver for something.

I whimper as I follow suit, bringing the thick strap over my chest before letting it ease in between my new breasts. My eye twitches as I feel the coarse material slide in between my sensitive new assets, the feeling of having my chest pulled at and separated feeling foreign to my mind. However, as the strap comes to rest against my chest I can't help but feel a familiar sense of comfort, my breasts thankfully feeling rather comfortable being pushed to the sides and resting more naturally this way.

Snapping from my focus surrounding my new unfamiliar form I look up to see Sara passing me a few items from the front seat. The kind and caring woman hadn't been offering things idly, easily producing the bottle of water and nut bar along with a full packet of pain killers.

I greedily take them from her, tearing open the painkillers and downing a little more than I should. My head still pounded after the swap, my thoughts feeling mired down in mud as I'm forced to focus far harder to get anything off the ground. I guzzle down the water with gusto, the cool liquid overflowing my mouth and running down my sweaty chest in what must have been an enticing fashion from the outside.

"Thank ya kindly" I gasp, quickly finishing the bottle before looking around for a place to put it.

"It is no problem" Sara responds, chirping merrily as she fetches a second for me. "Glad to see you feeling better"

Without so much as a word the older man starts the car, pulling out into the street a little too quickly as Sara and I lurch in our seats.

"Micheal? Really?" Sara grumbles, taking the empty bottle from me and passing me the second that I quickly being to chug down. "Why must you act so...so..."

"It's not my fault she lives out in the middle of nowhere" the man grumbles back, quickly speeding up to catch a yellow light. "If she still had her damned license she could just drive herself back. Hell, if she lived closer we'd just leave her to get home herself."

"This is part of the job" Sara replies, glancing back at me from a moment as more water spills from my mouth and moistens my top and sweatpants. "Just...why can you not be nice?" she huffs, folding her arms as she sits back in her seat.

"Because this is all so..." he mutters, cutting himself short as he purses his lips. "Never mind, let's just get this done so maybe I can get home on time."

As we drive along, the small city soon passing into the distance as we hit the smaller suburbs surrounding it before reaching something more akin to farmland and soon-to-be developments, I simply sit hunched over awkwardly in my seat.

My head still feels a mess, the pressure inside it still leaving me struggling to hold a cohesive train of thought. In an effort to take my mind off it I pull my phone back out, my fingers running over the cheap scuffed white plastic case around it.

As it unlocks once more thanks to my newly acquired face my jaw drops, a string of messages having flooded in from my old number since the last. With the previous message being left on read my phone had simply not notified me of the rest, Alison apparently having set up her phone to ignore those she was in turn ignoring.

 

Thanks for the body babe. Can't wait to give 'this' thing a test drive 

                    *Picture Attached* 

I sent you my penis, please respond ;)

God I used to get that so much

Seriously though, why did you give this thing up?

Enjoy playing catcher from now on, I know I'm going to love the other side

No more birth control, no more 'just the tip' Well at least not being said 'to' me ;)

Fuck this thing just won't go down

Hey, how to do calm this fucking thing down?

Seriously? You stuck me with your gross body and won't respond?

Wait, the fucking settings. Guess I fucked myself here

Speaking of fucking myself...

:P :P :P

Do you have a girlfriend?

Do 'I' have a girlfriend I mean

Come on, respond

I want to hear what you think of your cock

I think I would have been drooling over it

Are you not responding because you're liking it 'too' much?

:D

I bet you are you little slut, I know I would have been rubbing one out to it

Wait you aren't in private are you?

Long trip home from what I remember

Fuck that hangover sucked, basically slept in the car ride over

Seriously though do I have a girlfriend or am I free to just fuck people now?

Holy shit you have some hot neighbors, sleeping with any of them?

Fuck, this is a nice apartment.

You really fucked up 'Alison' 

 

As I read the texts I'm thankful that the image is pushed off-screen by the wall of messages, the way she is speaking about her former self making me worry about just how that picture could affect me. Glancing around nervously I tap at the phone, typing out a new message. I have to re-write it several times, struggling to make it seem normal but failing on each attempt.

Eventually I just sigh, giving in a sending off the message despite how it looked.

 

y the fuk were u top tier?!?!? this is sum bullshit

I sit for a moment, waiting for a response, my mind focused on the shitting text I had sent back.

"Um..." I mutter, speaking up for the first time in what felt like ages. "I was just wonderin'...does da...um...does da data loss ever...ya know...go 'way?" I ask the two people in the front seat.

"Oh" coos Sara, perking up at the question. "Well...you see..."

"Nope" chirps Micheal, just focusing on the road and not even looking at me. Sara glares at him for a moment before turning to face me, quickly fetching a little chocolate bar from her snack area as if as a consolation prize.

"He is right, the parts of you are...well...still back inside the old you" Sara explains, trying to simplify the matter. "I mean, not exactly like that, they were degraded over the course of the transfer and had to be restored via the temporary local backup made from residual data cached in the recipient's natural wetware."

I blink at her for a moment, my phone rumbling in my hands as I receive another message that I promptly ignore. It takes longer than I would have liked to catch up with her full explanation. Yet again it is like my head is full of discarded gum, concepts and thoughts getting stuck before they roughly spring free in a subtly painful manner.

"She won't understand it if you say it like that" Micheal chimes in, chuckling as he takes a quick glance at my confused struggling face in the mirror. "See, you've just..."

"No...no I get it" I mutter, taking a deep breath. "It's jus'... should I be feelin' this...slow? I ain't feelin' ta bad after da painkiller, but e'reythings still... weird..." I explain, wringing my hands nervously.

"Were you... a fairly bright man?" Sara asks, passing me the little wrapped chocolate.

"I have...had three degrees, postgrad'it an' all" I respond, wincing as I butcher my own qualifications.

"Well...I suppose..." Sara begins to mutter, her eyes shifting about as if in search of the answer.

"Do you look like much of a scholar?" Micheal asks, knowing the answer already. "You've likely shoved thirty-pounds of book smarts into a five-pound bag. Don't get me wrong, it's an attractive bag, but you think she ever used that brain you call your own?"

I freeze up, my lips parting as I struggle to respond. That couldn't be right...could it. I could still remember my education, the classes I both went to as a student and taught as a lecturer. However, I can't deny that it's a bit of a task to both find that information and hold it any my head for any length of time, the more I try to focus on the worse the pounding in my head becomes.

"He is...not wrong" Sara explains, gritting her teeth. "Not right either, but not wrong. You are all there, minus the loss in transit of course, but...well... it seems like you're running on some worse hardware than before."

"Are ya sayin'..." I whimper, my lips, quivering as my heart flutters in my chest. "Are ya sayin'...I'm stuck bein'...bein'..."

"Yes" chimes Micheal, eager to have the conversation over.

"No" Sara coos, shooting a glare at Micheal. "Do not listen to the sour old man, you will be fine. You just need to rebuild the neural connections you lack" she explains, flexing one of her large biceps as her sleeve threatens to split open. "Flex your mind-muscle."

As the ride goes on I realize more and more that I would be living far from any city, the rolling fields outside giving way to small towns before returning back to empty fields once more. The lush green landscape is rather nice to look at, losing my weakened mind to just lazily enjoying the scenery for hours on end.

The occasional car passes by us, though not many, with buses and trucks being far more common.

Returning to my phone I finally look at the message, having waited far to long to reply.

 

Fuck, this is a nice apartment. 

You really fucked up 'Alison' 

        y the fuk were u top tier?!?!? this is sum bullshit

Probably because I was young and hot, the perverts at the Lottery probably jacked off to me more than once looking through their files.

Speaking of jacking off this thing feel amazing

Like, not as sensitive as my old stuff, have fun with 'that' by the way, but it's so... concentrated and powerful

Look at this: *Video Attached* 

Fuck it takes fucking two hands, I bet I could split someone in two with this 

Fuck I bet I could get paid to rail someone with this thing

May not be a bad idea, I don't get a single fucking book on this shelf. You were a fucking nerd weren't you, no girlfriend just your stupid books.

Look where that got you Mr. Professor

Well the new Jordan is different

Who needs books when you have a cock girls would worship? 

 

I watch in horror as a short compressed video automatically plays in the message chain, my cock with both my hands wrapped around it appearing massive thanks to the angle of the phone. It looks monolithic, the head covered in a glossy shimmering lubricant that leaves thin webs clinging to her hands.

I can see my apartment in the background, my shelves of books having been pulled apart and left a mess after she had apparently pawed through them. The label of an expensive bottle of scotch rests in the side of the frame, the bottle I had been saving for a special occasion.

I find myself staring again, my mouth filling with saliva as the thought of what that cock would taste like, feel like, in my mouth suddenly begins to builds inside me. With each visible throb and twitch a heat builds between my legs, a gnawing sensation demanding attention with each passing loop of the video.

However, the cock is not all that snatches my attention away from me. The sight of the expensive liquor bottle too fills my mind with hunger and thirst, a craving to feel the sweet heady burn of alcohol against my throat leading me to practically drool in the back seat.

Swallowing hard I try to keep my composure, my breath coming is shaking shudders as I grow more and more on edge.

Well the new Jordan is different. 

Who needs books when you have a cock girls would worship? 

        it said u were fuking rich 2! who da fuk lives in a traler wenur rich?!?! 

        seriously, this aint right!!! i fuking hate talkin liek sum fuking idiot 

Oh right! Yeah, my long lost uncle died recently. Split in the family of some shit 

Apparently I was the only family left on either side so I got it all But there was just... so much shit to do you know? 

You'll get it once you get home to your 

Itty 

Bitty

Trailer 

 

I sigh with relief as the last message pushes the video off my screen, a real worry gripping me that I wouldn't have had the mental strength to push it aside otherwise. The dampness still clings to my sensitive new mound, the moist feeling spreading to my thighs as I slam them shut.

 

But there was just... so much shit to do you know? You'll get it once you get home to your

Itty

Bitty

Trailer 

        The fuk do u mean 'so much shit'? Am I rich or fuking not?!?!? 

Kind of, it's stupid and complicated and... Look just check the filing cabinets

You'll see, it's just... not worth the fucking effort

I leave Alison on read, not wanting to deal with being sexually frustrated and actually frustrated at the dim woman running around in my body. I slowly eat the snacks Sara had given me, finding more and more water and food passed back by the sweet doting hulking woman.

After quite a few hours we begin to slow down, pulling into some nearby woodlands. It's perfectly serene at first. The beautiful treeline filled with life and foliage eliciting 'oohs' and 'ahhs' from both myself and Sara. However, it begins to turn downhill as we turn off onto a small side road with beer cans and rusted-out car parts slowly becoming more frequent as we delve deeper.

A squat aging building sits by the road, the narrow 'street' separating out into a wide central courtyard with various paths leading off from it. A window faces the road, the small area acting as a booth for drivers coming in or out to talk to someone.

A balding man sits in the tiny glass-encased space, her rotund body sweating through his white singlet. He merely sits there, reading letters and adjusting his glasses before sorting them into little trays, only looking up at us as we slowly come to a stop in front of him.

"Yes?..." he rasps, the faint smell of cigarette smoke emanating from his little booth. He peers inside, seeing me in the back seat before shaking his head. "What'd she do this time?" he drones, sucking in his thin lips as he stares at me with a disappointed look.

"Oh no" Sara coos, leaning across Micheal to talk to the man. "She did not do anything wrong she..."

"Lucked out" Micheal states, looking deeper into the caravan and trailer park with a derisive snigger. "Apparently..."

"Well if ya say so" the old man says with a shrug, returning to his work. "Lot number 17, take the first left and...:

"We know the way" mutters Micheal, slowly pulling forward.

"Your... your lovely daughter told us this..." Sara tries to shout back, pouting sullenly as Micheal takes the turn and drives us all away. "Morning..."

The drive through the park is short. The place not being all too large and the crisscrossing pathways making it easy to get to where you want to be. We pass by all manner of temporary structures as we go by, from tiny converted vans with road trippers ambling about, to retirees staying in expensive top-of-the-line campers, to even a temporary home or two.

Soon we find ourselves on a more secluded path, a small white aging trailer sitting at the end of it. The area around it is a mess, the empty space littered with cheap and damaged outdoor furniture while nowhere is safe from the various discarded liquor bottles and cans.

A large red pickup truck sits next to the trailer, small spots of rust along the windowsills and roof showing either its age or the poor care taken of the vehicle. The trailer itself isn't that small up close, though certainly not a home by any means. It is decades old, the exterior worn and peeling beyond recognition.

"That...that ain't ma..." I blurt out, practically blubbering as tears well up in my eyes.

"That it is Trailer Park Barbie" Micheal chuckles, pulling around out front before idling.

"Welcome to your dream palace."