I'm met with the sound of a deep yet soothing male voice, the change from the giddy middle-aged Latina drilling home that I wasn't 'in Kansas anymore'.
"Alright Ms. Daniels, take it nice and easy. We don't want to get security involved again do we?" The voice asks, a slight hint of nervousness in his surprisingly young-sounding voice.
"S'curity?" I mutter, my tongue slurring the words before they can leave my mouth. My voice is sweet yet sultry, smooth and slow as trickling honey but with a hint of something firey deeper down.
I'm forced to close my eyes again as I leave the machine, the slight flickering of the ceiling-mounted fluorescent lights stinging my eyes as my head pounds. In feels tight inside my skull, a mixing of a tension headache and a sudden onset hangover working to make the whole situation even worse.
"Yeah, we had to get acquisitions to haul you in" the man says with a chuckle, the anxiety in his voice only growing more pronounced as the bed comes to a stop with another loud clunk. "Not to mention the...well...slap"
"She slapped ya?" I croak, coughing a little as I'm forced to use my dry throat more extensively to form full sentences. "Why the hell she'd do that?" I ask, finally noticing just how my voice was twisting my words. Everything dripped in a dim drawl, words becoming lazy conjunctions or warped versions of what they were meant to be
"Wait, what the hell is wrong wit' ma voice?" I squeak, my eyes shooting open as I stare up at the cheap foam tiled drop ceiling above me. As I come to my senses, the gears in my head still sticking and gumming up despite my best efforts, I slowly begin to become more aware of my body.
Sweaty yet somehow still oddly dried out hair sticks to my forehead, the occasional honey blonde strand shimmer close to my eyes. The heavy mass is pulled into two loose pigtails, each draping down and laying over my shoulders and chest.
Speaking of my chest, my eyes go wide as I'm met with the size of the largest pair of breasts I had ever seen. While the up close and personal perspective was likely to blame for the disproportionate estimation of their size, it didn't help with the feeling of their intense weight pooling out over my torso and sinking to the sides into my armpits. I'm not sure if I'm thankful for them not to be touching too much, the lack of cleavage in my prone position leading to the weight to be more even more dispersed, as instead I'm left gawking at the wobbling pliant flesh shaking lightly like jello and rippling against my arms with each of my whimpering breaths.
A thin and cheap-looking black crop top clings around them, the lower half gripping to my ribs tightly while the rest leaves room for my chest to move in the fabric. A lower whimper escapes my plump dry lips as I spy my new nipples, the large and remarkably thick eraser-like nubs poking through the flimsy material and standing prominently as they point to either side of my sloping chest.
I crane my neck, struggling to see more of myself beyond the large wide-set chest beneath me. Besides the dirty messy pigtails, strands of honey blonde and darker strands having been twisted into loose bundles and bound shoddily with dirty old gray hairbands, I don't manage to see much more from my poor position.
The young man chuckles, drawing my attention as his nervousness somewhat seems to subside.
"You don't remember the... Never mind" he states, slowly approaching me. "If that's the case it looks like we have another successful transfer. Welcome to the new you, Ms. Alison Mae Daniels."
"I...s'cessful?" I blurt out, wincing at the loudness of my voice as it reverberates inside my skull. "Why the hell do I soun' like some...some...bumkin'?" I squeal, tilting my head to the side. My soft cheek presses up against the cool plastic, the squishing making me pout as I glare at the man as he approaches me.
He appears to be in his late twenties or even early thirties, a short well-maintained crop of black hair sitting atop his head. His gray eyes dart over me, tears still resting in them in response to something that had happened before I got in here. A large red mark throbs on the side of his face, his left cheek practically glowing as a handprint slowly comes into view on his warm pink skin.
He towers over me, though that may simply be due to me laying on the plastic bed. His slender body is dressed in a simple black polo shirt, a small 'The Lottery' logo sitting on the breast like some sort of uniform. A dark set of navy blue jeans cover his legs, a faint bulge running down his pant leg and twitching as he stares down at my chest.
"It looks like you suffered a bit of data loss" he explains, holding out a hand for a me to take. "You sound just like her thought, so at least the fail-safe worked."
I pause for a moment, my eyes drawn to the outline of the man's cock despite my best efforts. It looked...intriguing to say the least, my dull and fuzzy mind being drawn it in a stupor. Blinking rapidly I finally manage to pull my mind from the proverbial gutter, the feeling of my large eyelashes fluttering just adding another sensation to get used to.
"You mean this is s'posed ta happen?" I snap in frustration, taking his hand as he helps lift me to a seated position.
"Well..." the man mutters, bracing for another slap. "It's always a risk. Hopefully, that's all it'll be. I'll sure you'll learn to live with it, it's even kind of...cute" the guy states, flinching as he anticipates a strike across his already pained cheek.
However, no strike comes as I'm left looking down at my body once again. My chest quickly reshapes itself, forming into a delicious juicy pair of meaty teardrops in my top. The material strains and stretches, the cotton deforming to contain the wobbling milk bags while the tight elastic beneath helps to give them a little more support. I feel the heat build around my chest as the flabby flesh squishes together somewhat, warm sweaty gaps sealing between them while another grows beneath them between my ribs and the gropable fat.
"Tanned..." I muse absentmindedly, my eyes locking to the healthy warm skin of my new body. Whoever Alison was she certainly spent a decent amount of time outside, her complexion having a rather healthy glow. Inside the top I spy the hint of a tan line, hidden beneath the black cotton, the ghostly pale skin remaining out of sight from onlookers.
Twisting and tilt I manage to make out more of my lower half, my tanned exposed waist cinching in tightly and helping in forming my heavy hourglass. Tight and firm muscles are visible along my midsection, though nothing like a six-pack or anything of practical use, more the absence of fat leaving slim and basic musculature on full display.
My hips pop out wildly, childbearing or pear-shaped are terms that come to mind. I can't imagine this woman walking without some sort of seductive sway, these hips being made to attract, to hold onto, and to carry children.
A loose pair of sweatpants cover much of my lower body, splotches of food stains littering the pale cream-colored fuzzy material. My legs feel lithe, my calves being able to be flexed without much jiggle. My thighs however feel a little difference, wobbling along with the thick yet firm cushion beneath me when I wiggle my legs.
For some reason I lack any shoes, my pale delicate feet sticking out from the bunched-up legs of the sweatpants as I display my naturally ghostly skin tone and chipped red nail polish.
"I'm...I'm..." I whimper, my eyes wide as I listen to my smooth voice and stare at my bombshell of a body.
"Trailer park barbie" whispers the young attendant under his breath, yet again bracing in expectation of a slap.
"Da fuck didya jus' call me?" I bark, twisting to glare at the young man as he shuffles back, his head turning to nod for someone outside the door. In an attempt to follow after him I hop to my feet, swinging my legs around and dropping off the side of the firm plastic tray.
I let out a low groan as I stand, my rear and chest shaking disconcertingly and my head pounding as my heart rate picks up and my blood pressure spikes. I'm forced to reach out to the machine I had just been inside, placing my left slender and ring-covered hand against it with a series of metallic clinks.
"Trailerpark barbie" calls a new voice, older and deeper in a way that sends delighted chills down my spine. Hilding my head with my right hand I turn towards the door, my dry and filthy hair running over my chest as I'm forced to constantly remember my drastically different body.
A towering mountain of a man stands with a pair of handcuffs in on hands, looking me up and down menacingly. He is heavily tanned, dressed in a black suit with a pair of dark sunglasses hiding his eyes from view. His short shaved down hair appears dark, but the actual color is impossible to make out due to the short length.
"Do we need to use the cuffs again?" he asks, holding up the handcuffs as if leaving it up to me to decide.
"Wha?...why da hell did ya need ta use..." I blurt out, feeling a faint stinging in my right wrist. Pulling my hand away from my head I spy a faint red line running around my wrist, one side having gotten far more of the cutting pressure compared to the other.
"'Cause you refused to come with us Ms." the towering man states, folding his arms over his broad chest. "Almost had to shackle you to the machine after you smack Johnny here."
"It was my fault" the attendant quickly interjects, obviously eager to de-escalate the situation he had inadvertently caused. "I said something stupid and I got what was coming to me, no need to..."
I bring my hand to my face, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I feel a tiny ring running through the right side. With a deep breath, feeling my chest heave with the inhale, I try to focus past my slow and pained mind.
"Why da hell did ya call me..." I begin to ask, my forcefully calm voice making my new speech sound outrageously sweet and folksy.
"Well...you see..." 'Johnny' begins to stammer, struggling to find a way to word the explanation.
"'Cause we had to drag you out of a trailer...in a trailer park" the man in the suit states in a matter-of-fact fashion, a smirk spreading over his face as his head tilts up and down. I can't see his eyes, but it is fairly obvious that he is checking out my body in a less than sneaky fashion.
"Fuck are ya talkin'... this ain't right" I murmur, my plump plush lips parting in shock as they begin to quiver nervously. "I won da 'vision one prize, that can't be some gal from a fuckin' trailer park" I whimper, taking my first staggering step towards the two men as my hips grind against my stiff masculine gait.
"Young? Check" the towering man says holding up a finger. "Bombshell? Check" he continues, holding up a second. "Sounds like something most people would call top tier to me sweetheart."
"But...but..." I stammer, slowly swaying my hips more and more with each tentative step as I try to learn the natural sway of the body I now inhabited. "It said... I was told that she was wealthy too" I murmur, wringing my hands together as I inadvertently squeeze my soft sloshing rack and emphasize my cleavage.
The towering man shrugs a little, Johnny, in turn, looking at the screen. He reads over the text available to him, trying to find something to help the grand prize winner who was obviously having difficulty.
"That's not an acquisitions problem" the towering older man says, stepping a little back in the doorway as he makes way for me. "Come on Princess, your chariot awaits."
"I...you drove me?" I mumble, glancing between the towering man and Johnny. "I guess that makes sense, if ya were needin' da cuffs" I state, wincing as I listen to my sweet folksy drawl.
"Well it wasn't like you could get yourself here" the older man states, nodding at Johnny. "Johnny, hey! Johnny! Give the girl back her ID so we can get her back to her trailer" he barks, treating me far worse now that I wasn't technically the winner of the lottery.
"Oh, right..." Johnny mutters, glancing between the screen and the man. "Just...just give me a..."
"No, now Johnny. Stop looking for her address or phone number or whatever you're trying to do and let's get her back to nursing that hangover" he tower barks, causing the attendant to flinch.
"Fine, fine...wait...here it is!" he mutters, his voice switching to an excited chirping as he finds something on the screen. "Wealth...Top tier... At least according to the revenue departments records" he states, shrugging his shoulders a little as he pulls the ID card from under the camera. "Not sure about why you live in a trailer, but it seems like a choice and not a necessity."
The towering man scoffs, nodding out towards the hallway yet again. "Trust me, no one would live in that place by choice. Probably a fuck up, sorry Ms. Winner. Now come on, it's a hell of a drive out to the middle of fucking nowhere and I want to get home at a good time."
My lip now full-on quivering, tears welling up in my eyes at the harsh manner I was being spoken to mixed with the terror of what was being implied, I take the ID from Johnny. Looking down I fiddle with the plastic card in my hands, my eyes immediately being drawn to the large series of holes punched in the driver's license that read 'VOID'.
A picture of a young tanned blonde woman sits in prime place of the card, the bubbly blonde grinning with her plump kissable lips. Her honey-blonde hair is interspersed with darker locks, her roots appearing to be closer to light brown while the natural fade grows outwards into her lovely blonde tones. A pair of pale green eyes stare into the camera, large and expressive with faint bags beneath them.
As I shuffle towards the tall well-dressed man, my assets bouncing and shaking in the loose clothing without much in the way of support, I stare down at the card as I read my new details.
Alison Mae Daniels
11/11/1999
5'5"
N/A
2848 Riley Street
Sliding the idea into my loose baggy pocket I feel something hard brush against my hand, fishing around as I'm marched out from the Lottery office's back room. I soon produce a surprisingly new phone, a model only being a year or so old.
"How the hell did she..." I mutter, practically jumping out of my skin as it buzzes in my hand.
Opening it with facial recognition, whimpering weakly as Alison's phone recognizes me as her, I find a message from an unknown number. My heart races as I recognize it, my old phone and the new Jordan Hughes already sending me a message so soon after the swap.
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 reading;
No comments:
Post a Comment