Flashfics 3/? (Patreon)

Threesome to Sexdolls

Michelle would have squealed if she weren’t sucking Brad’s cock. Kneeling on the bed with her ass up in the air, she moaned each time Stacy slammed her penis into her butt. F-fuck, threesomes are so good.

Asscheeks rippling from Stacy’s latest thrust, Michelle shuddered at the feeling of her partner’s cock throbbing inside her, just ready to burst.

Before it had a chance, Stacy pulled it out and laughed. Pulling her lips off Brad’s cock, Michelle looked back and frowned. “You’re not going to finish?” she asked pleadingly.

Stacy laughed again. “Wait. Wait. I completely forgot!” She hopped off the bed and rummaged in her drawer. “I prepared something special for this. Here.” She tossed them each a little bottle of pink fluid. “Have a swig of this. I promise it’ll spice up our evening even more.” She downed her own bottle in one.

Michelle and Brad shared a glance and shrugged before popping the little bottles’ caps and downing them with a pair of large chugs. Michelle shivered as the substance trickled down her throat. “Oooh, it feels goood.”

“What is it?” asked Brad.

“You’ll see,” said Stacy, throwing herself back onto the bed. “Hey, why don’t you take Michelle’s pussy this time? I bet she’s dying to have you down there.”

Michelle laughed and rolled over, spreading her legs to let Brad take her. “Nooo, not in the pussy,” she wailed, “I’m gonna get preeeegnant…” She gave Brad a wink; he slammed his shaft into her.

As Brad plunged his cock into Michelle’s depths, Stacy clawed up behind him, spread his cheeks, and smugly guided her own shaft into Michelle’s rear. Brad screwed up his eyes and moaned even louder, thrusting even harder. Michelle screamed with each impact of his cock.

Pleasure rolling through her body like the aftershock of an earthquake, Michelle grabbed the bedsheets and clung tight, struggling to hold on to her sanity. With each impact, her body felt a little hotter, a little tinglier, a little hornier. She found she was having trouble breathing, but for some reason she didn’t panic. Everything felt so soft and loose and light and squeaky, like she was a big balloon meant for nothing more than fucking. She would have laughed at the idea, but she found her lips weren’t moving. Looking down, she saw a big fat ‘O’, just perfect for sucking dick. Fuck, she wanted to suck one right now.

In her haze of delight, Michelle didn’t notice the rest of the changes affecting her, neither her boobs bloating nor her skin starting to sheen.

Gaze fixed straight ahead, she watched as Brad’s lips fattened into a pink donut of their own, and his eyes froze into a pair of cartoon images. With every second, his cock felt a little larger inside her, as if it were blowing up like a balloon.

She watched, wild with pleasure, as his skin turned sleek and shiny like one too. In the end, he gave one last thrust and–

The two of them writhed as they orgasmed simultaneously. Michelle wanted to scream, but she couldn’t open her mouth–all she could do was lie there and shake in ecstasy.

As the pleasure faded, Michelle realized she couldn’t move at all. Through the haze of afterglow, she wondered what was happening. Brad wasn’t moving either, just lying inside her with those dumb cartoon eyes of his. Had he actually cum? She hadn’t felt any semen.

Before she could figure it all out, Stacy grabbed Brad’s shoulder and wrenched him out of her like he weighed nothing. “Nice,” she said. “I was hoping you two would finish first. Two big sex dollies for me to play around with.” Her skin looked shiny, but otherwise she seemed normal.

Sitting back, she slammed Brad’s plump donut anus onto her cock and bounced him on her lap even as she jacked off his inflatable one. Michelle writhed in envy, wishing Stacy would fuck her too.

“Don’t worry,” said Stacy, lips looking a little gummy. “I should have time to do you before I change.” she winked.

Michelle lay back and melted in anticipation.

—

Perv to Athlete’s Ass

“How’d you like my ass now, perv?” Raising a hand, Tracy slapped him right in the cheek.

Kyle took it like a champ, without the slightest hint of protest. Audible protest, anyway–it’s difficult to protest audibly when you’re two clumps of fat attached to an athletic girl’s ass. Internally, he was screaming.

Stop! It hurts! Nn~! What did I do to deserve this? All he’d done was sneak into the girls’ changing room and try to snatch a shot of her fat ass while she changed. He didn’t deserve to become it!

Reaching around, Tracy seized him and squeezed him, digging her fingers tight into his jiggly clumps of flesh. He wailed and struggled to pull free, but this had very little effect. Nn~!

“You like that?! Oh yeah, I bet you just love how fat and gropeable you made me, don’t you, jackass? Urgh, it’s gonna take a month to burn off all the fat you added. I hope you hate every second of it, you fat, stupid ass.”

She grabbed her shorts and tugged them up. Kyle squealed as they snapped into his face. Too tight! Too tight! It hurts!

*

If he’d thought being her crammed into her exercise shorts was bad, he couldn’t even begin to describe the torment of exercise itself. Reduced to two lumps of fat and squeezed into her pants, all her could do was bounce as she surged up and down the track.

Stop! Oh God, please stop! he wailed with each lap. The more she ran, the more she sweated, and the worse the fetid swamp of her ass became. By the time the session came to an end, he could barely breathe, it had become so humid. And the smell–?

As she returned to the gym, she smacked him spitefully. “Hang in there, big guy. It’s time for a shower.”

No!

Kyle had once told his friends he thought he could survive being waterboarded. He’d been wrong, utterly wrong, and experience a quick shower as Tracy’s ass proved it.

As the boiling hot water crashed into his face, he screamed and strained to pull away, desperate to escape the torment. Not only was it hot, it made him feel like he was drowning. Stop! Stoop! Please stooop!

Being toweled off afterward wasn’t much better. Though the smell of her exercises had faded, the torture of being rubbed dry was almost worst. Kyle wanted to scream as the towel worked his face, tearing at his cheeks till he was certain he must be bleeding. Stop!

At last, Tracy released him. “There,” she said, giving him a playful smack, “enjoy that, asshole?”

Turn me back, Tracy! I’m sorry!

Before she could respond, her stomach gurgled. “Shit,” she said, forebodingly.

*

By the end of the week, Kyle’s mind was in tatters. A week of harsh work, being bounced up and down and squeezed into tight shorts and–worst of all by far–shat through, had left him utterly drained. It felt as if, with each shake and each squeeze and each pound of shit that left him, a little piece of his personality had vanished too, as if he were slowly fading into a normal, non-sentient ass. He was having a hard time even remembering his name.

Examining him in the mirror, Tracy gave him a playful slap. “Nice. You’re already looking smaller, Asshole. I can’t wait till you’re as tight as you used to be.”

Kyle whimpered. He wouldn’t survive another week of this, let alone a whole month.

—

Mom to Fleshlight

Amelia sighed as she crept into her son’s room. David had gone out to buy another issue of that special magazine with the girls he loved so much, and it wasn’t very often she got the chance to sneak in and clean.

Looking around, she couldn’t help but sigh again. The filthy clothes, the discarded candy wrappers and chip packets. The tissues. Oh God, the tissues.

Where had she gone so wrong? How had she produced a son so slovenly, so unable to face the outside world? Hadn’t she shown him enough love? She’d had a had time raising him without his father, but she’d tried to do everything she could to build him into a man. It was just… her job took so much time–she’d barely had any left to spare for him. Would he have turned out better with more time with his mom?

Resting her plump rear on the son’s crinkly bed, Stacy sighed. She just wished she could give him the love he so clearly wanted.

Something outside the window sparkled.

Before Amelia knew what was happening, she’d dropped her dust pan and brush and thrown her arms above her head, lying back and stretching her legs as if she wanted to show off her pussy. “Nn~! Wh-what–?”

As she struggled to react, her dress and everything beneath it melted like wax. She squealed and tried to snatch it back up, but her arms refused to obey her.

The reason why became obvious a second later: as she watched in horror, her limbs melted like her clothes, arms and legs alike both collapsing into her torso till she lay on the bed limbless and immobile. She couldn’t even open her mouth to scream. Wh-what’s happening to me?!

A terrible pressure afflicted her from all sides. As if her body were made of clay, it molded her, forcing her head down into her neck and squeezing her torso into a tight little cylinder of flesh. This done, it took her molten clothes and wrapped them around her as a shell of blue plastic.

The pressure vanished. Amelia lay on the bed, still and small and scared. What happened to me? Why can’t I move…? Nnn~! Why do I feel so horny?!

The bedroom door creaked open. If Amelia still had lungs, she would have squealed. No. No! I can’t let David see me like this!

For all her futile attempts to hide, her son soon loomed over her, his pimply face contorted in confusion.

David, honey, look away! Look away!

He didn’t. Instead, he smiled in satisfaction. “Oh, neat. Thish musht be the fleshlight I ordered. I can’t wait to try it out!”

Stacy could have screamed. F-f-fleshlight?! What’s that?! And why did it sound so perverse?

She heard the sound of a fly unzipping and her heart–if she still had one–stopped beating.

A moment later, her worse fears were confirmed. Her son’s p-p-penis loomed into view, long and veined. It had grown so much since she’d bathed him as a child. No. Nonono! Honey, don’t, please!

Grabbing her by the shell, he hoisted her into the air and held her suspended above it. “Mmm, it looksh nice and tight.”

Honey, no! I’m your mother! I’m your mother! I’m–

Schlup!

Amelia dropped, and her son’s penis crashed into her, instantly spearing her from pussy to former mouth. She squealed inside, lost in the ecstasy of penetration, at the feeling of being filled and stretched and fucked. Nnn~!

David pulled her back a little, just a little, before slamming her back down again. Fresh pleasure, as mind-rending as it was orgasmic, crashed into her, bludgeoning her brain with an overwhelming ecstasy. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think. All she could focus on was the girth of her son’s cock.

For the next ten minutes (though to her it felt like an eternity), he pumped her like a common toy, till at last his breathing reached a peak, he grunted, and a flood of semen, warm and sticky, filled her. She wanted to throw up.

Wrenching her off of him, David held her up and turned her over, letting some of his issue drip out onto the carpet. “Not bad,” he said. “I would have liked it to be a little tighter though.”

That’s my boy, thought Amelia, deliriously.

—

Charlie and the Chemical Factory

“Follow me, children!” cried Pussy Plastic, coattails flapping as she led the way through the main hall of the factory. “Follow me into the wonderful world of chemicals~.”

“We’re adults,” said Ballinda Bloon, one of the 18-plus-year-olds walking in Pussy’s wake.

“Pardon?”

“We’re adults, not kids.”

“Exactly!” said Polly Victor-Cohen, stamping her foot. “And we expect you to treat us like adults!”

“That’s right,” Sophie Watar, seconds before she stubbed her toe and burst into tears. Her mother gave her a lollipop.

Pussy Plastic stared at them for several long seconds, expression frozen. “Okay,” she said at last, “on with the tour, adults~.”

She led them through an industrial door tilted at a comically-quirky 76-degree angle, and into a vast room filled with vats worked by tiny men and women. “This,” she declared, “is the Rubber Room, where a horde of delightful African pygmies make all of our rubber! Say hello to the pygmies, adults.”

“...Hello, pygmies,” said the adults.

“Nisaidie!” said a pygmy woman, leaping out of the crowd. “Wanatulazimisha kufanya kazi katika kiwanda hiki!” Two burly men grabbed her and dragged her away. “Tusaidie!”

“Anyway,” said Pussy Plastic, waving this incident aside casually. “Let’s take a look at the magical rubber vats, where we mix all our delightful rubber! Take a deep sniff! Mmm-mm~, doesn’t it smell delicious? (Try not to breathe in the fumes!)”

Ballinda Bloon leaned over the room and took a deep sniff. That was all it took: eyes rolling back, she toppled in with less-than-impressive splat.

“Oh dear,” said Pussy Plastic, sticking her hands down her pants. “Oh no.”

Ballinda’s scream cut off as she disappeared beneath the rubber, and for several seconds, there was no sign of her save bubbles. Just as they thought she’d drowned and gone to heaven, her head broke the surface with a tremendous gasp.

“Oh, she’s alive,” said Pussy, sadly.

Moaning, Ballinda rose… and rose… and rose… looking oddly pink and bloated. In seconds, she floated in the air, free of the rubber, yet looking strangely rubbery herself.

“Ballinda!” cried her mother. “You’re turning Ball–” She paused and turned this sentence around in her head a few times. “Ball–Hmm.”

Meanwhile, her daughter continued to grow, grow and swell, her body bloated into a fat pink sphere with rubber in place of flesh. Her skin–or what it had become–squeaked as it strained against her clothes, and finally burst into a shower of fabric scraps. Ballinda screamed as she sailed towards the ceiling, fat and round and exposed. “Help me!” she cried, as her stomach sucked up her extremities. “Help mmmphf!”

“Aren’t you going to sing a song?” Penny asked the pygmies.

“Walitupiga kwa kuimba,” said one, whimpering.

With this, the tour group moved on.

“Now this, delightful adults, is the Polyvinyl Palace! Where we make the wonderful PVC that we use for all our most incredible pooltoys!” She pointed out a big machine like a tank with a window on it. It seemed to be full of what could only be described as ‘swirling’. “Make sure not to fall into the Polymerizer! Ahaha!”

Polly Victor-Cohen, having already clambered up the Polymerizer’s ladder, jumped at this warning and promptly topped straight into the machine. She screamed as she dropped into its swirling, colorful innards.

“Oh dear,” said Pussy Plastic. “Oh no.”

The tour group watched as the unfortunate adult swirled around the tank, zipping past the window every half second like a cow caught in a twister. With each pass, she seemed a little glossier, a little more artificial.

“Get her out of there!” cried Polly’s mother.

“Wait…” said Pussy… “I’m almost… Unnn~! Okay, you can take her out now.”

The pygmies deactivated the machine and fished Polly out. She’d gone as flat as an empty stocking.

“What’s wrong with her?!” cried her mother.

“Ah, I’m afraid she’s been polymerized,” said Pussy Plastic. “She’ll have to be reinflated.” She gestured to a worker, who prepared a pump.

Within moments, it was whirring away, and Polly Victor-Cohen slowly regained her fullness. Unfortunately for her and her parents, she regained perhaps a little more than she would have wanted: as the tour group watched, her chest exploded in size, as did her rear and her thighs. Falling onto her front, she stuck out her arms to clasp her breasts even as her arms fattened into cartoon mitts. A seat had formed in her spine, and her face had been simplistic, toy-like, with a cap protruding from her lips.

“She’s a–She’s a pooltoy!”

One of the pygmies opened his mouth to sing. A burly guard beat him with a stick.

At last, after a short but very intense boat road, the tour group arrived at the last and, by certain definitions, greatest room on the tour. “This, entitled adults, is the Soap Water, ah, Ward. Where we manufacture our…” She looked at our hand, which was covered in scribbles. “...Our soap water.”

The Soap Water Ward was dominated by what could only be described as a ginormous bath, complete with giant rubber ducky. Pussy led them up a staircase onto a gantry overlooking it. “This is where we marinate the water to ensure sufficient bubbliness,” she said, nodding sagely. “Try not to fall in.”

“As if I’d be so stupid,” said Sophie Watar.

Pussy kicked her over the edge.

Tumbling straight into the bath, Sophie vanished beneath the bubbles with a tremendous splash and added some of her own by thrashing furiously.

Bursting through the surface with a gasp, she flailed for something to grab on to–one of the pygmies offered her a stick, and soon enough, they had her out on the gantry, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed.

Standing there like a drowned kitten, she shivered in her mother’s grip. “Thank God you’re alright.”

Pussy Plastic looked at her watch. “Hmm, the soap water should be taking effect any second now.” She stuck her hand back in her pants. “Wait for it… Wait for it… Wait for it… And–”

Sophie hiccuped.

Just like that, she popped into a cloud of rapidly rising bubbles. Her sodden clothes fell to the floor with a splat.

“Oh yeah,” said Pussy, masturbating furiously. “That’s the good stuff.”

One of the pygmies played a mournful dirge and was shot.

—

Perv into Dildo

I returned to my room to the sight of an open drawer, a pair of my underwear hanging over the edge. The sight made me see red–I grit my teeth and punched the wall. “Samuel!” I screamed, turning and lurching for the door. “Samuel! Where the hell are you, Samuel? This is the last fucking straw!”

Kicking open his door, I found him in the middle of trying to hide the evidence, which in this case meant stuffing a pair of my underwear down his own filthy pants. “Michelle!” he cried, struggling to his feet. “Wait–this isn’t what it looks–!”

I didn’t allow him to finish his sentence. Flicking my wrist, I cast a silent gag charm and tied up his lips with a nice layer of gauze. Another quick spell sufficed to bind him to his chair. “How many times did I tell you, Samuel? Keep your dirty, cum-stained hands out of my fucking drawer!”

I resisted the urge to slap him; I had far better punishments in mind. “Since you like the smell of my crotch so much, why don’t I give you an intimate taste of it?”

Beneath the bindings, he writhed in fear, but I didn’t let it keep me from casting the next enchantment. Bringing together my hands, I spun them as if weaving, and twirled a loop of magic thread over my thrashing, panicked brother. He squealed as it wrapped around him.

With a flick of my wrist, I snapped him off the chair and held him suspended in the air as the magic did its work. Trapped, he could only squirm as his clothing slipped from his flesh like the shell of a nut and the before beneath it tightened, legs slamming together while his arms clung to his sides. Rigid–in more ways than one: the little perv was still as hard as ever–he shrank, crushed by the invisible grip of my spell.

As I brought him down to size, I took the chance to mold him, rounding his arms, torso, and legs into a smooth, plastic cylinder, before doing something very similar to his head. By the time he was done, he had an elongated dome, his face reduced to etching on the plastic.

His cock I left more or less alone, a special treat for my clit.

Finally, I snapped my hands apart and willed the magic to disperse. Snatching my reduced brother out of the air, I held him up for inspection and smirked. “Now,” I said, licking my lips, “let’s give you what you’ve always wanted.”

Dropping my pants and panties both, I lowered the little cunt to my own fast-dripping slit and wiggled him in like a plug into a socket. As he slipped inside me, I felt him shudder in terror. “Serves you right,” I said, tightening her grip. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you into my BF’s next condom.”