Team Player, Part 2 (TG Bimbo) (Patreon)

A Commission for Jack Mackenzie

Richard Starre is a star US college football star with all the bravado to match his skill. Unfortunately for him, he develops the rare Lumin’s Syndrome, and he soon finds his tall, dark, and handsome looks becoming a lot more short, blonde, and buxom. As he changes, he tries desperately to remain a player, and hide his condition from his teammates.

Previous Part 

Team Player, Part 2

Richard was stock still, as was Dina. They had just climaxed together, and in that climax, he had accidentally shouted out the name of Brandon Becker, his college rival. The man he'd been thinking of while having sex, without meaning to.

"Richard, what the actual fuck?" Dina.

"I, uh, look Dina . . ."

She pulled herself away from him, taking her hand off his sensitive tit.

"No, no no no. This isn't happening."

"It was just a stupid mistake Dina. I've been thinking a lot about the game recently, and -"

"Oh, I can tell who you've been thinking of recently, Rich. No wonder you've got such hostile energy to him. Jesus, I can't believe this shit. Just wait till I tell-"

Richard's eyes widened. It was like the bottom of the world had fallen out. He grabbed her hand violently, twisting it.

"You can't tell anyone!"

"Richard, you're hurting me."

"I'm not gay! I'm just going through some stuff, okay?"

She pushed and tugged against him, and he cursed his lessening strength. The bitch should have been easy to contain. In the struggle she grabbed his shirt, and to his horror as she pulled back the buttons ripped off, flying everywhere, and the two of them fell backwards in opposite directions. He scrambled to rebutton what he could of his shirt, but too many had pinged off. He hurriedly pulled the two halves together, only to cringe and release then when he unexpectedly pressed his hands upon his aching breasts.

"Holy. Shit."

An ice cold dagger plunged into his stomach as he looked up. Dina was staring straight at him, her jaw agape, her perfect eyebrows raised, her eyes wide. She was staring directly at the compression wrap, and the obvious womanly mounds that could no longer be easily hidden. Frozen, he stared back.

"Rich, those are tits. You've got fucking tits!"

"It's not what it looks like, I swear."

"Bullshit! I know a pair of tits when I see them. You've even got cleavage! Where's your body hair, Rich? And your waist is tiny!"

"Look, I can explain. It's just, uh, just part of my new dieting regimen and pills I've been taking. My body had a reaction, it's just temporary."

She didn't look convinced. "Let me see them."

Rich blanched. "No way."

"Because they're tits. Christ, no wonder they were suddenly so sensitive! And all you're crying lately. The emotional states. What are you, trans? Are you secretly transitioning?"

"What? No! Why would I want to become some bimbo?"

She gave another look of shock. "Who the hell said anything about bimbos? I asked if you were becoming a woman?"

Richard covered himself and stepped closer. His anger was like a furnace, fuelled by his shame. "Same damn thing, Dina! You think I'm with you because I fucking like you? You're a big pair of tits with a pretty face. A fucking good lay, that's all!”

Tears welled in her eyes. Dina turned and quickly put on her bra. To Richard’s frustration, even the sight of her big knockers sliding in her generous cups wasn’t enough to turn him on. The image of Brandon, his muscular dark skin against his, was the only arousing thing that came to mind. He pushed the thought away.

“Screw you, Richard,” she spat, pulling her top on. “We’re done. Whatever weird shit is going on with your body, you’re on your own.”

Richard rubbed his temple. “Look, Dina, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I meant it, screw you! We’re finished. Good luck with your mantits and your hairless body, ‘Mr Starre.’”

He balled his fists, overcome with fury. “I’m not growing tits, dammit! I’m just - I’m going through some - UGHH!”

The frustration was overwhelming, the anger boiling to a tipping point. He took another step forward, and she took one back, fear clearly in her eyes, but then he doubled over, clutching his stomach in response to a new set of pains and adjustments.

“N-no! Not f-fucking now!” he groaned, but it was too late. “D-don’t look at me!”

But Dina’s eyes were locked onto his body, and she wouldn't look away. He tried to shove her away, but stumbled as the pressure behind his compression wrap became too powerful. He could feel the flesh rising, expanding like dough. The same pressure existed in his hips, his waist, even his groin.

“OOhhhhh - NNgh - NGHHH!!”

He clutched his naked body, unable to contain the changes that were overcoming him. They were happening so fast; he’d never experienced so fast or so fully before!

“Why n-nowwww!?” he grunted.

His compression wraps pushed out, becoming painfully tight and cutting off his breath. It was like he was expanding over a full cup-size in mere seconds. He struggled to get oxygen, the bands cutting into his skin as his breasts bloomed ever larger, a more definable weight settling into them. He drooled in discomfort, rallying to undo the bandages before he fell unconscious. He scraped and pulled and twisted at them, going almost mad with pain, but also the alien pleasure of his expanding feminine nipples rubbing against the fabric. Finally, he managed to rip apart several of them, and the entire constricting mess fell around his shrinking waist. His sore breasts were released, slightly reddened, and clearly enlarged. They wobbled as he jutting his chest out, giving a great, keening moan. He grabbed them, groping and squeezing, trying to settle them down. Something told him that he was only stimulating further growth, but he couldn’t help himself; it was soothing.

“Oh my God,” Dina whispered, gazing at him in shock. He briefly made eye contact with her, then looked away. His lips became just that little bit puffier, his cheeks a little more smooth and rounded, his jaw cracking inwards to become that merest bit smoother.

“P-please, don’t tell anyone!” he stammered, his waist pinching in and giving him more of an hourglass, especially as his hips cracked outwards. He grabbed his penis in response to the strange pulling sensation, and he salivated almost feverishly as it retracted bit by bit, becoming even smaller. Even his balls, cupped in his hands, shrunk a little further.

“N-no! F-fuck! FUCK!”

They didn’t shrink entirely, thank God, but they were much smaller yet again. No longer big enough to pleasure any woman, let alone one as hot as Dina. His hair lengthened, spilling forth from his scalp until it reached his shoulders, and it looked even more golden in colour than it had before.

“What the hell, even your face is changing!”

He already had smooth skin now that he couldn’t grow facial hair, but this was exacerbated by the softening of his overall face. He had little doubt he now looked more female than male, and it terrified him to his core.

The changes faded away, and with them, his energy. He felt like he’d been squeezed dry, his batteries running right out. His more petite stomach growled in hunger, needing to refuel that energy in the wake of these changes. But that wasn’t his main concern now. His worst fears had come true; someone from his ordinary life - not an outsider, but someone who knew him intimately - had found out. Dina stared at him like he was a freak, her mouth still open, her eyes wide.

“You are turning into a woman. What the fuck is happening to you, Rich?”

“N-nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s just a condition. I’m getting over it.”

“That’s some condition.”

He realised she had a phone in her hand. It put that icy cold dagger in his stomach once again.

“Is that - were you fucking filming me?”

She looked at her phone. “I thought . . . I thought I would need to report symptoms, to the ambulance.”

“You didn’t call-”

“When would I have? But I should. What’s happening to you isn’t natural.”

He balled his even more slender fists again. “I said I’m fucking dealing with it!”

His voice was a little higher, and a little harder to take seriously. Again, that image of Brandon flashed in his mind, and he bit his lip to try and ignore it. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Brandon’s big, black dick?

“It doesn’t sound like it.”

“Give me the phone, Dina.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I should.”

“Give. Me. The. Fucking. Phone.”

Again, that little shake of her head. “The hell did I ever see in you, Richard Starre.”

It was a statement, not a question.

“Though I guess you won’t be a Richard much longer. Maybe a Rachel.”

It was enough to make his fury explode. The shame and utter humiliation of what he’d just experienced in front of her was enough to make him launch forward, screaming in fury, his new C-cup chest wobbling heavily on his frame. She darted backwards, and with his changed centre of balance, he misjudged his attempt for the phone, and landed flat on his stomach. A burst of pain rippled out from his chest, causing him to shriek in a very unmanly manner. Dina dashed for the door, stopping only for a moment.

“That’s one thing you’ll have to get used to,” she said, “squishing your boobs really hurts.”

She wiped away a tear, before giving a slight smile.

“Thanks for making it really easy to break up with you, Rachel. I think I’ll hold onto that video, just in case you ever decide to be violent with me again. You stay the fuck away, you hear?”

He nodded weakly, and she left, leaving him to curl up on a pathetic ball of frustration.

***

Word spread quickly that Dina had broken up with him. She got the story out earlier than he could; his changed body limited his confidence in setting the record. As such, the talk all over campus was how he was having a personal crisis, and she dumped him because he was becoming ‘way too emotional.’ The worst part was that it was true; his emotions were getting the best of him. That night he went to bed crying, weeping at what was happening to him, and wishing Dina was at his side. With every sob, his new, heavier boobs jostled distractingly.

The emotions didn’t go away in the following days, either. It felt like it was affecting his studies. Richard had never been the smartest man - he hated academia, viewing it only as a necessary process on the road to his football career - but his work was continually getting worse, even more so. He was repeatedly stuffing up questions, getting things wrong, or not understanding an essay question. Maths problems he could easily solve before now gave him headaches, and larger words seemed to carry complications and make him feel nauseous.

“Are you sure you’re not getting dumber?” one arrogant shithead asked, some snobby nerdy kid that he would have beat up once upon a time. Instead, he simply fled from the room, overwhelmed and bursting with tears.

“Why is all this so f-fucking hard now?” he cried. “I f-feel like a dumb b-bimbo.”

The jiggling mounds on his body only made the feeling more prominent. It was like his mind kept drifting, imagining not only men’s bodies, despite his revulsion to them, but also how he could show off his own, which he certainly didn’t want to do. When the thoughts became so powerful that he answered only three questions out of twenty on a math test, he knew he had to contact Liza again.

***

The goth nerd made several prescriptions, none of which he liked.

“A fucking sports bra, are you serious?”

Liza shrugged. They’d agreed to meet at his place, since he was afraid to go out in public looking so feminine.

“Sorry ‘Starre’, but nothing is hiding those babies fully anymore. You’re a genuine C-cup.”

“But everyone will be able to tell I’m looking like a fucking girl.”

She crossed her arms. “Would you rather look a little out of shape - you know, with a set of ‘moobs’ - or have them bouncing around all the time and remove all doubt?”

He had to concede the point, though he still didn’t like it.

“Fuck it, give it here.”

“I can help. Bras can be tricky, especially for first time gals like you.”

He shot her an angry look, but she was undisturbed. He brought it over his head and fitted it over his generous C-cups, but still they jostled. After some frustration, he had to ask Liza to help secure it at the back, and teach him how.

“Damn fiddly,” he complained, as he settled them a second time. He was surprised at how ‘active’ an ample set of C-cups were. They were certainly larger than pears now, and if he grew any further, would be heading towards cantaloupe size. He was determined for that never to happen. “Are you sure this isn’t too tight?”

“Lemme have a look.”

His helper/blackmailer looked over him, tugging at the straps and checking his fitting. Embarrassingly, he let out an unintended groan of pleasure as she groped his breast a little. They were ludicrously sensitive, and his reaction caused her to smirk.

“It’s fine, for now.”

“It’s still tight.”

“Only a little. Probably because you’re getting closer to D’s, but the C-cup will hold. Welcome to the world of having bigger boobs. The tightness means its keeping ‘the girls’ at bay. They’ll still bounce a little, but much less than an ordinary bra. I’ve bought a few of those with the money you gave me as well.”

He gritted his teeth, stepping back and feeling quite self-conscious about being shirtless before her. “No way am I wearing regular bras.”

“You’ll get used to it,” she mused. “You’ll want them around the house when it’s just you, just so you can get some support.”

“No I won’t, this shit is temporary, remember? I’m getting my testosterone pumping. I’ve been taking so many supplements it must be taking effect soon. I’ve been working out, and fucking chicks left and right!”

It was a comical statement, given the news that had spread around since. He only gone out a few times, wearing a very baggy hoodie and loose pants, along with lift shoes, but already Dina was blabbing about their breakout, talking about how bad at sex he apparently was, how ‘unfulfilling’ he had been, and so on. It was utterly infuriating, but he could do little about it, knowing she had the evidence of his Lumin’s Syndrome. At least Liza, for all that she was squeezing him for money, wasn’t betraying him. Yet. The goth nerd gave a little smirk and raised an eyebrow expectedly.

“So all that talk from Dina Paley -”

“All complete bullshit.”

“You can still get that little weiner of yours up?”

He narrowed his eyes, and she backed down.

“Kidding,” she said, weakly. “Wow, you’re really taking this badly.”

“I’m turning into a fucking bimbo slut, how can this not be bad?”

That got her interest. “Well, those are your words. I just said ‘woman.’ Pretty telling.”

“I know not all chicks are sluts, or whatever. It’s just . . . anyway, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m going to beat this fucking thing. I’ve done some reading of my own. A body can fight off a virus if it’s strong enough. And I’m the strongest there is, or at least I was. I’ll be seeing some progress. I just have to cover up these changes as much as I can for now. Get a damned haircut. Most people think I’ve dyed my hair blonde now anyway, so it won’t be the biggest deal. It’s just these I need to worry about.”

He gestured to his chest, shifting a little, testing the strength of the sports bra. His breasts jostled, but were quite contained, though not as well as with his compression wrap. That particular option was no longer available to him now, given his . . . bounteous size. He didn’t say it, but the bra was indeed a lot more comfortable. A small part of his brain even told him that his chest looked quite good now.

“Well, technically your condition is a genetic disorder, not a virus, but whatever floats your boat, man. Just keep up what you’re doing. I still think a real doctor would-”

“Already been down that road. They told me there was no hope. I’m not giving it up yet. Not by a damn longshot, not matter what weird shit Dina says about me, I’ll be back to being the top dog of the campus soon, and she’ll be jealous when I’ve got all the other hot chicks on my arms.”

Liza rolled her eyes, packing up her stuff. “Sure, Mr Alpha Wolf. Best of luck with that. So long as you keep paying me, I’ll keep helping.” She gestured to a shopping back. “I’ve put some extra things in there for you, just in case, as well as some inserts for your, ahem, male pride. You try to keep up with the other players in your next game.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Thanks would be good.”

“I paid you, didn’t I? I’ll thank you when this is over.”

She grinned. “I’m really looking forward to that.”

He detected a trace of irony in her voice.

“Fine, thanks. Or whatever.”

“Good.”

And then she was gone, out the door and into her car. He watched her go, annoyed at this girl who thought she was better than him. She needed a good lay to calm her attitude. Someone to fuck her good. He should have been up to the task, but somehow he was completely submissive in her presence. When her car started and she drove off, he actually let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Why the fuck do I always feel so damn beta in her presence?” he asked himself. He shivered a little, scared of how oddly submissive he was becoming when others pushed back against him. He needed to reassert control. He leaned over the back, repulsed a little by how gravity pulled his breasts at a different angle in his new sports bra, and checked out what Liza had left him.

“Goddamnit,” he said to himself as he rifled through the contents.

Just like she’d said, there were inserts to fit within his shirts, padded filling to bulk out his thinning body. There was also some male deodorant; apparently his body ‘smelled nicer’, according to her, and he strongly suspected that ‘nicer’ meant ‘more feminine.’ Damn dyke. Some bras were within, most practical, a few surprisingly racy; one was black and semi-transparent, and clearly this was a joke on him. Worse still, she had prepared for the future: at least half were for full D-cups, and one was even listed as an E-cup, and the biggest as an F-cup. That was larger even than Dina’s huge tits, big enough to store cantaloupes and then some. They might as well be used to smuggle actual melons, if they were on the smaller size.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, as he picked up a rolled sock. He had an idea where that was meant to be stuffed.

There was also, at the very bottom of the bag, some feminine products - tampons, pads, even something called a ‘period cup’ - tied together with a note attached.

In case things keep changing, Rich. After all, if you do become a girl, it’s time you learned part of the Girl Code: always offer a period product to a woman who needs it, even if you hate her guts.

“That bitch,” he spat.

He touched his throat, a little disturbed. With his changed voice, he almost sounded like a jealous valley girl cussing out a rival.

***

He could not hold of football training any longer under the vague excuse of being ‘sick.’ Rich had to bite the bullet, even though it was still only four days after that last big change. The smaller changes still continued - the subtle widening of his hips, his reduction in height, he swore his breasts were still bloating up a little - but he was most afraid of another big one hitting. He was terrified of what the other guys would say in his presence, how much they would notice, and so he was constantly fussing over himself, padding down his chest and adjusting the sock that was used to pad out his underwear briefs.

Ironically, this behaviour was only drawing more attention to himself, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He was starting to feel more and more aware of his looks in front of clothes, and oddly enough, that was starting to feel natural. As if he needed to look right for a crowd, especially for the boys. Especially since those damned dreams with Brandon in them hadn’t halted. In fact, they’d only become more frequent.

He had just managed to purge his mind of the image of hot dudes when he entered the practice area, deliberately a little late. He was adorned in his full gear, the extra padding under his shirt to mimic his musculature, and subtly raised heels on his shoes to reduce the realisation of his height. He managed briefly to overhear some conversation as he came in.

“Dina going out with you now?”

“Nah, she claims she wants ‘time to sort my shit out’, or something.”

That was Brandon’s voice.

“Shame. Can’t believe Rich let her go. What an idiot.”

“Man’s a damn fool, but he’s got his own problems, so I hear. Can’t even turn up to training on time anymore. He used to bark at us for turning up late. Some ‘Star’!”

Richard puffed out his chest as best as he could, and stepped forward.

“You were saying?”

The team turned to him, and Brandon had a brief look of surprise on his face.

“Well, well, the man himself dares to show up. Or were you too busy begging for Dina to take your little dick back, huh?”

Richard blushed, embarrassed. He’d done his best to use Liza’s makeup lessons to make his features seem sharper, to emphasise the still-masculine parts of his face, but he was unable to help the fact that his cheeks went rosy red much more easily these days. In fact, he had to choke down a moment of pure emotion that he never would have felt before.

“Just - just shut up, okay?”

Brandon chuckled. “Seriously, that’s all you got man? I expected more pushback, especially with all that shit Dina’s spewing. Is that why you been taking separate showers lately?”

Richard cringed, trying to think of something to say, but it was difficult, in the sight of so many imposing men, all of them more muscled than him, Brandon and Tain most of all. The latter was giving him a sympathetic look that boiled his anger, as if he needed pity from the team lunkhead. But it was Brandon who was having the strangest effect on him. The man’s mockery seemed to hurt in a visceral way, like the hurt that comes from being betrayed by a close friend, rather than simply insults from a rival.

“No, just - fuck off about this, okay? Let’s, like, get to training already.”

A smile. “Yes ma’am.”

For a moment, Richard froze. Did he know? No, there was no way. Dina wouldn’t have. And Liza was being paid. And that quack doctor who used to be a man had no way of doing so anyway. It was just an insult, but it hit him right to the core.

“Like, whatevs,” he said. He’d meant to say ‘whatever’, but the uncharacteristic abbreviation just slipped out.

***

What followed was the most embarrassing training session of Richard’s life. He knew he wasn’t as buff or tough as before, but he had assumed he would at least be able to still move deftly with the ball. Instead, when several players advanced implacably towards him, their huge bodies seeming to dwarf his, he actually shrieked, throwing the ball elsewhere and covering his face in fear. He was meant to be Richard Starre, the Star of the Bulls, he shouldn’t feel fear at all!

It was enough that training actually paused briefly.

“Are you sure you’re okay, man?” Tain asked, leaning over a little to see if he was okay. “You look different lately, like you lost weight. And no offence, but did you get surgery or something done?”

Richard looked to him with astonishment. “Like, what?”

Tain looked a little red-cheeked, scratching the back of his head as he tried to figure out how to put what he was going to say. “It’s just . . . your ass, dude. It looks weird. I mean, it looks huge.”

Richard sagged. He hadn’t even realised how much bigger his rear ‘padding’ had gotten. His chest was distracting enough, along with his hips, that his bouncing bottom hadn’t grabbed enough attention. He turned, looking as best as he could at it, and it startled him. It was indeed quite rounded in his training shorts. Dina had an amazing fucking body, but a part of him recognised that his own ass was shaping up to be more impressive than hers ever was. He sucked in a breath at the strange sense of pride that gave. He imagined a large, masculine hand groping it and squeezing . . .

“Fuck!” he gasped. The thought had come from nowhere, and made his nipples hard.

“Uh, you okay dude?”

“Yeah, it’s just - it’s just an infection, alright?”

Tain didn’t seem convinced, neither did the others when they questioned him about it. The worst were those that didn’t question at all, but instead just stared. Various teammates continued to whisper and discuss his bodily changes, his personality changes, even the way his speech had changed.

“What’s with all the ‘likes’, dude?” said Carter, one of their offensive linemen.

“Like, what do you mean?”

“That! Just there. You’re always saying ‘like’ and ‘totally’ and ‘whatevs’ lately. You sound like one of those valley girls you like fucking.”

Richard groaned. He hadn’t even realised. “I’m totes not doing that, dude.”

“You literally just said ‘totes’.”

“Whatevs!”

“And you’re still doing it!”

“Fuck, sorry. It’s just, like, being dumped by Dina really hit me, you know.” He’d meant it as a cover, but it sounded pathetic. Why was he indulging her version of the story? But once he’d started, he just couldn’t stop, even knowing he was in earshot of Brandon, who was also taking a water break. “It’s just, ever since she left I’ve been feeling, like, so emotional. I can’t even - I just can’t deal with it!”

Holy shit, had he just said ‘I can’t even’? He tried to steady his breathing, but the tears began to flow. Goddamnit, it was all becoming too much. He was meant to be a friggin’ alpha male, but the entire time he’d been training he couldn’t ignore the way his tits wobbled in his sports bra, or how his ass bounced, or even that he had to concentrate to avoid shaking his hips.

Carter looked at him, shocked that the man so full of bravado and macho power was now tearing up in front of him. He quietly excused himself, apologising. Richard wiped away his tears, sniffing and sobbing slightly, unable to stop. He turned, and saw that Brandon was staring his way. He wasn’t smug, however. His expression was almost pensive, in fact.

“Like, stop looking at me!” he declared, before running to the shower blocks.

Training wasn’t over, but he’d had enough. He found the private stall, ripped off his things, closed the door, and turned it on. He needed to feel fresh; wearing all the fake muscle padding had left him feeling gross and sweaty, and for some reason that was bothering him even more than usual. Was it a result of the Lumin’s Syndrome, that he now found getting all dirty and sweaty unappealing? He hoped it was. That was, he could classify it as just one more challenge to overcome.

The shower stall had a steel mirror, and while it wasn’t the most reflective surface, it clearly showed the increased changes of his body as he undressed. Richard cursed beneath his breath as he looked at his bustline; it had only ‘enhanced’ further, bulging over the cups decisively now. There was no doubt in his mind that he had reached a D-cup size. This was especially humiliating, because he’d once bragged that he never dated chicks who were less than a D-cup.

“I like ‘em big, heavy, and bouncy,” he’d said.

Well now his were big, certainly heavy, and they bounced with every step, even in a bra. And the rest of him was not much better; his hair had lightened further, and was almost platinum blonde. It was almost perfectly straight now; he had to hide it under a beanie or hat, or otherwise put gel in it to keep it under control. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the expansion of his ass; his hips had gotten wider, and his rear had only packed on further flesh to make it all the more enticing.

“A fucking woman. Fuck this shit. Like, fuck Lumin’s Syndrome!” he said.

Even his voice sounded whiny and feminine now. He sighed, deflated, and stepped into the shower. At least the water was wonderful on his skin. Rich wasn’t sure if it was the hairlessness of his new body, or simply its increasing femaleness, but his sensitivity was greatly enhanced. Just the feeling of warm water over his body was oddly sensual, and he began to caress himself, at first as part of a routine clean, and then as something . . . more.

“Aahh,” he breathed, as he rubbed his thin fingers over his nipples. Those too had expanded in size, now utterly female, and surprisingly large. With each rub, each pinch, little tendrils of pleasure rippled through him, making him weak at the knees. He ran the water through his straight blonde hair, and despite his embarrassment over his new form, he gave a surprised little giggle when it matted over his eyesight, something he still wasn’t used to.

“Oh God, I do totes sound like a bimbo,” he said. “Dammit. It’s, like, so hard not to say ‘like’!”

His hand wandered over his navel, so soft and smooth. There was the merest feminine pooch on his lower stomach. There was a reason women generally had that, and he felt he should have known that, but it slipped his mind. Just like his math test the previous day had been even harder than usual for him. He must have been so distracted by recent events that more things were harder to recall now. At least, he assumed that was the case.

Richard closed his eyes, continued to caress himself more and more. The worries on the training field melted away as he indulged in his new form. Tain’s questions, Carter’s mockery, even Brandon’s insults and later stares dissipated from his mind as he continued to moan louder and louder, increasingly female in voice.

“Mmhmhmm . . . ohhhh . . . Brandon.”

He hadn’t meant to say it again, but the name just slipped in, as did the visual. He couldn’t stand his rival, and yet, despite his anger towards the man, he couldn’t help but conjure an image in his mind of the tall, dark-skinned player with his impressive muscles and handsome face. Richard bit a lip, not wanting to imagine more, yet not daring to stop. He began to grope his breasts, imagining it was Brandon doing the squeezing, and the small remains of his penis hardened halfway as he imagined his muscular body against her own.

Her own. He meant his own!

Still, the thoughts continued. He imagined strong hands groping his rounded ass. He salivated at the thought of a strong man wrapping his strong hands around his own weak waist. Rich bit his lip, breathing harder, thinking of what it would be like to be a full woman, to have a vagina that was capable of swallowing a big, black dick like Brandon’s. He’d seen it in the change room. It was big indeed. Huge, in fact. God, like, what would it feel like? She bet it would totally feel amazing. She knew it was wrong, but having that super hot dude squeeze her big sensitive tits while he thrust into her, oh God it would be like the sexiest fucking thing ever and-

“Hey, what the hell Rich, you’ve got a girl in there?”

Richard stopped. He hadn’t even realised, but he’d been jerking himself off, pinching his nipples, and groaning very loudly. Fuck. He turned off the shower.

“N-no. It’s just - it was just my phone. It’s, like, a new ringtone.”

“In the shower? What the - whatever. I don’t give a fuck. We need to have a talk man. You haven’t been cutting it lately. The big game is in two days, and you’re too weak. I don’t know what’s going on, but your star power just won’t cut it this time. You’ve got all that big talk, but when the chips are down, you’re failing us.”

“You - you’re just jealous!”

It was a weak response, and Richard knew it. So did Brandon.

“Of course I’m fucking jealous of you, man. You’re the Star of the Bulls. You can’t let anyone forget it. Except you’re not the star anymore. I am. And frankly, I’m a better team player than you ever were, hogging all the spotlight. Clearly, it’s gotten to your head, because your performance can’t be trusted. Which is why you aren’t playing for the rest of the season.”

Richard’s heart stopped for a moment. No, no way. It wasn’t, like, fair at all.

“Dude, that’s totally a jackass move!”

“The decision is made,” came the voice from the other side. “I’m taking your spot.”

“You can’t do this! You’re being a real bitch right now?”

A laugh echoed through the door. “Me, the real bitch? That’s rich, coming from the guy who looks like a total femboy these days. You know, most of the guys think you’re gay now, with the way you keep staring at them. But it’s me you keep looking at the most, isn’t it? Only, I think I know the reason.”

There was a loud smack, and the door cracked open, the lock flying off its hinges. Richard squealed, grabbing his breasts in shame, trying to hide himself and unable to do so. Brandon loomed in the doorway, tall and muscular, a smug grin on his face.

“I fucking knew it. You are becoming a woman.”

Richard whimpered. He actually fucking whimpered.

“Those are a fine set of titties you’ve got there, Mr Starre. Real nice. Some great hips too. Shame about what’s between them.”

To Richard’s shock, the compliments felt somehow validating, particularly the compliments of his chest. He knew it was in chest, but coming from Brandon, it made him slightly weak at the knees. He couldn’t help it; the man who he once regularly dunked on as his rival now held some strange sway over him, and it was only getting stronger; his nipples were becoming fully erect.

“I - can explain,” he said, voice high and reedy.

“Oh, I don’t need you to do that,” Brandon replied, closing the battered door behind him and advancing towards the feminised man. “I already figured out most of it. You see, I’ve always had a keen eye for detail, Richard. It’s why my grades are better than you. It’s why I work on the field with the team better than you. It’s also how I noticed out the corner of my eye that some weird goth nerd was meeting with you one day. Now, I didn’t catch everything, but the fact that you were trying to boost your testosterone had me interested. I thought you were boosting, but then I saw the changes that were happening to you. And then Dina comes and tells me personally just four days ago that you screamed my name during sex.”

Richard gasped. “She - she’s totes lying!”

“I don’t think so. Dina is hot as fuck, but she’s also a sweet thing. I know she was telling the truth. Particularly since she also told me your body was changing, though she didn’t go into great detail on how, I know how to put two and two together, unlike some.”

The insult rankled. Rich was becoming dumber, he knew it. Even the tactics of the game weren’t making much sense to him anymore.

“It’s just, like, a temporary condition.”

“Sure it is. I bet you like telling yourself that, even while you grow big tits.”

Another step closer, and Richard’s breath quickened. His chest rose and fell.

“You know, I looked up what you probably have. Lumin’s Syndrome, or some shit. Pretty damn rare. Only a few people ever had it. Unlucky you. Or, judging from how you’re looking at my arms, maybe lucky you.”

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?” Another step closer. So close she could smell him. No, not she! He! “Then I imagine you’ll fight back if I cop a feel of that nice big rack you’ve got there?”

Richard froze. He wanted to escape. To push past Brandon. He knew he could. She definitely could. But . . . the fit, handsome, hunky man in front of her was powerful, domineering. And in his presence she felt utterly submissive to him.

“I . . . I . . .”

His hands reached out, and she lowered her own, clenching her eyes shut in preparation. She bit her lip as they made contact, his large masculine hands softly squeezing her D-cups.

“MMhmmh - oohhh f-fuck!”

“Mhm, you like that, Rich, don’t you?”

“I - ahh - stop!”

Another grope. Another wonderful squeeze.

“Are you sure you want me to stop? Say it again and I will.”

Richard tried to say it. He really did. But the needy, female part of him simply couldn’t. Brandon was too strong in her thoughts. She needed him. She could imagine his big, long, hard dick in his pants, ready to penetrate her. She imagined so many ways that it could, and it disgusted her how much it turned her on.

“It’s - Nggnh - n-not right!”

“You’re right. You’ve still got a bit of dick. But then, another thing I read about Lumin’s Syndrome is that getting super turned on can accelerate the changes.”

He rubbed Richard’s nipple again, eliciting an unintentional moan from her. She leaned closer, shuddering at the strength of his touch. His other hand traced down her back, and it was impossible to deny the femaleness of this moment, as her breasts pressed against his shirt. She gave a squeak once again as he gripped her ass, squeezing unexpectedly tight in a way that made her desperately aroused. A tightness came over her, an early sign of pressure.

“N-no. Brandon, stop this. I’m s-sorry about being, like, so bad to you. But I d-don’t want to become a busty bimbo.”

Brandon smiled down at her. “Oh, but I would love that. You know, I thought I was going to enjoy getting Dina Paley to be my new girlfriend, but I think you’ve got the makings of a chick way hotter than her, Richard. It’ll be the ultimate justice too, for all the times you fucked me around, now I get to fuck you right back, only the fucking is going to be a lot more literal when you’ve got a lovely little pussy for me to stick my dick in.”

Richard moaned. God, she could just imagine it.

“Yessss,” she stammered, “that sounds s-so good. I mean, like, no! I don’t want that!”

But she was too lost in arousal and pleasure to pull away entirely, even as a greater pressure blossomed in her chest, in her hips and ass, and even more powerfully in her crotch.

"Ooohhh, Brandon, you've got to - I can't, like, become a woman."

Her nipples throbbed, responding to every touch. He rolled then lightly between his fingers, eliciting gasps of pleasure from her. She felt the pressure grow, that increase in activity in her body, that activation of Lumin's Syndrome.

"Richard Starre, I think you're already more than halfway there man. And I just can't wait to see what you look like when you're done, and addicted to me, while I take your spot as the team captain."

Another tension in her muscles, another pooling of fat and tissue into new areas. Richard squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will her body to stop. Trying to hold off against the inevitable changes. She mentally strained, trying not to allow them to begin.

It was at that point that Brandon removed his shirt, allowing her to take in his dark, muscled, oh-so-manly form. She had seen him naked in the changerooms before, but had never seen him quite like this. Richard’s former rival smirked, clearly enjoying the new power he had, and removed his shorts and briefs, revealing a gigantic cock that was completely erect. Her eyes widened as she took in its hardness, its length. And despite herself, she imagined what it would be like to take it inside her.

Hurriedly, she put her sports bra on, trying to hide from his touch and gain some semblance of normality. To retain some sense of manliness.

“That won’t do anything. You know you want this, Richard,” Brandon said. God, his voice was so hot. Like, seriously hawt. It had an almost hypnotic effect on her, capturing her. She realised in that moment why she kept imagining Brandon, why her bimbofying body wanted him of all people. It was because, staring up at his muscular body and confident smile, she realised that he was an alpha male. The kind she was supposed to be as Richard.

But not her body was drawn irrevocably to his.

Her breasts plumped outwards, the skin briefly stretching before it too expanded to contain the larger feminine globes. She trembled, releasing a huge intake of breath, as if she’d been holding back the tide of her breast growth. Her voice whined, increasingly high and feminine, almost ditzy, as they strained against , overflowing it, little pooches shifting out to the sides.

“Nnyyahhhhhhhh! AAAiiiiiii!”

Brandon held her, fascinated as her features softened, becoming resolutely female, and incredibly so. She withered beneath his gaze, wanting to be anywhere else and yet simultaneously loving the way he stared at her big, heavy tits. The material of her sports bra stretched, straining to contain her. Her supple chest finally reached a point she had never imagined it would; they expanded beyond Dina’s own E-cup globes and into new territory. She gasped, her plump lips separated as she beheld the enormous cleavage now dominating her view; she could not longer even see her feet! And more than that, she couldn’t see the changes going on further down.

But she felt them all the same.

“F-fuuuuck, no! N-not my diiiick!”

The final threshold to woman had come, and it occurred partially in response to the sheer arousal of Brandon’s own huge cock. She grabbed her crotch with her hands, felt it shrink away, as if the flesh itself was absorbing back into her body. She gave a high whine, her bimbo voice making her sound like a girl freaking out in a fashion store.

“Oh - oohh my Gaawwwwwd!”

It pulled back into her body, the flesh parting to form a feminine passage. She squirmed, steadied only by Brandon’s arms as her new womanly flower developed, her labia lips and little sensitive clit. It was the most alien sensation yet, and the most symbolic; the loss of the last vestigial remnant of her manhood.

Brandon laughed. “Oh man, holy shit, this is just perfect. I knew you had Lumin’s Syndrome, and I’d put together that it was making you have it bad for me. But I had no idea  you were gonna be this far along, or change this much in front of me. God, even your face changed. You look like a total slut, Richard.”

She did. She saw herself in the mirror; with her high eyebrows, big blue eyes, and pouty lips, she had an almost permanently surprised look to her, like she was just some dumb blonde bimbo.

“A nice big pair of dick sucking lips, by the looks of it,” Brandon mused.

He was right. Despite the part of her that was still male, the humiliated, ashamed, angry part of her that demanded to be made male again, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to wrap her juicy lips all over his gorgeous thick cock, and suck it dry.

She shuffled forwards, entranced. She couldn’t think of much else except Brandon’s magnificent black dick. She needed it. She reached out her fingers to gingerly touch it, and he grunted in satisfaction as she made contact.

“Mmhm, I like you like this, bitchard. In front of me, on your knees, ready to suck me off.”

He reached out, grabbed her by the back of the head, and pulled her closer. She didn’t expect it, and she opened her mouth to protest, only to end up with her lips right over his member.

“MMMPH!”

It tasted wonderful. And he hadn’t even come yet. She rolled her eyes in the same way someone did when consuming a delicious dessert. Gawd, why had she fought this? Brandon began to rub her sensitive titties, and they were somehow even more sensitive than before. Her nipples and areola were delightful to the touch, sending her into delirious bubbles of bliss, but even the larger breast was ached with pleasure at being touched, particularly - to her surprise - the underside, which was quite prodigious now.

“That’s right, you’re my bitch now,” Brandon continued, “you love sucking my cock, don’t you. Nod if it’s true.”

She nodded, eagerly, happy to please him. Pleasing him brought little butterflies of joy to her stomach. She continued to take him into her mouth, shocked at how much he filled. His thick shaft descended to her throat, and she gagged for only the briefest of moment before begin able to accept it. She was, like, such a bimbo slut now. Even her gag reflex was borderline non-existent, perfect for sucking cocks.

And swallowing cum.

Brandon grunted again as she continued to deep throat him. She vacillated between looking up at this dominant man’s eyes, terrified yet submissive to his presence, and rolling her eyes back in her head in pleasure as he squeezed her heavy, wobbling chest.

She continued her motions, swallowing his large size, and struggling to break away. She had to. She had to go back. She could have sworn she was going to be a man again. Where had it all gone wrong?

And then Brandon grunted even louder, and gripped her hair in a tight enough manner that made her whimper in desire. She tried to pull away, and yet his grip was firm. She felt his dick pulse, and she stopped resisting, her eagerness rising. There was something just so damn right about sucking off her boyfriend so well that he came right down her throat.

She blinked. What the fuck was wrong with her?

But then it was too late. His dick throbbed, Brandon grasped, and she gave a muffled moan as his seed shot into her mouth and down her throat in thick, sticky, warm wads. It tasted surprisingly salty, and far worse, it was delicious. Another throb, another grunt, another ejaculation, another swallow. She couldn’t get enough. Gawd, it was addictive! His cum was, like, so damn tasty! It was totes delicious, and she was - AGH!

“NOOO!”

She pulled herself off his dick, and it flopped out of her mouth, wonderfully clean of his issue, which was already settling into her stomach to be digested. Richard looks over herself. No, himself. He was still a guy at heart, even if he’d . . . even though he’d . . .

“What’s wrong, Bitchard?” Brandon snarled, “you seemed to be having a good time.”

“You - you dickhed! You, like, knew you were speeding up my change! Now I look like a total slut!”

Her voice was reedy, like that of a Valley Girl stereotype. Her breasts wobbled heavily, barely contained by her too-tight sports bra. They were a humungous set of tits that easily rivalled her own head for size each, and their weight was incredible, pulling on her shoulders and requiring large cups to contain them. The rest of her had also become softer, more feminine. Her ass was wonderfully rounded in a way Dina’s could never hope to be, and even her skin was paler, all the better to match the incredibly straight, silky strands of platinum blond hair that fell to her nipples. She was, in so many ways, the ultimate campus hottie now, her body the kind that would be legendary to future years of college football teams.

“You are a total slut now, unless you just gave me the best blowjob of my life as a once-off, which I doubt. But don’t worry, Bitchard, I have a feeling we’re not going to be rivals anymore. I rather think I’m going to enjoy having you as my slut. Tell me you don’t want that?”

Richard’s imagination fired up, already visualising being the hottest girl on campus, of wearing tight, sexy outfits that showed off his flat stomach and contoured to his enormous breasts, being eye candy to everyone but belonging to Brandon. In that future, his body would be the envy of women, lusted after by men, and possessed by his former rival, who would make sure he knew he was his bimbo girlfriend forever.

He had to get out of there before that dream became a reality. He quickly grabbed her clothing, leaving the padding and phallus-sock and all the parts he could not carry in a heap behind her. He ran past Brandon, who simply chuckled.

“You’ll be back, Richard! And I look forward to giving you a new name as well! I don’t think your current one suits you anymore! I’ll be sure to think up something real hot though!”

He ran, tears in his eyes, slamming open the door and running half-naked out into the change room. His heart beat heavily in his expanded chest as he saw his entire football team walking into the changerooms. Carter and Tain and all the rest stared at him, and someone gave a wolf whistle.

“Holy shit, where did you come from, missy?” Carter called.

Tain just popped a near-instantaneous erection, too polite to say anything, but his body and gaze telling everything.

“Fuck!” Richard gasped, running past them. His enormous tits flopped heavily, threatening to break open his sports bra, and his bounteous behind bounced with each step. He briefly slipped over on the grass, getting mud on his body, and another set of wolf whistles followed.

“Watch out, mud wrestling! Someone find another hottie!”

“Seriously, who is that?”

He got up and kept running, clutching his massive melons to keep them from jiggling, and failing miserably. The last thing he heard before he disappeared out of sight was the amused and fascinated commentary of his former teammates.

“Hot damn Brandon, is that your new girl? What the hell spooked her?”

“Oh her, yeah, she and I were having some fun. I just don’t think she expected you. But not to worry, you’ll be seeing her again. She’ll be a regular fixture, I think.”

***

The final changes settled in over the next two days. During that time, Richard remains in his room, only ordering food by delivery, and groceries as well. He didn’t have to eat as much anymore, and to his annoyance, even his tastebuds had changed; he found he had become a real sweet tooth, enjoying candy, particularly lollipops that he could suck on in a sensual manner, imagining despite himself that it was Brandon’s big cock.

Liza had called several times, but Richard simply refused to answer. There was no way the total nerd could help him any more, and besides, he was starting to realise her whole goth shtick was soooo tacky. Like, if she just brightened up her face a bit and changed her outfits, she would look totally prettier. He’d suspended any further transactions to her. After all, she’d tried to blackmail him. Had succeeded, in fact.

“Total bitch,” he mumbled to himself.

He later received a text from her.

Well, I guess your changes are pretty complete, then? Have fun being a woman - FYI in the future try to actually listen to doctors and science instead of what’s manly. That’s stupid AF. Still, thanks for the grift. I look forward to letting everyone know what’s really happened to you. Consider it a thanks for all the times you called me a ‘stupid nerd’ or ‘goth bitch.’

He threw the phone across the room and screamed when he read it. No doubt word was already spreading, adding to Liza’s story, and perhaps mingling with the football team’s recollections. No doubt Brandon was loving it all. They were all against him, he’d had no chance from the beginning.

“I was meant to be, like, the fucking star,” he moaned to himself. “It was meant to be me at the top! Me they praised! I was the fucking alpha male, and now I, like, look like a fucking bimbo slut!”

Doctor Kaley had also called a number of times, and he too let that dial out, instead choosing to sulk in his new female body.

And it was indeed very, very female. In the aftermath of giving that terrible, wonderful blowjob, Richard had managed to wrestle back some male pride, even able to think of himself in male pronouns if he focused hard enough. But nothing was able to wrestle back his male body. He had returned from the blowjob incident already incredibly changed, and the following two days only cemented those changes further. The last tremors of pressure, of tingling skin, had finally faded away, leaving him with a figure that left even Dina fucking Paley in the dust.

He knew this because he couldn’t help but constantly examine himself in the mirror, tracing his eyes over every curve. He looked like a fourteen-year old’s wet dream come to life, like the absolute ideal of a blonde busty bimbo with big tits and a big ass and big thick lips for sucking big thick dick. He couldn’t not pout, and each move made his curvaceous hips sway in a manner that would turn on every man in a three hundred foot radius. His hair now spilled down to nipple level, straight and platinum blonde, matching his baby blue eyes which were almost doe-like in their largeness. His tits were his most prominent feature though. They were impossible to ignore: each tiny movement - no matter how small - made them jiggle and jostle even a little. Just moving his arms caused them to brush against the ‘spillage’ to the side that each breast had. They were huge enough, in fact, that they were easily visible viewing him from behind; he’d seen so using the bathroom mirror. Yet despite their size, they were amazingly pert on his chest, their big pink nipples wonderfully sensitive.

He couldn’t help himself but to touch them. More than once, he’d brought himself to orgasm just imagining what it would be like to have a man squeeze them again, especially Brandon. Or even better, to suck him off again while he tittyfucked his long shaft within Richard’s cleavage.

But they were heavy, and even the biggest bras Liza had bought him didn’t fit. He spilled out of them, his tits overflowing, and it actually made him giggle a little. They were frustrating, heavy, annoying as all fuck. But there was also a growing kernel of pride in them.

“Eat your fucking heart out Dina,” he said once while posing in the mirror, before realising what he’d just said.

A small part of him thought that he had good reason to be proud; he was, after all, fully a woman now. He had a - a vagina to prove it. It was difficult to admit it, but it was there. And it was often wet. It felt great to touch, and his clit was wonderfully, horribly sensitive. In the morning, he would often wake with the need to play with himself, feeling his fingers inside his own passage and picturing it to be another man’s member stretching him wide.

And this continued for some time, until there was a knock upon the door one morning that broke him out of this particular sad reverie. Richard bolted out of bed, a little scared as to who it was. He was still wearing some of the lingerie Liza had bought, as well as an F-cup bra that was too restrictive. He quickly threw on a shirt and buckled a set of pants that were far too big, and made his way to the door.

“Like, who is it?” he said, wincing at how valley girl he sounded.

“Is this Richard Starre’s place?”

It was a woman’s voice, and a pretty one too. Richard tried to think of a response but couldn’t. It was like his mental space had been reduced, his intelligence further limited by his bimbo nature.

“Um, yeah, it is.”

“My name is Francine Robbins. I’m guessing you’re Richard?”

“Um, like, what are you even talking about? Do I sound like a man to you?”

“Richard, I used to be Francis. I had Lumin’s Syndrome. Dr Kaley sent me. She thought you might want to talk to someone else who went through what you’re still going through.”

The former male didn’t know what to say. He opened the door. On the other side was a gorgeous woman not unlike himself, but for a few differences. For one, she was clearly in her early thirties, with a slightly more mature, sexy look. She too had blonde hair, though it was more wavy than silky straight. She wore office attire; a tight white blouse and grey pencil skirt over dark stockings. It was a good look, but not Richard’s style. At least, he didn’t think it was his new body’s style. The woman’s lips were not quite so bimbofied, though still full, and while she was busty as all hell - equal to Dina - Richard’s own melons were quite larger. He felt a strange sense of smugness at that.

“Wow, you’re much further along than Dr Kaley thought you would be.”

Richard blushed, deeply. He twirled a stray hair with his finger - another girlish habit he was developing.

“Like, yeah, I think I am.”

“Well, you look totally hot. I’m a little bit jelly of your bod, to be honest.”

Richard gaped. “So you - you talk, like, um, like this all the time?”

The woman nodded, a bit of playful excitement to her. “I can turn it off, but it’s totes natural when I let it be. Can I come in?”

Richard bit her lip at the word ‘come.’ He motioned the woman to come in.

“Quite the place you’ve got,” Francine said idly. “You’re at the hiding stage then. I remember that. It was supes embarrassing. I got a lot better when I totally just let loose and accepted it all.”

Richard sat down, placing his cute face in his hands. His breasts flopped heavily as he did so. Even with his cleavage covered up, his shirt was stretched tight around two prominent spots.

“It’s not fair. Why is this happening to me? Why can’t it, like, happen to fucking Brandon or some shit?”

“Brandon is your friend?”

“My fucking rival. Only . . .”

The other woman sat down in a chair. She seemed to naturally assume a sexy feminine position, one leg over the other, her cleavage showing through the unbuttoned top of her blouse.

“Only you have feelings for him now, right? Tell me I’m right.”

Another sigh. “You’re right. How - how did you deal with it? How did it happen to you?”

The other woman gave a cute chuckle. “Oh, I barely dealt with it, like, at all! I fought it all the way to the end, and I had the money to do so. It only made the effects stronger, as you probably know by now.”

Richard thought of that incredible blowjob he’d given, and the changes that followed.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I do.”

“Mm-hm. I was like this super ambitious businessman who was going places. Treated woman like shit. So it was karma or whatever. Lumin’s Syndrome isn’t the most researched disease or syndrome or disorder - I honestly forget which it is - but it certainly ups the libido. I couldn’t stop thinking about hot, hunky guys and their big dicks when I was far into my changes.”

Richard sat more upright, straining the strap of his bra. “That’s what I want to, like, know. How do I stop this? How do you hold back?”

The woman appeared briefly confused. “Oh, sorry honey. I thought Kaley would have told you. I, like, don’t fight it at all. I’m a total office slut.”

Richard’s jaw dropped. The woman grinned, gesturing to her hot as fuck body. The kind that Richard would have found deeply attractive were he not now hot for boys instead.

“That’s - but how can you stand it?”

“Have you had sex with a guy yet? It’s totally the best. Seriously, getting fucked as a woman is the best. It’s like sex as a man times a thousand, more if two guys are involved. Plus Lumin’s Syndrome makes us super sensitive, and gives us great orgasms, even when giving blowjobs.”

“I already know that!” Richard said, rolling his eyes, before realising what he was revealing. The woman simply smiled.

“Well, that’s just a taste,” Francine said. “Look, I’m just here to tell you it gets better, but you have to accept it.”

“But it’s making me a dumb bimbo!”

“Yeah, I lost some attention span too.”

“No, like really dumb! And super attracted to Brandon! When I’m around him, I just want to be his submissive little toy.”

“Hot.”

“It’s not hot! It’s wrong!”

Francine shrugged. “If you say so. Being someone’s submissive toy is what I’ve been doing for the last three years. I mean, I get around the whole office, including some of the gals, but I guess you aren’t, like, bi like I am.”

Richard frowned. “No, just hunky dudes. I can’t stop thinking about their big dicks!”

Francine rose, stepped forward, and placed her hand on Richard’s soft shoulder.

“Honey, if you spend all that time thinking about them, maybe you should just . . . try them.”

“No, I - I can’t! I’ll be a total bimbo if I do!”

“No offence, but you are absolutely a hot bimbo right now. Trust me, it ain’t so bad. It can be really fun. Particularly when guys look at you the way they do.”

It had been a turn on. A weird one that he didn’t want to think about.

“But I’m meant to be an alpha male,” he pouted. He sounded childish, and he knew it.

Francine sighed. “I was meant to be top of the business world, fucking hot secretaries when I wanted. Sometimes, life changes. You just gotta change with it, girl. Maybe you should say hello to this Brandon again, and see how you feel, being all submissive and shit to him. Maybe, just maybe, it’s what the new you wants.”

Tears welled in Richard’s eyes. It was true. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that sexy, dominating man. He didn’t care if Brandon took advantage of him, smirked as he fucked him, treated him like a submissive little bimbo trophy. He wanted to be that trophy. It was true. And talking to Francine made it so clear, even though he wanted to fight it.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whined.

Francine lowered herself, staring up at the busty former male.

“How about this, honey. We get you all dolled up like a woman should be, and then you make your decision?”

Richard considered it. It would be good to look good. It was what his mind had kept pushing him to be.

He nodded.

***

Brandon’s place was across town, but Richard didn’t care. He drove, giddy, excited even, but also defeated. He was humiliated and embarrassed and ashamed and repulsed, but the new horny bimbo within him had utterly won. He was wearing a sexy red dress that contoured to his generous curves and showed off the greater part of his bust. His cleavage was incredibly on display, and there was no preventing their heavy bounce and wobble as she stepped in heels to his front door and knocked upon the handle.

Her heart beat heavily as she heard footsteps. Gawd, what was she even doing? She realised she had shifted back to female pronouns again when the door opened, revealing Brandon in a tight white top and shorts, staring down at her. His eyes were fixated on her chest, and as they rose eventually to meet her eyes, she blushed deeply.

“Well, well, sexy. I guess you’re back for more.”

“I - I can’t help myself,” she whimpered. She breathed heavily, and her bosom rose and fell dramatically, catching the man’s gaze again. “It’s not fair, I shouldn’t be like this. I was meant to be the captain. The winner. Not you.”

“Except I am the winner now,” Brandon said. “We won the game, and the final is in two weeks. And now I’m the one being drafted into the NFL, not you.”

Another spike of humiliation, another feeling that this man had complete dominance over her increasingly passive self.

“You win,” she said, finally. “I’m, like, super jelly, but you win.”

“I did. Even after you were an asshole to everyone.”

“I was.”

“And now, you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

Just being called that made her nipples go erect, and made her pussy damp. Gawd, she needed this man in her. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, but she wanted him to fuck her good.

“I am. I’m a naughty girl. I - I don’t know why, but I want to be your naughty girl.”

Brandon grinned, stepping closer and eyeing her. “Are you sure, Richard?”

She looked down at the ground, trying not to plead.

“P-please. I need this. The Lumin’s Syndrome, I can’t, like, get you out of my head. I want you to fuck me.”

“I want a lot more than that. I want you exclusively.”

“I . . . yes.”

“All to myself. To fuck whenever I want. To be my trophy girlfriend. My sexy bimbo hottie I can show off to everyone, so they know that she used to be Richard Starre.”

Another nod. Gawd, she was getting so fucking wet. Just being put in her place was so fucking hot. She could jump this man’s bones right now.

“Mmm-hmm,” she managed, biting her lips, and staring up at him. “Anything. Anything for you to keep fucking me. I want your big black dick. I don’t care if you want a blowjob, a tittyjob, even anal! I just need you to fuck me, please!”

Brandon moved right up to her, so that her breasts pressed up against him. She shuddered at his touche, as he placed his hands on her ass.

“Well, I think we can arrange something, then. After all, you’ll still get a taste of the winning life, since you’ll be by my side. But you’ll need a new name if I’m going to fuck you. Richard just doesn’t. I want something sexier for when you cheer for me on the sidelines.”

Another groan. Another whimper. Francine was right. It did feel good to be dominated. To be made submissive. To be a horny little naughty bimbo slut in need of punishment.

“What - oohh - did you have in mind, Brandon?”

The man thought a little bit as he ran his hands over her trembling form. Richard knew he was on the final precipice, the last transition before his new bimbo life became set in stone. And he was helpless to avoid it. He’d already come too far.

She’d already come too far.

“Amber,” Brandon finally said. “Now that’s a fucking sexy name.”

“Amber,” she repeated, exhaling in pleasure. It was so right. A really hot name for a really hot girl, and one that a bimbo like her should have.

“Yes, Amber. Do you want me to take you upstairs and fuck your brains out, Amber?”

The final step. The final threshold.

But then, the former alpha male had never stood a chance.

“Please,” she begged, pressing against him. She kissed his dark neck, rubbed her heavy chest against his muscular one. “I, like, totally need you to fuck my brains out. I can’t help it!”

With a confident, assured look that drove her wild, the new football captain took her inside and up to his room. She shook the whole time, utterly nervous, but it didn’t take long for her to give herself over to him completely. She was, after all, so horny it was practically painful, and she was utterly submissive to the man she once liked to put in his place. They fucked long and hard all night, stopping only for water breaks. Brandon put her in every position imaginable, degrading her in all manner of ways that turned her on, and eliciting cries of pleasure and shame from her when he came inside her. His dick was just as she’d imagined it inside her; it parted her womanly depths, made her gasp as it inserted, and yet she held on for dear life, bucking wildly and begging for me.

“Fuck me! Oh gawd Brandon, fuck me good! I want you to keep on fucking me forever!”

“I - ahh - will!” he declared. “You’re going to be my bimbo bitch forever, and you’re going to love it!”

And the worst part was knowing that it was true. She was going to love it. After their final climax of the night, they collapsed against one another, Brandon fondling her tits before becoming the big spoon to her little spoon. She lay awake a little longer, utterly overcome by her new existence, and that she had actually followed Francine’s advice. She had been right, it had been easier to accept. Liza and Dr Kaley had been right too; the changes had been impossible to stop, and Amber had been a fool to even try.

As she lay in the dark, her body still full of cum, she could picture the rest of her life in vivid detail. She wouldn’t play the next game at all, how could she? Instead, she’d be Brandon’s own personal sexy mascot, cheering from the sidelines and kissing him deeply when he won. She would drop out from college, now too dumb to ever pass even the ordinary tests. She’d be his bimbo girlfriend, laughing at his jokes and dressing up sexy as a thing for him to show off. Amber would be reliant on Brandon, not just for sex and purpose but for financial stability too; just thinking about numbers and ordinary work made her new brain spin. He’d become an NFL star, and she his trophy girlfriend, and later his trophy wife, and sometime in the distant future he’d probably knock her up a few times so she’d become a trophy mother as well. She’d never regain her life, never escape her current situation, no matter how much a small part of her wanted to. She’d be submissive to his will until the end, always desiring his wonderful cock, and feeling a smug pride at her own looks, but she would always feel that private sense of shame as well. That knowledge that she was meant to be the football star, instead of a hot, dumb bimbo.

She could imagine it all, and she knew it would come true.

***

It was the next morning when Brandon finally woke. It was about time. Amber had been licking his wonderful prick and drawing it out to its immense, hard girth for some minutes, and she was absolutely insatiable with need.

“Mmmmhm, what a great wake up. I think I’ll get you to do this every morning, Amber. Does that sound good, huh?”

She nodded, eager to hear his praise. She licked his penis again, savouring its taste.

“Good. You make a way better hot babe than a player who thinks he’s hot shit. Are you ready for your new life as my sexy bitch?”

She shivered at being called such a sexy demeaning title.

“Yes. I like, totally am Brandon.”

“Nice. Because training starts in two hours, and I want to suck on your huge titties for good luck today. Get up here, and show me how much you need me.”

She did. Several times, in fact. It was important to show she was a team player, after all. Particularly since, to her equal frustration, embarrassment, and joy, she’d be stuck with those huge titties forever.

The End