It looked like it might be a slow night.  Ellen moved slowly down the street, her hands resting upon her leather-clad hips, trying not to look as if she wanted to be picked up.  She wanted things to stay slow.  God, not fucking tonight, please.  She once more brushed her thick, flowing red hair away from her face, feeling it rubbing against her ass as she pulled it back and positioned it around her shoulders.
    Her ankle twisted slightly as she stumbled over an uneven section of the sidewalk.  Her eyes instinctively glanced downward to see her feet, but she realized her futility of this action instantly.  The leather corset did a very good job of binding her enormous bosom, but even without its uplifting properties Ellen's gigantic tits made it impossible for her to see anything below her chest without going through a lot of gyrations.
    She stuck her leg out to the side and twisted to see if anything was amiss.  She was wearing black platform sandals, about four inches high with a four and a half inch heel added on. Her toenails were painted a bright electric pink and stood out like beacons.
    Ellen felt a sense of dejection overwhelm her, as it had many times in the past.  Bad enough I've got breasts bigger than a blimp; I'm also taller than most of the buildings around here, and I'm bright enough that you can see me comin' for miles.  She sighed and began moving slowly northward again, hoping to make it to the corner diner two blocks away before someone decided--
    Too late.  A gray car, a very nice looking gray car pulled to the side of the street.  Ellen waited a moment to see if the guy was here to visit someone -- but when she saw the passenger-side window roll down and the driver motion for her to come over, she knew what he really wanted.  What did I expect? she thought.  It's not like people come down to this part of the city for the ambiance . . . .
    She sauntered over, her wide hips swinging in a sexy rhythm as she put one foot in front of the other.  She leaned over and stuck her head in the window.  The john had to be getting a good look at her cleavage, and everyone else on the street was getting an excellent view of her ass sticking up.  Even without the platforms she stood just a hair over six feet tall.
    "How you doin'?" the guy asked.  Ellen could see he was some Izod-rich dude; probably had a wife and kids back in the 'burbs, and while he was supposed to be at a friend's, or doing a little office work, he was cruising for strange.
    "Not too bad, honey," she said, moving her head around so her hair would fall more naturally around her face.  "Whacha lookin' for?"
    He shrugged.  "Pussy.  You know where I can find some?"
    Ellen knew this guy wasn't the heat.  She never worried about that.  "You buyin'?"
    He nodded.  "You want to get in?"  Ellen opened the door and eased into the car.  Without further ado they were away and gone.
    It wasn't until they passed the diner that the john spoke up.  "I want a blow job," he said.  Ellen could see he wouldn't look at her.  Guilt, what the fuck else?  "Can you do that?"
    She nodded.  "Thirty five for the blow job.  You wanna do it in a room, you pay for that, too.  I know --"
    "I want you to do me in the car."
    Ellen could understand that.  It wasn't that guys were cheap; rather they seemed to get a thrill out of having their dicks sucked in a back alley somewhere, with the fear they might get caught before they dump their load.  She pointed to a vacant lot.  The guy pulled in and shut off the car.
    Money was exchanged.  The john took down his pants and underwear, then stopped when he saw Ellen reaching in her purse.  "I don't want you to use a rubber," he told her when he saw the condom in her hand.
    "Sorry, Sport."  She eyed his cock.  It wasn't that big, but Ellen figured she was gonna have most of it in her throat if she wasn't careful.  "I don't want to take your load in my mouth and find out a couple of months from now I have AIDS."
    "I don't have that shit," he whined.  "I'm clean."
    "You tell your wife that, too?"
    She thought for a moment the john was gonna hit her, but he just closed his eyes until the anger passed.  "Look, bitch, I just want a blow job, and I don't wanna have to wear a rain coat.  Is that such a big deal?"  Ellen was starting to unwrap the condom when he told her, "I wish you'd just suck my dick and let me cum."
    No one was more surprised than the john when this whore with huge tits leaned over, took his cock in her mouth, and without another word gave him the best blow job he'd ever received.  He felt his balls begin to swell as he put his hands on the back of her head, guiding her over his shaft, moaning as he humped his rod deeper into her mouth.  And when he came . . . he thought he'd died and went to heaven.  Jesus, this bitch can suck!
    And as Ellen milked the last of his semen out of his rapidly growing flaccid dick, the last of his load flowing down her throat like water, she thought, Christ!  All this shit because I stained a pair of panties . . . .

    When Ann Kolcheck was looking for a roommate, she had set her sights on someone honest, forthcoming, accountable --
    What she got instead was Ellen.
    But based on first impressions Ann didn't think ill of the girl who responded to her ad.  Ellen gave the appearance of being an active person; she had that lean figure which belayed a lot of activity, and maybe a little working out in the gym.  She had sensible, short black hair.  She dressed in jeans and tee shirt, looking like a comfortable preppy instead of some club-hopping wild child.  And she came across in the interview as being level-headed.
    In short, she seemed like the perfect roommate.
    The first crack in Ann's perceptions came when she caught Ellen masturbating on the sofa while watching one of those teen shows on the Frog Network.  Ellen didn't seem the least bit embarrassed that she'd been caught; she barely opened her eyes, looked up at Ann and said, "Don't mind me," and stuck two fingers inside herself.  Ann headed back to her room and remained there.
    On the third weekend Ann was awakened by someone making a lot of noise in the living room.  She found Ellen -- who hadn't been home when Ann had come back from a trip to the book store --barely covered by a dress zipped all the way down the front to her navel, vomiting on the carpet.  The stench of liquor in the air was enough for Ann to know Ellen wasn't ill, just drunk on her ass.  What really pissed off Ann was that Ellen made no move to clean things up the next morning.
    The next weekend was just as bad.  While Ellen wasn't puking this time, she brought home someone and they proceeded to fuck -- loudly -- on the kitchen table.  The next morning Ellen seemed to brush off any of Ann's concerns that she should at least be a little more circumspect in things of that nature.  "Oh, what do you care?" Ellen said over coffee.  "You stay in your room all the time, so why shouldn't I use the place for my own enjoyment.  Hell, next time you can come out and join in the fun."
    Ann could have lived with all of this; she wasn't that much of a prude, and Ellen wasn't doing anything except to herself.
    It was Ellen's habit of taking things which finally drove Ann over the edge.
    Ellen was always taking things of Ann's:  jewelry, shoes -- they happened to be the same size -- and underwear.  Always with the underwear.  It took Ann almost a month to realize why she was constantly running out of clean panties; Ellen was using them.  The first couple of times she didn't say anything, but when she happened to see a brand new pair of panties lying on Ellen's bed one morning, Ann decided enough was enough.
    "Would you kindly please stop taking my underwear?" she asked Ellen over breakfast.
    For her part Ellen didn't bother to look up.  She was suffering through another hard night.  "Why?  Is it bothering you?"
    "As a matter of fact, yes, it is!  You have your own, why don't you use it?"
    Ellen shrugged.  "I didn't think about it.  Besides, your stuff feels so nice.  I didn't think you'd mind."
    "Well, I do!  Please don't do it again."  Ellen grunted and returned to staring off into nothingness.
    Three days later Ann was going through her underwear drawer when she came across a rumpled pair of panties.  Ann never threw her panties into a drawer like this, so she knew Ellen had been in her things again.  Ann was about to just ignore this latest transgression, but something made her examine the panties . . . .
    The crotch was stained.  Very stained.  Ann could tell that Ellen had likely had sex with someone, and then put the panties back on just so she'd drip and stain them.  And then to put them back . . . Ann was outraged for the first time at Ellen's behavior.  It wasn't so much what she'd done -- it was the way her roommate had acted when confronted.  She simply didn't give a shit!
    Ann barged into Ellen's room.  "What the hell is this?" she screamed, throwing the panties on the bed.
    Ellen was putting on makeup, getting ready for work.  "Looks like your underwear."
    "You're damn right it is!  You wore these the other night, didn't you?"
    "No."  Ellen put down her blush and started working on her eyes.  "I wore them last night when I went over to fuck Paul."  Paul was the guy she'd had sex with on the kitchen table.
    Before Ann could register her anger, Ellen turned on her with equal fury.  "Look, you simple little bitch, get this straight.  I don't take orders from you or anyone else.  And I don't care if you don't like what I do; as long as I'm happy doing it, you can just kiss my ass."  She applied a little more eye liner, then continued, getting right in Ann's face.  Ellen wasn't very tall--only five-five--but Ann was only five-one, and Ellen was being very intimidating.
    "I like to enjoy myself.  If you can't understand that, then the hell with you!  You don't like me taking your panties?  What are you doing with them?  I don't see anyone beating down the door to fuck you.  All that shit you have in your drawer is going to waste."
 "How dare you--"
    "Oh, shut the fuck up, Ann!  Like you would know about having a good time!  All you do is sit in your room and read and that's it!"  Ellen stood there, hands on her hips, and began laughing.  Ann knew she was laughing at her.  "Look at me.  I'm the girl everyone wants to be with.  I'm the girl of their dreams. All you are is a nightmare."
    "You're a whore," Ann shot back.
    Ellen's response was to throw back her head and laugh even louder.  "That's what all girls say about the ones who gets the guys!"  She stepped back and continued putting on makeup, ignoring Ann.  "You just wish you could be like me.  Just like all the other girls who wish they could have the guys I get."  Ellen gave Ann a hard stare.  "Well, keep wishing, bitch, 'cause the only thing you'll ever get are the fingers on your right hand!"
    Ann left, Ellen's grating laughter ringing in her ears.  Once in her room she threw the panties in the trash and fought back tears.  But only for a second.
    No one had ever treated Ann the way Ellen had.  But Ann was a lot stronger than Ellen could imagine.  And if nothing else, Ann knew how to get back at people.
    Particularly girls like Ellen.
    "She wants other to wish they were like her," she hissed between clenched teeth.  "Maybe she'd like them to wish something else . . . ."

    Saturday night, and Ellen was ready for a little club hopping.  She had told Paul she'd met him around 11:30, which meant she had enough time to do a little dancing, have a few drinks -- and who knows?  Maybe find another "date" for the evening.  Paul was a good fuck, but he was getting old fast, and Ellen wasn't one who hung around for long.  If you can't keep me interested, she thought, then you ain't worth my time.
    Which was one of the reasons she was thinking of dumping Ann on her ass.  After their confrontation the other morning Ellen had kept her distance from the psycho, but she'd had her fill of the little bitch. Ellen was already looking for someone else with whom she could share digs.  She had come into this relationship with a few reservations, but figured Ann would fall in line and let Ellen do what the hell she pleased.  She had seemed like the dishrag type when they'd first met . . . .
    Ah, but all that was by the wayside, and Ellen felt it was time to just split and stick Annie baby with all the bills and shit.  Pissed off about our panties, are we?  I wonder if there's anyone in Europe I can call?  See how she likes paying for that phone bill?
    There was a knock at the door.  The door opened as Ann stood there dressed in a pair of black slacks and a blue blouse.  What the fuck is she doing here? Ellen wondered.
    "Hi, can I speak with you?"  Ann entered without waiting for a reply.  "I want to apologize for what I said the other day."
    Ellen's only visible reaction was to raise one eyebrow, but on the inside she was celebrating.  So who got put in who's place? she thought.  Maybe blowing out of here would have to wait; it looked like the little bitch was about to start sucking ass.  "That's okay, Ann."  Ellen was doing everything she could to make her false modesty seem real.  "I was being a bitch."
    Ann smiled as she held out her arms.  "Hug?" she asked, moving closer.
    Man, am I gonna fuck her over now! Ellen thought as she moved in for the embrace.  The second Ann had her arms around her, Ellen felt a brief dislocation, as if she were standing in her room, then suddenly she wasn't, and then was right back.  A very strange sensation, like being lightheaded and speeding down the road with the windows down and the radio blasting, and realizing you had no control over what was going on.
    Ann must have noticed something, because she instantly appeared concerned.  "Are you all right?" she asked.
    Ellen stepped back.  The feeling, whatever it was, had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.  "Yeah, sure.  Must have . . . I don't know."  She shook her head and took a cleansing breath.  "I'm fine."
    "Okay, great.  I was wondering . . ."  Ann was looking a little embarrassed.  "I was wondering if it would be okay if I went out with you tonight?  I mean . . . I really don't have anything to do."
    Now this was a first.  Almost five weeks living together, and little Annie never asked about anything her roommate was doing.  Now all of a sudden she was wanting to go out with her.  Ellen wondered for a moment if something was up, but immediately dismissed it.  Ann wasn't crafty enough to pull a trick which would cause Ellen harm -- and besides, Ellen thought it might cause her roommate a lot of discomfort to see how a "good" girl gets her way.  The white mini dress and pumps Ellen was wearing didn't make her look that hot, but compared to what Ann had on, she was decked out like a porno starlet.
    And people would notice.
    "Sure, get your stuff."  She gave Ann a small pat on the shoulder.  "I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself."

    Ellen was bored with the club.  9 PM, and the only guys worth noticing were a bunch of frat rats who were more interested in pawing than dancing.  She'd been out on the floor with a couple of guys, and you'd have swore the magnets in their hands were attracted to the ones in her ass.  She finally had to cut it short with the last guy, who spent half the dance trying to get his hand under her dress.
    "If you're gonna touch, you may as well pay," she told him.  "Get me a fuckin' drink."
    "I ain't buying you a drink."  She guy was pissed; she could sense he was the sort of college punk who jerked off to his girlfriend's picture all week, then came out clubbing trying to score with someone hot and loose.
    "Then blow!"
    The guy moved off the floor, but not before shooting "Fuckin' tease!" over his shoulder.
    Ellen was beginning to wonder if the bad luck in men she was having had anything to do with Ann tagging along.  But she blew that off.  The 'ol roommate had been sitting at the table nursing a Bloody Mary for the last hour, and had politely refused the one request made of her to dance.  But looking at her sitting there -- Ellen thought she looked like a rube little sister just in from the sticks, sophisticated big sister dragging her around in the off-hand chance she might get her laid.  It not only seemed a little depressing, but Ellen realized Ann was beginning to cramp her style.
    "Is there something wrong?" Ann asked as Ellen returned to her chair.
    Ellen wanted to snap, "Yeah, you, loser!" but thought better of it.  She ordered her third vodka and tonic, then said, "Naw, I'm just pissed off at all the jerks in this dump.  I would have thought some gentlemen would have put in an appearance by now."
    "Is that what you're looking for?" Ann asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.  "A real gentleman?"
    "What I'm looking for is a good fuck!"  Ellen expected Ann to be a little shocked, but when she noticed no change in expression, she figured the little twit didn't care about her roommate's activities.  "But there's nothing but a bunch of drunken assholes in here tonight."
    Ann said nothing, just turned her attention back to the Bloody Mary.  The expected uncomfortable moment of silence fell over the table like a ton of wet burlap, and Ellen expected Ann to start packing her shit in preparation of splitting.  To Ellen's surprise she leaned over and asked, "Would you like to follow me to the washroom.  I have something I'd like you to see."
    "Like what?"
    "Something you will like."  Her face lit up, a radiant smile cemented upon it.  She winked, stood and motioned for Ellen to follow.
    Now what's . . ?  Ann was getting very hard to figure out.  First she wanted to make up, then asked about tagging along.  Now she had something she's desperate to show?  Ellen thought that a little far fetched, but then . . .  She really didn't know that much about Ann, and who was to say what she was into?  Maybe Ann had a little coke she wanted to share.  Or . . . could there be any chance that Ann was maybe bi -- or better yet, gay -- and she was going to expose herself as a way of "trying to make up?"
    That would be too cool!  Ellen could just picture the scene:  Ann is all upset about being a bitch.  She turns, faces Ellen; opened her blouse to show her modest little B cups.  Asks Ellen to forgive her, and to please touch her.
    Right.  And then I'll piss all over her!  She couldn't wait.  She was out of her seat in a flash.
    Ellen was surprised to find the washroom empty except for Ann, who was standing in front of the sinks.  A slight grin appeared on her face when she saw Ellen enter.  Ellen took that as a sign that whatever she had to show, it was something she didn't want to share with anyone else.
    "So what do you want to show me?" Ellen asked.
    Nodding towards the mirror, Ann said, "Look there and you'll see."
    Ellen felt like knocking Ann across the room, but she reflexively turned towards the mirror, glancing at her reflection --
    When she tried to turn away, she found she couldn't.
    And then the reflection start to flow . . . .
    It was like watching one of those morphing programs, Ellen thought.  Her features were beginning to soften and flow around her face as if liquid.  She started wondering if Ann had somehow rigged up a video screen in here.  But that was impossible.  There hadn't been time . . . .
    Ellen touched her face.  The skin felt loose.  Not only could she see it moving, her fingers told her that it was.  She wasn't seeing some computerized morph animation.  No, this was happening.  To her.
    She wanted to pull away, to scream, but in that instant it was as if all the muscles in her body had turned to stone.  She could move her eyes, but that was it.
    All she could do was watch.
    Ellen's face was changing.  Whereas before she had always seemed attractive, it seemed -- well, almost as if she were becoming more beautiful.  She couldn't quite place what her face was becoming, but she'd swear if it kept going this way, she'd look like a cross between a young Cindi Crawford and an equally young Elizabeth Hurley.  Wasn't complaining -- who wouldn't want to be more attractive?  What she couldn't figure out is why.
    There was something else happening.  Her hair.  The black was starting to lighten, but not to blond.  It turned a Nicole Kidman-sort of red, then darkened a little.  That would have been okay, but it suddenly turned a very bright red -- almost the sort of red you'd see at a traffic light.  And then it started to grow --
    What the fuck?  Ellen watched in frozen enchantment as her hair grew out, becoming bigger, fuller -- and much longer.  Curling up and away from her head, then slowly making it's way over her neck and past her shoulders.  Ellen had never cared for long hair, but it looked as if she were getting it now.
    The top of her head was disappearing along the upper edge of the mirror.  Ellen didn't realize what was happening until she felt the slight pain in her feet.  It wasn't just her hair that was growing.  She was getting taller as well.  How much taller she couldn't guess, but with the pain in her feet and the way her dress was starting to tighten, she had to guess it was more than a couple of inches.
    Ellen didn't know why this was happening to her -- or how.  She couldn't say that she was displeased with the results.
    A voice at the door caught her attention.  "In a few minutes you'll grow some more; I'd say three double shots of vodka will stop the growth."
    As the door closed with a loud bump, Ellen found herself able to move.  She examined herself more closely.  Her face had changed a great deal; it was no longer her face, but she wasn't displeased with her new look.  God, men will love me.  She was also much taller.  The dress, which had been short to start with, barely covered her ass, and although her feet were sore -- the shoes had to be a couple of sizes smaller now -- she could see how great her long, supple legs looked in heels.  Just by looking around and comparing the way things had looked before the change and after, Ellen guessed she was probably about six feet tall without the heels.  Her ass and hips had also filled out, and she had a much more pronounced hourglass figure, the sort those old actresses used to have.
    Something was bothering her, though.  She didn't know just what it was, but . . . .
    It was then she noticed the tingling.  Coming from her breasts.
    Her breasts were growing.  Not very quickly, but they were growing.  Ellen had been a B cup all her life, and the lack of boobs she made up for by being very open and willing to please.  She learned at an early age that if you put out, guys didn't give a shit how big your breasts were.
    Right now Ellen thought she looked to be almost a D cup.  She felt them, noticing their weight in her hands.  She smiled.  I don't know why I was made to look like this, but if I thought I got sex before . . . A sudden wetness in her groin indicated Ellen's thoughts of using this new body for her pleasure was exactly what she wanted --
    Just then she realized something.  Her breasts were continuing to grow.
    If she hadn't had her hands on them she might not have noticed, as it seemed the dress wasn't getting as tight around the chest as it should, given what was happening.  But she could feel the flesh shifting slightly in her palms, and with a close examination in the mirror she confirmed it:  during the last couple of minutes during which she'd been playing with her new additions she'd passed a D cup and was working her way up to a DD.  Or maybe DDD.  She couldn't tell.  But she was getting bigger.
    And she felt a slight twinge of panic when it occurred to her that she didn't know when -- or if -- it was going to stop.
    She pressed hard on her breast, thinking that maybe she could hold back the growth with her hands.  Her now-erect nipples dug into the palms of her hands, and instead of moving outward Ellen's mammies decide to take the path of least resistance and started oozing upward and outward, flowing out of the neckline of her dress.  The dual mounds of soft, white flesh crept towards her like twin lovers seeking the comfort of her lips.
    "Stop.  Stop!"  Ellen was starting to lose it.  She let go of her breasts; they snapped out a little, arrested by the dress' material.  In the mirror it looked like she had a couple of large softballs under her outfit.  She was certain that within minutes those softballs would look like basketballs, and after that beach balls, and then bigger beach balls . . . .
    Jesus, I could be stuck in here!  Trapped in the can by my own tits!  She moved quickly to the door, already noticing how much more difficult it was to maneuver with these things on her chest.  She was back on the main floor of the club, but still shaky; the dress was finally starting to become a little uncomfortable, what with her sudden body "changes".  This was particularly true in her chest, with her still-growing breasts getting bigger by the second.
    Calm down, girl, Ellen thought.  She leaned her head against the wall.  How the fuck am I gonna stop this?  Or is it gonna stop all by itself?  And when?  When I'm filling up the fuckin' dance floor?  Shit, man . . . I could use a drink --
    A drink?
    There was that voice, just before she started with this "late blooming":
    "In a few minutes you'll grow some more; I'd say three double shots of vodka will stop the growth."
    Ann had said that.
    She had to have been the one.  There was no one else in the washroom when Ellen's strange change had started.  So who else would there be to say that?
    What's more, how did she know?
    Ellen didn't care.  She pushed off from the wall and almost fell backwards on her ass.  Her boobs were not only threatening to rip out of her dress, but they were once more ready to fall out of the scoop neck.  Looking down she figured in about three minutes her chin would be resting in her cleavage.  There was nothing but breasts and more breasts filling her vision.  She was getting ridiculously huge -- and left unchecked this would soon appear small compared to what she thought she might develop.
    She made a beeline for the bar, her breasts swaying back and forth in rhythm to the motion her much wider hips were making.  Ellen noticed that more than a few eyes were on her as she made her way through the crowd.  Christ, why not?  I look like I should making a porno movie with this body!
    Ellen threw a twenty on the bar.  "Three double shots of Finlandia!" she yelled at the bartender, pushing her chest out to make sure he noticed her.  The guy behind the bar did a double-take before lining up the shot glasses on the bar (which Ellen couldn't now see without leaning over or twisting to the side) and pouring the drinks.  Ellen waved away the change and downed the shots, one, two, three in rapid succession.
    She held her breath as the vodka hit her system like a mainline of high-grade crank.  She thought for a moment she was going to blow lunch -- she'd already had enough vodka to get her a little high before powering down these three -- but she fought off the urge, and was feeling better within seconds.
    She was also feeling a little constricted.
    Ellen didn't move for almost a minute, her eyes trained on the pronounced cleavage just under her chin.  The shots did the trick; her breasts had stopped growing.  Not that it matters now! she thought.  Ellen didn't know how big her breasts had become, but she knew she was bigger than anything she'd ever seen.  They seemed to stand almost a foot or more from her chest.  These ain't D cups . . . E?  F?  G's?!  Geeeeeeee.  Ellen reached up to touch her nipples.  They were erect, or as much so as the dress would allow.  She almost pissed herself; they felt as if they were as big as the shot glasses she'd just held.
    "Fuck.  Fuck!"  Ellen turned quickly to her right in exasperation and damn near knocked a guy off his stool.
    The guy was in his thirties--maybe.  Ellen couldn't tell with guys over a certain age.  He had a little bit of a gut, and his hair was starting to thin.  The way he was dressed she figured him to be out cruising for young stuff.  He gave her one look and his jaw damn near fell open.  "Did someone pour you into that dress, honey?" he asked once he got his wits about him.
    She wasn't in the mood to take shit, not now.  "Fuck you!" she screamed.
    The guy gave her a wistful leer.  "I wish you'd come home and do just that 'till I couldn't stand it no more."
    Ellen slid up to the guy, latched her arms around his neck, and rubbed her breasts against his check.  "Baby, my tits need sucking and I need fucking," she purred.  "Take me back to your place and stuff that big, thick cock inside me."
    The guy didn't need any more encouragement.  He threw his money on the bar, took Ellen by the hand, and led her to his car.  He had a big ass smile on his face as he moved through the crowd.  Other guys were eyeing him hard, wondering how he managed to get lucky with the huge breasted bimbo.
    Ellen was looking like she was in maximum heat, in need of cumming like no other woman in the history of the world had ever cum before.  At least that's how she looked on the outside--
    'Cause in her mind she was screaming, WHY THE FUCK AM I DOING THIS?!?

    It was three in the morning when Ellen made it home.
    She was still in a daze from what had happened.  She couldn't believe what she'd done!
    On the way to the guy's apartment she'd started playing with herself, throwing her panties out the window.  Once at this place she'd let him rip her dress off and start sucking on her super-sensitive nipples and tits.  Never mind that more than a mouthful was a waste -- there was plenty here to waste as far as her "date" was concerned, and he made the most of it.  After ten minutes of this Ellen couldn't take it any more.  Clad only in what was left of her ruined shoes she pushed the guy back on the couch and mounted him, her pussy dripping like a faucet.
    She fucked with the vigor of a rabbit; one orgasm after another assaulted her, driving her to thrust harder and deeper.  She smothered the guy in her tits as he valiantly tried to take one of her huge nipples into his mouth.
    He shot his load into her in under five minutes.  That wasn't enough for Ellen; she sucked him back into hardness for another go, then mounted him again, his cum mingling with her own lubrication for a wet and sloppy ride.
    He came three times before he had to beg her to stop.  He was so weak when Ellen left (now dressed in a sweat suit and wearing a pair of old sneakers) that he couldn't move himself off the couch.
    What bothered her the most was she had not been in control of her actions.
    Normally she would never look at a guy like this once, but after he had propositioned her, Ellen had no choice but to do as he'd asked.  All the while she'd been telling herself, Stop this!  Stop!  Stop!, she had fucked and sucked him like some demon was in control of her body.  It was only after she'd gotten into the cab she'd hailed that she could stop and review the last few hours.
    She'd been made to act that way.
    And it had dawned on her who had done this.
    She walked into the apartment, locking the door behind her.  The lights were off and the place dark.  Ellen was setting her purse down when the lights came on.
    Ann was sitting on the sofa.  "So, how was your evening?"  Ellen could hear the sarcasm dripping on every word.
    "You fucking bitch!"  Ellen moved a little too quickly and found herself being pulled off balance.  With all the weight she was now carrying on her chest, she was going to have to learn to move a little more carefully.  "What happened to me?"
    Ann's expression -- blank-faced and staring -- never wavered as she said, "I did."
    "What?"  Ellen wasn't sure if she were hearing things right.
    "I happened to you, stupid."  Ann got up, getting herself a glass of water.  "Ellen, Ellen . . . you should know a little about the people you are pissing off before you do piss them off."  She took a long sip, staring hard at her roommate the whole time.  "It would save you having to live with the consequences."
    "I don't --"
    "I'm a fucking witch, you idiot!"  Ann returned to her place on the sofa.  "I can do magic and I've cursed you because of the way you treated me."
    For a moment Ellen was about to consider that Ann was trippin' in a serious way -- But that wouldn't explain what's happened to me, would it? she thought.  While Ellen wasn't exactly a rocket scientist, she wasn't a bimbo, either.  And seeing what had happened to her made her believe Ann's statement all that much quicker.
    "Okay, okay, you cursed me," she said softly.  "I know I was being a bitch, and I shouldn't have been so shitty to you, but now I've learned my lesson."
    "So?"  Ann didn't seem as if she gave a shit.
    "So you can like fuckin' take it off now!"
    Ellen somehow knew what the answer was going to be even before the words left Ann's mouth.  "No.  I can't."
    "Why not?"
    "Because I used some heavy magic on you," Ann said softly.  She smirked as she checked out Ellen's huge bust line.  "I could take it off, but in doing so the effect would come back and curse me -- and be three times worse."  She shrugged.  "Personally, I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair because my breasts are too heavy for me to carry around."
    Although things were bad, Ellen felt she could live with this.  So I'll have these things for the rest of my life.  It could be worse --
    As if Ann were reading Ellen's mind, she said, "There's one other thing."
    Dejection starting eating away in the pit of Ellen's stomach.  "Huh?"
    Ann contemplated what she was going to say, then changed her mind, telling Ellen, "I wish you would come over her, spread my legs and lick my pussy until I tell you to stop."
    Ellen was about to brain the little bitch after that last remark -- What does she think I am?  A lezbo? -- but just like with the guy in the club she found herself moving against her will towards Ann.  Going on her knees, Ellen gently spread Ann's legs, and started running her tongue through her delicately radiant pussy.
    Ann waited until she came to orgasm before telling Ellen the rest.  Stroking her hair, Ann told her, "When you yelled at me that last time I was so angry that I had to get back at you.  But I had to do something that would teach you a lesson you'd remember for the rest of your life.  I remembered what you had said, that all the girls wished they could be you.  So I thought, 'Why not wish you to be anything I want you to be'?
    "You're cursed so that if anyone makes a wish about you in your presence, you have to act upon it.  Any wish.  Just like what you are doing now."  Ann smiled, gazing down upon the bright red hair sandwiched between her thighs.  "I know you would normally never do something like this, but if I were to fall asleep right now, you'd keep licking away.  Until I told you to stop.  You can stop now."
    Ellen rose to her feet, her face slick with the cum that had flowed from Ann's pussy.  The full horror of what Ann was telling her was starting to sink in as she continued.  "To be honest you aren't Ellen Starr anymore.  You look nothing like your IDs.  Not that the way you look is all that bad; I wanted people to notice you--and they will."  Ann got up and walked slowly around her stunned roommate.  "After all, it's very hard to miss a six foot-tall woman with bright red hair down to her ass and tits bigger than Lolo Ferrari's."  Ann stopped before Ellen and looked her right in the eyes.  "But you are not the girl you were before I changed you, and there is no way you could you go back to being that person, or convince someone you were the Ellen Starr they remembered.  You are now nothing more than a beautiful, living fuck toy that can be altered to suit anyone's wishes with but a word.  Welcome to the rest of your life."
    Ellen couldn't react, not even in anger.  She was fucked and she knew it.  The very fact that she'd just finished eating Ann's pussy -- eating another girl's pussy! -- told her more than words ever could that Ann wasn't bullshitting her.  She wanted to brain the little cunt, but knew it would do no good; the moment she'd slap Ann she'd wish her to stop . . . or be her slave . . . or--
    Could she even wish her dead?  Could anyone?
    Ann could tell that Ellen had accepted her fate, and wouldn't make any move against her.  Ann realized she might try to do something to her in the future, but for now she was so dejected that there was no way the big-titted bitch would even lift a finger against her.  May as well give her the last part of the curse, she thought.
    Ann pointed at Ellen and uttered the last incantation:

    The morph occurred so fast as to be unseen.  The sweat shirt changed into an off-the-shoulder black silk midriff top which laced up the front and showed an enormous amount of cleavage; the sweat pants turning into skin-tight black lyrca Capri pants which showed off the outline of her pussy; and the tennis shoes changed into lace up platform sneakers that could have been left over from a Spice Girls show.
    Ellen was taken completely unaware that the changes were happening, and fell over face first as she lost her balance.  Lying on the floor she took a good look at herself, realizing even more so that there was no way -- short of staying indoors for the rest of her life -- that she could lead a normal life.  If anything she wore turned into something like this, there was no way she could not draw attention to herself.  I always wanted people to notice me, she moaned, and now!  There's no way they can't see me!
    She could only think of one thing to say.  "Why are you doing this to me!?!" she screamed at Ann as she pushed herself to her knees.
    Presenting her with a withering glare of revenge, Ann told her coldly, "Because I don't like you.  Now, I wish you would spend from now until next evening masturbating in your room."
    Getting up, Ellen ran to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.  She ripped off her top and pulled her pants to her ankles, then threw herself on the bed and began running her long, shapely fingers along the lips of her pussy, feeling how puffy they were, as if she were in heat.  She found her clit and took it between thumb and forefinger; it was engorged with blood, as thick as a pencil and over an inch long.  Ellen ran her thumb over the top and came explosively, moaning loudly.  She tried to place the rest of her fingers inside herself as she continued to massage her clit.
    Her other hand found its way to the tops of the massive breasts, which were sitting like twin mounds of firm, willing flesh, with no indication of sway or sag.  Ellen found her shot glass-sized nipple, erect and hard, and began twisting it, pulling it, manipulating it for her maximum pleasure.  The orgasms erupted from her one after another, and though Ellen hated the fact she had no control over what she was doing to herself, the intense pleasure she gained almost outweighed the fear that this was only the beginning . . . .

    Within the week Ellen realized that everything Ann had told her was true, and not just some nightmare which she had trouble leaving.
    When Ellen had finished masturbating she got up, sore and tired, and began looking for something to change into.  She knew none of her outfits would fit, but she remembered a sweat shirt her last boyfriend had given her.  She thought she could put that and a skirt on, and then find out if there were any stores in the mall which had clothes that fit.
    She no sooner had the sweat shirt on when it turned into a form-fitting blue leather mini dress.  She crawled around on the floor of the closet (it was unbelievable how her breasts blocked her view of the floor now) until she found a pair of loafers and slipped them on; they turned into a pair of ankle boots with four and a half inch stiletto heels.
    It didn't take long to find out that even if a particular outfit wouldn't have fit her, the moment she tried getting it on it changed into some slutty outfit which made her -- as Ann had cursed her -- looking like either a stripper or whore.  Within five minutes Ellen had developed a wardrobe which would have made any porn star proud, all of which left nothing to the imagination.
    Ann held the whip hand over Ellen for the next few days.  Whenever Ellen was a little slow to do something, or looked as if she wanted to kill Ann for what she had done, Ann would make a wish and Ellen was changed.  Once she'd made her piss for an hour; another time she'd turned her mute and deaf for most of the day.  After one particularly odious glare Ann forced Ellen into her bedroom and wished her roommate had breasts big enough to cover the bed.  Ellen's already huge breasts started growing again, ripping out of her dress in about thirty seconds, and within two minutes were covering the bed, holding her in place better than any chains could.  "Let's see how you enjoy spending the night like that," Ann had said, leaving Ellen hungry and in need of going to the bathroom.  By morning she was begging to be released, and when Ann wished her back to her "normal" size, Ellen was eternally grateful, despite what had been done to her.
    Ann knew why.  "You know you are under my control, don't you?"
    Ellen nodded.  "Not only yours, but anyone who says the wrong things in front of me."
    Which was the way Ann had wanted it.  "You know what that means, don't you?"  Ellen shook her head.  "It means you had better learn to give anyone you meet what they want."
    Ellen felt like killing herself, but knew it was impossible; Ann had told her that not only would she never be able to harm herself, but that she would stay young and in her present condition for a very long time.  The misery is never going to end.  "So what do you want to do with me?" she asked, knowing this was leading somewhere.
    "I want you to start working again."  Since Ellen had been cursed, she had been unable to return to work.  Who would believe it was me anyway?  Ellen knew her old job was gone.
    But she couldn't do anything else.  Even if it wasn't for the fact that her clothes changed into something unsuited for work in most places, Ann had done something else to Ellen besides change her physically.  While Ellen had never been all that bright, she now found it difficult to read a simple story, comprehend most instructions, or even follow what was happening on TV.  In the words of an ex-boyfriend who was describing the woman of his dream, she was now sexy, slutty, and fairly simple.
    Ellen had become the perfect bimbo.
    And Ellen knew there were only a few places where a bimbo could ply her trade . . . .

    After blowing the john Ellen walked back to her "corner", trying to forget the taste of cum lingering her in mouth.  She had been hooking now for a month, and while she hated it, she found there was little she could do about it.  Ann had demanded she work, and it was either this or stripping.  Ann had told her she wasn't ready to be a stripper, and when Ellen had argued with her, Ann had wished she were the size of a Barbie doll.  Incredibly she'd become eight inches tall in about three minutes, and spent the next couple of days realizing that there was nothing which couldn't be wished about her that wouldn't come true.
    Ellen started hooking right after that.
    There had been a few close calls while she was out on the street.  One night some drunk guy has wished she were a "horny, sexy 'Rican bitch", and in seconds her skin was an even, dark brown tone, and she was speaking broken English like a Rosie Perez wannabe and needing to fuck like a rabbit in heat.  The john was so out of it that he didn't ever notice the change, other than to get extraordinarily turned on enough to cum inside Ellen twice before passing out, leaving her in her current form.
    Ann refused to change her back, and left her that way for almost four days; she liked her "cute little Esmerelda", and decided to have more fun with her.  A few nights later Ellen was forced into a PVC maid's outfit (which didn't change, so Ann must have used some magic to keep it that way) and was then "rented" out to a fraternity for them to use however they pleased.  Ellen ended up fucking and sucking over a hundred guys while at the fraternity, since "cleaning the cum out of their balls" had been part of her "job description", and she found it impossible not to offer herself to any man who showed up for the party they were having.
    Ellen was literally vomiting cum the next morning after Ann brought her home.  "How culd joo do dis to me?" she cried, sitting on the bathroom floor, still not back to her "old" self.  "Dis wus so embarisin'!  I wish I culd die!"
    "You did it to yourself, Ellen," Ann told her calmly.  "You told me once that you were the girl everyone wished they could be with.  Well, last night--you were!"  Later that day Ann wished her back to her current body, and sent her out to earn her pay.
    Two nights later a similar problem came up.  Ellen was on top of some nineteen year-old kid who thought he was king of the world because some big-titted whore was letting him cum in her.  Just as he shot his wad he mumbled, "Man, I wish we could fuck all night."  Ellen felt his cock go from limp to rock hard in the blink of an eye, and before she could react she was moving her hips up and down on his now-rigid member.  And they fucked, and fucked . . . and fucked.  Ellen was having orgasms every five minutes, so it wasn't that bad to her, but after two hours of Ellen pumping away, the kid was getting not only exhausted, but sore.  Even though he'd cum three times, his balls were turning to mush and his dick was getting raw, and he wanted to stop.  He pleaded to stop.  Ellen finally had to stuff a tit in his mouth to shut him up, since she knew they would be here fucking -- as he'd wished -- all night long.
    When they stopped at dawn, the kid just moaned and passed out.  Ellen was dripping with his cum and blood; his cock looked like someone had jerked him off with sandpaper, and his balls had sunk into his body and disappeared.  Ellen got dressed and stumbled out of the room bowlegged before he woke up and made some other silly-ass wish.  She was painfully raw, and very thankful he hadn't been fucking her in the ass when he made his wish.
    The depressing part was she knew it was only a mater of time before someone did make a wish like that.  She was nothing more than the fuck doll Ann had made her -- one without a will of her own -- and eventually someone would wish something of her which would screw her life even more than it was screwed now.  Perhaps turn her into a real fuck doll, one made out of latex which had to be blown up, one which couldn't move, one with a vibrating pussy, ass, and mouth, all just waiting for a juicy cock to fill them--
    "Hey, Ellen.  How's business?"
    Ellen snapped out of her train of thought.  Candi ("With an 'I'" she'd been told the first night they met.  Of course) was leaning inside a doorway, eyeing her carefully.  Ellen thought the short blond with the wide hips and bubble butt was one of those lesbians who fucked men to make ends meet, but could only get off with another woman, since Candi was always staring at her with unmasked lust whenever they met on the streets.  Ellen didn't mind it, though, as the girl was the closest thing she had to a "streetwalking friend", and they often chatted for hours when things were slow.
    "Not too bad," she replied, shrugging.  "Just got done blowing some guy."
    Candi made a face like she'd just swallowed something sour.  "God, that's one thing I never do," she said.  "I refuse to put a guy's dick in my mouth.  I don't know how you do it."
    "I sorta didn't have a choice," Ellen replied, not exactly lying about the incident.
    Candi slid up next to Ellen.  The girl, while tall in her own set of heels, only came up to Ellen's shoulders.  She touched Ellen lightly on the shoulder.  "I could think of something else I'd like to have in my mouth," she whispered, eyeing Ellen's formable cleavage.  "Tall women turn me on, and I would love to show you how good I am at making women cum."
    Up to now Ellen had never had a woman come on to her, and she was feeling a little creeped out by Candi's action.  "I'm sure you're very good at making love," Ellen quipped.
    Candi could see where this was leading.  "But?"
    "But, I'm not into girls."  Ellen was trying to be very diplomatic, as she knew if she said things in the wrong fashion, Candi might start wishing for things to be different.  And the last thing I want is to become some dumb blonde's lesbian pet.  "I've never been comfortable with other women, and I don't think I would enjoy getting -- intimate with you."
    She didn't know how Candi was going to take this, but Ellen was very relieved when the hooker patted her on the shoulder and told her, "That's okay.  Some women are like that.  I can dig it."
    A big sigh of relief.  "Really?"
    "Yeah," Candi said nodding.  She moved over to her side of the doorway, staring out into space.  "No big deal."
    In a way Ellen felt a little bad.  "I hope I didn't upset you," she said.  "I consider you a friend."
    Candi smiled.  "I like you, too," she said.  "I only wish we were both thirteen again, so I could seduce you and show you how good I could make you feel."
    They both started changing immediately.  Ellen couldn't tell what was happening to her, but watching Candi gave her a good idea.
    Candi start growing smaller all over.  Her ass and hips began to pull inward as her waist began to disappear.  Her breasts vanished, going from a D cup to something a little smaller than a B cup in about twenty seconds.  She was also losing a lot of height; Candi was maybe 5' 6" in her bare feet, but in becoming younger she was shrinking like Alice in Wonderland, and Ellen figured she was maybe  4' 8" when she stopped.
    But while she grew younger, Ellen could see she was also growing more beautiful -- or maybe "cute" was a better word.  Her skin took on a livelier glow, her hair became lighter and longer, framing her face with straight rows of sun-drenched blonde hair.  Her nose turned up as her face lost some of the hardness which life on the street often brings.
    Candi's clothes remained the same size, however, and by the time the wish had run its course none of her things fit her any longer.  Her skirt was falling off her small hips, she was swimming in her gold blouse and black jacket, and her four inch heels were far too large for her tiny feet.
    In other words, she looked like a small, thirteen year-old girl dressing up like a hooker.
    "What . . . what happened to me?"  Her voice was now a young girl's child-like squeak, and her eye showed a lot of confusion and a little bit of terror.  "What happened to you?"
    Ellen didn't care.  As far as she was concerned, Candi looked cute as hell.  And she was getting wet just looking at her, thinking about her tongue running through her pussy, curling up around her clit, tasting all the yummy cum she would produce --
    "It's all right, Candi," Ellen cooed, taking her in her arms to comfort the frightened girl.  Ellen could see that she'd shrunk a little, but she was still maybe 5' 4" or 5", and therefore towered over Candi.  She couldn't imagine what she now looked like, but she could see that her clothes still fit well -- great, I'm a teenage hooker, just like Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver -- and her breasts had remained much the same size.  She was not only younger, but had to look even bigger than before.
    "Lets go back to your place."  Although she didn't want to feel this way, Ellen couldn't wait to get naked under the sheets with this younger version of Candi.  "I want you to show me how you make girls cum.  I'll let you do anything to me you want."
Candi's fear instantly vanished.  "You mean that?" she asked.  Ellen could smell her musk as she orgasmed.
    "Sure I do."  Ellen led her off towards the other girl's apartment, wondering how long they'd remain like this -- or if Candi would, or could ever change them back.  "After all, sometimes you get what you wish for . . . ."

THE END
 

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