﻿Big Butt Slut

by PanWhoWrites



Category: Mind Control
Published: 2023-03-09
Updated: 2023-03-09
Packaged: 2024-02-16 20:26:51
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,650
Publisher: literotica.com
Story URL: https://www.literotica.com/s/big-butt-slut
Author URL: https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=4248571&page=submissions
Summary: Molly's new tattoo transforms her mind, body, and life.
Erotica Tags: Bimbo, Bimbofication, Mind Control, Tattoo
Average Rating: 4.6





	Big Butt Slut

Chapter 1:

She'd been talking about doing it for a long time. Any time the conversation came up at a party, Molly would join in, talking about where she was going to do it, even the guy that she'd picked out. But it was one of those things that she never really thought would ever happen.

Until last night.

She'd had a few drinks and been on her way home, when she'd passed a small, dingy shop with a sign on the window: "Bubba's Late Night Specials"

"Screw it," had Molly thought to herself. It was time to stop dreaming about the day when she finally summoned up the courage to take a risk like that. It was time to stop pretending that she was just waiting for the perfect guy to do it at the perfect time in the perfect place. It was time to go for it.

And so last night, Molly had gotten a tattoo.

She had awoken with two pains - one in her head, from the drinks, and one on the small of her back, just above her arse. Within a few seconds, everything had come flooding back to her - the neon "tattoo" sign that had lured her in, the brief explanation of the tattoo that she'd been planning of for half her life, and the pain of getting the tattoo applied.

The tattoo "artist", if one was feeling generous enough to call him that, had been called Bubba, and he put one more in mind of a gorilla than someone to be trusted with a needle and the ability to permanently mark one's skin. He was short and hairy, but he'd seemed to perfectly understand her description of what she wanted for the tattoo, and had set to work on it immediately.

Molly worked in graphic design, which had been an obsession of hers for years, and she'd wanted a tattoo to celebrate her passion. It had started as a discussion when she was a teenager - "What tattoo would you get to sum you up?" - Molly had thought about it for months, and when she'd found the answer she knew she had to make it a reality. She had to have it.

When Milton Glaser designed the "I Love New York" logo in 1977, ten years before Molly's birth, he'd only expected it to be used for a few months. He could never have foreseen the design becoming an internationally-recognised symbol for New York, and he would never have guessed that anyone would use it as the basis of a tattoo.

But Molly did love New York - she'd moved there as soon as she'd finished high-school. She'd studied there, she worked there, she'd lived there for years. New York was where she'd met her boyfriend, John, and when John inevitably proposed, New York was where she wanted to get married.

She didn't want to get the entire logo, just the distinctive love heart. To anyone who didn't understand graphic design, it would just look like Molly's tattoo was celebrating love, and that was fine with her too. It was ideal - to the untrained eye, it represented love, but to her it was a tribute to the city she lived in, and the field she worked in. It was the perfect tattoo.

Unfortunately, it wasn't what Bubba had given her.

Molly had a glass of water and some aspirin before she thought to check out her new ink in the mirror; she lifted her shirt, swivelled to get a good view, and dropped the glass in shock when she saw her new tattoo.

It was printed in a font that wasn't easy to read in the mirror, designed to look like spray-painted graffiti, but after a few seconds of squinting, Molly saw what her new "tramp stamp" read.

"Big Butt Slut"

Molly's apartment was suddenly a flurry of activity as she grabbed her bag and her keys, got dressed (her headache forgotten, flushed away by her fury) and left. She was going to find "Bubba", and she was going to give him a piece of her mind. How dare he? How dare he deface her body like this?

It was...well, it was definitely illegal, she knew that. It was a breach of contract, false advertising...libel! Bubba wouldn't know what hit him.

As Molly stormed down the street, retracing her steps from last night, she attracted more than a few glances. She was an attractive woman - standing just over five feet, she had generous curves and a face that was impossible to ignore. When she smiled, she could light up a room, but even with her face in a scowl and her eyes shooting daggers, she was still attractive, in a dangerous kind of way. Dressed up, she could stop traffic, but even with her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing whatever casual clothes had been closest as she'd stormed out of her apartment, guys noticed her. Hell, girls noticed her.

After half an hour of stomping around New York, trying to recall where her and the girls had stopped for a drink and how she'd found her way home from there, Molly found the place. It was simply called "Bubba's", but when she entered, the gorilla-like man of the previous night wasn't there. A tall, well-dressed man man with glasses smiled at her as she entered.

"Hello! Welcome to Bubba's. My name is Mitchell - how can I help you today?"

Molly stared at his glasses. There was something slightly strange about them - the glass was slightly too thin, or too thick. Light didn't reflect off them the way that it should. When she stared at his glasses, it looked...it almost looked like she could see rain behind them.

Mitchell didn't say a word as the busty young lady entered his shop and stared at him. He knew that she would speak when she was ready, and that whatever problem she had, he would be able to solve it.

After staring at the rain for a few minutes, Molly remembered why she was here. It was odd...she wasn't angry any more. It was if all her anger had simply been washed away.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she started apologetically. "I was here last night, and the man..."

"Ah yes, you must be one of Bubba's late-night specials. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was here to get a tattoo of a love-heart, and...instead, he gave me this."

Molly turned around, and pulled up her shirt. To make sure that he could see the results of Bubba's work, she wiggled slightly and lowered her pants as well. Not a lot, just so that the top of her crack was showing. She wanted to make sure that he could read what that fool of a man had done to her.

"Big...butt...slut." Mitchell read the tattoo slowly, letting each word roll around his mouth before continuing onto the next one. His words seemed to echo around the small shop, bouncing off the walls until they settled firmly into Molly's head.

"What seems to be the problem?" he continued.

Molly turned around sharply, prepared to snap back and tell the man exactly what the problem was, but before she could, she caught a glimpse of his glasses again. Her entire body went slack, and when she remembered what she was saying, she noticed some drool had dried on the side of her mouth. How long had she been standing there?

"Well," Molly replied, suddenly demure once more. "You must see...that's not what I was after. I wanted the heart from the New York logo. The one that...if you put it upside-down, it looks a bit like a butt."

Why had she described it like that? Everyone knew what the logo looked like. Before she could apologise for her strange choice of words, Mitchell had replied, and she found herself staring at his glasses once more as he did.

"And that's how you put it to Bubba."

Molly couldn't remember, but she supposed that made sense. She'd been drunk, and it had probably seemed like the most obvious way to describe the symbol. She nodded, wondering how the man's glasses seemed to reflect the bright, glaring sun, even though it was overcast outside.

"Well, that's probably the problem. Bubba is an amazing artist, but he sometimes gets confused about words. When you told him it looked like a butt, he must have thought you wanted it to say the word 'butt'."

That didn't seem to make much sense to Molly, but she nodded along, not wanting to be rude and interrupt. Mitchell continued.

"And you probably told him that you wanted a large tattoo, a big heart that took up half of your back. Is that right?"

Molly's dream tattoo was about the size of a quarter, so that it could easily be hidden in the workplace. The tattoo was for her and anyone she wanted to share it with, not for the world to see. She started to disagree, but Mitchell kept talking before she could.

"We have a unique pricing system here - we price based not on size, but on design. Bubba would probably have mentioned that, maybe he would have convinced you to get a big one."

That made a lot of sense. Molly wasn't a scrooge, but she didn't make a huge amount of money, and she knew a bargain when she saw it. Once Bubba explained the pricing scheme, of course she would have wanted a big tattoo. Why wouldn't she?

"So when you said 'big', Bubba probably added that to the tattoo."

Molly nodded once more. Poor Bubba, she must have really confused him, saying 'big' and 'butt' like that, over and over again. That explained the...wait, no.

"Then why does it say 'slut'?" she asked, frowning slightly.

The man lowered his glasses, and Molly had to take a step backwards when the full force of his gaze hit her. It wasn't the glasses reflecting light, it was the man's eyes - it was as if there was a storm inside his head, and his eyes were windows, protecting the world from the rain and the lighting and the thunder...

After what could have been seconds or years, the man spoke.

"What were you wearing when you visited?"

Molly felt her cheeks burn up as she realised what he was saying. She thought she'd been dressed quite conservatively, having just gone out with some friends from work, but now she remembered - she'd been wearing a miniskirt that she didn't even realise she owned, no bra...her tits had probably been on the verge of falling out the entire time she'd been talking to Bubba.

She'd been dressed like a complete slut. She'd probably been coming onto him, begging him for sex, trying to show off her tight little arse, her big round tits. She'd probably been boasting about how much cock she could take down her throat, and how many guys she'd slept with. She'd probably told him about her earlier conquest, the guy she'd blown in the bar that night...

It was all coming flooding back to her. It had been her turn to buy a round of drinks, and she'd been standing at the bar, considering lifting up her shirt just to attract the bartender's attention. There had been a guy standing next to her, checking her out.

After a few drinks, Molly didn't just find it hard to say no, she found it hard to resist sucking every cock within a few feet of her. She'd grabbed the man's tie, dragged him into the men's bathroom, and practically ripped his pants off.

When she'd emerged a few minutes later and sat back down with her friends, her lipstick smeared, they hadn't said anything. Molly's friends knew that she was incapable of going out for a few drinks without forgetting she had a boyfriend and gobbling down at least one cock for each bar they went to. They'd just laughed, and reminded her that it was still her turn to get drinks.

Fortunately, that time there hadn't been anyone else waiting to be served.

No wonder Bubba's tattoo had contained the word 'slut' - it had probably been every second word out of Molly's mouth.

Mitchell raised his glasses again, and Molly felt like she'd just escaped a cyclone, and come inside to a calm, secure building. What had they been talking about?

"Now, I understand that you're not happy with the tattoo you got..." Mitchell continued, as Molly caught up with the conversation. They'd been saying something about her tattoo. "So of course, I'll issue you a complete refund.

"The register is empty at the moment, but if you come back in - oh, let's say two week's time - I'll be able to give you the cash then."

"Thank you," Molly replied, slightly dazed. She felt as though she'd just won, but she wasn't quite sure what, or how. She started to leave, but turned back as soon as the man resumed speaking.

"And besides," the man replied, "now that you've got a new tattoo, you may as well enjoy it."

He lowered his glasses once more, and looked Molly straight in the eyes.

"Embrace it."

Chapter 2:

Molly decided not to mention the tattoo to her boyfriend, John. She felt as though he wouldn't understand that it had been a simple mistake on the artist's half. It was something she didn't fully understand herself, actually, but there was no sense in making a big deal out of something that no one was to blame for. After all, she'd gotten her money back, and a free tattoo as well.

It wasn't the tattoo she'd always wanted, but Molly prided herself on being able to make the most out of any bad situation. She stood in the mirror and looked at the new addition to her skin for the umpteenth time.

It was...well, it was crisp, that was for sure. The words practically jumped out at you; it was as if they burned themselves into your brain. Even as Molly stared into the mirror, she caught herself mouthing them over and over again - "Big butt slut, big butt slut..."

Its colours complemented her own - it seemed to bring out the pink in her lips, the red in her cheeks. It emphasised her rich brown eyes, and when she grinned, it somehow seemed to make her teeth appear more white.

Of course, the wording of the tattoo brought undue attention to her ass - Molly knew that she had a great body with many strengths, but her behind was not one of them. Her breasts ensured that men rarely looked at her face while talking to her, and the miniskirt that she'd worn last night (but, strangely, been unable to find that morning) showed off her long, toned legs, but Molly's butt was nothing to write home about.

She shook her head - she was trying to focus on the upside of the situation. Like the size of the tattoo - it was perfect. Large enough that it was easily readable, even if one was standing halfway across the room. Of course, that was going to make it that much more difficult to cover up - Molly definitely didn't want anyone at her work to see it.

Molly shut her eyes, and breathed heavily. Positive. Think positive. When she closed her eyes, she felt like she could feel rain, washing away all her negative thoughts, cleansing her of all of her worries and doubts about the new tattoo.

If she had to cover up the tattoo, she wouldn't be able to wear her usual combination of jeans and a shirt - any time she bent over, she risked showing off even a hint of her back, and as soon as anyone saw that she had a tattoo, they'd want to read what it said.

But she could easily find the positive in this - she had a handful of dresses in her closet that she never wore. John loved them, but she'd always felt that they were unprofessional - this was a perfect opportunity to bring them out, start wearing something a little more light, a bit more 'fun' to work.

Molly opened her eyes with a big smile on her face, and checked herself out in the mirror once more. Yes, if she wore dresses, she'd be able to hide the tattoo (almost a pity - it somehow set off her hair, making it seem longer, thicker...) and show off her legs at the same time. It was a win-win situation.

The man with the glasses would be so proud.

###

The weekend flew past. On her usual Saturday night date with John, Molly managed to avoid bringing up the tattoo. It came close when he noticed her wince in pain as she sat down, but she simply claimed that she'd fallen over and injured herself last night, while out drinking with the girls. This also served as an excuse not to go home with him (as she normally would.) She knew that if she ended up back at his apartment, there was no way she'd be able to resist his advances, and she'd inevitably end up disrobing and showing him the tattoo.

Sunday, Molly found herself antsy, pacing the apartment. She saw John more than once a week, but Saturday was typically the only night she was able to stay over, and without her weekly release, she was filled with an unexpected energy. While walking to let off some steam, she passed a gym just a block away, and joined on a whim - it would be a great way to get rid of her energy. And besides, if she was going to start wearing dresses to work, she wanted to make sure her legs looked their best...

Reactions around the office on Monday morning when Molly turned up wearing a dress were mixed. The men said nothing, but provided a steady supply of appreciative looks, and the women complimented her and asked where she'd bought it from (except a rare jealous few who simply glared at her as she walked past.)

The male attention did nothing but increase her restlessness, and by the end of the day Molly was going out of her way to show off her assets. When Ben from accounting checked her out as she leaned over the photocopier, she made a point of pulling out some paper from the bottom tray, just to make sure that he got the best possible view. When she noticed the new intern, Luke, peeking down her top, she started toying with her necklace, dipping it in and out of her plentiful cleavage, just to watch the embarrassed look on her face.

The more Molly tempted the men, the wetter she got. By the time work finished, she was seriously considering calling John that night and seeing if he was able to come around and scratch her itch, but when she remembered that she had to keep her tattoo a secret, that plan went out the window. Instead, she made another visit to her gym, conveniently open twenty-four hours a day.

This late at night, the gym was full of men. The population of Molly's neighbourhood was predominantly black, and this was reflected in the gym - as she ran on the treadmill, Molly was acutely aware of the big black men behind her, lifting weights and bulking up.

She wondered if they were checking her out. If so, it would be a disappointing view. Molly had dressed in typical gym clothes: sweatpants, an old college top with stains on it. They couldn't even see her legs that she was working so hard to tone up...but on the plus side, the pants were so baggy, they'd have to imagine what her ass looked like, and anything they could dream would be more appealing than reality.

Molly ran for hours longer than she'd intended to, until the last man left from behind her, and there was no one left to watch her as they worked out. Next time, she mused, she would have to wear something a bit more fun to watch - perhaps some skin-tight pants, a shorter top...maybe something that showed off her tattoo.

The tattoo dominated her dreams that night - she imagined herself stripped naked, bent over a weight machine while all the men at her gym came up and inspected her tattoo, one after another. Each man stroked the tattoo, tracing the words with their fingers from top to bottom, until their hand reached her ass - at that point, they spanked her, punishing her for being such a slut.

As she felt each hand connect with her ass, it grew. Smack by smack, her ass grew larger, rounder, bouncier...by the time all the men in the gym had had their turn, it was a perfect specimen, a large, round, heart-shaped beauty. In her dream, Molly collapsed onto the machine, her ass throbbing, proud of her magnificent behind, proud of the tattoo that announced to the world what she was, her purpose in life.

Molly woke up in the middle of the night to a tremendous wetness between her legs. Molly had never masturbated before - she'd been in relationships since puberty had hit, and had always had a guy on hand when she needed one. That night, for the first time, she pleasured herself before drifting off to sleep once more.

The next day, Molly wore another dress to work. This one was longer, reaching her knees, but made up for that with the amount of cleavage it revealed - feeling mischievous, she decided to forego a bra as well...a decision she quickly regretted. Molly spent most of the day trying to hide her ever-erect nipples, and making sure that she didn't lean over too far and expose an entire breast.  


It was difficult to resist the temptation, however - on an average work-day, Molly would get maybe two, three people coming by her office to request an update on whatever images she was working on, or to see if she could help out with a new project that was being launched. Today, however, she barely got anything done - she was too busy accommodating the non-stop rush of people who needed help with the simplest tasks.

Ben from accounting stopped by on three separate occasions, just to ask Molly's advice on which font he should use on the quarterly budget. By the second visit, she was starting to suspect that her expertise wasn't really what he was after...and once the idea of exposing a breast to him came into her head, making it worth the trip all the way over the other side of the office just to see her, it was hard to get rid of.

She managed to work the thought out of her mind with a series of internal compromises - when Luke, the intern, came by to see if she needed to borrow a pen, she made a point of admiring his tie, leaning forward to inspect it until her breasts were right on the verge of popping out. When her boss came by to make sure she was on-target for the new website launch next week, she spent half an hour discussing his newborn child - specifically, the details of his wife's breastfeeding.

Molly tried to make sure that every man who left her area would be thinking about her generous curves for the rest of the day...the visible erections that they sported as they left was a good indication that she was doing well. She talked abstractly about sex and breasts in every way she could, and had never been so happy to go a whole day without a single male making eye contact with her.

Five o'clock came and went; somehow, Molly had talked Luke into letting her show him the ins and outs of InDesign, but the conversation kept changing subject and so far all she'd managed to do was open the program up and teach him how to turn off 'hyphenate'. She'd been learning a lot about Luke, as he willingly mumbled answers to her questions, staring at her cleavage all the while. He was 19, had just finished high-school, and was currently single.

Inevitably, the conversation had turned from this to sex, and Molly found herself growing increasingly wet as details of Luke's inexperience tumbled from his mouth. He told her of the first awkward fumblings he'd had in the back seat of his Dad's car, the first time he'd undone a bra, the first time he'd seen a girl topless, the first time he'd sucked on a nipple...Molly was fidgeting in her chair and losing track of the conversation as the images flashed through her mind of being on the receiving end of all of Luke's administrations.

She was remembering her own teenage years, what a young harlot she'd been. Her boobs had grown in early, and she hadn't been shy about using them to get what she wanted. As a teenager, she'd had a type - tall, thin boys with glasses, who would seduce her with their words and their eyes, who would convince her to do naughty things far beyond what she'd intended, who would be fucking her on the first date, if not within a few minutes of when she got in the car...

Luke was still talking, and his words suddenly brought her back to reality.

"What!?" she cried loudly. Fortunately by this point, it was getting close to six, and the office had long been emptied.

"I just said that I've never...y'know, done that with a girl."

"Never??"

"No...no girl has wanted to."

For some reason that she couldn't quite explain, the fact that Luke had never put his cock between a girl's tits before was doing all sorts of things to Molly's brain. She forgot the fact that she'd only done it herself once or twice (and never even particularly liked it) - in her head, it was an unforgivable travesty, and one that she wanted - no, needed - to fix.

Her pussy was dripping at the idea.

Luke, too, was mostly thinking with his genitals at this point. He had no idea why the usually friendly-but-professional graphic design girl had arrived at work in rocking outfits for the last two days, and spent most of today talking with him about boobs, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Her shock and seeming outrage when he'd mentioned titty-fucking had caused him to worry that he'd stepped over the line, but her next actions just solidified his decision not to mess with a good thing...

Molly leaned forward, until her face was only a few inches from Luke's. For the first time in the last few hours, he tore his eyes away from her magnificent bosom (even though her pose gave him a good chance of seeing one of her nipples) and looked her in the eye. She looked concerned.

"Luke," she said simply. "would you like to try it with me?"

Chapter 3:

After work, Molly went straight to the bedroom and brought herself off.

The subway ride home had been an interesting one; she'd felt like every man on the train was staring at her, as if they all knew exactly what she'd done, what a naughty girl she was. It had fuelled her fantasies (even as she knew it was all in her head) and by the time she got home, she'd reached a peak level of excitement.

Laying on her bed, Molly remembered the look on Luke's face as she'd disrobed (she had been careful to only slip out of the top of her dress. She didn't want Luke to see her tattoo and start thinking she was unprofessional.) and the look of excitement as he realised that his fantasies were coming true, that the sex goddess in front of him was going to let him titty-fuck her, let him come all over her face.

All over her face...Molly sat up abruptly, and one hand shot to her face in realisation. That's why she'd had so much attention on the way home - immediately after his orgasm, Luke had gotten flustered and before Molly could make a move, he'd practically run out of the office. She'd been left alone in her office, face covered in cum. Thoroughly dissatisfied, she'd redressed and left without stopping to look at herself in a mirror, without cleaning herself up...

No wonder she'd received so many stares on the subway.

For some reason, the knowledge that everyone on her train knew what a slut she was stoked Molly's passion, and she continued playing with herself, imagining all the men from her train going home and doing the same. She pictured all the men from work playing with themselves while thinking about her breasts, her cleavage, imagining lifting up her skirt and plunging their hard cocks deep within her pussy, grabbing her boobs and fucking her ass...

Molly arched her back as she came, images of strangers and friends taking her from behind filling her mind. She lay on her bed panting, her mind blissfully blank, and it was several minutes later that she realised what she'd been thinking about.

That was new. She'd never had such a strong fantasy play out in her head, and she'd certainly never had any desire to try anal sex before. A few of her boyfriends had asked, but a combination of self-consciousness about the size of her butt and general ickiness about the idea had caused her to say no.

But as she'd played with herself, she knew what it was that had really pushed her over the edge. The idea of letting someone enter her back door was suddenly strangely exciting. Perhaps this Saturday, she'd let John...but of course, that meant (even more than other positions) that he would see her tattoo, which she was sure he wouldn't appreciate the same way she did.

Molly removed her clothes, and walked over to her full-length mirror to admire her tattoo once more. It was really starting to grow on her. She hadn't been sure if she liked it at first, but the longer she looked at it, the more she appreciated the artistry - the smooth, neat lines, the vibrant colours...she was almost disappointed that it was the sort of thing that she had to keep secret. If John saw it, he'd be furious and confused, and showing it off at work would kill any chance she had at being taken seriously around the office...it was a real pity.

She was about to change into her gym clothes and head off for a work-out when she noticed something else in the mirror. Her ass had...it seemed to have grown, somehow. It was fuller, rounder. She turned to the side, and could see it jutting out, as if a perfect semicircle had started to form at the top of her legs.

The change must have been the result of her new work-out routine, Molly realised, (the new routine being, of course, working out at all) but she was amazed that it was paying off so quickly. She stroked it, enjoying the feel, the firmness. Her ass was a third bigger than it had been a week ago, and it felt sensational to the touch.

Molly stared at the mirror for a few more minutes, checking herself out, before she shook her head, cleaned herself off and left for the gym. Tonight, at least, the guys would have a slightly better view to stare at.

###

The weekend came all too quickly for Molly. The rest of her work week had followed the same pattern as Monday and Tuesday - each day, she'd gone into work, wearing more and more outrageous outfits. There hadn't been any objections - the closest she'd come was on Friday, when her boss had asked her into his office, but before he could properly start she'd distracted him.

"What do you think of this dress?" she'd asked, and done a little twirl to show it off. The dress was so short that a twirl was all that was needed to display her panties (and her new, magnificent ass) and Molly's boss had been tongue-tied for the rest of their meeting.

Her nodding probably hadn't helped - every time her boss said anything, she'd agreed vigorously, causing her breasts to noticeably jiggle. At first she'd just been showing how much she agreed with everything her boss said (he'd been so _right_ about everything lately) - the jiggling side-effects were just an added bonus.

She hadn't worn a bra all week - on Wednesday, her dress had been much less low-cut than the one she'd worn the day before ("and if I got away with _that_ dress without a bra..." she'd reasoned) but Molly was starting to realise that she just didn't need one.

Luke had started staying late at work with her every night. At first she'd felt guilty, like she was cheating on John, but she'd soon realised that she wasn't technically cheating. She never had sex with him - he never even saw her naked below the waist. It wasn't cheating, it was just two attractive young people enjoying her boobs. And after all, who has the rights to stop a woman enjoying her own boobs, and inviting a friend to do the same?

She wasn't a slut, she told herself, even as she unknowingly mouthed the word to herself. Slut. Slut. Big butt slut.

She was having no trouble sticking to her workout program, and it was yielding amazing results. All she did was run on the treadmill for a few hours each night, but so far it had caused her to lose weight, feel full of energy all the time, increase her sex drive, and (somehow) double the size of her ass. If Molly had tried to wear a bra, she would have noticed that her breasts had been growing as well - she'd already spotted that they were perkier and bouncier than they'd ever been before, and sat on her chest proudly, without needing support of any kind.

Of course, some of the changes that her workout had provided were a bit inconvenient. Her new-found energy meant that whenever she wasn't at work or working out, she just bounced around her apartment, restless and uneasy. She'd found that cleaning kept her mind and body occupied, but after a few hours she'd scrubbed every surface until her entire apartment gleamed. The idea of going around to John's apartment and cleaning that up came into her head, briefly, but she knew that she'd fall victim to her own libido and he'd see her gorgeous new tattoo.

Her libido was another issue - as she lost weight in some areas and gained it in others, she found herself being turned on more and more, by every little thing. It was rare for her to go a few minutes without a new sexual fantasy drifting through her mind. At home, when she wasn't working out or cleaning she would lay in her bed, her hand between her legs, and fantasize about all the men at the gym spanking her, degrading her, using her body, taking her from behind.

The anal fixation was new as well. She couldn't work out if it was a side-effect of her new rear, but now when she played with herself, Molly's thoughts inevitably strayed towards anal play - men fucking her new, glorious ass, or spanking her, or...hell, using it to store pens. She just needed to think of anything to do with her ass and she was climaxing within minutes.

At work, it had grown chronic. The constant stream of men flowing in and out of her office, checking her out, flirting with her and loving that she flirted back...every time a man looked at her body it sent jolts straight to her pussy, and she'd taken to visiting the restroom several times a day just to stop herself from jumping one of them. Her nightly breast-play with Luke served as some relief, but it was getting harder and harder to stop herself from offering up the rest of her body for his pleasure, to allowing him access to her behind...

But the two changes to her body that alarmed her the most (she really must see a doctor about that, she'd thought, before her mind drifted into images of her as a nurse, a nurse working under a big strong doctor, who would invite her into his office and take her temperature rectally...) were her hips and her legs.

Something had happened to Molly's hips - she found herself unable to walk without swaying them back and forth like a model on a catwalk. It was, she reasoned, because her body spent so much time running, or possibly a side-effect of the sudden growth of her ass...whatever the cause, it was starting to get inconvenient.

She couldn't even walk around the office without mincing like a little sex-kitten. It added to the excessive male attention she was getting, which caused her juices to start flowing, which inspired her to walk to the restroom and get herself off. (and, in what was becoming a vicious circle, her walk back took her right across the office once more. By the time she sat back at her desk, Molly was already worked up again.)

But the most inconvenient of all her sudden changes was in her legs - all of her working out seemed to have tightened her tendons, and except for when she was running on the treadmill, Molly found walking painful without some kind of high heel. She could survive it long enough to have a shower, but every other minute of the day, even when she was just walking naked around her apartment, Molly had started to wear heels.

On Thursday night, she'd realised that she had worn her only set of heels two days in a row (completely unprofessional - as a girl who wanted to get ahead, she couldn't afford such things) and had gone shopping for more. At first she'd only been planning to get a few new pairs, and maybe some new corporate outfits as well - something professional that she could wear without revealing her tattoo...and a new gym outfit, too.

When she'd seen a revealing dress that she loved, she'd reasoned that it could just be for the weekends, that it wasn't something she'd wear to work...and of course she had to get those matching heels, even if they were a few inches higher than one would typically wear at the office...and if she got those heels, she had to get the dress she'd seen earlier but rejected because she didn't own the shoes for it...

Molly went home that night with ten new outfits, none of them suitable for work.

Waking up on Friday morning, Molly had looked at her wardrobe and wondered what she had been thinking. On the brink of getting mad at herself, she just closed her eyes and let the rain in - she knew that she could find some way of finding the positive in this situation.

A few minutes later, Molly opened her eyes and picked out the most conservative new dress that she'd bought. Even if her choice had been the most professional dress ever made, her walk would have destroyed the image immediately. Every time she swayed across a room she looked like sex on legs, and she was starting to feel like it as well.

Work was fun that day. When she'd seen the reaction Luke had to her new ensemble, she knew she couldn't wait until work was finished to let him get some release, that would just be cruel. The two of them had emerged from the restrooms at 9:30am, sweaty and sticky - the room had been slightly too small for their usual titty-fuck, and so Molly had resorted to giving Luke a blow job. Topless, of course - it wasn't cheating if it was topless, she told herself. Or something like that. The lines were starting to get blurry.

After work, Molly was delighted to discover that Luke was up for a second round. (it was actually his third for the day; he'd used his lunch break to get himself off once more, but he saw no reason to inform Molly of that fact. No need to dissuade her of the idea that it was her role to get him off.)

This time, he spent a few minutes sucking on her nipples, getting her so worked up that for the first time, she played with herself as he slid between her breasts, bringing herself to orgasm at the same time as Luke came on her face.

She insisted on giving him another blow job before they left for the weekend.

Saturday came far too quickly, and she knew she couldn't cancel on John again. He'd called her three times throughout the week, and she'd given a different excuse each time. It wasn't fair to him. Besides, it had been two weeks since she'd been fucked, and she knew she couldn't hold out for another week. If she didn't make love to John, she'd finally snap, and give herself to Luke, or one of her work colleagues, or one of the men at the gym, or a stranger on the subway...

Chapter 4:

John couldn't believe his eyes when Molly walked through the door. They'd arranged to meet at his favourite restaurant, the same place that they'd had their first date. He could remember watching her enter, years ago; she'd been dressed casually (slightly underdressed for the setting, if he was being honest) and he remembered seeing her smile for the first time.

It was her smile that he'd fallen in love with; on that night so long ago, his first thought had been that she looked drab and uninteresting - but when she'd smiled, it had changed her whole face. It had made the room light up, and suddenly transformed Molly into one of the most beautiful women he'd seen.

The Molly that walked through the door, however...well, John didn't honestly know how to react.

She looked like sex on legs. For the second time, she was underdressed, but not because her clothes were too informal - this time, it was purely because of how much flesh she was showing. John couldn't believe that the same girl who had arrived at their first date in a sweater was wearing a dress that showed more boob than it covered.

And her ass - for Molly and her work colleagues the changes had been gradual. Previously, her work colleagues had never had a reason to pay attention to the size of her assets, and whenever Molly had spent too long staring at herself in the mirror in the last week, she'd quickly become distracted and ended up bringing herself off. As a result, no one had noticed the exact nature of Molly's changes.

But John was seeing it all at once, showcased by the slinky black dress Molly was wearing.

Her ass had more than doubled in size, practically reaching cartoon proportions. It resembled an over-the-top parody of what a fantasy butt would look like, emphasized even further by the way she walked, sticking out so abruptly below the small of her back that you could have used it to rest your drinks.

John couldn't stop staring at its perfect heart-shaped form as she walked from the door of the restaurant to the maître d', who pointed her in his direction. She smiled as she saw him, and her attractiveness somehow doubled.  


The rest of her may have changed, but Molly's smile had stayed exactly the same.

She was wearing a simple black tube-dress, leaving her arms and shoulders completely bare and showing ample cleavage - and as she approached their table, John realised that it wasn't just her ass that had grown. Her breasts, already large, seemed to have increased in size as well.

The dress was clearly made for a slightly smaller woman, and Molly's assets were causing it to practically burst at the seams; her ass had brought the hemline up by at least half a foot, and John couldn't work out how big her boobs had actually grown, they were so restricted (and yet enhanced) by the tightness of her ensemble.

The black five-inch heels on Molly's feet lengthened her legs, almost forcing you to follow them up with your eyes until you reached her magnificent rear, and John realised that this was the first time he'd ever seen her in heels at all. It all came together so perfectly, creating an image of curviness and womanhood like John had never seen before that he was instantly hard, his mind immediately filled with dirty images of everything he wanted to do to her.

If he'd been capable of taking his eyes off her for a second and looking around the room, he would have seen that she had caused a similar reaction to every other man who had seen her.

By the time she reached the table and sat down, John was speechless. He felt as though his mind had been turned into putty by the gorgeous creature in front of him. He was vaguely aware that she was saying something, but he couldn't stop staring at her cleavage and remembering that ass - that ass! - of hers.

"Sorry I'm late," she purred. Even her voice was somehow sexier. "I had to pick something up on the way here."

John noticed for the first time that Molly was holding a plain paper bag. The rest of her body had blinded him from noticing anything else about her. The restaurant could have caught on fire and he wouldn't have spotted it.

"That's okay," he replied. It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up to what she'd been saying, and a few seconds more before he was able to respond.

"Shall we eat?" she asked, seemingly unaware that anything was different, and almost before she'd finished the sentence, their waiter was at the table, visibly struggling to stop himself from drooling.

Molly ordered first, John unable to tear his eyes away from her for long enough to look at the menu. He dimly noticed that she was moving her lips as she read. It should have been horrifying, the smart, sassy girl he'd fallen in love with, seemingly struggling with reading basic English, but John couldn't stop thinking about how good her lips looked, how thick and full they were, how perfectly-constructed they seemed to be for sucking cock...

After Molly was done telling the waiter about the meal she wanted - emphasizing the "cream" in "creamy mushroom sauce" - John hurriedly ordered as well, not even registering what he'd asked for.

John stared, agog, as Molly munched on bread rolls and prattled about the changes she'd made in her life. He tried to listen out for any kind of information that would suggest how she'd changed from dowdy office worker to sex bomb in a week, but nothing jumped out at him, and soon he was forced to ask.

"Molly," he said, interrupting her story about which treadmill she liked best, "what on earth happened to you?"

Molly froze, a bread roll halfway to her lips, and John suddenly felt tremendously guilty. She looked like a dog who had been told off for jumping on the table, or a child scolded for grabbing the largest piece of cake.

"What do you mean?" she asked, pouting.

"Just...look at you!"

Molly looked down at herself, and suddenly went bright red.

"Excuse me," she said, and before John could respond, she left for the bathroom, leaving a trail of erections as she sashayed across the restaurant.

On the verge of tears, Molly burst into the bathroom and stared at herself. Dear god, what HAD happened to her? A few weeks ago, she was a respectable graphic designer who wouldn't be seen dead in a dress like this. Now, here she was, in a classy part of town, dressed like a common street-walker. No wonder John was disappointed in her.

And if John was turned off by the way she looked, just imagine how he'd feel about how damned horny she was all the time. The way that he'd stared at her, it had made her so wet that she was surprised he couldn't smell it...of course, now that she thought about it, that must have just been a look of disappointment.

Molly began to sob, huge, heart-broken sobs that caused her whole body to heave. She didn't fit any of her clothes, she couldn't go more than an hour without needing to masturbate, and she was so restless, all of the time. She could have gotten through it if she'd just had John's support, but he thought she was a freak. She had been looking forward to fucking him, but he probably wouldn't even want to touch a worthless whore like her.

And she definitely couldn't let him see her tattoo. Any chance of a reconciliation would be destroyed if he saw her new tattoo, saw how proud she was of it. He already thought she was a slut, he didn't need to see that she'd gone out and labelled herself as one.

As her tears hit the washroom basin, the sound reminded her of the rain. The rain...

Molly stood up straight, closed her eyes, and let the rain wash over her.

It felt like seconds, but was minutes later when she re-opened her eyes and examined herself in the bathroom mirror. If she'd learned nothing else from the past week or two, she'd at least learned how to turn every situation, no matter how bad, into a positive one.

So what if John didn't want to fuck her? That was his loss. Molly was horny, and if he wasn't going to satisfy her needs, she wasn't going to wait for him to come around.

And so what if her current clothes made her look like a slut? That sort of worked for her; Molly was in the mood to fuck, and her clothes absolutely helped advertise that fact. Any man looking at them would know exactly what she wanted, and be ready to give it to her.

So what if she didn't fit any of her old clothes? They definitely weren't going to help her get laid. Her new wardrobe, however, was perfect...it was almost as if it had been put together for that specific purpose.

And if she didn't want anyone she knew to lose respect for her by seeing her tattoo, there was an obvious solution: she just had to do her fooling around with strangers.

As she fixed up her hair and make-up, Molly giggled; she'd been doing that a lot lately. It was as if the world had become a lot more amusing suddenly, or maybe she was just now learning how to enjoy it.

(It was useful, too - whenever someone asked her a particularly hard question, a giggle gave her a few more minutes to think about the answer...and for some reason, everyone had been asking her particularly hard questions lately.)

Molly looked at herself in the mirror, and blew herself a kiss. She looked great, and even if John wasn't going to appreciate it, someone would...maybe that cute waiter who had kept staring at her, or maybe she could ask to thank the chef personally, or even that cute old grandpa, sitting all alone a few tables over...

###

Dinner had gone slowly for John. Molly had taken a ludicrously long time to return from the bathroom - he must have really upset her with his questions. After she'd returned, he'd waited a few minutes and tried to ask again, but Molly had simply excused herself in response, and been gone for nearly as long the second time.

Rather than make the dinner any more awkward (or deprive himself of the view any more than necessary) John stuck to safe topics for the rest of their meal. He got the feeling that he was boring Molly - she kept staring, looking around the rest of the restaurant restlessly - but at least she was no longer upset.

Just before they'd left, she'd excused herself one last time. John had waited impatiently, trying not to notice how long she was gone, and was proud of himself for not saying anything when she returned.

They'd gone straight from the restaurant to a movie - a film that John knew Molly had been looking forward to for a long time. The cab ride there was awkward; as John spoke about recent developments at his work, Molly seemed unable to sit still, unable to concentrate.

John wasn't sure what had happened to her since he'd last seen her, but he wanted to be supportive. He wanted to be there for her. He loved her, after all.

When they got to the theatre, Molly immediately excused herself, and practically ran to the bathroom. It had taken all the will-power she had left not to play with herself in the taxi; as John had droned on, she'd been mentally replaying the escapades she'd had at the restaurant, whenever she was away from the table.

The waiter had been the fastest - she had simply called him over as he was on the way back from the lone gentleman's table, and asked if he could "help" her with something. He'd followed her into the ladies room, and just a few minutes later, she was gulping down a fresh load of cream.

Excited by his enthusiasm, Molly had played with herself immediately afterwards, and he'd stayed to watch. By the time she came, he was sucking on her nipples and caressing her enormous ass, and had become so excited that she'd rewarded him with a titty-fuck (making sure this time to swallow as much of his load as possible, and wipe the rest off immediately after.)

After she returned to the table, she'd realised that the waiter's disappearance had caused the elderly gentleman's dinner to be delayed - when John started asking her some question about something, she'd again made an excuse to leave, and "apologised" to the older man in the best way she knew how.

Molly had planned to blow the old man but she'd somehow ended up completely nude, the gentleman's hands running over her body, and when they'd reached her dripping pussy, he'd asked politely if he could fuck her...

Molly was a sucker for politeness.

When she'd returned to the table, her meal had been delicious (if a little cold; the older man had decided taken his time. Molly had admired his staying power, and by the time they finished and she returned to the table, her dinner had been waiting for her for quite a while) and so before they left, Molly had decided to thank the chef personally.

She knew she didn't have all the time in the world, so she'd settled for giving him a blow-job. (he hadn't complained.)

As she knelt below the the chef inside the restaurant freezer before, she wondered why she wasn't cold. Her attire should have caused her severe discomfort, but the pure heat of their sexual act seemed to keep her from freezing, and as the chef came, it felt like the warmth radiated out from her mouth, thawing her whole body.

As they'd departed, Molly had only just remembered to take her brown paper bag, and thinking about what she'd purchased earlier in the day had done nothing but add to her excitement in the cab.

Within a few seconds of arriving at the movie theatre, Molly ran to the bathroom in excitement, and within a few minutes of arriving in the stall, she was crying out in orgasm, just at the thought of opening her brown paper bag and finally getting to try out the contents.

As the blissful afterglow of orgasm washed over her, Molly smiled. As she'd dashed for the toilets, she was sure that she'd noticed a few single men...and considering what she was wearing, she was sure that they'd noticed her.

Once the movie had started, and John was settled in, she was sure she could just excuse herself, pretend to be craving popcorn or a drink. She could head back into the foyer, find a man standing by himself (or, at worst, tempt one away from his girlfriend.)

She could persuade him to join her in the bathroom, and she could recruit his help with her new purchase.

And afterwards, she knew exactly how she could thank him.

Chapter 5:

As Molly walked into work on Monday morning, she was amazed at how quickly she'd adjusted to her butt-plug's constant presence.

As she'd predicted, it had been no challenge to find someone who could help her - she'd actually found a pair of young men, keen to assist - and had thanked them simultaneously for inserting her new toy for her.

The sensation of all three of her holes being filled simultaneously, one by her new, black butt-plug, the other two by her enthusiastic teenaged assistants had been overwhelming. Molly had never come so close to blacking out from pure pleasure, and when she tasted one of the boy's cum at the same time as she felt the other coming in her wet pussy, she experienced her strongest orgasm to date.

She'd forgotten why she was even at the cinema and gone home, leaving John alone and confused when he came looking for her half an hour later.

Driving to work on Monday, she'd almost gotten lost - Sunday had been spent cleaning: cleaning her apartment, cleaning her butt-plug, cleaning herself of the last of her body hair (for years, she'd refused to shave her pubic area, preferring to keep it neatly trimmed, but now even the idea of hair down there just seemed...wrong) - and when she wasn't cleaning, she was cumming.

The butt-plug seemed to amplify her sex-drive tenfold; she'd been easily worked-up lately, but with the butt-plug in, everything, _everything_ reminded her of sex. Her TV remote immediately got her thinking about the cocks she'd sucked; the "submit" button on her email log-in made her wonder what it would be like to submit to a big, hulking man; even the act of plugging her iPhone in to charge reminded her how much she wanted to be plugged, how charged up she was feeling.

What Molly hadn't noticed was that each orgasm was knocking a few points off her IQ. After her fourteenth orgasm of the day, her to-do list has simply read "Cleen, jim, cum", and by Sunday evening, she couldn't even read that.

Panic had momentarily seized her when she couldn't work out how to turn the TV on, but after a few minutes of the rain, the quiet, peaceful, gentle rain, she realised that it wasn't worth worrying about - worry was for smart people. She didn't need TV, not when her pussy and her hands provided her more than enough entertainment to get her through the night.

Molly's dreams on Sunday night revolved around something other than sex, for the first time since she got her tattoo. She dreamt about how beautiful it was to be stupid, how her new, vacuous outlook on life was perfect; if she was dumb, she didn't have to think about nearly as much. All she had to do was focus on what she was good at - looking good, making men happy, and bringing herself off.

And cleening, of course.

So when she'd arrived at work on Monday, she was a few hours late. She'd forgotten to set an alarm, she'd gotten lost a few times on the way there, and when she'd eventually remembered the name of her work, she'd spent some time finding a helpful stranger who could push her in the right direction.

If she hadn't insisted on thanking him, she probably would have been in before ten.

Work passed in a daze - her boss had called her into his office for a meeting. He was clearly determined to make some kind of point, but Molly kept drifting off when he spoke, and that just made him madder and madder. She was so wet by the time he was done yelling at her that as she stumbled out of his office, she grabbed Luke and headed straight for the washroom.

The noises that followed made it pretty clear what they were doing in there.

After her orgasm, Molly had a brief moment of clarity. Looking at herself in the mirror above the sink, she felt like her old self was looking back, disappointed. Before she could really take that in, she noticed her tattoo - even though Molly could no longer read what it said, it comforted her - it told her who and what she was. She was a slut. A slut. A big butt slut.

Molly spent the rest of the day in the washroom, alternately playing with herself and pleasuring any man who came in. She found herself staring at her butt whenever she was getting off, or whenever she faced the mirror while fucking someone. It was so big and bouncy, such a perfect ass...she could see that it was driving the men who came to visit her crazy as well, and that just made her love it all the more.

At the end of the day, Molly's boss came in to escort her off the premises - she would have been annoyed, but he let her give him a quick blow-job before he officially fired her.

On Tuesday night, Molly sat in her lounge-room, looking at all the new clothes she'd bought, wondering if she should be worried about her job. A day of shopping had pretty effectively managed to take her mind off it - shopping was so much easier when you can't read the numbers, she'd discovered - you just grab anything that looks pretty (or slinky, or short, or slutty...) and hand over your cards. Towards the end of the day, her cards had stopped working, but that had somehow made it even easier - after a quick, wild fuck, the store clerks would often let her take the clothes for free.

Joke was on them, Molly had thought - she'd wanted to fuck them anyway!

By Wednesday, the rain had become a constant presence. Most of the time it was a gentle shower, caressing her face and telling her that everything was going to be okay, but during sex it was a storm, causing lightning to course through her body and rewire her brain. Molly had returned to the gym, but even after two whole hours on the treadmill, she was still buzzing with energy. She joined an aerobics class, and found something that finally took the edge off; standing in the front line of the class, and bending over, bending over, bending over...

The rest of the day was a wash, as Molly wandered the streets near her gym, bending over at every opportunity that she got. She was wearing nothing but her new work-out clothes; a sports bra and a pair of tights, but even if she'd been dressed like a nun her ass would have stopped traffic.

She quickly made a game of it, seeing how many men she could get hard, seeing how many people she could stop in their tracks by bending over in front of them. One look at her bountiful, gorgeous ass, and no man could continue thinking - all they could focus on were her enormous buns, her gluteus maximus maximus...Initially, she tried to look like she was stretching, but soon she was bending over without even an attempt at an excuse.

No one complained.

Every time Molly bent over in front of a man with a visual erection, images flashed through her mind of them fucking her, fucking her in the ass. She still hadn't been fucked in the ass, though she couldn't work out why - Molly knew that she'd been a slut for as long as she could remember. She'd always used her body to get what she wanted, and (conveniently) what she'd always wanted was to be fucked, as often and as hard as possible.

So why had no one ever fucked her where she wanted it most, in her greatest asset? Molly's brow furrowed, but she quickly shook it off. It wasn't worth worrying about; nothing was, for a hot piece of ass like her. Seeing a man crossing the street up ahead, Molly ran to get into position.

###

When Molly returned home that evening, a man with a familiar face was standing outside her door, looking worried. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Molly!" he exclaimed, "I was so worried!"

Molly stared at him, trying to place him, trying to remember his name. She was pretty sure that she hadn't fucked him, and he wasn't a member of her family or anyone from her work, but he was strangely familiar to her, and he definitely seemed to know her. Jake...Jim...John! That was it!

"John!" she said, hitting him with a smile. "What are you doing here?"  


As John started to drone on about missing her, and being worried, and wondering if she was mad, Molly looked through her bag for her key. She just wanted to get inside and get off - and clean up a bit. When five o'clock had hit, the streets had gotten much busier, and her game had escalated, and grown more intense. Molly had quickly changed the game to be "how quickly can I get strangers to fuck me", and it had turned out to be a game that she was really good at.

She still hadn't given anyone her ass though. She'd decided to save that for something special. (although she still didn't know what, or why.)

"So I want to make it up to you," John concluded. Molly blinked twice - she'd forgotten he was even here. "Let me take you out to dinner?"

It didn't take long for Molly to make up her mind - she had no food in the apartment, and she didn't really want to let this strange man, whoever he was, into her house. It could be dangerous, or something.

Besides, if she went out, she'd get to show herself off to more men.

###

John wasn't sure how to feel. Molly seemed to have undergone a drastic transformation - she'd gone from a sensible graphic designer to a complete sex-bomb in just over a week. On the bright side, his girlfriend was now a complete sex-bomb; he'd thought she'd been dressed for sex in the restaurant the other night, but it seemed that had been her "classy" outfit.

Before they'd left, she'd excused herself to get changed, and what she was wearing absolutely screamed sex at the top of its lungs. And just in case you didn't hear it, it also seemed to scrawl it in mile-high letters made of fire. It was impossible to look at Molly without immediately thinking about fucking her, hard. She seemed to be dressed for sex.

Her black heels were gone, replaced with pink platform heels. She wore a tight denim skirt, which looked like it had been ripped to be as short as humanly possible; on a standard figure, it might have been passable, but Molly's enormous ass meant that her thong was constantly on display - and the front looked like it was soaked through. Her ass would have been impossible to ignore even if she was sitting down in a thick pair of pants; in a denim dress, her ass was practically slapping you in the face to get your attention.

As long as John had known her, Molly had been slightly guarded about her tits - they were large, and she was sensitive about them - she wanted to make sure that she was recognised for her personality and skills, and never just known as "the girl with the tits".

If it wasn't for her ass, it would be impossible to classify the new Molly that stood in front of him as anything but "the girl with the tits". At first, John had assumed that she was wearing some kind of push-up, but he quickly realised that her new breasts must have grown at the same time as her ass, because it quickly became clear that Molly wasn't wearing a bra.

Her black top started well above her belly-button, and itself resembled a half-cut bra, stopping just above her nipples. The only thing separating it from a bra were the two lines of black cloth that travelled around to the back to connect it up. Short of a bikini, it would have been almost impossible to show more skin. The result was a sort of black "X" across her front, perfectly presenting her tits and ensuring that whether you were looking at her from the front or the back, you would think you were looking at her best side.

John was conflicted. He wanted to support his girlfriend, or find out what had happened to her and help her through it. But more than that, more than he'd ever wanted to in his entire life, he wanted to fuck her.

He just had to get through dinner, he decided. He'd get through dinner, and then he'd work out what exactly was the best thing to do.

Chapter 6:

Molly couldn't understand why Jake was getting so annoyed. He kept telling her that they were in a hurry...duh! She knew they were in a hurry, that's why she wasn't fucking every guy they passed, just making them hard. Each time she noticed a guy's eyes on her (which was almost constantly, dressed the way she was) she'd bend over and show off her delectable ass until they either stopped in their tracks and gaped, or got so entranced that they ran into something.

Inspiring erections was so easy that it wasn't even a challenge any more. Fortunately, it was still fun...after all, thought Molly, that's what she was here for!

John spent the first few minutes of Molly's "game" getting sucked into it himself; it was until the fourth or fifth time that she bent over, distracting him with her perfect rear, that he realised what was going on, and snapped at her to stop. It seemed to just go in one ear and out the other however, and Molly showed no signs that she was listening to him, or even slowing down.

One long, erotic hour later, they were finally getting close to the restaurant. As they turned the corner, a short hairy man approached the pair. Molly stared at him briefly - he too looked familiar, like she'd once lived another life and known different people - but he didn't nudge her memory in the same way that Jim had.

This man looked...well, for one he looked like a gorilla...but more than that, he looked important. He looked like someone she'd been waiting for. And for reasons she couldn't even come close to explaining, he looked like someone she wanted to fuck.

"How much?" he slurred in Jeff's direction, and then turned and spat on the street. Molly was confused, and waited for Jack to speak for her. Something about that seemed right, letting men do all the talking. Her job was just to stand there and wait to be told what to do.

"I'm sorry, we're in a hurry." John replied curtly. An hour of teasing had left him with an almost-painful case of blue balls, and as soon as he got into the restaurant, he planned on excusing himself and relieving the pressure. The way Molly had been behaving, he could probably convince her to come with him to the bathroom, and help him take care of the problem she'd caused...but no, he couldn't think like that. Molly was a person, she wasn't just sex on legs. (even if when one was looking at her, it was hard to think of anything else.)

"How much for that ass?" the man continued, undeterred by John's words. "I wants to fuck it."

Molly's eyes lit up. It was if his words burned themselves straight into her soul. It was perfect. She didn't know why, but this man, this was the man she'd been saving her ass for. Her round, perfect globes had just been waiting all this time for this stout fellow to come along and part them with his cock.

The image filled Molly's mind until she wasn't aware of anything else - the street they were on, Jacob standing beside her - all she could visualise was bending over and letting this perfect specimen of man slowly slide between her cheeks, allowing him to fill her up and make her hole whole.

"I beg your pardon!?"

John couldn't believe his ears. One of the ugliest little men he'd seen had assumed‚Ä¶had assumed that his Molly, beautiful professional Molly...was a prostitute!

Of course, at a glance, it was easy to see how one could make that mistake. Her clothes, the way she was staring hungrily at the man's pants, and peeking out of the top of her shorts - was that a tattoo?

Even though the man's conclusion wasn't a massive leap of logic, John was damned if he was just going to stand by and let someone insult his girlfriend's honour like that. He stepped forward, but before he could even roll up his sleeves, the man continued.

"Five hundred dollars," the ape-like man offered, and without even letting John so much as process the words, Molly shouted her agreement and leapt into the man's arms.

"Molly!" John shouted, but to no avail. The man grinned briefly, struggling to hold the buxom woman, the the pair started passionately making out, Molly grinding frantically against him however she could.

As the two slowly started to walk away, the last of John's hope that he'd get the old Molly back crumbled away. The couple paused, as the small man set Molly down on the pavement beside him, and John ran to catch up.

"Molly!" he cried, but gave up, defeated before he even began.

"I know hows it works," said the small man, his arm around Molly's waist, his hand caressing and fondling her mostly-exposed ass as she bent over to nibble on his ear. "You wants to come in and watch, make sure I doesn't rough her up, I don't mind."

His only response a dumb nod, John followed the pair as the stranger unlocked a the tattoo parlour, simply labelled "Bubba's", and let them all in. John's mind had given up, and his body was simply along for the ride.

Bubba admired Molly's body as they walked through the door. She looked like a cartoon character, with her enormous bubble butt, bouncing with every step she took. Her tits, which hadn't been modest to start with, had almost doubled in size as well, but they were no competition with her magnificent rear. It was twice the size of a watermelon, and jutted out so perfectly from her back that it almost could have been used as a seat. And immediately above it sat her tattoo, which still looked as fresh as it had the day he'd inked her.

They'd been through the door for only a few seconds when Bubba practically ripped Molly's clothes off. She squealed in delight - there was just something so freeing, so sexy, so bouncy and fun about being naked. Dress-ups were fun too, especially stockings and skirts, but everything felt so _right_ when she was nude, like this was how she was supposed to be.

She was thinking about how bouncy her breasts were when there weren't any icky clothes holding them down, when the strange man reached between her legs, and her brain turned off completely. He roughly inserted two fingers inside her hungry pussy, and she almost came on the spot. When he removed them just as abruptly, she almost complained, until she remembered that he'd paid for her. His pleasure was paramount; hers was incidental.

Molly's mind played with the concept for a few seconds as Bubba lowered his pants and sucked on his fingers, enjoying the taste of the buxom woman's juices. He'd paid to have her - what a funny thing to do. Didn't he know that she was his for the taking? She would have done anything he'd asked, but he'd paid good money, so that meant she had to work extra hard to make him happy.

He'd paid for her, and that meant he owned her. Molly's head started to swim as the idea burrowed deep into her consciousness - he owned her. Bubba owned her. She didn't question how she knew his name...she just knew that he owned her tits and her legs and her pussy and above all, he owned her massive, bouncy, heart-shaped ass.

John watched in shock as Bubba's fingers, covered in a combination of his own saliva and Molly's juices, slowly entered her ass and retrieved her anal toy. It must have been up there the entire night, he realised, or at least since she'd gone inside her apartment and changed. The idea simultaneously shocked and aroused him, and his penis started to grow hard once more at the idea.

Bubba brushed his dick up against Molly's pussy-lips, using her freely-flowing juices to lubricate it. He lined it up against the tight rosebud of her enormous ass, and slowly started to push forward.

Molly moaned in pleasure. All the fucking she'd done, all the time she'd gotten herself off...even the anal vibrator that had lived inside her for the last week - nothing compared to the feeling of the short man's cock as it slowly entered her hole.

Electricity shot through her brain, every part of her body was tingled, and she felt...satisfied, for the first time since she got her tattoo. A deep feeling of purpose settled upon her, the rain seemed to turn into a warm bath, and her pussy and asshole throbbed in arousal as Bubba penetrated her, filling up her beautiful butt.

This, this was what she was built for. This was her purpose, to turn men on, to make them want her, to have them use her large, glorious ass.

She was crying with joy as she felt the last of Bubba's cock enter her. He was completely inside her, and started fucking her in earnest. Her large tits bounced up and down - he had no interest in being gentle, and was was clearly focussed on his own orgasm, simply using her body for sex.

She loved it.

"I'm a slut," she moaned, thinking of nothing else but on the thick rod sliding in and out of her behind. "I'm...I'm..."

As John had watched the woman he'd once loved get used like a sex doll, fucked with no regards to her feelings or pleasure, he felt an equal mix of embarrassment and disgust. When she started shouting that this was her purpose, begging Bubba to use her, he felt sick to his stomach.

But most disturbingly of all, the worse he felt, the more turned on he felt. The depravity of the situation, Molly's willingness to be used, her obvious desire to be treated like an object, her transformation from respectable business-woman to fuckable piece of ass...it combined with his feelings of revulsion, and somehow turned into the strongest arousal he'd ever felt.

When he finally managed to read what her new tattoo said, he stopped fighting the last of his resistance. He gave up on any dreams of saving her; she'd gotten her new purpose permanently etched onto her skin, and he couldn't deny that he'd never seen her happier.

She wanted to be used for nothing but sex; if her new body and behaviour didn't scream it loud enough, she certainly did.

"I'm a big butt slut!!" Molly moaned triumphantly. "Oh god, fill me up! Fill me up with that cock!"

She didn't notice John unbutton his pants and start to stroke. She didn't notice Bubba's sneer of victory. All she was aware of was that her orgasm was approaching, and it threatened to blow every other orgasm she'd ever had out of the water.

As John stimulated himself, he was compltely unaware of the tall man behind him. He didn't see Mitchell raise his glasses, and he didn't even feel the man reach out and touch his shoulder.

He did, however, notice the rain.

When the brief mental storm passed, John sighed. He realised it was pointless - he was never going to fuck Molly, he was never going to get a chance at that perfect ass. As he contemplated his own patheticness, even his erection failed.

John stood there, pants around his ankle, his hand still rubbing his flaccid penis. He'd been obsessed with Molly for months, ever since he'd first stepped into the strip club where she worked. He'd never even visited a place like that before, but the second he'd seen Molly on-stage, observed her perfect body and been drawn to the way she shook her rump, he'd known he was hooked.

After that, he'd been back every day after work - he'd even started taking extended lunches, just so he could go and watch Molly dance. She'd never even given him the time of day, but when she was on-stage and he was holding money out to her, he'd felt like he was the center of her universe, like she only had eyes for him.

The feeling only lasted until she left the stage, but for those few moments, John felt like a king. He felt like a real man.

He'd started tipping her more and more, larger and larger tips. His savings account had slowly been drained, but he didn't care - all he wanted was that feeling, the sensation of mattering to the sex-goddess in front of him. He'd offered her hundreds, thousands for a private dance, but she'd refused, not even meeting his eyes. Only when she was on-stage did she seem to care about him, and even then, only when he was offering her money.

The obsession had grown, and she hadn't noticed that he'd started following her after work. He'd seen her give a sympathy fuck to dozens of her other clients. He'd seen her get picked up at bars...hell, he'd seen her get picked up at the laundromat. He knew where she lived, where she ate...and today, after work, he'd seen her meet up with the hairiest man he'd ever seen. He'd sneaked in to watch her get fucked in the ass.

Standing just feet away from his dream-girl, John tried to imagine himself in Bubba's position, fucking the most beautiful ass he'd ever seen, blowing his load deep inside her bowels, but it was no good.

John left as quietly as he remembered entering, aware of his own patheticness.

It was only a few minutes after that when Molly's orgasm struck, filling her head with stars, solidifying her new purpose in life. It didn't take Bubba long to follow suit, filling the slut's limp body with his seed, a dark grin upon his face.

When Molly came to, she was vaguely aware that something was wrong, but she couldn't remember what. Rather than think too hard, she noticed Bubba's cock was soft. That must have been it. Bubba's cock could never be soft, she knew that.

As she slid down his body and swallowed the cock, she smiled. She was home.

It was a clear night outside, but as Molly's lips wrapped around the ugly man's penis, she could hear the soft sound of the rain.

Big Butt Slut

by Pan

Epilogue:

Molly smiled as the stranger behind her pounded into her enormous ass. Her life had been so perfect since her new friends had helped her discover that her perfect body wasn't just made to titilate men, like she'd been doing at the club...it was made to serve them. It was what she was put on this Earth to do.

It had all been a bit blurry since the night she'd taken Bubba home, uncontrollably turned on by the hairy little man, and he'd introduced her to Mitchell who had helped her find who she really was. They'd even let her have a free tattoo once she'd worked out why she'd been blessed with such a magnificent butt, two round protruding globes, so perfectly constructed that it could have been chiselled by God himself. The rest of her body was hotter-than-hot already, but it all looked plain when compared to her glorious ass.

The first time she'd fucked Bubba, everything had fallen so neatly into place. The thick cock sliding in and out of her behind, it caused the rest of the world to fade away. It completed her.

And after that night...well, that was when Mitchell had taken over, and she'd stopped having to make decisions. All she needed to do was fuck, and the men took care of the rest.

Mitchell had even started filming her...she loved knowing that every cock she took was preserved forever, and that every man that came her my ass would inspire another ten, hundred, thousand men to cum. She loved being a slut, for the whole world to see.

She'd taken so many cocks, and she remembered each and every one of them. She could almost feel the girth of all the dick she'd taken up each of her holes. She thought about men watching the video of her taking three cocks at once, and the German tourist who had just come in looking for directions, and left after depositing what felt like a gallon of cum onto her face.

The man behind her was close to cumming, and that simple fact (along with the memories running through her head) were enough to push Molly over the edge as well.

Her hands reached behind her to spread her ass-cheeks even further, and her whole body started shaking in pleasure as she came. A stream of filth exited her mouth, until her mind turned off in pleasure and it was replaced with gibberish and gurgles.

"Fuck bitch, you hot..." the man said, and with one final grunt unloaded himself deep into Molly's bowels.

She sat back, smiling, her asshole gaping and dripping the man's cum. He stared at her, simultaneously disgusted and aroused by her behaviour, and after giving her huge breasts one last fondle, left the room.

It didn't take Molly long to clean up, and within a few minutes she was dressed, standing outside the store, trawling for customers once more.

Just from looking at her, her profession was obvious - the tight leather skirt she'd squeezed her huge posterior into did nothing to cover her, and the ridiculously large heels that were all her legs would allow her to wear emphasized her body.  


She'd taken to wearing huge bracelets - not for any reason but that she liked the noise they made. "Jingle jangle," she thought with a giggle. "Jingle jingle jangle." They matched her hoop earrings; it was the little stuff that kept Molly entertained when she wasn't fucking.

Her walk had somehow transformed into an overexaggerated parody of a sexy stride. She'd tried walking normally, just to experiment, but every step she took caused her to involuntarily throw her hips from side to side, emphasizing her womanhood and causing almost every part of her to jiggle. She presumed it was the same muscles that wouldn't let her take off her high heels - for every waking moment of her life, including eating, sleeping and showering, Molly's feet were always encased in huge heels.

Even when standing still on the street, every inch of Molly screamed sex, but when she walked, her overpronounced sway would have gotten a dead man hard. And if you were standing behind her, staring at her ass (as anyone standing behind her was almost certainly doing) you could notice, peeking out from the bottom of her ridicuously short skirt, a new marking.

Not a tattoo, but a brand. Molly had been scared, when Bubba had brought the hot metal close to her skin, but Mitchell had simply had her look into his eyes as she got branded, and that had made it all okay.

"This way," his eyes had somehow told her, "everyone will know who you belong to."

Now, she loved it. It stood out like a sore thumb, screaming to the world that she belonged to the pair of men who ran the tattoo parlour, and she genuinely wondered how she'd previously managed to live without it.

She didn't like standing outside the store like this, but both Bubba and Mitchell insisted it was necessary to ensure a steady flow of customers. She'd have rather been inside, fucking one (or both) of them, but she did what she was told. She was a good little slut for the boys.

A stray piece of paper floated past, and landed in front of Molly. She bent to pick it up, an action that caused half the street to stop and stare as she did.

It had three funny symbols on it, and a red heart.

"I..." she eventually made out, the dark recesses of her brain reactivating for the first time in months. "I...heart...NY."

 _Milton Glaser,_ she thought idly, before the rest of her brain caught up. _Milton Glaser! Graphic designer, made this logo in...1977._

 _Oh my god. What's happened to me?_

Though her body showed no outward signs of panic, her face keeping the same slack-jawed expression of dullness it perpetually held when she wasn't being rutted, Molly's mind was racing. She remembered everything - the original tattoo she'd wanted, John, her career as a graphic designer...

She tried to keep her breathing steady. Inside her head, she was aware of the rain all around her, but felt as though she was standing in the middle of it, protected.

 _My old life..._ she thought. _My friends, my boyfriend, my job..._

 _I remember everything. I remember reading, and driving, and watching TV. I remember working, and John._

 _But I don't remember happiness._

Her new life was, by her old standards, filthy, degrading, the actions of someone you'd spit on instead of admiring. But she had to admit, the feeling of a thick cock sliding up inside her made her feel more pleasure, more intense joy than anything in her old life. She'd never even come close to this feeling of contentedness, this knowledge that she was serving a purpose, the excitement of living her life from one cock to the next.

With a deep breath, Molly mentally lowered her umbrella. She stepped away from the dry dullness that had once been the life of Molly, and embraced her new self. One hand subconsciously lowered, and started stroking the brand that Bubba had given her. A tiny part of her mind was aware of her IQ lowering, to below what it had even been a few minutes ago, but most of her brain was scanning the area, looking for sexy men with lovely big cocks for her to suck on.

She knew that it felt tingly, but she didn't realise exactly what was happening to her asshole - it was reshaping itself to perfectly fit any cock that it came into contact with. She wriggled with pleasure, causing her huge behind to ripple and jiggle.

A man stopped at the site, and looked up at the neon above her.

"Bubba's late night specials? Is that you, hon?"

Molly giggled, despite the complete lack of humour in the man's words. Her smile was somehow made even more sexy by the blank look in her eyes. She looked down and saw his erection slowly growing at the sight of her.

Suddenly overcome with lust, Molly turned around and bent over, too dumb to realize that the street was not an appropriate place for what she was doing. The man pushed her inside, and as soon as they were through the door, lowered his pants.

"Put cock in butt now please!" Molly pleaded, her eyes clouded with need. "Please!?"

Without so much as pausing, the man spat on his hand, rubbed it on his cock, and immediately pushed into Molly's magnificent ass. He could feel her hole fitting snug around his penis, and moaned at the sensation. It was perfectly shaped around him, and already he could feel his orgasm started to build.

Molly smiled in total bliss. She didn't know it yet, but her body was subtly changing one final time. Bending over like this, her head between her legs, her ass exposed and ready for cock, this was the only position she would ever find comfortable for the rest of her life. Everything else would feel awkward, wrong, even painful.

The changes of the last few months were finally over, and now every part of her, every inch, every pore, every cell was now ready and prepared to make her the best that she could be.

Molly had finally completed her transformation into the ultimate big butt slut.


End file.
