Shutting Him Up The Remote of Transformation chapter 18 by deleted_user

Brandon’s green eyes sparkled with pure mischief as he set his empty plate aside. He stood up slowly, letting his massive tits bounce heavily in the tight black crop top, then turned so his fat ass was facing Vince. The yoga pants left almost nothing to the imagination — the seam disappearing deep between his plump cheeks.

“You know what, big guy?” he purred in that soft, breathy voice. “You’ve been such a good sport with that big, sexy cock tenting all night. How about I give you a little lap dance? Just a tease. I’ll grind this fat ass on you, let these tits bounce right in your face… no touching unless I say so. Sound fun?”

Vince’s hazel eyes lit up like Christmas. His nine-inch monster gave a hard throb, the head visibly flaring against the thin fabric of his shorts. “Fuck yes. Get over here, you little —”

That was as far as he got.

Linda had had enough.

“Goddamn it, that’s it!” she snarled in her gravelly, seventy-year-old-trailer-trash voice. She lunged forward, heavy tits swinging wildly in her torn blouse, and snatched the remote off the coffee table before anyone could react.

Brandon turned, still smiling flirtatiously. “Linda, honey, wait —”

Too late.

Linda pointed the remote straight at the curvy auburn bombshell and the remote chirped. Blue light slammed into Brandon.

The transformation was brutally fast.

His glorious hourglass body collapsed inward like someone had let the air out. Massive perky DDs deflated rapidly into tiny A-cup mosquito bites that barely made a bump under the suddenly baggy crop top. The tiny waist stayed narrow but lost all its dramatic flare. Wide, child-bearing hips narrowed into straight, boyish lines. That fat, heart-shaped ass shrank away to almost nothing — two flat, barely-there cheeks that did zero jiggling. Long smooth legs became skinny chicken legs. The overall effect was a tall, rail-thin woman with almost no feminine curves at all. The black yoga pants now hung loosely off her narrow hips, looking ridiculous.

Brandon stared down at himself in horror, then up at Linda.

“What the actual fuck, Linda?!” he snapped, the soft breathy voice now sounding comically high-pitched and whiny coming from such an un-sexy frame. “I was having fun! That lap dance was going to be hilarious and hot and you just… you just ruined it! Look at me! I’m a damn coat rack with hair!”

He flapped his now-bony arms, the oversized crop top sliding off one narrow shoulder. No bounce. No jiggle. Nothing. Just straight lines and flat planes.

Vince burst out laughing so hard his eight-pack flexed and his still-hard cock bounced in his shorts. “Holy shit, Mrs. H! You turned her into a human swizzle stick!”

Linda crossed her arms under her own massive tits, looking smug despite the cranky scowl. “How do ya like it now, sparkle girl? All that teasin’ and bouncin’ and grindin’ — gone. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before turnin’ my livin’ room into a damn strip club. Flat as a board and twice as boring. Serves ya right.”

Brandon planted his skinny hands on his narrow hips, glaring with pure annoyance. The lack of curves made the dramatic pose look unintentionally comical. “This is bullshit. I was enjoying the attention! I was enjoying making Vince squirm! You’re such a buzzkill, Linda. Change me back right now. Or at least give me some tits again. This body feels… wrong. Like I’m wearing someone else’s sad skeleton.”

Paul’s voice suddenly called from down the hall, sounding nervous. “Uh… guys? Everything okay out there? I heard yelling…”