Free Beach Vacation!

A certain someone gets sent to the Vacation Zone and gets turned into an otter bimbo along the way. Mature.

It was spam—it had ended up in his inbox, but it was obviously spam. In colorful bold letters it said, 'Congratulations, you have won a free Beach Vacation! Redemption begins in...' with a timer next to it, ticking down from ten. Curious, he waited for it to count down to zero. Nothing happened, it just stopped. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, a gif of confetti to pop up?

With a click, he sent the spam email to the trash, then turned and pried himself up from his chair. He rubbed his hand along his face. It felt like he'd been sitting in front of his computer all morning. A quick brush of his tongue wet his dry, tender lips...and then they bulged outward.

His lips pressed against either side of his tongue. It felt as if a sudden rush of fluid had been pumped straight to his mouth, swirling out and filling up the available space, leaving his lips taut and nicely plump. He sucked a gasp through his light pout and clapped his hands over his mouth. The urge to fiddle with them was too strong though; they were just so strange that he couldn't resist prodding at them, tugging them, squeezing them gently between his thumb and forefinger to feel their firmness.

In the middle of squeezing them, they swelled out again. With his fingers on his lips, he could feel the pressure welling up from inside, pushing outward against his fingertips, then firming up like a plush pillow. Gingerly, he felt at the edges of his lips. They were large, not unreasonable, but certainly a bit surprising to find on a guy like him.

He was still reeling from the last surge when another hit him, and this time, it wasn't just his lips. His cheeks flushed as they puffed out; his chest ached and stretched against the front of his tee shirt; his jeans pulled tighter across his hips.

Trying to hold his body back, he threw one arm across his chest and reached back with the other to grab the seat of his pants. It didn't work.

Another surge of fluid squeezed out into his body. His lips bulged out, rounder and thicker, plump enough to project from his face. He worked his jaw up and down; they opened wider, curling into a more circular shape, then spread out against each other as he tried to close them again. At the edge of his vision, he could see the pink blush on his soft cheeks. The heavy slosh of his breasts forced his arm away, rolling out heavy onto his chest. He clapped his arm back across his bustline, trying to hold it steady and to keep his shirt from dragging against his nipples. As his ass and hips thickened, his thighs squeezed tight together, pressing tight against either side of his crotch.

Staggering as he tried to hold himself steady, he bent down in front of the computer, letting go of his pants in order to take the mouse and open up his email again. Something was going on, and he felt like he knew what had kicked this all off. He dug the email back out of the trash folder, but it didn't have any links, any sign who sent it—not even a reply address.

Another wave washed over him as he stood there, bent over in front of the computer. He clutched the desk for support and panted through his plumpening lips. The same fluid pressure swelled out into them, pushing them out thicker and larger—his skin seemed to stretch like a balloon, remaining taut no matter how much they swelled up. Already they were each thicker than a finger's width. As his breasts grew, they pushed back harder against his shirt, growing more firm and rounded. His tender nipples dug into the cloth while he tried to hold them back, squishing them back in against his chest and against each other, as well. The button on the front of his jeans popped open, unable to keep up with the widening size of his hips and his rounded ass. His thighs kept their tight hold on his crotch, and only squeezed tighter the more worked-up he got.

Breathing between his lips almost felt like whistling. Brushing back the sweat on his brow, he lifted himself up from his desk and moved as quickly and as carefully as he could from his room to the bathroom, where he could at least get a better sense of what was going on.

Seeing himself in the mirror was a bit of a shock; he hadn't realized just how much his lips protruded from his face, or how badly his shirt was being stretched by his breasts. Holding his chest with one hand, he leaned in closer to the mirror, examining his lips to find a smooth coat of clear pink lip gloss. He recoiled a little and pouted more severely. Though his brow wrinkled, his cheeks and lips were too taut to show any sign of his worry.

Another surge hit him as he was reaching for his lips. A muffled groan escaped his mouth before they bulged shut around the tip of his finger. If he held his hand still, he could actually feel them pressing out further from his face, slowly sliding along the length of his finger from his first knuckle to his second. His cheeks puffed up further, while behind his glasses, his thickening eyelashes added a more feminine touch to his face. The fluid flowing into his breasts filled them up, then gelled into firm implants. Even without his arm there to hold them together, his breasts squeezed side-to-side against each other. With a snap, the zipper of his jeans burst open, giving his hips more room to grow. His clothes felt so tight around his thighs they could have been shrink-wrapped.

When he pulled his finger free, he found that the lip gloss had thickened into a summery, peach-pink lipstick that made his pout almost glow—and that his nails had each been painted in a matching shade of pink. The image of himself in the mirror looked more obviously feminine, from his slimmer shoulders to his more slender fingers...and the heavy breasts dragging down the neckline of his tee shirt. The counter came up higher than he was used to; he was losing inches off his height.

Before his eyes, the shirt began to swim and ripple as cotton became spandex and the hem crawled up higher and higher on his torso. He grabbed at it and tried to pull it back down, but the fabric was slipping through his fingers, changing whether he liked it or not. Likewise his pants were peeling up along his legs, dwindling down into something snug and skin-tight with its straps wrapped around his hips. His thighs rubbed together as he reached down and tried to tug at the crotch.

He could feel the fluid pressure swelling up inside him again. It pushed into his lips, drawing them outward from his face as they bloated up, so thick and prominent that they almost looked like a beak or a small...snout. Thhwop! His nose popped out, bulging wide and thick as its skin turned smooth and black. It projected from his face, sitting at the end of his short snout and squeezed against the top of his upper lip.

Carefully, he reached up, touching his nose with his fingertips. It was soft and damp. He wriggled it slightly from side to side, then gave it a soft push with his fingers.

That push was like flipping a switch. Suddenly fur flooded back across his face, crawling back over his puffy cheeks and up to his scalp. His ears puffed and bulged and popped up to the top of his head, cupped and covered in the same brown fur that was rushing down over his shoulders. He clutched the edge of the sink for support. As his pink nails curled into small claws, they tinked against the porcelain. He felt the pressure mounting inside of him, fluid rushing to the small of his back until with a sudden forward jolt, a tail burst from his back, thick and muscular and long enough to reach the floor. It was an otter's tail.

His yelp of surprise came out high and airy. His throat tickled tightly; his voice had shot up through the octaves in one single bound. His hair flopped down around him, his bangs nearly touching the rim of his glasses, while the rest was tied back into a straight ponytail that spilled down across his back.

His clothes finished their own metamorphosis, settling down into a snug purple-pink bikini top, and a thong with its straps tied off at the hips in loose bows. Tucked between his paw-like toes were the straps of some cheap beach flip-flops.

For a few moments, he just stared at himself, but then the familiar swelling feeling rolled over him once more. He couldn't even groan in exasperation before his eyes began to roll back in his head. As his lips bulged and glistened at the end of his snout, his thoughts grew softer and more pliable.

He needed to relax. Why was he so worked up? This was totally normal. Being an otter girl was normal.

He blinked heavily. A little squirm ran down his spine, all the way to the tip of his tail. Being an otter girl was normal. A soft sigh left her lips and her shoulders relaxed. Her bikini stretched easily to accommodate the slow swell of her breasts, inching outward until they were just about as wide across as her torso itself. Though her head was fuzzy from having her worries soothed, she found herself wondering just why she was so...pumped up.

Don't worry about it. Just relax. Isn't it nice to just be pretty without having to work at it?

Her eyelashes fluttered and she rolled onto her tip-toes and bit the corner of a plump lip. It was nice to be pretty. She lifted a hand, brushing her bangs even and straightening her glasses. At the touch of her pink claw, the frame of her glasses began to puff out; its thin metal frame bulged into glossy pink plastic. Her growing hips pulled the straps of her thong tighter around her waist and squeezed her thighs tight against her crotch until the swelling finally stopped. She parted her legs and ran a thumb beneath the edge of her thong, making sure it sat comfortably. Between her legs she was still a little swollen and tender, though not enough to distract her—at least, not yet.

The otter in the mirror looked ready to hit the beach, though even if she wanted to, she couldn't just leave on vacation all of a sudden. She tried to frown, though the most she could manage was to wrinkle her snout a little. She had responsibilities, and people might worry about her.

While she fretted into the mirror, she didn't notice the bathroom slowly growing—the shower into a full bath, her towels fluffing into fresh white linens, the hand soap by the sink folding itself up into a small, individually-wrapped package with a hotel logo on the front.

Don't worry about it. Don't even think about it. Your responsibilities can wait. Just relax and enjoy the vacation.

Her eyes glazed over and she swayed on her feet. With all her worries soothed right out of her brain, she was left dizzy, fuzzy, not entirely sure where she was or what she was doing. She stumbled out of the bathroom, oblivious to her apartment shifting all around her. Clutter cleared itself away; the kitchen shrank into a kitchenette and the fridge into a minibar. Her window widened and grew into a full sliding glass door. Beyond it, sand unfurled along the ground and blue water washed up to meet it. Palm trees sprung up at the edge of the newly-formed beach.

As the sun flooded in warm and bright, her pink-framed glasses popped into a pair of tinted sunglasses. She reached up and lifted them off her snout, propping them on the top of her head. She stared out at the tropical beach sitting just outside, her pronounced pout hanging open in surprise.

The otter girl blinked. What was so surprising? Other than winning a beach vacation, obviously. She stifled a giggle and reached down to grab her bag, packed with a beach towel, water, lotion, snacks—everything she'd need to spend all day relaxing in the sun. Her brain was still super-fuzzy, but she knew she shouldn't worry too much. She was on vacation! Why would she want to be able to think about stuff?

The fresh air hit her as she slid open the door, making her ears and tail perk up. The breeze came right off the sea, clear and crisp and just salty enough to notice it. The warm white sand squeezed between her toes as she trekked out to the edge of the surf, sat down on her towel, and dug the water bottle from her bag. She spread her lips and squeezed it between them, sucking down a few long gulps of water before parting her lips with a thick pop.

She tossed the bottle back in her bag, stretched out along the towel, and flipped her sunglasses back down over her eyes.

4 September, 2018