Tess talks her boyfriend Chris into trying out BXBI and temporarily turning into a bimbo himself. Explicit.

Chris and his girlfriend were in the middle of a trip to the mall, and she was bimboed out on BXBI.

It was both a dream come true, and a bit of a nightmare. Yeah, he'd always been into the whole bimbo thing, but being out in public with Tess like this... Were people staring at him, wondering how he'd ended up with a girl so hot her selfies looked fake? Or worse, could they guess that she was on BXBI? If someone figured that out—

"Hey, you're blushing," Tess said, spearing thin french fries with a plastic fork.

Chris laughed under his breath and sipped some soda to try to cool his cheeks. "No I'm not."

"You've been all bashful all day. Is it cause I'm hot now?" she asked with a wink.

Tess was hot. And she was having fun flaunting it, from her white, pink-trimmed tank top to the pink hair ties she'd picked out to hold her long pigtails in place. She'd never had a ton of fashion sense, but with a drug-enhanced body like hers, she could squeeze into almost anything and make it look hot.

Her shoulders shifted. Her tank top stretched a little wider around her defiantly fake tits.

Chris realized he wasn't looking at her face and sipped his soda again. "No. I'm just...we're in public. It's a little weird."

Tess spread her lips to take a big bite of her hot dog. A knot wriggled around Chris's stomach. No way she wasn't doing that on purpose. She brushed off her fingers with a napkin, then reached down into her purse. "You need to unwind," she said.

Chris looked down at the remains of his orange chicken. "Probably," he said. "This is just really new to me, you know, having it be real instead of..." Tess pulled something from her purse. He looked up. She had brought the bottle of BXBI pills with her.

"You should try one," she said.

Belong to the Sea

While on vacation, a chemical spill kicks off a college student's transformation into a squishy sea monster. Explicit.

Leah's day at the beach had been cut short by a chemical spill, and then everything else went wrong too. She was diving as far out as she could go, so when the hazmat guys started calling everyone in, she didn't hear. By the time she saw something was up, she'd spent an extra fifteen minutes more in the water. Waiting at the back of the line for the quarantine tent, every itch was acid and every turn of her stomach was flesh-eating bacteria. And then, once she'd been checked over and put through the decontamination shower, she learned they had run out of spare clothes.

To make things worse, she was dry. The salt, plus standing in the sun, plus the chemical rinse, left her skin in desperate need of moisture. She was taking a bath as soon as she got back to her hotel room.

Leah left the tent with nothing but a towel wrapped around her waist. As soon as she stepped out, she was assaulted by a broad smile, a yellow-and-orange baseball cap, and a yellow piece of paper thrust into her free hand.

"We at TransCo hope your experience today has been a pleasant one," the young man in the cap said. "We'd love it if you took the time to fill out that survey."

Leah swallowed to wet her throat. "Do you have any water?"

The young man grimaced. "Ooh, no, sorry. But I do have some pens with our logo," he said.

"I'm good," Leah said. She started along the boardwalk back to the hotel. That chemical shower must have done a number on her skin. She was so dry she could feel her skin brushing against itself, like little tectonic plates. She fought the urge to scratch at the itch on her back. Untended, the prickling spread over her shoulders and sides.


Chris's girlfriend tries out that temporary bimbo transformation drug he's been excited about. Explicit.

Chris's girlfriend had found out about his fetish. He felt terrible. But what made him feel worse was that Tess wanted to try it out.

Now objectively, this was a great thing. After hours of watching girls high out of their minds and swollen up on B or bim-bips or BXBI, Chris was finally going to see it in real life.

But just listening to Tess talk about how they would approach tonight responsibly sent all sorts of guilty knots through his stomach. Tess was slim, with a strong air that made her seem to take up more space than she really did. She wouldn't be out of place in one of those videos he watched. The girls usually started out safely cute, even a little tomboyish, like her. If you were making a video, you wanted to show off the change, you know? Same reason why they weren't usually blonde already like she was, with her short head of hay-blonde hair.

Maybe the problem was that he loved her. He'd tried explaining that he didn't need this sort of thing from her, that she was already enough to make him happy. She hadn't believed him. At least, she hadn't believed that he wouldn't enjoy this.

"So I looked up BXBI to see the dosage," she continued.

Chris grasped the inside of his pockets and looked out the window of their apartment. Just hearing Tess say the name of the drug upset him. It was something he heard in porn, not from her.

"What I got is way more than enough. If it works out for us, we've got a whole month of fun," she said. She shook the bottle of BXBI pills and stifled what sounded like a giggle.

Fuck the System

In a cyberpunk world, a punk panthress is brainwashed into being a police officer while a shy jackal finds a new, more punkish self through body modding. Explicit.

Opal stuffed her small red mohawk into a hat made of electrodes, elastic straps, and a tangle of wires. Her natural panther bulk made her an imposing figure, and her black fur only more so. Rows of piercings climbed up her ears and a set of rings jutted from one of her eyebrows. Her chest was stuffed tight into a tank top and her big boots held big paws. In short, she was what the Party called an 'improper citizen'. It was a term Opal took with pride.

At the other end of the wires sat Cai. At his most rebellious, the young jackal looked like an office intern. His pointed ears were the only remarkable thing sticking out of his polo shirt and slacks. But behind that squared-off demeanor and tight-combed black fur was a networking genius with a burning distaste for the status quo. Opal had found him years ago, and now they were partners in hacking.

"Ready to fuck shit up," Opal said.

"Just be careful," Cai said. If you wanted to hack these days, you had to go full immersion. Riskier than good old screen-and-keyboard like Cai preferred, but you could move as fast as you could think. "Here we go." He flipped the switch for the neural rig.

Go Chargers!

Billy gets stuffed into a Bully Charger mascot suit and has to find help before the suit takes over.

It was the night of the fall dance and Billy was on the floor of the supply closet with a knee in his spine.

"Quit wiggling, you dweeb," said Ryan. He grabbed Billy's left wrist and cranked it behind his back. With his free hand, Ryan shoved a long glove onto Billy's left arm. Ryan was the absolute worst. He didn't just have confidence and good hair and a great jawline. He was also the only male cheerleader on the school team.

"Let go!" Billy shouted. He ground his chest against the floor. A layer of foam and synthetic blue-and-white fur separated him from the carpet. Ryan had already managed to wrestle the mascot's padded torso onto him.

This was all about Julie. Ryan didn't even have to say her name; Billy knew it. To Billy, Julie was the prettiest girl in the school, with blonde hair kept back in a ponytail and a big, bright smile. Through some insane stroke of luck, he'd made friends with her. Julie was a cheerleader too, though. That meant that, every day, she spent time with Ryan during practice. Billy was sure Ryan wanted to date her, as sure as he was that Ryan was jealous of what he and Julie had. Or, well. What they could have. Billy hadn't asked her out yet. He was going to do it at the dance tonight, he'd told himself for weeks.

Going Nuts

A girl working at a TransCo gas station starts craving nuts, then turns into an eager squirrel girl. Mature.

Julie worked at the last gas station this side of the Nevada border. Three hours' drive west to the next pump. Nothing quite like the ‘No Services For 200 Miles’ sign to remind her she was in the literal middle of nowhere. The desert sun glared in through the windows in its daily battle against the rattling AC unit on the roof.

At nineteen, she was insanely ready to get out of town. But if she wanted to move out, she needed money, which meant she needed to work, which meant stuffing the TransCo ballcap on top of her messy hair, pulling on the flannel shirt that protected her from the air vent right behind the cash register, and going to work at the least interesting gas station in the state. It was enough to drive a girl...