OOC – Why I don’t write Indian raceplay erotica

Do you also write about [insert race] transformation?

This is a question that’s come up a couple of times over the years. I get variations on it, but Indian is by far the most common one.

While I gotten some really solid, hot prompts before – in my head I’m immediately hitting blind spots. Big fuzzy areas on cultural views on sex, social hierarchy, gender roles, family, etc.

Most of my writing on East Asian Americans girls comes from a place of knowing (second hand) what it actually can be like as 1st or 2nd gen immigrant –  and then twisting is against stereotypes and racist shit they deal with IRL.

On the other end, of transformation – if it’s something I can go totally fictional? Give me.. idk, maybe ‘Dark Elves’? I can work with that.

But as a teen, I actually was close friends with a second-gen Indian-American girl. 

I know she dated a couple white boys and it was an issue.

I know she had never set foot in India, but had to participate in traditions that felt foreign and awkward.

I know all this – her family dynamic, her feelings, the names and general concepts in very, very broad strokes… 

And that oddly puts the Indian-American experience in an uncanny valley for me.

I know just enough to have a sense of where it should go, but I’m missing the nuance to fill in the blanks. There are these juicy twists and internal conflicts I can see outlines of – and they’re just clear enough that I don’t feel right coloring them in half-blind.

I don’t write about Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese and Filipina race change because I know how to make it accurate. It’s the opposite – I know just enough to warp it and twist it. I know how to make it wrong and pervert it for selfish enjoyment.

So, I don’t write Indian race/cultural change for any moral reason. If anything, it’s because I can’t subvert the culture properly

A New Year’s Resolution

From the happy pink voice in your head.

This year has taught you a lot.

It’s shown how fragile the things you used to think were important really are.

“Friends”?

Boring and depressing losers who just want to play board games over Skype.

School?

Quick to take your money, shames you for not being smart enough. Nagging that you’re not “engaged” or too “unfocused” in your online classes.

Family?

Judge you when they find your OnlyFans. Freak out when your little brother was caught stroking to your vids.

Work?

Even worse than school. They call you a bimbo and an airhead on Slack like those are bad things.

This year, you’ve realized you don’t need any of them.

They don’t make you happy.

You don’t need friends when you have thousands of followers on Insta and Snapchat.

You don’t need family when Daddy takes such good care of you.

You don’t need to with a real job when being a sexy online gets you so much money.

You’ve cut them all out. Dropped out and quit your job.

This is better.

This is easier.

This makes you happier.

Embrace your objectification.

Discrimination by MrGrey

“What do you think he wants to see us for?” Laurie asked, straightening her pulled back blonde hair.

“Probably to commend me on the McKlenski report,” Cheryl said confidently. Cheryl was the highest paid black woman in the company.

“Maybe he’s going to give me that promotion I’ve been expecting. I have earned it,” Lucy stated. She had come to America with her parents from Japan when she was just a child and achieved all her success on her own.

Laurie, Cheryl, and Lucy were asked to meet with their boss, Mr. Baxter, at the end of the day. They were all very smart and independent business women who had a long road of success ahead of them. Now, the three women sat in the waiting room outside Mr. Baxter’s office, waiting to be called in.

Finally, Mr. Baxter’s secretary spoke up, “Mr. Baxter will see you all now.”

The three women walked by the secretary smugly, loving the fact that they had broken through the glass ceiling to get to where they were now while this woman had been left behind to take phone calls for her boss… They strutted through the open door into their boss’s office and sat down in the three chairs in front of his desk.

The office was huge. The back window gave a great view of the city behind Mr. Baxter’s desk. Paintings and sculptures adorned the walls and corners of the sophisticated office. The women stared at the back of the leather desk chair, then finally Mr. Baxter spun around to face them.

“Good afternoon ladies.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Baxter,” the three women responded pleasantly.

“I assumed you’re wondering why it is that I called you here today…” Mr. Baxter was a tall, handsome man. His black suit showed that he was also a rich and important man. He gestured at the glasses of water in front of them, which the women politely accepted and took a sip, placing the glass back on his desk.

Laurie, Cheryl, and Lucy awaited an explanation as they watched Mr. Baxter stand up and pace behind his desk.

“The thing is, ladies… The company’s losing money—”

“Oh, I don’t believe this!” Laurie said angrily, already putting 2 and 2 together.

Mr. Baxter tried to regain control of his employees, “Now now, don’t jump to conclusions—”

“What is it you’re trying to tell us, Mr. Baxter?” Cheryl asked, keeping her composure.

“I’m getting to that—”

“I didn’t work this hard all my life for nothing, Mr. Baxter,” Lucy explained with a glare in her eyes.

Mr. Baxter took a breath. This was going to take some careful wording… “We’re being forced make some changes. It’s as simple as that—”

“I’ll tell you what’s simple,” Cheryl said, “Discrimination!” The three women nodded in agreement.

“Cheryl, I can tell you that this has nothing to do with your being… being…” Mr. Baxter was having trouble saying the word.

“Being black?” Cheryl finished for him, sternly, “Actually, I think it has a lot to do with it.”

Lucy chimed in, “And I assume my minority had a say in this as well. Am I right, Mr. Baxter?”

“Ladies, I can assure you—”

Now Laurie had had enough, “I can’t say that I’m too surprised that three women are the first to go through these “changes” as you put it…” Mr. Baxter hid his smile at this. “Are there any men being laid off?”

“Now now… See? I told you not to jump to any conclusions…” Mr. Baxter explained, getting full attention of the women, “No one is being laid off.”

“Then what exactly is going on here?” Cheryl asked.

Mr. Baxter sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at the women, “You see, the company is losing money. And…we can’t afford some of the salaries here. So, we’re just going to make some changes.”

“So what are these changes going to be?” Lucy asked.

“Now, let me just reiterate that this has nothing to do with Cheryl being African-American… Lucy being Asian-American… or with Laurie being a woman. A blonde woman, at that. And very attractive, might I add…” Mr. Baxter said with a wink.

The three women’s jaws hung open in disbelief. “Now, wait just a min—” Laurie began to argue, but was cut off by her boss.

“But, the changes, ladies, are going to be with you!”

The women were paying full attention now, trying to understand what was going on.

“By the way, how was the water I provided for you?”

The women continued listened, starting to feel that something wasn’t quite right.

“You see…we need to make some demotions,” Mr. Baxter explained, “But, I’m afraid that our staff is too skilled and experienced, that they would never agree to step down a few pegs. So, our team has developed something that will make some changes in the staff itself.”

“I don’t understand…” Laurie admitted.

Mr. Baxter laughed, “Well, get used to it, darling. You see, ladies… That water you drank is a special formula that is designed to find your true image of yourself. Any self-conscious feelings you may have felt people have had about you, they are going to take front and center in your personality now…” Mr. Baxter looked at his watch, “Actually, about right now.”

Laurie, Cheryl, and Lucy exchanged worried glances. They didn’t really believe what they were being told, but they did have to admit that something didn’t feel right…

“I feel funny…” Laurie said, her voice sounding a little strange. Higher than normal…

“Damn, my head feels strange…” Cheryl said, getting a little bit of an attitude.

“Oh… Head not feel right…” Lucy said, having trouble finding the right words.

Mr. Baxter smiled to himself, “How do you like it, ladies? Now Laurie will have to be offended by another blonde joke, since she won’t really have the intelligence to get it!” Laurie looked at his with pleading eyes. “And Cheryl, you’ll never have to feel embarrassed by your “ghetto” background, since you’ll be embracing it soon! So be proud!” Cheryl looked like she was ready to fight someone. “And Lucy… You’ll never feel you have to prove yourself ever again, since you’ll know your place in society just like any Japanese woman!” Lucy averted her eyes to the tall man, not knowing what to do.

The three woman all stood up, frightened.

“This, like, can’t be happening…” Laurie said to herself, “I feel like I’m forgetting things!”

“Just let it happen, honey,” Mr. Baxter consoled, “All you need to know how to do now is to read fashion magazines and answer a phone.”

“Don’ be tellin’ us to ‘let it happen’, suga’!” Cheryl said angrily, “I worked mah azz off to get to where I is! And ain’t no white man gonna tell me what I’m gonna do! Nuh-uh!” Cheryl couldn’t help it, but the angrier she got the more she cocked her hip to the side and bounced her neck back and forth.

“Me forgetting words…” Lucy said meekly, “Me…uh, how do you seh? Me scare?”

Mr. Baxter nodded his head, “Yes, that’s right, Lucy. Scared. Very good.” Lucy smiled at the man’s compliment. “You’ll be reading English soon, I bet!”

Lauri had pulled her hair down and was twirling a blonde strand around her finger, “Like, ummm, why did you do this us, Mr. Baxter?” Her eyes were almost drained of intelligence at this point.

“Well, you ladies seemed to be the most obvious choice.” The women struggled to keep up. “You fought so much to disprove the public’s stereotypical image of you, that the formula would have so much to work with!” Mr. Baxter laughed and awaited more changes, “So, Cheryl, how are you feeling?”

Cheryl cut her eyes at him. “Ain’t no Cheryl here, baby,” she explained, waving her index finger in the air, “Dis here be Cherry. Da hottest piece o’ azz in da ghetto!” Cherry accented this by twisting her waist around and slapping her backside. “Now, wud up wit deez lame clothes! Cherry don’ wear no shit like dis!” She looked disgusted at her sophisticated business suit and knee-length skirt.

“Yeah, like, totally!” Laurie screamed, giggling like an idiot. “Let’s go to the mall! I need some new clothes too!”

“Girl, you need more than some new clothes…” Cherry mumbled.

“Like, what do you mean?” Lauri asked, looking serious.

“Sounds like you need to go back to school a few mo’ years…” Cherry laughed to herself at the ditzy white girl.

Lauri just giggled, “But, I, like, graduated high school! What else do I need?”

Cherry didn’t have an answer for that, since she didn’t have anything past a high school diploma either.

Mr. Baxter was pleased, “Lucy, how are you doing over there? Sounds like these two are finished with their changes…” Cherry and Lauri seemed a little angry at their plight “…are you about done? We don’t have all day here…”

Lucy was quick to answer, “Oh! Yes… Yes, sir. Me…done. Me done. Me…angreh a’ you.”

Mr. Baxter laughed, “Yes, I guess I have to expect you to be a little angry for transforming you all into your worst nightmare. But, it’s not like it matters now. You’ve all lost your manners, sophistication, and anything that made you worthy of your previous position!”

“So, what our job gon’ be now?” Cherry asked with an attitude.

“Well…” Mr. Baxter walked up to Lauri and put his hands on her shoulders, “Lauri here doesn’t seem to have to attention span to do anything more that sit at a desk and answer phone calls, so she can be my new secretary. Suzi outside has been waiting to move up a floor, I think you can take her place.”

Lauri was devasted, “But, I used ta be smart, Mr. Baxter! I swear it! Don’t make me a dumb secretary!” Lauri pouted, poking her bottom lip out.

“Cherry here…” Mr. Baxter started to put his hand on Cherry, but she glared at him, making him rethink it, “Cherry couldn’t possibly be allowed to make a public appearance. She hardly knows any grammar now… It would be best to keep her behind the scenes as an office girl, filing— and that doesn’t mean your nails, Cherry.” Mr. Baxter finished sternly, corrected pointing out what Cherry was thinking, gazing at how boring her nails were…

Cherry just scoffed. She kept one hand on her hip and rocked her neck back and forth as she said, “Whateva!”

“And Lucy…” Mr. Baxter stared Lucy in the eye, but she wouldn’t return his gaze, “Lucy can hardly speak the language now. She has no people skills. She is only meant to serve… Isn’t that right, Lucy?” Lucy nodded out of respect. “I think you’d make a perfect cleaning woman for the office. How does that sound?” Lucy was screaming inside, but knew that it was all she was capable of and she needed the money…

“So! This meeting is adjourned, ladies! Thank you for your time and have a wonderful afternoon!”

The next week…

“Like, Mr. Baxter’s office! This is Lauri!” Lauri said cheerily, putting her nail polish down and carefully picking up the ringing phone, pushing the button with the pad of her finger so as not to mess up her nails. Her tits almost spilled out of the tight fitting top she was wearing, and the mini-skirt didn’t leave much to the imagination. But, that’s how Mr. Baxter liked her and she was happy to keep his perverted eyes happy as long as the bonuses kept appearing on her small paycheck.

“Damn, baby! Why you callin’ me now! I tol’ you not while I’m at work!” a loud voice said from the hallway. Lauri looked up to to see Cherry strut in. Her six inch pink heels fit perfectly with her two inch pink press-on nails. They even had her initials on them! Her gold teeth glittered in the light as she tossed a folder on Lauri’s desk without a word and continued yelling into her cell phone, oblivious to other people around her. “Ah wudn’t at no club last night! Shit, ah don’ give a fuck what Mario say! I wudn’t rubbin’ mah azz all over no man!” She glanced at Lauri and smiled, lying through her gold teeth.

Lauri giggled at her naughty friend and went back to painting her nails and thinking about who she thought wasn’t going to win on The Bachelor.

Then, the sound of squeaky wheels echoed through the hallway as Lucy came in with her trashcan and broom. Her sweaty hair dangled in her face and her cheap dress kept everyone wondering what happened to that ambitious Japanese woman that used to work here.

“You rea’ for’ trashca’?” Lucy said meekly and chirpily, having grown accustomed to her new job.

Lauri nodded and pointed to the full waste bin beside the desk. Lucy picked it up and emptied it.

“Ummm…Lucy?” Lauri asked, taking a break from her pretty nails.

Lucy looked up.

“Do you, like, remember anything from before?” Lauri’s voice kept anyone from taking her seriously, but Lucy always listened to her. “Like, I know that I used to be smart… But, it’s, like, getting harder and harder to remember. Do you remember how you used to be?”

Lucy smiled and said, “No unastan.”

Lauri nodded and smiled back as she watched Lucy wheel her trashcan back down the hallway to clean the bathrooms. Lauri’s intercom buzzed as Mr. Baxter asked her to come into his office. She reached into her drawer and grabbed a tube of Lube, knowing what was coming. This was the life of a secretary though, so Lauri had learned to live with it. She had heard that Lucy had been spotted in the Asian side of the city, offering herself to cars driving by, so at least she knew that she wasn’t alone. But, every time she heard of another blonde woman being promoted, she couldn’t help but think of where her life had been going, and every time she bent over Mr. Baxter’s desk, her slippery ass in the air, she couldn’t help but think of what a stereotype she had become…

THE END

An Afternoon Spent at the Gym by MrGrey

A few days had passed since my last “merry-go-round”.

I had considered going a whole week with no excitement. I had planned to take a break; give the people of this city time to get adjusted — let their guard down. I had sat in my apartment for much too long, flipping through the newspaper. As usual, my little amusements would land somewhere after page 6. Titles such as “Still No Explanation For Strange Occurrences” and other such nonsense would crowd my ego. I guess it was fine with me. I never planned on being a celebrity. My “talents” were merely a way to pass time — a way to spend an afternoon.

I happened to glance out my third floor window while on my break. Just the sight of a woman jogging down the sidewalk was enough to make me miss the limelight. She seemed so carefree. The earphones wrapped around her head probably blasting some motivating tune with a fast drum beat. I watched as the blonde checked her pulse and continued on down the city sidewalk.

Cracking my knuckles, I knew the break was over.

I hurried down the stairwell and out into the city air. It was nice to feel the breeze and hear the cars rushing by. I smiled to myself and took a deep breath.

Two teenage girls walked past me, double-taking.

“What the fuck’s with the coat, man?” one asked, “It’s 70 degrees out!” The girl laughed, only causing her friend to shake her head and pull the girl’s arm, urging her to “come on!”.

I snapped my fingers, instantly giving the rude girl a serious addition to licking her friend’s asshole. She flinched at the snap! and backed away, feeling the desire — the urge — slowly taking over her. She turned to her friend with all seriousness and begged to let her lick her ass.

“Right here!” she pleaded, “Right here in the street! I want everyone to see how much I love your ass, Christie!”

Christie was a little more than weirded out and took off running in the other direction. Little did she know that when she got home, she would be overcome with the same urge for her friend’s ass. The two of them would spend the rest of the afternoon chasing after each other’s smooth, tiny asses, just begging to get their tongue in between those soft cheeks.

Well, now that my appetite was whet, I scanned the streets for the jogging girl that had gotten my attention in the first place. I could see the bright yellow sports bra she had wrapped around her near flat torso. The tiny red shorts that rode further and further up her thighs were like bait for the fish.

Of course, I had to see where she was going.

* * *

Hearing the clanking and gonging of the heavy plates being pulled, lifted, and shuffled got my adrenaline pumping. It meant people. It met a crowd.

The jogger had disappeared into Omega Fitness Gym. I walked into the plush building and took in all the sights. It was clearly a hefty membership fee to join this place. It had everything a health nut could want. A nice cafeteria serving all-natural snacks and supplemental power shakes. A line of treadmills faced a television playing a 24-hour news network. Further back was an aerobics studio, lined with mirrors. Women could be seen lined up, stretching and kicking their legs in the air as the bass of some dance music motivated them. Throughout the gym were workout machines and weight benches, all filled with men and women working their hearts out to make themselves healthier and more attractive.

This was going to be fun.

I made my way up to the woman at the front desk. Her name tag declared her as “Tiffany”. She had a nice build to her, broad shoulders for a girl and a pretty good rack. Her legs were clearly her favorite part of herself. Her pants were kept tight to show off how toned they were. Peeking into Tiffany’s mind, I could see that she needed a lot of verbal support from her friends. Her boyfriend knew that she was “high maintenance” but he didn’t care. What a trooper…

Tiffany looked up from some fitness magazine and smiled, “Hey. You got your card?”

I shook my head, and that exact moment, Tiffany had an orgasm. Right as she stood up, she gripped the backing of the chair she had been sitting in. She sucked in a lungful of air as the shock of such a great, but unexpected, feeling surprised her. “Uh…” she moaned, keeping quiet at first, her limbs shaking, but the cum got stronger and stronger, forcing her to squeal and buck her hips in the air. “Ahh-Uhhhh! Ahhh…fuck!”

Tiffany collapsed on the floor, sweating and panting. “What the fuck was that — ?” she asked between breaths, but her sentence was cut off as I instantly erased all knowledge of health and exercise from her mind. Tiffany enviable physique quickly deteriorated as her muscles became soft, spankable fat. Her ass doubled in size and her tits became huge and floppy, now spilling out of her bra. She stood up and brushed herself off.

Her friends wouldn’t have to work as hard to support Tiffany’s ego, since she no longer cared about what she looked like. Of course, I kept her looking good, but the only guys that would really find her attractive would be ones that didn’t mind a few extra pounds. As an extra gift to her boyfriend, for being such a good sport, I gave Tiff an addiction to cum. When the two of them went to parties, while everyone else had wine and beer, Tiffany would have a glass of cum. Usually it would be her boyfriend’s, but other times she wouldn’t even know who’s it was. Though, Tiffany would never forget where to find all the cum she wanted…

“You got your card?” she asked me, not realizing the drastic turn her life had just taken.

“Yeah, right here…” I said, unzipping my pants and pulling my cock out.

She looked a little offended at first, but, later on, as she was wiping my cum from her chin while I walked into the heart of the gym, she would think about the incident while she masturbated in the bathroom. I noticed one skinny chick nudge her muscle-bound boyfriend and point at Tiffany, laughing. I decided to give her boyfriend a fat fetish, and in that instant, he looked at his sexy girlfriend, no longer interested. He walked off to see if he could get Tiffany’s number, while the arrogant girl was left wondering what was going on. I decided to give her the same fetish, making her eyes glued to Tiffany’s glorious round ass.

Now that I had fucked up a few lives already, I was ready to really dig in. There was plenty to play with at this place. I kept my eye on this girl holding a dumbbell behind her head while she worked her triceps. Her chest was sticking out, making her nipples stand out through her sports bra.

Whispering a few Latin phrases, her chest began to expand with each pump. The girl began to seem less interested in her arms as she was with her chest. She would glance down, grin to herself, and then get that focused look back on her face as she pulled the dumbbell back up over her head.

Finally, she brought the weight over her head and set it on the ground. She took a deep breath and walked over to the mirrored wall. She stood sideways, sucked in her stomach and admired the work she had done on her boobs. She squeezed them, slapped them, lifted them, and pinched them. She turned the other way for a moments, looking at them from a different angle, nodded her head, and went on to the next machine. For the rest of her life, she would believe that that exercise would make her tits bigger, and that it was a normal exercise to do, sometimes strangers to feel her tit muscles. Of course they would reach out and grab a hold of her huge knockers, but she wouldn’t see anything wrong with it. Instead, she would just smile and nod, saying, “Big, aren’t they?”

I watched the big titted woman move from machine to machine for a minute, then caught sight of the line of treadmills. About five or six people were walking stationary at a brisk pace. They kept their arms up and their fists clamped, all while keeping their eyes focused on a TV news reporter playing simultaneously on three TVs hanging from the ceiling.

Such boring entertainment…

When the movie “Hole Bangers 36” replaced the newscast on the screens, the walkers looked a each other for moment, confused. They knew that a porn movie shouldn’t be playing at the gym, yet they were compelled to finish their workout. Their necks stayed craned upwards at the televisions while they watched some slut get fucked from all angles by some surfer guy. The women were cleared a little offended yet curious about what they were seeing, but it had the undivided attention of the men.

This was all fine and dandy, but I figured it needed a little something else…

With a wink of my eye, all the women walking of the treadmills moaned. They looked around to see if anyone heard them, then went back to watching the porn. The men were clenching their eyes shut and breathing heavier as they kept at their pace. On the screen, the surfer guy pulled his cock out of the girls pussy and went straight into her ass. All the women on the treadmills jumped as this happened. They began walking a little off balance, almost stumbling over at some points, but remained on their feet. They moved their hips back and forth as they walked and sweated.

They were now feeling the sensation of having a dick up their ass as they walked. The men, clutching the hand rest of the treadmills harder and harder, felt like they were doing the fucking up the ass. It was amusing to watch. As the girl on screen began screaming and cumming, the women all bucked their hips, holding their screams back as best they could. I heard one girl even yell “fuck me”! The guys eventually came in their jogging pants as well.

Once the movie was over, they all jumped off the treadmills and ran out of the building, terrified.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

No one had seemed to notice the charade going on on the cardio machines. The gym continued lifting and stretching away.

So far this afternoon, I had made two girls addicted to each other’s ass, one girl a cum-addicted slob, a guy and a girl that found the slob sexy, and fucked around with a group of power-walkers.

It was time to really get started.

“Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention please?”

At that moment, all exits and entrances to the gym slammed shut and locked. The clanking of the weight plates abruptly silenced. The murmuring of the cafeteria stopped. All that was left was the mumbling of a few faint TV’s and the bass of the aerobics room. Everyone was looking at me. Right now, all anyone cared about was the man in the trench coat standing in the middle of the gym. They weren’t worried about their “quads” or doing anymore “reps”. It was all about me. Me.

And that was the way I liked it.

“I’m terribly sorry, but it appears that you all are about to have the most interesting afternoon of your entire lives,” I explained loudly, so everyone could hear. A few people glanced at each other, as if to ask, Is this guy for real? I nodded sympathetically, “Yes, I’m afraid you all have won the worst lottery imaginable. You all have been chosen to partake in what is becoming a local tradition. When I get bored, I like to use my gift.”

One brave man walked up to me, “What’s your gift?”

I was surprised by the man’s confidence. I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t scared of anything. The amount of weight he could lift over his head made sure of that. As far as this jagoff was concerned, his pectoral muscles could stop bullets… I thought about explaining my gift to him — to everyone. But, I figured, as always, that a demonstration would work best.

I snapped my fingers and pointed at the arrogant man. Immediately, the muscles he had worked so hard to obtain began to deflate. His gray tanktop began to hand loosely from his frame as his gym shorts fell down to his ankles. “The fuck?!” he screamed, surprised at how his voice sounded. It no longer had that burly bass to it, but it now sounded…rather feminine! His worst fears took form as a pair of small bumps formed under his loose tanktop, filling it out a little. The man’s crewcut hair sprouted out, spilling down his neck and shoulders. His eyes lashes grew and his cheek bones rose. His hips filled out and his nails grew.

The former male looked down at his now unmistakable, yet cute, female body. He cautiously hooked his meek thumb around the elastic waistband of his shorts and peered down the front of his pants. When he failed to see his formerly inadequate penis, but rather a furry mound, he was outraged. “You fucking bastard, turn me back this instan…t.” The man’s eyes crossed, then refocused. “I mean…What’s your gift?”

The crowd gasped and took a step back. The skinny woman standing in front of me didn’t understand what was going on. Here she was, working on her butt since her boyfriend had told her it was getting a little too big, and now this guy had walked into the gym. She had asked him one simple question and everyone around her was acting like it was some kind of big deal… She just shook her head and stepped back.

“You see folks?” I laughed, “I have a very special talent…but it doesn’t stop there… YOU!” I pointed at a short young lady standing to my right. She flinched as I snapped my finger at her and pointed to the ground by my feet. “Come here please.”

She was telling herself not too. She commanded herself to make a break for the front door. Her feet weren’t obeying her though. It was as if she were being pulled by a rope.

“What’s your name, darling?” I asked kindly.

She swallowed and eyeballed me like a kitten, “Monica.” Monica had long, dark hair. Her pale skin was complete with a beauty mark above her lip. She was wearing a purple sports bra and black spandex capris.

“Monica, I would like for you to tell us all about yourself — you’re also not going to be modest about anything or leave anything out. Understand?”

Monica nodded, knowing that it would be impossible for her to keep any secrets. She just felt it. She had to tell everything.

“My name is Monica. I used to be a little overweight. I was very self-conscious all through high school and always had low self esteem. When I would masturbate as a young teen, I would imagine that I was being fucked by as many guys as possible, knowing that the more guys that liked me, the better. I now have a husband, who’s a lawyer, that makes enough money for me to not have to work. I spend most of my day working out and keeping myself as attractive as possible. I worry that if I gain any of my old weight back, he won’t find me attractive and will leave me. I love to read. I love doing crossword puzzles. I love independent movies. I don’t like candy, but I love chocolate. I don’t enjoy giving blowjobs, but I agree to do it every once and awhile. I tell my friends that I have a wild sex life, but I know that I’m a lousy lay…”

Monica looked around the room, surprised at how her mouth had seemed to move by itself.

I smiled, pleased, “Very informative, Monica.” I walked behind her and put my hands on her shoulders, “Now, would you please tell the room what you would consider a ‘bimbo’.” I could feel her flinch at the word under my hands, knowing that she knew she would meet the fate of whatever she described. “Now, remember, you can’t hold anything back.”

Monica swallowed and began speaking.

“Bimbos are not respectable women…”

Monica quickly found that her words were going to have an instant effect. As she ended her first sentence, everyone in the room’s opinion of Monica, even if it was nonexistent, plummeted.

“They don’t do anything important. They live for themselves.”

Monica’s memories of having jobs before she got married suddenly disappeared. Monica had come to the realization that she had never worked a day in her life. Her job skills were no more, her social skills were laughable, and her ability to take orders was pushed into the back of her brain until it vanished.

“All they care about is make-up…”

Her face soon became covered in powder (which she had applied only minutes ago). Her eyelashes curled around until they pointed back to her forehead. Black eye-liner circles her once naked eyes, and her nude lipstick was replaced with a bright pink.

“…clothes…”

Monica’s work-out outfit morphed and ripped until she was wearing a bikini-top with tiny triangles to cover her nipples. Her pants shrunk into tiny pink hot pants, leaving her asscheeks hanging out the bottom.

“…and plastic surgery…”

Monica’s nose suddenly flattened at the bridge while the tip turned upwards, leaving her with a cute little button on her face. Her tummy sucked up even more, along with her thighs and her waist, leaving her looking thin and beautiful. Next, her ass filled out her hot pants. Finally, her bikini top became overflowed with huge fake tits.

“They’re not smart…”

Monica felt all her years of college drift away like bubbles and pop right in front of her face. With each pop, her smile became bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger… Monica’s brain slowed to a steady walk, no longer concerned with complex thinking.

“And they suck lots of cock…”

Monica giggled as her mouth began to water. She eyed my crotch.

She heard herself giggle and came up with her next description, “Oh! And, they giggle lots and talk like valley cheerleaders!”

Suddenly, Monica was dressed as a cheerleader. Her hair became long and blonde, spilling down her back. She giggled and tossed her pom-poms around in the air. She lifted her pleated skirt to show everyone that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Everyone in the room gasped as they saw Monica’s shaven, tanned cunt.

” *giggle* So, like, that’s what a bimbo is and stuff,” she explained in a nasally, high voice, “They’re pretty much just like me *giggle*. So, like, can I suck your cock?”

I was happy to oblige.

As Monica blew me, her teased up blonde hair bouncing up and down in my lap, I turned to another woman.

“YOU! Pick someone for me to have fun with next…”

The older woman looked frightened. She looked to be about forty, but, being a member of this gym, she was looking great. “W-what?” she asked, her eyed filled with terror.

“I can’t choose who to pick on next, so I want you to choose.”

The woman alternated looking at my face and down at Monica sucking my dick. She glanced around the room, seeing all the frightened faces. She looked back at me, “I-I can’t do this…”

I sighed. I was losing patience with this one. “Fine, your IQ is now 40.”

The woman, who was a mother of two, suddenly dropped to the floor, laughing like an idiot. She couldn’t understand what these things were covering up her body, but she knew they weren’t comfortable. She tugged and tugged, not being able to figure how to get her shirt off. She finally ripped the neck straight down so her boobies could fall out. She drooled on herself as she discovered that she could make herself feel good if she stuck her hand down the front of her pants. She spent the rest of the day flicking her clit around in the corner of the gym, moaning and laughing to herself.

I spotted another navigator, “YOU! Guide me to my next victim.”

This guy looked like he was just getting started with gym life. He was still pretty skinny, probably weighed about 140. “Me?” he asked.

I nodded, pushing Monica’s head down further on my cock.

He looked around the room, not knowing if he was capable of choosing someone to have their life ruined or not. As his lip trembled, he realized it was the latter. “I…I can’t…”

I sighed, getting frustrated, “Fine, but your mother is now the only girlfriend you’ve ever had.”

Years of dating was soon erased from his mind, as memories of making out with his MILF of a mother were quickly added in. He remembered taking his mom to his high school prom. Afterwards, they had fucked in the back of her car (she had driven). Their romance had blossomed when he was about 16, when he had caught her naked in the shower. She had pulled him in with her, and the rest was history…

Now, I was getting really angry. When I get angry, I started doing drastic things. “Alright everyone. We’re going to find someone selfish enough to pick another person for me so they won’t meet a horrible fate themselves. All I want…is to turn a woman here into a ghetto Mexican whore. Can someone please choose someone for me? YOU!”

I pointed to a young pretty girl of 18. I could see on her gym bag that her name was Emily. It was stitched in loopy pink cursive on the front of the duffel bag.

I talked slowly for her to understand. “Choose. A. Girl. (or a guy if you want) For me. To turn. Into a ghetto Mexican whore.”

Emily immediately began crying. “I can’t do that!”

I tossed my hands in the air, “Well, fine then, your name is now Cum-Dumpster!”

Cum-Dumpster sucked in lungful of air as reality rewrote itself. Her parents had argued for a week before her birth whether to go with Emily or Cum-Dumpster. Since Cum-Dumpster was her mother’s idea, they eventually went with that. The couple had kissed and started planning Cum-Dumpster’s childhood. The kids in school had picked on Cum-Dumpster. She immediately remembered the awful things the kids would say to her:

Cum-Dumpster, Cum-Dumpster

Where to you dump your cum?

Do you pour it down you mouth,

or shoot it up your bum!?

They would laugh and laugh, pointing at Cum-Dumpster. Finally, she had gotten to high school, where her looks prevented her from any teasing. She had a place in yearbook for hottest couple (Cum-Dumpster and Ronnie). They had gone to get her driver’s license together, with Cum-Dumpster written right next to her smiling face. So, Cum-Dumpster was happy now. She would lay awake at night, fantasizing where her and Ronnie’s relationship would go after high school. Do you, Ronnie, take Cum-Dumpster to be your lawfully wedded wife…?

I do.

“YOU!” I shouted, pointing to a girl with fire in her eyes. “Pick someone before I turn you into a Mexican whore!”

The girl quickly pointed to a random woman, “No! Her! Pick her! Leave me alone!”

The chosen woman’s jaw dropped as she saw the finger pointing at her. Her friend standing beside her flew into a rage, “You get your fucking finger away from Jan, before I come over there and break it!”

Jan’s friend was named Tracy. They had been friends since high school; that had been over a decade ago. Now, they usually met together while their husbands were at work and went to the gym. Even though they would always share a cup of ice cream afterwards, they felt they were keeping in shape. Tracy was always known as the temperamental one. Jan was very laid back and casual about things. Confrontations were usually left up to Tracy. Last week, when Jan’s order had gotten messed up at the Burger Shack, it had been Tracy that had cussed out the Burger Shack employees.

When Tracy looked at Jan, she saw a very strange look in her eyes. “Jan?” she asked, concerned, “Jan, are you okay?”

Jan just cut her eyes at her friend, “Pshh… Yeah, I fine. Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout?”

Tracy’s forehead wrinkled as she watched her friend’s chestnut hair fade to black. Her eyes darkened and her skin became a deep tan color. Her nails lengthened and her shoes grew heels. A cigarette appeared in Jan’s mouth, along with a half-empty pack of Marlboro’s that appeared wedged between her waist and her now leather mini-skirt.

Jan spit on the ground and cocked her hip to the side. She shoved her cigarette back in her mouth and spoke around it, “Fuck, I gotta get to work.” She had a deep, cocky Latino accent now.

Tracy was shocked. She shook her head, denying what she was seeing. Her best friend was now some skanky, Mexican street whore. Any faint reminder that Jan was still inside of those dark brown eyes was nonexistent. Tracy looked at me with hatred. “You sonofabitch! What did you do to her!? Change her back?! You fuck! You FUCK!”

This little pistol was getting on my last nerve.

I thought back to something I had tried out once in Mexico. I had gone on vacation there years ago; had a few laughs, a few drinks, and played around with a few Mexicans and drunk college students. I remembered one of my favorite ideas and pointed at Tracy. Her face dropped, devoid of any emotion above that of an animal. Tracy could only conjure up the most primal instincts now. Before everyone’s eyes, her ears grew, her face elongated, and she fell on all fours. Just as a huge cock grew from between her legs, Tracy and Jan vanished into thin air.

Everyone gasped.

Hundreds of miles away, in a sweaty, musky Mexican bar, drunk businessmen cheered and high-fived as they laughed and took pictures of the skanky, Mexican street whore bent over while a horny donkey drilled her. “Donkey Shows” were now the central feature of Jan and Tracy’s lives…

“W-Where did they go?” came a fearful voice.

I looked up to see the girl who had volunteered Jan for transformation, still stroking Monica’s head. She looked like she felt horrible for passing her fate onto Jan. I calmly looked at her, “They’re in a better place…” I grinned, making sure that everyone looking at me shivered. “Would you like some closure?”

The girl shook her head, not even really sure what I was talking about.

“I think you need to feel better about yourself,” I suggested, “You know, so you don’t feel so guilty…”

She shook her head, “No. No!” She began to back up. “You said you’d leave me alone if I picked someon — !”

Suddenly, the girl was in a box.

At least, that’s what she thought.

I just erected four walls around the spot where she was standing. The girl found that she was naked. She inspected the walls surrounding her. There was no ceiling, yet she could see the ceiling of the gym above her head. She was trapped… But there were small, waist-high holes in the walls…

Darlene was an English major at the local University. She had planned to write for a newspaper. Some sort of opinion column, or maybe something with fashion. She hadn’t totally decided yet. She just knew she loved the college life. She wasn’t a partier. She liked the intellectualism. It was so much better than high school. Finally, it was cool to learn something. Sometimes, she wished she could stay a college student forever.

“Alright, boys. This little lady now has a new career. Why don’t you put her to work?”

I stood back and watched as all the men in the gym walked up to Darlene’s enclosure. They dropped their pants and stuck their dicks — big and small — through the halls along the wall.

Something tickled in Darlene’s mind as she watched all the cocks appear though the wall. She got done on her knees, like she did everyday, and began going in a circle, blowing each anonymous dick that had been presented to her. She smiled as she did her job. Nothing pleased her in the world a good dick-in-the-mouth. She remembered how she had wanted to write for a newspaper at one point. Then, for no reason whatsoever, she changed her mind. She now wanted to be a professional gloryhole girl! Cum dripped from her chin as all the cocks blew their load in her eager mouth. The thought of her overflowing tip jar outside kept her going as she went to the next dick in line. She wondered what time it was and when she would get off of work.

Funny, Darlene thought, there isn’t a clock or a door in this room… She didn’t dwell on it too long as she moved on to drain the next guys ball sack.

I yawned, seeing the sun setting outside.

“Alright, guys, it’s been fun,” I said, “But I really have to go — “

I was just about to make my way outside when, in the silence, I heard that beating bass music. I pushed Monica off of my cock, walked around Darlene’s work station, stepped over the dumb woman masturbating on the floor, and shoved Cum-Dumpster to the side to peer into the aerobics room to see the lines of woman through the glass wall, still sweating and kicking their feet in the air.

They had no idea what was going on.

For some reason, that really pissed me off.

These soccer moms and elementary school teachers all using their husband’s money to shrink the ass that hadn’t been the same since they had popped out a few kids hadn’t even bothered to see all the wonderful work I had done. They were all in their thirties and forties. I figured, for their rudeness, their homelife needed a drastic overhaul.

I shook my head, and snapped my fingers.

The bass music quickly changed from a poppy, motivating beat to a thumping, techno stomp. The women, including the instructor, stopped moving and looked around the room, wondering why the music had changed. Then, just as quickly as they had stopped, they all began swaying their hips side to side and running their hands over their body. The looks on their faces changed from confused to seductive.

Then, the changes began.

Theresa Hamilton felt her waist slimming and her ass shrinking. Her sagging breasts suddenly lifted and pointed straight out from her chest. Silicone filled sacs materialized inside them, giving her an extra fake looking EE cup. She wondered what was going on, and why her hair was growing and thickening the way it was, then she told herself to stop wasting time and to practice her routine. She needed to be at work in two hours. Her boss has told her not to show up until she had perfected her pole-dancing skills. She grabbed the golden pole that had appeared beside her and began swinging around it, running her naked, tan, tattooed, and pierced body over its cold surface.

The woman were becoming more and more voluptuous. Their bodies became those of Las Vegas strippers. Their clothes vanished to show their jiggling fake tits. They studied themselves in the mirrored walls to see any faults or mistakes they were making. Most of them were too arrogant to admit they needed help with their “dancing”, but, more money was enough motivation for them.

Sandra Miller felt her college education disappear as she fell into a split on the floor, making her ass bounce on the hard floor. The jolt sent the worrysome thought out of her head as she scolded herself for not grabbing her tits like she had planned to. The men want to see you grab those fake titties, Sandra, she scolded herself, no longer remembering what a logarithm was, nor caring.

Kelly Shepard looked over her shoulder as she shook her ass in the mirror. She could see the tattoo of her stage name Eternity branded on her right cheek, the tattoo that she had never gotten for the job that she had never done a day in her life. But, stripping was her life. At least that’s how she felt now. She slapped her ass to see how it was looking today. Satisfied, she started running her back up and down the pole.

I had turned all the aerobics bitches into slutty, uneducated strippers. Their kids and husbands would only remember their moms and wives as always being strippers. They would now get used to a nipple-pierced, tattooed, chain-smoking whore cooking breakfast in morning, instead of the pearl-necklaced June Cleaver that had been there before.

Walking toward the front door, I slapped Monica on the ass and told her to come with me. She giggled and grabbed my hand like a lost little girl and followed me out the door.

Fuck, I love my life…

A Family for Dr Gizmo – Part Two

Witchgirl and Flexi have been transformed by the mysterious Dr. Gizmo!

Not my work, stumbled on this in a backed up folder. Finally was able to locate the original author and site: Witchgirl on the now archived SuperStories.net

Read Part One here.

Chapter 3: A Family Affair

Dr. Gizmo checks the data on his instruments. All the readings are perfect. Flexi and Witchgirl have completely embraced their programming. Their bodies have stabilized. They are now no longer who they once were; they are now Trudy, otherwise known as Mommy Gizmo, and Jenny, otherwise known as Cheerleader Gizmo. “Digitron,” he says. “Download my family.”

Mommy Gizmo and Jenny Gizmo appear in the center of the room, Mommy Gizmo teetering on her 5 inch heels. Jenny Gizmo smiles and sighs deeply. Her new body feels absolutely great!

“Thank you, dear.” Mommy Gizmo says to her husband. “It’s so nice to have our family back together again!”

Jenny Gizmo looks down at herself. “Thanks for the great redesign, dad! I especially like what you did with my tits.”

“Jenny!” Mommy Gizmo says. “Nice girls don’t use the word ‘tits’!”

Dr. Gizmo grins. Jenny Gizmo smiles slyly. “Sorry, mom.” She turns back to Dr. Gizmo. “My breasts. I like what you did with my breasts.”

Mommy Gizmo nods approvingly. “That’s better, dear.”

Jenny Gizmo pushes out her chest a little more. She’s so proud.

Continue reading “A Family for Dr Gizmo – Part Two”

Changing the Rules – Asian Stereotypes

Taken from a CHYOA thread (with two minor edits).

Anna pulled her jet-black hair back into a ponytail and adjusted her glasses. She knew that the ponytail and the glasses, combined with her Asian ancestry, made her look like a tech-geek cliche, but she didn’t mind. Since she was a computer engineer, she’d pretty much accepted that she was living the cliche.

Her phone made a strange beep. She’d never heard that particular notification sound before, which was odd. She’d explored everything her phone could do within an hour of buying it.

“What’s this?” thought Anna as she looked over the app. “It’s got a note attached. ‘What the hel is ths, got it from stupid bfriend.’ Well, that doesn’t narrow it down, every girl I know thinks her boyfriend is an idiot.”

Anna scrolled through the app, but there didn’t appear to be any instructions. She tried to read through all the rules to see if there was a pattern, but there were thousands, maybe tens of thousands.

Then Anna saw one rule that stuck out. She couldn’t help editing it.

  • The perception that Asian women are submissive and docile, but also sexually promiscuous, is a stereotype.
Continue reading “Changing the Rules – Asian Stereotypes”

The Replacement by Mr Grey

Ami, the token overachieving, Asian High School senior, has found out she’s been made redundant. Now, her class gets to decide what niche she should fill.

Disclaimer: This is not my story. Check out my earlier post for an explanation and where to find more by this author.


Ami had everything figured out.

Having the brains and talent that she did, Ami didn’t have to worry.  Sure, she was stuck as a high school senior for now, but as soon as that was out of the way, Ami had plans.  She knew business school would be a breeze.  After she finished that up, she planned to jump right to the top of a big company.  Ami wanted to take control of some struggling company and show everyone just how serious she was.  She’d be the most revered Japanese-American business woman on the planet.  She’d make millions, smile on business magazine covers, and be loved over the world.

Having such ambition in high school can really be frustrating.  Of course, Ami did her best to always appear ahead of her class and her age.  She didn’t wear the normal high school attire.  In fact, she looked down on the simple, immature appearance of most of her classmates.  Ami preferred to wear her power suits to school.  If she didn’t look so young, one would assume she was a thirty year old business woman.  And, as long as people kept making that assumption, Ami was doing everything right.

The problem with being so mature and talented in high school is not being favored by the rest of the class.  Being prettier and much smarter than most of the school—including the faculty—created a very defensive attitude towards Ami by the rest of the school.  Ami wasn’t deliberately cruel.  She just didn’t associate herself with anyone dumber than her.  She just didn’t have the time.  Ami was a harder working girl, and such hard work can give the impression of arrogance and superiority.

Ami’s nickname was the Ice Queen.

When it wasn’t Ice Queen, it was usually just “bitch”.

These names didn’t bother Ami though.  She didn’t have time to let them bother her.

The afternoon that changed all of Ami’s plans was on a Friday.  The bell was ringing through the halls, sending all the students to their lockers.  Ami walked through the murmuring crowd of students, ready to go home.  As Ami walked through the halls, she noticed that she was being stared at quite a lot.  Students at their locker would look up at her and then quickly look away when Ami made eye contract.  What the hell’s going on?

That was when she saw her.

Continue reading “The Replacement by Mr Grey”