Internally, Dan was screaming. Externally, he, or rather she, was the picture of poise and sex appeal, perched on her office chair and humming a little tune as she carefully filed the nail of her big toe. Her leg was cocked so to give everyone walking by the perfect view of her skirt riding up her silky thigh. “Will this ever fucking end?” Dan moaned internally, trapped behind the perfectly made-up smiling mask of this Latina hottie.
He thought back to the events that led him here. He had always an asshole to the women at work, but he must have crossed a line when he had told Mariana to “go back to Mexico”, as her eyes flashed with an eerie purple light. Dan had then doubled over in agony as his stomach gurgled and twisted, bones grinding and popping as his entire skeleton compressed. His six foot two male body shrank to a petite feminine build, waist crunching in as his hips cracked and flared into an hourglass curve. The horror coursed through his veins as rich caramel pigment flooded his skin from head to toe, leaving him hairless and several shades darker. He howled in anguish as his cock and balls shriveled, searing pleasure surging through him as the flesh inverted into a slick pink slit sitting between his now shapely thighs. Hips jerked instinctively, a rush of natural lube flooding his virgin fuckhole. Up top, his once barrel chest caved as ribs cracked and realigned to create a slim cage for his now-fluttering heart. In their wake proud tits ballooned, perky handfuls tipped with wide dark nipples that strained against his shirt. Another anguished cry choked off into a sultry moan as the changes crackled in his throat, voice box shifting to a feminine pitch. Full lips like ripe cherries replaced his once thin mouth, plumping for cock sucking. High cheekbones and a pert nose emerged in an exotic, alluring visage. His close-cropped hair lengthened and slithered down his back. As the waves of silky hair settled around his face, his humiliating transformation into a Latina was complete
But it wasn’t just his body. After that day, and despite all attempts to resist, his body moved on autopilot, acting much like you’d expect a bimbo to behave. Against his will, she sauntered into the office in fuck-me heels, manicured acrylic nails clicking on her desk as she sat and crossed her smooth legs. And here she remained, touching up her pedicure without a care in the world while Dan struggled futilely for control, for an ounce of his old self. But no, his hips swayed with Latin spice when he walked now, his voice was a husky, flirtatious purr. He was bimbo putty and he couldn’t do shit about it. He could only desperately wonder if and when this curse would end. He wasn’t sure he could handle another round of batting his lashes at their manager, Mr. Peterson. The way the man’s eyes raked over this bombshell body made Dan’s stomach turn. Or… was that actually arousal he was feeling? No! That was impossible. He was straight damnit! Even as his thoughts raced, his body continued to act of its own volition, blowing on his fresh paint job and admiring the fuck-me red shade. He could practically feel his IQ dropping with each vapid giggle that bubbled its way up his throat.
Inside he sobbed and begged to any god that would listen to change him back, to end this curse that had stolen his manhood, his dignity, his very identity. But no salvation came. Only the steady click-clack of his stilettos as this cursed vessel carried him simpering to Peterson’s office, hips swaying hypnotically. He could already picture what would happen once that door closed behind him. Could already feel phantom hands groping his tits, his ass, moving his little slut skirt up. He knew his body would moan and shiver, begging for more even as Dan screamed internally. He’d watch in mute horror through eyes clouded with lust as Peterson bent him over the mahogany desk, tearing his lacy thong aside. And god help him, he knew his traitorous pussy would be soaking wet, ready to welcome the invasion of that white cock, to squeeze and milk it like a good little slut. He’d throw his new fuckdoll body back on his dick, splitting his cunt open as he claimed him as the office bicycle he was now becoming. The puta programming would make him beg for it, plead to be bred in high-pitched Latina English, even as Dan howled and wept.
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