Heroes' Bimbofication: Whoreranger

With the wind at her back, Lyralei dashed through the forests, bow in hand. To others, she would seem a green streak, with a thick hood covering her thick mane of red hair.

The one known as Windranger only had one objective in mind: defending her homeland from the vile Dire who would defile it. Reports had come in of these creatures attacking the defensive structures at the edge of the forests and she had been dispatched to take care of the problem.

The ranger's sensitive ears picked up the sounds of combat nearby. Nocking an arrow, she crouched behind a bush, attempting to spot the threat.

Beneath one of the enchanted towers, scores of allied soldiers had perished. Lyralei would not mourn them, for they were simple constructs. At the foot of the tower, a handful of enemy minions had gathered, whacking at the defenseless monolith. The tower could destroy foes with powerful energy blasts, but it could only destroy them one at a time, giving ample time for the mindless automatons to attack and destroy the tower.

"Time for target practice," whispered the red-haired archer, pointing her bow towards the creeps attacking the tower. Sidestepping once to get a better angle, she closed her eyes, muttering a quick spell. As she opened her eyes suddenly, she let fly. The arrow, blessed with the forest's winds, shot forth. Any tree in the way was obliterated as the projectile flew through the air.

Every one of the constructs hit by the arrow died on the spot as it flew through every one of them. Those who were lucky enough to avoid the shot were quickly taken care of by the battered tower.

"Easy breezy!" Windranger said, standing in the forest's shade. It felt like she'd said those words a thousand times before.

Before long, she heard hoarse cackling from behind her. Turning her head to its source, she was greeted by the sight of a long line of jagged spikes rising from the ground towards her at an alarming speed. Managing to dodge the worst of those spikes, she nonetheless lost her footing as a small shard of stone erupted from the ground, wounding her leg.

From behind a tree, a small, frog-like man with purple skin appeared. The man's huge, demonic armed appeared completely out of proportion, exuding vast amounts of power.

Lion.

Windranger had seen the Demon Witch before and she had witnessed the power he possessed.

A devious grin spread across his fanged mouth as he pointed a finger towards her. "To hell with you."

That single, oversized digit started crackling with red and yellow energies as a beam of pure, hellish fire shot towards the incapacitated ranger.

There was nothing she could do. Lyralei closed her eyes and lifted an arm to her face to try and protect herself from the evil spell.

Yet, nothing came of it. There was no burning. No being torn to shreds by demonic magic. Nothing. Only silence accompanied by gentle birdsong.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She was in her room. Or, at least, it felt like her room. The memories were so fuzzy. Fuzzy like the pillows beneath her head.

The walls were painted a hot pink. Actually, almost everything was one shade or another of pink. She blinked, rubbing closed fists against her eyes to try and rid herself of that momentary confusion.

Lyralei sat up on the side of the bed, looking down at herself. Were her boobs always this big? She reached up to cup the enormous orbs, each one larger even than her own head.

"Oh my gosh, they were soooo small in my dream," the ranger thought, relieved that she still had these big, round boobies to play with and not the itty bitty titties. "I wouldn't be able to make anyone hard with boobs that small!"

She giggled to herself, noting how her huge, round tits overflowed somewhat from the sheer negligée she had worn to bed. The soft breeze coming from the open window brushed against her soft skin, causing her fat, juicy nipples to harden rapidly, tenting the pink fabric.

"Wait, that wasn't me."

A feeling of panic overtook the redhead, causing her to stand up walking to a nearby vanity, looking at herself in its mirror.

Something felt wrong. Everything felt so out of place. She needed a weapon.

Lyralei glanced around the room, hoping to find her trusted bow. Instead, all she saw were posters of hunky minotaur men, gossip magazines, and a collection of oversized dildos near her bed -- none of which appeared to be less than a foot long.

As though something from deep within her started tugging at her thoughts, she felt that panic being drowned by something else.

She needed to stuff herself full of the longest, thickest toy she had. No, she needed cock. She craved it.

Or did she?

She shook her head, pushing those intrusive thoughts aside with as much force of will as she could muster.

Her green eyes fell to the woman in the reflection. This was her... Yet, it wasn't.

The negligée she wore was short enough that it didn't even cover an inch of her bald cunt, already glistening in anticipation. Her hips and thighs had widened considerably, and her lips had become far more pronounced.

Not to mention her breasts, which had nearly quintupled in size, so round and firm.

It felt like she'd been reshaped into the perfect little breeding slut. Oh, how that term resonated well in her mind. How she loved thinking of herself as a little cocksleeve, waiting to be stuffed.

Shaking her head, the archer looked around, desperately searching for her weapon. Was this a dream? Was this her real life or was she confusing her dream's memories for her own?

Her heart began beating faster. She looked under her mattress, in the closet everywhere she could. She needed her bow. She didn't feel herself without it.

Falling to her knees, Lyralei sighed. In that moment of weakness, images began flooding her mind and she felt herself transported momentarily, spiritually, to another realm.

"COME, MY CHILD. SERVE."

Before her, sitting on a throne of obsidian, was the largest Minotaur she'd ever seen. The great, horned Titan stared down at her without a word, his gigantic, throbbing cock calling to her. That massive, veiny spire, well over two feet long, seemed like it was made for her.

No. She for it. She was made to serve the Elder Titan.

She crawled to him, only barely registering the hundreds of writhing women all about her. All made to serve, like she was.

The blue-skinned colossus simply stared at the scantily-clad ranger, starved for cock, and filled with nothing but desire to serve. His golden pupils followed her as she ascended the interminable steps.

Where was she? How did she get here? These questions mattered little, for she approached the Titan's overgrown prick.

Then, the ground was swept from beneath her and she was falling. Falling into the darkness she came back.

"YOU ARE NOT YET READY. YOU ARE NOT YET ONE WITH YOUR NEW SELF."

Green eyes opened to the same pink room she'd been in moments prior. The panic she'd felt previously had been replaced by an odd sense of... purpose?

Whoever this man was, he had answers for her.

He had... cum. So much yummy cum for her!

Another intrusive thought, she realized. This time, she felt it more difficult to shove away, heavier. This was her thought and yet, it felt like someone separate from her.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

Was she in some other woman's body? She had to be, for she had never been built like such a sex doll, with full, dicksucking lips and tits like overripe melons. And yet... This had to be her. This was her face, her eyes, her hair... This was her room. An overly pink and girly room, but hers, nonetheless.

A sudden moan escaped her mouth. She'd been playing with her nipples, teasing the sensitive nubs with thumb and index. Had they always been this sensitive? She felt her blood beginning to heat up as every nerve of her body burned with lust.

"Guh... what the fuck..."

Gathering every ounce of willpower she had left, Windranger stood up and headed to the nearest closet. Inside, between every kind of slutty outfit imaginable, was her typical green and yellow outfit. Unchanged.

If she was to go out, to meet this so-called Elder Titan, she would have to change into something a bit more appropriate.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It felt like a joke.

It had to be some twisted hell conjured up by the Demon Witch, Lion.

Inspecting herself in the mirror, Lyralei could tell just how the thing barely fit her anymore. Not only had she become much curvier, but she had also grown taller. While her form-fitting pants would usually go down to her ankles, they now only covered about half of her shins.

"Gah!" She turned around, inspecting her ass. The two huge mounds of flesh weren't even fully covered by the low-cut pants, showing off the flashy orange thong she wore. She'd found no other underwear in the multitude of drawers, and anything else in her wardrobe was even less appropriate than this.

At the front, her top showed the same indecent quantity of flesh. While she never shied away from showing off what little cleavage she had, the two fat tits held within the too-tight bra and tunic felt like they would burst out at a moment's notice. Struggling for space within the confines of that inadequate garment, the enormous, jiggling masses of pale flesh overflowed from the small cleavage window of that green garment.

"Fuck's sake..."

Pulling the hem of her shirt up to try and cover them up was useless. They were simply too enormous to hide or even conceal properly.

"YOUR NEW SELF IS IMPERFECT. THE RIFT MUST BE SEALED. MUST BE CLEANSED. SEEK ME OUT."

That voice again. Was this the Titan she'd remembered? That deep, rumbling voice made her squirm, feeling her innermost lust being ignited, as though her very essence had been turned into this creature's plaything, a toy to assuage lustful impulses.

Against her better judgment, she felt herself drawn to the voice, compelled to obey. Where else would she find answers? Where else would she find such a big, hard cock to coat her boobies in cum?

The thought felt appropriate. It didn't feel as out of place as previous ones did. Was she coming to terms with this parody of what she'd once been?

She felt at once excited and frightened by the prospect.

She made her way out of her tree-built home and down the steps, which had been secured to the mighty spruce's circumference by rope and wire, so as to avoid causing any damage to the ancient conifer. With each footfall, her heavy tits would bounce about, even with the tightness of her tunic.

To try and control the bouncing, the archer brought her hands to the mighty melons, trying to hold them in place until she reached the bottom of the wooden steps. But even as she reached the bottom and her high-heeled feet hit solid ground, she allowed her fingers to linger a bit longer on the gargantuan, jiggling masses.

"Am I wearing heels...?" thought Lyralei. "I don't even recall seeing these in my wardrobe as I was looking for my outfit. They're so out of place, impractical for any form of combat. Why would I even have high heels such as these?"

Lyralei's gaze was drawn to the shoes. A light green matching the rest of her look, the high block heels felt at home on her foot. She who had never quite felt herself the kind to wear these types of things now felt oddly comfortable doing so.

"Um! You've always had these shoes, dummy! Don't you remember? You just looove how it lifts your butt! All the cute boys love staring at those big, round butt cheeks of yours!" Another giggling voice, unknown to her, made itself manifest inside her mind.

"This is it," concluded Windranger. "I truly am going mad. I'm hearing voices again." Though the red-haired woman could not deny the truth within the voice's words...

The voice came again, as annoyingly cheerful as before. "Tee-hee! You're funny. I mean, I'm funny! Come on, let's go find some yummy cocks. There's plenty around here!"

She was not out to find any "yummy cocks", but it had been quite some time since she'd been with a man. The thought was appealing.

"Where would I go to meet... cute boys?" Windranger asked herself inwardly, attempting to send a message to that annoying bubbly voice inside her.

She found no answer in the long silence that followed. Not immediately, at least.

The giggling inside her mind returned after what felt like an eternity. "Ummm! Sorry, it took me a while to answer. Thinking's sooo hard, you know." The voice giggled again before resuming those vapid thoughts. "So, like, there's this super fun place that's pretty close. It's called the Horn's End Tavern. You love going there! It's always paaacked with all sorts of super cute boys that love buying us all sorts of yummy drinks!"

Lyralei shut the voice out, closing her eyes, squeezing them tight. Squeezing her breasts at the same time.

Her hands. They had remained glued to her fat, jiggling tits, drawing both masculine and feminine stares. Embarrassment caused her to pull her groping digits from the twin orbs. It was at that precise moment that she took note of just how much she craved hands on her tits. They were just so big, round and jiggly... Having someone, anyone, groping them in such a manner was just the way things were meant to be, were they not?

A giggle slipped from her plush lips as she started towards the tavern. She hadn't even asked the voice where this tavern was. She didn't need to. She was guided by some purpose greater than she was. A power greater than all of this was watching her, she felt. Guiding her.

But first, she needed something way comfier. Something to show off her new, totally sexy body.

As if in a trance, Lyralei made her way to the nearest clothing store, making sure to sway her hips with every step she took to capture the lustful gazes of those she crossed paths with. The small crowds gathered on the town's main street, it seemed, were not only human. Some of the monstrous races had seemingly mixed in with the usual crowds.

Deep inside, Lyralei felt unease at the sight of these beasts wandering about her town. She, who had fought against them for years... Or had she? Her memories were all so fuzzy. Either way, they would make good friends! And those bulges!

The archer licked her lips at the sight of them.

Clothes. Clothes! She had to focus.

She thought she knew where the clothing store was. Truly, she knew. But... there was nothing there. Turning left, then right. Then right again. Asking for directions once... then twice, thrice. She eventually lost count, never being able to remember those directions she'd been given. Remembering stuff was soooo hard!

After a long while, Lyralei reached a boutique named the "Secret Shop". It was a good thing the name was short! Long words made her head ache.

"Wait! What's happening to me? I'm not some airhead!" the woman screamed at herself inwardly. "I've never been unable to remember things, unable to remember directions. I'm a ranger. I live in the wilds, tracking things down is what I do! Finding the Secret Shop is something I've done thousands of times before. This is wrong, this is so wrong!"

Panic welled up within her. She almost felt as a passenger within her own mind, pushed aside by something else, someone else. Pushed aside by herself?

"Wrong?" The word was accompanied by a giggle, the redhead walking into the Secret Shop. "Wrong is, like, not accepting yourself! This is you, Lyralei! This is us! If you fight, well, um, things will just be harder! Why do you have huge titties, you think? You were made to be a horny fuck doll!"

She was greeted by an impossible quantity of clothing. From cute maid outfits to the tiniest, sluttiest bikinis imaginable, Windranger had much to choose from.

Looking through the multitude of outfits and items available, Lyralei felt her will fighting against itself. This clothing was not her and yet, it was. This was not who she was, who she had been! But things would be so much easier if she simply submitted, simply gave in. This new form of hers, it was made to fuck. That was its purpose. Making all sorts of big, yummy cocks happy. Why else would the Elder Titan have gifted her with tits so enormous and fat, cocksucking lips?

The Elder Titan. Yes. She had to choose an outfit to please him.

Making her way through the rows of clothing, Lyralei noticed the outfit for her.

Nestled between a cow print bikini and a set of sheer red lingerie, she spotted the green-and-gold she so often wore.

The shop owner, a lavender-skinned elf with long, purple hair, didn't even ask her to pay!

"Her boobies were so big! I wish mine would be that huge!" she said, reaching up to cup her own fat, wobbling tits as she skipped happily into the nearest changing rooms. "Odd that she gave the outfit to me before I even paid for it!"

Looking over the tag on the clothes hanger, the ranger giggled as she noticed that her name was written on it!

"Oooh! They made this outfit just for me!"

The thought never crossed her mind that something odd was going on. Not the mind of she who was in control, at least. The other part of her, the one that had been locked away, fought against the mind-shackles keeping her there.

Something was wrong. Everything was wrong! Windranger's innermost spirit tugged uselessly at the bindings, grunting with effort.

Like a passenger inside her own body, powerless to stop any of this, Lyralei watched as her Bimbo-Self began stripping, removing piece after piece of her classic outfit along with her underwear, replacing them with an overly skimpy bikini bottom-legging combination and a yellow, barely-there top.

With a moan, the red-haired archer reached down, allowing her long, manicured nails -- when did that happen? -- to slide down her toned stomach, cupping her burning, dripping gash. She was getting more and more excited as she imagined all the huge, throbbing monster dick she'd attract with this outfit!

"Wait -- I wasn't going to shop for clothes, was I? I was... I had to find this Elder Titan. I have to find him! I have to understand what is happening to me," thought Lyralei, gaining control of her body once more, shoving the bimbo's airheaded thoughts to the back of her mind with as much mental force as she could muster at that moment. "How in the Nine Winds is he going to take me seriously with this outfit?"

The woman looked around quickly, trying to find her old clothing. Desperation welled up within her yet again.

"You're not going to find your old clothes, dummy. You only have six item slots! Or was it nine? Either way! They're gone. Poof! Hee hee." That annoyingly bubbly voice at the back of her mind was taunting her, it seemed. "Like, the quicker you just let go and let me take control, the better you'll feel! Just stop struggling, gosh."

A sudden moan filtered past Lyralei's lips, a surge of pleasure striking her. She had kept her hand between her legs, idly stroking her wet folds and engorged clit.

Assaulted on all sides by all sorts of feelings, Windranger knew not how to react, how to feel about what she was doing.

Disgust at herself for doing such an act in a changing cabin, in an almost public setting.

Desire to keep going...

Panic that she hadn't even noticed her fingers doing it.

Hunger to replace her dexterous digits with something meatier.

Bewilderment in her eyes, a panicked Lyralei burst from the changing cabin, past the elf who'd given her the outfit. "Oh, that really suits you!" the purple-haired woman said, wide smile aimed at the archer.

But before she even had the time to add anything, the red-haired woman had run out the boutique, massive tits bouncing wildly within the inadequate strips of cloth that were her top, ass on full display, barely covered by her green thong. Were it not for the laced-up leggings she wore to complement the thong, one could have argued that she was simply walking around in her underwear.