Life Changing Lippy

It had been in the lipstick. Something the company had added to their recent batches. Perhaps it was in the blush, too - or maybe in the eyeliner. Fuck, maybe it was in the whole cursed lot of it - she couldn't know. All she knew was that, once she put on that first, fateful coat of glistening, tingling red lipstick, watching herself in the mirror as it clung to her lips, soaking into them, and puffing them up in front of her very eyes...

She needed more.

It had been a sample, and so there wasn't much at all for her to try, just a few days' worth. At first, she had watched, amazed as the red gloss had plumped up her lips, enjoying the sensitive tingles it brought her mouth as she had watched them grow in the mirror. It had to be the best damp lip plumper she'd ever seen and then some, she had thought - and the sensation! It was all she could do to stop herself from putting on a third coat, especially after moving that tiny stick around her mouth a second time, feeling the fresh wave of tingling, warm little waves as her mouth once again puffed up beneath the glossy coating. She had managed to leave it behind on the counter with some effort only for as long as it took for her to see her reflection again - which was only about ten minutes. Once she'd caught sight of her puffy, plump face, she hadn't been able to hold off.

In hindsight, she wasn't sure why - she wasn't really a fan of plumpers, and not a fan of red gloss lipstick at all. She'd only taken it because it had been free, and in the world of expensive makeup, you

never

turned down free samples - they could get you through a last-minute date or a rushed emergency visit or just a messy, unflattering day when you needed it most. At first, she had only really intended to try it on herself at home to see how it looked and felt. It looked good, she had to admit, and felt amazing - but she couldn't work out why she struggled to resist it so much, why she yearned to apply more all the time, until she had wiped the very last vestiges of it from the bottom of the tiny, single-use applicator.

She had had a long night that night, barely sleeping, her huge mouth so big that keeping fluids in had become quite the challenge. It hadn't stopped tingling, only growing more intense as the hours dragged by, and she had been ashamed to admit that the feeling had eventually translated into an arousal that had driven her to a heated, needy, squirming, gushing mess in her bed, as she lay there, gently touching her gleaming, engorged lips, feeling the waves of warm electricity that emanated from even the tiniest touch. She wasn't one to squirt, but the wetness that had emanated from her body that night had been... Well, there had to be

something

special about this damn lipstick, that was for sure.

And so, the next day, when her face had returned to normal and her lipstick cupboard not magically refuelled itself with more of the glossy stuff, she made a point of going back to the store to pick up a new tube. The place had been packed. She couldn't remember it being this busy the day before but figured that perhaps she was here at a busier time than usual today. Worried that they might not had had any stock left, she lined up quickly - and an hour later, she was walking out of the building, one four-pack of glossy red lipstick clutched tightly in her hot little hand, a bargain, day-only sale freshly availed to her.

That afternoon, she rolled the lipstick on once more, watching in amazement as her face puffed up beneath the glossy, shining red coating. She wiped the lipstick around and around and around, watching the flat edge as it smeared over her lips, intent on the way it pressed into her skin, smoothing over the tiny ripples in her lips as it left a tingling red trail in its wake. It made her look shiny, like her lips were made of plasticine; and she had to admit, it was kinda fucking hot.

The bathroom door banged as she fell against it, the lipstick tube discarded on the sink as her hand slipped over her chest, descending into her pants with lust. Ten minutes later, a soft wet sound emanated from her tiled bathroom floor as the quivering girl ejaculated through her clothes, squirting a concentrated jet through the fabric, droplets pooling beneath her shuddering ass as she came.

A week passed her by. When she next went out for more lipstick, the woman looked completely different. Where before she had been a cute, youthful red head, a short crop of loose, wavy orange hair hanging about her face and an average, modest body beneath it, curvy and attractive yet not extremely endowed in any particular way, now she was buxom and voluptuous, her breasts filling the tight shirt she wore, her waist curving and full. She had deliberately put on something smaller than she could fit in, and the shirt pulled up over her stomach, revealing her navel. The pants stretched around her ass, and she wore her favourite party heels; a pair of pink six-inchers that curled her calves outward and accentuated her already generous backside. Where before she had had wavy orange hair, now she was a salty blonde, her hair six inches longer than it had been and loose about her neck. And her lips—her lips were plump, full, and a bright, shining, rubbery red - and lacking any lipstick.

'Like, I just need more,' she said to the cashier as she leant over the countertop, her generous cleavage popping as she waved one foot up in the air behind her, 'you know, the red stuff, the tingly funny stuff. Just, like, check the back or something?' She said, playing with one lock of blonde hair, her puffy face making her speech sound slightly clipped. 'I'm just like, despera- depser- despit- I just really need more, okayyy?'

But though the meek cashier searched, she could find no more "tingly red stuff" in the back, much to the newly transformed woman's chagrin. She turned, huffing, her buoyant chest bouncing this way and that as she blew stray locks of hair from her face, her ample lips curving as she tried to think hard.

'B-but,' the cashier had said then behind her, making her turn back again, 'I do have s-something you might be more interested in.' She gestured in a direction that led further into the shop. 'Shall we?'

Unaware of a reason to say no, and single-mindedly focussed on getting more of the "tingly red stuff," the blonde woman followed the shorter girl as she walked towards the rear of the store, until they came to a corner where row upon row of colourful clothing sat hanging from racks and shelves. Latex, neon, fluff and frills in pink, orange, purple and green - anything bright and skimpy one could think of hung here, waiting to be tried on. A few other women, all generously endowed and equally as dumb-and-blonde, wandered around, variously lifting rubber skirts or shallow lace bras into view, eyeing themselves in mirrors that seemed to surround the place.

'You will pick something appropriate to wear,' the young woman said, her voice no longer meek and uncertain. 'Once you are dressed as you should be, you will be called.' And with that, she left - leaving the bimbo to her clothes shopping.

Nearby, another woman, whose new blonde hair still showed a little dark at the roots where some follicles had not yet turned, finished pulling a shining, stretchy latex shirt over her chest, adjusting and working it over her enormous bosom until it clenched it tightly, showing off both mounds in all their hot pink glory, two erect nipples visible at their peaks. As if on cue, a door in the rear of the area opened, and someone emerged. 'Gloria.' They said simply, gesturing for her to approach. She did so, and the stranger closed the door behind her.

Gloria did not emerge again.

Fifteen minutes later, Gloria was posting on the bonnet of a Ford, the schoolgirl dress she had picked out for herself spread wide around one raised knee as she rested her heel on the bumper, her bare womanhood on view for all to see. She smiled, threw peace signs, waved and giggled as flashes flared and camera lenses clicked.

Then the bidding started.

When it was all done and Gloria had been purchased, she tittered out of the building, hand in hand with her new owner.

Who promptly spread her in the back seat of his Mercedes, and plundered her wet depths, enjoying the puffy, tender pussy below before availing himself of her equally puffy, equally soft mouth, finishing in a shuddering fit right at the back of her whore throat, while her generous face suckled and pressed against his skin, thick and warm around his throbbing cock.

The dumb little bimbo just giggled and tittered, cum coating her enlarged, reddened lips and gleaming wetness still clinging to her thighs and cunt as he drove her home.

Twenty minutes after Gloria departed, Tiffany—for that had been her name, prior to her conversion—wobbled in her heels as a young twenty-something in a stained tie and untucked shirt groped her backside. She stepped into his expensive car, and her thick, juicy lips were sliding wetly along his erection before they had even left the carpark, the thrum of the powerful engine vibrating her similarly slick pussy lips he drove her home.