In spite of the glaring sunlight and oppressive 90 degree heat, the outside felt so much cooler than the inside of the club, a nice breeze blew in from the south. The excruciating brightness of the sun forced me quickly across the parking lot, I stumbled, feeling high as fuck after pushing my compulsion on so many people. I picked my way through the beat up trucks and shabby cars in the shared space between the strip club and porn shop. The open sign flickered in the grimy window, I sprinted up the steps in my patent leather stilettos with about two grand in cash and a handgun in a small paper bag. I grabbed the door handle, pausing to pull the door open, I caught my still unfamiliar distorted reflection in the glass. Behind the midnight blue of my porcelain face mask, my eyes turned completely black, just like the people in the strip club I compelled to do my will just moments before.
I pulled the door open, staggering half blind in to the air conditioning, five steps beyond the check out counter and the anti-theft scanner, to the print and video pornography where the light was less brutal. Blinking my eyes repeatedly, I hoped I could return them to normal, somehow. I bumped right into someone's enormous rear end.
"Shit!"
She spat out in surprise as she dropped all her DVD selections. She was a half dozen years older than me, a bit shorter, she was still fairly tall, at 5'9", and must have been at least three hundred and fifty pounds. She kept her weight in a bra-less pair of tits as massive as mine, a rolling belly, rounded wide ass, and heavy thighs. Embarrassed, she squatted down, floundering to reach the DVD cases, the hang of her belly forced her knees wide to the side, spreading her legs open and her dress hiked up high to get down low enough to reach them. I'm positive her ass and pussy saw the light of day in the process of retrieving the cases. She held a fan of DVD rentals in her left hand, "Massive Dicked Mule Studs, Pity Fucked SSBBW Freak-shows, Fat Fuckers, Hardcore Humongous Bondage Heifers, Leftover Lovers, and Golden Shower Whale Humiliation."
"Fuck, I am so sorry! It was so bright outside, I can't see anything in here yet."
My voice lilted, pitched and sing-songy in the moment and almost husky the next. Covering my eyes, I cringed inwardly before focusing on the person I'd just smacked so hard that she'd dropped all her shit. She wasn't exactly the type I'd think of as a porno shop patron. If it weren't for the smut in her hands, I'd have thought she was part of a bridal party, dragged against her will by some naughty maid of honor who was bound and determined to embarrass all her friends. Given the DVD titles in her hand, I thought she was looking for porn about large women like herself. That would have made sense. It was the simplest answer. But when I looked into her eyes, suddenly, I saw more. I felt a deep seated, barely contained shame and pain radiating from the core of her being. The porn titles painted a sad picture, but she desired, needed something desperately. I felt her despair and longing for humiliation and degradation. The images that soon filled my thoughts, became so vile and vivid that I had to close down the connection. She turned and looked up at me, her eyes dilating as she looked in my direction. She blushed and squinted her eyes in shame, closing the fan of videos in her thick little fingers.
"Are you one of the dancers from next door?"
Looking down from my cleavage to my stilettos, she shifted her feet in her hippy sandals.
"What? No, I'm sorry, no. I've danced once, but I wouldn't say I'm a dancer."
Her thickly lashed eyes, with perfect eyeliner looked me up and down, as I smoothed down my dress, not so slyly trying to keep my bits covered.
"With that body, you should be a dancer. What are you doing here?"
I grabbed my barely contained tits with both hands, bouncing them up and down for comic effect.
"I'm trying to find some clothes that fit these torpedoes, and Macy's closed down their bimbo collection, so I don't have many options."
She smiled for a second, and looked down at the unfashionable garment that didn't quite contain the vast expanse of her own body. From my vantage point, I could tell her cleavage could hold a wine bottle or a small ham, above her belly.
"I have the same problem!"
Her response was so spontaneous, I giggled, making my tits quake. I did my best to not look directly at the man stacking the boxes.
Her eyes widened, staring at my undulating breasts.
"Are they real?!"
She looked closer checking for a scar or flaw.
"They're all me! I'm Syn."
~Your tits are as real as anything else about you.~ Sandra's voice sniped at me from inside my head. Out of habit, out of Sandra's habit, I extended my hand to her. As our hands touched, I felt the tendril of her thoughts connect to mine.
"Christine. Why are you wearing that mask? That's the real reason I thought you might be a dancer."
She gestured at herself, then my mask. I didn't have anything to gain by lying, and I might as well get comfortable with the truth. I'm sure that I'm going to have to give this explanation many more times in the future.
"My face is disfigured, from a procedure that went wrong, the mask is easier for people to look at."
I touched the porcelain with the fingertips of my left hand, and Sandra thought, ~when they gave you this body and fucked up your face.~
"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think you'll ever go home alone."
Her shoulders slumped, no poker face on this one, she expressed everything she felt across her entire body. Over her shoulder, a massive bull of a man shifted his muscles under his shirt, he moved dozens of small boxes filled with a large variety of sex toys. He seemed at least to me, to be watching her with a barely contained lust. Unlike the rest of the men I'd been in contact with, I couldn't get a read on him, not a glimmer of his emotions or desires. The fact that he didn't even glance at me, gave me more information than I needed, I wasn't his type.
And that was okay.
It didn't kill me. Contrary to the thoughts the voice of Sandra was still spitting at me, I didn't die. I was okay.
I was surprised that I was unable to sway him at all.
Still smiling, still engaged in the conversation with Christine, I set my hip and focused my mind in his direction. At first nothing noticeable happened, then he winced, like he had a sudden headache. He stared at me so hard I had to look away.
"May I ask you a question?"
When I asked, her shoulders rode up higher with anxiety.
"You mean like 'are you a dancer and oh, are your tits real?' "
The color returned to her cheeks, and she stole a glance down my cleavage before returning her gaze respectfully to my thick nipples as they rode up and down under the fabric as I breathed. I had ruled out the possibility that she was gay because of the big cock shit in her porn selections, and I found that even though my compulsion goes a long way to increase how desirable I am to people, she had to be bi at the very least. This body had a serious effect on Christine.
"Mmm, maybe."
"Shoot."
I bent at the waist all the way down to the floor, risking my tits falling out everywhere, and scooped up the one DVD she missed when they fell.
"What's 'Hucow Humpers' about?"
All the colors fled from her face, as I presented the DVD case to her. On the cover, a BBW woman, barely dressed in a pair of faded thready overalls, and cow ears held her thick nipple and a milk bottle, "A Phil her Up, production." Behind Christine, the large man with the huge septum piercing, who was obviously eavesdropping, fumbled a stack of boxes that scattered and hit the ground with a crash. I smiled when a steady stream of foreign profanity laced the air heading in the big man's direction. Christine shuddered, and her eyes rolled back when our fingers touched, she braced herself against them DVD case.
"Well... farmers kidnap huge titted women for their dairy, they feed them, breed them, and bulls fuck them day and night. The only times they don't fuck the fatties, is when the farmers hook their titties up to milking machines, and sometimes even then... The over time, these women transform, becoming physically more and more like cows. Can you imagine transforming like that?"
Frighteningly, yes, I could.
"I can't think of anything more humbling than having your own body taken from you and changed into something else, to become a means to someone else's end. The BBW porn stars make it look so real, in the beginning, they look so scared. As they transform, it's so gradual, the production value is amazing, you see how obsessed they get for cock, how much they need to be fucked! At the end, they leave them in a corral and they act like empty headed cows. I've rented it five times, now. It's my favorite DVD, I should just buy it, I've looked for 'Phil her up' productions and I can't find them. God I want to get fucked by a bull."
This was the most animated I'd seen her, her eyes blissful, and almost normal since I reined in my compulsion. It was a muscle, this power, a muscle I was learning to flex.
"Bulls like that big guy over there?"
She blushed all the way through her cleavage. She laughed self consciously, her nipples hardened visibly.
"Um, yeah..."
The big guy vanished, reappearing with more boxes of sex toys. Christine inhaled deeply looking over at him.
"That's a pretty fantastic premise. Do you like that kind of thing?"
Still watching him work, she lied to me.
"*I DON'T KNOW.* No one's ever wanted me enough to keep me."
I reached out to her, holding her by the wrist, I could feel her pulse under my thumb. The words of her lie stood out to me like they were written in red ink.
"Christine, Be a sweetheart and tell me the truth. Do you *Like* that kind of thing?"
She started to sweat, grind her thighs together and rub that hand full of DVD cases against her nipple. She cried.
