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Sometimes, there can be a fine line between romantic and frightening. Chris had found that he didn't care about that line any more. A year. Moving two towns over. An extra hour to get to work. And then it was suddenly all for nothing? They were just over? He wasn't buying that. He'd tried the 'whatever I did, I'm sorry'. He'd tried letting her have some space and asking her a few days later. It was then that she'd told him it was time for him to get his things moved out of her apartment.

And really, that was the trigger. That was where he'd snapped. If he couldn't hold onto her, what did it mean for other girls? For his whole love life? For one, both were nonexistent outside of his ex-girlfriend. Was he defective as a guy? He was going to prove that he wasn't. He was going to make her want nothing but him.

That was the explanation for the rented room across the alley from her apartment, for the order that he'd placed online, the box filled with wires and knobs and settings that he'd fiddled with, then snuck into her A/C vents, for the cameras that were set in tiny, hidden places, installed while he was moving out the last of his things. He'd made a copy of the key, he could always sneak back in and swipe them if things weren't working.

Chris sat in the chair, one arm over its back, binoculars to his eyes. The lights flicked on in her apartment, and through the sheer curtains he could see movement inside the apartment. Then, he turned toward his computer, and tapped the key to bring up the living room video feed.

Megan swept the door closed behind her. Her day of running errands had been uneventful, which made her happy. It meant that her life was sliding back toward something that felt like normal.

"Hey there, Aldous," she said.

Megan looked down at the gray fluff coiling itself around her feet. He meowed a few times at her. She reached down and scratched behind his ear, but shook her head.

"No, it's not dinner time for cats yet."

Megan wasn't the sort of girl anyone would be going crazy for, but she had an earnest cuteness that matched her soft demeanor and light frame that left her the sort of girl who you could get a crush on and write a sappy poem for. As a research assistant, she had little need to dress up, but she still looked cute even without spending half an hour on her looks every morning.

She popped open the refrigerator to find something for her own dinner, and picked out some leftover spaghetti from a few nights back. She scooped the mass of noodles into a bowl, then paused. She sniffed the air. She leaned down closer to the spaghetti and sniffed again.

"Well, spaghetti's fine. Must be the A/C," she said to herself.

She put the pasta in the microwave and turned it on. The living room was only a few feet from the kitchen, so she walked to the sofa, sat down, and turned the TV to the evening news.

While Megan listened to the story, her hands crept down to the hem of her shirt and gently curled her fingers around it, then lifted it up off her head in a smooth motion. She tossed her hair, letting it fall back onto her shoulders, then moved her hands back down to her chest.

Her short but neatly manicured nails slid over the small mounds. She shifted how she was sitting in the sofa. Her heels were more firmly planted against the carpet, and she was leaning back slightly. Her fingers tugged at the edges of her bra. Her nipples stretched forward against the silky but sturdy fabric.

Whatever trance she had been in was broken as the microwave began beeping. She stood up, bra hanging lower on the heavier mounds. She walked back to the microwave as if she she always went around at home with just a bra on, and peeked inside. The pasta didn't quite look ready, so she put another minute on the timer and started it again.

"Ugh, really?" she said under her breath.

Megan shot a faint frown toward the TV, and grabbed the remote to flip through the channels until she got to entertainment news. She set the remote down, and lightly bit her lower lip. She shifted her weight forward and leaned against the sofa. She ran the broad side of her tongue between her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered three times, and the third time they looked thicker and darker. She was starting to breathe more deeply. She smacked her lips softly. Her lips were looking flush, tender, softer. Her jaw went slack, and she slowly ran the tip of her tongue in a circle around her mouth. She closed her mouth and pouted her lips. Gently plumped, brushed with a deeper red... Then the microwave began to beep again.

Megan got up, and on her way back to the microwave, dropped her pants on the floor, leaving her in just her socks and underwear. Absently, her hands slipped behind her, brushing over her hips. Her nails dragged against her hips as she gently scratched around the waistband of her panties. As she stretched the waistband with her hands, her hips were shifting outward to make use of the extra room. A gentle sway found its way into her step.

From the microwave, she removed the spaghetti, then tossed a spoon in the bowl and began to walk back to the sofa. In the time it took for her to get there, the sofa had gone from worn plaid weave to crisp black leather, while the leftover spaghetti twisted, swelled and split into leftover takeout kung pao chicken. The stove and oven were looking more and more out of use.

Megan dropped down onto the sofa, bouncing on the softness of her ass. Her half-inch glossy nails pushed the strands of hair out of her face, leaving small lighter marks that spread into changing streaks with repeated brushing. Her hair kept wanting to fall into her face as she jabbed at her dinner with chop sticks.

Chris's heart was pounding, rooted to his video feed as he watched Megan slowly becoming the sort of girl who would be simply addicted to his cock. He didn't care that she was looking less and less like herself.

On its way from the bowl to her lips, a piece of chicken slipped from her chopsticks, and fell into the cleavage her lacy lingerie bra was holding snugly. Megan pouted and sighed, setting the bowl and chopsticks down. As she got up to get a napkin, she flicked the channel off of the entertainment news show and onto a reality show with juicy trumped-up sex and drama to keep her amused.

On tiptoes in her stockings, Megan grabbed a napkin from the counter, wiping off her nails and her soft breasts. She tossed the napkin into the trash, then stood there, facing the TV but slowly moving her hands over her breasts. Her nails dug in against the skin. Her slender fingers squeezed her heavy tits. Her fingertips slid toward her nipples, pinching and tweaking them gently. She looked as if she couldn't see how the mounds were swelling out into her hands.

When the TV went to commercial, Megan let out a deep, warm breath. Her hair was losing its straightness and growing more wavy as the brunette color leeched from it, looking lighter and longer still. She crossed into her bedroom, more dimly lit than usual, with a tiger-stripe blanket on her bed, and drew something long from her bedside table.

Megan sat back down in front of the TV, breathing deeply of the scent that no longer even registered to her mind. With one hand, she reached up to the corner of her lips, feeling her smooth purple nails graze across the tender pillows, and licking them almost as if she knew it would cause her lips to pout even more. With the other, she pushed down her panties, and began to push her favorite vibrator inside of her.

Chris would have loved to know what she was feeling, but her face said it all. Her eyes went unfocused, glazing over, mouth sliding open. Then her eyelashes were fluttering, dark eyeliner tracing along the outlines of her eyes, turning her gaze more striking, more dramatic, more feral. Her cries started short and chopped, then deepened into lower, longer moans as more of that shaft disappeared inside of her.

Megan's stockings were patterned with leopard-print, and the colors were becoming stronger. Her feet, curled in pleasure, were held that way as the soles of high-heeled shoes formed beneath them, furthering the transition from stockings to boots. All over her house, muted decor was becoming wilder, like the sort of girl Chris had secretly wished Megan had been.

Her wide hips moved against the thick, buzzing shaft deep inside of her. Her long, tiger-striped nails held it steady. Her mouth was spread wide into an O, slowly contracting as her lush, glossy pink lips swelled, becoming able to suck like none other. Her frizzy hair pushed back behind her head was a wild mane of bright blond that bounced and shook around her.

And her breasts. Bouncing with every motion of her hips. Thick nipples, stiff and proud, tender to the lightest touch. And the size, they were...huge. Far more than just a handful any more. Each was giving her head a run for its money, and winning.

Then she orgasmed. It was wet and hard, leaving her squirming and crying out names and cursing while juices ran down her thighs and beaded on the leather of the couch. She laid out, exhausted, letting the vibrator switch off and slowly extracting it from between her legs.

"Shit...ohh...girl, you need to get fucked," Megan groaned.

Chris was simultaneously awed and frozen, suddenly struck by a fear that she was going to see him at the window and get freaked out and he wouldn't even get a chance with that amazing wild sexpot his ex had become. But there was no need to worry. She wasn't going to be very observant from now on.

Megan swung her hips in a strut as she walked into her bedroom, then curled her lips around her fingernail to suck on it lightly. She already had on boots, so she went to her closet to get herself into some more clothes. She decided on a pair of tight pink shorts, clinging snugly to her hips and ass, and a leopard-print bikini top with pink trim around the edges. The top was little more than a pair of triangles stretched across her huge tits, and she wore it without a bra, making the bumps of her nipples all the more visible.

Clicking in her platform heels, Megan headed to the other end of her bedroom, bending down over the terrarium where she kept her pet python. Without even a hint of hesitation, she coaxed the snake into her hands and lifted its head up towards hers.

"Lucy, mommy's going out for a bit of fun. Be good while I'm gone!"

Lucy flickered her tongue at her owner, and Megan gave the snake a light kiss on the snout, before letting her back down and closing the grate over the cage after tossing in a few dead mice. Chris had wanted a wild girl, and the device had more than done its job.

Chris held his breath as the phone rang, watching on the screen as Megan dug her cell phone from her purse and picked up.

"Um, like hi?" she asked.

"Hey, it's Chris!" he said.

He bit his lip. He didn't want to sound too excited and freak her out.

"Oh, hi Chris! What's up?"

"Look, I know things have been all kinds of crazy but I just wanted to ask...if you'd like to meet up with me sometime, or I could come over, and we could cuddle, or maybe a bit more," he said. He approached it hesitantly, not sure quite how open Megan had ended up.

"Aww, sorry sweetie but I was being super serious when I told you I wasn't into guys. And like, it's still the same. Otherwise I'd totally suck your cock, but I'm gonna go find some cute girl. Kay, see ya!"

He pulled his phone away and looked down at it, mouth open as the pit of his stomach dropped through the seat of the chair. All of that. All of that, and she was still saying she was gay? There had to be something wrong with that device. There...just had to.

Once she had left her apartment, Chris made his way across the street, letting himself into the apartment building, then into Megan's apartment. It was nothing like he remembered, obviously, but the layout had stayed the same. Just that instead of a poster of whatever artist it was she was fond of, it was a big pin-up photograph of Megan on a bearskin rug that sat above the A/C vent.

He didn't have his screwdriver with him, so while he could pop off the grate and reach in to mess with the machine, he couldn't take it out. He turned on his flashlight, pointing it in so he could see the dials and controls, flicking them, twisting them, clicking them through the settings to try to see if he'd left something unset that would have kept Megan from realizing that she wanted him.

"Aw, fuck," he said through his teeth.

He drew back his hand from the machine and looked at the cut on his finger. A bit of warm blood was dripping onto the metal bottom of the vent. He got up, pressing his fingers around the cut, and hurried into the bathroom to wash it off and bandage it up.

Bent over in front of the sink, he felt a faint tingle run up his spine, but he barely bothered to care what it was. He was going to patch himself up, set that machine up as high as it would go, then slip back out and hope that it made Megan realize how much she wanted him. He put on a bandage and began to clean up, but by the time he'd dabbed up the blood and tossed the wrapper in the trash, the bandage was loose, so he had to put another one on, making sure again that it was tight around his more slender finger.

What was really happening to him didn't really click together until he looked up at the mirror, and saw a feminine face looking back at him, hair reaching down toward his chin in length, and with a noticeably girly gasp as he stepped back from the sink.

"What the hell? Oh, no. No no no," he said.

Chris rushed back to the vent, laying down on his back to reach the machine and trying to switch off every setting. It wasn't supposed to affect guys. This piece of shit was like super defective.

"Fuck," he said, immediately sitting up as he heard his own thoughts. This was bad. And just for compound badness, he could hear voices behind the front door of the apartment. Giggling. Megan was coming back. He pushed the grate back into place, and as quietly and quickly as he could, retreated into the spare bedroom where he had put most of his things when living with Megan.

He pushed his ear up against the door, swatting away growing lengths of dirty blond hair and trying to keep his breathing calm as he listened to the two female voices coming from the living room. Come on, go into the bedroom so I can sneak out, he thought.

Chris backed away from the door slowly and took a seat on the bare bed, trying to calm his heart and collect his mind. He was going to get out, he didn't need to worry, he...wait a minute. No. He reached down between his legs. No no no. He slipped his hands underneath his pants, and felt nothing but panties covering a soft, warm, and very female mound.

Chris was a girl now, and they were still in the main part of the apartment, talking away and providing no clues as to when they would be slipping off to Megan's room. She looked down at her fingers, able to watch the slow growth of acrylic nails, while around her, the muted tones of the room were beginning to morph into pastel pink. She looked down at herself, and her modest bust was held within a pink baby tee with a glitter heart across the chest.

"No, this is stupid, stop it!" she said sharply under her breath.

She was affecting nothing, though. Her waist was being pinched in, and she could feel it, just like she could feel the shifting of mass to her wider hips. With the slow growth of her hips, stretching her pink sweatpants, she couldn't help but think how good they'd be for birthing, and what a shame it'd be to see them go to waste.

"I-I don't want to get pregnant!" she said quickly, terrified and indignant at once.

She could almost hear her mother's voice telling her that when she met the right guy, she'd definitely be ready for it. And the thoughts of wearing nothing but an apron, of pleasing her husband as thanks for bringing home the bacon, they were popping smoothly into her mind.

She knew though that they were fake, that she didn't have a mother like that, that big tits didn't run in her family, but it was so real, even next to the memories she knew were the real deal. Chris reached up, hefting her soft breasts, pushing her legs together and letting out a reluctant moan.

Chris's body was quickly responding to her new narrative, even despite her attempts to squeeze it back down to a more moderate size. Chris was the all-American, corn-fed gal, and she had the curves to match, even if it made her a bit pudgy and she still wasn't as busty as Miss Two-Ton-Titties Megan.

"Like, cut it out! I'm not a farm girl! I'm...uh..."

Chris's mouth went slightly slack, letting her lips plump up while she tried to remember the big-city names that suddenly escaped her. The girly decor in her room was expanding, her wardrobe filling with all sorts of clothes, while her own clothes were looking smaller and smaller on her own body.

"Y-you can't...I'm not..." she began to stammer to no one, her voice warmed by a light injection of a faint but sweet accent.

She grabbed at her hair twisting itself up into big golden braids, but with her long pink nails, it was useless to try to do anything. Her high-heeled sandals dug in against the carpet, squirming and tugging at her pants shrinking up her soft, thick thighs.

As Chris's eyelids fluttered, the room dissolved into a haze, and she fell back onto the bed, legs spread wide. She couldn't see who it was, but she could see a shape above her and feel something moving into her. Each thrust pushed away her thoughts of having grown up here in the city. In their place was rushing in thoughts of her farm, of her mother raising her and her sisters on her own, of striking out on her own to come to the big city and make it as a model or something.

"No!" Chris cried out in vain. As she struggled, her breasts were only pinning her down more. As she was spread wide open by the unseen force, she could only think more of what her mother told her about how girls were supposed to act.

Chris was hanging on. Despite all odds, she was keeping herself together. Until she felt the explosion of warmth, wetness, washing over her and filling her. Her lips curled perfectly. Her eyes were a sparkling brainless blue. Deep between her heavy breasts, snug in the pastel pink tank top with a glittering heart in the center, was a tiny little rhinestone cross.

Chrissy reached up, gently laying her fingers across the cross, having to reach around her soft and so delightful and fun to touch breast to do so. She licked her lips and let out a giggle.

"Just y'all wait, I'm gonna find a guy to do that to me all day," she said.

Chrissy pulled herself up onto the tall heels and wiggled her way over to the door, feeling like a glass of milk after all that.

"Like, hey Chrissy!" said Gigi, the girl that had once been Megan.

Gigi sat up and looked over the couch, looking as wild and feline as ever. Some girl with blue streaks in her blond hair and bright blue lipstick on her thick, plump lips peered up over the edge of the couch.

"This is my new girlfriend, Thorn!" Gigi said, nodding over at the 'alternative' bimbo.

"Oh, uh, hi there Thorn, always nice to meet Gigi's friends," Chrissy said, and put on a brightly polite smile. "Y'all want me to make some iced tea for you or anything?"

"Sure thing!" Gigi said to her.

Gigi and Thorn ducked back behind the couch, and Gigi stretched out on top of the girl she'd met at the club.

"She's my roommate. She gets kinda upset about how I like girls but she's toootally into girls too, I just know it," Gigi explained.

"We've so got to do a threesome with her," Thorn said.

The two girls grinned and giggled together as Gigi moved her lips back to Thorn's nipple, sucking and teasing it lovingly, and moaning out a thanks to Chrissy as she set the two iced teas down on the coffee table. The bimbo took a long look at the two on the sofa, bit back a moan, then hurried back toward her room, legs gently pressed together.

Within the A/C ducts, the machine wound to a stop. Its power supply was depleted, and it switched into a recharge mode. It took quite a while to get its power back, and Chrissy and Gigi had since moved out by the time it was recharged.

Alyssa breathed in slowly, thinking faintly that she smelled something odd just as the A/C had kicked on, then sighed, shrugged, and licked her lips.