52: Changes

A few hours ago...

Sarah paced, clutching her phone.

Mia had been missing for an entire day. She didn't even respond to her messages.

From last night onwards, the anal plug app showed that she was still inside the university but it didn't make any sense for Mia to not respond.

The dot indicated Mia’s last known location—the sports department building, where she currently stood.

On entering the class, she finally found her bag, drenched in piss. Her IDs, clothes, anal plug and a pair of torn underwear inside. But no sign of her.

'Mia... Where are you...? What kind of trouble did you get yourself into?'

Grabbing the bag, Sarah dialled Kate, filling in on Mia's situation.

Kate’s calm voice steadied her nerves. “...I’ll come pick you up.”

Thirty minutes later, Sarah sat in Kate’s car, anxiously relaying whatever she knew, hoping something would help. Kate listened quietly, her expression unreadable. “It's all right. I have her location,” she said finally, her tone clipped.

The car pulled up outside the Circle nightclub. They walked inside, following the location on Kate's phone.

Pulling a few strings, they finally managed to enter the VIP section discreetly.

Neither of them could believe their eyes after seeing Mia at the centre of the table getting showered in cum.

Just as Kate was about to step in and stop it, Tiffany approached them, filling them in about their new star - Karma.

From a distance, they watched Mia stumble and giggle as she wiped the cum off her face, licking it and blowing the next guy. There was no hint of anything being **** on her.

Tiffany's explanation though unexpected made sense - Mia wanting to blow off steam by having a gangbang...? It still didn't make any sense though they were seeing it happen live.

After a moment, Kate sighed. "Tiffany, was it? I hope no one here knows Karma's real name, else it may end up really bad for you. Having to shut down the club only a few weeks after opening... Anyway, make sure she goes back to her apartment first thing in the morning." she continued, glancing at Sarah's still-frozen expression. "Come on. You can talk to her tomorrow. Let's go."

Mark groggily woke up from the couch, his head pounding. Last night's regret soon washed over him as he stared at the used condoms on the floor.

"Oh fuck..."

"Morning slut!" Tiffany called from the other side of the room, walking towards him. "Planning to stay here from now on?"

Scoffing, he took a gulp from the bottle set on the table, spitting almost immediately after.

"That's not water. And put this on," Tiffany said, tossing him a red mini-tube dress. "The cleaners are coming now," she added, hurriedly pushing Mark to leave the club.

In his rush to get out, he didn't even notice the choker and the condoms hanging from it until he reached the apartment door. Removing and hiding it immediately in his hands.

He quietly slipped back into the apartment, the borrowed mini dress clinging uncomfortably to his skin, the dried cum and sweat making it sticky all over.

He closed the door softly, exhaling in relief—only to freeze when he saw Sarah sitting on the couch, arms crossed.

“Where were you?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Mark fumbled for an excuse. “I… I was with an old friend,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

“Which friend?"

"Uh... It's... Someone you haven't met... Anyway," Mark tried to pass by her.

"Why didn't you call?" She blocked him, examining him from head to toe.

“I lost it on the way...”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to his dishevelled appearance. “And your clothes?”

Mark shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a long story. I’m not feeling great, Sarah. Can we talk later? Please?”

She frowned but nodded. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

Mark retreated to his room, closing the door with a sigh of relief.

Sarah stared at his retreating figure. "I should maybe get a strap-on... with some extra functions..."

Mark closed the door to his room and leaned against it, letting out a deep sigh. His pulse still raced from his encounter with Sarah.

He had barely escaped her scrutiny, but the truth was, he didn’t even know how to explain the past 24 hours to himself, let alone anyone else.

He remembered all of it...But the strange thing was — he couldn't deny how much he liked it. Though it started as a drunken mistake, it evolved into something fun, exciting and strangely pleasant for his tastebuds.

Turning towards the mirror, Mark caught his reflection. The red mini-dress accentuated his every curve. His breasts, fuller than ever, strained against the tight fabric, threatening to spill out entirely. His nipples were hard and clearly visible through the dress, a detail that made him flush with embarrassment. The hem of the dress barely covered him, and half of his round, shapely ass peeked out.

“God... I hope no one saw me walking outside like this...,” he muttered, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He quickly pulled the dress over his head, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. Now completely naked, he stepped closer to the mirror, studying his reflection.

His body had transformed so much, so quickly without him realising. His waist narrower and his hips wide, drawing attention towards his small dick squished between his legs.

His thighs were soft yet firm, with just the right amount of fullness to create an undeniably feminine silhouette. His skin was smooth and glowing. Its shine only masked by the dried cum stains.

The fine blonde hair on his pubic had grown back, forming a neat, heart-shaped patch once again.

His eyes wandered back up to his chest. His breasts were undeniably large now, definitely bigger than the last time he had truly examined himself. He cupped them in his hands, feeling their weight, pulling and pushing them together. His areolas had grown wider and more sensitive. His nipples stood erect, stubbornly refusing to soften even after he tried to push them down with his fingers.

"Mmm..." He tried to muffle his moans as he explored his new self.

Amy bit into her bagel, her eyes darting between the screen displaying her latest experiment data and the live feed of Ben’s room.

The camera, discreetly placed among the mess of action figures and empty snack wrappers, captured her brother hunched over his keyboard. His hair was a greasy mess, and his oversized shirt was stained from yesterday’s binge. She sighed, wiping crumbs off her lab coat.

Taking **** on Mark for Ben’s sake had felt justified. Mark deserved it for what he’d done to her brother.

Amy hadn’t told Ben about what she had done though. She didn't want to open any old wounds, hoping her brother would be able to pick himself up again now that his main cause of torment would never be able to bother him

On the screen, Ben suddenly slammed his fists against the keyboard, his face twisted in rage. Amy frowned, lowering her bagel. 'What’s gotten into him now?'

Ben’s room was a dim cave. The glow of his monitors painted his frustrated face.

“Mark..,” he muttered, venom dripping from his voice.

When he first saw Mark dressed as a girl in a stream a few weeks ago, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It didn't make any sense.

Mark had changed so much. He had longer hair, makeup applied, and most of all, he was masturbating like a girl with a vibrator.

However, after replaying and examining every detail, he was certain that the girl was indeed Mark.

He didn't know why Mark was dressed like that. He didn't care if he was a closet crossdressing pervert either.

Mark’s prank had turned him into a social outcast. Locked in the girls’ locker room, labelled a pervert, and humiliated in front of the entire school. Ben had never recovered. He dropped out, gained weight, and became a recluse. And now, seeing Mark—no, Mia—living freely despite what he’d done, made Ben’s blood boil.

This was the best moment to take ****. He wanted Mark to feel the same humiliation he had faced with a bit of interest. But somehow that didn't go all according to his plan.

“Vanessa...,” he snarled, slamming the desk. She was supposed to expose Mark, but she’d backed out at the last moment. She didn't even share the photo she had supposedly taken as leverage. He smashed his keyboard in frustration. “Fine. If you won’t do it, I’ll just have to do it myself...”