A total bombshell...and Marcus is starting to catch on

The changes, after Maya, were profound. My breasts swelled further, becoming heavy and lush. My body kept changing, becoming more feminine until there was no trace of Ethan Riley left Only... her. Each transformation brought a fresh wave of despair, of resignation. I was losing myself, piece by piece, act by act. The line between Ethan and... this new female creature... was blurring, fading. And the urges... they were a constant, roaring fire now, barely controllable, always simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to consume me entirely.

And Marcus Thorne, the bully, my tormentor, was still out there. He’d been asking about me more insistently, his threats becoming more overt. Liam was doing his best to run interference, but it was only a matter of time before Marcus found me. Before he saw... what I’d become. The thought filled me with a dread so profound it was almost paralyzing. Because I knew, with a sickening certainty, what would happen when he did. The urge, combined with his inevitable aggression... it would be a disaster. A final, devastating surrender. The last thread of Ethan Riley, unraveling completely.

The confrontation with Marcus Thorne was inevitable. I’d been dreading it, living in a constant state of low-grade terror, knowing that every passing day brought me closer to an encounter I was **** to avoid but powerless to prevent. Liam had been running interference, feeding Marcus a string of increasingly implausible excuses for my absence from school and soccer practice – a debilitating flu, a mysterious tropical disease contracted from a rogue mosquito, a sudden, urgent calling to join a silent monastic order in Tibet. Marcus, predictably, wasn’t buying any of it. His texts to me had become more aggressive, laced with threats and crude insinuations. He was a predator sensing wounded prey, and he was closing in.

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon. I’d been cooped up in my room for days, slowly going insane from boredom and the constant, gnawing pressure of the urges. Liam had finally convinced me to venture out, just for a quick walk in the park, a breath of fresh air, a reminder that a world existed beyond the four walls of my self-imposed prison. We were cutting across the deserted soccer field, the late afternoon sun casting long, melancholic shadows, when he appeared.

Marcus. Leaning against the goalpost, arms crossed over his chest, a sneering, triumphant smirk plastered across his face. He looked bigger than I remembered, broader, more menacing. Or maybe it was just that I felt... smaller. More ****. In this new, undeniably female body. My breasts, now a very noticeable, very full D-cup after a particularly ill-advised and shame-fueled encounter with a surprisingly well-endowed delivery driver Liam had ordered pizza from (the urge had hit me the second he’d stepped into the house, the smell of pepperoni and testosterone a lethal combination), strained against the fabric of the oversized hoodie I was wearing. My hips, wider now, fuller, swayed with an undeniably feminine grace I hadn’t asked for and couldn’t control. My face, delicate and pretty, was probably flushed with a mixture of fear and the ever-present, simmering heat of the curse. I looked, I realized with a fresh wave of despair, like a terrified, cornered girl.