ASMR Voice

Evelyn had read through the audience’s choices for the fourth time. Officially—her luck had just run out. The options were varied, each different, yet all carried something unsettling. She hoped she’d at least get something neutral—maybe Accent, a higher or lower tone, something simple. If she had to choose, ASMR Voice was the only one that seemed bearable. All the others were awful.

Out of habit, she wanted to nervously grab her sweater—but then she remembered she no longer had one. Her hand brushed against the condom belt around her waist, and her fingers felt the cold, springy filling inside. With disgust, she pulled her hand away. The material felt less and less like a prop, and more and more… real.

“Evelyn!” Jack’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “So, what do you think about your options?”

He watched her closely as she unconsciously rubbed the edges of her tiny shorts, trying to hide her anxiety.

“I’d like ASMR Voice to win,” she said softly. “I don’t want to be mute… or lisp… or sound drunk.”

She lifted her eyes toward the audience, trying to earn a bit of sympathy.

“Besides, it’s already hard to focus on speaking with my new tongue…” she added shyly. “It keeps touching the roof of my mouth and barely fits inside.” She didn’t want to think about how that sounded—but it was too late.

“Oh no… poor thing!” Chrissi squeaked with exaggerated concern, setting off another wave of laughter from the crowd. It was hard to tell whether they were laughing with her, or at her. Jack waited for the noise to fade, then spread his arms theatrically.

“Alright then! Let’s not keep our lady waiting! And the winner is…” He paused dramatically.

“ASMR Voice!”

“Yes!” Evelyn thought with relief, and for a moment, her thoughts brightened. The best of the worst options. Moments later, the collar heated up again. The warmth slid down from her neck into her throat, then sank into her tongue and lips. A faint headache followed—not pleasant, but strangely soothing. It felt completely different from before. The effect lasted only briefly—the shortest of all her transformations so far.

For the first time, the change inside her wasn’t visible to the eye. The audience waited in tense silence. Jack smiled at her, Chrissi bounced with excitement, and Evelyn… said nothing. She’d watched ASMR videos before, a few times, but never imagined she’d become part of one.

“Evelyn!” Jack called. “Let’s hear your new voice!”

The audience responded with cheers and applause. Evelyn swallowed. The studio went quiet. From the microphone came a soft mhm… — delicate, warm, as if she had sighed directly into someone’s ear. Her voice was lower now, airy and gentle. Each word seemed not spoken but exhaled, with faint clicks of her tongue and barely audible breaths between phrases.

For a moment, no one said a word. Someone in the crowd cleared their throat—and then silence again.

“So…” she began, and the air seemed to tremble. Her simple, human sounds felt impossibly close—so close the audience collectively held its breath.

“I’m glad that… this one won,” she said slowly, the ends of her words blending into the rustle of her breath. A murmur passed through the crowd; someone laughed softly, someone else shifted in their seat.

Chrissi covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my God… I’ve got chills!”

Jack adjusted his jacket, as if the studio had suddenly grown warmer.

“Maybe you’d like to tell us, Evelyn,” he suggested quietly, “a bit more about your daily life… with that new, um, pleasant voice of yours. What do you usually do at home? What do you cook?”

“Mhm…” she sighed. “I take care of the whole house… Rob doesn’t like mess, so I clean very often.”

Her voice carried a melodic softness, as if each word lingered in the air a bit longer than it should.

“I cook simple things… the kind that smell like home. Sometimes I follow recipes online… to make sure they’re tasty and filling…”

Each word came out slowly, with small pauses for breath. Sometimes there was the soft sound of her lips parting, or a gentle intake of air before she continued.

“Though…” she whispered, quieter now, her voice trembling slightly “Rob says his mom cooks better than I do…”

He always said it jokingly, she thought. At least, she hoped so. But that joke always hurt.The audience stayed silent, hypnotized. The sound of her breathing seemed louder than anything else. For a moment, even Jack didn’t know whether he should speak—or just listen.

Evelyn’s voice had stopped being mere sound—it was presence. It wrapped around the studio like a slow, warm exhale.

“Wow, Evelyn,” Jack laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve got to admit, I was listening way too closely… and I didn’t remember a single thing you said, haha.”

The audience laughed with him.

“Maybe you can tell us a little more about your life?” he added, his tone light but deliberate. “I wanted to ask about your figure.”

Every breath she took was audible now—mhm… hhhah… tsk… — the microphones caught every whisper, every wet click of her lips, every subtle sound of her tongue moving.

“…oh…” slipped out softly. The transformations hadn’t taken away her shame—they had only made it sharper, more intimate.

“I used to…” she began slowly, her voice trembling and flowing into the mic like a warm exhale. “…be thinner…”

tsk… hmhh… — she inhaled softly, her tongue brushing the roof of her mouth.

“…but since I stopped going to the gym… I’ve gained a little weight.” Each word left her lips carefully, like a confession that cost her courage. “_Rob always jokes… with his friends_…that I’ve turned into… a cow or a pig… since our wedding.”

Her voice sounded like a whisper through tears—yet there was nothing vulgar about it. It filled the air instead of breaking it—painfully human and sincere. The comment she’d heard so many times no longer seemed wrong to repeat aloud. Though somewhere inside, she felt a sting of awareness—she should stop.

“…I mean…” smack… mhm… breath out “…they’re just jokes…”

“…he just wants me to have a better figure…” tsk,

“…that’s why he comments… on everything…”

She didn’t even know why she’d said it. Maybe she just wanted someone to finally hear how she really felt. The last word was almost silent.

Around her, silence fell—not the empty kind, but one thick with tension and closeness. The audience held their breath as the microphones kept picking up every moist sound of her lips, every slowed breath, every intimate noise that felt too private for public air.

A moment passed. The lights above the stage flickered, and the audience began whispering among themselves again. The applause had long faded, but the tension remained in the air—dense, sticky, and quiet. Jack adjusted his microphone and smiled toward Evelyn.

“Evelyn, my dear,” he said with his usual charm, “I think I’ll have to ask you to pick our next case.”

Evelyn flinched, as if just returning to the present.

“Yes… of course.” Her voice was still soft, calm—the same hypnotic whisper that had silenced the whole studio moments earlier.

She looked toward the rows of pink cases.

“Number three. ” mlask

Chrissi clapped her hands and ran toward the chosen case. Her chest bounced with each step, drawing laughter and whistles from the audience. She stopped, grabbed the handle, and lifted the lid. From inside burst a blinding pink light—intense, sugary, almost alive.

“Oh no…” Evelyn whispered. Her voice, though barely audible, spread through the studio like an echo inside headphones.

Jack clapped his hands theatrically.

“Evelyn! That’s your fifth Bimbo Box!” he shouted with mock enthusiasm. “Looks like the audience has another tough choice ahead—because this time…”

BREASTS

1. These Boobs Have Seen Things - Areolas and nipples grow larger and darker, turning a deep brown shade like a pregnant woman’s. Her breasts become heavier, softer, and slightly saggy — warm and sensitive to every touch. They seem to remember every pair of hands that ever touched them.
2. True Udders - Her breasts swell to enormous size, veins showing beneath the skin, nipples long and plump. They look ready to be milked — and, disturbingly, they actually can be. Every step makes them sway heavily, alive with their own rhythm.
3. I Asked for an Appendix Surgery, Not a Boob Job! - Her breasts turn unnaturally round, high, and stiff like after a cheap procedure. Large implants press against the skin, nipples constantly standing firm as if always on display. Perfect for selfies — terrible for sleeping on her stomach.
4. Men’s Favorite Pillows - Soft, wide, and irresistibly plush. They always fall perfectly into shape, ideal for cuddling and falling asleep against. They attract eyes, hands… and everything else a man can offer.

https://strawpoll.com/jVyG2oAX9Z7