Try to put on the least revealing outfit available, even though everything has been transformed into slutty clothing

Daniel's Bedroom, Suburban Home, at 07:25 AM on Monday, March 18th, 2024 (0 days since transformation)

You frantically sort through the pile of transformed slutwear, your massive tits swaying with each movement as you bend over. Fuck, even moving feels obscene now—everything jiggles and bounces in ways that send unwanted shivers through your core.

After comparing the options, you settle on what seems like the "best" of the worst: a pair of black yoga pants that at least cover your entire legs (though they're so tight your pussy lips create a visible camel toe), and a white tank top that's still a crop top but covers more than the "CUM DUMP" shirt. The tank top clings to your enormous tits like a second skin, your nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric, already stiff and sensitive.

You pull on the thong first—no other underwear options exist anymore. The thin strip of fabric nestles between your ass cheeks, and the front barely covers your mound. The "BREED ME" rhinestones press against your skin. Just the act of pulling the thong into place makes you gasp as the fabric drags across your swollen clit.

"Shit, shit, shit," you pant, steadying yourself against your dresser.

The yoga pants slide up your legs with difficulty—your thighs are so thick and curvy now that the material strains. When you finally get them up, they dig into your pussy in a way that makes walking a constant exercise in unwanted stimulation. You can see the exact outline of your fat pussy lips, and the way they press together creates friction with every tiny movement.

The tank top is last. Your tits are so fucking massive that getting them into the top takes actual effort, and once they're in, they threaten to spill out with every breath. The crop top ends just below your tits, exposing your flat stomach and the curve of your lower ribs. You notice with growing horror that the white fabric is already becoming slightly transparent from your body heat, and you can see the pink of your areolas showing through.

You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and your stomach drops. Even in the "least revealing" outfit possible, you look like a pornstar ready for a scene. Your body is just too sexual, too exaggerated to be covered modestly. The yoga pants showcase every curve of your ass and hips, the tank top makes your tits look like they're about to burst free, and everything combines to scream "FUCK ME."

That tingling warmth in your core intensifies, and you feel wetness starting to soak through the thong. Your pussy is literally dripping, responding to just seeing yourself dressed like this.

A knock at your bedroom door makes you freeze.

"Danny? Honey, are you up?" Your mother's voice filters through. "I heard you moving around in there. Are you feeling okay? You're usually not up this early."