Tripping the Flesh Fantastic

The huge screen lit up bright pink with the third option.

Tripping the Flesh Fantastic.

Molly felt everything inside her go ice cold.

“N-no… not this…” she squeaked in her high cartoonish voice, but her words drowned in the crowd’s excited shouts.

Jack grinned wide, clearly pleased with the audience’s choice.

“Oh, Molly… The viewers are feeling extra filthy today! Tripping the Flesh Fantastic! From now on you’ll love wearing the most revealing, shortest, and see-through clothes possible. The less fabric, the better. You’ll instinctively pick the sluttiest outfits in any situation. Ready to feel it?”

Molly didn’t get a chance to answer. The Fate Collar flashed blinding pink. A hot, thick wave of magic slammed straight into her head, wrapping her mind in a soft but insistent fog.

She moaned quietly, grabbing her temples with both hands. Her bright pink curls swayed and fell heavily onto her massive soft tits. The fog sank deeper — into her thoughts, her memories, the very core of her tastes and preferences.

At first it felt like light dizziness. Then the changes hit.

New images flashed in her mind: her in a tiny transparent top that barely covered her nipples… in a microscopic skirt that hardly hid the bottom of her plump ass… in thin, almost invisible thongs… She pictured fabric that was almost nonexistent, cool studio air on her bare skin, men’s eyes sliding over her body with nothing in the way. These images no longer disgusted her. They started to feel… right. Nice. Desirable.

“Ohhh…” Molly squeaked, feeling her mind slowly but irreversibly rewriting itself.

The shame was still strong, but now it mixed with a strange warm approval. Suddenly her current outfit — this relatively modest top and short skirt — felt way too covered, too boring, almost ugly. She needed to show off her new plump soft body. She needed to tease. She needed to make people horny.

Molly looked down at her clothes and felt real horror.

“This… this is awful!” she squeaked in her high voice, blushing all the way to the roots of her pink curls. “Why the hell is there so much fabric on me?! I look… like an old hag! It’s covering my tits… my thighs… this is wrong!”

Her own words shocked her. The old Molly was still screaming somewhere deep inside, horrified, but the new part — already much stronger — demanded change. She felt sharp, almost physical disgust toward her clothes. The fabric felt heavy, rough, suffocating. She wanted to be naked. Or almost naked. She wanted everyone to see her huge soft tits, round belly, thick juicy thighs, and big ass.

The collar flashed again.

A swirl of pink magical dust suddenly spun around her body. The old outfit started dissolving right before her eyes — the top and skirt melted away like smoke, leaving Molly completely naked for a moment under the bright spotlights. The hall roared with delight.

Then new clothes began to materialize on her.

A paper-thin, almost transparent white top with a plunging neckline that went all the way down to her belly button. The fabric was so sheer that her dark, thick nipples were clearly visible through it, and her huge heavy tits were barely contained, ready to spill out with any movement. Below, tiny shiny pink thong panties that disappeared between her plump ass cheeks, leaving almost her entire big round ass on full display. On her feet appeared tall clear stripper heels that made her already thick thighs look even longer. The whole look was extremely slutty, vulgar, and sexual.

Molly looked at herself and… breathed out in relief. The horror gradually melted away, replaced by deep warm satisfaction.

“Oh… this is so much better…” she squeaked sweetly, running her hands over her body. Her fingers slid across her nearly naked tits, soft belly, and thighs. The new feeling of almost no fabric felt genuinely good. The cool studio air caressed her bare skin, making her nipples harden even more. “Now I look right… pretty…”

She turned slightly, and her huge ass jiggled, almost completely exposed. Molly didn’t feel shame — only a light pleasant arousal from everyone seeing her body. The old Molly was still weakly resisting somewhere deep inside, but her voice was drowned out by the new, strong desire to be desired, exposed, and available to hungry eyes.

She ran a hand through her bright pink curls, which now perfectly matched her new extremely revealing look, and gave a quiet, pleased squeak.

Jack watched her with a predatory smile.

“How do you feel now, Molly?”

“Much… better,” she squeaked, swaying her hips a little. Her massive tits jiggled, barely held by the transparent fabric. “This outfit… it’s so comfortable. So right.”

A small spark of the old shame and horror still flickered inside her, but it was quickly fading under the pressure of her new way of thinking. From now on, Molly Weasley instinctively wanted to wear only the shortest, most transparent, and most revealing clothes possible. And this new desire brought her a strange, deep satisfaction.

Jack briefly looked away from Molly and glanced toward the far dark corner of the stage, where Arthur Weasley stood backstage. Arthur’s face was white as a sheet. His eyes were wide with horror and pain. He watched as his wife — the mother of his children, the woman he had spent his whole life with — stood almost completely naked under the bright spotlights: in a microscopic transparent top that barely held her huge heavy tits, and tiny pink thong panties that completely disappeared between her plump juicy ass cheeks. Arthur clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white, but he stayed rooted in place, unable to intervene. Jack noticed his stare, smirked slightly at the corner of his mouth, and immediately returned to his professional smile.

Molly saw none of this. She was too lost in the new sensations of her body and clothes. The cool studio air caressed almost all of her velvety skin. The paper-thin fabric of the top barely covered her nipples, which now stayed constantly hard and sensitive. Every breath made her massive tits jiggle, rubbing against the transparent material and sending sweet bursts of pleasure down to her belly. Her soft plump belly protruded slightly, and her wide hips and big round ass felt amazingly free and right in this minimal outfit.

“We continue with the second round, dear viewers!” Jack announced loudly, fully focused on the cameras again. “Molly has already taken an important step in her new direction. How do you like her new style?”

The hall responded with enthusiastic whistles and applause. Molly blushed a little, but instead of shame she felt a pleasant warm satisfaction. She instinctively straightened up, pushing her chest out and swaying her hips slightly. Her bright pink curls down to her ass swung heavily, caressing her bare skin.

“Now for your next case, sweetie,” Jack said softly. “Pick one.”

Molly licked her plump lips with her new squeaky voice:

“N-number… twelve…” she squeaked thinly. The sound came out sweet and helpless.

Chrissy walked over with a hip-swaying strut and opened the chest. Golden sign.

Cash.

A disappointed murmur swept through the hall, but Molly breathed out in relief. Her huge tits jiggled with the movement.

“Excellent!” Jack smiled. “You’ve got a decent sum now. Let’s keep going!”

Molly felt a small surge of confidence. Her plump body relaxed a bit, though the wet warm throbbing between her legs remained.

“Next… number eight,” she squeaked a little more boldly.

Chrissy opened chest №8.

The silver bimbo silhouette flashed on the screen.

The hall roared with delight again.

Molly squeaked quietly and pressed her hands to her almost naked tits. The collar was already starting to heat up.

“Oh, Molly…” Jack shook his head with fake sympathy. “Bimbo again! And we’re hitting a very interesting category. Career Change!”

He made a dramatic pause, letting the tension build. Molly felt her heart pound faster. Another mental change. She squeezed her thighs together, causing the thong to dig deeper between her plump ass cheeks and sending a fresh wave of arousal through her.

“This means,” Jack continued, “that your profession, your calling, and how you see your role in the world are about to change. Viewers, pay attention!”

The big screen flashed with five options:

1. Serving the Public — waitress, bartender, or salesgirl. Constantly serving people, smiling, eager to please customers.

2. Trophy Wife — the role of a rich man’s kept woman. Total dependence, living for beauty, pleasure, and her husband’s status.

3. Adult Industry Star — porn actress, stripper, or adult magazine model. Full immersion in the sex industry.

4. Personal Assistant — personal assistant to an influential person (often with additional “duties”).

5. Housewife Bimbo — the perfect bimbo housewife: cooking, cleaning, taking care of her husband, but with an extremely sexual and airheaded twist.

Molly stood in the center of the stage, breathing heavily. Her transparent top barely contained her massive tits, her thick nipples clearly visible through the fabric. Her soft belly rose and fell quickly, her wide hips trembled slightly. The thought that the audience was about to decide what she would do for a living created a storm of emotions inside her: remnants of old horror and shame, but also a strange, forbidden curiosity.

She thought of Arthur, her big family, her old life as a strong witch and mother… but her new mind was already gently pushing her toward the idea that being something simpler and more sexual might not be so bad.

Jack turned to the hall:

“Voting is open! You have thirty seconds to decide what new career awaits our plump, almost naked Molly Weasley!”