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Those voices in your head are right
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The whispers tickle your ear as your fingers slowly sink into the substantial breasts developing on your chest. The the warm, sensuous pulsing is just under the surface, slowly spreading your slender, manicured fingers. Your feathery lashes flutter as your rump does the same thing, straining the enchanted lingerie that have caused this.
“You must be voluptuous,” the enticing voices purr. “More curves, more femininity more pleasure.” You squirm at as the mantra imprints itself into your mind. “You will be masculine no more. . . only voluptuous, supple flesh. A vessel of carnal pleasure. Wanton passion shall rule your heart and your desires. . .” Your thoughts filled with these words and more - magic corrupting your mind along with your body. You want to fight it off, to try to reclaim your masculinity somehow, but the sinful pleasure your of your transformation has overruled your former self. The voice is one of conflicted craving. To be so youthful, so soft and hedonistic - knowing your body is being remade into form of a self-indulgent fuckdoll. You shiver at the thought of giving delight to both yourself and your lovers. The male voice is losing itself to a feminine one. . the one that hungers for this.
You haven’t seen yourself since the first few days of change, but you already know you are a wondrous beauty. The stunning, curvaceous thing in the mirror has been a pretty girl, but the magic of the wicked, lacy lingerie would not be satisfied. It has spent days plumping up your curves and coiling your waist down to a tiny size. Your hourglass figure and decadent allure make you some kind of exotic pin-up. And still, it is not satisfied. The spell wants more of you. . it will not stop until your breasts are pendulous, massive fuck pillows to cradle around your lovers’ cocks. When that time comes, you’ll be completely at ease with the otherworldly slut your mind tells you to be.