Ms. Jan 2023: Glory to the Hole!

Trigger #103: The Glory Hole of the Cursed Maiden.

Location Class: A cursed glory hole stall located right next to the men's bathroom of Murphy's Bar and Grill in Sala City.

Transformation Type: TG, Corruption. Bimbofication, Reality Shift.

Threat Level: Mischievous. Turns anyone who enters into a sex hungry prostitute.

Subject: Brandi Porter, F, 21, formerly Bradly Wembleton, AMAB, 21.

The following is a biographical account of events based on the subject's own testimonies and several eyewitness accounts.



It tastes like clam chowder...

It definitely wasn't what Brandi expected a dick to taste like, but that was what she thought regardless. She didn't hate it, but the salty taste and smell did turn her stomach a tad. Still, she craned her head forward and let the long, thick link of sausage poking out from the hole in the wall travel further down her throat.

Yup! It totes tastes like clam chowder! LOL!

Believe it or not, the big titted, tattoo covered escort currently servicing a random gentleman inside the men's bathroom of a random dive bar was once a star student studying at Harvard University. Top of her class, in fact.

Bradly Wembleton was a clean cut, straight laced, straight A student from a wealthy family. Before he was even born, his parents decided that he would go into law like his mother. Bradly's life was a meticulously scheduled calendar of studying and stuffy social events. Any friends he had were carefully scrutinized by his parents and subsequently cast aside for not being "on his level." Bradly felt more like a puppet than a person. Red tape and a tangled mess of strings bound him to his mother and fathers' fingertips.

Bradly had just barely managed to convince his parents to let him stay with some relatives in Sala City for winter break, desperate to get a small taste of freedom before he graduated and was immediately drafted by his mother's large, cutthroat law firm.

Despite having turned 21 months ago, Bradly wasn't allowed to drink a drop of alcohol until he graduated summa cum laude in all his subjects. So the first place he stopped when he finally snuck away from his equally overbearing relatives was a little dive bar on the other side of town called "Murphy's." He was almost shaking with excitement when he walked through the pub doors. Or maybe it was fear, as he realized he was much more formally dressed than the other more casual looking patrons. He sat down at the bar, showed the bartender his ID, and she went about making his drink. The bar tender was strange to be sure. Sexy, but strange. She had gorgeously wavy black hair, and breasts bigger than her head, with hips and ass to match. Bradly could have sworn she had bright pink eyes when she winked at him, but decided it had to be a trick of the light.

After just one drink, he was buzzed, blurting out his life story to her. She waited patiently and listened politely, occasionally bouncing and balancing cocktail shakers on her tits as she showed off for the other patrons. "My whole life has been planned out, start to finish. Hell, my parents have even decided what kind of casket I'll be buried in. They're fucking CRAZY!" Bradly took another long swig of beer, and sighed. "I don't want to be a big shot lawyer. Hell, I'd rather be a dime store hooker turning tricks if it meant I could be my own boss for five effing seconds."

The woman considered what he said, and smirked. "I think I've got just what you need. Down the hall and to the right, in the two corner stalls of the men's bathroom, there's a glory hole. Why don't you go over there and have a good time. It'll be life changing. I promise."

Bradly had watched XXX videos and jacked off just as much as the next guy, but he'd always been too busy, or too shy to actually go out and get laid. "Well, better late than never, I guess," he mumbled as he set off for the men's room. There were two doors in the hallway she'd pointed too. Still a little buzzed but sobering up now, Bradly picked the door on his right.

In the dingy, damp concrete cubicle that smelled of sweat and shame, there was a hole, about waist high, wrapped in duct tape.  Bradly considered it for a moment, kneeling down to stare into the hole. It was pitch black, and it seemed to go on forever.

He almost left. But then in a moment of awkward, unfathomable courage, he unzipped his pants. Even if this is the DUMBEST thing I've ever done, he thought to himself, at least it's MY decision to do it...

Bradly closed his eyes, and waited. Just before he was about to pull out, something soft like lips wrapped itself around his cock and started sucking, tugging at it slowly, then faster, and harder. Bradly's eyes rolled up into his head as he started panting in pleasure, begging for more under every breath. He tried to imagine the girl who was  servicing him in the next stall over. He felt shallow, but he couldn't help but think of a bleach blond bimbo covered in tattoos and cheap jewelry on the other side, tits pressed up against the concrete, hips grinding as she touched herself in perfect tandem. It was then Bradly's eyes wandered, and he noticed there was another hole down to his left, and a third up to his right.

Wait... why would there be three holes... unless... oh NO!

A shiver of dread crept down his spine as he realized that he was on the WRONG SIDE of the glory hole! Before he could remove his dick from the opening, it clamped shut, and in his shock, Bradly came for the last time. His dick shrank and softened like a wet worm, but it didn't stop shrinking when he pulled it out of the hole. No, it kept shrinking until it was crawling its way up into his insides, burrowing a new glory hole up between her legs.

She searched her pants for the missing limb, but there was no such luck. Faster than she could think, the changes continued. A golden tan crept across her skin, and her body started to curve and inflate like bread in the oven. Her plain squarish face plumped and soft. A button nose and plump, puffy lips perfect for dick sucking sat under heavily lashed blue eyes. Then, her prim and proper polo shirt erupted into a shotgun blast of buttons as fat, G cup tits billowed out from her chest. Her arms shrank into useless twigs as she struggled to hide them from view and carry their weight. Her pants were the next to rip, as her waist caved in, and all her excess weight and mass were squeezed out into her ass and thighs.

She batted something out from her field of vision, and realized with shock it was attached to her. Long, silky strands of bleach blond hair fell down around her shoulders and tickled her back. Her eyes rolled up into her head again as her brain started going fuzzy, as if all that hair dye was seeping into her brain. She could feel something moving through her memories, like a cursor hovering over every intelligent thought she'd ever had, and clicking "delete."

Her years of careful study?

*Click*

Suddenly replaced with memories of giving sloppy hand jobs in the university bathroom.

Her various academic awards and scholarships?

*Click*

No, she dropped out of college her second year after missing too many classes drinking and sucking dick. Instead, she was taking a gap year to "find herself" working odd jobs as a waitress, a stripper, and a straight up prostitute to pay her massive student loan debt.

Bradly... no, Brandi, Brandi Porter, had a vague recollection of the way things were supposed to be. She was still herself, but each new memory felt more vivid and real than her old ones. It was as if her old life was a collection of favorite movies she'd watched growing up, now gathering dust in the trash bin of her brain. Every legal loophole and bureaucratic yarn was being untangled, snipped, and replaced with a library's worth of knowledge about hair care products, make-up tips, and cute boys she wished she'd banged in college. As the furrowed wrinkles of her brain were ironed into a delightfully ditzy new persona, her outward appearance also shifted to match. Her face was caked in cheap makeup, smokey eyeshadow, heavy mascara, and rocket red lipstick smearing itself all over her face. Fake gold jewelry ringed itself around her wrists and pierced her ears and eyebrow. Her skin prickled as an invisible needle drew the trashiest, trampiest tattoos imaginable all over her formerly immaculate body. Her clothes, once from the most fashionable stores in Cambridge, mutated into a skimpy white tank top and booty shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Brandi yelped as a pink thong wedged itself up between her ass cheeks. When she stood up to pull it out, her shoes shot up into tacky 6 inch heels, tightening her ass and posture and exacerbating the problem.

In the scuffle, Brandi had dropped her wallet. It didn't really matter, she no longer matched the image on the driver's license.

"Oh em GEE! Like, what the EFF just frickin' happened to me?!" Brandi said in a voice that reeked of valley girl, with the tiniest hint of huskiness from a bad smoking habit in high school. Brandi's words no longer matched her thoughts. She felt more or less like the same person on the inside, after all, just a hell of a lot dimmer. Anything she said passed through a heavy filter, sounding dumber and ditzier the more she tried to say something even remotely intelligent sounding.

"Oh my fucking GAWD. I'm totes a slutty BIMBO now! Inside and out..." she whined, stamping her feet. "What the eff am I gonna DO?! How the hell am I gonna es-plain... ex... plane... ugh, TELL this all to mom and dad?! What about school?! This stupid fucking hole just stole my LIFE!"

As if on cue, a floppy pink phallus poked out of the hole and brushed against her bare leg. She shrieked in surprise, like something out of a horror film. "S'right, lady, just take your time. I got all day..." a slightly drunk man's voice said on the other side. Brandi looked down at the thing curiously. It was already half erect from brushing up against her pillowy soft leg. There was a deep, intense warmth, a hunger, a longing that burned somewhere near Brandi's stomach.

She got down on her knees (her booty shorts nearly ripping at the seat again) and stared at the man's cock, licking her lips.

Oh no! This cursed glory hole is making me, like, TOTES want to suck on this guy's fat juicy cock! I-I-Ijust can't stop myself!!!

Brandi puckered up her lips, and wrapped them around the man's bell end. She moaned like it was the tastiest hot dog she'd ever eaten as she dragged it across the roof of her mouth. Up and down. In and out. She let the man's cock wander down so far she almost choked on it, but she kept going. She could feel his dick quiver and stiffen, trembling like the quakes of a volcano ready to blow.

Suddenly, Brandy felt another dick poking out from the second hole, square into the round of her butt. She welcomed it, swaying her hips and sandwiching it between her cheeks like a hotdog bun. Don't worry, mister! I've still got plenty of room for you too, hehehe! She pumped and gyrated like a human accordion. Her free hand wandered down south and she plunged her fingers deep into the wet folds of her new sex. She couldn't do much math anymore, but this multiplied her pleasure to the point she thought her brain would turn to jelly. Well, jelli-ER.

The pressure just kept building and building, a trio of horny moans and gasps rising and rising until...

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHNNNNNN!!!!

The three came at the exact same time. Salty and thick cum erupted and covered the poor little bimbo like slime in a cartoon. Ewwwww... it got in my haiiirr... damn it... next time I should just effing swallow... she decided as she stood up and cleaned herself off as best she could. To her surprise, several dollar bills popped out through the holes like confetti. "Here you go, sweetheart. Something for your time," one of the holes cooed as he buckled up his pants and trudged off. Brandi picked up the money and counted it. Well, she counted it as best she could now, but decided there were a lot of bills, so it must mean it was a lot of money.

Brandi wrestled a thought out of her cotton candy filled brain. I could make a lot of money doing this... Not enough to pay my loans or anything, but still a hella lot of cash!

More importantly... I could be my own boss!

There was a sharpie in the corner of the cell. Brandi crawled over, and drew two lines in marker on her chest. Gotta keep count, tee hee! she rationalized, before waiting patiently in front of the hole on her hands and knees, waiting for her next customer like a dog waits for walkies.



Brandi serviced ten people that night before she finally decided to call it quits, proudly displaying her accomplishment as ten tally marks on her chest. Tits lightly bouncing in her tank top, hips swaying, she walked into the women's bathroom to clean herself up before walking back out to the bar. She could feel several eyes on her as she left the safety of the women's room. Several men and women who had had several drinks too many were leering at her, undressing her in their heads from across the room. Suddenly, having so much skin exposed wasn't so fun for Brandi anymore. She closed up like an armadillo, arms wrapped around herself, trying and failing to cover her massive chest and many many lewd tattoos.

Not knowing why, she breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a bit when three girls, looking almost identical to her, (Twinsies! she thought to herself) waved her down. "Yooo, Brandi! How much did you make tonight? Enough to pay off our tab?" the tallest of them asked, taking a sip of her margariti.

"I dunno, Barb! You know I hate counting! It makes me feel dumb..." Brandi found herself saying before she even knew who "Barb" was. A helpful voice told her that these were her three bestest friends in the whole wide world, Barbi, Bambi, and Brittni. They were people she could trust. Barbi was the smartest of the four, actually having finished law school, summa cum laude and everything, but having decided that a career as a cam girl was far more lucrative, and far more fun. "Fuck's sake, Brandi! We need to teach you how to fucking count one of these days. I don't want some asshole screwing you out of your tips..." Barbi flipped through the wad of cash, took out just enough to cover Brandi's quarter of the tab, and handed the rest back. "Thanks Barbi! What would I do without you, hehehe..." Brandi giggled, apologetically sticking out her tongue and and knocking on her empty noggin.

As Brandi and the other girls gathered their purses and swayed their way out of the bar, she realized something. She was still giggling. Not because she was dumber than a sack of bricks, but because she genuinely felt... happy. She was someone else now! She didn't have to worry about what Bradly Wembleton's parents would say, because none of it was her problem anymore! She could live her own life! She could suck as many dicks, and buy as many clothes, and wear as much makeup as she wanted, and they couldn't do a goddamn thing about it! And after she'd had her fun, she could find a nice boy... or maybe even a girl... or a non-bina... non-binner... a nice PERSON to settle down with! And for the first time in her life, she had FRIENDS! Friends who actually wanted to be around her, not because her parents had hired them to hang out with her out of pity.

They say that ignorance is bliss (not Brandi, she wouldn't say that, she had to repeat  her senior year for failing English. And Science. And pretty much everything but Art.)

Brandi was more than blissfully ignorant.

She was FREE.


And she was happy.


From the desk of

Mira Alcott

Head-Mistress of Transformations

(Special thanks to ThatGuyImortal for the suggestion, to my Test Readers, and to all of you for your support!

Extra special thanks to Kim Rinzley (https://www.patreon.com/KimRinzley) and NotZackForWork (https://www.patreon.com/notzackforwork/posts) for helping me do some quick edits to the art, y'all are the best~!