The Perfect Pornstar TG

        “Gentlemen, thank you all for coming to this emergency board meeting,” the voice of the secretary to the vice-president of research said. He had meant for it to be an imposing boom, but it hardly came out at all. Before him, about a half dozen men sat, surrounding an ovular table, all wearing black suits, all more powerful than him in the company, and all scaring the absolute crap out of him. The secretary soldiered on. 

        “As you all know, we’ve had an anomaly as of late–one that could jeopardize our entire operation. The subject’s name is—sorry, was—Tyler Schouser. We picked him up using this series of pop-up ads.”

        The small, mouse-like man standing before the board clicked a button, and the projector whirred to life. It displayed the silhouette of a cartoonishly well-endowed women with the text: 

“WE HAVE

EVERY GIRL

EVERY FETISH

EVERY LIVESTREAM

CAN’T FIND WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING FOR? WIN $100!”

“Now Tyler’s profile says that he is a gambling man and also particularly susceptible to erotic advertising, so it’s no surprise that he took the bait. Naturally, at this time we redirected him to our site and installed the usual virus on his machine. This gave us access to his webcam, so at this time I’d like you to see him. Fair warning, though, he is not wearing pants.”

The secretary of research clicked the remote again, and the slideshow progressed, displaying Tyler, fully nude, cradling an erection. The board members made no sound and betrayed no emotion. The secretary wondered if they were capable of feeling anything at all. 

“It seems,” he continued, “that Tyler was more curious than he was horny. He starts off easy, typing ‘Asian’ into the search bar. Of course, we have thousands of VODs and hundreds of streamers that match that description. So he tries again, searching, ‘Asian facefuck.’ Again, a relatively common search. After a few more increasingly specific searches, he finally goes for “petite Asian fucked in a warehouse in every hole by well-hung stranger pov.” That did it; we had no video with that description. So we gave Tyler his prize. Let’s watch, shall we?” The secretary clicked the remote, and the slideshow progressed, this time displaying a video. 

Tyler looked very much like he had in the still photo: slightly overweight, sitting in an old swivel chair, stark naked. His room was dark, illuminated only by the otherworldly glow of the monitor. The room watched as his eyes went wide and he raised his arms in victory,

“Ha, ha!” His voice echoed through the tinny speakers, “no results! I win! You fuckers owe me a hundred bucks!” Suddenly, the room went dark. The screen had apparently gone out.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” Tyler said, “the prize was a lie from the very beginning” 

The light of the monitor came back on, illuminating the scene once more. But Tyler was no longer in his bedroom, but a cold, dark, empty building, still sitting in his same old chair, in front of his same computer. In the corner of the video, a white box appears with some text, announcing:

Viewers: 0

Donations: 0

Messages: 0

“This is what Tyler sees on his screen,” the secretary explained. 

The board watched as  the skin on the man’s face, and, in fact, all over his body, grew taught, like someone was pulling it right around the frame of my skeleton. A wave of chills passed over him, coating his skin and goosebumps which quickly receded, taking any and all body hair with them, leaving him as hairless as a newborn snake. On top of that, the skin that was left behind was smooth and clear, like butter; not a mole, bump, scab or scar in sight. At the same time, there was a warmth to it, emanating from his core and radiating to his extremities, like a pale sort of blush, until his entire body was coated in the strange peachy hue, entirely foreign to the man’s typical pasty appearance.

Simultaneously, his hair was almost pulsating, swaying slightly as though he were under water or weightless. It was hard to tell in the poor light, but his hair was darkening to a beautiful dark brown. Of course, that didn’t matter much to Tyler, given that, by the time he noticed it, he was much more preoccupied with the fact that it was tickling his shoulders.

“...the fuck?” he murmured quietly to himself. He had been busy examining the new locale in which he found himself, to the point of completely missing the changes on his own body.

A noise echoed through the speakers: a notification for a chat message. Apparently, Tyler had a viewer. Though he wasn’t very complimentary:

“Get your ugly mug off the screen and show us the chick!” 

Almost instantly, Tyler lifted a hand to his face, clearly feeling something that did not seem particularly pleasant as his skull crunched and collapsed. His face grew thinner, popping and bubbling like boiling tar as it slowly reshaped itself into a softer, altogether more pleasing shape. A snap echoed through the empty room as his nose broke, healing itself cuter and thinner. Whether in pain or pleasure, it was hard to tell, but Tyler bit his lower lip, which in response grew like a ripening fruit, becoming sweet, juicy, and ever so slightly pink. The man blinked incessantly, as though something was stuck in his eye while his eyelashes perhaps doubled in length and subtle eye-shadow coated his lids. When he finally stopped, his eyes were the same almond color as his hair, and almond-shaped, too, betraying Asian descent that Tyler most certainly did not have. All the while, layers of makeup soundlessly applied themselves, like snow upon the ground on a silent winter’s night.

By now, his hair had stopped growing, having reached just above his shoulder blades. He ran a hand through it, trying to brush it out of his eyes and pin it behind his ears, but failing miserably. Once again, the speaker opened up and sound cascaded out, this time taking the form of text-to-speech voice:

“Donation: hair tie x 1. Note: You’re gonna need it.” 

Suddenly, the video on the projector paused. The secretary turned around and found one of the board members raising his hand.

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m familiar with the new ‘donation’ system?”

“Oh, yes. That was a new update we rolled out about a week ago,” the secretary explained, “Viewers can pay money in exchange for sending a streamer a gift–in this case, a hair tie.”

“Oh, I see. Continue,” the board member responded, lowering his hand. If the secretary thought he could have rolled his eyes without getting fired, he would have. The sheer audacity to be on the Board and not even know your own product! But there was nothing he could do, so he simply let out a little sigh and resumed the video.

Tyler looked around for a moment, visibly confused, before finding the hairband fastened around his wrist. It seemed he had more pressing issues to worry about than where it came from, however, so he simply used it to tie his ridiculously long hair back into a ponytail. As soon as he used it, though, a different strange look came across his face, like he was going to burp.

“Th-thank–” Tyler belched out against his will, unable to finish as he regressed into a fit of coughs. The secretary smiled. The gratitude segment was his idea, and it was nice to see it working.

“Thank you, MonsterC0ck89,” Tyler finally spat out in a voice that was much too high and not nearly panicked enough to be his own. That coughing fit, apparently, was over his Adam’s apple. 

Not all of the viewers were so cordial, however. Tyler didn’t seem too preoccupied with reading them, but as they passed, the secretary read them for what must have been the dozenth time:

“Lose some weight,”

“Get out of here, you fat bastard!”

“When’s the chick showing up? “

Though none of them could explain the upcoming anomaly, they were certainly contributing to the transformation, as intended. 

A visible shiver ran through Tyler’s body as a wave of pleasure swept over him. He closed his eyes, his breathing shallow and irregular as his fat visibly stiffened, like butter in a freezer. Slowly, it began to locomote under his skin, and rapidly his flabby arms cracked and shrank, shriveling. Inversely, his muscles seemed to flex as if he were straining with all his might to lift something. Before long, each arm was long and slender, completely out of place with the rest of his body. His joints and knuckles popped like firecrackers as they shrank, his hands growing delicate,even soft, while his fingers thinned one by one, until finally each one was tipped with a finely manicured nail.

It was obvious at this point that Tyler was beginning to enjoy whatever was happening to him. Pleasure was clearly overriding the shock of appearing suddenly in a new building, and a substantial hard-on had developed below his waist. At this point, his body more or less had the appearance of a wax figure melting in the sun, the fat in his body rendering into nothing. You could actually watch the weight drop, from obese to overweight, then to about average, before finally settling in significantly underweight. His ribs were visible like little mountain ranges under his skin, and a good amount of tight muscle peeked out tentatively. If he didn’t have the head and arms of a woman, he might actually be fairly attractive. 

Just then, a sort of low gurgle emanated from Tyler’s thighs. Eagerly, he wrapped his hands around them, apparently excited for what was to come as they began to, for lack of a better word, pulse. As though on instinct, Tyler squeezed his legs together and gyrated his hips, apparently trying to stimulate the transformation and himself as the fat he’d lost began to stream back into them. He licked his plump lips and closed his eyes, hands gripping fistfulls of thigh-flesh as they grew thicker and sexier under his touch. 

“Here we go,” the chat read,

“Finally it’s getting good”

“Donation: Panties x 1. Note: Just so we don’t have to look at that ugly cock anymore.” 

Tyler wasn’t even phased as the pair of black panties appeared on his hips, much too big in the waist and ass and not nearly big enough in the front to cover his erection. His delicate fingers simply continued to caress her thighs, reveling in the sensation of growth.

“Thank you, M-Master_P0G3R5,” he said seductively, the stutter coming from pleasure, not surprise. His thighs were filling like sandbags, filled with equal parts muscle, fat, and pleasure as they surged bigger, jiggling irresistibly. His dainty hands caressed the big, meaty pillows, shaking them this way and that, toying delicately with the clouds of pale, soft flesh. But all good things must come to an end and, sure enough, his thighs eventually ceased their meteoric growth. Almost mournfully, his hands left his thighs and found the arms of his chair. Pushing off of these, he actually managed to stand up, despite a visible weakness in his knees. He danced for the camera a little, flexing his toned belly as his thighs jiggled temptingly beneath, before another surge of pleasure seemed to rack his body, nearly driving him to the ground. With that, he sat on the swivel chair once more, backwards this time, his flat rear facing the camera.

His hips continued to gyrate, grinding and bucking wildly as his hands grabbed what little ass there was. A moan filled the warehouse as it tentatively began to fill out, surging slightly between his fingers. 

Although Tyler was apparently in unrestrained ecstasy, the viewers wanted more. 

“Faster” they typed, “Bigger,” “rounder,” "tighter.” With a loud yell, Tyler arched his spine, a subtle crack indicating that it had fused in a sort of s-shape to promote her growing ass and currently flat chest.

"More!" he yelled, unable to contain his excitement as his ass continued to surge, inch by inch, pound by pound. Within moments, it was lifting him off his seat, the whole thing shaking and jiggling wildly as he rocked his hips back and forth. The panties that were once loose and ill-fitting were now perfect, hugging his curves like it was painted on and wedging itself between his two voluminous cheeks. Though he wasn’t sure how he knew to, he began to twerk, relishing in the waves of fat and muscle rippling in his new ass until, rather suddenly, a crack echoed out in the warehouse, and then another. In a single moment, Tyler’s hips had exploded out, both giving him an hourglass figure and throwing him off balance, causing him to fall off his chair and lay on the floor, panting.

As he lay there, though, he was not permitted any respite. His viewers smelled blood–or, rather, milk–and they were out to get it.

“TITS! TITS! TITS!” Nearly every message in the stream read. Tyler couldn’t read them all the way from the floor, but he felt the effects: His pectoral muscles flexed against his will, a slow rumble of pleasure building in his chest. Suddenly, he was aware of how cold the hard concrete floor was against his chest or, more accurately, his nipples. In just a few moments, they had grown dark and sensitive, and were rapidly expanding to the size of silver dollars.The only sound the webcam picked up was gentle pants of pleasure as Tyler’s new bosom blossomed.

Tyler began shaking on the floor–quivering, almost–and in response his chest jiggled readily, swelling all the time. His breasts grew larger and larger as fat accumulated behind each nipple, the man’s eyes rolling back into his head as he writhed on the ground like a snake. Beneath him, his breasts bounced and jiggled wildly, his nipples hard enough to cut glass.

For a moment, the secretary broke his gaze with the projector and turned to look at the board. And that word–bored–wasn’t so far from the truth. Some were averting their eyes–perhaps ashamed at what their program could do, was doing, to its users. Others were disinterestedly checking email or watching with mild bemusement. One even looked like he might be asleep. The secretary shook his head, disdainful at their lack of appreciation for true art. 

By the time the secretary had turned around, Tyler was on his back, issuing some bizarre combination of a laugh and a moan from his cock-sucking lips, writhing and trembling as weight accumulated on his ribs. His hands traveled up and down his body as though surveying the curves, until finally they reached his budding breasts and began to squeeze. His nipples became even harder as his fingers stroked and probed them, prompting a few gasps and groans. Squishy flesh filled between his fingers as they filled out, forcing his nipples out and off his chest. It would have been ecstasy except–one nagging problem. A hand left its breasts and migrated south, eventually finding his still erect member which, almost as a matter of muscle memory (though whose muscle no one could say) it began to stroke.

Up, down, up, down, he stroked, giving careful attention to the whole shaft. Up, down, up, down, he flicked, toying with his newly sensitized nips. It was hardly visible, but despite his hard-on, Tyler’s dick was significantly smaller than it was when the stream started, and with each stroke it got smaller. Conversely, his breasts grew larger and firmer, his nipples protruding into the air like two defiant middle fingers to his masculinity. It wasn’t long before his dick was too small to stroke, and instead had to be rubbed rapidly, without technique, just to squeeze a final ounce of pleasure out of it. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, the offending member fully receded into Tyler’s tight abdomen forever, soon followed by his testicles, which quickly bloomed into a pair of ovaries. 

Tyler didn’t seem to mind, however, maintaining the same posture as before: one hand on the tits, the other in the crotch, though now with the addition of an arched spie that seemed to indicate near-orgasmic levels of pleasure coming from both areas. The secretary had to wonder if he–sorry, now she–was receiving pleasure from the cock that had receded inside her, or if the clitoris was simply a superior sexual organ than the penis when it came to delivering pleasure. Whether or not she could actually feel the penis within her, she was definitely thinking about one, moaning like a whore as her fingers pumped in and out of her wet slit, her tits jiggling like plates of jello on a cruise ship. Try as she might, though, she would not orgasm–their program made sure of it, at least until the original request had been filled. Still, it was almost pitiable, watching the new woman whimper in desire as a puddle of juices dripped down her legs, her still-growing tits slapping her chest with the motion. Eventually, though, her rhythm slowed. It was unclear whether she was simply tired, or if she came to realize the fruitlessness of continuing in the masturbatory exercise. Eventually, she just laid there, panting, nearly completely naked, in front of thousands of horny watchers. A pile of clothes appeared beside her before, suddenly, the screen was covered in static, and the video feed switched to a different camera. 

At first, it wasn’t clear what the projector was showing. Then, with the constantly moving perspective and the gentle gait of a pedestrian, it became clear: the POV camera. It, or, rather, the figure it was attached to, navigated the warehouse with a learned sort of precision, as though he had been there a thousand times before–which, in all fairness, he probably had at this point. It was only a minute before he found Tyler, standing against a wall, wearing skin-tight pants that highlighted her every curve and a blouse with so few buttons done that it might as well had none at all. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” the voice of the POV asked, though it was clearly not much of a question. 

“I was going home,” the woman that used to be Tyler said, “but now that you’re here, I’m not so sure.” She crossed a petite arm over her stomach as though to cover herself, but only succeeded in framing her tits as a coy smile spread across her lips. 

“Well you can’t leave yet” the voice said. It sounded inhumanly deep, as though it were someone using a voice changer, “You haven’t claimed your prize!” A hand extended out from behind the camera, grabbing her shoulder.

“Now which hole first…” the voice said, asking itself more than anything, “Mouth… pussy…” the arm yanked her shoulder, flipping her around and pushing her against the wall with a gasp. The hand left her shoulder and the camera lowered down to her tight rear.

“... or ass?” the voice asked, and at once the hand came out and slapped it. Over the tinny speakers, a faintly feminine giggle could be heard. Just as the chat began to fill with replies, demanding one hole or another, or some fourth option, the secretary found the remote and stopped the VOD. 

“I don’t get it,” one of the called out, irritated, “that seemed like standard procedure. Where’s this ‘anomaly’ you called this email for? The one that could catastrophically endanger the site?”

“Well that’s the thing,” the secretary said, “the whole thing is normal, totally by the books. Which is why it’s so hard to explain what happened after.”

“And what is that?”

“Tyler never changed back.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the hum of the projector and the whirr of an overhead fan.

“What?” one of the board members asked.

“I mean,” the secretary responded, glad they were finally seeing the gravity of the situation, “It’s been two weeks since that video, ten times as long as it should take, and Tyler still hasn’t gone back to being ‘Tyler.’ She goes by ‘Tori’ now, and she’s still streaming, still dressing like–well like THAT, and–”

“No, I didn’t mean what like ‘what does that mean,’ I meant more along the lines of ‘so what?’”

“So–so wHAT? So this is total identity death! Tyler is dead, and we killed him! If ANYONE finds out about this–”

“Will anyone?” another board member interrupted, “you said we had a comprehensive profile on this guy. Will anyone notice that he’s missing?”

“Well, not really” the secretary conceded, “and anyway, given the other porn he searched up, he seemed to have been considering a transition anyway, so it wouldn’t be a huge surprise to anyone that knew him–but that’s besides the point. If this happens again–”

“Wait, he wanted this to happen?” A third board member piped up.

“Wha–no, it didn’t seem as though he had any aspirations of being a female porn star for the rest of his life–”

“But he did want to be female.”

“N-maybe, we don’t know. It’s speculative.”

“Alright, well, then, don’t let it happen again. Or do, if they want it to, I don’t care. Case closed. Didn’t seem like that much of an issue after all.” the final board member said, standing. The rest of the group stood, too, taking their various pens and notepads before filing out of the dark room. The secretary didn’t leave, though, choosing to spend some time simply sitting in the boardroom, alone, his head in his hands.