Don’t Be Mad... (Short)
She found it tucked behind his cologne, hidden in a velvet pouch, glittering violet under the vanity lights like it wanted to be discovered.
A single, shimmering pill.
Purple, iridescent, almost humming with energy.
There was a sticky note folded beneath the pouch.
“DO NOT TAKE. Still unstable. Results unpredictable.”
Well, that just made it more tempting.
She bit her lip, her eyes glinting with curiosity and mischief. Maybe she shouldn’t… but baby, her boyfriend had been so obsessed with his “research.” Always mumbling about “transformative pharmacokinetics,” always telling her she was already perfect—but then why did he keep designing these pills?
And if she was honest? She’d seen his search history.
Big tits. Huge hips. Hourglass figures that bent physics. His fingers scrolling just a little too slow when a busty streamer bounced across his screen.
She giggled to herself. "Perfect, huh?"
Her fingers closed around the pill, and before she could talk herself out of it…
She swallowed.
The effect was instant.
A deep heat bloomed in her stomach—then raced through her veins like molten honey. Her body arched forward, gasping, nipples pebbling beneath her tank top as her back snapped with a loud crack of shifting bone and expanding spine. Her bra screamed under sudden pressure, the fabric biting into swelling flesh.
Pop.
Pop.
Buttons launched off her blouse as her tits surged forward—round, heavy, perfectly perky. Her jaw dropped as they bounced into view, jiggling with every breath.
Her hips flared with a deep grind of transformation, her ass ballooning behind her with a wet, erotic slosh. Her thighs thickened, pressing against the hem of her shorts as her center throbbed, soaked through and hungry.
She stumbled to the mirror, moaning at her reflection.
“F-fuck…”
Her lips looked fuller, glossier. Her lashes fluttered, long and flirty without a touch of makeup. Her cheekbones sculpted into something out of a magazine—no, pornhub.
Then she heard it.
The front door.
He was home.
Her boyfriend stepped into the room, mid-sentence, holding a takeout bag. “Babe, I got—what the fuck?!”
He froze, jaw slack, eyes locked to her body like she was some exotic creature freshly conjured from a dream.
She turned slowly, her hips swaying like a pendulum.
Her voice purred with a new, breathy tone. “Baby… don’t be mad…”
He looked between her tits and the pill pouch on the counter, then back again.
“I know you said they’re experimental,” she whispered, sauntering toward him. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but…”
Her fingers trailed down her curves, drawing his gaze lower and lower.
“…I couldn’t help it.”
She stopped in front of him, eyes dropping to his crotch.
He was hard. Very.
She giggled, leaning in close, tits brushing his chest.
“And judging by that pole in your pants…” she whispered, licking her lips, “…you like this change just as much as I do.”
He groaned. His knees almost buckled.
“You… you could’ve seriously hurt yourself.”
“Oh, I hurt a lot, baby,” she moaned. “But in the best way.”
She grabbed his hand, guiding it to her new, bouncing tits.
He groaned again.
“But you’re right,” she teased. “Next time… we both take one.”
She reached into the pouch and held up a second purple pill between two perfect nails, smirking as he stared at it, lips parted.
“Don’t worry, babe,” she giggled. “If this is what unstable looks like… just imagine what happens when it kicks in together..."
