Nowhere Left to Go

You met her on the subway, a bottle blonde vision who sat next to you between stations. You looked up from your phone to meet the gaze of the beautiful woman, but in her features you found an unexpected nervousness.

Something about her just made you want to protect her. "Are you okay?" She shook her head.

"I'm just worried," she said, forcing a smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked. Soon you were deep in conversation - her boyfriend had threatened to dump her over her flat chest. You told her he was crazy - she may have been small-breasted, but otherwise she was an absolute knockout.

"The thing is," she explained, "I've always been self-conscious about my body. I work out a lot, but surgery frightens me. I would actually like to have bigger boobs, but I just don't want to be bullied into it. I'm on my way to a consultation now. I just can't get that asshole out of my mind."

You shook your head. "Don't do that for him. It's your body - you set the limits. Finding a good doctor who will make you feel at ease and give a good recommendation is what you want. You should dump that idiot and do it on your own if you really want to."

The woman, Candy, looked at you as if no one had ever said anything like that before. Her face lit up. "You're right. You're so right! That guy is toast. But... would you come with me to the appointment instead?" 

Candy was a human whirlwind. That same day you were sat in an expensive doctor's office with her, discussing her upgrade from 30A to 30DD. By evening you were sharing a bottle of wine. By midnight she was riding your cock bareback on your living room floor.

"Oh baby," she moaned, her hands pulling at the nipples on her little tits. "I can't wait for my implants.  It's going to feel so good, having them bounce up and down when I fuck you. I want you to be able to fuck my tits, just cover them in your hot cum!" Her strong pelvic floor muscles gripped your dick, and you had to warn her that you were going to orgasm.

"Just fill me up baby, pump it into my pussy!" You gripped her high, tight butt and shot deep inside her. You slept together that night, limbs entangled. It was love. No doubt about it.

Two days later she moved in to your apartment. She had plenty of money, an inheritance she said, and didn't work. But she was the perfect girlfriend - funny, supportive, always down to fuck. A week after, she was coming home from surgery, her breasts bruised but healing. When they did, they looked amazing. New York's best cosmetic surgeon had performed the procedure, and combined with her ultra-fit physique she was now a bombshell. Her breasts had a natural look, the implants not sitting too tight against her body. The feeling of their firmness wrapped around you was nothing short of divine. 

A week later, you got home from work to a surprise - Candy had lip fillers put in. It was like her natural cute pout had been supercharged. "They're all tingly still," she giggled, "see?" She planted a long, lingering kiss on you, her lips feeling like deluxe pillows.

From then on, Candy just wanted to give blowjobs. You had to admit, it felt so good you didn't miss the tittyfucking.

Her ass was next. A few weeks on from the lips, she was organising butt cheek implants, which prompted a wave of ass worship and anal sex. Then she had her breasts enlarged again, then botox, then more lip fillers, a labiaplasty, then her breast implants replaced with expanders. Every time you told her she was beautiful as she was, but that her body was hers to do with as she wished and she had your support.

Privately, you loved it. Candy was a freak, pushing her body to the limit, and you were reaping the benefits. Her appetite for sex was insatiable, and the ever changing landscape of her body was wonderful to play in. Even her plasticised, rigid face and outrageous, bulbous lips made you hard as fuck - she liked like a dumb sex doll. 

She switched up her exercise regime, focusing less on overall tone and fitness and more on building up her ass, thighs and chest, and combining that with waist reduction surgery and corset training. Her body had gone from 30A, 28, 32 to 36J, 22, 42. It was almost too much for you. Almost.

You'd been together for two years, in which time she'd changed her body entirely, when she came home from her expander fill session. The skin on her tits was stretched so tight you could see through it, see the veins. She sounded so disappointed when she told you she was a 36N.

"What's wrong, Candy?"

She ruffled her platinum hair. "I just think I've taken this one as far as I can. I'm sad I've nowhere left to go."

You tried to reassure her. "You don't need to change for change's sake. You're incredible, the most fabulous woman I can imagine."

She straddled your lap, her huge, hard tits pressing against you. She kissed you with those enormous lips, her expression unmoving through the modifications. "Please fuck me, fuck my tight, perfect pussy."

Your cock was hard for her blank face, her sandbag tits, even for her ridiculous pussy where surgery had stripped the beautiful, natural shape of her labia into a blank, Barbie-style area with a featureless slit.

She sat that pussy down on your erection, sinking further until you were completely enclosed, then rocking her pelvis fucked you without rising up off it. As you neared orgasm, she leaned forward, enclosing your lips entirely with hers, and gently blew.

Your world floated for a moment. You were unmoored from your body. Her breath had pushed you out of your head, down your torso, through your dick and, accompanied by a rush of semen, up into her cunt. There you seemed to spread out again, your fingers wiggling hers, shaking her mane of hair, flexing the muscle inside you to grip your old cock. Her breath similarly filled you, leaving a space for you to occupy.

You were Candy now. Your old body, with Candy driving, just walked out. Where, you don't know. How it happened, you cannot fathom.

You sob for your old masculinity, don't you? Crying yourself to sleep over your fake body, your inability to live without being stared at, the weight of your tits, huge beyond reason, straining your back. Your ass so big that you literally couldn't fit it in some seats. Your stupid fat lips that interfered with eating and drinking. You fuck your designer vagina with a fat, purple dildo every night, groping the breasts you have come to hate, drooling through lips so swollen they won't even close together properly. Without access to Candy's money or your old job, you're marooned in this bimbo.

The only way to get out is to change Candy back, one operation at a time, and that's going to be expensive. The only way out is to use your dumb doll body to make money, to fuck your way back to humanity again. Through tears, you place a call to a porn producer and begin the next step on your path of humiliations.

In another part of the world, the man that was once you is undergoing the first in a set of operations. This one shaves his adams apple to give a more elegant neck, and inserts two bolt-on tits. There's a lot he can do to the body he inherited before it's time to move on again.