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— O-oh my Goff, whaff are theffe lipff?! — Crayson mumbled, staring at the mirror with wide, panicked eyes. His nails, seemingly endless, touched his lips—massive, inflated, lifebuoy-like things that swallowed half of the woman’s face staring back at him from the reflection. "Is that... me?!"
He leaned forward, gripping the sink unconsciously, feeling how the massive breasts unexpectedly pressed against the hard surface, while his newly acquired ass gave an involuntary bounce.
— W-whaff the…… — he stammered, frantically grabbing at his enormous curves from both sides, unable to believe the sensation. — Thiff... thiff iff a f-fuffing niffmare!
Crayson jerked away from the mirror, unable to ignore how the enormous, heavy mass jiggled with every movement, as if it had a life of its own. A strangled squeak almost escaped him as he felt his hips sway uncontrollably, his oversized tits pressing against his ribs, making breathing difficult.
— H-hholy fuff… — he rasped, gripping the sink again. His long, claw-like nails tapped against the marble, while those monstrous lips once again clumsily took over the lower half of his face, making it almost impossible to speak clearly.
His breath hitched, and he spun around, feeling his entire body quiver from the smallest motion. The massive tits bounced with a terrifying autonomy, his hips moved like they were on springs, and his ass… oh God, that ass! It felt bigger than anything his past male logic could have ever imagined.
Finally, his brain started piecing things together. The office. The spam. That goddamn "Apply" button in the email. Holy shit. What had he done?! It was just spam!
Looking around, he suddenly realized he was in a bathroom—probably inside some luxury hotel. The walls were covered in expensive brown tiles, silver faucets gleamed under soft lighting, and the marble sink counter stretched elegantly beneath his trembling hands.
— Fffuhh… n-need to fink… — he mumbled, stepping toward the exit, but he barely took a step before those damn hips! It felt like two unbalanced weights swinging wildly under his skin, dragging him side to side. And that ass—fuck, it felt like it was trying to rip itself off his body with every move.
Crayson nearly tripped, stumbling forward, clutching onto the doorframe for dear life just to stay upright.
Finally making it out of the bathroom, he found himself in a lavish bedroom, bathed in soft sunlight streaming through delicate lace curtains. Ornate paintings hung on the walls, and a massive bed, covered in pastel-pink silk, sat in the center of the room, looking like something meant for a spoiled princess.
— Whaff da fuff iff goffing on here?! — he squealed, feeling...