Tales from the Tour: It’s the Pits
(Woman to Peach [fruit, not Nintendo character])

 

The heiress sighed, rolling her eyes as the dreadfully droll tour continued. Really, isn’t there anything else for me here besides candy? She thought petulantly, thinking only of her hard-fought figure. The girl stuck out her upper lip, but of course Daddy Dearest didn’t see her. He so seldom did when she needed attention.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, looking to the scenery instead of the more colorful host. He was prattling on about some refinement process or other, and was thus too distracted to see her clear boredom. Likewise, he was too distracted to see her slipping from the group, her eyes alighting on something she rather fancied.

“Well, what have we here?” Charlotte purred, pushing some of her dirty-blonde hair over a shoulder. She grinned, leaning down and picking up what looked like a rather large seed. There was still some fruit around it, and she dipped her mouth towards it, nibbling a bit of the pulp off.

It might have been a gross thing to do, but she was famished and this was the first moderately healthy thing she’d had all day. Of course, even this seemingly innocent treat was oversugared, saturated in sweet. She crinkled her nose, then a hand clapped on her shoulder.

The young woman stiffened, jumping half a foot into the air and clamping her hand over her mouth to suppress a scream. A good-natured laugh came from behind her, one which she could almost believe was honest were it not for its source.

“Sister, dearest.” Clive smirked. “You do know Father wants us on this tour for a reason, correct? We’d better make it back to the group before he notices you’re missing. It would be such a pity for you to earn his ire any earlier than I’d planned.”

It felt like there was a lump in her throat, and Charlotte swallowed hard. “Very funny.” She said, her eyes narrowing. The young man scoffed, spinning smartly on his heel and strutting back towards the group-perfectly in time to miss the distraught expression on Charlotte’s face.

Oh my God the pit’s not in my hand anymore. She swallowed hard again, realizing the lump in her throat was a rather literal one. “That had better not do anything to me…” She muttered, remembering the myths she’d heard about this freaky factory.

The girl increased her pace to walk back to the group, falling in line with Clive after a few second’s time. Unfortunately, it seemed all of the walking was taking its toll on her. She wasn’t feeling as peppy as normal, and her footsteps seemed to trudge slower and slower until she was in a tired slog.

Beads of sweat dewed at her face, sticky and thick. She wiped some away, grimacing at their sticky texture… Then pausing as she realized human sweat didn’t feel like that. This nectar was thick, like syrup. That’s not good.

Hurriedly, she stuck her hand into her mouth, licking her digits clean and whimpering as she tasted the same sweet flavor as before. At least, it was similar to the sweet flavor from earlier. This was fresher, even sweeter-and somehow less repulsive to her in spite of that.

The girl popped her fingers from her mouth audibly, and Clive turned to look at her. “Stop that.” He said, looking her up and down a moment later. “Good heavens, sister. You’re sweating like a stuck pig. Do you want me to call the group to stop for you? I’m sure that you could stand for a few moments of rest.”

Rest… Lying in the sun, basking in its rays… The thoughts sent a warm rush through her, and she almost accepted her brother’s offer. Then she remembered that she hated the odious little squit, and her lip curled with distaste. “I can handle myself, thank you very much.” She replied coolly.

The girl purposefully lifted her legs a little higher with her next steps, as though showing her bother of a brother that she was perfectly fine-even though she was pretty damned far from fine. It was like every step was taxing her, lead weights attached to her feet, covering her legs.

Charlotte sent an idle glance down to her legs, only for her eyes to widen as she caught sight of a thin stubble covering her tanned flesh-which in itself was another oddity. Charlotte had always been pale, a shade between marble and alabaster. Now her skin was positively peach.

She had to know what was happening to her, but she couldn’t do that with the group around herself. Her shirt itched, her breasts ached-and she couldn’t do anything about it. Unless, that is, she ducked away.

“I need to go.” She said immediately, a look of panic on her face. It was a moment before she’d realized she’d said it aloud, and another moment to realize Clive had heard her. The young man was looking to her with something approaching incredulity, disbelief printed on his features.

“Come again?” He asked, his aristocratic voice clipped with suspicion. “I can’t have heard that correctly.” He looked at her face, studying her for some sort of plot. Evidently he didn’t find any, because the dubious look on his face soon melted.

“Don’t let anyone know. I need to be… By myself for a bit. I’ll meet up with you in the next room-that’s the one with the slides, right?” She’d read the map as well as he had, and knew the next legs of the tour. She could duck out here, then cut through the park to reach the slides before anyone noticed.

Clive looked her in the eyes, then looked straight down to her legs. A slow smirk dawned across his face. “You ate something, didn’t you?” He asked, eyes glinting with mischief. “No need to answer that, you’ve always been a bad liar anyways. Go on and run off, I’ll keep this a secret between us. After all, we wouldn’t want the family name to be tarnished by such an unseemly transformation.”

Shame, embarrassment, relief. She felt all three, and tumbled from the path, haunted by the look in her sibling’s eyes. She ran, ran, and ran until she couldn’t move any longer, until her heaving chest hiked with every tremulous exhalation.

Heaving chest? I’ve never been well-endowed… The petite girl looked down, finding her a bosom she’d have killed for. Her hands lifted her heavy breasts in bewilderment, twin trickles of nectar seeping through her shirt as she did. A flush crossed her face, and she realized her bra was decidedly uncomfortable at the moment.

Quickly, Charlotte checked left, then right. If there was anyone around, then they were exceptionally good at hiding. “Screw it, if you’re watching, enjoy the show.” She said brusquely, bringing her hands behind herself, undoing her bra behind her shirt. It was harder to do than she’d expected, her oversized mammaries stubbornly refused her motions.

Thankfully, they didn’t restrict her completely, and she was able to extricate the cloth from behind herself. The girl blushed and smiled to herself as she felt sweet relief. It was fleeting, she learned a moment later. Her shirt began to feel tight, and not just around her chest. Worse, her skirt was tight too and her panties pressed hard against her dripping vagina.

Dripping? I mean… I guess I’m kind of horny… Her thoughts were jumbled as she looked past her growing paunch. She couldn’t make out her juice fountain past the fat, but she could feel its stream trickling down her legs.

Her legs wobbled as she made her way to a tree, falling against it and bringing both hands between her legs. She had to move her fat gut aside to do it, but the motion wasn’t as uncomfortable as she’d expected. Even if it had been, the sweet release of caressing her furry folds was worth it.

Furry? She looked to her arms, finding they were covered in that same peach fuzz as the rest of her. It led her to think that her sex was similarly covered, a thought that didn’t trouble her nearly as much as she should have. Foolishly, she chalked this up to the passion she was feeling deep in her heart. Little did she know it was the transformation beginning to mold her mind in time with her body.

The girl slipped a finger into her sex, then another, another, another still. It was like she was so much stretchier now, her body inhumanly willing to accept pleasure. A low, husky moan rolled from her chest to her throat, seeming to echo around the quiet glade she’d stumbled into.

Fuck… Peach… Sexy peach… The thoughts were unbidden but not unwelcome. Calling herself a peach made her folds contract, turning the girl into a literal fruit gusher. Fuck… Peach horny. Peach… Sexy peach… She moaned, lolling her head back, arching her back and snapping the buttons that lined her shirt in the process.

Her heavy breasts and belly bounced free, sending jiggles of motion through her body that did away with the rest of the clothes around herself. She was left naked, but wasn’t cold. Her fruity skin and the heat she so feverishly stoked between her loins kept her warm.

Fuck… Peachy… She moaned, her nipples perking with pleasure. Desperately, she grabbed her left tit, pulling her nipple towards her mouth and sucking on it, drinking her own juice. It tasted of sugary peach, and she guzzled more of it greedily.

Charlotte was so hot, so horny, so fat! Her right hand railed at her vagina as her left supported her bosom, and she desperately spoke around her nipple. “Peachy horny fuck me!” Thinking it brought pleasure, and saying it aloud blessed her with a full-body orgasm. Her folds clenched hard, and she screamed into her oversized breast as she squirted onto the ground.

“Sister dearest!” A mortified voice called, and Charlotte looked up to find her brother staring at her with shock. Worse, her father was behind him, as was the rest of their little tour group. One of the land whales from Arkansas lifted a camera, snapping a photo of the fruity girl for prosperity.

Clive turned towards their father, distress painted clear on his features. The little troll always had been a gifted actor. “Oh, if only I’d stopped her sooner! Whatever should we do? What can we do? Please, all of you, stop staring!”

Her father was irate, his thick moustache twitching as he thundered at Wonka. “What have you done to her?” He bellowed. Much to Charlotte’s consternation, she realized that as she watched this spectacle, she continued to rail herself with wanton abandon. Apparently shame didn’t counter lust.

“My, my. Dear, dear.” Wonka sighed, twirling his cane. He rested it on his shoulder, tapping a foot rapidly. “This really shouldn’t be, I fear. Everything edible here is stable. You should be able to eat what you’re able… Unless, of course, I must admit-if she were to eat a pit. But that would be ludicrous, silly, and brash! They might be edible, but they look like trash!”

“Oh, my poor vegan sister must have been so starved!” Clive wailed, throwing his hands into the air for effect. “Now look at her, reduced to such a fat peach slut!” His last three words struck a chord in the girl, and she fingerfucked herself harder, jiggling her girthy body.

Fat peach slut me fat Charlotte peach slut fuck cum Her thoughts were frantic as she struggled to regain some semblance of herself, shaking her head and jiggling her fat cheeks in the process. “Nuph! No!” She had to force the words out, her tongue swelling in her mouth, everything swelling.

The crowd gasped as the petite girl bulged, inhumanly so. It was like watching a hot air balloon being inflated, her body ballooning out and out and out. Her arm was pulled from her snatch, and the peach-girl rectified the situation by grinding against one of the tree’s knotted roots.

“Phhubbl!” She spat juice down her chin, eyes rolling in her head as her arms were lifted towards her sides. She jiggled her bloating body, eyes rolling within her head in bliss. Peach so good cumm cum more peach call me peach call Charlotte peach slut “Chbblarlotte bblbls peachuh slutttt!” She moaned, gushing over the root, soaking the dirt below her with her juicey cum.

“Wonka, you rhyming bastard! I’ll have your job for this if you don’t do something! This isn’t some vain girl or wanna-be star, this is my daughter! Change her back, or I’ll lead you to slaughter!” Her father grabbed Wonka by the lapels, only for the man to brush his hands away coolly.

“Now who’s rhyming, dear longtime friend? I’m afraid that this change though, it’s soon to end.” The man spun towards Charlotte, pointing his cane at her. “So there’s no time to waste, there’s no time to lose! Gather the Loompas, summon the crews! Lift her high, raise her bloated caboose! Take her to The Ward, hope there’s time to juice!”

“To juice?” Clive asked, curious. He hid a smile from the crowd, though it didn’t escape Charlotte’s notice, and continued. “You mean you’ll have her milked like some sort of berry-cow?” Charlotte could see her bloated body reflected in her eyes, and she realized she looked like an overinflated ball.

“Npphll!” She tried to scream, but couldn’t manage it over her puffing lips. Her hands and feet wiggled, though the rest of her limbs were swallowed by fat. This was terrifying, and insanely so. Charlotte no want milk, want juice! Her thoughts were simplifying, slowed by the thick syrup that surrounded her brain.

“No, the cows are on the prairie I’ll take you to after. For now, ladies, gents, please hide your laughter. The Loompas are coming, they’re all on their way-and I’ll thank you not to giggle at what they must say. It’s tradition, you see, and still going strong. Though you’re all quite welcome to please sing along.” Wonka hummed as little orange men ran out from the surrounding woods.

Charlotte squeaked as she felt hands along her peel, and her hands and feet popped back into her bloated, round, huge body. Her head began to sink into the rest of her as they started to sing-though it wasn’t fast enough to drown out their words.

“Oompa Loompa Doompety Do
I’ve got a fun, song written for you.
Oompa, Loompa, Doompety Deech
About someone who’s less girl than peach.

What do you get when a curious guest
Separates herself from all the rest?
Eating a pit, swallowing in surprise
Now she’s just a juicy prize!

(And my what a rotund one)

Oompa Loompa Doompety Dee
Though all the foods here are yours for free
Oompa Loompa Doompety Dit
Please try not to swallow the pit!”

With that, they rolled her off, her head sinking back within the confines of her thick rind. She was… It was so hard to think. Her last sight was of her shouting father, jealous brother, apologetic tour guide. Even that was getting harder and harder for her to process.

Peach… Peach cum… Juiced… Juice peachy peach… Every thought she had was slowing to a thick, syrupy crawl. She couldn’t remember who she was, couldn’t recall anything about herself. All she knew was that she was a peach.

A deliciously ironic vegetative state swept across the fruit as she slipped into the lull of being a fat peach. To the Loompa’s credit, they were able to juice her in time to keep her from bursting. But that was the only mercy the peach got.

The rest of her life would be spent as a fruit, fat and full. She’d be juiced every hour on the hour, one of the most profitable peaches in the plant. Never again would she return to humanity, never again would she awaken. Charlotte was a peach forevermore.