Daniels was your average American man. Living alone in the fast moving lights and sounds of the city far apart from the rest of his family still making well for themselves out in the sandy plains of the Texan wilderness. With their income from bountiful harvest and a lifetime of tilling fields, handling animals and enjoying the howling peace of their humble abode, the rest of Daniels' family saw no need or reason to move, forcing Daniels to make the absurd trip all the way down south whenever he needed to pay them a visit.

And being the red blooded patriots they were, Daniels had no choice but to return every year whenever the 4th of July rolled around. While the long travel times were exhausting, the feast and celebrations held at the family farm were a sight to behold. Delicious food, accomodating people and just a day of festivities to forget he had to return to the city to resume his taxing job as a middle class paper pusher.

What Daniels wasn't aware of however, was that a certain group composed of shady goons and black hearted individuals had established a base of sorts. A staging ground for illegal fights set to take place on the coming celebration of American independence. Promising the appearance of a well known face in the scene and with an even greater reward promised to whoever managed to best the VIP, a large amount of cash weighed heavily on this thing going off without a hitch.

Except they hadn't expected their fraudulent claims to draw that much attention, and with so many well known groups and people vying to partake in the challenge, they had no way out, left with no choice but to find a way to pull off their promises or risk losing their heads to the trained assassin's and hitmen sent after them should they ever be found out.

 Luckily for them however, connections to the darker side of the criminal underworld with far reaching hands entwined within the higher echelons of government and military alike were there to provide their salvation; an experimental serum of unknown origin provided by a nameless benefactor whose only request for payment was the constant monitoring and results of the blood red vial's effects on the human body. Needing genetic material to function, a rugged old fellow had come forward with some of his own; blonde strands of perfectly preserved hair from said VIP they had totally made up, carefully dropping the strands into the ominous vial, watching as blonde silk begins to corrode, devoured by hungry microbes until nothing remained.

Just like that, it was primed and ready to go. Slowly taking on a bright magenta colored hue with angry bubbles and froth roiling at its surface.

Now all that remained was for a living human being to imbibe the gene mix. Designed to behave like a virus, the fruity juice would alter the genetic makeup of whoever was unlucky enough to end up with it flowing within their body until nothing but a perfect copy of the gene donor remained…albeit with one or two 'necessary' tweaks to ensure complete obedience to the first person caught in their vision in addition to some bountiful upgrades…

With their eyes initially set on the nearby farm up the road to nab an unsuspecting victim from, the ringleader of the soon to be brawling ring begins making preparations, only to perk his ears up at the sound of an approaching vehicle right before loading a tranq gun into the back of the truck, lowering his sunglasses with a smirk before lighting a flare and tossing it into the hood of his car, followed by the satisfying crackle of burning wires and popping metal, either the driver would prove to be a good Samaritan and come rushing over to help, or he would simply snipe out the wheels before nabbing him. Not one to be underestimated, the weathered old mobster disguised as a farmer would have his way. And with the serum raring to go, he was itching to put it to good use after hearing talk about the VIP not yet in attendance.

"What the hell was that? Did he pop a fuse or something?"

Blasting down the empty stretch of sandy road, Daniels almost had to stop to glimpse the sight of what looked like an abandoned farmhouse coming up over the horizon. He could understand if it was a new establishment but the place looked derelict and aged even from a distance. After crossing through this place year after year, he'd have to be blind to miss a place that large.

But more importantly was the sudden flash of red light followed by the dull thud of a minor explosion. From the small plume of smoke rising into the air though, he could tell the engine or whatever it was had gone kaput. Turning to look at the clock, he still had a good three hours left till the evening. Even though it was still the 3rd, his father was a stickler for timing and would tan his ass an ornery red if he was even a second late, making him second guess his desire to help the raggedy man he could see checking out the damage. Sighing in the face of this moral dilemma, Daniels stomps down on the brakes, sealing his fate after his gaze locks with the hapless middle aged farmer.

'’Dad wouldn't say no to helping a fellow man in need though would he?'

Getting out of the car, Daniels takes a moment to digest the sight of the abandoned site, rubbing his head in mild confusion. From the rusted sheet metal and cracked wood posts, this place should've been here for a good decade or two…that's if it all didn't look so fake; barely any sign of weathering, no dust or sand encrusted into every surface. And the placement of things just didn't make sense. This had to be a set piece or something a bored individual decided to pull on a whim.

"Hey there stranger! Glad you decided to stop by and help!"

And as his eyes shift to the owner of the smoking truck just a few feet up the gentle slope leading to the farmhouse, Daniels feels a tingle run down his spine at the sight of the innocuous man who looked to be in his early fifties. Like he was staring down a charging bear instead of a fellow human being shooting him a warm comforting smile.

He couldn't afford to be so paranoid…but neither could he afford to drop his guard around a total stranger.

'Must be because of all the traveling…I really need to stop overthinking things…'

Shaking off his worries before accepting the stranger's outstretched hand, Daniels gives the ruin an acknowledging nod before kicking the conversation off.

"Saw that spark of yours from a mile away…what's up with this place anyway? You the owner?"

"This wreck? Or the junkyard? Hahah! I'm just as confused as you are…decided to take a look see when my busted ol' clunker decided to blow its load all over…you wouldn't happen to be a gearhead now wouldja?"

"Well…depending on the damage…I might not be able to fix it sir…"

"Haha! What're you sounding so hesitant for? I'm sure you've fixed plenty of your own troubles, surely this won't prove too much?"

As the old man continues to guffaw, Daniels rubs his chin in worry while accompanying him back to the truck, eyeing the smocking mess beneath the hood with uncertainty. Judging from the stench of something burning bad and the scorch marks over the machinery, it was probably better to call for towing services and get it repaired at a garage or something. But this far out in the wilds of Texas and with a few hours left till nightfall? It would probably take hours for any help to arrive.

Interrupted by a tap of his shoulder, Daniels turns to face the kindly man. Who seemed to have an offer of his own to make.

"Tell ya what, give it a shot and I'll pop round back to see if there's any scrap or whatever we can use to get it up to shape. There's a reward in it if ya do! Hell, I've even got some drinks round back…tomorrow's the 4th ain't it? So I don't think it'd be too bad to get the celebrations goin'with some extra pay before the big shebang. Whaddya say huh?"

"Wait…why pay me even if I can't get it working again?"

"You're a smart one aren't you? Ever heard of 'incentive'? Of course y'could just turn and walk, I'm sure the repairmen would greatly appreciate the cash…c'mon, entertain an old flame would you?"

Now that was an interesting proposition…get paid and attempt to fix a busted car…with extra earnings if he actually succeeded…unless he quit, there was no way he'd lose either way.

"Hrmm…if you say so…but how much are we talking about here?"

"A hundred and fifty do it for you? If you actually do succeed, there'll be another four hundred to add to the pile."

"Hell, that's good money…I'll see what I can do then."

He knew of course that it was less money than what it would cost for an auto service crew to come all the way out here to haul the thing back for a refit. But Daniels wasn't out to scam the man of his hard earned dough so a hundred and fifty would have to do. Not like he was hurting for cash anyway. And if the old man's search brought up any parts that had miraculously….survived…then hey, half a thousand bucks wasn't a bad scratch at all.

"Nice to hear it! Oh! And the names Wilson…you're a good kid Daniel's…"

"Woah, how'd you-"

"Your wallet in the car, unless that stickers not yours, then i'm sorry for assumin' your identity!"

"No offense taken…huh…"

Looks could certainly be deceiving, and this Wilson fellow was proving to be quite the character. Eagle eyed vision and a knack for entertainment aside, Daniels had to wonder if he was related to the people who built this place. Although he believed the man's story somewhat…coming all the way out here just to check on some ruins for scrap seemed…strange.

‘There it is again…gotta stop doing it…'

Redirecting his worrisome mind to the matter at hand, Daniels grabs the abandoned gloves lying by the hood before getting to work, brushing aside the smoke to get a better look at the ruined innards of the otherwise pristine all terrain vehicle.

Unbeknownst to him however, the quick thinking mobster had already booked up a trap wired up to the damaged engine, triggering it as he walks by into the shed with a satisfactory click, followed by a makeshift clasp unfurling to let loose a batch of the pink fluid, instantly sizzling into a plume of barely distinguishable vapors that blend in with the darkness of the smoke, rising up before slipping into Daniels' body undetected through his skin, triggering a slow series of changes that go unnoticed as the microbial invaders begin their work; taking in cells before churning them out as something…no, someone else's altogether.

Beginning with the hands beneath the leathery gloves, which had already begun to take on a pale coloration when compared to his former tan, the wirey flesh composing his digits and palms start to ripple before ebbing like the disturbed surface of a pond, slowly losing mass with each passing wave as hair follicles fade alongside tempered muscle, leaving baby smooth skin behind covering a soft yet firm layer of flesh that bounces to the touch, ending with wide sausage like fingers mellowing into dainty twigs tipped with clean and polished nails.

While hairy forearms continue to scour themselves clean of any remaining imperfections as supple flesh fills in alongside amped up musculature to form a rolling silhouette of well toned, curvy arms, Wilson returns from the shed with a rusted toolbox in one hand and a bottle of fizzy drink in the other, casting a hidden glance at the changes afflicting Daniels, careful not to get too close to the smoke while plopping his loot down beside his unwitting test subject.

"How're the repairs going? Damn, you're really working up a sweat there. I've got some drinks here if you need it…oh, and not to forget the tools. Not sure what good they'll do but that's all I could find…"

"Ahh, thanks, it's getting real hot out here, might need to start taking off my clothes before I burn to death!"

"Why don't you go ahead and do so? Nothing stopping you right?"

Normally two men wouldn't think to go shirtless, especially when one of them was an elderly figure. But Daniels unabashedly begins to strip, finding nothing wrong as his jacket, then jeans come tumbling off, leaving him with nothing but a singlet and his tighty whities to cover him up. But before those could go, Wilson scoffs back a derogatory laugh before waving Daniels off, seemingly oblivious to the way he had agreed so quickly to his offhanded statement.

And with his clothes off, Wilson could already see the effects of the substance continuing upwards over Daniels' feminised hands; crunching broad shoulders inward while obese layers of fat earned from hours spent sitting in front of a computer on a daily basis begin to burn away with the remainder being redirected across his body, gathering in new locations perfect for nurturing expanded hips, a tight and firm bubble butt, bodaceous curves, a soft yet hardened navel composed with equal layers of soft fat and ripe muscle, but most importantly; big fat tits beginning to sag forth over a flat chest, led by wrinkled brown nubs that slowly begin to ripen into swollen tips twitching in the warm afternoon sun in as ancient nerves within the bloating mammaries fire up in tune to the synapses within Daniels' brain being prodded and tweaked by the spreading infection. Still mindlessly working away at the engine despite the hefty weights now hanging off and tenting his sweat soaked singlet.

But a dissatisfied Wilson knew the pace was slowing, and he was becoming too engrossed with watching the action unfold before his very eyes. He'd ruin the surprise for himself at this rate.

Popping open the bottle, Wilson empties out the rest of the contents within the vial before handing it over to Daniels, looking up from his work to a grinning Wilson.

"Why don't you go take a drink…I'll just…pop back inside for another check…who knows, we might just strike it lucky~"

"T-Thanks for that…mmm, this really hits the spot!"

Masking his perception from the changes occurring to his body, the man saw no problem with imbibing the tainted bottle of pepsi all while sounding like a high pitched children's toy, the gruff edge in his voice long faded when the changes were done leaving his thick neck a slim shapely extension with the removal of his Adam's Apple. And the more he drank, the faster the changes occured, reinvigorated by the fresh insertion of serum as cracked lips wrapped around the bottle head plump up into swollen pink pillows alongside narrow eyes widening into sleek slits framing sea blue pearls beginning to dull as thought and concern begin to fade, no longer feeling the urgency of having to rush for a pre Independence Day family gathering or the excitement of walking away a little bit richer. Not like escape was an option anymore of course…

By the time Wilson vanishes into the shed with one last chuckle, Daniels could barely be called a man anymore with how voluptuous his obese figure had become, straightening out his arched back with a pained groan that morphs midway through into an orgasmic sigh vocalized through a mature, heavily accented country gal's voice in response to a still changing skeletal structure stretching in tune to his girly movements and hyper feminised mannerism; long muscle clad legs crossed at the knees accentuating thickened thighs squeezed tight by damp underwear straining against the expanded girth of broad hips jutting out to one sjde , glove clad fingers clenched gingerly with a slight outward facing slant to the wrist, a gorgeous head held upright and high, unashamed to bear its beauty for the world to gaze upon as slick brown threads unravel into blonde strands of lustrous string pouring down past narrow shoulders, a slanted spine healed of bad posture curving to add emphasis to an impressive pair of H cup tits now lying comfortably over a tight core, showing off plenty of cleavage and tummy with how tented Daniels' ill fitting singlet had become.

And as the bulge in his sopping wet underwear begins to twitch and deform, Daniels could no longer be called so. With a womanly voice drawing heavily from his Texan descent and a body to match its sonorous allure, it was clear the man was soon about to become a full fledged woman. Unable to notice a single thing even now while removing small waifish hands from the odorous grasp of leather gloves to run through a newly grown mane of shining blonde hair reaching far enough to tickle the rump of a well bred female, bouncing just a little to emphasize how grabbable they were despite the firmness within the heart shaped peaches clad in warm rosy skin free of blemish just like the rest of his body.

Except with the final gasp of a fading manhood alongside an unnoticed spurt of cum soiling the already damp underwear, Daniels transition from average American male to a Victoria's Secret model sporting an athletic build to shame most men was complete. Giggling to herself while rubbing her thighs together, uncaring of the thick dribble of baby batter running down the length of her calves staining her oversized boots, before those too go flying.

One would think being transformed into a woman would be cause enough to start panicking, but Daniels didn't seem to mind one bit. Bending over to pick at the toolbox, the sight of her own tremendous bosom and the way the warm air tickled the void between her legs should've been enough to give away the fact that she was not a man any longer.

But the thing is, would someone really be concerned if their own mind, their own memories, told them that this was how they were supposed to look like since the very beginning? A fact attested to when Daniels begins adjusting her sopping singlet, shredding it in the middle before tying it into a makeshift top that squeezes her melons together, letting loose another vapid giggle at the feel of her own sweat pooling in her cleavage.

Alongside the physical changes, the gene mix had made sure to alter Daniels' brain; changing thought processes, warping memories, amping up her sex drive, soiling her morals and twisting her allegiances. Basing it all off on the donor's original set with some added changes here and there.

Said donor (and the VIP slated to appear at this underground wrestling match despite her not knowing about it) was none other than Tina Armstrong; a hot headed Texan bred wrestler well known for her Amazonian looks and flirtatious pomp. Not afraid to bear her beauty, the woman utilised her sex appeal as much as she did her fighting skills. Taught and trained personally by the world's strongest wrestler himself in part thanks to his desire for his daughter to follow in his footsteps, Tina was as strong as she was beautiful, capable of holding her own against many fighters hailing from all over the world, adapting to numerous fighting styles and overcoming them all, with even her own father unable to match up to her.

Except Daniels, now firmly believing she was Tina, had herself a new set of memories that didn't quite follow along those lines. In fact, her head had been stripped quite clean of anything related to Daniels or the original Tina, left with nothing but bare bones instructions and imagery that would trigger in response to two things; the sight of her master and any order that came from their mouth.

Instead of the actual Tina, the gang had themselves a surface level clone more akin to a robotic slave than a free thinking human being. She had Tina's looks, skills and personality, but other than that? Daniels had thoroughly been erased from existence in both body and mind; eased into believing this new existence of hers so easily she had been spared the pain of forgetting everything she once knew bit by bit. Replaced by a life that wasn't hers and skills she should've been repulsed by.

With the last of her innards morphing to completion with the manifestation of a fully functional female reproductive system as testes become ovaries flanking a heated womb and a tight organic tunnel flowers forth connected to plump labia lips pressed up tight where there was none before, Tina pulls back from her work, sighing in satisfaction after cranking a few gears, fiddling with wiring and patching up some damaged components. Leaving black stains across the length of her hands with minor smudges around her belly and tight waistline from grazing against the hood multiple times.

"Now that's gonna be purrin' nicely for a good long time now…Wilson's bound to be mighty pleased! Speakin'of…"

Turning her head towards the barn where the weathered man had vanished earlier, the scantily dressed Texan slut struts off towards the half open doors, sashaying her way there as if the dusty ground beneath her bare feet were the neon lit panels of a catwalk.

Pushing past the door and into the dark interior lit only by the warm hues of a setting sun, a catcall from the dark catches Tina's attention, smiling from ear to ear as she senses a pair of eyes strip her down, eye fucking her tempting body from every angle, clearly impressed by what he sees.

"Hohoh! When the boys spoke of you, I knew you'd be a knockout…but I wasn't expecting the hottest piece of ass I've ever seen to come waltzing in here…to think you were that fatass lard from earlier…damn!"

She knew enough not to speak but to remain standing still, smiling vindictively while slowly swaying her buxom figure to the rhythm of a tune only she could hear. Only ever letting loose the softest of sighs when Wilson eventually emerges from his corner, walking over to inspect his prize, eager to lay his hands over her curves, indulging in her soft hide and supple flesh as callused hands run over every inch of her body, tracing the clerk contours of her chin, cupping a breast, giving her tight tummy a rub and ending off with a flick to her groin that sends a shiver of excitement running through her.

By the time he was done, the waterfall down her legs had renewed in strength, dousing the hay and wood below with droplets of Tina's love.

Before a loud thump snaps her out of her lust stricken stupor, looking down at the source to find a new pair of cowboy boots that would fit her dainty legs quite nicely.

Not needing to catch Wilson's expecting gaze to realize what he wanted of her, Tina wordlessly scoops the boots up before moving over to a rather posh leather couch that stood out from the wrecked surroundings, planting her firm ass over the seat and wasting no time in putting in her new apparel.

But even with the boots tucked firmly over her feet, Wilson still looked unsatisfied, standing with hands tucked firmly in his pockets. Gaze directed over her makeshift top and damp men's underwear that had been crushed and squeezed to the point where they resembled scrunched up panties. Eliciting a string of giggles from Tina once she catches on, pulling down her underwear while tearing off her top, letting the ruined fabric crumple to the ground in a heap.

"Really now Wilson? Can't strip me on your own?"

"You know how I like my women dear, now do us both a favor and get your naked butt on the ground."

"Don't have to tell me twice darlin'~"

Kneeling on the ground before planting her bosom into the ground, the perfect Tina replica eyes Wilson up like a hungry dog, biting her lip with a husky purr and a sway to her heart shaped rump. Not a single trace of the naive family man left in her vapid blue eyes. The original was daring but she would never willingly prostrate herself before any man besides her one true love and Daniels would rather bed a warm body, preferably a sexy babe much like the woman she had unwittingly been turned into. Except instead of doing the rough work, Tina would find herself on the opposite side of the fence as her exposed snatch twitches at the feel of Wilson’s immense member prodding the sensitive lips of her labia, pushing past wet folds until forcefully thrusting in, filling her vaginal walls and knocking against her baby chamber in one go, forcing a guttural moan out of the wanton fighter at the ecstasy of her first penetration. Eager for more as powerful arms brace her jiggling form against her man’s relentless pounding, smirking as he sends the rest of his gang a picture of Tina’s bare back before him, a firm hand planted over the right cheek of her ass.

Until the 4th rolled over, Wilson had a woman in the likeness of Tina Armstrong ready to do his every bidding. And one night was more than enough for him to break their VIP into her new role as the gang's cash cow. If her skills in the ring were as they claimed, then the money they would earn from the endless parade of fools looking to best the daughter of the world’s strongest wrestler with the winner being granted the opportunity to sleep with the lady herself would be immense. With her new loyalties lying in the gang and only the gang thanks to the hard coded gene manipulators, this new Tina would only be spreading her legs for her partners in crime.But even then, they weren’t safe from her voracious appetite for sex as Wilson would soon come to realize as he empties his first load inside Tina’s succulent innards, expecting the girl to flop down in defeat…

By the time a chilly evening fades in favor of a sunny Independence Day morning, the barn reeked of sex and Wilson was left in a heap, milked dry by the insatiable lust of the group’s newest member as the rest of the men return to prepare for the arrival of the first few attendees looking to celebrate the 4th in addition to the grand finale to culminate the party with.

After a long day spent entertaining the guests while swapping in with pleasure duty to keep Tina satiated until the night’s events began, the drinking and celebratory reverie amongst some of America’s most violent and patriotic criminals fades to silence, bristling with an eager energy to see blood spilled and bodies broken, eager to see a show starring the  legendary Tina Armstrong herself and the lucky man who could best her in combat. Whooping and jeering the moment the barn doors swing open to Tina’s confident arrival as the clock strikes 9, leering at the beautiful powerhouse many of them could only dream of touching while she shoots them all a flirtatious look, strutting out in the most skimpiest getup that rivaled the ones they had seen her in when the fiery warrior with big dreams had made her first appearance in the Dead or Alive fighting tournaments.

Settling in the middle of the rowdy crowd, the proud blondie puts a hand up for attention, silencing the unruly men with her loud, heavily accented voice ringing out loud and clear over the rabble.

“So good to see how many of you boys came for lil ‘ol me! Some of y’all seen my face in magazines…others have probably heard one or two of my rockin’ songs…but I ain’t looking to play around tonight, and if you’re as American as I am, then y’all should know tonight’s the 4th and it ain’t Independence Day without some…mmmhm~ Well, you catch my drift…so? What’re y’all waitin’ for? Come at me!”

Starting off with one or two flunkies that immediately get their faces forcefully combined with the dusty earth beneath, Tina’s invitation for an all out brawl begins in earnest as two, then three, then more start to enter the circle, each one hoping to find some way to break the pro wrestler’s guard. But no matter what dirty tricks or feints they pulled, the experienced warrior had seen it all. Countering, anticipating and bouncing back (sometimes literally) from each attempt at knocking her out. Although the only notable one to stick around inside her mind was an exceptionally flexible man that had tried to finger her into submission, only for his unfortunate hand to be pulverized underneath her ass as she slips and falls from the momentary spasm of pleasure running through her.

Despite the momentary distraction however, Tina’s pool of combatants would run dry far before the clock even hits midnight, signaling an end to the brawl with no definitive winner. Although there were some protests, a subtle raise of Tina’s fists and the arrival of her armed gang mates was more than enough to discourage the men from attempting to recover their losses. With an injured Wilson watching satisfied from inside the shed, the weary man shakily withdraws his phone before sending in a finalized report to their benefactor on the effects of the serum.

With that first success, the gang would waste no time in devising more events while making sure to lay low between each run so as to let the hype die down alongside the heat from the men they would no doubt end up wronging. And with the earnings from each ‘event’ being enough for all of them to live like kings for a year or two, they had relegated the use of their successful copy of Tina Armstrong to an annual basis. For underground fighting of course, the insatiable minx, despite being their loyal puppet, slept around with them all, quickly becoming the heart of the party with her boisterous persona and wholesome personality.

And in preparation for their next gig in a more pleasant locale, Tina’s clone, lounging in nothing but a cowboy hat and an overly tight, skimpy bikini burning with patriotic energy out in the sun looking a little bit more plumper a year after more than a few rounds with her mates would remain blissfully ignorant of the life she had been snatched away from, making friends amongst the people who had shackled her in the first place, seeing nothing wrong with that outcome whatsoever, shooting Wilson a snarky smile as he exits the homely cottage the ground had bought for their current base of operations.

Tina got to fight, make her fame, live free and satisfy her urges with a warm stud whenever she wanted, what more was there in life could she ever want?

THE END