"Bonk, Bonk!" [Clown TF]
#1 of Bonk, Bonk!
In which a very naughty boy becomes a very clowny girl. The kind you can take home to mother, but I wouldn't recommend it.
You don't have to be afraid to put your dreams in action You never gonna fade you'll be the main attraction - Make It Shine (Victorious Theme) - Victorious cast
The young man nodded at the attendant as he walked into the store's changing room carrying a pair of jeans.
They were two sizes too small, but he doubted anyone would notice. And if they somehow did, he could say he hadn't noticed until he hit the changing room. And if they asked why he had spent so much time in there with the wrong pants, he was trying to force them on, without admitting that he had gained a few pounds.
Of course, he could've just gotten regularly-sized jeans in the first place. But it wouldn't be as fun without risk.
He locked the door behind him very carefully, hung up the jeans, and then dropped his cargo shirts so they fell around his ankles.
In the mirror, the man that faced him was in his late twenties, with long, slightly wavy brown hair falling down to his chin, and shadowed eyes. He had lost a lot of sleep on this.
He pulled the condom out of his pocket, and unwrapped it as quietly as possible.
It was tight. He could barely get it over the head, and no farther than that without hurting himself. That was okay. As long as he didn't make too big a mess, he could just use the hand sanitizer and handkerchief in his pocket.
But what would he do with the full condom?
Not important.
He had to be quiet. He had chosen a low-traffic time of day. On the one hand, this meant that there would be less people to potentially notice him, on the other hand, he would stick out to the attendant or on security tapes if anything went wrong.
But what if he didn't? What if she could...enjoy himself in public, in front of everyone? What if they would laugh and applaud?
Focus.
His hips and thighs expanded into voluptuous, feminine masses. Aside from looking grabbable, they made him look bottom heavy. Silly.
Funny.
How long had he had this fetish, anyway? How long had he wanted to find a changing room and just...cut loose? It felt like forever, but it was really just after he got the condom and...
Wait, where did he get it, anyway?
Not important.
It wasn't important.
He bit his lower lip. Said lips were growing redder, plumper, until he resembled Angelina Jolie after a bee-sting. His scrubby beard receded into his skin, and the planes of his face grew softer. Even the wrinkles were smoothed away.
His skin got a little paler each time he pumped. Not enough for any observer to notice, of course.
Not at first.
Oddly enough, his nose was growing darker, redder, almost inflamed. And then bulbous, cherry-red, candy-like.
He looked, of course, ridiculous. Even before two vertical marks faded into view under his eyes, looking not unlike teardrop gang tattoos from someone who didn't quite grasp the concept.
If he was discovered now, everyone would just point and laugh. A blush bloomed in his cheeks at the thought.
The neck of his shirt flowed upward, before forming a choker around his neck. It suddenly flared into a ruffle from nowhere, in a manner that many a prom-going teenager would have given their eyeteeth for.
The rest of the T-shirt went down, to form a sort of halter top. There wasn't much to do the actual halting, but that was soon rectified, as his chest swelled into a Playboy playmate-grade pair.
Well, given everything else that went with it, more like Penthouse Forum.
The stretched band logo on his top faded, even as the shirt itself brightened. Folds in the cloth turned into red-trimmed ribbing, and the corset cinched his waist in sharply. He drew in a sharp breath - shallower now, what with the lack of space - at the way it boosted his chest, how it massaged his new endowments. His left hand, trembling, gently cupped one of his mounds, stroked the copious flesh, pinched the nipple slightly. His eyes closed, and she hissed.
The purple latex was halfway down, now. Strangely enough, it seemed to be rolling down the more he pumped.
She'd be humiliated. Ruined. A public laughingstock.
The blush deepened.
People from the Internet would track him down and...and...do things...
The man's greasy, dishwater-dull hair, chock full of unsightly split ends, started to brighten to a fire-hydrant red, twining itself into ringlets without iron nor curler. Her hair was now the exact sort of thick, grabbable texture that invited anyone to grab it, tangle their hands in it, draw him into a kiss, or to pull him down into a...a...
There's a sucker born every minute.
Exactly. He was a sucker. And, should the occasion permit, a licker. Spitter or swallower were questions for another time, however.
The purple latex reached the base of his cock, and he adjusted his grip as silk gloves appeared on his hands. They lost traction, but felt more like, like -
There was a sharp spike down below, and his free hand moved from his breast to his balls. Or where they should have been. His finger slipped into a cleft that probably hadn't been there when he walked into the store, and the feeling of his new lips parting sent him right over the edge.
He almost cried out, but at the last moment turned her satisfied exclamation into a long hiss. No point falling at the finish line.
The condom bulged. It looked kinda like a balloon, now, despite the fact that it looked like it was being filled entirely with air.
It felt like he was pumping everything he was, everything she had been in his boring old _regular_body, into the not-so-little purple condom. The increasingly big condom. In fact, he couldn't even feel his dick anymore; it just felt like he was squeezing air. The sensation from his dick was fading, fading -
For some reason, he wasn't concerned when the balloon slipped out of his grip and into the air, trailing a string. It did strike her as funny, though, and she giggled, then laughed, sending her breasts bouncing up and down. It looked just like a hot dog!
As her mirth petered out, she ran a finger over her cleft and the red hair, in the form of a trio of arrows, pointing at it.
Good, now the rubes wouldn't get lost.
She traced a finger up from the Main Attraction, up the gentle curve of her stomach, between her ample breasts, looking at herself in the mirror all the time.
So hot.
She tried to spin, and nearly fell over.
Oh, right.
She reached down, and pulled up the fluffy skirt that had been his cargo shorts. Layers of alternating pink and lavender. The theme was continued in the Stockings Formerly Known As Socks; the left pink stripes on dark purple, the right light purple dots on magenta. They really did a good job of showing off her pins, which were really her best feature.
After her boobs.
And her butt.
And everything else.
There were a few inches of creamy thigh between the tops of the stockings and the ruffles. Enough to draw people to the tent, not enough to ruin the show, so to speak.
His shoes, boring old Crocs, had been brightened up; now they were three-inch platforms. Red, of course.
She spun on them gracefully, and fondly regarded her derrière. Mischievously, she stuck her tongue at herself over her pale shoulder. And then she shook her bootylicious, clownalicious tushie at herself. The ruffles accented the movement nicely. Who could resist?
Someone knocked on the door.
"Sir? Are you okay in there?"
The clown pulled a bottle of spritzer and a polka-dotted cloth out of her ruffles and began wiping the mirror. "Come iiin!" she trilled.
The attendant, a young woman in an ugly smock, did.
"Wasn't there a man in here?"
The clown giggled. "He's gone. Left his pants, though."
"I...I didn't see you come in. And why are you cleaning the mirror?"
"Because it was dirty." She rolled her eyes. "Duh. And I'm very sneaky."
The associate stared at the shapely six-foot clown clad in purple and pink, who would stand out in a nuclear explosion.
"Okay," she said. "Well, if you're not trying on any clothes, you have to leave."
"What about those pants?"
"I don't think they're your style. Not colorful enough. Also, men's."
"Aww, you're sweet. Here, have a balloon!"
"...Thanks? No, I can just..."
When the clown squeezed past her, she _really_squeezed. Certain protruding portions of her anatomy rubbed against certain portions of the smaller woman's anatomy, despite the height difference. She smelt like talcum powder and sawdust. It was...nice, even if she wasn't into...clowns.
And then the strange woman was gone, leaving only the purple balloon tied around a wrist. There wasn't a phone number written on it - not that she was really interested, of course, just curious - and it smelt kinda funny.
And then, for no reason she could think of, she pulled down the balloon and licked it.
It tasted funny.
She giggled.
ENDF "Bonk Bonk!" (CC) By-SA-NC 2014 Nequ
Commission by NULL_VALUE.
As far as TG scenarios go, I'd say "his dick turns into a balloon and floats off" is pretty original.
Right about the time I started this, a hidden camera was found in changing rooms at Hammonasset State Park, Connecticut. I like to imagine the reaction of someone who had a camera up in this situation, and got some pervy dude turning into a clown girl.
Color scheme inspired by this NSFW picture by LordDragonMaster.
