The Fatal Cutie
Despite his hard-nosed, street style of fighting and macho masculine physique and look—a plain white t with an open, red vest jacket, snappy blue jeans, red sneakers, and his signature red and white trucker cap that displayed with fierce, streaking red text Fatal Fury—Terry was very friendly, caring, and charismatic. He had made friends with many amazing fighters from around the world and always looked to forge new friendships, rivals, and even admirers. Lately, he had been sparring with one of his fans, Alice, a very cheerful, blond, lean and petite former idol-mascot turned fighter, who for as long as Terry had known her had been trying to emulate his style of fighting. She had come a long way and he felt proud that he could inspire someone to reach such a level. He had agreed to train with her for a week while she was visiting in the U.S. She was late to her lesson today, not a rare occurrence.
“Alice, where are ya?” Terry called out in frustration. This was starting to get old. “You better not be messing around in my locker again!” Alice would often scurry off from their training to steal or mess with some of Terry’s clothes which he kept in the locker at the gym they worked out at.
Heading into the locker room, he caught sight of Alice. She was using a red marker to write on one of his spare hats, though he didn’t yet see so himself. She had whitened out the text that read “Fury” and was now scribbling in her own message.
“You know you are in the men’s locker room right?” Terry snickered, catching Alice off guard. Alice jumped to her feet looking like a nervous child who had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been.
Terry then saw what Alice had done to one of his hats. He owned many, so it was of little concern to him. Even so, he thought he should get back at her in some way, so acted disgruntled and angry. It worked more effectively than he expected, scaring Alice out of the room. She was likely heading straight home out of embarrassment.
“See you tomorrow! Same time!” Terry said with a laugh. He walked over to see the damage the odd girl had done. It now read on the hat “Fatal Cutie”. Obviously a flirty response by his admirer.
“That girl…”
Terry was drenched in sweat from working out earlier and didn’t want to go home sweating like a pig, so he changed into the new pair he had in his locker, even putting on the vandalized hat. It was a short walk home so it shouldn’t be a big deal, not that he cared about what others might think.
Terry hadn’t made it 3 feet before he felt odd warmth filling his body, channeling down from the hat. He initially tried to shake it off, figuring it was some form of minor exhaustion. However, his entire body began to tremble. Even worse, he could feel every muscle within his body begin to pulsate; throbbing like each bundle of meaty fibers possessed its own heartbeat. This was no mere bodily response to exhaustion.
Leaning against a wall—bracing himself as his legs began to lose their power to stand upright with his body—he groaned, “S-Something’s wrong… gh, Alice…? Someone, gah, what’s happening!?”
Soon, even Terry’s bones were aching, an uncomfortableness that reminded him of growing pains as a child. Except, he wasn’t growing, but shrinking! He looked down in horror as he witnessed the ground pushing closer towards his face. His muscles too were shrinking, shriveling up. All that strength he had spent years building up, that was his pride as a fighter and a man, were withering away. Bit, by bit, his prized body became merely a lean, toned version of its former glory. He was still fit, his arms showing some decent definition, but it wasn’t the same, not by a long shot.
As the shrinking pains and muscular throbbing ceased, Terry stepped back from the wall and looked in utter shock at what had become of him. He looked so much thinner now, and his skin was so much softer and glossy against the light. His feet felt smaller, as did his hands, which upon closer inspection were very feminine in appearance. Terry never ogled too much at women, he was far too much of a gentleman for that, but he’d gotten a good look at Alice’s hands often while working close with her. His hands were definitely of a similar nature now to hers.
Looking over his androgynous body, feeling his slender shoulders, and mentally weeping over his faded abs, Terry panicked, Could this be… This body is starting to look so much like a woman—no! no! This is crazy! This can’t be!
Suddenly, Terry felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Keeling over, he felt his stomach convulsing and sucking inward, much of the mass traveling away from his core and into his chest and hips. He stumbled a few steps and began to moan, a strange euphoria overwhelming him. The sound of cracking bones met the jiggling, muted echoes of fat building in his hips—his stance shot wide. Terry’s hips exploded outwards in size, becoming colossal, shapely hills. His thinner legs were given back some of their former bulk, but now in the form of tight muscle mixed with firmly fitted thigh fat, balancing out beautifully with his burgeoning pelvis. The other fat sucked out from his midsection traveled up into his chest, quickly collecting in the shape of two orbs. The two, fleshy growths hopped about as they enlarged, undulating fat causing both of them to occasionally smack into each other under his now looser fitting shirt the bigger they got.
“Oh shit, W-What the hell!? Huh, oh!” Terry cried out, his voice crackling and breaking into a loud, feminine moan. His waistline looked like it had been put through a vice, squeezed tight until it was a curvaceous wonder. Flat stomach, steeply curved back snapping into place, toned crevices shading his belly, near inhumanly thin below the chest. It was a shape unlike any Terry had seen before, and it was now… his.
“No! I have to stop this! I won’t let this-ahn!” Terry steadfastly screamed, before giving way to another beat down of rushing strength and feminine modification. Despite his shapely transformation, he felt a resurgence in strength, though this was a far different strength from before, one more suited to the new body he was being bestowed. His thin legs where gaining a curvy bulk, his calves widening and lifting more and his thighs tensing up with hardened, hidden muscle that served to make his thighs even thicker. It was a perfect mixture of beauty and strength that he couldn’t help but admire somewhat, his plumping lips quivering at the embarrassing thought.
Terry felt numb to the more extreme changes at this point, his facial bones shifting and reforming with little notice by him. He was far more focused on the rush of power he was feeling. He had always felt a twinge of pleasure after a good workout, more out of admiration for the strength he was building up. But it was truly something else feeling the results of what would usually be years of dedicated work sculpting a strong, flexible body like the one he had now emerge all at once. All that buildup of hardened meat and firm fat rippled intensely across his body into powerful form.
H-Holy shit! This feels… guh, ahh!” Terry moaned, flustered and ashamed that he was succumbing to such sensations. He felt defeated, his pride as a man and fighter stripped of him and mutated into something foreign. And yet, he knew he wasn’t fully done yet, he knew what was coming next.
Terry felt every muscle in his body tense up, making his feminizing face gasp in shock. His blue eyes looked bigger and doey-eyed now, lashes longer and brows thinner. His hair changed as well, growing out long to about butt length, luscious and full in volume.
“Guh oohh!! It’s… happening!” He shrieked, eyes starting to roll back.
Against his will, his body brimmed with excitement over his evolving female form. He felt his new tits clench and release, extra fat accumulating out of nowhere upon them, creating even fuller breasts that kept a round shape even as they sagged. His forearms gained a little more definition as they flexed, as did his upper back and waist near his hips.
Terry wasn’t sure whether to feel fear or excitement, this confliction coming through in his voice. His dick though, was nothing but excited.
The excited dick unloaded shot after shot of thick, white, burning male passion. Every ounce of what made Terry a man left his body in chaotic fashion, staining his jeans. The more he came, the more his symbol of manhood faded. He hunched over and placed both hands on his thighs and shivered in delight. The moment his dick became a mere nub between his legs, he felt his balls suck inside him and viciously reshape into a set of ovaries. This caused his hips to widen even more and his butt, which had remained for the most part untouched, to play catch up and expanding quickly into a thunderous, bloated booty.
With all the right junk now in the trunk, Terry’s dick felt satisfied to make its leave, welcoming a wet slit into existence below it. It opened as an entrance to a fleshy, pink cavern and what was once his dick cozied itself within its new home, becoming the new woman’s throbbing clitoris. The pleasure was so intense that Terry fell backwards onto her butt, rattled from her first female orgasm.
A little while later Terry came back to her senses. She stood up and was shaken by embarrassment over her new body, examining every inch of her shameful new form. There was no way she could accept this, even if she strangely did consider herself a woman now. It was like some mental suggestion had been planted inside her. She was obviously upset and scared over what had just happened and for her loss, yet she felt oddly comfortable in her new skin.
With no way to make heads or tails of what just transpired, Terry could only muster a, “What, the hell!?”
***
A year had passed since Terry’s transformation and she was now comfortable, confident, and accustomed to her new body. She embraced it openly and felt happier than she’d ever been before with how it affected her fighting style. With her new body, she hadn’t even lost all that much strength in the long run! She just had different ways of applying it, ways that she deemed even more effective in combat than her more hulking, sluggish form from before had allowed. She was far more flexible now and light on her feet. She was taking on all comers, just like before, and loving every minute of it. She grew to enjoy a lot of the extra attention her body gave as well.
All the ogling and admiration for her was sort of addicting. She had received similar admiration as a man, though typically from the fairer sex, but she never really took advantage of it. She owned it as a woman though, and it provided her with a whole new kind of rush outside of combat. Terry’s new wardrobe spoke volumes about her new, unbridled confidence and satisfaction with her body. Her red vest was much smaller now, riding high on her midriff, and her white shirt was merely a taut, white rag of a shirt fondling her large breasts within the vest. She wore fingerless gloves with a gold bracelet dancing around each wrist. She wore extremely short shorts that were so tight she had to leave the zipper open, revealing some sporty, green undies—her thighs having thickened from her workouts faster than she could buy new pairs of shorts to the point she stopped caring much. Her legs were completely bare aside from her red sneakers which had changed from before. And of course, there was the red trucker hat resting on top of her head of blond hair fashioned into a ponytail.
Terry had kept Alice’s edits made to the hat. Fatal Cutie, it was certainly what Terry had become. She and Alice could never figure out how it had all happened, but Alice pondered that maybe the fact she used a brand of marker called “Magic Ink” on the hat might be the culprit. Despite sounding utterly stupid, Terry was willing to believe anything considering what had happened. Either way, both stopped caring after a while. Alice was in fact overjoyed that she could study Terry’s fighting now with a woman’s body as reference material. Terry was pleased that it seemed to make things more natural for her.
Terry, as Alice put it, was a bombshell, kickass, fatal cutie. A mouthful, but Terry wouldn’t disagree nowadays. She wanted to show off as much as she could, wanted her body to be the star of every hit and kick she landed, her opponents drawn to her swift, bodily movements. She not only wanted to be the perfect fighter, but look it too—showing off what perfection looked like. Despite her new high opinion of herself, she never did lose sight of her friendly, caring core. She continued to make new friends and rivals and inspire others to reach her level.
She had a newfound respect for fighting, especially the builds of a fighter’s body. It became what one could say an erotic hobby of sorts. Terry loved getting up-close-and-personal to anybody well sculpted by the art of fighting. She loved to feel a body, hardened by years of training and harsh combat caressing her own shapely, fighter form. Even better was to feel the strength of that body get inside her and enforce its will upon her, and for her to try and fight back. It was one of her favorite forms of… combat.
In fact, Terry was currently clashing with a seasoned fighter in the bedroom. She often considered her lower body her most prized work, having spent many hours in the gym building it up so it’d be able to take a pounding like she was receiving now. The male fighter’s cock had her wanting slit spread wide, the man enticed beyond words by how strongly it clamped down on his steeled shaft. Terry let nobody get off easy; she could never be broken in her mind. The fighters always felt they were in control at first. That was until they might the vice like grip of her holes, her powerful ass and sturdy thighs having the power to always force things back in her favor. Sex for her was a battle of body and wills, just like fighting. Except here the game was pleasure, and Terry always came out the victor.
“Come on! Come on! Finish me if you c-can! Get serious!” Terry ordered in the building throes of an orgasm. She had her opponent working at her pace, bending to her movements and strength. He could only submit, the pleasure making him cave first. The male fighter hunched over and hugged Terry tightly, leaning both of them forward onto the bed. The man’s muscles rubbed against her own with each thrust, two fighters in an intense moment of intimacy. Terry knew she had won, so let herself go, allowing both fighters to cum like a fountain, Terry’s pussy being filled with hot spunk and her opponent’s cock being doused in the slick juices of her cunt.
A euphoric Terry proclaimed, “Heh, I’ve won again without even trying.”
Terry was in many ways just as she’d always been. All she knew was combat. She lived and breathed it, in and out of the bedroom. She may have become a fatal cutie, but she still packed a whole lot of fury.
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