Every Inch A Bitch

Hello everyone! So sorry for not posting sooner, lots of things in real life have been taking up my time these past few months. Besides several family tragedies last month, I'm also still sick with kidney trouble, but it seems to be something I can mitigate. I've had to totally give up caffeine and carbonated drinks, which has made my issues more tolerable, if still very distracting.

On the plus side, I've finally finished moving into my house, and I now have a real office where I can work in peace. So I should be able to get more writing done now without being constantly interrupted.

Today's short-story/caption is something I meant to write ages ago. KS_1960 made a fun morphed image for me several years ago, specifically for this story idea, and I've only just now finally used it.

I originally planned this as a series of captions, but it ended up a bit shorter than I expected. I hope you all enjoy this little transformation, and I promise that I will get back to doing regular posts from now on, as well as updating my Patreon again at long last.

Also, a huge thank you to those of you who have written to me these past several months, and to all of you for being patient with my lack of posts.

- B-Rex

Maxine was admiring one of her old photoshoots while finishing making up the employee schedule, when the girl burst into her office, glowering in rage.

“I AM NOT DOING THIS!!!” Holly Manning screamed, throwing down what appeared to be her contract.

“Of course you will, Holly,” Maxine said coolly, not quite managing to hide her smirk. Of all the duties that came with owning and managing the most popular club in the city, this was her favorite.

Famous for her large, surgically-enhanced assets, Maxine Gunnz had gone from stripper to headliner to reality TV starlet before she was thirty, and had used her fame and success to start her own club, BigGunnz, the premier nightclub and strip joint in the city. It had already turned her into a multimillionaire several times over, and allowed her to officially retire from stripping herself five years earlier.

Her club's popularity, the massive tips, and the fact that it had single-handedly launched several girls' careers into porn superstardom had given her considerable leeway to add whatever she wanted to their contracts. She adored really pushing the girls' limits, to see just how far they'd go before refusing. Some balked at the mandatory 'BigGunnz' trampstamp tattoo, some at the required permanent makeup and lip injections every six months. But most didn't object, too attracted to the money to turn down the job, no matter the humiliating requirements.

She liked to wait for the last moment to inform the girls of the mandatory breast implant surgery clause, explaining it as they were on the verge of signing the contract. Some girls were happy enough at the offer of a free boobjob, but Maxine lived for the ones who clearly hated the idea. Holly had been one of those, a pretty medical student buried under student loan debt who was too desperate to refuse to sign.

Maxine smirked at the now very buxom blond stripper. Holly had just returned from her first surgery, lips filled, makeup freshly tattooed, and with her new DDD-cups overflowing her new bra.

“I see the clinic has done their usual good job,” Maxine said dismissively, pretending to go back to her paperwork. “They'll be able to go much larger next time, once your skin has recovered.”

Holly gritted her teeth, clearly unaware of how foolish her inflated lips made the angry expression appear, and sputtered, “I am not changing my name to HOLLY HOWITZERS!!!!”

There it was. Maxine Gunnz didn't bother hiding her gleeful grin. Everyone knew the girls at her club all had gun-related names, that was part of the club's draw after all. But no one knew that their names were actually legally changed, by contractual obligation.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that particular clause, Miss Howitzers?” Maxine asked, still grinning.

“Dammit! I'm going to be a microbiologist when I graduate; I can't be called Dr. Howitzers!! Certainly not with these... things on my chest!!!”

Maxine pushed a lock her own long blond hair over an ear, and stood up, towering over the newly-enhanced medical student. “Oh, yes you will. You will legally change your name to match your stagename... And you will keep your name for a decade after you retire from my employment. By the time you're ready to quit, I'll have too much invested in Holly Howitzer merchandise to have you just change your name back before I've off-loaded all of it. Besides, the contract you signed was very clear on this.”

She smirked as the girl cowered back from her employer's statuesque presence. Maxine liked to claim that she could've been a supermodel if not for her love of her breast implants, though really she'd become a stripper (and gotten said implants) because no modeling agency had wanted her.

“But--” Holly began, her earlier bluster gone.

“You will follow the contract to the letter, Miss Howitzers. Or you will be having a long, embarrassingly public fight with my lawyers, which will cost far more than your student loans. Now, get out of my office before I change your name to something far more amusing.” Maxine waited a beat, then held up the schedule she'd been filling out, and added, “Your first set is coming up in ten minutes and you aren't in costume yet. You'll be doing three shows tonight, after Barbie Bazookas, and just for this little outburst, you'll be doing free VIP lapdances for the rest of the week.”

The girl looked like she was trying to work up the nerve to shout at her again, but failed. “You'll pay for this,” she mumbled angrily, as she slinked off to show her new tits to the crowd.

Maxine watched the new girl leave, still smirking. She hoped the little bimbo did decide to violate the contract when she retired from stripping in a year or two. The last girl who had tried to change her name back, Ruby Rockets, had been left penniless by the following lawsuit and had been forced to become a camgirl just to keep from becoming homeless.

“Miss, no, Doctor Howitzers would look great shoving objects up her ass for her $5 LonelyFans,” Miss Gunnz laughed to herself.

***

“What the hell is going on with me?” Maxine Gunnz narrowed her eyes at her reflection. For the last week she'd been stuck in bed with the flu, and now none of her clothes fit. Her favorite pants, a pair of super-tight faded denim jeans that made her ass look amazing, now slid off her hips without a belt to hold them up. Even her panties were loose on her.

If not for the fact that her breasts were actually looking swollen, probably a full cupsize larger than normal, she'd have just chalked it up to losing weight during her sudden illness.

“What the hell make you lose weight but grows your tits?!” she asked her reflection, peeved at the apparent loss of her wardrobe. Even her blouses were suddenly hanging off of her, at least below the bustline.

Sighing, she struggled to find something that would halfway fit. She was already late to the shoot as it was.

Half-an-hour later, she finally showed up to the club. She'd nearly had a wreck; somehow her car seat had slid back and her mirrors were all at the wrong angle.

Thankfully the other main strippers were already there, several having already had their photos taken for the club's annual calendar. Feeling in a lousy mood, and annoyed that she'd missed the first few pages of the calendar shoot, she butted through the crowd of gawking early-morning customers and demanded to see the first set of shots.

As she stood around the backstage, perusing the glossy photos of Barbie Bazookas, Tammi Torpedoes, and Pamela Peacemakers posing for their respective monthly covers, she was startled to realize that the women were staring at her. “What is it?!” she snapped.

Wanda Warheads walked up to her, and suddenly Maxine realized that rather than towering over the woman, she was looking her eye-to-eye.

“What's wrong, Miss Gunnz? You look a little piqued,” said Wanda, an English major trying to pay off her tuition.

Holly Howitzers walked up, smirking gleefully, and Maxine was shocked again to find that she was only a few inches taller; just a week before she'd been a full head above the buxom new-hire. “I can't believe it worked!”

“What worked?! What's going on!!?!!” Maxine sputtered, spinning around as Mollie Missiles and Nancy Nukes wandered over to join the gathering of buxom bimbos. She stared in shock, as both women actually towered over her! “How are all you so damned tall?!”

Holly just grinned. “My virus worked, I can't believe it!”

“What virus!!?!!”

“Holly infected you with a virus last week, bitch,” Bambi Bullets said, pushing her own fake breasts hard into Maxine's pair, poking her painfully with her perpetually hardened nipples.

“Well, technically it's a variety of prions, not really a virus,” Holly said, as the other women started crowding their suddenly shorter boss. “I just didn't expect it would actually work. And so fast too! You've already gotten shorter just since you arrived ten minutes ago.”

“What?!! No, I haven't, you've all gotten bigger and--” Maxine began, only for her jeans to suddenly fall to her ankles, the once snug belt no longer tight enough to hug her hips. She looked down in shock, only to realize that her tits had somehow grown another cupsize. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME?!!!!”

“It's a bit complicated to explain, actually,” Holly replied, as her formerly imposing employer struggled to pull her jeans up, only to have her panties fall down her thighs instead. “Essentially your body is attacking your skeletal system, mostly focused on the femur and spine, but several of the other prions attack the muscle and fat cells as well. I'd say you've lost at least twenty pounds since I infect you, and maybe four inches of height. Of course, it doesn't do anything to reduce silicone.”

Maxine was horrified, giving up her fight with her ill-fitting clothes. “That's impossible! You can't shrink someone with a virus!”

“Prions,” Holly corrected, turned away from her employer. “Though I do like that word: shrink. I think that's a very good term for what's happening to you, Miss Gunnz. Far better than 'Prion-induced Degenerative Wasting Condition', as I'm calling it in my thesis.”

Maxine was too confused to argue. She was tired, and angry, and half-naked on stage for the first time in half-a-decade. She looked around, feeling panicked. She needed help, she needed a doctor, something, anything! She grabbed at her pants, pulling out her phone to call an ambulance.

“Don't bother,” Holly said, taking the phone from her. Maxine started to fight back, but let go when she realized she was actually staring up at the woman. “They can't help you.”

She slid her fingers down her cleavage and withdrew a small vial of milky fluid. “This will counteract the prions, and stop your shrinking. It won't reverse it, of course; you're permanently stuck where you are. But it will stop you from getting shorter and shorter.”

Maxine snatched at the vial, but Holly easily held it out of her reach. The sudden motion sent Maxine's now ridiculously over-sized breasts bouncing free of her bra. Her too-loose top did nothing to hold them in place.

“Not so fast, Miss Gunnz,” Wanda said, looking over at Mollie Missiles. The buxom brunette held up several documents. “You need to sign a few things before Holly helps you.”

Mollie, who Maxine now remembered had been a law student before her mandatory boobjob got her kicked from the program, thrust the first set of papers at the shrinking blond. “I typed these up while you were out with the flu. They're perfectly legally binding, I assure you, bitch.”

Maxine scanned the papers quickly, almost certain she could feel herself shrinking by the second. “Wait, this is a contract?! I'm not working for you!!”

“Oh, it gets better,” Mollie said, thrusting the next set of documents at her. “You are going to sell us the club, for a nice lump sump of one dollar, and then you are going back to stripping, you vain cunt.”

The women laughed down at her, as Maxine patently refused. “Never! I'd rather be short and rich, than work for you bitches!”

“Suit yourself,” Holly said, pulling the stopper on the vial and making as if to pour it out.

“WAIT!!!” Maxine screamed. “I'll do it, I'll sign the damned documents! Just stop this!!”

The women laughed at her again, as she hurriedly took a pen from Mollie and signed the papers, unread.

Holly waited until the documents were all signed and then for Maxine to call her lawyers and explain the new club ownership. Once everything was finalized, only then did she at last give Maxine the vial. To Maxine's regret, she had lost even more height, far too much, but at least she wouldn't lose anymore.

Or so she thought, as she gulped down the vial, only for Holly to laugh as she coughed up vile fluid. “Oh, by the way, that was just jizz from a few of your customers. There isn't any cure, bitch. But don't worry, you will stop shrinking eventually, once you hit the right size.”

Maxine looked up at her in horror as she wiped her mouth clean.

“And there was one little clause in that contract you might have missed, Miss Gunnz,” Mollie said, as the women grinned down at their former boss and new employee.

***

“And returning to the stage after a five year hiatus, in her new role as the BigGunnz Club's official mascot... MINNIE GUNNZ!!!”

The announcer's voice echoed around her as Maxine, now Minnie, gulped from her perched just behind the stage curtains. The club was crowded tonight, as her old fans returned to see her new debut and triumphant return to stripping.

“Well, get out there, doll. Your adoring fans are waiting,” Holly said, not-so-gently kicking her former boss in the rump, sending her stumbling through the curtains and on to the stage.

A roar of applause rose and died, then turned to laughter, as all 26 inches of Minnie Gunnz was finally revealed.

Look out at the sea of laughing, jeering faces, Minnie felt a strung urge to run for the doors and flee, but knew from bitter experience that it would be futile:

She was too short to reach the knob.