Chapter 4: Shopping for Survival
They leave Vance's apartment, only to realize about half way to Molly's,that Molly locked her keys to her apartment inside her apartment, so they were screwed on that idea. They were near a 24hour Walmart though. And could do some clothing shopping. Especially if their just going to turn back into these forms every full moon.
The harsh, flickering fluorescence of the Walmart sign bled across the asphalt, painting the puddles in oily rainbows. It felt like stepping onto an alien planet after the candlelit horror of Vance’s apartment. Molly hunched her broad shoulders, the stiff knight’s tabard doing little to hide the obscene bulge straining against Vance’s borrowed boxers beneath her band tee. Every step sent a jarring reminder of the unfamiliar weight swinging between her thick thighs. Beside her, Vance clutched the torn blue skirt fabric draped over his shorts, the dragon-print shirt billowing around his new curves. The fabric brushed constantly against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and the heavy swell of his breasts, sending confusing jolts through him. The relentless itch beneath his skin, a leftover curse signature, felt like insects burrowing.
"God, it's bright," Vance muttered, his voice high and tight. He squinted against the glare. "Feels like an interrogation."
"Focus," Molly growled, her deeper voice roughened by strain. She scanned the mostly empty parking lot, her new, sharper jawline clenched. A group of rowdy teens in half-discarded costumes stumbled past, laughing loudly. One glanced at them, eyes lingering on Vance’s long hair and exposed legs beneath the makeshift skirt, then Molly’s hulking frame and the awkward tabard. Molly shot him a glare that made him quickly look away. "Keep moving. Just… act normal."
"Normal?" Vance hissed, adjusting the skirt knot at his hip. The elastic of the black panties dug deeper with every movement. "What part of this is remotely normal, Molls? My underwear is trying to bisect me!" He took another step, his new hips swaying involuntarily, making him stumble slightly. He grabbed Molly’s thick forearm for balance, the unfamiliar hardness of her muscle startling him all over again. A strange warmth bloomed where his hand touched her skin.
Molly flinched, not pulling away. "Don't… don't grab," she mumbled, her voice strained. She could feel the heat radiating from Vance’s smaller hand, the softness of his fingers against her now-hairy forearm. It sent an unwelcome, electric tingle down her spine. She cleared her throat, the sound like rocks grinding. "Clothes. We need clothes. Functional ones. Now." She strode towards the automatic doors, her heavy steps echoing on the pavement.
Inside, the assault was immediate. The sterile, overlit vastness of the store buzzed with late-night shoppers and the relentless drone of pop music. The air smelled of cheap plastic, cleaning chemicals, and fried food from the distant deli. Vance shrank back, overwhelmed. The lights seemed to magnify every awkward contour of their bodies, every flaw in their makeshift coverings. He felt exposed, monstrous. He kept his gaze glued to the scuffed linoleum floor.
Molly forged ahead, heading for the women’s section like a tank navigating a minefield. Racks of brightly colored fabrics stretched endlessly. She stopped abruptly in front of a display of basic tees and sweatpants. "Okay. You need…" She gestured vaguely at Vance’s draped skirt and billowing shirt. "Something that actually fits. And isn't trying to amputate you." She picked up a simple black t-shirt, size large. "Try this. Soft cotton." Her large hand brushed against the fabric, then lingered a fraction too long. The texture felt… distracting. She shoved it at Vance.
Vance took it, his smaller fingers brushing Molly’s. Another jolt. He quickly grabbed a pair of plain black leggings and a soft, oversized hoodie. "And you?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the store's din. He pointedly avoided looking at the straining front of Molly’s boxers beneath the tabard. "You need… uh… support."
Molly’s face flushed beneath her new, heavier features. She turned stiffly towards the men’s section nearby, scanning the racks with fierce concentration. Jeans? Too constricting. Sweatpants? Too revealing. She grabbed a pair of dark, loose-fitting cargo pants – size 38 waist, hoping for baggy – and a plain grey sweatshirt, extra-large. "This'll do." Her voice was gruff. She couldn't bring herself to look at the underwear section. The thought of needing boxers or briefs for this… it was too much. The borrowed pair was torture enough.
They shuffled towards the changing rooms, a row of flimsy cubicles at the back. Vance ducked into one, pulling the curtain shut with trembling hands. The small space smelled faintly of dust and desperation. He peeled off the dragon shirt, wincing as the fabric dragged over his sensitive nipples. He fumbled with the knot on the torn skirt, letting it fall. Then came the moment he’d been dreading: peeling off the black panties. The elastic released its cruel grip, leaving angry red marks on his dramatically curved hips. He stared at his reflection in the tiny mirror. The soft, feminine belly, the swell of his hips, the heavy breasts. The long brown hair with its defiant green streak framing a face he didn't know. The crawling itch intensified, centered low in his belly, where that terrifying cold ache pulsed. A confusing heat warred with the dread. He quickly pulled on the leggings – the waistband mercifully forgiving – and the soft black tee. It hugged his new curves, revealing the shape of his breasts clearly. He threw the hoodie over it, swallowing him in fabric, a temporary shield. Better. Physically. Emotionally? He felt raw.
He stepped out, avoiding the mirror. Molly was pacing outside the neighboring cubicle, still clad in the tabard over her tee and boxers. She looked up. Her green eyes widened slightly, taking in Vance’s covered form. The hoodie hid the worst, but the leggings showed the undeniable feminine curve of his hips and thighs. Her gaze lingered a heartbeat too long before snapping away. Vance felt that confusing heat flare again. Stop it, he screamed internally.
"Your turn," Vance mumbled, gesturing to her cubicle.
Molly grunted and vanished behind the curtain. Vance heard the rustling, the faint curse as she wrestled with the tabard and the band tee. Then a louder thump, like something heavy hitting the wall. "Damn it!" Molly’s voice, thick with frustration. More rustling. Vance leaned against the wall outside, the cold cinder block rough against the hoodie fabric. He could hear her breathing hard. The image of her powerful new frame, the thick forearms, the heavy jawline… it flickered in his mind, accompanied by a surge of that unwelcome warmth. He squeezed his eyes shut. This is the curse. It has to be. Messing with our heads. Making us feel… things.
The curtain ripped open. Molly stood there, transformed. The loose cargo pants were a vast improvement, hanging low on her thick hips, mercifully obscuring the bulge. The baggy grey sweatshirt swallowed her upper body, hiding her new musculature. But her face was flushed, her buzz-cut hair slightly mussed. She looked… solid. Powerful. Uncomfortably attractive in a way Vance had never associated with Molly before. He swallowed hard.
"Better," Molly said, her voice clipped. She held up the discarded tabard and band tee like contaminated evidence. "Uh. Vance, I think you need to get a bra too. Unfortunately. Hmm. What size were those breast forms again?" She asked hiding her growing erection.
The thick ridge straining against Molly's new cargo pants was impossible to hide completely, tenting the fabric obscenely as she shifted her weight. Vance's gaze locked onto it, a confusing jolt of heat flooding his own altered body, making his nipples tighten painfully beneath the soft hoodie and a strange wetness bloom between his thighs.
Vance flushed crimson, tearing his gaze away only to stare fixedly at the fluorescent lights overhead. "Umm, they.. they were G-cups," he stammered, his voice thin and breathy, his eyes flickering helplessly back down towards the undeniable ridge tenting Molly’s cargo pants. "Fuck," Molly hissed, her own face burning beneath the heavier bone structure, the curse’s thrumming ache in her cock making rational thought impossible as she grabbed Vance’s wrist. Her large hands moved with rough urgency, pulling him back into the cramped changing booth, the curtain snapping shut behind them as she reached under his hoodie, her calloused thumb accidentally grazing his taut nipple as she fumbled for the bra clasp. "Wait here. Ill find something for you."
She returned moments later with a bra. "Here. Try this one on. Ill be back in a bit. I've.... got to go find something" Molly said flustered.
The flimsy curtain snapped shut behind Molly, leaving Vance alone in the cramped, overlit cubicle that reeked of sweat and synthetic fabric. He stared at the white lace bra she'd thrust into his hands, its padded cups absurdly large. G-cup. Christ. The sheer impracticality of it, the sheer reality of needing it, sent a fresh wave of disorientation crashing over him. He dropped the bra on the plastic bench, his fingers trembling as he ran them over the soft cotton of the new hoodie covering his unfamiliar chest. Beneath the fabric, his nipples felt hypersensitive, tight buds that sent jolts of something unsettlingly pleasant whenever the material shifted. He pressed his thighs together, trying to ignore the persistent, warm throb low in his belly, a counterpoint to the deep, cold ache that seemed to pulse from his very bones – Bellweather’s parting gift. The itch under his skin intensified, crawling like ants. He needed to get dressed. Get out.
He pulled the hoodie off over his head, wincing as it tugged his hair, the green streak falling into his eyes. The black tee clung, outlining the heavy swell of his breasts against the thin cotton. Don’t look. He picked up the bra. How the hell did these clasps work? He twisted it, trying to see the back, fingers fumbling with the unfamiliar hooks and eyes. He got one hook caught, swore softly, the sound high and unfamiliar in his ears. Damn it, Molly. He managed to clip one side awkwardly across his ribs, the band too loose. He shifted, trying to position the cup over his left breast, the lace scratchy against the tender skin. His nipple hardened instantly, a sharp, almost painful point of sensation. "Fucking hell," he breathed, frustration warring with the confusing heat pooling between his legs. He finally got the second clip fastened, but the straps dug into his shoulders, and the underwire pinched his ribcage. It was a mess. He was bent over, trying to adjust the strap over his shoulder without fully seeing it, when the curtain ripped open violently.
Molly stood there, breathing hard. Her face was flushed a deep red beneath the heavier jawline, sweat beading on her upper lip. Her broad shoulders filled the doorway. In one large hand, she clutched a bright blue box of condoms, the plastic crinkling loudly in the sudden silence. Her other hand was shoved deep into the pocket of the baggy cargo pants, knuckles white with tension. Her eyes raked over Vance – the awkwardly fastened bra barely containing his breasts, the smooth curve of his back as he bent over, the black leggings hugging the new, undeniable swell of his hips and ass. A low groan escaped her, guttural and raw. "Holy shit, Vance," she rasped, her voice thick, deeper than he’d ever heard it. "You look… fucking amazing."
Vance froze, half-twisted towards her, caught in the harsh fluorescent glare. Embarrassment flared hot across his skin, warring with that insistent internal thrum. "Molls, what—"
"Now turn around," she commanded, stepping fully into the booth, the curtain falling closed behind her with a rattle. The confined space shrank instantly, filled with her new, larger presence, the scent of cheap soap, exertion, and something primal. "And bend over. Now." Her eyes were wide, wild, fixed not on his face but lower, on his ass. "I have to. It hurts too fucking much." Her hand jerked out of her pocket, brushing against the prominent, straining bulge tenting the front of her cargo pants. She hissed through clenched teeth. "Can’t… fucking… think."
The raw need in her voice, the sheer physical agony etched on her transformed face, cut through Vance’s shock. He saw the desperation, the same cursed fire that had been building inside him too, only hers was an unbearable pressure demanding release. The logical part of his brain screamed protest – a Walmart changing room, the fluorescent lights, the sounds of other shoppers just feet away – but it was drowned out by the visceral reaction of his altered body. That deep ache pulsed, synchronizing with the painful throb Molly was radiating. His own damp heat intensified, a traitorous response. Without conscious thought, driven by the curse and a sudden, terrifying hunger, he turned. He bent forward, bracing his hands on the cold metal hook on the cubicle wall, presenting himself. The leggings stretched taut over his ass.
A tearing sound. Molly was ripping open the condom box, her movements frantic, rough. He heard the foil packet rip, then the slick, wet sound of her spitting, followed by the sharp, rhythmic slicking of latex being rolled down her cock. Vance closed his eyes, his breath catching. The air felt thick, charged. He heard the rustle of fabric, the rasp of a zipper, then the clink of the cargo pants' button hitting the floor. Cool air hit the backs of his thighs as Molly roughly shoved the waistband of his leggings and the borrowed black panties down just below the curve of his ass. Her large, calloused hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise, yanking him backwards. The head of her cock, huge and slicked with lube and spit, pressed insistently against his entrance. He wasn't ready. He wasn't prepped. It didn't matter.
"Fuck," Molly snarled, the word a guttural promise. And then she shoved forward. Hard.
White-hot pain tore through Vance as her thick cockhead forced its way past the tight ring of muscle. He gasped, a choked, high-pitched sound, his fingers scrabbling against the metal hook. It burned, a brutal invasion. "Molly... fuck! Stop! It hurts!" he whimpered, tears springing to his eyes.
She didn't stop. She couldn't. The curse, the agonizing pressure, the overwhelming scent and sight of him bent over, drove her. She leaned her heavy body over his back, pinning him. "Shut up. Take it," she growled into his ear, her breath hot and ragged. "Gotta... fucking... move." She pulled back slightly, the drag of the thick shaft against his torn flesh making him cry out, then slammed forward again, deeper this time, burying another brutal inch inside him. The condom felt like sandpaper.
He felt split open. The initial searing pain was eclipsed by a terrifying, overwhelming sense of being filled, stretched impossibly wide. Molly’s cock felt massive inside him, a hard, unyielding presence grinding against raw nerves. She started fucking him in earnest, rough, short, desperate thrusts, driven by pure, agonizing need. Her hips pistoned against his ass with bruising force. Each inward drive forced a sharp gasp or sob from Vance. Her grip on his hips was iron, her body a heavy, sweating weight pressing him down. The metal hook dug into his palms. The flimsy walls of the changing booth rattled with the force of their movement. Vance could hear the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh, the choked sounds he was making, Molly’s harsh, animalistic grunts right by his ear. "Yeah... fuck... tight... so fucking tight..." she groaned, her thrusts becoming harder, deeper, seeking her own brutal relief. The pain in Vance began to mutate. The brutal friction ignited something else deep within the curse-altered pathways of his body. A strange, terrifying pleasure began to coil beneath the hurt, a searing heat blooming from the core of his violation, spreading through his belly, making his own neglected cock throb painfully within the confines of his leggings. He bit his lip, tasting blood, a moan escaping despite himself.
Molly’s rhythm stuttered, grew frantic, her thrusts losing coordination. "Fuck! Vance! Oh god... fuck!" Her voice cracked, ragged and high with impending release. Her body locked over his, hips jerking erratically. He felt her cock swell impossibly thicker inside him, pulsing violently against his raw walls. She let out a guttural roar, muffled against his shoulder, as she came, her release hammering against the condom tip deep within him in thick, convulsive spurts. Her entire weight slumped onto him, trembling, her breath sawing in his ear.
The sudden stillness was shocking. Vance felt every minute tremor running through Molly's massive frame plastered against his back. The thick length of her cock, still buried deep inside him, pulsed weakly with the aftershocks of her orgasm. The brutal ache in his own groin screamed for attention, untouched, while the place she had invaded throbbed with a confusing mix of searing pain and lingering, unwanted echoes of that terrifying heat. Outside the flimsy curtain, the cheerful, tinny sound of the store’s muzak drifted in, absurdly loud. Footsteps approached on the linoleum. Someone cleared their throat nearby. Vance froze, his blood turning to ice. Molly went rigid against him, covering his mouth as ro not let the moans out.
She then continued to slowly thrust inside Vance. While that person was still walking by the changing rooms. "You got to keep quiet."
"I... I... ca.. can't.... it... feels too... ehhhh it feels too..... hmm ehhh. Good." Vance quietly moaned into her hand.
The footsteps walked away and the two continued to fuck. But were unable to cum.
The footsteps faded, swallowed by the canned pop music drifting from distant speakers. Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating, broken only by their ragged breathing and the frantic hammering of Vance’s heart against his ribs. Molly remained buried deep inside him, her softening cock a heavy, unwelcome intrusion within his raw, throbbing passage. The condom felt alien, slick and constricting, trapping the heat where their bodies joined. The cursed ache, that deep, insistent thrumming low in Vance’s belly and radiating from Molly’s cock, hadn’t abated. It pulsed stronger now, a frustrated, furious energy denied release. The brutal friction had ignited a wildfire inside Vance, a terrifying blend of pain and burgeoning, unwanted pleasure that coiled tighter with every passing second, demanding satisfaction Molly’s climax hadn’t delivered.
Molly shifted her weight slightly, her large hand still clamped over Vance’s mouth. Her breath, hot and ragged, gusted against his ear. "Fuck," she rasped, her voice thick with a mixture of shame and undiminished, agonizing need. She pulled back slowly, the latex dragging excruciatingly against Vance’s sensitized inner walls, making him whimper against her palm. "Didn’t… didn’t finish," she admitted, the words choked. "Not really. Feels like… like it’s stuck." Her hips jerked involuntarily, grinding the base of her cock against him, seeking friction that the condom dulled. A fresh wave of that maddening, pent-up pressure surged through Vance, making his knees buckle. He sagged against the cold metal hook, leaking ache inside his nre vagina trapped within his leggings. The cursed itch beneath his skin flared, centering on his groin, screaming for completion.
"It’s the fucking rubber," Molly hissed, her desperation sharpening. She withdrew completely this time, the sudden emptiness inside Vance a shocking void followed instantly by a fresh pang of that cursed, gnawing hunger. She spun him roughly around to face her. Her eyes, wide and wild beneath the harsh fluorescents, burned with a frantic intensity. Sweat plastered strands of her short hair to her temples. Her gaze dropped to his face, flushed and tear-streaked, then lower, to the damp patch darkening the front of his leggings where his own arousal strained. "Look at you," she breathed, her voice rough. "Look at me." She gestured down at her cock, still semi-hard, glistening with lube and spit beneath the stretched latex sheath, twitching with unsatisfied urgency. "This thing… it’s choking it. Keeping us… stuck." Her fingers fumbled at the base of the condom, pinching the rolled latex. "Gotta get it off. Now. Before I fucking explode." Her knuckles were white with tension.
Vance stared, mesmerized and horrified. The rational part of his mind screamed warnings – disease, consequences, the sheer insanity of this in a Walmart changing room. But the curse’s firestorm within him drowned it out. The deep ache pulsed, synchronizing perfectly with the desperate throb radiating from Molly’s cock. He felt wet, open, impossibly empty despite the lingering pain. The need to be filled again, properly, without that hateful barrier, surged through him with terrifying force. He saw the same raw, unthinking hunger reflected in Molly’s dilated pupils. Logic evaporated. "Yes," Vance gasped, the word escaping in a high, broken whisper. "Get it off. Please, Molls… just fuck me. Fuck me." His hand reached out, trembling, not pushing her away but hovering near her wrist, urging her on. The permission, the plea, shattered Molly’s last shred of restraint.
She snarled, a sound more animal than human. Her fingers tore at the condom rim, ripping the latex near the base in her haste. She peeled it down her shaft with a rough, jerking motion, the wet sound obscenely loud in the tiny space. The used condom, slick and glistening, dropped forgotten onto the scuffed linoleum floor. Her bare cock sprang free, flushed dark red, thick veins standing out, the head slick and glistening with pre-come and the remnants of lube. The difference was immediate, electric. The raw heat of her skin, the primal musk, hit Vance like a physical blow. Molly didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Vance’s hips again, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh above his leggings, and spun him back around, shoving him hard against the cold metal hook. "Bend!" she commanded, her voice guttural. "Now!"
Vance obeyed instantly, bracing himself, presenting himself. The cool air hit his exposed ass cheeks where his leggings and panties were still bunched low. He heard Molly spit copiously into her palm, the wet slap as she slicked her bare cock. Then the broad, burning head pressed against his loosened, aching entrance. No preamble. No gentleness. She slammed home in one brutal, deep thrust.
Vance cried out, a sharp, ragged sound that echoed off the flimsy walls. The stretch was immense, raw, but the absence of latex changed everything. It was searing heat, intimate pressure, skin on hypersensitive skin. Molly groaned, a deep, shuddering sound of pure, agonized relief. "Fuck… yes…" she gasped, burying herself to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming for Vance – the intense fullness, the shocking intimacy of bare flesh inside him, the cursed energy crackling between them, amplified tenfold. The pain was still there, a sharp counterpoint, but it was instantly subsumed by a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that ripped through his nervous system. He felt connected, fused, the cursed ache transforming into a blinding, white-hot need for friction, for completion.
Molly pulled back almost immediately, the drag of her bare cock against his inner walls sending sparks up Vance’s spine. Then she drove forward again, hard and deep. And again. Her rhythm wasn't frantic desperation anymore; it was powerful, purposeful, driven by the unleashed, primal connection. Each thrust was a deep, grinding piston stroke, filling Vance completely, the thick shaft rubbing directly against spots that ignited fireworks behind his eyelids. The wet slap of their joining flesh echoed louder now, mingling with Vance’s escalating moans and Molly’s guttural grunts. "So fucking hot inside," Molly growled, leaning her weight onto him, her sweat-slicked chest pressing against his back. "So tight… taking my cock… fucking perfect…" Her large hand slid around his breast. The dual assault was too much. Vance felt the coil in his belly tighten impossibly, the cursed energy and raw pleasure converging into a single, unstoppable point. "Molly!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "I'm… I'm gonna—" The world dissolved into blinding sensation. His body locked, back arching violently against her, as his orgasm ripped through him. Thick pulses surged in his new vagina and clenched around Molly’s hard cock.
The fierce contractions triggered Molly’s own release instantly. She roared, a raw, animal sound muffled against Vance’s shoulder blade. Her hips slammed forward one final time, grinding deep as her cock pulsed violently inside him. Vance felt the hot flood of her come jetting deep into his core, wave after thick wave, filling him with a primal warmth that seemed to momentarily soothe the cursed ache. Her entire body shuddered violently against his, her grip on his hip bruising, her breath coming in ragged, explosive gasps. They stayed fused like that, trembling, slick with sweat, Molly’s softening cock still nestled deep within him, her come leaking out around the base, dripping onto the bunched fabric at his thighs. The fluorescent light glared down, illuminating the discarded condom on the floor, the torn bra packaging, their discarded costumes in a heap. The distant music played on, jarringly cheerful. Vance’s legs gave out. Molly caught him, sinking with him to the cold linoleum, their harsh breathing the only sound in the sudden, exhausted stillness. The cursed itch was gone, replaced by a deep, trembling fatigue and the sticky, shocking reality of what they’d just done.
"Vance... thank you. And im so so sorry. But I couldn't help it. Its like something took over and it had no control." Molly said sitting beside Vance.
Vance leaning into Molly's chest. "Its okay. Molls. im gonna be honest, the second we arrived I've gotten that feeling of doing it too. Fortunately for us though. I dont feel like im gonna get pregnant. Maybe that part of the curse only happens on full moons. If so we'll have to be very careful. Because we might not have control of ourselves on those nights." Vance ran a hand over Molly's chest.
"Its still Friday night. Which means we have two more nights of being like this. You dont have your key to your apartment. So. Would you like to stay at my place. Until we change back?" Vance said to her.