“What a drag…”
Juri Han, sometimes assassin, sometimes force of chaos, always the baddest bitch in the room, tossed her duffle bags to one side of her Metro City crash out apartment stretched out like a particularly feral cat. Pulling into a handstand that turned into a cartwheel, she flicked the lights off as she spun around and then landed before the couch in the center of the room. Yanking the curtains open to let the unnatural light of the skyline illuminate her room she collapsed onto the comfortable cushions behind her. Deft motions of foot and toes soon had the tv on, clicking from sports to news. The headline of the attempted hijackers, apparently an attempt by yet another of the innumerable gangs of Metro City to make it big was still being talked about.
Of course no mention of her, not that she wanted that. Let those two… Poison Off Colors handle it.
Some part of her should be more alarmed by that she supposed, but then things like that seemed oddly common around Metro City and in between all the other crazy shit she’d seen it hardly seemed worth the effort to question. Maybe they were clones, maybe they’d hopped over from some parallel world or a time paradox.
Hell, maybe that pink haired ruffian had reproduced by osmosis.
“Frankly, who gives a shit.” It had at least been worth a brief bit of fun even if the small number of assholes and confined space had rather limited the fun of a full on beat ‘em up. Curling her toes and doing one more stretch to get the tension out of her neck after that long flight, she thought, “Maybe I should do as they do in Rome and go beat up a bunch of idiots in the street?”
Could be worth a laugh or two.
…
“Nah.”
Not her style, she preferred a good one-on-one or one-on-three where she was the one. Juri Han was more ‘Boss Battle’ material after all and she wasn’t quite bored enough to play that much against type. Let others, more suitable for the street-level battles do that. Like the pair of matching flight (or possible fight) attendants she’d meet. Hell, she’d even let one of them get her number after promising to pay her back for helping out with one of the hijackers.
Maybe she should call in that favor sooner or later… and ask for blood before cash. They had at least some passing skill and a good fight would definitely get her out of her current jet lag funk.
Though for all she knew they were already onto their own next flight or fight as it might be…
***
“Okay lady, so you mind explaining… this,” Scarlett… Scarlett Skies said. Gesturing to the whole of her, the whole of which was not at all like she’d been at the start of the flight. Mind you, she only vaguely remembered who and what she’d been before, but she was damn sure ‘shorter, paler, and not with a big fucking girl-cock!’ were all part of that package. Now she looked… well, she wasn’t sure. She looked like the woman in front of her, but her complexion was darker while her hair was bright and fiery red. Aside from that it was like looking into a mirror, every measurement, height, hips, bust (and probably cock) exactly the same. Even their outfits mirrored now, identical black collars over identical throats that had identical signs of the rampant wave of masculinity that had driven their pussies into penises and seemed to leave them hot, horny, and more than a little willing to kick first and ask questions later.
That didn’t even get into the near striptease drink serving show they’d both done. Scarlett was sure she’d started positively restrained and modest… but by the end she’d been ready to pour the beer over her own topless tits into cups if it got more attention than her competition. And even as some aspect of her recoiled at how unnatural it was to be so boldly sexual… so much more cried out that it was right and natural.
“Hell if I know. Some crazy lady with pink hair challenged me to a fight at the boarding gate and literally beat me into this,” Skies said. Cupping her tits, squeezing their prodigious and preposterously round nature before going lower and lifting her thin microskirt to display her ‘equipped’ status to her mirrored counterpart. “And I do mean ‘beat me’ into it. She fucking kicked the cunt right off of me. Kind of glad I didn’t grow balls until afterwards honestly…”
“How the hell do you grow… never mind,” Scarlett said, shaking her head. It wasn’t like she would have a better answer, and she’d done the same damn thing. Fuck! Her cock was still hard even, the fight and the show only serving to make her hornies by the end of it.
And that hot ass Korean chick that had showed up at the end…
“Goddamn! If she doesn’t have a dick herself I’d pay for the strap so she could take my ass.” She winced at the ache in her panties, strange anal longing in her rear, and the confusion that all of this was new no matter how much it felt otherwise. She’d never even really done anal, and now it not only was the only way she’d be taken dick down there, but she was having trouble not thinking about how much she wanted any chick that seemed like they could beat her ass to fuck her ass afterwards.
Fuck! What was wrong with her.
Them.
“Worst of all, I wasn’t even this ‘before’!”
“What, hot?”
“No, I was-no, I mean I didn’t work for an airline. I was… like, in business or something? Paper pushing and stuff.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It was… but it was me. Not me, but the me that was me and… gah, I can’t even remember it all really, except I didn’t have this, or these… or all of this,” Skies said, going from dick, to tits, to her long mane of dark blue hair. “I look like… some kind of pervy drawing on the side of a plane.”
“You look like a Metro City girl.” Scarlett then added, “We look like Metro City girls.”
“So what, we might find something out if we hang around here?”
“You gotta better plan?”
Skies fumed, lips pressed into a tight frown before she looked into her reflection in the staff restroom’s mirror. “No… no I don’t.”
Scarlett’s stomach grumbled at that, soon mirrored by Skies.
“Screw this, I can’t think on an empty stomach. Let’s get something to eat and come up with a real plan.”
***
“So I want a double diavolo pizza, don’t skimp on the heat like most places.” Juri held the phone to her ear as she clicked through more channels. Boredom had given way to hunger and a need for some late night grub. And while she could pull the bike out and go cruising she felt more like getting some delivery. Adding after a moment, “I’ll know if you do.”
“Of course ma’am. We’ll have it out to you in a jiffy.”
“You better and-”
Her phone beeped at that. Confusion gave way to something else as she saw an odd ad pop up.
200 Duel Dollar Challenge
Free Deliveries!
Defeat or Deliver!
“That couldn’t be real… could it?”
“Hey, can I have the… Defeat or Deliver challenge?” The voice on the other side paused for a long moment, as if in confusion but then confidently, if somewhat mechanically replied.
“Yes, of course. You will lose the specified bet regardless of whether you win.”
“Oh, don’t worry… I always win!”
Getting off of her couch, Juri hopped from foot to foot and then made her way to the door.
Tonight she’d taste Metro City pizza… and victory!
***
“Hey Janet, you got one.”
“Coming up boss,” The leggy and tall blonde said as she ran up to the counter. Picking up the pizza in its sealed insulator package she made her way towards the door.
“Oh, and one more thing before you leave.”
“What is it boss?” Janet Harris asked, clipping her bike helmet on as she prepared to exit from their modest downtown pizzeria.
“This one also ordered a Defeat or Delivery Challenge so make sure you deliver that pizza or else.”
“Huh-”
“Now-”
Go!
Mission Start!
[Janet Harris]
She felt like she was shoved out of the pizza parlor by an invisible force as an electric guitar riff kicked up. Something like Metro City’s finest-
A moment of vertigo passed as she thought the name must be something different, but it couldn’t be. She was even wearing her Metro City U sweatshirt she’d bought from the campus store last Autumn. So clearly she lived in Metro City.
The source of the pounding electric guitar that seemed to urging her on as fast as she could was just part of the unusual ambience of the locale after all. Like gangs of costumed freaks, the odd mutant, and stories of martial arts amphibious living in the sewers. You just had to take the city, wart and all.
None of that explained what the hell a Defeat or DeliveryChallenge meant. Did she have to… fight her way to deliver the pizza or something?
God, she hoped not. She was not cut out for that kind of scene. She was an English major that wrote coffee shop AUs and fanfics about Doctor Who. Which said something about how her prospects for long term employment weren’t much better than her short term ones and that she might be delivering pizzas well after graduation though that was neither here nor there.
Such thoughts drove her on, pedaling faster and faster, working up quite the sweat even in the cold air of the Metro City night. Weaving through the traffic, ignoring the filth and noise of the city as she drew closer and closer to the address she’d been given. No sign of opposition beyond traffic, it hardly seemed like there was any challenge to this mission at all.
“Heh, boss was worried over nothing,” Janet thought, pulling up to the high rise apartment complex. Nice, but located on the edge of one of the many bad parts of town. She’d be worried if she planned to stay a while, but she’d have her delivery dropped off in five minutes and back on the road. All she had to do was buzz herself in and-
Huh, that was odd. No one was answering. Just her luck. She hit the button again and cursed at the schizophrenic nature of security in Metro City. Sometimes you had banks with laser detection grids and mech suited guards… and other times there’d be an armor car getting hit because the guard was literally one guy who spent more time hitting the donuts than the punching bags.
It was frankly kind of embarrassing but what did you expect around here?
Putting those odd thoughts out of mind she moved to open the door and navigate her way up on her own, hoping that the night shift watch would just forget about her not doing it properly. Only for her attempt to get in to be stopped by a… foot?
That and a leg, all attached to a leering woman in a rather outlandish outfit, part straps, part pants, and brash in a very specific way that left little to the imagination while making sure what wasn’t told you that you were in for a bad time if you messed with her.
“Hey there pizza girl… trying to make it inside?”
“Uh… yeah?” Janet said, tugging at the door again, only to find this woman’s strength far too great for her to oppose. She instead tried to move to the other side, only for her to lash her leg out, spinning around and in the same motion sending Janet with her, almost falling and very nearly dropping the pizza as she stumbled back onto the sidewalk.
“Sorry, but I was promised a fight with my order… or else.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry,” the strange woman (who had apparently ordered the pizza too?!) said, “I always give myself the best workout.”
“What?!”
“Really, what the hell does that even-”
Round One!
Metro City Streets (Night)
Juri Versus [Janet]
FIGHT!
Once again Janet heard the voice, loud and booming. But not for long. Instead she felt a series of kicks, devastating, that sent her ears ringing and had her bouncing against the sidewalk as the pizza flew into the air. It landed off to the side, not far from her bike. Thankfully undamaged.
Though why the hell am I worried about that right now?
“The hell,” Janet said, picking herself up, putting a hand to her stinging lips, which were already painting themselves a deep, almost black shade of purple as she came to stand. Body shifting into a poor imitation of the stance of the woman in front of her. Who punished her for her lack of form with a devastating leg throw into a heel crush against her pelvis. Breath forced from her lungs, Janet gasped and coughed, instinct or something else driving her to kick back.
“Ha! Don’t make me laugh!”
Block.
Block.
Block and punish.
Back and onto her rear, Janet gasped in pain, her now thoroughly shifted lips thickened and painted in glossy coat of off black. Blinking she stood up just in time for another heel strike to the face, which left her wincing, wondering how she didn’t have a broken nose… and feeling a tugging oddness as her caucasian features faded away, her light tan turning paler as her blonde hair dyed jet black, streaks of violet painting through it as she was grabbed by her hair… her hair horns…
“Ah you f-”
And then dropped.
Victory!
Juri
Perfect!
“What the fuck is going-”
Round Two!
FIGHT!
She was standing again, driven to stand even as her whole body shook from the exertion. She felt tight and wrong, as if she was going through the motions of a dance she didn’t know but should, everything in slow motion at first but speeding up the more she breathed, the faster her heart beat. She was… losing?
Fuck that!
She couldn’t lose!
“What the hell am I thinking?!” Janet’s thoughts were reasonable, but her actions weren’t. She tugged and pulled at her sweatshirt, too large in some places, too small in others, finally just yanking it up and off and-
A sporty jacket, a belt choker around her neck, her blouse straining against a chest that was definitely bigger than it had been and seemed poised to grow larger still. Her eyes widened, now marred deep not by the black and blue of her repeated kicks but heavy eye shadow. One hair horn was purple-pink, the other had become an azure blue, while her shocked face was a near mirror of the woman before her. Not a trace of blonde American every girl left, she was a punk ass foreign exchange student at best, but one that seemed eager to dress like a slutty school girl stereotype escaped from Naughty Nuns 4.
“Ah~”
And with the chest to prove it. Her blouse pressed out, bosom exceeding her country parts as her body shuddered and with a creak and a crack her height shrank dramatically. Comparing as her breasts surged outward. Almost comically big, bouncy and…
Fucking mods…
“Huh?” The idea hit and passed even as her slutty new tits did anything but fade way. For fucks sake, she had nipple piercings. All of which was easy to see as her shirt couldn’t help but display cleavage as the size grew bigger than the shirt was meant to contain. At least she still had a bra, push up of course, not that her fucking fake looking tits needed it. With the added bonus that it was just as bold, brash, and black and belts as every other damn thing she wore now.
Reaching up to her ears she then noticed that she had a lot of piercings apparently. Her blouse stretched further as she ran… only to trip and fall, the sweat pants too long on her shorter legs.
“Time out!”
“Sure. I’ll be waiting whenever you get your shit together,” her attacker said with a laugh.
Janet flipped her back, taking notice of her fingerless gloves and buckle bracelets, her every aspect turned into goth-punk chic by way of a literal porn star bod. Her tits didn’t even look real, like they’d been grafted on and implanted to just make her bigger… and for some reason that was so hot.
She was so fucking hot.
She pulled her pants off, a checkered skirt, too short to be modest showing first, then the ripped nylons that had woven up and under from socks now gone. While she felt her shoes shift and change at last, big platform boots that utterly failed to bring her height back to the six foot something she’d had before.
Janet couldn’t even remember her size anymore.
She’d been… different right? Taller certainly, less of a skanky fashion sense.
And as she dodged to the right and the left and spun around to check her opponent in the jaw with one of those boots she was also sure she’d been some kind of weak little bitch too. Clearly, she was better now.
Right?
“This is so wrong!”
But it felt so right. She ducked under knife strike, her breasts heaving up and down as she spun under the other now near clone’s guard. Managing to trip her for a change. She was winning. She was going to-
“Enough playing around!”
She glowed purple, one eye flashing as she did. Janet only had a moment to prepare herself before she was flying through the air. Brought low by a drilling kick that had her landing hard. Coughing she felt like she’d been utterly crushed, only for the worst to come.
The humiliation as the other woman leaned down, licked her lips and copped a feel of her sizable chest whispered into her ear.
“Ya know I love big boobs,” she said, biting down briefly as she did so. “Glad you’re going to be giving me free deliveries for life…”
“Or until I put your ass in the ground you-ah!”
Her newly grown breasts were sensitive, and the woman on top of her might love big tits but that didn’t mean she was kind to them as she groped harder, grinding against her prone form before rising up.
“Anytime, anywhere. Class will always be in session.”
Janet only managed to flip her off before rolling over and slowing coming up to stand as-
Victory!
Juri
Defeat or Delivery Challenge Completed!
-as reality, or something like it came back into focus. She hobbled over to her bike, the pain fading with every step. Shaking it off, she realized that the pizza was already gone and she was left alone.
“Fuck!”
How did she lose so badly and-
Wait, what the hell had that been?
She tried to figure out how she’d ended up here, shorter, curvier, beaten to a pulp and barely like she’d been before. But for the life of her J-
J-...
“What the fuck?”
She pulled out her wallet, now a spiked and chained number and looked at her campus ID. Which was her… well not her but the her she was now. Big tits and bad attitude flipping off the camera.
J.H. Delinquent
What the fuck kind of name is that?!
Sun May 11 20:09:28 2025
2 comments Last updated: Mon May 12 08:43:01 2025