Chapter 6

Molly couldn't understand why Jake was getting so annoyed. He kept telling her that they were in a hurry ... duh! She knew they were in a hurry, that's why she wasn't fucking every guy they passed, just making them hard. Each time she noticed a guy's eyes on her (which was almost constantly, dressed the way she was) she'd bend over and show off her delectable ass until they either stopped in their tracks and gaped, or got so entranced that they ran into something.

Inspiring erections was so easy that it wasn't even a challenge any more. Fortunately, it was still fun ... after all, thought Molly, that's what she was here for!

John spent the first few minutes of Molly's "game" getting sucked into it himself; it was until the fourth or fifth time that she bent over, distracting him with her perfect rear, that he realised what was going on, and snapped at her to stop. It seemed to just go in one ear and out the other however, and Molly showed no signs that she was listening to him, or even slowing down.

One long, erotic hour later, they were finally getting close to the restaurant. As they turned the corner, a short hairy man approached the pair. Molly stared at him briefly - he too looked familiar, like she'd once lived another life and known different people - but he didn't nudge her memory in the same way that Jim had.

This man looked ... well, for one he looked like a gorilla ... but more than that, he looked important. He looked like someone she'd been waiting for. And for reasons she couldn't even come close to explaining, he looked like someone she wanted to fuck.

"How much?" he slurred in Jeff's direction, and then turned and spat on the street. Molly was confused, and waited for Jack to speak for her. Something about that seemed right, letting men do all the talking. Her job was just to stand there and wait to be told what to do.

"I'm sorry, we're in a hurry." John replied curtly. An hour of teasing had left him with an almost-painful case of blue balls, and as soon as he got into the restaurant, he planned on excusing himself and relieving the pressure. The way Molly had been behaving, he could probably convince her to come with him to the bathroom, and help him take care of the problem she'd caused ... but no, he couldn't think like that. Molly was a person, she wasn't just sex on legs. (even if when one was looking at her, it was hard to think of anything else.)

"How much for that ass?" the man continued, undeterred by John's words. "I wants to fuck it."

Molly's eyes lit up. It was if his words burned themselves straight into her soul. It was perfect. She didn't know why, but this man, this was the man she'd been saving her ass for. Her round, perfect globes had just been waiting all this time for this stout fellow to come along and part them with his cock.

The image filled Molly's mind until she wasn't aware of anything else - the street they were on, Jacob standing beside her - all she could visualise was bending over and letting this perfect specimen of man slowly slide between her cheeks, allowing him to fill her up and make her hole whole.

"I beg your pardon!?"

John couldn't believe his ears. One of the ugliest little men he'd seen had assumed ... had assumed that his Molly, beautiful professional Molly ... was a prostitute!

Of course, at a glance, it was easy to see how one could make that mistake. Her clothes, the way she was staring hungrily at the man's pants, and peeking out of the top of her shorts - was that a tattoo?

Even though the man's conclusion wasn't a massive leap of logic, John was damned if he was just going to stand by and let someone insult his girlfriend's honour like that. He stepped forward, but before he could even roll up his sleeves, the man continued.

"Five hundred dollars," the ape-like man offered, and without even letting John so much as process the words, Molly shouted her agreement and leapt into the man's arms.

"Molly!" John shouted, but to no avail. The man grinned briefly, struggling to hold the buxom woman, the the pair started passionately making out, Molly grinding frantically against him however she could.

As the two slowly started to walk away, the last of John's hope that he'd get the old Molly back crumbled away. The couple paused, as the small man set Molly down on the pavement beside him, and John ran to catch up.

"Molly!" he cried, but gave up, defeated before he even began.

"I know hows it works," said the small man, his arm around Molly's waist, his hand caressing and fondling her mostly-exposed ass as she bent over to nibble on his ear. "You wants to come in and watch, make sure I doesn't rough her up, I don't mind."

His only response a dumb nod, John followed the pair as the stranger unlocked a the tattoo parlour, simply labelled "Bubba's", and let them all in. John's mind had given up, and his body was simply along for the ride.

Bubba admired Molly's body as they walked through the door. She looked like a cartoon character, with her enormous bubble butt, bouncing with every step she took. Her tits, which hadn't been modest to start with, had almost doubled in size as well, but they were no competition with her magnificent rear. It was twice the size of a watermelon, and jutted out so perfectly from her back that it almost could have been used as a seat. And immediately above it sat her tattoo, which still looked as fresh as it had the day he'd inked her.

They'd been through the door for only a few seconds when Bubba practically ripped Molly's clothes off. She squealed in delight - there was just something so freeing, so sexy, so bouncy and fun about being naked. Dress-ups were fun too, especially stockings and skirts, but everything felt so right when she was nude, like this was how she was supposed to be.

She was thinking about how bouncy her breasts were when there weren't any icky clothes holding them down, when the strange man reached between her legs, and her brain turned off completely. He roughly inserted two fingers inside her hungry pussy, and she almost came on the spot. When he removed them just as abruptly, she almost complained, until she remembered that he'd paid for her. His pleasure was paramount; hers was incidental.

Molly's mind played with the concept for a few seconds as Bubba lowered his pants and sucked on his fingers, enjoying the taste of the buxom woman's juices. He'd paid to have her - what a funny thing to do. Didn't he know that she was his for the taking? She would have done anything he'd asked, but he'd paid good money, so that meant she had to work extra hard to make him happy.

He'd paid for her, and that meant he owned her. Molly's head started to swim as the idea burrowed deep into her consciousness - he owned her. Bubba owned her. She didn't question how she knew his name ... she just knew that he owned her tits and her legs and her pussy and above all, he owned her massive, bouncy, heart-shaped ass.

John watched in shock as Bubba's fingers, covered in a combination of his own saliva and Molly's juices, slowly entered her ass and retrieved her anal toy. It must have been up there the entire night, he realised, or at least since she'd gone inside her apartment and changed. The idea simultaneously shocked and aroused him, and his penis started to grow hard once more at the idea.

Bubba brushed his dick up against Molly's pussy-lips, using her freely-flowing juices to lubricate it. He lined it up against the tight rosebud of her enormous ass, and slowly started to push forward.

Molly moaned in pleasure. All the fucking she'd done, all the time she'd gotten herself off ... even the anal vibrator that had lived inside her for the last week - nothing compared to the feeling of the short man's cock as it slowly entered her hole.

Electricity shot through her brain, every part of her body was tingled, and she felt ... satisfied, for the first time since she got her tattoo. A deep feeling of purpose settled upon her, the rain seemed to turn into a warm bath, and her pussy and asshole throbbed in arousal as Bubba penetrated her, filling up her beautiful butt.

This, this was what she was built for. This was her purpose, to turn men on, to make them want her, to have them use her large, glorious ass.

She was crying with joy as she felt the last of Bubba's cock enter her. He was completely inside her, and started fucking her in earnest. Her large tits bounced up and down - he had no interest in being gentle, and was was clearly focussed on his own orgasm, simply using her body for sex.

She loved it.

"I'm a slut," she moaned, thinking of nothing else but on the thick rod sliding in and out of her behind. "I'm ... I'm..."

As John had watched the woman he'd once loved get used like a sex doll, fucked with no regards to her feelings or pleasure, he felt an equal mix of embarrassment and disgust. When she started shouting that this was her purpose, begging Bubba to use her, he felt sick to his stomach.

But most disturbingly of all, the worse he felt, the more turned on he felt. The depravity of the situation, Molly's willingness to be used, her obvious desire to be treated like an object, her transformation from respectable business-woman to fuckable piece of ass ... it combined with his feelings of revulsion, and somehow turned into the strongest arousal he'd ever felt.

When he finally managed to read what her new tattoo said, he stopped fighting the last of his resistance. He gave up on any dreams of saving her; she'd gotten her new purpose permanently etched onto her skin, and he couldn't deny that he'd never seen her happier.

She wanted to be used for nothing but sex; if her new body and behaviour didn't scream it loud enough, she certainly did.

"I'm a big butt slut!!" Molly moaned triumphantly. "Oh god, fill me up! Fill me up with that cock!"

She didn't notice John unbutton his pants and start to stroke. She didn't notice Bubba's sneer of victory. All she was aware of was that her orgasm was approaching, and it threatened to blow every other orgasm she'd ever had out of the water.

As John stimulated himself, he was compltely unaware of the tall man behind him. He didn't see Mitchell raise his glasses, and he didn't even feel the man reach out and touch his shoulder.

He did, however, notice the rain.

When the brief mental storm passed, John sighed. He realised it was pointless - he was never going to fuck Molly, he was never going to get a chance at that perfect ass. As he contemplated his own patheticness, even his erection failed.

John stood there, pants around his ankle, his hand still rubbing his flaccid penis. He'd been obsessed with Molly for months, ever since he'd first stepped into the strip club where she worked. He'd never even visited a place like that before, but the second he'd seen Molly on-stage, observed her perfect body and been drawn to the way she shook her rump, he'd known he was hooked.

After that, he'd been back every day after work - he'd even started taking extended lunches, just so he could go and watch Molly dance. She'd never even given him the time of day, but when she was on-stage and he was holding money out to her, he'd felt like he was the center of her universe, like she only had eyes for him.