It was an uneventful day for No Records for Posers, which wasn’t surprising on its own nor unwelcome; Sylvia preferred it that way, as it gave her time to enjoy her music without something as mundane as customers to interrupt. Yet now, in the evening, two hours from quitting time, the naga girl was trying her best to kill the time by browsing the net. Having listened to her playlist nine times in a row already, she was in need of a more interesting distraction. With an annoyed sigh, she blew a strand of hair away from her face, pulled her ear plugs out and tentatively began to pout.
At that moment, the shop’s door opened up, and Sylvia’s spirits lifted, the serpentine woman hoping for someone to talk to or at least to shout at.
Disappointment shattered that hope, because the person who walked in was just an old lady with a hunch, dressed in a patchwork jacket with a knitted headscarf on her head and a strangely patterned skirt that went down to her ratty shoes.
Sylvia stayed leaned over the counter, feeling no need to get riled up. Great, she thought, Another bag lady comin’ to bum some change or hang around in a warm building.
Still bored, Sylvia took in a deep breath and shouted out from her end of the store, “Hey! This place is for customers only! If you haven’t got any money and are just looking for some place warm, go try the homeless shelter two blocks over!”
To Sylvia, the woman looked a lot like a pile of walking dish rags, and she immediately turned her head towards the naga to reveal a face that even a mother couldn’t love. Her nose was bulbous and lumpy like an unpeeled potato, one eye seemed larger than the other and her yellow teeth were slanted like tombstones, forming a grin that could only be called crazy at the best of times. The old wretch cackled before she answered.
“Oh, my, you’re a feisty one! Say, young lady, this is a record shop, isn’t it? I have been searching for one for quite some time. I’ve only been able to find the strange ‘computer’ shenanigans, when what I desperately want is an old record.”
Sylvia raised one of her eyebrows, for she definitely hadn’t taken the old woman for a fan of classic rock. But then she just shrugged and put on a wolfish smile to show her sharp teeth.
“You came to the right shop, granny,” Sylvia hissed. “I only sell the finest records, even of the new stuff, elaborately pressed into vinyl for the discerning music lover. What are you searching for?”
The old woman emitted a gurgling noise that might have been another laugh, beginning to jump from one leg to another, highlighting the fact that one was longer. “Oh, how wonderful,” she croaked, “I am searching for ‘The very best of gypsy 80’s.’ An album with only the best songs for dancing to, made by Romani musicians. It is near impossible to get a copy these days!”
Sylvia’s jaw dropped. She felt fury building up at the fact she’d put on her vendor behavior for this farce. Gritting her pointed teeth, the naga began to shake with suppressed rage that made her whole body tremble. Her buttocks began to wriggle along with the rest of her. Normally hidden behind the J-shaped counter, customers couldn’t see her gigantic lower half, but now Sylvia was mad enough to rise up and bring her entire body into glorious view. She used the muscles of her tail to lift up off the ground, and planted her fists on her cushiony hips.
“What do you think this is?” she growled. “A JUNK shop? I sell punk, industrial and all the kinds of hard rock in here! I didn’t even know there were enough ‘gypsy’ songs to FILL a ‘best of’ album and I could have gone my whole life WITHOUT knowing it! You’re going to leave my shop NOW or I swear I’ll wrap my tail around you and THROW you out!!”
Sylvia shook so much that her titanic buttocks make small clapping noises, and all these things combined clearly had an impact, as the old woman took a few steps back. But then, she raised one gnarled finger.
“You are bigger than I expected, young lady, but it takes more than a… than a fat snake-cow to scare me! I am not leaving until I have found my record, and there is nothing that you can do about it!” She crossed her arms and nodded, but didn’t seem to see the dangerous glint in Sylvia’s eyes.
“Fat snake-cow?” Sylvia repeated. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue over her pointed teeth, and then began to mount the counter. “Okay, potato-face. It is ON!!”
Pouring over the countertop, the naga put her powerful tail muscles to work to slither forward with a frightening speed relative to her size. The gypsy had assumed Sylvia’s threats to be empty, but now the snake-woman was charging at her, and the old hag began to hobble away, turning around a book shelf to escape the punky serpent.
What followed was a chase that most would have thought more fitting for an old cartoon, too ridiculous and comical to be taken seriously. Despite her obvious infirmity, the old woman had every incentive to avoid the shop keeper and displayed impressive agility under that pressure. Sylvia, meanwhile, showed how her body was clearly not made for maneuvering in tight spaces like her record store. Her hips jumped from side to side like a frenzied metronome, getting caught on nearly every shelf.
Records started to rain down on her giant buttocks, the violence of her pursuit turning the impacts to spanks and producing yet more turbulence on her lower half, however, Sylvia ignored the damage she was causing, focused on chasing the offending gypsy.
Every time she neared, the old woman would turn on a dime and slip through her grasp, and the larger girl would spin about rapidly to keep up, something that her massive ass, with its weight and sheer volume, should not have been able to do. On more than one occasion, the faded cardboard stand-up of some old rock legend or idol fell victim to the two scaled, onyx wrecking balls, and the chase only stopped when Sylvia knocked over an entire wooden shelf of records.
Both women were winded, and the old hag raised her hands to signal she was giving up.
“Fine,” she lamented, “I will leave, but mark my words—I will forget neither your rude treatment nor your foul mouth!” She emitted another chuckling gurgle and pointed at Sylvia, warning, “You should treat others as you yourself with to be treated! It might be that you—“
But the woman’s words were interrupted by a coffee cup flying through the air, missing only by a few inches. “Oh, please,” Sylvia responded venomously, “Who are you trying to scare with that crap? A gypsy CURSE? Really?! That is SUCH a cliché! Why don’t you go across the street to that hipster soup bar, those losers are crazy about flicks from the last century!”
The old woman looked wounded, and tried to protest again. “Back in my day, we allowed our elders to speak uninterrupted! We have a tradition and I—“
Another thrown object, this time a record, hit the wall behind her. “Okay, okay,” she screeched, “I’m going!”
The gypsy left the shop and Sylvia was left in a mess of toppled shelves, shattered records and two sore ass cheeks, which had taken considerable punishment during her chase of the offensive Romani intruder. The naga was extremely angry and wanted to close the store at that moment, but she knew she couldn’t leave things in such a state. With an annoyed growl, she wedged her wide hips into the door behind the counter to collect the broom and dustpan.
= = =
The old gypsy hobbled away from the record store, making her way up the alley beside it. At the end of the way was a large old trailer, so brightly and garishly painted that not even dogs would lift their legs next to it. The wooden sign nailed above the doorway of the dwelling read Madame Romani’s potions & spells for daily use.
She opened the door, still mumbling to herself about the disrespectful treatment she had just endured, and the inside of the trailer was a mess of clothes, leftover food and strange magical objects like talismans, monkey paws and other weird relics or totems. Madame Romani began digging through the piles, opening cupboards and even searching the drawer with her underwear.
“Where is it, where is it…?” She mumbled to herself. “I know it is here somewhere! I am going to teach that fat hussy a lesson, who’s so proud of her big ass, that curves can also be very dangerous! And then, she will learn to respect an older woman who just wanted to buy a record in the wrong shop…”
The gypsy began to laugh menacingly, but was interrupted by a heavy knocking upon the door.
“Hello? Is anyone in there?” a man’s voice called. “This is the Dynamic City Police Department! You can’t park your trailer here! This is a public street and if you don’t move this vehicle, we have leave to enter the premises and arrest the owner!”
The old woman cursed under her breath. “Oh damn, the police! I need to leave this area… where is that teleportation spell?”
Whilst rummaging through yet more junk, the gypsy knocked over a stack of dusty books, and out of them fell a record. “Ohhh, here you are,” she said in a pleased manner. “The one and only song written and performed by ‘The Snake Charmers.’ A song based on an ancient tune that they found drawn over the walls of an oriental tomb! Laced with the hypnotic power of making snakes dance! With luck, it will work on that sassy girl too, but that’s not enough! I’ll add my own spell to punish her further!”
She began mumbling and a black cloud formed between her hands, which moved forward to engulf the record. When the cloud vanished, so too did the record, and the gypsy laughed once more. The knocking at the door became more forceful and the Madame Romani knew it was time to leave.
Before the policemen’s very eyes, the wheels of the trailer were engulfed in black clouds of their own, and the whole structure lifted up into the sky. It would have been a majestic and breathtaking sight, had it not been for the bright and gaudy colors of the thing.
The two cops looked at each other, one saying “Are we going to report that?”
The other shook his head no, responding “No way! We’ll pretend this never happened. Let’s get something to eat and call it a night.”
= = =
Meanwhile, Sylvia was rummaging through the piles of broken vinyl on the floor, searching for records which had managed to stay in-tact. Distressingly few of the abused albums had managed to stay whole, and she was grateful she’d only knocked over a few shelves in her pursuit of the wretched old hag.
Sylvia soon sighted a single record on top of a pile of debris, and was relieved to see one in good condition. Yet the name was not one she recognized—The Snake Charmers.
“Hmm… I thought I knew every band and song we had in here,” she reflected. “Maybe this one was hidden and the commotion knocked it free. Guess this wasn’t a total loss.”
The naga decided to take a break and moved back behind the counter to set up the record player. The disc ran smoothly, meaning its surface hadn’t been ravaged, but when the tune began, Sylvia was a bit disappointed. It wasn’t the worst song she’d heard, but she’d also listened to plenty better. She gave it her ear for a few more seconds, and then decided to shut the music off, but then noticed her body wasn’t following her own commands.
She looked around herself and realized only belatedly that her arms were up around her head and her lower half was moving back and forth. Then, her upper body moved left while her lower half moved right, bumping her buttocks into the counter.
Realization struck her. “Oh, you gotta be friggin’ kidding me! She really cursed that record to make me dance?! That is so… so cheesy!”
That was only half of the curse, however; as the music went on, the gypsy’s own addition to the power of the disc began to take effect. Before, the naga’s ass had only hit the counter during extreme twists, but now it had begun to hit the counter with the slightest of motions. With shock Sylvia realized that her sable-scaled hips had started to push out further than they had been before. Her butt cheeks bloated, becoming bigger and bigger by the second. They had been huge before, but now they were becoming irredeemably enormous, trapping her in the J-shaped counter of the store.
Sylvia wanted to get free, but the hypnotic power of the record’s song still gripped her, forcing her to dance in place even as her lower body ballooned. Not only the hips and butt were growing, but her tail seemed to be enlarging as well, getting thicker and wider. The tip had already pushed itself up between her fat cushiony cheeks and the wooden store counter. It wriggled in front of her face before drooping down towards the ground with its newly added weight.
Sylvia was rapidly running out of space, and since her growing ass couldn’t go to the sides, it decided it would go up. The pressure of the unyielding counter forced her scaled flesh to squeeze upward, and she could feel the meat of her own ass strike her still-dancing arms, the impact of which seemed to disrupt the control the record had over her. She pressed her regained arms into her buttocks, but the finger sank right into the onyx-colored mass. The feeling made Sylvia moan; wrist-deep in her own black scaled fat ass, the sensation was incredible.
The naga had always been proud of her grand backside, and the trophy on the store’s counter was proof of that: she had won the annual Dynamic City Butt Contest three years in a row, but now it seemed she was getting trapped within the thing she took so much pride in. The flesh had pushed itself so far up that the sides were sandwiching her body between them.
She couldn’t help but laugh as she tried to stem the flow of her body with her elbows, as she was likely the first woman ever whose own butt was trying to dominate and overpower her. A typical person’s reaction might have been fear, but Sylvia could only marvel at how good it felt, how soft and pleasurable it was to get trapped her own ass cheeks.
Before that fate could befall her, though, her tail saved her once again, as it had expanded so far that it pushed her up out of the counter’s enclosed space with a plopping noise. Her hips came free and again had space to grow, and they did so all over the surface of the counter. The pressure was gone and Sylvia felt so relieved that she actually began to genuinely enjoy what was happening to her.
Her tail was still trapped in the J-shape of the counter, but her butt had all the space it needed to surge forward like an ocean of black-scaled fat. Sylvia felt like a queen, sitting upon a throne of plump obsidian snake ass, and she loved it.
The tattoo on her hip had been stretched so much by her expansion that it looked like an eyes-closed smiley face, similar to those often seen in Japanese advertisement signs. It seemed to be smiling at her, and Sylvia smiled back.
At last, Sylvia’s body made contact with the record player on the edge of the counter, pushing it towards the ground. Her massive hips obscured her vision, but the sound of the player breaking was recognizable to her, and the music stopped at once. She no longer felt the compulsion to dance, nor had any fear that her buttocks and hips would get so big as to destroy the whole shop.
With a sigh of relief, she looked around at herself to see just how big she had gotten. She could easily feel the counter’s rough wooden texture against her skin, but she also heard it creaking beneath her new weight. Mischief in mind and a smile still on her face, she moved her muscles back and forth, making the creaking louder and louder until it intensified to a cracking, splintering sound.
Finally it broke apart like a dam no longer able to hold back a flood of the finest butt meat, and her cheeks finally had the space they needed to sag down. Despite the fact she ceased her own efforts to move, the flesh of her lower half continued to jiggle all on its own, too rich and soft to be stopped that easily. The behemoth buttocks giddily clapped together as if applauding Sylvia on her new, even more impressive proportions.
Her tail was now so big that her piercings were barely visible, and the snake belt around her tail was so stressed that it looked like the little golden serpent looked frightened of popping off at the threat the additional flesh presented.
Idly, Sylvia hoped the changes weren’t permanent; she wouldn’t be getting through any doors like this, but at this point in time, she was too busy groping, pulling and shaking herself that those concerns were distant and faint. Her butt was so soft, sensitive and oh-so-beautiful that she decided to take a few photographs… if she could just manage to bend down and grab the smart phone lying next to her…