Outfox Stories: stories to read and AI adventures to play, no account needed
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Chapter by
ninhjimmy007 · 17 Jul 2025 -
Now that Gena did become his mom, but why not make her a hot grandmother.
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March arrived with a whisper—no fanfare, no warning—just the quiet, shifting magic in the air as Gena blinked up at me from her place on the couch, her plush lips parting in surprise.
“Oh my…”
The words slipped from her mouth already changed—softer, slower, with a husky tremor that hadn’t been there a second before. Her hands—oh God, her hands—twitched as she lifted them in front of her face, watching as the skin wrinkled slightly, veins tracing delicate paths beneath paper-thin skin.
I couldn’t breathe.
It was happening again.
And this time, it was fast.
Gena gasped as her blonde locks streaked with silver, her ponytail loosening as her hair thickened into a voluminous mane. Her face—fuck, her face—melted into something regal, mature, framed by laugh lines and the faintest hint of crow’s feet that only made her piercing blue eyes pop.
But her body—
Oh, fuck no.
Her tits sagged—heavy, pendulous, drooping into perfect T-cup globes that spilled over the cups of her tight top. Her waist nipped in, but her hips flared wider, her ass growing rounder, softer—a thick, lush playground meant to be gripped by desperate hands.
I was hard before I realized it.
Gena—no, not Gena anymore—blinked slowly, her manicured fingers (now lined with age but still elegant) plucking at her suddenly-too-tight shirt with a bemused frown.
“Goodness, what in the world am I wearing?” she chuckled, her voice like honey and crushed velvet.
I swallowed. “Gr-Grandma?”
Her gaze flicked to mine, bright with recognition. “Oh! Nicholas, my sweet boy!” She cupped my cheek, her palm warm and slightly wrinkled. “Look at you, all grown up and handsome as ever.”
My chest ached.
Because she didn’t know.
She didn’t remember.
To her, I’d always been her grandson.
Granny Gretchen (because of course that was her name now) tutted as she glanced down at her clothes again—Gena’s tight crop top barely containing those monumental T-cup udders, her shorts straining against her newly thickened thighs.
“This simply won’t do,” she murmured, standing with effortless grace despite her age—because magic, because fuck logic—before shuffling toward the bedroom with a sway in her hips that made my mouth water.
I followed like a …
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Colm's party splits one silver a month. So when he overhears about a dungeon nobody's logged yet, he doesn't wait for the rest of his crew. He grabs the party healer, Agnes, burns their emergency teleport scroll, and goes in.
They come out with more gold than any of them have ever seen. Agnes comes out a little different.
She cooks better now. She's friendlier, too. Much friendlier. And there's something purple living in her that's been sealed in a box for a thousand years and is very, very bored.
Aldous was an alchemist once. And after relentless experiments he's now a colony of slugs who can wear anyone he likes, and he's decided Colm is the closest thing he has to a friend. He's promised to let his hosts keep control most of the time.
He's lying.
The clerk counted my pay out one coin at a time, slowly, like each one hurt her personally.
“Eleven copper,” she said.
“The posting said fifteen.”
“The farmer docked you four. For the hat.”
“The goat ate my hat.”
“He says it gave her a stomachache.”
The farmer told us she was a very special goat. He made us walk ten steps behind her the whole way so she wouldn't get nervous. She was not nervous. She ate my hat, and then, apparently, she charged me for it.
I scooped the coin…
They come out with more gold than any of them have ever seen. Agnes comes out a little different.
She cooks better now. She's friendlier, too. Much friendlier. And there's something purple living in her that's been sealed in a box for a thousand years and is very, very bored.
Aldous was an alchemist once. And after relentless experiments he's now a colony of slugs who can wear anyone he likes, and he's decided Colm is the closest thing he has to a friend. He's promised to let his hosts keep control most of the time.
He's lying.
The clerk counted my pay out one coin at a time, slowly, like each one hurt her personally.
“Eleven copper,” she said.
“The posting said fifteen.”
“The farmer docked you four. For the hat.”
“The goat ate my hat.”
“He says it gave her a stomachache.”
The farmer told us she was a very special goat. He made us walk ten steps behind her the whole way so she wouldn't get nervous. She was not nervous. She ate my hat, and then, apparently, she charged me for it.
I scooped the coin…