A Game of Basketball
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BOYS CAN'T PLAY BASKETBALL
By Wyrdey
"Ready to lose, girlies?" Brad sneered.
While the other members of the school's female basketball team glared at
him, I just grinned.
We were going to win this game, I was quite certain of that.
That's why I'd convinced the others to challenge these cocky jocks to a
match. We were so tired of Brad and his buddies making all those sexist
remarks.
"We keep telling you," Mack bellowed, "girls can't play basketball!"
He ran around doing an impression of a bimbo playing - taking little
steps, flailing his arms, doing little limp-wristed throws. The rest of
the team laughed hysterically, cheering as Mack pretended to miss a throw
and fell on his ass with a little-girly squeak.
I was enjoying it even more than they were.
The truth is that boys probably do have an advantage in playing
basketball, but there was one thing that they didn't know.
I'm a Witch.
Witches love advantages, but only if they're ours.
You probably don't believe in Witches or magic. That's fine, in fact it's
exactly how we like it.
The reason that no-one has seen a real Witch in a long time is simple: in
the 17th century, we had a breakthrough in magic technique - we learned to
change reality itself.
People used to notice when we turned our enemies into frogs or statues,
but that all changed. Now when he affect something, reality itself changes
so that people remember it always being that way.
It's great! You can do absolutely anything that you want and no-one's the
wiser.
That's why I was grinning to myself as we prepared to start the game.
I was going to give us a little edge.
We stood in two groups, the girl's and the boy's basketball teams, each
dressed in our uniforms. We were similar-ish heights - the boys were a bit
taller - and they certainly beat us in weight, but we were still pretty
fairly matched.
I just hate fairness, don't you?
I made my first little change as we were just about to start.
Some of the girls felt the sudden need to glance down, and one or two
unconsciously put a hand to their chest as they sensed on some level that
something was different.
Our bras simply vanished and our boobs weren't far behind, growing smaller
and harder.
After a moment, not just us, but every girl in the world was as flat-
chested as a prepubescent boy. Our clothes tightened and altered to
accommodate the change.
Then something started happening to the boys...
It was barely noticeable at first, but soon two little cones were tenting
out the front of their tops. It was hilarious to watch their vague,
puzzled glances as the bumps began to soften and expand.
And boy did they expand!
Soon the smallest boy was at least a D cup, and some, like Brad, were
verging on an F. They paid no attention as the necklines of their uniforms
flowed down into a scoop-neck, giving onlookers a sexy little glimpse of
their big, pretty melons. One or two of them reached down to make some
little adjustment to their new, straining, sports-bras.
Boys were now the ones with boobs. No-one was surprised - after all, it
had always been that way...
It must have been a bit cold because the boys' pretty young nipples were
poking through their tops like marbles as they walked off to their
positions, their chests swaying delightfully.
"Nice tits!" I whispered to a boy as I walked past him. He blushed
prettily.
"Ready to lose?" Brad called out again, his chest thrust out proudly in a
way that made his hooters look even bigger.
The game started. The boys were being slowed by the bouncing of their
immense breasts, but still managing fairly well.
"How'd ya like that, girlie?" he laughed as he grabbed the ball during a
pass.
I didn't like his tone, but then I could fix that.
"I keep telling you..." he began, before his voice suddenly broke and
lifted into a high soprano. "Girls can't play basketball!" he piped in his
darling new voice, sounding like a six-year-old girl breathing helium.
"Yeah!" the other boys cooed prettily.
We all just laughed. The insults continued, but it was hard to take
anything seriously when said in that silly little squeak.
The boys tried to pass the ball, but I had other ideas.
Their nice new boobies weren't slowing them down as much as they could...
Terry jumped just as his bra, and all boy's bras, began to change. They
shrunk down and became lacy and satiny as they turned into push-up bras -
each at least a size too small.
The boy's cleavages spilled from their revealing tops.
Terry was thrown off balance by the weight jiggling on his chest and
missed his shot. It didn't make much difference. Brad was the catcher and
I had weakened his bra-strap so that it snapped the instant he landed. He
gave a squeal and his hands flew to his unrestrained knockers, cupping
them gorgeously.
He looked up just in time to see the ball come flying down and hit him
hard, squarely across his chest. He gave another squeal and his hands flew
up, popping his boobs from his top and leaving them to dance gorgeously
for our delight.
The girls all cheered and whistled in delight. He blushed a brilliant red
and ran off the court, covering himself as best as he could. When he
returned, he was quietly annoyed and even more determined to beat us.
He'd put on his normal school bra instead, which was even smaller, more
revealing, and obviously unsuited to sports.
He popped out again almost immediately, but this time only the top half of
one of his big, pink nipples was visible and he didn't notice.
We didn't tell him either.
We were going for an early score when Mark, playing defence, leapt up to
block the ball.
Normally he would have succeeded easily.
But the moment that he left the ground, he, like all other boys, began to
shrink, his muscles melting away. By the time he approached the ball, he
was barely five feet tall and built like a little girl. He squeaked and
stretched his tiny little stick arms out for the ball, but it sailed high
above him and went in the basket.
The tiny little boys sulked as we cheered and high-fived.
"Beginner's luck" Mark pouted as he reached down to pick up the ball,
apparently unaware of the excellent view down his top that he was giving
everyone.
It was gorgeous - you could even see the frilly top of his little lacy
pink bra.
He passed to Bill, who probably would have caught it - if his ass-length
blonde hair hadn't suddenly fallen across his face and blocked his sight.
As it was the ball bounced off his head, knocking him on his bum, and flew
straight into my hands.
Bill just sat on the ground where he had fallen and gathered his hair up
in his hands before picking his pink ribbons up off the floor and tying
his hair back into cute little pigtails like all the other boys had.
However had they come loose?
By now it was easy to keep the ball away from the boys, they were so
short.
Karen just stood in one place with the ball over her head for a few
moments, laughing down at all the little boys straining and bouncing up to
try to reach it - I think she just liked having them all rubbing their
boobs all over her like that.
Finally, she reached down and tweaked one's big, prominent nipples and
tossed it over his head as he squealed and grabbed at himself.
Being the generous Witch that I am, I decided I'd give the boys a bit of a
hand with their height.
As they were running along after the ball, breasts bouncing, they suddenly
had to start taking smaller, daintier steps and swaying their hips
prettily as their shoes began growing a heel.
Pretty soon they were all wearing the standard sport shoes for a boy -
seven-inch stilettos.
And didn't they look just too precious as they teetered their dainty way
along, running with their tiny little steps and arms flailing, moving much
slower than our walking speed.
It was so wonderful, I felt that I should make it better still. The boy's
little shorts strained to contain them as their hips and asses -
especially asses - swelled womanishly. Their big, firm ass cheeks finally
popping from around the back of their tiny shorts and wiggling in plain
sight.
They were so gorgeous!
We'd wait for them sometimes, holding the ball down where they could reach
it and watching them as they came wiggling along, big boobies bouncing
uncontrollably, whimpering with effort. It was so fun to watch their
pretty little faces as you yanked the ball from their little grasp and
tossed it to someone on the other side of the room.
The game was a cakewalk now, so I decided to have some fun.
I made their faces girly and cute and covered them with makeup, I made
their bodies hairless and with delicate, creamy skin, I gave them earrings
and belly piercings, but I especially had fun with their clothes.
I shrunk the boy's uniform down to super-revealing little two piece thing,
and made the top so thin that it was almost completely transparent. I got
a further idea when I saw Brad leaning over to pick up a ball that had
been 'accidentally' dropped right in front of him. His big pretty ass was
waving in the air as he cooed in delight and reached for the ball.
He'd look so much better in a skirt.
They all would.
His shorts suddenly split between his legs and the fabric began to shrink
and pull up over his big, jiggly ass, baring it for all the world to see.
Soon he was dressed a tiny little pleated microskirt, barely four inches
wide, that perfectly showed off his swollen behind and the frilly little
pink panties that were straining to contain it.
Just as he was about to grab the ball, a girl, as planned, ran past and
pinched him on his exposed buttocks. He shrieked and let the girl easily
snatch the ball from grasp, before pouting after her as he rubbed at his
aching cheeks.
The boys were gorgeous to just watch, prancing around in their adorable
little uniforms.
Brad stood in a huff, arms folded. He looked so cute, barely five feet
tall, golden curls spilling from his little pigtails and framing his sweet
little face, with its big crystal blue eyes and adorable little pout. His
nipple was still poking into sight, unnoticed amongst the mountains of
cleavage spilling from his tiny see-through top.
He sometimes still rubbed at his ass cheeks where they bulged from beneath
his tiny little microskirt, as he constantly struggled to remain upright
in his big stilettos.
The game was easy now, but the boys sometimes still got in the way as they
made pathetic little attempts to jump.
I smiled as I realised how to fix that.
Suddenly every boy's chest bounced and jiggled uncontrollably as every bra
in the world vanished, erased from existence.
Their huge, gorgeous boobs were now on permanent display, their big, red
nipples plainly visible through the filmy fabric of the tiny little tops
that their knockers bulged around.
The loss of support made it hard for them to walk, let alone jump. When
they tried to move they took little steps, giggling at the bouncing of
their boobs, and kept their little arms way out to try to keep their
balance.
I only saw one try to jump in the air.
It was Mack. Giggling to himself, he bit his lip in concentration and
wrapped an arm around his vast, jiggling bosoms before he took a pathetic
little bunny-hop in the air, his other arm straining upwards for a ball
that missed him easy. He landed on his ass, boobs popping from his top,
and giggled uncontrollably for ages.
The boys were no competition, but that doesn't mean the game wasn't fun.
We amused ourselves all kinds of ways, like 'accidentally' handing the
ball to a boy and watching his cute little face light up with delight,
then rushing past and giving his top a tiny yank. It was so funny the way
they squealed in their cute little piping voices and dropped the ball to
instead grab at the huge creamy spheres that danced so happily in front of
them.
When the game was finally over, I ran up to the still-sulking Brad and
gave him a little slap on his exposed posterior, loving the way that it
jiggled. He squeaked and, blushing, tried vainly to pull his inches-wide
skirt further down his ass.
The captain approached and, after some slapping and tweaking of her own,
pointed to the scoreboard.
78-0.
I think that's fair, don't you?
"We keep telling you," we all laughed, repeating the mantra that we had
been chanting at them all week, "boys can't play basketball!"
"Now off you go and practice" the captain called as we all laughed down at
the pretty little pouting things.
Sulking, the boys wiggled off the court, their big, bare asses swaying
under their tiny skirts almost as prettily as their huge, firm breasts did
in their tiny tops.
They teetered over to the sidelines where they had left their huge fluffy
pom-poms and, still sulking, began to practice their cheers.
"Whatever made our cheerleaders decide to challenge us to a game?"
Michelle asked me, laughing. "How could they think that they'd win? I
mean, sure they're hot..." she said, eyeing them as they cheered in their
pretty little voices, their asses wiggling and boobs bursting free with
their every tiny movement. "But everyone knows that basketball is a girl's
game - always has been!"
I smiled and agreed as I watched our pouting cheerleaders.
The only one who looked happy was Mack, and a little bimbo like him would
always be happy when he was showing himself off. Brad's petulant little
pout made him look even sexier than he normally did, and everyone knew
that he was the Cheer Squad captain for a reason.
Well, two reasons...
His immense boobies had popped out again, and he was blushing as he tried
to cram them back in.
The boys would only be able to practice for a little bit longer before it
would be time for then to go to their new jobs at Hooters.
We would be popping in to see them after practice...
I'm sure I'll turn them all back eventually... just maybe not for a week
or so...
I love being a Witch.
Mckenna
- 11.08.2022
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