Cooking Contest (TG)

 

The day of the cooking contest was nigh. Phil was practicing and practicing his cooking skills. His city's annual cooking contest was a city staple, going on for a hundred years. With it being the hundredth anniversary of the contest, the grand prize was a whole 100 dollars! For Phil, and many others, that was incentive enough. (Most years the grand prize was a library card). Phil had barely squeezed into the sign up, becoming one of 20 lucky contestants. Each contest would be allowed to cook anything they wanted, and whoever's dish was liked the most by the judges, they would win the prize. Phil wasn't the most skilled cook, so he decided to settle on cooking fried eggs for the contest. With the hour timeframe of the competition, even with a few screw ups, Phil would have a chance. But Phil also knew that he wasn't the best cook. Even at home, practicing, at least 80% of his egg attempts ended up ruined for some reason or another. Another 17% ended up raw and undercooked. With these odds, Phil knew he needed something more to help win the contest. 

Scrambling around, Phil realized he had thirty minutes before the competition began in city park. Luckily the city provided all the food and utensils and appliances needed. He thought long and hard. Realizing his eggs would more than likely be mediocre, if not a disaster, he needed something to really sell it to the judges. He remembered hearing the phrase, "sex sells" at one point. He couldn't remember where he had heard it, but it seemed like a good enough of a plan. Phil knew he couldn't just go up to the judges and talk about sex. He had to be sneakier than that. But with time running out, and Phil really needed to get the ball rolling. He then remembered, under the sink, was something his mom told him to only take in very special occasions. Opening the cabinet door underneath the sink, Phil looked around. He saw is mom's special juice, that clear stuff he wasn't supposed to drink and then he saw it. In a mason jar labeled special grease. Opening the jar, Phil stuck his finger in and took a healthy dollop of the solidified grease. You may think this is gross, but you'd be wrong. A lot of people save grease for cooking. He looked at his finger. Its supposed to help right? Maybe it'll give him awesome cooking skills? Shrugging, Phil ate the grease, revolted by the taste but swallowing it down. 

Getting up and closing the cabinet door beneath the sink, Phil looked at the clock. He was about to be late! He threw on an apron and went out the door, rushing to get downtown to city park. He rushed ahead down the sidewalk, the grease hitting his stomach acid and causing a chain reaction. As he walked at a quick pace, his height began to dip down, slowly yet surely, with each step, his height shrinking down inch by inch, until the once 6'0 Phil shrunk to 5'8. His skin started smoothing out, losing body hair and blemishes for smooth, creamy skin. His brisk walk continued, his feet shrinking down in size, both legs slimming down losing fat and muscle. Each thigh fattened, as he walked, both thickening into creamy and juicy thighs. His hips jutted out, causing Phil to stumble a bit getting used to his new walking style, one that rolled and emphasized the hips. With rocking hips, Phil's flat ass began to plump out with flesh and fat. Two cheeks jiggled away, Phil's cargo shorts stretched to the extreme. It was uncomfortable, and Phill pulled at his shorts and underwear, trying to make the fabric comfortable. Coming to a stop, Phil winced as he felt something slimy in his underwear. He squirmed as his cock and balls slithered up into him, forming a pair of puffy lips and folds. All of Phil's indoor plumbing shifted, pumping estrogen and female dna throughout his body. The crosswalk light was still red, Phil tapping his foot, and not wanting to be arrested for jaywalking, which was a very serious crime in the city. Finally the crosswalk light showed the little walking stick figure, and Phil started walking again. Checking his watch he was still on time, just barely. As he looked, his arms thinned and narrowed, each hand shrinking down with small hands, and manicured nails. Walking still at a brisk pace, Phil's waist narrowed, and slightly out of shape and overweight stomach flattened drastically. Phil could see the park ahead. He was almost there! His adams apple vanished, giving Phil a feminine voice. His pace picked up even more. As he ran, his hair began to get into his vision, Phil swiping it aside. What he didn't notice was that his once sandy blonde hair had become a vibrant red, growing down to his upper back. His face meanwhile was shifting too. His features became softer, nose smaller to boot, while his lips were plumper. Phil's eyes were now bright red, framed by thick lashes and thin brows. Some makeup caked his face, but not much. Realizing he was about to be late, Phil started a full on run. As he ran, his chest began to itch. Figuring it was just from being unfit, Phil kept running. His nipples became larger, areolas slightly larger as well. Then fat started to bud under his nipples, slowly yet surely growing out. They kept growing and growing, out into some nice and big DD cup tits, bouncing underneath his shirt and apron. Right as he was running up to the contest entry tent, his clothes quickly shifted. His apron felt a little tighter, and he could feel the wind touch his skin as he became dressed in just some black lacy underwear. 

Luckily Phil was right in time. Able to enter the contest, with some looks. Reaching his cooking area, Phil realized hair was all in his vision, so he tied it up, at least alleviating the problem somewhat. But with the contest beginning, Phil got to frying is egg. He had an hour to perfect it. While cooking, Phil felt so confident, not even noticing the breasts in his vision as he looked down and cooked. He furiously fried that egg to the best of the ability, just putting it on the plate, when time was called. Phil's time was up, and he nervously stood before the judges as they tried everyone's food. When it was his turn for his dish to be tried, Phil tried his best to sell the judges onto his fried egg. Some judges blushed, while others stared confused or insulted. Phil gulped. When it was all said and done for, Phil got 18th place. A respectable position but still a loss. His head hanging down low, a cop stopped Phil and told him to put some clothes on. Phil confused looked down and screamed, realizing he was now a girl. Now that would take some getting used to.