Unlike most of Jon's experiences in Girl World, this one wasn't pleasant. Dragged along by the power of the conveyor, he was at the mercy of the machine, powerless to fight it. It wasn't a straight ride, either, but he would travel five or six feet, then be forced around a sharp corner, then another five or six feet before he would turn again.
Very quickly he learned to not fight his progress. When he tried to grab onto something, he was only met with sparks coming off the walls, or rug burn from the conveyor tread. Not that he wasn't getting rug burned; every turn seemed to rub his skin raw. His entire body was sore from the experience.
His clothes, or what was left of them, didn't last long either. The dress had been torn off first, but after a minute his stockings had ripped to shreds and his shoes had fallen off. His bra and panties had lasted a bit longer, but not much. Soon, completely naked, Jon was travelling through the machine, holding his hands over his breast forms, desperately trying to leave them undamaged. They did, after all, make him look so tough; he'd always wanted to have big pecs, and he'd be damned if he'd let this machine take that away from him.
The conveyor slowed, and just as Jon was about to think he would be free, something clamped onto his hair. The rough feeling of the conveyor moving along below him as he was stuck was more than painful, but not nearly as painful as when, a moment later, the conveyor fell away and Jon was left suspended by his hair. There he hung for at least a minute, afraid to increase the pain by struggling, afraid that he would be stuck there forever.
Whatever held him so firmly began to vibrate, causing his breast forms to jiggle. If he hadn't been hurting so much he probably would have laughed at the comical feeling. Then, a moment later, the trap opened and he fell. It wasn't a long fall, maybe five feet, and he landed on something soft. His hands left his breasts and went to rub his sore head only to find that he had changed. Somehow, while hanging by his hair, his hair had stretched out. No longer did he have a short brown haircut, but now long brown flowing locks.
A smile came to his face. He didn't have a mirror, but Jon was sure that it looked cool. Like Fabio, and he got all the chicks! His mind went to all the hairstyles he'd be able to try: braids, pig-tails, pixie cuts, even bee-hives. The women wouldn't be able to resist him!
His body, still stinging from the conveyor, was the next to get his attention. His hands rubbed up and down his legs, his arms, his stomach. They were all remarkably smooth, which was odd. He had never been the hairiest guy, but it seemed that the conveyor had ripped every hair below his neck from his body! No wonder he was so sore! Another smile crept onto his face. At least he wouldn't have to worry about having to trim any of it (it never occurred to him that he'd never had to in the past).
Satisfied that he had come through the ordeal better than he had hoped, Jon set to discovering his new surroundings. Looking around, he found that he was...
