He took a deep breath, fully aware of just how weird and perverted this was gonna be. Yeah, there was no one here to actually judge Jon, thank God, but whatever happened would be a secret he kept to his grave.
“...That I would turn into a milf. An adult woman somewhere between her mid thirties to forties, with a body that can only be described as ‘voluptuous’ or ‘curvaceous.’ She has to be busty, and have thick thighs, have a huge butt—”
Jon went on and on, turning redder and redder at with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt wrong to be using this language—sexist even—but he carried on, resolute with the horny curiosity only a young man with a wishing stone could have.
“—and finally, she has a beautiful face. Looks enough like me to be a close relative, but unquestionably mature and womanly and sexy, to the point where other people might call her one of the most beautiful women they’ve ever seen.”
The stone flashed. Jon gulped. The transformation started.
It was quick and sudden, not unlike Karyn’s own transformation. Jon barely even had time to register that he’d actually changed! One moment he was still him, the tall, lanky boy he’d known himself as... And the next, gravity. He was being pulled in every which direction in ways he didn’t know he could be, his new butt and boobs all too big and heavy and impossible.
Jon’s heart was beating faster and harder than ever before, but despite it all, he smiled.
“I wish for a full length mirror.”
His pretty little jaw dropped. She was—even in his misshapen boy clothes—gorgeous. Like, photo-edited instagram model gorgeous, or even hollywood gorgeous, her body every bit as absurd and perfect as Jon wished for. And she was older. Much older than Jon, making him feel as weird and uncomfortable as he thought it would. But that was perfect, ideal even! Feeling inappropriate and out-of-place was a definite part of the fantasy.
But it wasn’t complete yet.
“I wish my hair was longer. And, uh, appropriately maintained for a woman my age?”
“I wish I was shorter.”
“...I wish I was a little taller?”
Nothing. Oh, right, he had to follow the clause he set up for himself. Though... the idea of being shorter than he wanted, with no way to change it, was kinda hot. He’d leave it for now.
“I wish that I will be unable to tell anyone I’m a teenage boy named Jon—any attempt to reference my true self will be replaced with an equivalent statement that is appropriate and expected to this new body.”
“I wish that I will be unable to swear or insult others, and will be unable to complain or display frustration when others can perceive me.”
Entrapment within his own body. No—entrapment within an ultra-beautiful, un-masculine body, following a set of compulsions like some sort a game. It was weird, absurdly specific, and highly embarrassing; it was quite possibly Jon’s oldest fantasy. Yet... He only completed the first step. It was the next batch of wishes that would truly cement this experience into something to remember.