The Next Morning

Victoria gradually drifted into consciousness the next morning; although it was a Monday, her mother, for obvious reasons, was willing to let her skip school. She knew she would have to face her classmates sooner or later of course, but she was thankful enough for the reprieve. Not that it mattered; she'd already wished for her friends to accept her as the girl she was, and as for everone else...she found she didn't really give a damn what they thought either way; part of her new Gothic personality, she supposed.
The first thing she noticed upon opening her eyes was how much she hated the way her room was decorated; it was still Jon's room, whereas she was no longer Jon.
Ah well, she thought. Easy enough to fix.
She reached for the spot on her night table where she kept her wishing stone, only to find...nothing.
I left it downstairs! She suddenly remembered. In her exhaustion last night she had forgotten it altogether. Stupid. Victoria reassured herself that chances were that no one had done anything with it.
But still, I should get up, she decided. With that she rolled out of bed, requiring an instant to adjust to the changes in her body, and then caught her reflection in the mirror. Her long black hair was a tangled mess, and what remained of the makeup she had worn the previous day was smeared grotesquely on her face. It became clear that personal hygiene was vastly more important, now that she was a girl...but it was a small price to pay. She found that anything less than that now seemed to her to be almost disgusting.
She was pleased to note, however, that all of the essential details remained the same; her hips, her bum, her shoulders, the proud curve of her womanly bosom...she was so happy to be female! She felt so completely superior to how she had been (courtesy of her mother's wish last night) that she honestly couldn't even see how she had survived for sixteen years as a male.
Gingerly she slid her panties down the smooth, hairless skin of her legs, and drunk-in the sight of her vagina in the mirror; it was small and pink, and all too beautiful. Someday soon, she knew, it would cause her pain when she had her first period, but even that, for her, would be a wonderful monthly reminder if what it meant to be a woman.
She slid her index finger into its fleshy folds, feeling it moisten and grow pungent, while, with her other hand, she felt her breasts and rejoiced in the silkiness of her enlarged nipples. Soon she found her clitoris and massaged it over and over again, sending waves of pleasure richocheting through her body, until she couldn't sustain it anymore and orgasmed.
Ten times better that it was as a man she thought, and then her panties back up, ready to face the new day.