A pins and needles sensation overtook his entire lower body. Jon heaved in surprise, utterly blindsided by sensory overload of having his hips, his thighs, his pelvis all flourish outwards as one, growing and growing and growing without foreseeable end.
“W-wait! This is going too—Oh… Oooh! A-a-ahhmmn~” Jon’s voice petered into loud, sing-song nothings. Moan and purrs fluttered past his lips, every bit as sensual and womanly as the form he’d forced himself into.
And as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop himself.
The feeling of being changed felt good. Too good. Jon couldn’t tell if it was the magic at play, or particular organs sending particular signals—either way, he was little more than a slave to his own body, forced to ride out the bizarre experience from start to finish.
He gripped the couch, a haphazard attempt to keep himself still. It was nigh-impossible; with each new pulse of magic reverberating through him, a new sequence of hip-swinging, leg-kicking spasms paired with scream-inducing pleasure.
I wish I was extremely vocal sexually and that unless I concentrated really hard on it I would be simply unable to keep quiet when sexual pleasure is involved.
His mouth popped open, and words poured out involuntarily. Blatant, vibrant, utterly soaked in pleasure—it sounded nothing like his original, boyish self.
“Fu… Fuuuuck… Yes! God Yes! There it is! Harder… I said harder!!!”
Subtlety had been violently thrown out the window.
Jon laid on the couch panting, his tiny hands shielding his face from the world. He was blushing a deep crimson, and probably would be for a good while longer.
The neighbors definitely heard him. Hell, the whole neighborhood definitely heard him.
“I’m not gonna live this down, am I?” His voice was weak, fluttery. Lucid with a sensuous purr he couldn’t seem to shake off.
He paused for a moment, waiting for the leftover adrenaline to leave his system. Then, ever-so-cautiously, he forced himself to sit upwards and gauge the damage.
“Oh. My. God.”
Beep beep.
His eyes widened. His mouth fell open. His mind worked a mile a minute, trying to find an appropriate label for what he was seeing.
Applebottom.
His leggings were stretched to their absolute limit. The.. thing they were containing was a perfectly shaped mass of cushiony goodness, levels more soft and squishy and massive than what any woman deserved to be inflicted with.
He’d never fit in normal pants again.
Badonkadonk.
He was still on the sofa. Vertically, he was short enough to fit along it. But horizontally, his pendulous hips were simultaneously touching the backrest and edge—and he still felt cramped.
Thicc.
Slowly, he pointed a leg upwards. It was decidedly heavier. Not so much that he was immobile or even slowed, but the extra circumference on his plush thigh was beyond apparent.
He took a sharp breath and forced himself up.
Big Booty Judy.
...And squeaked in frustration when gravity tried wrestling him back down. The queenly derriere was being pulled in three directions at once, only kept teetering by his contrastingly petite feet.
On anyone else, his breasts would have been a point of focus. Jon was a stunning woman, that was never in question, but his bust size was a statistical rarity, more than likely to enrapture onlookers. Now… The boobs were completely overshadowed. When people noticed him, and people would most definitely notice him, there was no argument as to what they would notice first and foremost.
Jon gave his butt an experimental squeeze, blown away by how far it extended from his body. It had to be at least twice as big as before.
...
Fuck it. He already reached this point, might as well roll with it.
“I wish Sue was self-conscious about her butt size.”
A pause.
“And I wish David would absolutely love his wife’s ass, going as far as to squish it, spank it, and fondle it on a regular basis, even when Sue makes it clear she doesn’t want him to.”
