Anthony woke up to the sound of a shower. There was a certain amount of disorientation he was experiencing. Probably a side-effect of the transformation, he told himself. He had blacked out, after all.
He was very comfortable. Silk sheets encased his body. He could smell a sweet perfume which he assumed was his wife's. Looking around, though, he saw that he was alone in the bed.
He deduced that she was in the shower, since it had now become obvious to him that the shower he heard was in the ensuite to the bedroom he was in. Good, he thought, maybe she'll be ready for some sex when she gets out.
He wasn't sure if he'd ever felt so horny in his whole life. He was craving his sex. Not just regular sex, either. Every kind of sex. Sex on the bed, sex on the floor, sex in the kitchen. He craved sex standing up, sex on his knees from behind, sex with his legs wrapped around his partner, even oral sex. Yes, that would do nicely. He imagined himself finally getting his partner hard enough that he could suck him off until...
Wait. What the fuck was that.
Anthony was NOT comfortable with what had just transpired in his mind.
He sat up, only to discover that his centre of gravity was WAY off. It had to do, he figured, with the huge tits that he now sported on his chest.
"What the fuck!" he said out loud this time.
He was dressed in a short dress that he remembered dressing his wife's avatar in on the flight over. This wouldn't do at all.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and absentmindedly slipped on his high heeled shoes with their two inch platforms. Wiggling over to the mirror he couldn't help pause and admire himself. A minute or two wouldn't hurt; he had lots of time to go and complain to management.
Anthony was sexy. Exactly as he had designed his wife, so he was now. Built for sex. And he wanted it, too. Horny as hell, he thought, just as he had wanted her. Again thoughts of being ravaged in many different ways flitted through his mind. Again he shook it off, trying to hold onto his masculinity.
The shower stopped. Anthony heard his wife climbing out of the shower. He imagined the body that he had designed for himself, which he now assumed his wife bore. A wetness formed between his legs. More sexual images racked his brain, creative, disturbing images. He tried to shake them off, but found he couldn't. He needed cock, and he needed it now.
He wiggled his way to the bathroom door and knelt down, waiting for his wife to emerge.
