John's thoughts were uncontrollably kinky, as he kept writing and writing, describing the woman he wanted to become. His cock was rock hard as he wrote, thinking about her tits, about her hips, about her legs, her hands... And he finished writing, reaching almost climax as he held the piece of paper and the stone with one hand, while holding his aching penis with the other.
"I wish to become the woman that I described in this piece of paper, then, I wish for me to become completely heterosexual as a woman, liking only men, and losing the appeal for women's bodies, thinking of my new breasts and ass as just body parts, then, I wish for a husband of the same age as the new me, after that, I wish for me to never lose my original identity of Jon, I would remember who I am right now, and I wish to keep the kink for being trapped in my new body without being attracted to it. Finally, I wish for this rock to disappear forever after fulfilling my wishes.
A sudden flash of light invaded the room, blinding Jon...
The change was almost instant, but he was still in his room, although, a bit different. It was bigger, looked like a master bedroom, with a king-size bed and two small tables at its sides; an air humidifier and a kitchen book at one side, while the table at the other side had a tire-shaped ash tray and a bottle of men's cologne.
Jon tried to move closer to one of the tables, but it only took him one step to feel everything else; he was standing on high heels, the skirt of the dress swayed slightly, rubbing his long, hairless legs, his ass jiggled, making him feel how the thong rode up his ass; his boobs bounced, making him feel the constant digging of his bra straps onto his shoulders, the brushing of his short, blonde hair against the back of his neck, and the heavy coat of makeup on his face.
He stood still once again, making everything bounce and jiggle a second time. Looking down, he saw the amazing valley of cleavage he had wished for; all with stretch marks and the guarantee of sagging whenever he took that teal lacy bra off. He had a flowered dress on, dark blue-colored with small red flowers. His hands were a bit wrinkled and old-looking, with long nails with bright red polish. He brought them to the fleshy orbs on his chest, and squeezed them; of course, they were sensitive, as he described them to be, just not enough to orgasm at the touch. He wanted to feel like a common woman, with boobs sensitive enough to be a point of arousal, but also enough to get tired of them after a few minutes of fondling.
He looked at his new tits and smiled, not at the thought of finally being able to squeeze a pair of tits, but at the thought of not being aroused while doing it. To test it out further, he started thinking of his mother's favorite actor: Tom Cruise, he smiled... Thinking on having him on bed and fucking him, thinking on how he was a total DILF... He quickly came back, he felt moist in his new flat crotch, and smiled again.
"Well, I guess I like men now, glad to be married to one..." He remembered. "How much was it now? 30 years of marriage?" He had wished for that, and that made him a 55 year old woman.
Speaking of which, with a new reflex that felt like he had forever, he saw the clock. He now knew that it would be any moment now that his new husband would arrive, and then he remembered; a new memory of this new womanly life, he felt like he'd been doing this as a routine for years.
"Oh my god! My meatloaf! It's gonna burn!"
