"...maid." What?! Why would being his maid mean he was the right to fuck him? Jake generated another sentence.
"Mr. Thomson gives his maids a generous tip every time he fucks them." Great. Well, Jake was going to need a lot of sentences to fix this. The sleeve of his French maid outfit slipped off his shoulder. He sighed as he generated a new sentence.
"Jake's uniform fits him poorly." He might as well be comfortable while he's fixing things. Jake changed "poorly" to "perfectly". But the uniform didn't change.
Jake gasped as his chest bulged out, becoming massive breasts that filled the bust of the dress just right. His butt expanded until the skirt was just high enough that everything was covered when he stood, but anyone who saw him bend over might get mooned. His legs became more shapely so that his stockings stayed up, his feet shrunk to fit his heels. Even his arms changed so the sleeves would no longer fall down. In short, below the neck, Jake was an absolutely gorgeous woman. But above? He was still a man in his 20s.
"Jake, get back to work!" a voice scolded. Jake turned. Three attractive young women stood nearby. They were also wearing maid uniforms. "Just because you're a freak doesn't mean you get to slack off!" said the blonde of the group.
"Um. Right," Jake mumbled. He bent over and pretended to dust something with the feather duster he was holding. The other maids sauntered off.
"Go easy on him, he has a gland problem," one of the women whispered.
"I don't care. He still has to pull his weight!"
Jake fumed. Plans of returning to normal were put on hold. He had some vengeance to enact. He took out his phone and generated a new sentence.
"Jake is nothing like the other maids." Eager to see what would happen, Jake changed "nothing" to "exactly" and submitted the change.