"Transform Into A Dirty, Buxom, Eighteen Year Old Girl," screams Jennifer down the phoneline, much to Kyle's amusement.
"Jesus, Jennifer, calm down. It's just a little bit of harmless fun. Fuck me, girl, I always knew you were stressy, but this is a bit of a joke," chuckles Kyle.
"The joke is on you," Jennifer says, hanging up.
"God, what a bitch," says Kyle.
"Uh, Kyle, what are you doing?" one of his friends asks.
"What do you mean?" Kyle asks.
"You're sucking your finger...I just wondered...why?" asks his friend.
"Oh...I don't know," says Kyle.
And while it's the truth, and Kyle doesn't know, he suddenly finds himself unable to stop. He finds his finger peculiarly compelling, and continues to suck it so. He tries to ponder the addictive qualities of an index digit, when he feels a strange tingling in his stomach, and a lurching and bubbling sensation over the rest of his body.
"I feel funny," he says.
Little prickling sensations begin to tickle his entire body, like tiny pinpricks stabbing him, and he notices all of the hair falling off of his arms. He notices all of his bumfluffy five o'clock shadow falling, too, and his eyelashes extend; his hair begins to sprout from his head at a ridiculous pace, extending down beyond his shoulder blades. It also seemed to die itself as it went, changing from a dark brown to a platium blonde.
"Oh," was the only syllable he could muster, as his throat tightened and his voice elevated to a sensually feminine tone, his lips burned as they became more full, more red. He felt his neck itself lengthening, and suddenly his insides felt like they were being punched, pulled, twisted around. He collapsed to the floor, the sensations becoming too much for him.
From his face down position on the floor, his friends no longer had such a fantastic view of the changes, but his face was reshaping, and further down the body, his nipples were twitching, becoming more sensitive, and beneath those, the mounds they rested on extended, becoming shapely, firm breasts. His belly flattened and his hips widened, and almost unfelt, his penis shriveled into a small bud, which rested at the entrance of his newly forming vagina. His legs became toned, tanned, and longer, and his feet became dainty, the toenails maintained. His arms would have finished off the look, if the changes had stopped there.
Kyle's brain burned with numbness.
Reality not being satisfied with what it had already done to a relatively innocent bystanding boy out for some fun, his clothes started smoking until he was enveloped in a fine mist, making it hard to see his shoes transform into heels, and his socks shoot up the legs and become a garter belt with stockings. The trousers changed into a relatively long skirt for what was happening inside Kyle's head, and his T-shirt changed into a low cut, high raised, oh-so-tight top, showing off the nipples of this braless wonder. Finally, a small amount of makeup adorned his face, a chain appeared around his neck that would certainly hang into his cleavage, and bracelets appeared on his arms.
The body calming down, the brain still aflame, Kyle managed to get to his feet, trying desperately to ignore the raincloud of sensations that were encompassing him.
He looked at his friends and grinned the grin of the cat with the cream, and as much as he realised everything that was happening; who he had been, and what he was probably about to do, he couldn't help but feel fantastic.