Mrs. Johnson was now a teen dream. But she looked
really confused! “Joe? Is that you?” she asked, dazed.
Yes, Mrs. ... uh... Miss ... um.... What did you say your
name was again?” I had no idea what Mrs. Johnson’s
first name was.
“Um... Amy.” Even she didn’t sound so sure. “Wha--
What’s happening to me?” she stammered.
“Just a few changes, Amy -- And just a few more...”
She was still wearing the gray shorts and blue
sweatshirt that Mrs. Johnson was wearing, now baggy
on her new, lithe body. That would never do...
“I wish that Amy was wearing something really hot --
and really cute!”
Suddenly, the sweatshirt morphed into a pink baby-tee,
cut low and really tight, showing off her youthfully perky
breasts. A tiny pink bow hung on for dear life on the
neckline, right at her magnificent cleavage. The legend
“Baby Soft” was printed tight across her bust line. The
bottom of the tee stopped right below her breasts,
showing off an impossibly thin waist and midriff.
Meanwhile, the gray shorts transmogrified into a
blindingly white, pleated miniskirt. The skirt was tight
enough to hug her squeezable buns, but not so tight
that there wasn’t plenty of “action” as she swayed down
the hall. But she couldn’t sway too much -- the skirt was
so short that it was next to impossible not to expose her
new pink panties when she walked.
Plus, her beat-up, dirty tennies turned into hot pink Mary
Jane's and her floppy sweat socks became lacy white
anklets at the ends of her impossibly long, slender
legs.
“Wh-- What are you doing to me?” Amy questioned, now
even more dazed.
I took her hand. “It’s okay. Just one more thing,” I said.
“I wish Amy’s hair was cute, too!”
Her long blonde hair began to swirl around Amy’s head
like a thing alive, loosening itself from the shapeless
ponytail that Mrs. Johnson was wearing. Then it began
to curl itself slightly -- not tight curls, just enough to give
the hair lots of body and bounce. Her hair began to part
in the back, pulling itself up tight against her head --
high, and on both sides. Magically, two large pink bows
appeared to hold the massive pigtails in place. Amy
could feel their weight -- When she shook her head, the
bouncy pigtails tickled her nose. She smiled.
I smiled too. Amy sorta looked like a little girl -- but that
was no little girl bod! She was now the hottest babe in
school! Not bad for a 35-year-old teacher! Teen dream,
indeed!
(And besides, I gotta thing for pigtails. So sue me.)
Amy checked out her new outfit, alternately giggling and
scowling -- it was obvious that her mind was still
struggling to comprehend what was happening. I
wondered how it would ultimately turn out.
Then Amy got her bearings, crossed her arms in front
of her (in disgust?) and glared at me. “I may not know
exactly what is going on here, but I know one thing -- I’m
still your science teacher, and I --”
Uh-oh. Not what I was hoping for.
“I wish Amy was my new teenage girlfriend!”
“-- need to know what time you are picking me up for
the dance!” She snuggled up to me and began to
nuzzle my ear. “I’ve got this really HOT outfit that I can’t
wait to show off.” Then she kissed me.
Hours later (or at least it seemed like it), Amy broke off
the embrace, grabbed my hand and started leading me
down the hall -- her pleated skirt and pigtails swaying in
front of me.
“So, are you gonna show me around, or what? I start
classes here tomorrow and I don’t wanna get lost!”
Obviously, Amy now thought she was new to this
school. And, in a way, she was.
“I especially want to see --”