I decided I'd rather not wait any longer, i wanted her to be a Dinosaur now, but first, I thought through some wishes and sorted my bases so I'd be safe. First.
"I wish that Ms French will follow my every command without question."
"I wish that over the next hour, Ms French will transform into a Deinonychus, in the manner that I desire."
With that done, all I needed to do was sit back and watch events unfold. Even right now, at the start, I could see the tips of her fingers harden, and sharp talons begin to grow. Minutes later, the fingers were lengthening and merging into three fingered hands, the scales developing and spreading up the arms. I noted that she was shifting her feet uncomfortably at this point, I deduced that her feet were changing now.
"Ms French, remove your shoes."
"Yes Joseph." She responded flatly and kicked them free, I could see that a familiar sickle-claw was growing from her three-toes feet.
I took this moment to wish a hole in the back of the driver's seat, large enough for a tail, for when it grew out of her back.
Twenty minutes in and her hair had fallen out, the scales enveloping her entire body, with the face just beginning to push out into a snout. The sickle-claws had torn trough the stockings which were laddering on the scales. Her arms had thinned a bit, but the hands were almost complete. The breasts were sinking into her chest as it began to barrel out, but not stretching the shirt yet. Her new tail was sliding slowly out through the hole in the set you made.
Ten minutes later saw her teeth fall out as new, sharper ones took their place, while the barreling chest meant the buttons were pooping off under the strain. She was taller too, needing to lean forwards to avoid the roof. And beginning to hiss now.
After forty minutes, she was growing nicely, now needing the seat all the way back and leaning forwards. Her face was complete, filled with razor sharp teeth. The shirt had torn down the back and hung loosely on the arms, while the skirt had snapped on the front leaving the waist area exposed. The stockings, too, had torn and webbed their way around her new digitigrade legs.
After the hour had passed, I had needed to wish the seat further back so Ms French could keep driving, though she was still doing a good job. The clothing that had torn loose, I picked up and tossed to the side. I then touched her scales, very rough, almost like sandpaper, and brimming with raw, feral power, which I controlled.
I looked at her face, one filled with power, and lust and decided that...