Out of all the desires you detect, a particularly sexual one catches your attention. You find it originates from a balding, pervert of a man. Costumed in typical business attire, his appearance is essentially unremarkable. Just his right, seated on a bench, you notice someone far more pleasing to the eye: a rather buxom brunette. She's clad in a surprisingly tight fitting tank-top, the low-cut leaving little of her plump D-cups covered. The man's desire is hardly surprising, considering the numerous glances he's stolen at her deep cleavage in the few moments you've been observing them.
At a glance, the man's desire to fondle this woman seems outright creepy, but you find it isn't as simple as that. Upon probing his mind further, you come to discover a humbler reason for his desire. The site of such an attractive woman awoke memories of his youth, of parties and cheap hook-ups. Though you sympathize with his nostalgia, you refuse the notion of having him fondle the beaut on the bench. No, the pervert needs to be punished, and you have just the punishment in mind.
With a symbolic snap of the fingers, you enact his wish. Well, your perversion of his wish, anyways. In an instant, the pervert simply disappears. Where he was standing, sprawled across the hard concrete of the sidewalk, is a D-cup sized leopard-styled bra. You worry that others may have seen the mans transformation and are relived as the only other person nearby is the girl herself. She's too distracted by the glow of her telephone to notice.
Taking advantage of her inattentiveness, you initiate the next part of the wish. The once-a-man bra eerily levitates upwards, floating like a plastic bag in a light wind. Upon leveling with her breasts, it realigns itself, properly positioning the cups. With everything now in order, the bra flies towards her chest at an insane speed, magically passing through her tank-top and collides with her breasts. The sheer force of the collision causes her breast flesh to jiggle wildly, which finally alarms the woman. Assuming some sort of balls has hit her, she looks around madly for the source, but is unable to find it. The bra takes the moment and firmly clasps itself shut. The resulting click alerts her to the odd pressure now pressing against her bosom. She pulls the fabric of the tank-top out and gazes down her shirt. A look of shock grows on her face as she realizes she's now wearing a bra.
"Um...I thought I wasn't wearing a bra...?" she mutters in some attempt to reassure her confused mind.
You feel like celebrating, though a newly detected desire grabs your attention. It's a wish, coming from the bra, that's almost screaming to return to normal. It seems the pervert has retained his mind, for now. Delving deeper within, you discover that all of his senses have been retained despite his new form. He can see the skin of her pale breasts and the tight tank-top pulled against him. He can hear the faint beating of her heart and the occasional passing car. He can smell the sweat and subtle perfume clung to her skin. He can taste (to his dismay) the small beads of sweat forming on her breasts. And most importantly of all, he can feel his tight embrace of her bosom, finally receiving the grope he'd been wishing for.
Ignoring his pleads to be returned to normal, you watch as the bus the girl was waiting for pulls up to the stop. More concerned with getting home than with her undergarments, she ignores the oddness of the situation and gets on. Though you were heading home, you consider following this chick some more. Her body seems to bring out the worst in people, and it'd be pretty entertaining to give others their just deserts. The seconds go on and you ultimately decide to...