*** Chapter found on CYOC ***
Janet woke up with a start. “Alan! Meg-” her hands flew to her mouth when she heard the voice that came out of it. ‘That’s right,’ she thought, ‘the witch...’ Janet’s stomach twisted into knots as she remembered the past twelve hours: the car breaking down, walking through the cold, dark woods, entering the strange, old house, and the witch’ curse. Looking down at her body she noticed that her chest was flat, the faded old robe she woke up in hung loosely from her broad shoulders, and her forearms were sinewy and her hands were broad and her fingers square. Worst of all, the moth-eaten sheets were standing in a tent at the meeting of her legs. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting!” her voice cracked.
She stared at the tent with disdain. She knew how these things worked and she had absolutely no interest in dealing with it. ‘Maybe if I leave it alone it’ll go away,’ she thought hopefully. But then she remembered the boys she’d fooled around with in high school, and how persistent their little problems had been. She shook those thoughts out of her head, she didn’t have time for this! She had to find her family. Janet stumbled out of bed, she was taller, and a lot lighter. She’d never imagined how much her breasts affected her center of gravity. A gust blew through the drafty windows and she felt a chill in her groin. She looked down and there, parting the faded robe as if it was a theater curtain, was her new friend. It was longer than she would’ve imagined, and a thick vein ran from its base up to its cut, pink head. “Oh god,” she groaned, sounding a lot whinier than she intended.
Janet tried her best to ignore it, but it was hard. It bounced in front of her as she walked around the room, and it seemed to get harder every time she tried to force it back under the robe it. “You best take care of that before coming to breakfast, young man.” Janet whipped around and tried her best to cover her raging teen erection. “You could poke someone’s eye out,” the old crone chuckled. Janet wanted to demand the witch to change her back. She wanted to tell the old hag off and to see her family restored. But she couldn’t. Her face burned red with embarrassment and could barely stutter out an apology. “Once you’ve calmed yourself down,” the witch started as she headed to the door, “get dressed and come down to breakfast, won’t you?” She gestured to the dresser where a set of clothes sat neatly folded on top. A set of clothes that hadn’t been there seconds ago.
Janet sat back down on the daybed by the window, but found that the cold morning light did little to warm her. It looked like this thing wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She wrapped her long, square fingers around the shaft and began tugging slowly. It was so strange doing this from this angle. Every stroke sent electricity up her spine. She began picking up speed, and the toes at the end of her now long, rectangular feet curled. The robe’s sash came undone and the robe opened. She could see her lean, toned torso. Where saggy breasts once hung, taut muscle now stood, firm and perky. The belly ravaged by stretch marks was now a set of tight washboard abs, with a light trail of hair that led to a bristly bush that surrounded her new organ. She could feel her strong muscles flex with every stroke, and she could feel her new balls bounce up and down. Unexpectedly, a string of white cum shot out onto her stomach and pleasure exploded within her body. Janet sat panting under the gray light, watching as her new dick shrunk into a soft, flaccid thing.
Feeling a lot better and a lot less awkward, she wiped off her mess with the towel from the steaming bowl she’d seen earlier. She stared at her reflection. A young man, stared back at her, he couldn’t have been much older than Alan was. His face was all angles, and his nose seemed too big for his face. The first hints of stubble were starting to dot his upper lip and cheeks. Once clean, Janet got dressed in the clothes the witch had laid out. It was a linen shirt, a pair of khaki pants, and suspenders. ‘Odd’, she thought, ‘these seem a little... outdated.’ She looked in the mirror again, she almost looked like something out of an Oliver Twist story or something like that. Janet slipped on the brown loafers at the foot of the dresser and headed out the door.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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