Your hot young bossy teacher is definitely a softdom. She has all the boys in your algebra class eating out of her manicured hands and all the dads wrapped round her little finger.
Wouldn't it feel good to become her. To have that power and feel that confidence?
You want to be her so badly don't you loser?
Maybe you should sit in her chair and see what happens?
Mommy is about to get a new perspective on life and Daddy is about to get his reward for giving her those glasses. It's been years since he's had a blowjob from an eighteen year old bitch...
Joe found the spell on a forum that shouldn't have existed.
Body Possession Ritual — Full Immersion. Target must be known to you. Light a pink candle. Speak the words. Close your eyes. You will inhabit their form for two hours. ONE RULE: Do not orgasm. Each climax erases a layer of your original memories. You have been warned.
The target was obvious.
Pixie. Twenty years old. Pink hair cascading in waves past her jawline, baby blues lined with thick lashes, lips permanently pouted and glossy. Her OnlyFans had twelve thousand subscribers. Her body was impossible — heavy round tits that defied gravity, a tiny cinched waist, and an ass like two ripe peaches stuffed into thigh-high socks. She was the e-girl of his dreams. The girl he'd spent — God — probably a thousand hours watching, tipping, jerking off to in the dark of his bedroom.
Two hours before her boyfriend got home to film content.
Two hours inside her.
Joe lit the candle. Spoke the words. Closed his eyes.
And fell.
---
Mmmmmh…
The first thing he felt was the weight on his chest.
Heavy. Warm. Two perfect orbs pressing against the fabric of — what was this? A tiny pink crop top. No bra. He could feel his nipples — her nipples — stiffening against the cotton, fat and sensitive, sending little sparks down through his stomach.
He opened her eyes.
Pink walls. LED strips. A ring light on a stand. A bed covered in plushies and pink satin sheets. A mirror on the wardrobe door.
And in the mirror — Pixie.
"Oh fuck…" The voice came out of her throat — high, breathy, a little bratty. Her voice. His lips moved and she moved. Pink hair swayed. Those big blue eyes blinked.
Joe raised her small, manicured hand. Acrylic nails painted pink with little rhinestones. He watched her hand rise in the mirror and his cock — wait. No cock. Nothing there. Just a smooth, warm, wet little slit nestled between soft thighs.
He cupped her tits through the crop top. The sensation was electric — a deep, heavy ache that pulsed straight down between his — her — legs. He squeezed. Soft. Impossibly soft. And heavy. He could feel the weight of them pulling at her chest, the way they sat high and round and perfect.
"Don't…" he whispered to himself. "Don't get carried away. Two hours. Don't cum. That's the rule. Just… explore. Be careful."
He pulled the crop top over her head.
Her tits bounced free — big, round, pink-nippled, with a subtle undercurve that made them look engineered. He hefted one in her small hand. The nipple was fat and puffy and so sensitive. Just brushing it with his thumb made her pussy clench.
Oooooh… that's… that's really sensitive…
He pinched. A little moan slipped out of her mouth. Her thighs pressed together.
Stop it. Don't play with them too much. You know the rules.
But they felt so good. Heavy and warm and his — hers — and he'd spent so long imagining what they'd feel like and now they were right there in her hands.
He padded across the room in her bare feet — tiny feet, painted toenails — and looked at himself — herself — in the full-length mirror.
She was wearing a tiny pink pleated skirt that barely covered her ass. Beneath it: a pink thong, the string disappearing between the most perfect, round, juicy ass cheeks he'd ever seen. He turned. Looked over her shoulder at the mirror. The skirt rode up and there it was — her ass — plump and taut and begging to be grabbed.
God, she's even more perfect from this angle…
He bent over slightly. The skirt rode up further. He could see the thong stretched tight over her pussy — smooth, waxed, a tiny camel toe.
His — her — mouth watered.
Don't.
---
Twenty minutes in. He'd managed to limit himself to looking.
He sat on her bed, surrounded by plushies, scrolling through her phone. Messages from subs. A DM from her boyfriend — Tyler 💕: be home in 2 hrs babe. gonna film that anal scene u promised. got the new plug.
Anal scene.
Joe stared at the message. His stomach did something strange. A hot little flutter.
She does anal. On camera. For thousands of people.
He looked at the bedside table. Opened the drawer.
Lube. A pink jewelled butt plug. A string of anal beads — pink, graduated, the last one thick. A vibrator. Several dildos.
He picked up the butt plug. It was heavier than he expected. The jewel on the end was pink. The shaft was slim but present.
I could… try it. Just to see what it feels like. It's not my pussy. It's my ass. The rule is don't cum. Anal isn't going to make me cum. That's not how that works.
He was already rationalising.
He lubed the plug. Pulled the thong aside. Found her asshole — tight, wrinkled, warm — and pressed the tip against it.
"Ohhhhh…" Her voice. High and breathy. Her toes curled.
It slipped in. Slowly. The stretch was intense — a deep, filling pressure that made her pussy throb. The plug slid home with a soft click and the jewel nestled against her cheeks.
Fuck. That felt… that felt really, really good. A constant low hum of pressure right against something inside — something that made her pussy drip.
Okay. That's fine. That's just… anal. That's just what anal feels like. It's not going to make me cum. It's fine.
He pulled the beads out. Lubed them. Pressed the first one against her already-stretched rim.
It popped in. Then the second. Bigger. Her breath hitched. Then the third — oh God — and her pussy was clenching around nothing, dripping onto the pink sheets, and the pressure was building somewhere deep inside, something he'd never felt before, a tight hot coil right behind the plug—
The fourth bead. Thick. Her back arched. Her tits pressed into the mattress. Her ass was stuffed and the pressure was right there, right on that spot, and her pussy was spasming—
"Oh fuck — oh fuck — what is—"
The fifth bead. The biggest. It popped in and her whole body seized.
"FUCK—!"
And Pixie came.
Not from her pussy. From her ass. A deep, rolling, devastating anal orgasm that made her thighs shake and her toes curl and her pussy gush clear fluid onto the sheets. Her asshole clamped down on the beads and the plug and the pleasure radiated out in waves — up her spine, down her thighs, through her clit — and she screamed into a plushie.
When it passed, Joe lay there. Panting. Drooling. Her ass still stuffed. Her pussy still twitching.
And something was… missing.
What was I… what was the rule? There was a rule. Something about…
It was there. Faint. Like a word on the tip of his tongue.
Don't cum.
But he'd already cum. And the memory of why was already fading.
---
He pulled the beads out. One by one. Each one made her pussy flutter. Each pop made her whimper.
That felt… that felt so good. I should… I should try the pussy. Just to see. Just to feel what it's like.
He reached for the vibrator.
No. Something in the back of her mind. Faint. Don't.
But the voice was so quiet now. And her pussy was so wet. And the plug was still in her ass, humming with pressure, and she just needed—
She pressed the vibrator to her clit.
"Ooooooh FUUUCK—"
Within thirty seconds she was cumming again. Harder this time. Her pussy gushed. Her tits heaved. Her back arched off the bed. And another layer of Joe dissolved like sugar in hot water.
What was… my name is… I'm…
Pixie.
She was Pixie.
She rolled onto her back. Spread her thighs. Looked at herself in the mirror across the room — pink hair fanned across the pillows, big tits swaying, thighs shaking, pussy dripping.
God, I'm so hot.
She grabbed the biggest dildo from the drawer. Eight inches. Thick. Pink.
And she fucked herself with it.
Long, slow, deliberate strokes. Watching herself in the mirror. Watching her pussy stretch around it. Watching her tits bounce. Moaning in her voice — high and bratty and slutty — and cumming again and again and each time something else dissolved and it felt less important and more right and she was Pixie, she was always Pixie, she was a hot horny slut who loved cumming and—
"FUCK YES—!"
Another orgasm. Her pussy squeezed the dildo. Her eyes rolled back. The last thread of Joe — some vague sense that he'd come from somewhere, that he'd been someone else — frayed.
Who… who was I before? Was I… someone?
The thought drifted away like smoke.
---
An hour and fifty minutes.
Pixie lay on the bed. Drenched in sweat and cum. The plug still in her ass. The dildo still in her pussy. Her thighs streaked with her own juices. Her eyes were half-lidded. Her mouth was open. Drool on the pillow.
…so good… more… need more…
She heard the front door open.
"Babe? I'm home."
Tyler.
Her boyfriend. Big. Muscled. Tattooed. And — she remembered, somehow, with a hot thrill — huge.
She heard his footsteps. The bedroom door opened.
And there he was. Six-two. Broad shoulders. Black t-shirt stretched across his chest. And when he saw her — spread out on the bed, plug in her ass, dildo in her pussy, drooling and desperate — he grinned.
"Started without me, slut?"
Pixie moaned.
Oh God… he's so… he's so big…
He pulled off his shirt. Unbuckled his jeans. And his cock sprung free — thick, long, veiny — and Pixie's pussy clenched around the dildo at the sight of it.
That's… that's the biggest cock I've ever… I need it… I need it now!
"Tyler…" she whimpered. "Please…"
He pulled the dildo out. Pulled the plug out. And replaced them with his cock — first in her pussy, deep, stretching her wider than the dildo, and Pixie screamed.
"That's it, baby. Take it."
He fucked her. Hard. The bed shook. The plushies fell off. Her tits bounced with every thrust and she was cumming — over and over — and each thrust drove something out of her mind, some last stubborn fragment of a person who'd been someone else, a loser, a nobody, a boy in a dark room—
And each orgasm erased it.
Until there was nothing left but Pixie.
A drooling, cumming, empty slut with a big cock in her pussy and her eyes rolled back and her tongue out and nothing behind it but pleasure.
Tyler flipped her over. Spread her ass. Pushed into her asshole.
"Time to film, babe."
Pixie just moaned.
---
The Next Day
Pixie sat in her pink room. Hair in pigtails. Makeup perfect. Sipping an iced coffee.
Tyler was editing last night's video. The anal scene was going to do numbers.
She scrolled her phone. Twitter. News.
LOCAL: Man, 24, Found Unresponsive in Bedroom.
She tapped it.
Police discovered a 24-year-old man in his apartment yesterday evening, unresponsive and uncommunicative. Paramedics reported that the individual appeared to be in a catatonic state, staring at the ceiling and unresponsive to stimuli. A pink candle was found burning on his desk. Authorities are investigating but suspect no foul play. The man's identity has not been released. A neighbour described him as "quiet, kept to himself, always on his computer."
Pixie sipped her coffee.
"That's sad," she said.
She scrolled past.
"Tyler, baby — when's that video going up? My subs are begging."
The world was full of sad lonely boys, but Pixie… Pixie was a princess and her life was amazing.
Maya needed a car for college. Well really she needed it to get her band to gigs in the city. They weren’t big, often only amassing crowds in the single digits, but she loved her band ‘The Goth Girls’. Just her and her two best friends Thalia and Selene. But lugging their equipment around on public transport had become too much to handle and Maya decided it was time to buy some wheels.
Although as she stood in front of the one car she found that she could afford on the little money they had made from gigging, suddenly public transport wasn’t looking so bad.
It was a used purple convertible with the license plate B1TCH. It looked like the kind of car some blonde bimbo would have had in the 90’s. Even the interior was purple. The color and plate clashed with her goth style of black clothes and dark makeup but the price was right and the engine ran well enough. So with a lot of hesitation she bought it on the spot.
She had no time to waste after all because she had to pick up her bandmates in fifteen minutes. She slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine roared to life. A strange tingle immediately spread through her body. Her skin felt warm and electric.
“Oh… what the heck is that?” Maya gasped as the sensation grew stronger. Her waist began to pull in tighter. She groaned loudly pressing her hands to her stomach. “No… stop… this isn’t right!” But even as she spoke the words her body betrayed her with a soft moan that escaped her lips. The pleasure was only increasing but it wasn’t the only thing growing.
Her bust swelled larger, creating full heavy curves that strained against her black loose fitting top. “Ahhh… fuck it feels so good but I shouldn’t give in…” She tried to fight it gripping the steering wheel but her back arched on its own pushing her chest forward.
That’s when she heard a sultry voice in her head. “But why not? Give in to me and you’ll realize how much better it is. Just give me another rev, you know you want to.”
Despite herself, Maya couldn’t help be intrigued and increasingly turned on by what was happening. Her foot pressed down slowly on the accelerator. Her lips grew plumper and softer. Her hair shifted from its usual messy dark waves to long silky locks that fell perfectly down her back. Long oval nails extended from her fingers with a glossy shine. Even her eyes turned from her dull brown to crystal blue.
Maya groaned again deeper this time her voice growing huskier. “Mmm… fuck make it stop… no! Keep going! Oh shit what’s happening to me?!” The pleasure mixed with the changes made her squirm in the seat. She could feel her old self slipping away yet part of her wanted more.
“Soon you’ll be like all my other owners, hot, horny, and desperate for cock. You’re going to love becoming a cum dumpster. They always do.” The voice purred and Maya let out an uncharacteristic giggle as her hair started to turn blonde, her nails turning pink.
“Please… no! I’m supposed to be a goth… this is turning me into some kind of dumb whore…” Maya whimpered even as she moaned louder her hands roaming over her expanding chest. “But god it feels incredible… don’t stop… make my tits bigger… yeah just like that… fuck yes.” Her clothes transformed too.
Her top shrinking into a tight pink tube top that barely contained her new tits. Her black jeans morphing into a white mini skirt which shower off her gorgeous long legs. White knee high socks and tall stilettos finished off her look, making her look like the perfect bimbo babe. Her many tattoos started to disappear one by one.
Her mind changed along with her body. Thoughts of kindness and empathy faded. In their place came sharp focus on herself. Vanity took over as she admired how hot she looked. Selfishness and narcissism filled her head.
She pictured herself as the slut the car wanted to make her into, imagining herself as a groupie blowing drummers in green rooms and fucking singers after the shows. She knew she had the perfect pussy that would drive them wild.
“You’re my best creation yet. You’re going to be the hottest, tightest, bimbo ever. You’re going to be the perfect little slut for lead singers to cum in. Forget about your band, you’re mine now.” The car added.
However the words that should have made this new Maya wet with joy was instead making the old Maya fight back.
“No… wait… not just some groupie bitch…” Maya moaned breathlessly her voice thick with lust. “Fuck that… I’m not some band’s plaything… I should the one worshipped… the one who’s the star… I fuck the groupies, not the other way around… yeah… I want it all.”
A shear black lace long sleeved top materialized on her and the pink tube top melted away and reformed into black lace trimmed bra that pushed up her enhanced chest and showed plenty of cleavage. The mini shirt stayed mini but it turned plaid, with darker tones. She now wore black thigh high stockings with lace tops and shiny black platform boots. The new outfit hugged every curve of her transformed figure perfectly.
“No! This isn’t possible! I make the changes here, not you!” The car said frantically. Maya could feel it trying to assert control over her but something was helping her. Something Maya had no idea was helping her but could feel tingling at her lower back. A tattoo she had recently gotten with her friends, a cool archaic design she had picked out from a book. A tattoo that the car couldn’t erase, a symbol that protected Maya.
“You don’t make the rules! I own you now, and I say what I’m going to be!” Maya groaned as her hair darkened quickly, turning black as the night and smokey makeup curved around her eyes.
She imagined herself no longer backstage at a concert on her knees but instead on stage itself under the lights, her new body on full display as she belted out dark seductive lyrics. Fans screamed for her. Backstage she was being worshipped, not doing the worshipping and she got everything she craved.
“Give me the booze… the drugs… lines of coke and bottles of whiskey… and all the sex I can handle… because I want a lot… so fucking much.” She saw herself surrounded by eager bandmates and groupies taking what she wanted. Getting her perfect pussy eaten by some hot opening act before a show. Passing around whatever cock or pussy caught her eye because she was the queen who deserved it all. The car wasn’t happy.
“No! Stop you goth bitch! I’ve turned every kind of girl into a wanton dumb whore and now it’s your turn! It’s your destiny!” It screamed but Maya just smirked, her tattoo pulsing pleasurably.
“Shut the fuck up. You serve me! You will change girls into whoever I want them to be! And I love evil goth sluts now! I should thank you for making me release my inner bitch but instead I think it’s time the tables were turned on you.” Maya said with a cackle and revved the engine harder and faster, smoke wrapping around the exterior.
The black smoke clung to the body of the car, infecting the purple paint, turning it darker by the second until it was as black as Maya’s hair. Even the seating changed to match. Inside Maya’s hands gripped the steering wheel, her eyes flicking closed as immense pleasure flowed through her as she felt the car cede control to her unwillingly.
“No! This can’t be happening! You’re just some random goth loser! This can’t be-” It said but was cut off the moment it fully became Maya’s, the moment Maya became something more.
Maya’s eyes opened lazily, her blue bimbo eyes gone, replaced with the same hue of purple the car used to be. Maya could feel every inch of the car now, every bolt, every nut. It was more than just a car now, it was an extension of her body, of her power.
Now transformed she smirked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She stretched her arms up high arching her back to show off her new figure letting out one final satisfied groan. “Fuck yes… this is what I needed all along.” The old Maya was gone. This new woman felt amazing. She revved the engine with only her mind, driving through the streets with wild abandon.
She cruised through the quiet campus streets, her convertible purring beneath her. Turning a corner she saw them, her friends, waiting for her, not knowing their lives were about to change forever.
Selene and Thalia were sitting outside their dorm, dressed in the same nerdy goth gear they always wore. Pale skin hidden under baggy black hoodies and long skirts heavy eyeliner and awkward shy vibes.
Maya pulled up to them and honked the horn. The two girls looked at the car unsure why it was seemingly waiting for them. As they approached they somehow recognized the driver.
“Holy crap what happened to you?” Selene blurted out her eyes wide as she stared at Maya’s massive cleavage and tiny skirt. “You look like… like a goth porn star honestly.”
Maya laughed, throwing her hair back. “Thanks babe, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Thalia stepped back a little clutching her bag. “Maya? No way. Did you get some kind of makeover?”
Maya laughed again with a low throaty sound and leaned over the door of the convertible. “Get in bitches. This car drives like a dream. Trust me you’ll love it.” Her voice dripped with new confidence and a hint of command.
“Come on you pussies!” Maya purred revving the engine just a little to tease them. “We have a gigs to get to. Hop in or walk.”
Reluctantly Selene slid into the passenger seat while Thalia climbed into the back. The moment their doors shut Maya floored the gas pedal. The engine roared louder this time sending fresh waves of that familiar tingle through the air.
“Oh, mmmm fuck this feels even better being the one in control.” Maya moaned happily gripping the wheel.
Selene gasped first her hands flying to her chest as the tingle hit her. “What the… ahhh… my body… it feels so strange… stop the car Maya!” But even as she protested her waist cinched in and her bust began to swell pushing against her baggy sweater. She groaned deeply her voice cracking. “No… this is wrong… mmm… but it fuck feels so good…”
Thalia squirmed in the back seat her eyes fluttering. “God… my skin is burning… I feel… hotter… fuck what is happening to my lips?” Her mouth plumped up as her hair straightened and grew into a high blood red ponytail. Long oval nails grew from her fingertips. “Maya… turn it off… I’m not supposed to look this… ohhh fucking hot! God don’t stop…”
Maya smirked glancing at them in the mirror. “That’s it girls. Let the car work its magic. Feel those tits getting bigger? Just like mine. We’re going to be the hottest fucking band around.”
Selene moaned louder her clothes already shifting into something tight and leathery, revealing just enough. “I… we should fight this… but my pussy feels so empty and needy… make me sexier… fuck yes… bigger tits… tighter waist… give me these fat lips for sucking off some random crowd member after the show…” Her mind warped quickly just as Maya’s had. Thoughts of quiet empathy dissolved into selfish cravings for the spotlight and endless pleasure.
Thalia arched her back with a filthy groan her new body on display as the transformation accelerated. Her outfit reformed into a tiny black lace teddy that barely reached her hips. But her legs weren’t bare, instead they gained thigh high stockings and heels. “Give me the curves… make me a goth bitch who needs cock and drugs every night… I want to be the one getting worshipped by fans after the show… don’t hold back! Ohhh yes… my clit is throbbing… turn me into a sex hungry whore!”
The black convertible sped down the road filled with the sounds of their eager moans and dirty pleas as all three embraced their new rockstar selves. Selene rubbed her hands over her enhanced breasts panting heavily. “Fuck… I want to be up on stage shaking my ass now! I want to be snorting lines off some guy’s dick before we play… then letting the whole supporting band rail me in the green room… this feels too good to stop.”
Thalia leaned forward from the back her voice husky and broken by gasps. “Yes… make my pussy the wettest fucking thing at every gig… I need to be the nastiest slut who gets all the booze and cock. Fuck I’m so horny already thinking about riding faces backstage while high off my mind.”
Maya laughed loudly her own body still buzzing from the power of the car. “That’s my girls. We’re going to be fucking infamous, no longer the Goth Girls, we’re the Goth Goddesses now! We take what we want… all the drugs… all the fucks… and we look like bad bitches doing it. The crowd is going to worship us.” She revved the engine again sending another pleasurable wave through them as they drove toward their first real gig with filthy promises on their lips and wicked smiles on their faces. The old versions of themselves were completely erased leaving only three hedonistic rockstars ready to conquer the night.
Kate Morrison was the kind of woman who baked casseroles for new neighbours and meant it. Forty-five, soft around the edges, with warm brown eyes and a gentle smile that made everyone feel welcome. Her husband Richard was a broad-shouldered, confident man—successful in business, supportive at home. Their son Riley, nineteen and home from college for the summer, had his father's easy charm and his mother's kind heart.
They were, by any measure, a good family.
So when Kate found a strange app on her phone—pink sparkles and a logo that looked like a manicured nail tapping a crystal ball—she almost laughed. Gen-Z Genie. What the fuck was this? The icon pulsed like a heartbeat.
She tapped it cautiously.
The screen exploded with pink smoke and glitter, and suddenly there she was—sprawled across Kate's kitchen island like she owned it. Lexi. Platinum pigtails. Crop top reading BRAT. Eyes the colour of bubblegum, sharp as glass.
"Omg, hiiii!" Lexi waved, her long nails catching the light. "I'm Lexi, your totally fab Gen-Z Genie! You get one wish, babe. Rules are: no take-backs, and you can't wish for more wishes. Duh."
Kate stared. The app felt... warm in her hand. Inviting. Like a door cracking open to somewhere tempting.
"Come on bitch, haven't you ever like seen a genie story before. This is your chance to fulfil your hearts desire. You could have anything you want. Ummm like money, power... sex. Come on bitch, let me juice you up," purred Lexi.
But Kate Morrison was content.
"No thank you," she said softly.
Lexi gaped. She blew a wet bubble and it hung from her astonished lips. She'd never ever been refused before. Mortals always wanted to wish for something.
"Ummm, did you hear me right bitch? I said you can like wish for..."
Kate tapped at her screen and she deleted the app. She didn't know if she was going mad or if this was real, but she was happy with her life and she wanted nothing to do with this.
Lexi's shriek echoed as she vanished along with the app—"Fucking hag! You'll regret this, you basic bitch! I'll be back!"—and then silence.
Kate put her phone down and went to finish dinner. She felt like she'd had a lucky escape and decided not to tell anyone about this.
Maybe she was just losing her mind?
---
It started small. A few days after the incident with the genie.
Kate caught her reflection in the microwave door and flinched. When had the lines around her eyes gotten so deep? She leaned closer, pulling at the skin near her temples—there, the faint web of crow's feet. Had those been there yesterday?
She touched her cheek—soft, yes, but... soft the wrong way. Doughy. Tired. The kind of skin that looked like it had given up.
She felt tired. All the time.
The mirror in the bathroom seemed harsher the next morning. The grey at her roots more obvious—when had that spread? The skin on her hands—when had she started looking like her mother? Like her grandmother?
You're being silly, Kate. You're forty-five. This is normal.
But the thought didn't comfort her like it should have. The reassurance felt hollow, like words spoken to a child who knows the monster is real.
By Wednesday, she was staring at other women in the supermarket—younger women, women with smooth skin and bright eyes and that effortless energy—and feeling something ugly twist in her chest. A girl in the produce section, maybe twenty-two, was wearing a crop top and low-rise jeans. Her stomach was flat and tanned. Her skin glowed. She laughed at something on her phone, and the sound was like a bell.
Kate looked down at her own outfit—sensible beige cardigan, mom jeans—and felt something shrivel inside her.
By Friday, she felt grey. Faded. Like a photograph left in the sun too long. She caught Richard looking at her across the dinner table and wondered if he saw it too—the ageing, the fading, the slow decay of the woman he'd married.
He smiled at her, warm and loving, and she wanted to scream.
She didn't connect it to the app. How could she? The app was gone. Deleted. Just a strange dream.
But in the back of her mind, something whispered: You could have been young again. Maybe next time you won't be so hasty...
---
The app reinstalled itself.
Kate was reading in bed when her phone buzzed and there it was again—pink sparkles, pulsing heartbeat. She hadn't downloaded anything. She hadn't even been in the app store.
She should have thrown the phone across the room.
Instead, she opened it.
Lexi materialised with a smug grin, legs crossed, floating on a pink cloud of glitter. "Miss me, grandma?"
"How did you—"
"So here's the thing, babe." Lexi examined her nails—long, pink, immaculate. "Nobody—nobody—rejects Lexi. Like, ever. So I've been thinking about you. A lot." She leaned forward, eyes glittering with something sharp and hungry. "Maybe you just need the right incentive to use me. So how about this? Unlimited wishes. One a day. And reverse wishes too—if you don't like something, you can undo it. I'll even make sure nobody questions the changes. Reality can bend, babe. Nobody will think twice."
Kate's throat was dry. "Why would you—"
"Because I'm generous." Lexi's smile was a razor blade wrapped in cotton candy. "And because you need me, Kate. I can see it. You're tired. You're old. You're fading." She whispered the last word like a kiss. "Don't you want to feel alive again?"
I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm...
Kate looked at her hands. At the veins, blue and raised. At the wedding ring that seemed to sit looser than it used to, her knuckles swollen with age. At the liver spots she'd never noticed before.
"Okay. I didn't think I wanted anything, but I guess if I can undo things it should be safe. I have been feeling my age a bit recently. Maybe you could help? I wish..." She swallowed. "I wish I was young again."
Lexi's laugh was a delighted squeal. "OH EM GEE, yes! Wish granted, babe!"
Pink light exploded from the phone and Kate was engulfed...
Kate gasped as heat flooded her body—not painful, but intense, like stepping into a hot bath after years in the cold. Her skin tightened, smoothed, the wrinkles melting away like frost under morning sun. The ache in her lower back vanished. Her joints popped and resettled, bones shifting with soft clicks that echoed through her skeleton. Her spine straightened. Her knees unswelled.
She stumbled to the bedroom mirror and gasped.
An eighteen-year-old girl stared back at her. Brown hair, yes—still hers—but lush and thick, falling past her shoulders in waves that caught the light. Smooth, unlined skin that practically glowed with youth. A body that hadn't known childbirth or gravity's slow pull—perky little breasts under her oversized nightgown, the nipples visible through the thin fabric. Long legs that seemed to go on forever. Wide eyes that looked shocked.
Her face was heart-shaped, pretty in a girl-next-door way. No wrinkles. No age spots. No tiredness.
"Oh my God," Kate whispered, and her voice was higher, clearer, untouched by decades of worry. "This isn't—I meant—"
She'd meant her thirties. Maybe late twenties. A little boost, a little refresh. Not eighteen.
You can wish yourself back tomorrow. Just... calm down. Breathe. Besides this isn't so bad.
Her heart was racing, and not just from shock. She looked good. Young and fresh and full of energy she'd forgotten existed. She bounced on her toes experimentally and felt the spring in her step, the vitality that had been draining away for years.
Wow, I do look good. I'd forgotten how good it feels to be young.
She spent the rest of the night trying clothes on and enjoying how much better they looked now she was young. Then again, they were a little... boring. Maybe she could do better?
Richard came to bed an hour later, and he didn't blink. Just smiled at his wife—the same way he always had—and rolled over to sleep. It was like he didn't even question the 30 year age gap between them. The genie was as good as her word.
Kate lay awake, vibrating with something she hadn't felt in years.
She felt restless, she felt horny. With a moan she slid her fingers between her legs and with Richard snoring next to her... she began to finger herself.
---
The next morning, Kate decided she might as well enjoy it. Just for a day. She'd wish herself back to normal tomorrow.
She took a long shower, marvelling at her tight, responsive body. The way the water sluiced down smooth skin that didn't sag or wrinkle. The way her nipples hardened at the slightest touch—pink and pebbled and sensitive. The way her pussy—shaved, somehow, though she hadn't done it—throbbed under the spray, warm water hitting her clit and making her gasp.
She leaned against the tile and let the showerhead do its work, the pulsing spray sending little shocks of pleasure through her core. Her young body was so responsive. Every nerve ending seemed to sing.
She got out, toweled off, and caught her reflection again.
Still eighteen. Still plain, though. Mousy brown hair. Average figure. The kind of girl who blended into the background at parties. The kind of girl guys looked past to get to the hot friend.
Richard found her in the kitchen, making breakfast. He kissed her cheek—her young cheek—and didn't notice a thing. Riley came downstairs, grabbed toast, said "Hey Mom," and left to meet Joe, his best friend.
Normal. Everything was normal.
Except Kate kept catching glimpses of herself in reflective surfaces and feeling that twist again.
Plain. Boring. Invisible.
She spent the day shopping. No one looked at her twice, it was almost disappointing. She had expected some male attention but soon realised that by modern beauty standards she was just kind of boring. Out at the mall she couldn't help but feel jealous of the bougie young bitches with their perfect gym toned bodies and ultra feminine outfits. They were the ones the guys wanted.
She wondered what it would feel like to be one of them?
That night, Richard reached for her in bed, and Kate flinched.
He was... old. Forty-seven and handsome, yes, but old. His chest was hairy and starting to go grey. His skin was weathered, rough. The lines around his eyes were deep. She felt nothing looking at him. Less than nothing—a vague distaste, like finding a hair in your food.
"I'm tired," she murmured, and rolled away.
Instead, she waited until he was asleep—until his soft snores filled the room—and touched herself.
Her young body responded like a struck match. Wet almost instantly—soaked, actually, her pussy dripping with arousal the moment her fingers found her slit. Sensitive in ways she'd forgotten. Her clit was swollen, eager, and she rubbed it in tight circles, biting her lip to keep from moaning.
She came twice, biting her pillow, her hips bucking against her own hand. Her orgasms were sharp and intense, nothing like the muted pleasure she'd experienced in her forties. Her whole body shook. Her pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled.
Afterward, lying in the dark, her fingers still wet with her own juices, she thought: I should wish myself back tomorrow.
Things had already gone too far...
---
The app was waiting the next morning. Lexi's face appeared before Kate even opened it.
"So? Loving the new you, right?"
"Yeah, it's amazing to be young again, but... I look kinda plain." Kate hated the whine in her voice, but she couldn't stop it. "I guess I should be happy with what I have though."
"Why be happy? You have me... you can be anything you want to be," Lexi grinned. "You've got another wish. Use it. You know you want to."
Kate thought about the girls she'd seen at the mall. The ones with glossy hair and perfect makeup and bodies that made heads turn. The ones who walked into a room and owned it. The ones who mattered. It might be fun to see how that felt. She could always reverse it after all. Where was the harm.
"I wish I was prettier and more attractive. I wish I looked better than other girls. I wish I was... stunning."
Lexi's eyes lit up with a predatory gleam. "Now that's a wish. Granted!" She snapped her fingers and the room exploded with energy.
The pink light hit Kate and she moaned.
Kate's breasts swelled—oh fuck—from modest B-cups to firm, round D-cups that strained against her pyjama top, the fabric stretching to contain them. They were perfect—high and round and fake-looking, the kind of tits that made men stupid. Her nipples were pink and prominent, pressing against the thin cotton.
Her ass lifted and rounded, becoming a perfect heart shape that would look incredible in tight jeans. The kind of ass that bounced when she walked. The kind of ass that made other girls jealous.
Her waist nipped in dramatically, creating an hourglass figure that was almost obscene. Her hips flared. Her thighs became smooth and toned, with just the right amount of curve.
Her hair lightened, platinum blonde spreading from the roots until she was a golden goddess—glossy, thick, impossibly shiny. Her lips plumped, becoming soft and pink and kissable, the kind of lips that looked made for sucking cock. Her eyes shifted to a vivid, sexy blue—bright and cruel and knowing. Her cheekbones sharpened. Her jawline refined. Every flaw vanished.
She looked in the mirror and saw a wet dream.
"Oh my God," she breathed, and her new voice was higher, breathier, designed for moaning. She sounded like a porn star. She looked like a porn star.
Her body was a sex machine. Built for fucking. Every curve an invitation. Every feature designed to attract and arouse.
She cupped her new tits, feeling their weight, and her pussy throbbed. They were so sensitive. She pinched her nipples and a jolt of pure pleasure shot through her, making her gasp.
Fuck this feels amazing.
She spent the rest of the day shopping and buying new clothes. Now she was drowning in male attention. She felt their hungry stares and she felt... aroused. Proud and turned on that they wanted her. THIS was more like it.
That night Richard tried to kiss her and she moved away. The thought of him touching her perfect new body was just too fucking gross. She insisted he sleep in the other room.
She came three times that night, her new tits bouncing as she rode her fingers, her tight pussy clenching around nothing. She looked at herself in the mirror as she came—watching this gorgeous creature writhe and moan—and barely recognised the slut staring back.
Richard was asleep in the other room, Riley was next door. They could probably hear her moaning and gasping like a slut.
She didn't care.
---
Joe came over the next afternoon to study with Riley.
He was twenty. Tall. Athletic. The kind of guy Kate would have scolded Riley for bringing home late when she was... before. Sandy hair, blue eyes, shoulders that filled out his t-shirt.
Now, watching him from the kitchen doorway—her tight jeans hugging her new ass, her low-cut top showing off those perfect tits—she felt something different. Something hungry.
Joe looked at her. Really looked. His eyes traveled from her face down to her chest, lingering on the deep cleavage, then lower to her tight stomach and the swell of her hips.
"Mrs. Morrison, you look... different."
"Call me Kate." She smiled, and her new lips curved perfectly. "I feel different. Better. Maybe you and I should talk. Riley, will you do Mommy a favour? I ate all the ice cream. Would you nip to the store and get more?"
Riley left and Kate was alone with Joe.
It took only a few seconds to seduce him.
She pressed herself against him—her firm tits against his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken, her hand finding the hardening bulge in his jeans—and kissed him with her soft new mouth. Her lips were incredible—plush and warm and skilled, somehow, like her body knew exactly what to do.
"Mrs. Morrison—Kate—what are you—"
"Shut up," she whispered, and sank to her knees.
She pulled his cock free and it was beautiful. Young and hard and thick, jutting out from his jeans, already leaking precum. She took him in her mouth and sucked like she'd been born for it, her plump lips sealing around his shaft, her blue eyes looking up at him with a look of pure worship.
Her mouth was made for this. Her tongue swirled around the head, teasing the sensitive underside. She took him deep, relaxing her throat, feeling him hit the back of her mouth. She bobbed her head, establishing a rhythm, her new tits swaying with the motion.
Joe groaned, his hands fisting in her platinum hair. "Holy shit, Kate—"
He came down her throat in three minutes flat, and she swallowed every drop, her throat working around his cock.
They fucked on the kitchen counter —her legs wrapped around his waist, her skirt hiked up around her hips, her thong pulled to the side. His strong young cock buried in her tight new pussy, stretching her open, filling her completely.
She was so wet. Dripping. Her pussy gripped him like a vice, the muscles clenching and releasing as he thrust into her. Her moans echoed through the empty house—high, breathy, desperate.
"Oh fuck—yes—harder—deeper—"
Her new tits bounced with every thrust, and she watched them in the reflection of the microwave door, mesmerized by her own body. By how good she looked getting fucked.
It was amazing.
Better than Richard had ever been. Better than anything she could remember. Her pussy was so tight, so sensitive, every stroke sending waves of pleasure through her body.
And the cheating—the secret, the wrongness of it—made her cum even harder. She was fucking her son's best friend on the kitchen counter where she'd made breakfast that morning. Where she'd packed Riley's lunch. Where she'd kissed Richard goodbye.
"Same time tomorrow?" Joe panted, zipping up.
Kate licked her lips, tasting his cum. "Fuck yeah, how about every day baby...?"
It was the start of something beautiful...
---
Joe wanted to take her out. A double date—him and Kate, his friend Sam and Sam's girlfriend Ashley.
Kate looked at herself in the mirror. Stunning, yes. But she still talked like a middle-aged woman. She still thought like one. Her vocabulary was wrong. Her references were outdated. Ashley would see through her in seconds—some Gen-Z girl with the vocabulary of a PTA mom.
The app buzzed.
"Having fun, babe?" Lexi's smirk was knowing.
"I love that I look hot now, but I need to know more. If I'm going to hang out with these eighteen year olds I need to fit in. I need to—"
"Say it."
Kate swallowed. "I wish I knew more about Gen-Z culture. Fashion. Slang. I wish I could become Gen-Z. I was I had a mind to match this body."
Lexi's smile turned savage. "Wish granted."
The pink light hit her brain first.
Knowledge flooded in—TikTok trends, fashion brands, makeup techniques, slang, music, the whole cultural lexicon of a generation. But it wasn't just information. It was personality. It was values. It was a complete rewrite of who Kate Morrison had been.
And Lexi, who had never been rejected before, who had spent a week nursing her wounded pride, who had made Kate feel old and grey and desperate—Lexi interpreted the wish with maximum malice.
Become Gen-Z? Oh, babe. I'll make you the worst of us.
Kate's mind warped. Her kindness curdled into cruelty. Her warmth became a weapon. Her empathy evaporated, replaced by a sharp, cutting bitchiness that found weakness and exploited it. Her sense of duty became entitlement. Her love for her family became contempt.
Her nails grew long, acrylic,—talons that could scratch and claw. Her wardrobe reorganised itself—crop tops, mini skirts, platform heels, lingerie that cost more than her old car. Her makeup collection exploded across a new vanity. Her phone filled with apps she'd never heard of—TikTok, Depop, various hookup platforms.
Her vocal fry deepened. Her inflection shifted. "Like" and "literally" and "omg" became her native tongue. Her tone became mocking, dismissive, cruel.
She looked in the mirror and saw a stranger.
Kaylee.
The name appeared in her mind fully formed, and it fit like a glove. Like it had always been there, waiting.
"Omg," she said, and her voice was pure bratty perfection. "I look hot."
Her bedroom had transformed. Pink and black and leopard print. A king-size bed with silk sheets. A dildo collection that would make a porn star blush—vibrating, thrusting, some of them terrifyingly large. A full-length mirror and ring light for content creation. A closet full of designer clothes and slutty outfits.
The old Kate was still in there somewhere—a tiny voice screaming that this was wrong, that she needed to stop, that she should wish herself back—
Kaylee told it to shut the fuck up.
She got dressed. Tiny skirt—black, leather, barely covering her ass. Crop top showing underboob, the lower curve of her tits visible. Platform heels that made her legs look insane and her ass even more pronounced. Long blonde hair in a high ponytail. Makeup that said fuck me in every language—smoky eyes, glossy lips, contoured cheekbones.
She didn't recognise herself.
She loved it.
---
Joe's jaw dropped when he saw her. Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Ashley—brunette, pretty, dressed like she was trying to be sexy but not quite committing—looked at Kaylee with instant jealousy.
Good, Kaylee thought. Know your place, bitch.
"Omg, hiiii!" Kaylee air-kissed Ashley, leaving a faint lip gloss mark near her cheek. "I'm Kaylee. Love your top. So vintage."
Ashley's smile tightened. "Thanks. I like your... everything.
With her new knowledge and experience, Kaylee blended in perfectly. Gen-Z dating was different. The hotel room was already booked. The "date" was always going to end here. They all wanted to fuck. She loved it.
It took exactly four drinks before Ashley's inhibitions vanished and Sam's hands were everywhere—up her skirt, in her top, pulling her onto the bed. Joe pulled Kaylee onto the adjacent bed, and then—
An orgy. Pure and simple.
Kaylee pushed Joe onto his back and straddled him, her skirt hiked up, her thong pulled aside. She sank down onto his cock with a moan, feeling him fill her inch by inch. Her tight pussy stretched around him, gripping him like a glove.
"Oh fuck yes," she moaned, her vocal fry cracking with pleasure. "Your cock feels so fucking good inside me—"
She rode him hard, her perfect tits bouncing, her ass slapping against his thighs. She was loud—deliberately so—making sure Ashley could hear every moan, every slap of skin, every wet sound of cock entering pussy.
Ashley was on her hands and knees nearby, Sam fucking her from behind, but her eyes kept drifting to Kaylee. To those perfect tits. To that flawless body taking Joe's cock like she was born for it.
"Come here, babe," Kaylee commanded, crooking a finger at Ashley. "Eat me out while I ride him."
Ashley hesitated, but Sam pushed her head toward Kaylee's ass. Her tongue found Kaylee's clit—oh fuck—and Kaylee screamed, her orgasm hitting her like a freight train.
They switched. Kaylee on her hands and knees, Sam behind her, his cock sliding into her soaked pussy.
And when Sam's cock entered her—fuck, he was huge, bigger than Joe by at least three inches, thick enough to make her eyes water—she saw heaven.
"Oh my God," she screamed, her vocal fry cracking with pleasure. "Your cock is so fucking big—it's splitting me open—yes—"
He hit her cervix and she saw stars. Her pussy stretched around him, taking every inch, her body accommodating him like it was made for this. Like she was made for big cocks.
She came harder than she ever had. Size mattered. She was instantly a size queen.
Ashley watched with wide eyes as Kaylee took every inch, begging for more, cumming again and again. The other girl looked almost scared—intimidated by this blonde goddess who could take a cock that would make most women cry.
Afterward, lying in a tangle of limbs, cum leaking from her well-fucked pussy, Kaylee knew: she was never going back. This was who she was now. A bratty, slutty, size-queen bitch who loved young cock and didn't give a fuck about anything but pleasure.
---
Sam came over the next day. Ashley didn't care—they had an "open" relationship, apparently, which meant Sam fucked whoever he wanted and Ashley pretended she was fine with it. He wanted her and that was good.
Kaylee didn't judge. She just enjoyed.
She was face-down on her bed, Sam's massive cock buried in her pussy, his hands gripping her hips as he pounded into her. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by her breathy moans and his guttural grunts.
"Harder," she demanded, her face pressed into the pillow. "Fuck me harder, you—"
The front door opened.
"Kate? I'm home early—"
Richard.
Kaylee didn't stop. She looked over her shoulder—her perfect ass still in the air, Sam still pounding her, his cock glistening with her juices—and saw her husband standing in the doorway. His face was a mask of shock and horror.
She should have felt guilty. She felt nothing but annoyance. Richard screamed at her. He threw stuff. Sam wanted to stop fucking her, this wouldn't do.
She reached over and grabbed her phone. "OMG Lexi, get out here. I need your help."
The app buzzed.
"Hey, want me to help fix this, babe?" Giggled Lexi as she instantly assessed the situation. Kaylee nodded. "I need this loser to stop making such a fuss."
"Hmmm, then why don't you make Richard here more appreciative of the situation, then you can carry on uninterrupted."
Kaylee smiled. Lexi always had the best ideas. "Fuck yeah, in that case I wish Richard was a sissy cuckold loser who can only get hard if he's watching me get fucked or I'm being mean to him."
Pink light.
Richard's expression shifted—confusion, then something else. Something hungry. His pants tented, his cock straining against the fabric of his slacks despite the fact that his wife was getting railed by another man.
"K-Kate—" His voice was higher. Weaker. Pathetic.
"It's Kaylee, now get over here and watch," Kaylee commanded. "And don't you dare touch yourself until I say."
Richard—Richie—shuffled forward, his eyes locked on Sam's cock plunging into his wife's perfect pussy. His own dick throbbed in his pants, leaking precum, harder than it had been in years.
"That's it," Kaylee moaned, pushing back against Sam. "Watch him fuck me. Watch him make me cum on his big cock. You could never do this, Richie. You're too old. Too small. Too pathetic."
Richard whimpered. His cock spurted in his pants, a wet stain spreading across the front of his slacks.
"Did you just cum from watching me get fucked?" Kaylee laughed, cruel and bright. "Omg, you're even more pathetic than I thought."
Sam grabbed her hips and fucked her harder, turned on by the humiliation. He pulled out at the last moment and came all over Kaylee's ass—hot, thick ropes of cum decorating her perfect cheeks, dripping down her thighs.
"Clean it up, Richie." Kaylee pointed at the mess. "Lick it all off."
Richard fell to his knees and obeyed. His tongue lapped at her cum-covered ass, tasting Sam's seed, his own cock still hard and straining in his ruined pants.
"Good boy," Kaylee said mockingly. "Maybe I'll let you watch again sometime."
---
The next day, Sam and Joe were taking turns fucking her—Joe in her mouth, Sam in her pussy—when Riley came home.
"Mom? I heard voices and—oh my God."
Riley stood in the doorway, his face pale with shock and horror. His best friend's cock in his mother's mouth. Another guy he barely knew pounding her from behind. Her perfect tits swinging with every thrust.
"Mom, what the fuck—"
Kaylee pulled off Joe's cock with a pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the head. "Don't call me Mom, babe. It's Kaylee now." She rolled her eyes. "And don't be such a prude. You're just mad you're not getting any."
Riley's face twisted with disgust and anger. "This is sick. You're sick. You're my mother—you're supposed to be—you're fucking my friends—"
"Was your mother," Kaylee corrected, her voice dripping with contempt. "That boring old bitch is gone. I'm Kaylee now, and I do what I want."
"You need help." Riley's voice cracked. "Serious help. This isn't you—"
Kaylee felt a flash of irritation. Then something darker—a cruel satisfaction at the look on his face. The judgment. The moral outrage. It was so pathetic.
"Sam, Joe—stop for a second."
The guys pulled out, their cocks glistening, still hard. Kaylee sat up, her perfect body on full display, and looked at her son with cold eyes.
"You know what your problem is, Riley? You're weak. You're soft. You're a whiny little bitch who can't handle the fact that his mommy likes getting fucked." She stood up, naked, and walked toward him. "You tried to ruin my fun. You tried to make me feel bad about it."
"Someone has to—"
"Shut up." Kaylee grabbed her phone. The app was already open.
Lexi appeared, grinning. "Oh, this is gonna be good."
"I wish Riley was a trans girl with a small cock and a pretty body who loves sucking dick."
Riley's eyes went wide. "Mom, no—please—"
Pink light.
Riley's transformation was beautiful, in a cruel way. His shoulders narrowed, the muscle melting away into softness. His hips widened, becoming feminine and curvy. His ass plumped up, becoming round and squeezable. His face softened into delicate femininity—high cheekbones, full lips, long lashes. His hair grew out, falling past his shoulders in soft waves.
His cock shrank—tiny now, barely three inches hard, a pathetic little nub that would never satisfy anyone. His body became smooth and pretty and fuckable—the kind of body that was made to be used.
She blinked, confused for only a moment, and then her eyes found Joe's cock. Her tiny dick twitched.
"Can I...?" Riley—Ri-Ri—bit her lip, looking up at Joe through her lashes. Her voice was soft and breathy. "Can I touch it?"
"Go ahead, babe." Kaylee gestured. "Show me what you can do."
Ri-Ri sank to her knees and took Joe's cock in her mouth with practiced ease, her pretty lips wrapping around the shaft, her tongue swirling around the head. Her own little dick—her clitty, as Kaylee would call it—was rock hard, spurting precum as she worshipped him.
"Look at that," Kaylee said, watching with satisfaction. "My son is a natural cocksucker. Who knew?"
Ri-Ri moaned around Joe's cock, her hips wiggling, her tiny dick bouncing. She was desperate for it. Humiliated and loving every second.
"Sam," Kaylee commanded. "Give her something to suck on too."
Sam moved to Ri-Ri's other side, and soon she was taking turns—Joe's cock, then Sam's, then back again—her pretty face getting messier and messier with spit and precum.
"Let's give her what she really wants," Kaylee said. "Bukkake style."
The guys stroked themselves, standing over Ri-Ri as she knelt between them, her mouth open, her tongue out, her eyes glazed with submission.
Joe came first—thick ropes of cum splashing across Ri-Ri's face, coating her cheeks, her nose, her lips. She moaned and tried to catch it in her mouth.
Sam followed, his load even bigger, painting her forehead, her chin, dripping down onto her flat chest. She was covered—a cum-drenched mess, her pretty face barely visible under the glaze of semen.
"Omg, you look amazing," Kaylee giggled, snapping a photo with her phone. "Such a good little cum whore."
Ri-Ri's tiny dick spurted without being touched, her own pathetic orgasm triggered by the humiliation. She came all over herself, her little load adding to the mess on her stomach.
Richard watched from the corner, his cock straining in its cage, his eyes glazed with submissive bliss. He'd watched his son become a cum-covered slut and it had made him hard.
---
The next morning, Kaylee made her final wish.
"I wish my family was totally subservient and dedicated to supporting my needs."
Pink light.
And just like that, it was done. Richie—her sissy cuckold husband—cooked and cleaned and worshipped the ground she walked on, his cock permanently caged, his only pleasure derived from serving her. He did her laundry, ran her baths, prepared her outfits. He was her maid, her butler, her slave.
Ri-Ri—her pretty little trans daughter—was her personal assistant, arranging hookups and shopping trips and spa days, her tiny cock always hard when Kaylee called her a good girl. She was also available for entertainment—whenever Kaylee's hookups wanted a warm-up, Ri-Ri was there, eager to please.
The house ran smoothly. Kaylee wanted for nothing.
It might have ended there, but Lexi had one last surprise...
---
Three days later, Kaylee was getting ready for another hookup—tight dress, high heels, makeup perfect—when her phone buzzed.
The app opened on its own.
Lexi's face appeared, but her expression was different. More intense. More hungry.
"Hey, babe. I've got a surprise for you."
"Omg, what?" Kaylee checked her lipstick in the mirror. "I'm kind of busy—"
"Reverse."
The word hung in the air like a guillotine.
"What?"
"I'm reversing all your wishes, babe. Temporarily." Lexi's smile was a knife. "Just for a little while. Just so we can... talk."
Pink light exploded from the phone, but this time it was different—colder, harsher, like being doused in ice water.
Kaylee felt her tits shrink—no no no—her D-cups deflating back to modest B-cups. Her ass flattened. Her platinum hair darkened to mousy brown. Her perfect face aged, wrinkles appearing like cracks in porcelain, her skin sagging, her eyes dimming.
She was forty-five again. Plain. Grey. Old.
She looked around and the room had changed—her slutty bedroom was gone, replaced by the sensible master suite she'd shared with Richard. Her designer clothes had vanished, replaced by beige cardigans and mom jeans.
Downstairs, she heard Richard's voice—deep, confident, male. And Riley—her son, Riley, male and whole and unbroken.
Kate Morrison stood in her bedroom, old and tired and grey, and she wanted to scream.
Lexi appeared, lounging with a satisfied smirk.
"There she is. The woman who rejected me." She leaned forward, her bubblegum eyes glittering. "How does it feel, Kate? How does it feel to be you again?"
Kate's hands were shaking. Her body ached. Her skin was loose and wrinkled. Her tits sagged. Her pussy was dry and unused. She felt nothing—no arousal, no excitement, no vitality.
Just the grey, creeping emptiness that had been consuming her for weeks before Lexi came.
"Change me back," Kate whispered.
"Say please."
"Please."
"Say it properly." Lexi's voice was silk over steel. "Tell me what you want to be, Kate. Tell me who you really are."
Kate swallowed. The old voice in her head—the one that had been screaming for weeks—was silent now. Or maybe it was just drowned out by the deafening need.
"I want to be Kaylee."
"Who's Kaylee?"
"I am." Kate's voice cracked. "I'm Kaylee. I'm a—I'm a bratty, slutty, Gen-Z bitch with big tits and a tight pussy and I love—I love—getting fucked by big cocks."
"What else?"
"I love cheating. I love cuckolding Richard. I love humiliating my family. I love being cruel." The words poured out of her, ugly and true. "I love being mean. I love making Ri-Ri suck cock. I love making Richie eat cum. I love being a—a size queen—I love being a whore—"
"What are you begging for, Kate?"
"I'm begging to be evil!" Kate sobbed. "I'm begging to be a wicked, toxic, bratty slut who doesn't care about anyone but herself! I want to be Kaylee forever! I want to be permanent!"
Lexi's smile was radiant. Triumphant. Cruel.
"That's what I wanted to hear, babe."
She snapped her fingers.
Pink light hit Kate like a wave of pure pleasure. She was falling—no, flying—her body transforming again, but faster this time, more intense. Her tits swelled, heavy and round and perfect. Her ass inflated. Her waist narrowed. Her hips widened. Her hair turned platinum blonde and grew past her shoulders, thick and glossy.
Her face reshaped itself—higher cheekbones, fuller lips, sexier eyes. Her skin tightened, becoming smooth and glowing. Her nails grew long and pink. Her vocal fry deepened.
But the biggest change was inside. The last remnants of Kate Morrison—kind, loving, selfless Kate—burned away like morning fog. In their place was pure, unadulterated Kaylee—cruel, selfish, greedy, horny, wicked.
And this time, it was permanent.
Kaylee opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. She was even hotter than before. More perfect. More evil.
"Omg," she breathed, and her voice was pure bratty perfection. "I'm back, bitches."
Downstairs, she heard Richie's high, pathetic voice calling up to her. "Kaylee? Do you need anything, mistress?"
And Ri-Ri: "Mistress Kaylee, Sam's here. Should I... warm him up for you?"
Kaylee smiled. A slow, cruel, satisfied smile.
"Send him up, Ri-Ri. And then come watch. Both of you."
Lexi vanished in a puff of smoke and her voice echoed from the phone one last time: "No one rejects the Gen-Z Genie, babe. No one. I always win."
Then she was gone, and Kaylee was alone with her perfect, permanent, wicked self.
She ran her hands over her big tits, down her tiny waist, over her perfect ass. Her pussy was already dripping, aching to be filled.
It felt so good to be bad.
And it was going to feel good forever.
---
The once-kind mother was gone. Only the wicked teenage bitch remained. And she would never, ever go back.
Forty years old, divorced, gut hanging over his waistband, hair thin as tissue paper. He was scrolling through his phone when the icon appeared. Pink. Sparkly. A cartoon genie winking under lashy eyes.
Genie Z—Make a Wish, Bestie! 💖
"Stupid," Dan muttered. But his thumb pressed it anyway.
Pink smoke poured from his phone. Actual smoke—smelling of bubblegum and vanilla and something electric. Dan scrambled backward as it coalesced into a figure.
A girl. Maybe twenty. Blonde hair in a high ponytail, crop top showing a flat tummy, pink lipstick, chewing gum with her mouth open. Big blue eyes rolling like she was already bored with him. She floated cross-legged above his bed, phone in hand, nails painted sparkly pink.
"O-M-G, hi! I'm Lexi? Your totally personal genie?" She snapped her gum. "I grant, like, one wish, so make it count, bestie!"
Dan stared. "You're—you're real?"
"Duh? What kind of fake genie pops out of a phone at 2 AM?" Lexi examined her nails. "So yeah. Wish. Let's go, I have, like, other clients."
Dan's mind raced. Money? Power? His eyes drifted to the mirror across the room—his receding hairline, his soft middle, the tired lines around his eyes.
"I wish I was permanently young again."
Lexi's smile stretched. Something flickered in her eyes—hunger.
"Granted! 💕"
She snapped her fingers. Pink light exploded outward. Dan tried to scream but his voice—
He woke up in silk.
Silk?
Dan sat up and the world tilted wrong. His centre of gravity was lower. His chest—there was weight there—two heavy mounds pulling at him. His hands flew up and grabbed fistfuls of soft, round—
"What the fuck—"
He threw back the covers. Smooth golden legs. Tiny waist. Hips that flared like an hourglass. And between them, a neat strip of blonde hair above a slit he'd never seen from this angle.
Dan scrambled out of bed and caught his reflection in a full-length mirror. A girl stared back. Twenty-one. High round tits—easily a D-cup—defying gravity. A face like a wet dream. Plump pink lips, big blue eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass. Long blonde hair cascading over bare shoulders.
"LEXI!"
Pink smoke curled in the corner of the room. Lexi materialized, still floating, still chewing gum.
"Happy birthday, Danni! 🎂" She grinned. "You're, like, 21! And you get to live this day forever! Isn't that, like, amazing?"
"Forever?" Dan's voice came out high and breathy—her voice. "You turned me into a girl—"
"You wished to be permanently young! This is, like, permanently young?" Lexi shrugged. "You're gonna be 21 every day forever. You're welcome!"
The door burst open. A maid carried in champagne and strawberries. "Happy birthday, Miss Danni! Your parents left your presents downstairs. The salon team arrives in one hour!"
Dan—Danni—stood there naked. Tits out. Mouth open. Mind reeling.
Lexi giggled. "Have fun, bestie! I'll check in later! 💋"
She vanished in a puff of pink smoke.
Loop 1
Disaster.
Danni tripped down the stairs in heels she didn't know how to walk in. Face-planted into her own birthday cake. Frosting in her hair, icing on her brand-new tits. The party guests—the hot party guests—stared in horror.
She manspread in her birthday dress, flashing her Spanx to the caterers. She called a Birkin bag "nice" and her friend Brittnee looked at her like she'd grown a second head.
"Nice?" Brittnee's face said it all.
Danni went to bed confused, frustrated, and wet. Her body was so sensitive. Every brush of silk against her nipples sent shocks through her. She'd caught herself checking out the pool boy's ass and felt sick.
Then she woke up.
Same silk sheets. Same morning. Same maid with champagne.
Again?
Loop 5
Danni had learned to walk in heels. Put one foot in front of the other, sway the hips, own it. She'd learned her friends—Brittnee, Kaycee, Ashlee—were bitches. Wonderful bitches. And they expected her to be one too.
She'd learned her nipples showed through silk and that was the point.
She'd also learned the pool boy's name was Brad. And that he changed in the cabana around noon. And that he had a cock like a fucking prize.
On loop five, Danni "accidentally" walked in on him. Then not so accidentally dropped to her knees.
"Miss Danni, I—" Brad started.
"Shut up," she said, and took him in her mouth.
Oh God. The taste. The weight on her tongue. The way he swelled and throbbed as she sucked. Her old self would've been disgusted. Her new self was dripping.
She pulled off with a pop. "Fuck me."
Brad didn't need telling twice. He bent her over the cabana lounger and pushed inside her—stretching her open, filling her up, ruining her for anyone else.
"Ooooh... fuck yes—" Danni grabbed the cushion, nails digging in, as Brad's thick cock hit something deep inside her that made her see stars. "Harder—harder—"
She came three times. Three. In twenty minutes. Her old body had been lucky to manage one every few months.
After, lying with Brad's cum leaking out of her, Danni felt something. Not guilt.
Power.
She'd made him hard. Made him beg. With just a look and a pout.
Loop 15
Danni discovered the joy of cruelty.
There was a girl at her party—Megan. Chubby. Bad skin. Cheap dress. A hanger-on who'd somehow scored an invite. Danni's old self would've felt sorry for her.
But watching Kaycee and Ashlee rip into Megan's outfit, watching the girl's face crumple—Danni felt something twist inside her. Hot. Wet. Delicious.
"Nice dress," Danni heard herself say, popping her gum. "Did you get it at... whatever store poor people go to?"
Where did that come from?
Megan ran off crying. And Danni's pussy throbbed.
She followed Megan into the bathroom. Found her sobbing at the mirror.
"Why are you being so mean?" Megan wailed.
Danni leaned in, lips brushing Megan's ear. "Because I can, sweetie."
She went home and masturbated four times that night.
Loop 30
Danni had started planning her cruelty.
Megan wasn't enough. Too easy—too pathetic to really satisfy. So Danni moved on to bigger game.
Brittnee's boyfriend, Chase, had a thing for blonde hair and big tits. Danni had noticed it on loop twelve—the way his eyes lingered on her cleavage, the way he'd find excuses to be near her. Brittnee had noticed too. She was pissed.
On loop thirty, Danni did something about it.
She cornered Chase in Brittnee's bedroom during her own birthday party. Pushed him against the wall. Pressed her body against his.
"You've been staring at my tits all night, Chase," she whispered, rubbing her palm over his growing bulge. "Don't you want to touch them?"
"Danni, Brittnee's right downstairs—"
"So?" She pulled her top down, freeing her tits. They were perfect—round, heavy, pink nipples already hard. "She doesn't have to know."
Chase broke. He grabbed her tits like a starving man, sucking and biting her nipples while Danni moaned and stroked his cock through his jeans.
She rode him on Brittnee's bed. Slowly at first, then faster, grinding her clit against him, watching his face twist with pleasure she was giving him. His hands gripped her perfect ass as she bounced on his cock.
"Tell me I'm better than Brittnee," she demanded.
"Fuck—you're so much better—"
"Louder."
"YOU'RE BETTER THAN BRITTNEE—"
The door opened.
"Danni?! What the—CHASE?!"
Brittnee stood in the doorway, mascara already running. Danni just looked over her shoulder, Chase's cock still buried inside her, and smirked.
"He wanted a real woman, Britt. Sorry not sorry."
Brittnee fled sobbing. Chase kept fucking her.
Danni came so hard she saw God.
Loop 50
Something was happening to Dan.
Not physically—Danni's body was the same perfect specimen it had always been. But mentally... the old Dan was fading.
She couldn't remember his last name anymore. Something with an M? Miller? Mitchell? Gone. She couldn't remember what forty felt like. The back pain, the hair loss—like stories someone had told her once.
What she could remember, vividly, was every way to make a man hard. Every way to destroy a girl's self-esteem. Every position that made her cum the hardest.
She'd fucked Brad. Marco the caterer. Tyler, her "ex" who always showed up hoping to win her back. On loop forty-four, all three at once—Brad in her pussy, Marco in her ass, Tyler in her mouth. She'd cum until she couldn't walk.
She'd learned to deepthroat. To ride. To take it up the ass and beg for more.
She'd learned she loved it.
Lexi appeared that night, floating above the bed as Danni lay satisfied, three loads of cum dripping out of her.
"Having fun, bestie?" Lexi grinned.
Danni—sprawled across the sheets, naked, glowing—just smiled. "The best."
"You're, like, so different from that sad old man who made the wish." Lexi popped her gum. "It's, like, totally an improvement."
Not hidden. Not suppressed. Gone. Like a dream you can't quite remember after waking. There was only Danni now—rich, hot, spoiled, perfect.
Her birthday was the best day of the year—every year—and she knew exactly how to make it perfect.
Step one: Wake up in silk. Let the maid bring champagne, then send it back. "This is Moët, Maria. I told you I only drink Dom Pérignon on my birthday." Watch Maria scramble. Power.
Step two: The salon. Get everything done—hair, nails, the works. Let the stylists fawn over her. She was their best client. She tipped well but never let them forget who was in charge.
Step three: Shopping. Her parents' black card was hers. Buy everything. The looks on the other girls' faces when she walked out with bags they couldn't afford—chef's kiss.
Step four: The party. Make Megan cry. Make Brittnee jealous. Fuck whoever she wanted—sometimes two somebodies. Destroy at least one relationship just for fun.
Step five: End the night in her huge bed, exhausted and satisfied, already excited to do it again.
She didn't question it anymore. She didn't want to question it.
Loop 100
Danni woke up on her hundredth birthday and everything clicked.
She stretched—arms above her head, back arching, tits pushing up perfectly. Every cell in her body hummed with power and beauty and pure, unfiltered bitch energy.
Maria came in with champagne. Dom Pérignon this time—Maria had learned.
"Happy birthday, Miss Danni!"
Danni took the glass without looking at her. "Mmhm. The salon team better be here in forty-five minutes. And tell them I want the full treatment—my hair needs to be perfect tonight."
She sipped her champagne.
Pink smoke curled in the corner. Lexi materialized, floating cross-legged, grinning.
"Happy 100th birthday, bestie! 💖"
Danni didn't flinch. "Hey, Lexi."
"O-M-G, you're, like, so different now?" Lexi circled her, examining. "Remember when you were, like, 'waah, you turned me into a girl'? And now look at you!"
Danni smirked. "I look hot."
"You look perfect." Lexi landed on the bed, tucking her legs under her. "So. I have, like, news?"
"News?"
"You've, like, graduated? You've mastered being a 21-year-old mean girl? So I'm, like, upgrading your gift?" Lexi snapped her fingers. "Instead of living the same day forever... you get to live the same year forever! 🎉"
Danni's eyes widened. "A whole year?"
"A whole year of birthdays and shopping and fucking and ruining!" Lexi clapped her hands. "You can, like, really destroy people now! Not just one day—seasons of destruction!"
Danni felt a pulse of pure pleasure between her legs. A whole year. A whole year of power.
She slid her hand under the sheets and touched herself—fingers sliding through her slick folds, circling her clit—thinking about all the lives she was going to destroy. All the boys she was going to ride. All the girls she was going to break.
"Mmmmmh... fuck yes..."
Lexi watched, delighted. "You're, like, my greatest creation, Danni. I'm so proud of you."
Danni laughed—high, cruel, delighted—and came on her own fingers.
She brought them to her lips and sucked them clean.
Kyle Mitchell was king of Sigma Chi, and he fucking knew it.
Ten inches. Thick. Veiny. The kind of cock that made sorority girls text their friends mid-fuck—omg you NEED to try this—and then pretend they hadn't when he didn't call back.
Every night, a different girl. Every night, some tight waxed cunt clenching around his shaft while he pounded them into his shitty dorm mattress. Blonde, brunette, redhead—didn't matter. They all wanted the same thing. They all wanted to be chosen.
"Fuck, Kyle—fuck—you're so fucking big—"
Brittany. Or maybe it was Madison. Some Kappa Delta with fake tits and a waxed pussy so smooth it looked like she'd never hit puberty. She was clawing at his back, eyes rolled back, and Kyle was going through the motions. Thrust. Grind. Make her cum. Cum on her tits. Kick her out before breakfast.
Same shit. Different night.
"You like that, slut?" he grunted, not because he cared, but because that was the script.
"Yes—oh god yes—"
The headboard banged against the wall. Kyle could see his roommate Eric's light was on next door—fucking nerd was probably studying at 11pm on a Friday, the pathetic little virgin—and he made sure to fuck Brittany even louder. Let the little cuck hear what a real man sounded like.
When she left—stumbling out at 2am with her thong in her purse and his cum drying on her stomach—Kyle lay back and felt... nothing.
They don't see ME, he thought. They see the cock.
---
It had started to eat at him. The way girls looked at his crotch before they looked at his face. The way they'd laugh at his jokes even when they weren't funny. The way they'd agree with everything he said, like they were auditioning for a role in his life instead of actually talking to him.
"I wish women could see me for who I really am," he muttered to himself that night, scrolling through his phone with one hand while the other rested on his softening dick.
That's when the app appeared.
GENIE-Z - Make a Wish, Bestie 💫
"What the fuck?" Kyle squinted at the neon pink icon. He hadn't downloaded this. He would never download something that called him "bestie." But his thumb was already hovering, and—whatever—he was bored.
He tapped it.
Pink smoke erupted from his phone screen—actual fucking smoke, smelling like cotton candy and expensive perfume—and Kyle yelped, dropping his phone onto the bed.
When the smoke cleared, she was sitting cross-legged at the foot of his mattress.
Holy shit.
She was—fuck—she was the most obnoxiously hot thing he'd ever seen. Maybe nineteen, twenty max. Long blonde hair pulled into a messy high ponytail. Pink crop top stretched over big, round tits that said PRINCESS in glittery letters. Tiny denim cutoffs that showed off tanned legs and a perfectly gym-toned ass. Pink acrylic nails tapping against her knee. A wad of bubblegum expanding between glossed lips.
She blew a bubble. It popped. Pink shards stuck to her lips. She licked them off, utterly unbothered.
"Ugh," she said, looking around his dorm room with visible disgust. "This place is, like, depressing." She picked up a discarded thong from the floor with two fingers. "Is this... yours?"
"That's Brittany's—"
"Gross." She dropped it like it was radioactive. "Okay, so, hi. I'm Lexi. I'm your genie. Obviously." She examined her nails. "Okay. I'm Lexi, the Gen-Z genie. You summoned me or whatever. One wish. No take-backs. No refunds. I literally cannot stress that enough."
Kyle stared. "You're the genie?"
"Did I stutter?" Lexi rolled her eyes—actually rolled them, like he was the idiot here. "Yes, I'm the genie. What, you expected some big blue guy with Robin Williams energy? Ew. This isn't 1992, grandpa. We rebranded."
She snapped her fingers and a phone appeared in her hand. She started scrolling, barely looking at him.
"So, like, what do you want? Make it quick. I have, like, other clients." She didn't look up. "And before you ask for more wishes—no. That's, like, the most basic bitch wish. Be original."
Kyle sat up, suddenly interested. A hot genie who could grant wishes? This was—
"I wish women could see me for who I really am."
Lexi stopped scrolling. She looked up. And then—slowly, deliberately—she smiled.
It wasn't a nice smile.
"Oh my god," she breathed, and her eyes lit up with something that looked almost like hunger. "That is, like, such a good wish."
"Yeah?"
"Yessss." She popped her gum, leaning forward, and her tits strained against the PRINCESS shirt. "You want them to really see you? Not just the cock? Not just the muscles? You want them to see the real Kyle?"
"Exactly." Kyle nodded, feeling validated for the first time in weeks. "Finally, someone gets it."
"Baby, I totally get it." Lexi stood up, stretching, and her crop top rode up to show a flat, tanned stomach with a tiny diamond piercing. "You know what your problem is, Kyle?"
"What?"
She stepped closer. Close enough that he could smell her—vanilla and something sweeter, something that made his head swim. She leaned down, her lips inches from his ear.
"You think you're the main character." She giggled, breath warm against his skin. "But you're not. You're, like, barely a supporting role."
"What the fuck is that supposed to—"
"Shh." She pressed a pink nail to his lips. "I've got you, bestie. I'm gonna give you exactly what you asked for."
She snapped her fingers.
Pink smoke exploded around him, and Lexi's laughter echoed in his ears—high and bratty and cruel.
"Good luck with your new life, loser! 💋"
---
Kyle woke up to the worst feeling of his life.
Something was wrong. His crotch felt—light. Empty. He reached down, half-asleep, and his hand found—
Nothing.
Not nothing. But close.
Kyle threw back the covers and stared down at his dick. Or what was left of it. His beautiful, perfect, ten-inch monster was gone. In its place was the most pathetic little nub he'd ever seen—maybe an inch, if he was generous, poking out from his pubic hair like a frightened worm.
"LEXI!" he screamed. "LEXI, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"
Pink smoke curled from nowhere, and suddenly she was there again—sitting on his desk, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone.
"Ugh, what?" She didn't look up. "I'm busy."
"Look at me!"
She glanced over. Looked down at his crotch. And burst out laughing.
"Oh my god," she wheezed, slapping her thigh. "It's so tiny. It's like—like a little baby carrot. That is, like, hilarious."
"You took my cock!"
"I did not." She hopped off the desk, still giggling, and bent down to examine his micro-dick with theatrical fascination. "I granted your wish, bestie. You wanted women to see you for who you really are." She straightened up, popping her gum. "So I took away the thing that was distracting them. You're welcome."
"That's not what I meant and you know it!"
"Okay, but that's what you said." She shrugged, examining her nails again. "Words have, like, consequences. Didn't your English 101 teach you anything?"
"Take it back! Give me my cock back!"
"Um, no?" She looked at him like he'd asked her to do calculus. "I literally said no take-backs. It's, like, the first thing I told you. Were you not listening?"
"I wasn't—I didn't think—"
"Clearly." She rolled her eyes. "Look, Kyle. You wanted women to see the real you. And the real you?" She leaned in, smiling sweetly. "Is a guy with a tiny dick who has nothing to offer. No personality. No charm. Just a big cock and an ego problem. And now..." She reached down and flicked his micro-dick with one pink nail. "You don't even have the cock."
She was gone before he could respond.
---
Across the room, Eric's bed was empty. Must've gone for early classes.
Kyle's phone buzzed. A text from Kaylee, the Tri-Delt who'd been begging him to come over:
hey big boy, still want to come over tonight? 😏
Big boy. The words mocked him.
---
Eric came home that afternoon, and Kyle knew immediately that something was different.
The nerd walked differently. Shoulders back. Chin up. There was a bulge in his jeans that—holy shit—looked like he was hiding a fucking cucumber in there.
"Kyle," Eric said, and even his voice was deeper. Richer. "What's up, man?"
"What the fuck happened to you?"
Eric smirked—actually smirked, the confident bastard—and dropped his backpack on his bed. "I don't know, man. Woke up feeling... different. Like everything just clicked." He adjusted himself through his jeans, and Kyle heard the unmistakable sound of something heavy shifting. "Really different."
He knew then what Lexi had done. She'd given Eric his cock. She'd swapped them!
Kyle watched his former nerd roommate stretch, his new bulk straining against his too-tight shirt, and felt something he'd never felt before.
Insignificance.
---
The first time Kyle heard Eric fucking a girl, it was Kaylee.
Of course it was Kaylee.
She'd come over looking for Kyle, but Eric had answered the door shirtless—showing off his new body, the one that had apparently come with muscles and the ten-inch cock that used to belong to Kyle—and within ten minutes she was in Eric's bed.
"Oh my god—"
Kyle sat on his own bed, back against the wall, listening to every sound through the thin dorm wall.
"Eric—fuck—you're so fucking BIG—"
The same words. The same fucking words she would've said to him. But now she was saying them to Eric. To the nerd who'd never even kissed a girl until today.
Kyle looked down at his tiny dick—hard now, all one pathetic inch of it—and wrapped his fingers around it. His thumb and forefinger overlapped. He started to stroke, but there was barely anything to grip.
In the next room, Kaylee was screaming. "Don't stop—oh god—don't ever stop—"
Kyle came in thirty seconds. A single, watery drop that oozed out of his micro-dick and pooled on his stomach.
He lay there, listening to Eric make Kaylee cum three more times, and for the first time in his life, Kyle Mitchell felt what it was like to be a nobody.
---
He tried summoning Lexi again.
He opened the app, typed I WISH TO UNDO MY WISH, and hit send.
Pink smoke. She appeared, sitting on his pillow, filing her nails.
"No."
"I didn't even ask yet!"
"You were going to." She blew on her nails. "And the answer's no. You got one wish. You used it. That's, like, the rules."
"You twisted my words!"
"Um, I interpreted your words." She looked up, smirking. "There's a difference. You said you wanted women to see the real you. I made it so the real you is all there is." She hopped off the bed, stretching. "You're welcome, by the way. Most people don't get to be so... authentic."
"I hate you."
"Aww." She patted his cheek, her pink nails scraping lightly against his stubble. "That's, like, so not my problem." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "But between you and me? This is way more entertaining than giving you what you actually wanted."
She vanished, leaving only the scent of bubblegum and the sound of her laughter.
---
It got worse.
Within a week, Eric was the new king of Sigma Chi. Girls who'd ignored him for three years were suddenly finding excuses to "study" in his room. Brittany. Madison. That hot redhead from Pi Phi whose name Kyle could never remember. They all wanted a turn with the nerd's new equipment.
And Kyle?
Kyle was invisible.
"Hey, have you seen Eric?" Brittany asked, poking her head into their room. She looked right through Kyle like he was furniture.
"He's at the gym," Kyle muttered.
"Ugh, thanks!" She bounced away, and Kyle caught her texting someone—probably spreading the word about Eric's cock like it was the second coming.
Nobody wanted Kyle anymore. Why would they? He was still decent-looking, sure, but without the cock, he was just another frat bro with nothing to offer. Girls didn't laugh at his jokes anymore. They didn't pretend to care about his opinions. They didn't even look at him.
One night, drunk and desperate, he tried to hit on a sophomore at a party. She looked at his crotch—always the crotch first—and then back up at his face.
"Sorry," she said, not even trying to hide her disappointment. "You're, like... not my type."
She walked away. Toward Eric.
---
A month later, Kyle was sitting in his room—always in his room now, since he had nowhere else to go—listening to Eric pound some freshman named Tiff.
"Yes—yes—YES—" Tiff was screaming, and the headboard was slamming against the wall so hard the pictures were shaking.
Kyle's tiny dick was hard again. It was always hard now—pathetic and desperate and completely useless. He wrapped his fingers around it and started stroking, his other hand cupping his shriveled little balls.
In the next room, Eric laughed. "You like that, slut?"
"Love it—oh god—I love your big cock—"
Kyle came. One drop. Watery and sad.
He lay there in the dark, listening to Tiff cum for the third time, and thought about the wish. About what he'd really wanted. About how he'd thought "seeing him for who he really was" meant they'd appreciate his personality.
But Lexi knew the truth.
Who Kyle really was—under the cock, under the confidence, under the swagger—was just another insecure little boy with nothing to offer.
And now everyone could see it.
---
Pink smoke curled at the edge of his vision.
"Hey, loser."
Kyle didn't even flinch anymore. "What do you want, Lexi?"
She was sitting on his desk again, legs crossed, sucking on a lollipop—cherry red, matching her nails. She looked... satisfied. Like a cat who'd caught a particularly entertaining mouse.
"Just checking in." She pulled the lollipop out with a pop. "How's the whole 'being seen for who you really are' thing working out?"
"Fuck you."
"Pass." She swung her legs, looking around the room with that same disgusted expression. "You know, I've done, like, a lot of wishes. And yours was, like, top five most satisfying to grant." She smiled—sweet and vicious. "You really thought you were something special, didn't you? You thought if they just looked past the cock, they'd see some deep, interesting guy underneath."
She hopped down and walked over to him, her heels clicking on the floor. She bent down, her face inches from his.
"But there's nothing there, Kyle. Under the cock, you're just... empty. A pretty shell with nothing inside." She patted his cheek. "And now everyone knows it."
She was gone before he could respond.
---
Kyle sat alone in the dark, his tiny dick soft and useless in his hand, listening to the sounds of his roommate—his roommate—fucking the girl who should've been his.
And somewhere, in whatever dimension bratty genies lived, Lexi was filing her nails and thinking about how delightfully entertaining the whole thing had been.
