Mandatory Milf: Self Care

Looking in the mirror once again, at this unfamiliar woman, Jon wondered whether he really wanted to do this. Whether he was actually willing to wish things he would regret later. But unfortunately he was so turned on now that it wasn't so much about what he really wanted. There was an itch, and he **needed** to scratch it. "What's my name?" He tried recalling. _Sue_ "I wish that whenever my wishes concern 'Sue', my new self, the wishes would modify the whole reality to make it true with the exception of not instantly affecting my mind. I wish that my mind then got affected later, at a random point in the following 24h, unless I explicitly specified some other time." This way he could wish for Sue to feel this and that way about certain things, without immediately affecting his own way of thinking, but with a 100% guarantee that eventually his attitude will match the milf who's life he was designing, even if he'd changed his mind by then. It was hot, the idea that he'd get to really dread what's coming, and with no way to stop it, because wishes were irreversible. "I wish I was 100% aware of my mind changing, with one minute of a warning in the form of a voice in my head reminding me about my wish." The rock went warm. "Cool, that'll do in terms of preparation." As a masochist, Jon liked the idea of setting a trap for himself. The facility he just wished made sure that he could decide all kinds of deliciously devious ways his future life should look, simultaneously delaying the mental effects on himself. Just to give himself enough time to realize how much of a mistake he's made and the time to dread the inevitable. Once again, he directed his hand into his crotch. It felt so *sweaty*, even though he knew it wasn't sweat. And brushing his fingers against the fleshy folds he could feel but not see was... the sensations were comparable to getting tickled lightly, if tickling was made out of sexual pleasure. He decided this bathroom won't do. He made his way out to where he imagined would be the living room. "I wish that Sue's preferred home clothing was a pair of mid-calf leggings and a tank top with a sports bra." He said as he approached the stairway. He thought that would give him a stereotypical "mom" look. The idea of wearing a sports bra and skin-tight leggings sounded *way* off, but he knew that with the way he phrased his wish, Sue's preference will soon become his own. Well, at least at some point in the next 24 hours. "I wish I was wearing that now, except for no tank top." I said as he was about to make his way down stairs. Instantly he felt something hugging his thighs, bum, calves and his chest. That something was of course the clothes he's just materialized. He didn't know the layout of this house and he didn't want to risk being seen parading naked by anyone outside in case they happened to look through the windows. He stumbled a bit after his first step down, like if the steps were slightly too long. In the end they kinda were longer than he expected. Proportionally that is. One doesn't simply loose 15% of their height without everything else not seeming equivalently bigger. Then there was the shifting and tugging he felt around his chest as the inert mass of his boobs wanted to continue moving down before being stopped by the fabric attempting to squash them closer to his body. The shifting and tugging repeated on the next step, if not slightly stronger. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable but just... very noticeable. Jon made a mental note that he should try to see what it's like to do that without the sports bra. And then he realized that he's going to have to live with this now, for the rest of his life. Once again, he felt more heat in his lower abdomen. ------------------------------------------- The living room was simple - a couch, a TV and a tall window / door thing leading to the patio in a garden surrounded by a tall fence. Jon sighed a sigh of relief knowing that he'd be able to... do things... in the living room unnoticed and undisturbed. He climbed onto the sofa, and plopped himself down length-wise, leaning against the right arm rest. Once again he had to remind himself that his initial impression of "Wow, this is a large sofa" was actually likely an illusion due to his now much shorter stature. He paused for a bit and took in the sight from his new point of view remembering how unusual this situation was. There was two fists worth of goddamned *flesh* on his chest, squished as flat as it would go by a pastel-blue contraption of elastic fabric going around his ribcage and over his shoulders. With his head elevated by the armrest, he was able to see beyond his breasts just to catch the lower bit of his belly button - a belly button sitting on an unfamiliarly smooth and hairless tummy which looked simultaneously weirdly narrow by the cut oh his now-defined waist, and unexpectedly round, by the way it expanded down into the broadening of his hips. Hips, now covered skin-tight by the black fabric of his leggings. This body was now his. And this view will remain his for the rest of his life. Jon closed his eyes as this thought triggered another warm, comfortable throb in his lower abdomen. His right hand shot down, once again, and rubbed against the fabric of his leggings where he knew his pussy was. It felt good. And it felt... wet. *"Jesus am I soaking through my clothes?"* he thought, well aware that the answer was yes. He lifted the waistband of his pants with his left hand and a quick peak confirmed what he suspected - he was wearing no panties. He wasn't sure if that was to be a constant element of Sue's "preferred home clothing" he wished earlier, but he didn't particularly care now. In one, long swipe he run the whole length of his small hand against the wet patch on his leggings, a warm pleasurable sensation spilling from his nethers up his whole body making him feel sink lower and comfier into the couch. A blissful smile entered his face. It was time for some self-care.