That fucking kid!
Being a teaching assistant in graduate school isn't easy, and it's a hell of a lot less easy when you've got some kind of snot-nosed, budding-supervillain college freshman in your lab section.
For his final project of the semester, he said he had invented some nanites that could completely breakdown and rebuild the human body in seconds. I told him he was a fucking joke and that wasn't science. He swore they would work, and I just told him extraordinary claims required extraordinary evidence, and that he was going to get an F. He was pissed, and I walked away with a smirk. He'd been annoying as hell all semester, always second guessing me and cutting me off in front of all the other students.
I did my normal routine after that. I hit the gym for a bit, then went back to my office - little more than a closet really - and got to work entering the class grades. I was thirsty, so I took a drink from my water bottle. I'd left it behind by accident.
That's when my body immediately began to tingle. I was confused at first, but then I realized amid the papers on my desk was a sticky note in a handwriting that wasn't my own. I did recognize it though, I'd graded enough of his lab reports after all. It was that brats.
I put some extraordinary evidence in your water bottle. It'll be a lot more approriate for you to be such a cunt from now on. -Z P.S. The nanites have some side-effects beyond the obvious, but you'd know that if you actually read my report. Enjoy.
I jumped to my feet in terror, thinking I'd been poisoned. I tried to cry out, but the only sound to escape my lips was a hoarse moan. The tingling didn't hurt, it actually felt really, really good.
But it wasn't just tingling. My whole body was moving under my clothes. Moving in ways bodies weren't supposed to move. My clothes got real loose and looking around I was quick to recognize I had in fact shrank a considerable amount. Long hair fell into my eyes, and I felt odd weights hanging on my chest. They felt absolutely electric, and I instinctively wanted to touch them to make them feel better. The second my hands made contact I knew I had breasts. My cock felt like it was rock hard, but it wasn't brushing against my underpants. As I dug around to try and fish it out, I felt a sudden pinch and the tight-pressure sensation of erection was replaced with an odd hot-dampness I didn't recognize. When my hands finally made it into my pants, there was no cock to be found. Instead my fingers caressed the radiating wet slit that now rested between my legs, and I moaned again.
I stripped, knowing exactly what I would see. It was impossible, but I was finding that it hard to care at that moment. Tits. A pussy. A woman's body, all the way. I was still tingling, but it wasn't the same as before. It all felt good, wherever I touched myself. I remembered how good that accidental caress of my new feminine opening had felt. I collapsed in my seat and spread my legs, touching myself again.
I'd had sex before, but I had not been with a woman in a long, long time. Now I was one. Anything I thought I knew about how to pleasure a woman went out the window as my hand worked on autopilot, chasing whatever felt most good.
And it felt very very good.
I was a chick, I was naked, and I was masturbating in my office, and it was the best sexual experience of my life. My rubbing became frantic and I played with my tits and only the barest threads of my conscious mind commanded me to bite my lip to keep from screaming when I finally came. I'm pretty sure I tasted blood.
When I calmed down, it hit me like a wave what had happened to me, why, and who had done it.
I rushed to my computer and sent that snot-nosed punk an email. I told him he was going to get an A - how could I offer him any other grade after what he'd just shown me? I also asked him to turn me back.
My jaw dropped when a minute later I got back an autoreply. The autoreply said that he was travelling to his home - some country I'd never heard of - and that he'd be offline until the next semester started up in the fall.
My first thought was: What kind of undergrad sets up an out of office email?
My second thought was: I'm going to be stuck as a woman for three months.
My third thought - weirdly given I'd just masturbated - was what I was horny again.
I did eventually actually read his report. Apparently the side-effect he'd referred to in his sticky note was some kind of extreme libido boost.
That certainly explains why in that moment, rather than panicking or trying to come up with other ways of contacting the brat, I chose to masturbate again. It felt just as good as the first time, so when I was done, I went for a third... By the time I was done my wrist was sore and it was dark out.
It was going to be an interesting few months. I just hope he can actually turn me back...