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MidReal Story
I Turned My Husband Into A Beautiful Blonde Bimbo
Scenario:A story about a man turned into a 20 year old blond incredibly stacked, high libido, low iq, female bimbo in a low cut dress and thigh high hooker boots thanks to a twisted genie wish he made
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Alex
He is a successful businessman in his late thirties, married with two kids. He is curious, impulsive, and regretful. Alex discovered a genie and granted a wish to see his future self as a woman. He was transformed into a young female with a low IQ, high libido, and extreme curiosity about sex. In his new body, he struggles to understand his surroundings and grapples with the realization of what he has become.
Genie
magical. He is a mischievous being with the power to grant wishes. He is cunning, playful, and manipulative. The genie leads Alex through a series of transformations to fulfill his wish, eventually turning him into a curious and inexperienced young woman. The genie provides commentary and guidance throughout the process, revealing its delight at Alex's naivety and enthusiasm for discovery.
Kids
They are Alex's children, unaware of their father's current situation. They are innocent, curious, and affectionate. They miss their father and share memories of past family moments. Their interactions with Alex's new female form are limited, as they also fail to recognize him due to his unexpected transformation.
I was a successful businessman in my late thirties.
I had everything: a great wife, two wonderful kids, a nice big house, and a career that was on the rise.
One day while I was working in my office, I got a strange package with no return address.
Out of curiosity, I opened it and found an old bottle.
As soon as I touched the bottle, a puff of smoke came out and a genie appeared in front of me.
"I can grant you one wish," he said.
I thought for a few minutes and then said, "I want to see my future self ten years from now, but as a woman."
The genie smiled and said, "That’s an interesting wish. Let’s see how you’re going to look like in ten years."
He waved his hand and I felt strange.
When I looked down at myself, I saw that my body began to change: my suit turned into a low cut dress and my shoes became thigh high hooker boots.
I looked at my hands and they became smaller and more feminine.
Then I felt my face changing: my nose became smaller, my eyebrows thicker, and my lips bigger.
My hair grew longer and turned blond.
The genie stopped waving his hand, and I looked in the mirror that was behind him.
I couldn’t recognize myself: I was a 20 year old blond bombshell with huge fake tits.
I stare at the empty space where the genie stood.
My mouth is hanging open stupidly.
My new body feels heavy in the front, and I stumble a little when I try to walk.
The clicking sound of my heels echoes through my office as I wobble towards my desk.
I grab for my phone, but my fingers are too long and manicured to hold it properly.
It falls to the floor with a loud clatter.
Bending down to pick it up, I almost fall over from the weight of my chest.
I realize that the future I wished to see is not the one I expected.
I stumble around my office, knocking over a stack of papers with my new curves.
My manicured hands fumble to catch them, but I only end up scattering them all over the floor.
When I bend to pick them up, my dress rides up high on my thighs.
The tight fabric restricts my movements, and I worry that my chest might spill out of the top.
My thoughts feel fuzzy and scattered.
Simple tasks like organizing papers seem impossible now.
"Genie!"
I call out, my voice high and breathy.
"This isn't what I asked for!"
Gripping the edge of my desk with trembling fingers, I push myself up from the scattered papers.
The room spins as I try to find my balance on these impossible heels.
My new center of gravity throws me off, and I sway dangerously, my chest threatening to spill out of the low-cut dress.
Each step feels like a battle as I navigate around fallen documents and office furniture.
The carpet seems to grab at my heels, making every movement precarious.
I pause halfway to the mirror, leaning against a filing cabinet for support.
Gripping the metal edge, I shift my weight onto one leg, testing my balance.
The reflection in the office window shows flashes of blonde hair and exposed skin as I move.
My manicured fingers leave smudged prints on the surface.
I inch forward, dragging my hand along the cabinet's edge.
The carpet feels like foam under my heels, and I pause at each step to adjust my stance.
The dress constricts my breathing as I bend and stretch, forcing small, careful movements.
I slide my hand along the wall, inching closer to the full-length mirror mounted beside my office door.
My manicured nails scrape against the wallpaper as I use it for balance.
The carpet keeps snagging my heel tips, forcing me to pause every few steps.
When my ankle wobbles, I grab the doorframe to catch myself, smudging my lipstick on the white paint as I gasp.
My chest heaves against the tight dress, and I have to tug the hem down again.
I stare at my reflection, a stranger in my own skin, and whisper, "This isn't me."
I hear footsteps approaching my office door and freeze, my back pressed against the wall.
The door pushes open, and a man in a crumpled suit steps inside.
His sleeves are rolled up, his tie loose, and his hair disheveled.
My heart races as he enters, and I feel an overwhelming surge of attraction I've never experienced before.
My body responds automatically - my chest heaves, my lips part, and my hips shift.
I try fighting these new urges, but my transformed brain fixates on his masculine features.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and I bite my lip.
My manicured hand reaches for his arm without my conscious control.
My heart races as his fingers graze my cheek, sending tingles through my body.
I lean into his touch without meaning to, my painted lips parting slightly.
The rational part of my mind screams that this is wrong - I'm married, this isn't even my real body.
But my new form responds instinctively, pressing against the wall as he moves closer.
His cologne fills my senses, making it hard to think clearly.
I try to speak but only manage a breathy giggle.
My manicured hands reach up to touch his chest, my fingers tracing his tie.
Then, with a sudden clarity, I push him away and step back, reclaiming control over my own actions.
My manicured fingers intertwine with his as I press against him, giggling at my own boldness.
The logical part of my brain screams about my wife and kids, but my body moves on autopilot.
I bat my long eyelashes and suggest we leave the stuffy office behind.
My high-pitched voice purrs about finding somewhere more private, while I tug playfully at his tie.
He grins and nods eagerly, making my heart race.
I stumble in my heels as I lead him toward the door, my tight dress restricting each step.
He hesitates, pulling back slightly, and asks, "Are you sure about this?"
I falter for a moment, the weight of my double life crashing down on me, but I nod, whispering, "I need to feel alive again."
His eyes search mine, understanding dawning as he murmurs, "Then let's escape together, just for tonight."
I lean back against my desk, my heart racing as his face hovers inches from mine.
My manicured fingers grip the wooden edge, while my other hand rests on his chest.
The scent of his cologne makes my head spin as unfamiliar hormones surge through my new body.
Though I try forming words to stop this, only breathy giggles escape my glossy lips.
His warm breath tickles my neck as he moves closer, and I feel my legs weaken in these heels.
I grip his shirt tighter for support, and when his hand slides to my waist, I arch toward him instinctively.
I grip his arm for balance as we stumble toward the elevator, my heels clicking against the floor.
The tight dress rides up with each step, forcing me to pause and adjust it.
Inside the elevator, the mirrored walls reflect my new blonde form pressed against his chest.
My manicured fingers trace his jawline while my other hand fumbles with the lobby button.
The descent feels endless as his hands explore my waist.
When the doors finally open, I nearly trip on the marble floor.
He steadies me, whispering, "You okay?"
I nod, breathless, and say, "It's just... everything feels so different now."
He looks at me with a mix of curiosity and concern, asking softly, "Do you regret it?"
I lean against the elevator wall, my manicured fingers tracing patterns on the metal surface while I study my reflection.
The woman staring back at me looks uncertain, but something shifts in my chest.
A giggle bubbles up, starting small but growing into full laughter.
My coworker looks confused, but I suddenly feel lighter.
The fog in my head clears just enough to recognize this moment of transformation.
I push off from the wall, my heels clicking decisively on the marble floor.
Despite wobbling, I take the lead, pulling him toward the exit.
The night air greets us with a promise of freedom, and I step forward, ready to embrace whatever comes next.