Grace stumbled through the rest of the work day totally distracted. She kept imagining all the things she could change, all the ways she could ‘become more worthy of her appetites,’ as Dr Acula put it.

New ass, new tits, some big ol’ DSLs - visions of strippers, porn stars and hookers swirled through her head. She had to duck into the bathroom at one point to calm down.

Ok girl, let’s not jump right to turbo-bimbo. Grace closed her eyes, took deep breaths. Let’s just start with balancing things out - and getting some money. A few million ought to do for a start. Enough to quit my job and focus on getting laid.

By the time she made it home, Grace was practically humming with anticipation. She raced up to her room, locked the door and grabbed the heart-shaped bottle - only to realize that nightfall in mid-July was hours away. She’d never been so mad at the sun in her life. Two agonizing hours later, the stupid idiot sun slunk away and the glorious moon rose above the neighbor’s garage.

Grace disrobed and stood naked in front of her mirror. She’d wanted to watch the change this time. With an air of ceremony, she pulled the dropper, crimson fluid glowing in the glass pipette. She took five deep breaths and squeezed the bulb. Blood and honey filled her mouth, tingling spreading from her tongue. She spoke with solemn authority.

“I want fifty million dollars and a beautiful body to match my legs.”

Her mouth instantly filled with the worst taste she’d ever experienced in her life, a burning tire that had contracted dysentery and used her throat as a toilet. She gagged and spit, trying not to vomit, shouting profanity that would have given her absent mom a heart attack.

She lurched towards her bathroom, either to gargle some mouthwash or cut out her tongue, but the foulness faded after a few steps - then realized she was still tingling with the power.

“Ok, didn’t like the wish, I guess.” Grace tried to think, but the sensation was becoming urgent. She took a stab - maybe a compound wish wasn’t allowed.

“I want fifty million dollars!” The taste returned, the Devil using her tonsils as an ashtray.

“FUCK! Ok, fine - no money! I want a sexy body to match my sexy legs! HAPPY NOW!?”

The blood and honey mercifully returned, and the tingling sunk into her chest, throbbing in time to her heartbeat. Grace gasped at the sensation, then gasped again as her body started to change.

At first, she simply seemed to ‘scale up,’ limbs and torso lengthening to match her legs. That was good, she supposed. She was proportional now, a six foot version of her five foot self, but it wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned.

Then her tits started to swell, throbbing forward with each breath, heavier and heavier on her chest. The nipples were hard as diamonds, becoming longer and thicker as she stared. The sensation of growing and warping flesh was incredibly alien - but also incredibly arousing.

It moved down her torso, and she watched her belly fat contract, replaced with a flat tummy that would have taken five years of crunches to achieve. There was a gentle hint of the abs beneath while remaining pleasingly soft - flawlessly toned without actually being muscular.

Her waist contracted as her hips expanded, bones shifting like quicksilver beneath her skin before resettling into an amazing hourglass shape. Her thighs flared out a bit, though they’d already been decently thick from the first wish - just a bit of extra padding to accentuate the other changes.

Grace twisted as the sensation moved behind her and watched her previously average butt turn into a full-on booty, thick and juicy, a magical Brazillian butt lift. She shifted back to a forward position, but could still see hints of it behind her.

Her calf muscles swelled a bit as the changes moved farther down, just a bit of definition that would really pop in heels - then the sensation reached the soles of her feet and bounced back up, spreading out to her skin and racing upward. Blemishes faded and hair retracted, leaving only flawless olive skin.

She felt her face start to shift, but the wave hit her scalp and her hair exploded outward with an audible pop, an extra foot of auburn waves cascading down her back and covering her eyes. She scrambled to push it aside.

Grace stood in front of the mirror, stunned, breathing heavy, staring in shock at her new body. She ran an elegant hand across her flawless skin, soft as silk, looked into emerald green eyes set into a model’s version of her own face.

“I’m the hottest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” Even her voice seemed different, breathy where it had once been simply reedy.

Her other hand moved down to her sex, and she ran a finger along her perfect vagina. A single stroke of her clit sent a flame of desire running up her spine. Urgent lust broke the mirror’s spell and Grace moved with purpose to her bed, pulling out the vibrator and casting PornHub to the TV.

Soon she was huffing and groaning in time to the bimbo on the screen, free hand pawing at her new tits. Just as the action on the screen was ramping up, the inevitable knock came at the bedroom door.

“Gracie, what’s going on in there? What’s on the TV? What are you doing?”

Grace opened her eyes, furious. Every Fucking Time!

“I’M MASTURBATING TO PORNOGRAPHY!” she shouted. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IS HAPPENING!?” There was a gasp from beyond the door and the sound of a dropped water glass. Grace turned up the volume and got back to work.

Thirty minutes and two orgasms later, Grace showered and dressed. Nothing fit right anymore; it was all too tight and too short. This wasn’t a problem from the ‘looking hot as hell’ perspective - tight and short was what Grace was going for - but underwear and lingerie needed to be at least a little comfortable. She cobbled together some support out of a string bikini and shoelaces, then squeezed into a crop top and miniskirt.

Mom was eating her dinner when Grace emerged, and the woman turned beet red when they made eye contact.

“I… I…” she stammered, then broke eye contact. “I apologize for bothering you during your… personal time. I didn’t mean to..”

“Yes you did, mom.” Grace’s voice was firm and authoritative, commanding. “You knock on my door any time you think I’m masturbating, to try and scare me into stopping. But that’s done right now. I’m a grown woman, and I can get off any time I want. You’re not going to stop me, and you’re not going to shame me.”

While the woman tried to sputter out a reply, Grace grabbed her purse and moved to the door.

Mom stood up, trying to regain some control. “Where are you going, young lady? It’s almost ten.”

She turned back to face her. “I’m going out to get laid, mom. Don’t wait up.” The look on her mother’s face as Grace shut the door was immensely satisfying.

It took her thirty minutes to reach the East Village. Grace turned the head of every man she walked past, and she drank in their stares, the hunger inside her growing the whole way. By the time she walked into The Wayland, she felt hornier than she had in years.

Had there been a piano player in the building, he would have stopped playing when Grace entered. She drew eyes like an electromagnet, and she saw several groups of guys start urgently talking to each other.

With a flirty smile to the room at large, Grace sashayed to the bar and took a seat. She felt the effect was slightly spoiled by wearing sandals instead of three inch heels, but none of hers fit anymore, so it would have to do.

She asked the bartender for a glass of water, and discreetly pulled some advil from her purse. The dry mouth and headache were both kicking in, but Grace would be damned if she went home empty handed tonight. What were those other side effects? she wondered idly as she turned to the room, a lioness looking for a gazelle.

The first free drink appeared before she had time to finish her water. A tall guy, handsome, well-dressed with a dark beard, toasted her from the opposite end of the bar - his buddies looking on. Finance guy, Grace figured, out for drinks after some big Wall Street plunder.

You’ll do.

She gave a little smirk, took a sip of the martini (top shelf gin, she noted), then gave the tiniest flick of her head, beckoning him over. He got a slap on the back from a coworker as he joined her.

“Edison,” he said by way of introduction, raising his glass.

“Grace.” She returned the gesture, then locked eyes with him. He flushed, swallowed.

“So, what do you do, Edison? What brings you out on a Monday night?”

She listened to the man babble for a few minutes, for the look of the thing. He was an options trader (called it), and was celebrating some big trade. Grace wasn’t really listening - she just nodded and smiled, gave a few “oh cools!” and waited for the story to end.

“Congratulations, Edison! Well done.” Grace leaned in, cleavage spilling out, and put a finger on his chest. She stared him hard in the eyes, and he leaned back a little. “How about you and I go somewhere and… celebrate?”

He nodded dumbly, vein in his neck throbbing. Grace glanced down, saw his Tom Ford slacks tent up. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Grace led Edison out of the bar, the guy giving a thumbs up to his hooting co-workers as they left.

The pair grabbed an Uber, drove to Edison’s apartment in NoHo. Grace kept him talking, flirting with him, keeping his erection on a simmer. She stuck her tongue down his throat as the elevator took them to his apartment. They stumbled through the front door, and she kicked it closed as she grabbed his tie.

“It really is your lucky day, Edison. ‘Cause I’m a girl that doesn’t wait for the third date. I am absolutely done waiting.” Grace put a hand down his pants.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Mouth slack, Edison practically scrambled down the hall. Grace took the moment of privacy to strip - she didn’t want to ruin the moment awkwardly untying shoelaces. Taking a breath to compose herself, she stalked down the hall, an apex predator trapping its prey.

He was still fumbling with his pants as Grace reached the bedroom, cute butt and erection both visible against his boxer-briefs. She nodded approvingly - lean and muscular, lots of dark chest hair and what looked to be a serviceable cock - then leaned against the door frame and waited.

Edison gasped when he saw Grace, unbelievable figure silhouetted against the hallway light. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

“Oh, he’s not here tonight.” She strutted to him, slowly, pressed a hand to his chest. “If you need to pray, pray to me.” Then she shoved him onto the bed.

Grace crawled on top of Edison and kissed him deep, tongue urgently probing. Her hands roamed frantically, from chest to butt to cock, gently squeezing it and sighing with relief at its hardness.

Edison tangled his right hand into her hair as they kissed for long minutes, left hand grabbing her ass before sliding up her back and down to her left breast. He broke the kiss to suck on the right, and Grace shivered at the sensation.

She released his cock to rub at her clit, breath growing heavy, imagination filling with pornographic images. She saw herself as a platinum blonde bimbo, tits big as bowling balls, getting double teamed by well hung studs.

Her eyes snapped open and Edison froze as he met her gaze. “Foreplay’s over, Edison.” she half growled, “Time to get to work. Time to impress me.” With that, she rose up and spun around, sitting on his face while staring hungrily at his erection.

The man licked and sucked at Grace’s pussy, and she moaned with pleasure. She squeezed her breasts roughly, moved her hips in time to his tongue, watched the precum ooze from Edison’s pulsing cock. Grace let him eat her out for a full minute, losing herself to lust, exulting in his worship - then she leaned forward, pressing her body against his, and took his cock in her mouth.

Fucking finally. Grace worked the shaft, soft lips moving the entire length, tongue swirling across the head, hands gripping his knees. She was indifferent to the taste of cock and cum, but here and now it was indescribably delicious.

Her sucking became urgent, almost desperate, as she felt her orgasm starting to rise. She pressed him with her thighs, wordlessly commanding him to keep going, and Edison took the hint. Time lost meaning - there was only pleasure, animal sensation, a wordless blur of porn in her mind - and then Grace came hard.

She moaned loud and low, still sucking, and squeezed Edison’s head between her thighs like a vise. The pleasure raced up her spine, spreading across her body like lightning, thought evaporating when it reached her brain. Grace was still riding the aftershocks when Edison exploded into her mouth, and she swallowed hungrily before rolling off and collapsing.

Breath ragged and cock still dribbling, Edison got up on an elbow to look at Grace and his eyes were big as saucers. “Good god!” he gasped.

“Goddess,” Grace retorted from her side. “You weren’t so bad yourself. If you’re as good at fucking as you are at eating box, we are going to have a lovely evening.”

They did indeed have a lovely evening. Grace gave him half an hour to recover, taking the time to chat, snack and split a joint. Edison seemed a decent enough guy - warm and witty once he overcame the shock of Grace's sexual hunger.

Grace rode him for more than half an hour before he came a second time, giving her two more orgasms along the way. As she peeled the condom off his softening cock, she was already planning for more.

‘You wanna get a drink tomorrow night?” Grace asked as she tied her panties back together. He nodded, still huffing. She added herself to his contacts, leaving a topless pic for her profile, then said her good-byes and left.