A Classic Tale

Check the date this was uploaded, it'll make sense ;)

Text only:

Verily, Romeo bore not the gentlest demeanor, a trait whence sprang sundry troubles and strifes, which might have been averted by courteous discourse or prudent silence. Many a soul departed, vexed or angered, when patience wore thin with him, a quality Romeo fancied as strength, deeming himself fearsome, when in truth, naught but irksome he proved.

Though oft rebuked in lesser measure for his misdeeds, Romeo ne'er faced significant retribution until that fateful morn. It began as mundane as any other, with Romeo traversing the marketplace, his weekly errand for provisions. Yet, amidst the throng, one figure arrested his gaze—a woman of ample form, her attire modest, yet unable to veil the prominence of her voluptuous frame, a spectacle that ensnared the lewd eye of our wayward protagonist.

In hushed tones, Romeo uttered lewd words, casting upon her epithets of debasement, deeming her naught but a harlot and an instrument of carnal delight. Yet, unbeknownst to him, his whispers did not evade her keen ears; every vile utterance reached her with clarity. For, unbeknownst to Romeo, the buxom dame was no ordinary mortal, but a wielder of mystical arts—a witch, whose intuition had already forewarned her of his ill intentions. She resolved not to let his transgressions pass lightly; in her eyes, he merited a grave lesson in the treatment of womankind.

With a flick of her wrist, the sorceress unleashed her enchantment upon the youth, and swiftly did he find himself ensnared in an unfamiliar sensation—a searing heat that engulfed his very being. Romeo cast his gaze downward, beholding with trepidation the sight of perspiration glistening upon his arms, and yet, his disquiet deepened as he beheld an alarming sight: the strands of hair upon his limbs receding at a rapid pace, disappearing into his flesh. Panic seized him, though he remained oblivious to the fate that awaited the rest of his form—a fate where every strand of hair would vanish, save for the crowning glory that adorned his pate, which, in a curious twist, would flourish with newfound abundance.

His locks cascaded down his shoulders, cascading further down his back, transforming into luscious, golden strands of feminine allure. Yet, the burgeoning growth of his tresses paled in comparison to the distress that gripped him as he beheld the gradual slimming of his once-masculine limbs. And as if fortune's cruelty had not yet reached its zenith, his stature began to diminish, each passing moment robbing him of another precious inch until he stood diminished, scarcely a shadow of his former height, bereft of the stature he once possessed.

Internally, he grappled with mounting panic, though he strove to maintain an outward semblance of composure, lest he stir undue tumult within the confines of the marketplace. Yet, such a feat proved Herculean as his very essence underwent a gradual metamorphosis, transmuting him into a feminine iteration of his former self. Unwittingly, he remained oblivious to the transformation that extended beyond mere physicality—a transformation wherein his countenance morphed beyond recognition, mirroring the alteration that befell the rest of his corporeal form.

Moreover, an unseen hand adorned his visage with cosmetic artistry: his rosy cheeks adorned with a delicate blush, his plump lips tinted with lipstick, and his eyes bedecked with hues of eyeshadow, accentuated by the flutter of false lashes and the precise lines of eyeliner. And to crown this transformation, dainty blue earrings graced his ears, imparting an additional touch of feminine allure to his altered guise.

Though the present alterations proved exceedingly dramatic, they paled in comparison to the impending transformation that awaited. Initially, his virility dwindled, eliciting a high-pitched squeal of surprise from his—no, now her—lips, as her once-proud manhood receded, replaced by the delicate folds of a vagina. Biologically, she was now a woman, a realization that dawned upon her with startling clarity, yet the full implications of this transition remained shrouded in uncertainty, a mystery yet to unfold. However, contemplation of her newfound femininity would have to wait, for time pressed on, demanding her attention elsewhere.

Romeo, now bound to womanhood, found herself resigned to this immutable reality. Though she entertained fleeting notions of concealment through the removal of makeup and donning masculine attire, the relentless march of change conspired against such subterfuge. A feverish heat enveloped her chest and lower extremities, heralding the onset of an unforeseen metamorphosis. As she looked upon her own form, she beheld with astonishment the rapid emergence of two burgeoning mounds, swelling in size until she was endowed with a bosom rivaling that of the woman whom she had disparaged. Simultaneously, her posterior underwent a remarkable expansion, growing in size with each passing moment.

With bated breath, she observed as her once-flat buttocks filled out, approaching the ample proportions of the witch's own. Though she could not boast the same prodigious dimensions, her burgeoning curves left little doubt as to her femininity. Her hips broadened, stretching sideways, while her thighs thickened, encroaching upon the space vacated by her vanished manhood. In this inexorable transformation, she became undeniably, irrevocably woman.

As her metamorphosis reached its zenith, her feminine form surpassed even the witch's in its voluptuousness. Her bosom swelled to proportions eclipsing her own head, while her ample derriere strained against the confines of her attire, threatening to rend the fabric asunder. And though her physical transformation had ceased, her attire underwent a simultaneous transformation, transmuting from casual male garb to a revealing and form-fitting ensemble.

Adorned in a scarlet gown that accentuated her shapely legs and showcased a generous expanse of cleavage, she exuded a newfound femininity. Additional jewelry adorned her person, enhancing her allure, while towering scarlet heels lent an air of elegance to her ensemble. Thus arrayed, she stood transformed, a vision of femininity and grace, the culmination of her transition into womanhood.

As Juliet's mind underwent transformation, fragments of her former life intermingled with newfound perceptions, weaving a tapestry of memories colored by femininity—a femininity tinged with notions of folly and lasciviousness. Though she clung to recollections of her past as Romeo, her consciousness now embraced the persona of a woman, one characterized by perceived shallowness and insatiable desire.

Fondness for the name Romeo lingered, yet it no longer befitted the woman she had become. Hence, her mind, guided by subconscious impulses, settled upon the appellation Juliet—a name that resonated with a sense of feminine allure, despite its lack of prior significance.

Intent on resuming her errands and returning home, Juliet's plans took an unexpected turn as her gaze alighted upon a figure in the distance—a towering, muscular man whose handsome visage stirred primal desires within her newly-feminized form. Despite the potential embarrassment of surrendering to her desires, remnants of her former self as a straight male, Juliet weighed the prospect of carnal pleasure against any perceived shame. Ultimately, the allure of being ravished in bed, reduced to moans of ecstasy, eclipsed such concerns. For Juliet, this marked the inception of her new existence as a vessel for sexual gratification—a fate she embraced with newfound ardor.