The doctor takes a walk on the wild side

It was just past midnight in the lab when the thought finally overtook him.

He stood alone, the fluorescent lights casting clean white shadows across the polished tiles. The RAC rested in his hand like a loaded spellbook, whispering promise with every flickering line of data.

Tomi was home. The day’s work was done.

And Kekyll was curious—dangerously curious.

“If it can do that to her,” he muttered, “what can it do to me?”

His heart thudded. He moved to the reclined observation chair, quickly stripping off his lab coat, shirt, and slacks, leaving only his boxer briefs and the tangle of biometric electrodes already affixed from earlier tests.

No more half-measures. No more simulations.

He keyed in the transformation himself.

[SUBJECT: DR. JONATHON KEKYLL]
[PARAM: GENDER INVERSION]
[BODY TYPE: **** FEMININE ENHANCEMENT – CURVY, SHORT STATURE, MAXIMUM PHYSICAL ATTRACTIVENESS]
[HAIR: LONG, AUBURN – WAVY, SHOULDER LENGTH]
[EYE COLOR: GREEN – ENHANCED LUMINANCE]
[BREAST SIZE: G-CUP]
[HIP-TO-WAIST RATIO: 0.59]
[HEIGHT: 5’4”]
[BEAUTY MARK – UPPER LEFT LIP]
[LAB ID UPDATE: NAME – JOANA KEKYLL]
[STATUS: READY]

He swallowed, thumb trembling above the activation switch.

And pressed. Snap.

The jolt hit like a lightning bolt straight to the spine. Kekyll convulsed with a cry, limbs tightening, vision whitewashing. The RAC clattered from his hand, bouncing to the floor with a high-pitched beep as the room’s lights dimmed momentarily, the lab’s power grid hiccuping under the strain.

He gasped.

“I… I think I’m in a state of hyperarousal?” he choked out, voice already rising in pitch. His breath hitched—and his eyes fell to his lap.

Flat.

His boxer briefs were empty.

“Oh god…” he whispered, pawing at the soft fabric.
A warm tingling spread across his scalp, like thousands of tiny, ecstatic pinpricks. Then came the weight. Thick, silky auburn locks tumbled across his shoulders, brushing against bare skin, the sensation alien and delicious. He reached up, letting the hair slip between his fingers—soft, voluminous, feminine.

He grinned through shallow breaths. “It’s working.”

Then came the chest.

A pressure began just beneath his pectorals—then pushed. His skin bloomed outward, warm and heavy and full. He moaned as his hands clutched his growing chest, soft flesh pouring out into his palms as his nipples darkened and stretched.

His voice cracked as the growth continued, swelling past his hands, until the twin weights of new breasts jutted proudly from his frame, round and firm. They jiggled as he gasped, quaking with each breath.

Then, his torso. His ribs cinched inward with a tight squeeze, stomach flattening as his waist compressed, narrowing into a dramatic hourglass. His spine arched slightly, naturally, giving his new posture a sway-backed, curvaceous slant. His hips responded next—bones grinding gently apart, skin pushing outward in wide, sensual curves. His thighs plumped, muscles reshaping with a powerful femininity, while his buttocks rose and swelled with glorious excess.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, one hand darting back to grope a now plump, bouncing rear.

Then—another surge in his chest. He gasped, breasts ballooning again, swelling past reason into G-cup territory. The weight was staggering, perfectly rounded, impossibly perky. He laughed breathlessly as they bounced once more.

His boxer briefs finally surrendered, slipping to his ankles as his legs finished reshaping—slim ankles, long, toned calves, smooth thighs touching softly at the center.

A warmth spread across his face. His jawline softened, cheekbones rose, lips plumped with sensual curve. His lashes fluttered longer, darker. His voice caught and rose again, pitch shifting to a gentle alto as his nose slimmed and a faint beauty mark appeared beside his upper lip.

The transformation was complete.

She—Dr. Joana Kekyll—opened her eyes.

In the mirror across the room, a goddess stared back: lush auburn hair falling over a flawless shoulder, green eyes glimmering behind librarian-chic glasses that now adorned her stunning face. Her mouth curled into a mischievous smile. She turned—hips swinging, breasts bouncing with each step, her plush rear swaying hypnotically in the reflection.

The lab ID at her desk blinked:
DR. JOANA KEKYLL, PHD.
Her photo now showed a stunning, composed woman with tousled red hair and a playful smirk.

She picked up the ID card, chest heaving. “Joana,” she said aloud, marveling at the voice. “I’m Joana.”

She arched her back, letting her new body settle into its natural poise. “I’m Dr. Joana Kekyll—and I am a bombshell.”

She giggled. Yes—giggled.

The pleasure of the transformation still lingered, fizzing under her skin. Her nipples were hard, visibly poking against the thin tank top she’d changed into, and a subtle, teasing warmth pulsed between her thighs.

“All those years,” she whispered. “Finally paid off.” And Joana - soft, sultry, genius Joana - was just getting started.