1. Well, this is a fine dress I've gotten myself into 2. Named and de-shamed 3. No-one here but us hens 4. Maid of dishonour 5. A groom's undoing 6. Splitting the difference

Story Notes: Note for US readers: a "hen night" is what you would call a "bachelorette night"

I've always had a slight problem with jealousy, it's true. Although in my defense, my wife-to-be Emily also had a known history of poor decision making whilst drunk. So as her hen night began to draw near, I was growing increasingly paranoid. It's not that I didn't trust her, but... well, ok, I didn't trust her. Guilty as charged. Em had been so stressed out with our upcoming wedding, and adding copious alcohol to that situation, who knew what she would do?



And so on the evening of her hen do, I was sitting in our bedroom, fretting and feeling powerless. It was then that I caught out of the corner of my eye a glimmer from on top of the cupboard. I recognised it as a certain necklace which had been in my family for generations. It was supposed to pass from mother to daughter, but as an only child, I had ended up with it. I vaguely recalled being told a long time ago about it having magical powers. I had been a skeptical child, and hadn't paid it much mind. After all, every family has some kooky story or heirloom, right? But I had kept it around because it reminded me of my mother, who had passed away a number of years back.



And it was for this same reason that I stood up and reached for it at that moment. Looking at it in my hand, I tried to think of what advice my mother would give me. Was I wrong to be marrying somebody I didn't trust one hundred percent? Or were these feelings just the dreaded "cold feet"? I was drawing a blank. I grasped the necklace tighter, and said out loud:



"Ugh, I just wish there was some way I could keep an eye on Emily for tonight, to keep her from doing anything she'll regret."



The necklace went cold in my hand, and I dropped it in surpise. As I let it fall, I saw that the gem in the center had gone from dark red to solid black. My heart raced— it really was magic! Oh God, I'd set it off! What was going to happen?



I didn't have to wait long to find out. A sudden tingling sensation raced from the hand that had held the necklace all the way throughout my body. My skin flushed hot and cold, and a deep ache hit me down to my bones. It paused for a moment, and then all at once every part of me began to crawl with motion.



I raised my hands in front of me and looked on in horror as they began to change in front of my eyes. First the hair on the backs of them drew inwards, leaving my skin looking as if puberty had never happened. Then my arms began to change, strong muscles melting away as I watched. I despaired for a second about the months of wasted gym visits, before reminding myself that I had more immediate problems than that to worry about. The entire length of my arms started to shorten, and as I opened my hands I saw them shrink down and my fingers narrow.



All over my body, I felt the same sort of changes occurring. My legs, my back, my chest, my face. I raced towards the floor-length mirror to try to see what was happening to me, and nearly stumbled on legs that felt weak, wobbly, and improperly attached. I caught sight of my reflection, and gasped. The face in the mirror looked like one I had not seen since I was twelve. My stubble had disappeared, and so had the strong chin beneath it. I was now drowning in the polo shirt and jeans I had on; I must have lost at least half a foot in height, and a significant amount of weight.



As I stood open-mouthed in front of the mirror, my jeans slipped from my hips, revealing my bare legs. A single glance at them dispelled any notion that I had been transformed into a prepubescent boy. They now angled outwards at the knee, parting at the top to meet hips that had broadened outwards into proportions I had never seen on myself before, nor on any man. I now looked, I realised, like a skinny, flat-chested woman.



I'd hardly had time to process this bombshell, before the buzzing feeling started up again, this time in my face. I scrunched it up as if I needed to sneeze. The feeling passed and I opened my eyes again. Was my face different? Yes, subtly, I decided. My lips were fuller, and my cheeks seemed plumper. I looked... cute. At this realisation tears came to my eyes, and as they welled up they only made me look more girlish and vulnerable.



As I tried to swallow back the tears, I felt my throat seizing up. I grabbed at my neck in panic, and tried to cry out, but no noise came out. My throat continued to spasm violently for another second or two, before my cry eventually came out in a strangled squeak.



"Wha..." I pulled back the question, as my voice came out all high-pitched and wavering. I lowered my voice by an octave; "what...?". I still didn't sound like myself, but rather like a girl imitating a man's voice. I bit back the question and frowned at the mirror. To my dismay the expression on my reflection's face was an unmistakable pout.



Self-pity started to overwhelm me again before I was distracted by a pain in my chest, and I wondered for a moment if I was having a heart attack. But no, the pain was too specific; it was mirrored on each side of my chest, directly behind each nipple. With a sinking feeling, I realised my changes were continuing.



"No... no..." I cried out in a soft, high plea, grasping at my already-swelling chest with both hands as if I could physically restrain it from changing. But the soft growths beneath my hands only pooled out below and around my fingers as I tried to push them inwards. With a cry of annoyance I let go, and my new breasts swung free beneath my polo shirt. I could only glare at them as they continued to grow, from small peaks into good-sized handfuls, until they sat full and round atop my chest.



They were huge, I decided, as I looked down at them. They filled my vision, pushing out my shirt, stretching its neckline to display my newfound cleavage. I turned away from the mirror in despair and caught a glimpse of myself from the side, then immediately felt stupid. They weren't that big at all. About average for a grown woman.



But, I thought miserably, I didn't want to be a woman, average or otherwise, and I didn't want tits. Why was this happening to me? Was the magic punishing me for my lack of trust? How could I stop the changes and get back to my normal self?



My thoughts were interrupted by more pain. This time the sensation started around my waist and then spread downwards to my rear end and my thighs. The entire lower half of my torso felt like it was burning up. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, and tried to ignore my breasts jiggling on my chest. The pain started to subside and I glanced sideways at the mirror again. My jaw dropped in dismay as I saw my bottom jutting out behind me, lifting the hem of my shirt. I turned face-on again and saw that my thighs had widened out as my fat had redistributed itself into a typically female pattern. My earlier "thigh gap" had been short-lived, it seemed.



Not that I looked fat at all, mind you. I put my hands to my waist and was startled by how far inwards it now dipped beneath my baggy men's shirt.



Were the changes finished? One obvious change was still to come, I feared. I decided that I should try to reverse the effects now before that happened. My breasts swayed again as I reached down and pulled up my jeans. The waistband was tight against my bottom and I had to unbutton it to get them back on— I struggled for a good few seconds with the button, which now felt massive and clunky in my delicate fingers.



I waddled awkwardly in the too-long jeans back over to where I had dropped the necklace. I reached down to pick it up and swore under my breath at the increasingly tiresome feeling of my breasts swinging free. How did women put up with this? Oh yes, bras.



I hoped with all my heart that that was an issue I wouldn't have to worry about too much longer, as I stood up with the necklace in my hands. I drew a breath to wish myself back to my normal body, when suddenly a stabbing pain hit me deep in my abdomen.



The pain knocked the wind out of me, and I stumbled backwards and fell onto the bed. My genitals felt like somebody was slowly squeezing them in a vice-like grip, and I knew that the final change was occurring.



I squeezed the necklace in one shaking hand, and tried to formulate my wish.



"I w... *gasp*... I wish tha... aagh! I... hhhnggggg!" I sobbed and gave up.



Just as I thought I was about to black out, the pain started to subside. My free hand went trembling to my crotch of my jeans, and felt a disturbing flatness. I reached underneath the waistband of my boxers and felt what was left of my penis shrinking between my fingers. I reached lower, but instead of testicles my fingertips traced the familiar outline of two distinctive folds of flesh. Familiar on others, at least, but very unfamiliar on myself. I withdrew my fingers as if bitten, and whimpered as I felt the tip of my penis pull inwards to nestle just inside the two folds. I had a... a... I tried to shake the crude words from my head.



Something was shifting about inside my abdomen, and I realised that I was not fully female yet. Soon I would have a fully featured female reproductive system. Ovaries. Womb. The ability to bring a baby to term within myself.



My male identity recoiled at this thought and I remembered the necklace in my right hand. "I wish I was myself again!" I cringed at my panicked, girly tone of voice, while the gemstone remained black as jet. I tried again. "I wish I was a man again!". Still no response; my insides continued their transition to full womanhood.



Perhaps it had to finish first? I waited for my ovaries to settle into their final resting spots, and then looked at the gem, hoping to see it go red. Alas, there was still no change.



I looked over at my reflection in the mirror. How much longer was I going to be stuck like this? I had my wedding to go to in less than two weeks. And for sure I'd be missed before then.



I scratched distractedly at an itch at the top of my scalp. The itch only spread outwards, and I frowned. Then I realised with a sinking feeling that the magic was not done with me yet.



I stood up and walked back to the mirror, trying, and failing, to ignore how empty the juncture between my legs now felt. I brushed hair out of my eyes as I peered at my reflection, and then grabbed a handful of the offending hair. It was definitely longer than before. It had already grown out of its previous men's style into what might be classed as a long-ish pixie cut. The look only made my face cuter, I decided with a sigh. The hair continued growing, and I had to repeatedly brush it back from my forehead. Eventually it reached shoulder length, and slowed to a halt.



I looked down at the necklace and frowned. Still no change? Suddenly something seemed to grab my hair from behind, and I shrieked. I spun round but was rewarded only with the sight of an empty room and the now familiar swing of my bosom. I reached for the top of my head and felt an unexpected cushion of hair. Had my hair been... put up?



I turned back to the mirror and confirmed the change. My hair was now swept back into some sort of fancy bun, leaving only a couple of bangs free at the front. I stared at it. Was it changing colour now? Yes, slowly it deepened from a mousy brown to a rich chestnut colour.



I stared perplexed at the decidedly fancy hairdo I now sported. Then something clicked, and I remembered what exactly I'd said that had triggered this whole thing — I had wished to be able to keep an eye on Emily at her hen do. The magic wasn't punishing me, but simply obliging my request. It had already made me the correct gender to be on a hen night, now it just needed to fancy me up a bit. I swore at myself. Serves me bloody right!



My face tickled all over for a second time and I closed my eyes again. Hadn't my face already changed? I felt something brush my lips and my eyes flew back open. I gasped. My face looked completely different again. My eyes looked bigger and darker somehow, and my lips were a deep shade of red. I blinked in confusion, and noted my long dark lashes fluttering. My face had been expertly made up, was all. But what a change! I looked... well, I looked beautiful.



I blushed at the thought, under my foundation. "Beautiful" was a word I should be using to describe my fiancée, not myself. I frowned at my reflection, and my makeup exaggerated the expression.



A sharp pain in my left ear made me cry out, followed by one in my right. Out of nowhere a silver drop earring descended from each earlobe, terminating in a red heart-shaped stone. They swung with an unfamiliar weight as I tipped my head from one side to the other.



I reached for my ear to undo the annoying jewellery, then halted at the sight of my fingernails. They must have been at least an inch long, now, and painted the same shade of red as my lips. The colour was matched again by a large ruby that sat in a silver ring around my ring finger. My right ring finger, thankfully. When had that happened? I must have been distracted by other changes.



I glanced down and noticed yet more changes were happening at that very moment. My shirt had already changed colour from white to a light pink, and was now slowly changing shape; the sleeves crawling up my arms and the waist pulling in to hug my curves. I grabbed a handful of the fabric, and noticed how the coarse cotton had become softer and stretchier.



A disturbing sensation of something shifting around my bottom caught my attention, and I hiked up my shirt to see what was going on. Pulling my jeans away from my waist, I watched my boxer shorts shrinking into a far briefer shape, and then tightening, until they rested softly against my new anatomy. The top edge exploded into a lacy hem, finished off by a tiny bow at the top. The bottom edge underwent a similar transformation, and I noted with annoyance that it now came halfway up my butt cheeks at the back.



The waistband of my jeans started to soften in my fingers, and I felt the fabric tightening against my thighs, then calves, and finally around my feet. I lifted one foot and saw the leg hole of the jeans close up around my toes. My hands went to my waist button as if to escape, but it had long since disappeared. I let go of the waistband and felt it snap back not to my hips, but my waist proper.



As I watched them change colour to a translucent black, I realised that they were turning into tights. In shocked wonder, I ran a fingertip along the unfamiliar fabric, heard the faint hiss of long nails against nylon, and felt the tickle of it against bare skin beneath.



I looked in the mirror, and the picture that presented itself took my breath away. A young woman stood there, attractive and partially dressed. Her bright pink top was bunched up around her waist, and her lacy black underwear was clearly visible through her tights. It was an undeniably sexy sight, and I felt like some peeping tom catching her in this state of undress. I thought of Emily, and felt guilty. She was the only woman I should have been looking at in her underwear.



I shook my head to try to clear this thought away. I wasn't ogling any woman here— this was my own body in the mirror, no matter how altered. All the same, I grasped the hem of my shirt and pulled it down as far as it could go, trying to hide my underwear from sight. The material of my top had become incredibly soft and stretchy, and slid easily down over my hips and bottom. It came to a halt around a third of the way down my thighs, and I had to admit that it was now too long to qualify as a shirt. I was wearing a dress.



I stared at the garment in question. It had now reached a deep scarlet in colour, and it was very different in shape than it had been. It stretched taut against my waist, and the v-neck had deepened to show off more than a hint of cleavage. The sleeves had disappeared completely now, leaving my arms and shoulders feeling quite naked, and the collar had turned into something more like a decorative frill.



I felt the fabric continue to shrink away at the back, and finally drop away entirely. I turned around to examine it in the mirror. What was this style of dress called again, a halter neck? Altogether too much of my back was left bare, and the cut seemed to draw the eye down to my rear end, as if to emphasisie how round and sexy it had become.



I looked down at the front of the dress and frowned. The outline of each of my nipples was clearly visible through the soft fabric. Skimpy was one thing, but this was downright indecent. As if on cue, an inner layer of material started to thicken and curve around my breasts. A line of fabric tightened up underneath them, and I felt my breasts being gently cupped and lifted.



I stared at the mirror sadly. Reflected back at me was a vision of pure femininity. My face was pretty, and made prettier by the artful makeup and hairstyle I sported. The bright red party dress I wore hugged every curve of my new body, showing off a decent chest, trim waist, and broad hips. Smoky tights clung to my legs, making them look slim and sexy.



I'd wished to be able to keep an eye on Emily for her hen night. Well, I was now fully qualified to accompany her.



I glared at the necklace in my hand, and then saw that the gem had turned back to its usual red colour. Finally, it was done with me! I raised it in front of my face, took a deep breath, and addressed it in a high, clear voice:



"I wish I was a man again."



I waited a good few seconds, hoping to feel another transformation, but nothing happened. The necklace remained stubbornly red, ignoring my wish. It seemed it had no intention of changing me back. For now, at least, I was stuck like this.