Wished This Way? The Remote of Transformation chapter 10 by ThePanswapticon

When the ordeal was finally over, Dylan collapsed onto the couch, still in the tight red dress, with his legs splayed unladylike and his hands gripping his forehead. Steph, now freshly diapered, was leaned against the cushion beside him like a wind-up doll.

“Okay,” Dylan said, “we have to figure this out.”

Steph clasped her tiny hands like a villain. “Oh, now you’re in the mood to use your brain?”

Dylan shot her a glare. “Don’t start. Just… think. How the hell does someone go from being a dude at a bar to…” He gestured to himself, then at her. “…this circus?”

Steph tapped her chin. “You don’t think it has something to do with, oh, I don’t know, our wishes?”

“What?”

“Dylan, come on. I literally said, and I quote, ‘I wish you knew what it was like to be a woman for a day.’ And you—” she jabbed a chubby finger at him “—said you wished someone else had to deal with my shit. Guess what, pal? Both came true. Congratulations. The universe is apparently a sarcastic genie.”

Dylan blinked. “You think this is because of that? We were just fighting. We didn’t… mean it.”

Steph crossed her arms, or at least tried to, her tiny forearms not quite reaching. “Well, clearly someone’s listening. Someone with a sick sense of humor.”

Dylan slumped further into the couch. “Jesus. So this is, like… magic? Because if this is permanent—”

Steph cut him off. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that. This is temporary. Has to be. No way I’m spending the rest of my life drooling in a diaper while you…” She waved at his body. “…figure out how to use a bra.”

Dylan frowned. “I don’t even know where to start. What if we’re stuck like this until we undo the wishes somehow? Do we have to, like, reverse them?”

Steph tilted her head. “What, like unwish them?”

“Yeah. Or, I don’t know, say the opposite? ‘I wish I wasn’t a woman’ or ‘I wish you weren’t a baby’?”

Steph shrugged. “Worth a shot. Wanna try it?”

Dylan chewed his lip. “Alright. I wish I wasn’t a woman anymore.”

Nothing happened.

Steph sighed. “Well. That was anticlimactic.”

A silence settled between them. Dylan stared at his hands—slender, with painted nails that caught the light. He flexed his fingers. Even touch felt different. His skin felt softer, almost hypersensitive.

Steph, watching him, smirked. “You’re kinda quiet. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Dylan shook himself. “Nothing. Just… this is nuts. I keep moving and noticing things. The way this dress rubs against my thighs. The way… I don’t know, I can feel my hair brushing my shoulders. It’s all so… different.”

Steph grinned. “Yeah, welcome to the estrogen express. No refunds.”

Dylan grabbed a couch pillow and hurled it at her. It bounced harmlessly off her tiny head.

“Hey! Abuse of an infant!” she yelled, grinning wider.