Transform Zayn The Remote of Transformation chapter 4 by deleted_user

Ethan’s finger bypassed Trevor and Mr. Kim, locking onto Zayn Rivera across the street. Zayn was currently bent over the open hood of his Honda Civic, his perfectly sculpted traps glistening under the streetlamp.

"Sorry, buddy," Ethan whispered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Time to see how the other half lives."

He lined up the crosshairs and squeezed the trigger. The device didn't made a strange sound - Blomp - and a pulse of iridescent pink light rippled across the asphalt, striking Zayn dead in the center of his shirtless back.

Zayn stiffened instantly. He dropped his wrench, the heavy metal clattering loudly against the engine block. For a second, nothing happened. Then, the transformation hit like a runaway freight train.

"What the hell...?" Zayn gasped, his deep, rumbling voice suddenly cracking, jumping an octave into a sultry, breathless alto.

Zayn clutched his stomach as his center of gravity aggressively violently shifted. His broad, muscular shoulders began to cave inward, narrowing into a delicate, elegant frame. The thick hair on his arms vanished into smooth, olive skin. Ethan watched in absolute awe through the blinds as Zayn's ripped, six-pack abs softened into a flat, supple midriff, while his hips flared outward with a sudden, violent curves that threatened to burst right through his low-riding jeans.

But the real shockwave hit above the waist. Zayn stumbled backward, grabbing his chest as two heavy, perfectly formed mounds ballooned outward. His pectoral muscles completely dissolved, replaced by a pair of bouncing, full D-cup breasts that strained against the laws of gravity, their dark nipples hardening instantly in the crisp evening air.

Zayn’s jaw dropped. His rugged beard stubble receded into poreless, flawless skin. His jawline softened, his lips plumped into a glossy, seductive pout, and his short cropped hair suddenly cascaded down his shoulders in thick, tumbling waves of raven silk.

Within thirty seconds, the neighborhood heartthrob was gone. In his place stood a drop-dead gorgeous, jaw-droppingly hot brunette woman, panting heavily and shivering in nothing but a pair of impossibly loose, sagging denim jeans.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" Zayn shrieked, looking down at his new, massive cleavage in sheer terror. He cupped his own breasts, squeezing them in utter disbelief. "What is happening to me?! Where are my balls?!"

Zayn spun around wildly, looking at the empty street, completely oblivious to Ethan watching from the dark window upstairs. Panic-stricken and deeply alarmed, the newly minted bombshell grabbed the edges of his jeans—now gaping wide at the waist—and shuffled frantically back toward his front door, his new hips swaying hypnotically with every terrified step.

Upstairs, Ethan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his jaw practically glued to the floorboards. The Morphisizer worked. And it worked very well.