Magic Prank - TG
Tags: Inanimate, Statue TF, Object TF, Caption, Forced, Gender bend, Feminization, Petrification, MTF
DescriptionIf you want to make a suggestion or have an unique idea? Join the Discord Server. Maybe there is a giveaway so don't miss it! Psss the uncensored versions are there as well!Magic Prank - TGNorthern Silvos Academy of Arcane Studies sat on a hill outside of town, a sprawling complex of old…
Northern Silvos Academy of Arcane Studies sat on a hill outside of town, a sprawling complex of old stone buildings connected by covered walkways and surrounded by gardens that changed color depending on which department was running experiments that week. The air always smelled like ozone and old books and something faintly sweet, like burnt sugar, which was the residue of low-level enchantments leaking from the practice halls. It was a prestigious school. Six years of study to earn a full license. Only the top applicants got in. Nolan was a second-year student. Twenty years old, average height, thin, with messy dark hair and the kind of face that people forget immediately after looking at it. He wore his academy uniform slightly too large, the grey blazer hanging off narrow shoulders, the trousers always a little too long. He had brown eyes that stayed fixed on the floor during conversations and a voice so quiet that professors asked him to repeat himself at least three times per lecture. He was smart. Really smart. Top of his class in theoretical enchantment and rune architecture. But socially, he was invisible, the kind of guy who sat in the back corner of every room and flinched when someone said his name. He had exactly zero friends and had never been to a party. Desmond was a fourth year, and he was everything Nolan wasn't. Tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, with a lazy grin and the kind of easy confidence that came from being good at everything without trying. He was in the transmutation track, specializing in physical reshaping magic, and he was annoyingly talented at it. He was also, by all accounts, a massive asshole who used his skills to prank underclassmen for entertainment. 'This is going to be my best one yet,' Desmond thought, standing over Nolan's sleeping body in the second-year dormitory at 2 AM. Nolan was out cold. The kind of unconsciousness that came from studying rune theory for fourteen hours straight and collapsing face-first onto a pillow without even taking off his shoes. He didn't stir when Desmond crept in through the unlocked door. He didn't stir when Desmond set up a small portable camera on the dresser, angled at the bed, red light blinking. He didn't stir when Desmond cracked his knuckles, rolled up his sleeves, and whispered the first incantation. The spell hit Nolan like a warm blanket. His body softened. Not metaphorically. Physically. His skin lost its color, fading from pale to flat grey. The texture changed, becoming smooth, matte, slightly damp. His flesh became dense and pliable, like wet clay straight from a kiln. His muscles, his bones, his organs, everything compressed into a uniform material that held its shape but could be pushed, pulled, stretched, and molded by hand. Desmond grinned and got to work. He started with the face. His clay covered fingers pressed into Nolan's jaw, pushing the bone structure narrower, rounding the chin, lifting the cheekbones higher. The clay yielded easily, reshaping under pressure like warm putty. He pinched the nose smaller, pressed the lips fuller, widened the eyes slightly. Each adjustment left fingerprints in the grey surface that slowly smoothed out as the enchantment settled. In Nolan's mind, the dream shifted. He was floating in warm water. Not swimming. Just suspended, weightless, in a dark space that glowed faintly orange at the edges. He felt pressure on his face, gentle and persistent, like invisible hands cupping his cheeks. The pressure moved across his features, reshaping the dream around it. His jaw ached, then relaxed into a new position. His lips tingled, swelling, becoming heavier. His cheekbones lifted and a pleasant warmth spread across his face like a hot towel. "Mmmm..." he murmured in his sleep, shifting slightly on the pillow. Desmond moved to the hair. He gripped the short, dark strands and pulled, stretching them like taffy. The clay hair elongated, changing color as it grew, darkening to a rich golden blonde that cascaded past the shoulders and kept going. He arranged it in long, flowing waves that spilled across the pillow and hung off the edge of the bed. In the dream, Nolan felt something warm flowing from his scalp, like water running over his head in a shower. It pooled around his neck and shoulders, soft and heavy. He sighed contentedly. The dream was nice. Desmond unbuttoned Nolan's uniform blazer and shirt, exposing the flat, grey clay chest. He pressed his palms against the pectoral area and pushed outward, stretching the clay, pulling it forward, shaping two mounds that grew larger with each pass of his hands. He cupped and sculpted, rounding the undersides, lifting the peaks, defining the cleavage. The breasts swelled to an absurd size, each one bigger than his head, heavy and full, with perfect teardrop shapes that defied gravity thanks to the enchantment's structural integrity. He rolled the nipple areas between his thumb and forefinger, defining them into small, raised nubs centered on pink-tin
