"Wait, I don't want to have to lose too much weight." you add.
He nods his acceptance, but smiles as he pushes the button. "Don't worry I'm sure the John's will love the weight you carry... and where you carry it."
Even as you slip the door closed on the booth you feel your stomach writhing as nausea builds in your stomach. It feels like the worst hang-over you ever had, and as you start to vomit. You try to signal to the doctor that you've changed your mind. Your skin ripples like there are insects crawling under it.
Your hips give a sharp crack, and you feel them spread wider and wider. At the same time your shoulders become narrower, leading down to smaller hands. Blushing you imagine them around a cock giving a hand job. Their petite size will make the cock look bigger. You shake your head to dispel such ideas.
Falling to your knees, you throw up again. Long blonde hair flows past your eyes. It is platinum blonde and very straight, although it doesn't look so attractive with specks of puke on the tips.
As you kneel there, you doubt you'd be able to stand with all the changes in your body. You feel your ass swell dramatically, and you glare at the doctor, guessing this is where you carry your weight now.
He gestures silently as you show him your middle digit angrily. But you next feel pressure building behind your nipples as they swell in size and increase their sensitivity too. Soon you are able to cradle them, and appreciate they need tender handling. But as they reach a healthy B-cup you think that's the perfect size.
But the nanites have a different idea. You continue to develop, until you are overflowing your tiny hands.
Finally you feel your stomach must be entirely empty, a bell tings, and with a hiss the door slides open.
You curse the doctor with a high sweet voice, a bimbo voice that carries no weight, no conviction and no hint of an education.
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