It turned out Jillian's room was the second door on the right. It was spacious and had two windows that looked out over the front yard and the street beyond. Jillian crossed over to the window and peered outside. If she squinted hard she could just make out Moose's lumbering form turning the corner at the end of the street. Jillian sighed, but the noise came out half whimper. Moose had turned her whole life upside down and she couldn't even hate him for it because of his perverted wish. What kind of guy turned another guy into a girl and then tried to go out with them?
With a little hmmph! of frustration Jillian spun away from the window and faced the room that would be hers for the forseeable future. It was most definitely not what she had been expecting. Initially, she had thought it would just be a feminized version of her old room, but a quick glance told Jillian that her new life as a Farber must have been radically different than that of Jon Gibson.
Jon had always been something of a geek. He had never been fat and awkward like, say, Leonard Drullers, nor was he cursed with raging pimples and snaggle teeth like Aaron Westberg, but Jon was still excluded from the school's social elite, mostly due to his excessive enthusiasm for things like Star Wars, X-Men, and Batman. He spent what little money he had on comic books, action figures, and videogames, which meant his room had been packed with memorabilia devoted to his interests.
Obviously, Jillian's new room revealed markedly different tastes from those of Jon. It was darker, more somber, almost Victorian. The chest of drawers, vanity table and the monstrous canopied four poster bed were all stained a dark brown that was almost black. The bookshelves were crowded with books of all things, instead of Jon's old action figures. Poe, Shelley, Byron, Chaucer, Mallory, Shakespeare, ee cummings, Jillian's tastes seemed to run to poetry, which had never been Jon's thing. Lots of flowery hard to understand songs without any music.
There were also dozens upon dozens of fantasy novels, JRR Tolkein, Robert E Howard, Andre Norton, Ursla K LeGuin, and several far less literary romance novels all with covers depicting women in low-cut bodices or clinging gowns about to be ravished by over-muscled morons with mullets. Jon had thought the fantasy genre was just about the most retarded thing going. Elves, fairies, unicorns, knights in shining armor, it was all so stupid. At least sci-fi stuff could possibly happen even if it was hundreds of years from now. Apparently, Jillian loved it.
Still, even that stuff wasn't as bad as the pile of romance novels spilling out from under the bed. Jillian slid one aside with the toe of her shoe, but things didn't get any better, Bride of the Barbarian made way for Shackles of Love and The Mercenary's Woman. On first seeing them Jillian had been pleased to note there were even a few comic books on one shelf, but a quick perusal of the titles confirmed they were as bad as everything else; Bettie and Veronica, Love and Rockets, Heartbreak Comics, Secrets of the Sinister House of Love, Red Sonja, Shanna the She-Devil, and Wonder Woman. Lots of girly romantic stuff sprinkled with a few scantily clad amazonian heroines.
All this stuff is mine now. Jillian felt a little nauseous.
Her eyes flicked up to the one major piece of artwork dominating the room. There were photos in frames on the vanity and a riot of photos were stuck into the either side of the mirror's frame. In between the two windows there were glass cases bearing carefully preserved specimens of flora and fauna, pressed and dried leaves, delicate moths carefully impaled on needles and mounted above cards with their scientific names. These were the little touches. Directly opposite the bed was a huge print of some fantasy painting, the major theme of the room if Jillian had to guess, and she did have to, because she had no memories of her new life as Jillian.
It was as much a monstrosity in its way as was the gigantic canopied bed, easily poster sized, maybe bigger. The artist was Simon Bisley, someone the Jon still inside Jilian recognized from his old comics, though neither she nor he had ever seen this piece before. It was typical of Bisley's work, hyperstylized and violent, exagerratedly sexual. A hulking, grossly muscled warrior, his gigantic triple-bladed axe slung over one shoulder, stood atop the hacked up carcass of a dead alien. Crouching at his feet, clinging to his leg, was a mostly-naked woman with wild black hair, her prodigious backside on display in a tiny thong. She was looking back over her shoulder with the vertically slit eyes of a cat and licking her pouty lips. Blood was spattered across her big ass and powerful thighs, and more blood covered her clawlike hands up to the wrist.
Jillian realized the implication was that the submissive female figure had actually killed the beast beneath the warrior. On the heels of that she also made the connection that her new self identified with the woman in the painting. It made a certain sense, black hair, full lips, big booty, fantasy setting. This was probably how Jillian, a girl with an apparently very rich fantasy life, liked to imagine herself. More disturbing was the fact that the fantasy woman was clinging to some steroid jockey's leg. Reality, it seemed, was conforming to Moose's wish.
Mike had wished she would like him enough to go out with him and so the stone had conveniently explained her fascination with the burly footballer through the bookish Jillian's collection of soft-core sword-and-sorcery novels. Moose was just as heroically proportioned as any of the male models posing for the painted paperback covers. A brief image of him wearing nothing but a loincloth, sword in one hand, flashed through her mind.
Jillian's cheeks felt warm and she realized she was understandably embarassed. At least she hoped that was all that it was. Further exploration yielded a private bathroom off of her bedroom, complete with shower. A quick look in the mirror confirmed she was blushing. Jillian's eyes dropped from her face, her lips, down to her breasts, the trim little waist.
She dithered for a second, realized there was no sense in putting it off. Moose would be back soon. She might as well be refreshed and in a new set of clothes for their date. Besides, though Jillian hated to admit it, she was very curious to see what this body looked like naked.
Date.
The young woman stopped halfway through pulling her t-shirt off and frowned. She didn't have to do this, not really. If she stopped and thought about it she knew that Moose wished "Jillian really likes me and will go out with me." That meant she had to go out with him at some point, but she didn't have to do it right away! She could call Moose right now and cancel, and that didn't mean she didn't like him! In the space of an hour she already knew him better than she ever had as Jon. Jillian's heart skipped a beat and she let out a thrilled little laugh, realizing she still had some control over her fate. She just might beat this thing yet.
All of which meant that she wasn't going out with Moose because she had to. She was doing it because she wanted to, though probably not in the way Moose was thinking. Moose was the only person who still remembered who she was and he wanted to find the stone as badly as she did, again not for the same reasons. As long as she looked the way she did she could probably coax Moose into doing whatever. All of which was good because Moose had resources she could use not least of which was his physical strength and intimidating presence.
Didn't he have a car too? That might be important, because there was only one car in the driveway and it looked like Mrs. Farber's. Jon or Jillian, male or female, I still have no ride. The Farbers lived on the far side of Lake Pointe. Getting back to her old house on foot, in the hopes that the stone had passed to Zoe in Jon's absence, meant a long, long walk around the edge of Lake Farson to the older neighborhood where the Gibsons still lived. Smiling for the first time since this craziness got started Jillian resumed removing her clothes, a small smile on her lips and a calculating look in her eye.
Skinning out of the t-shirt, Jillian peeked into the mirror and gave a satisfied grunt. Her tan was almost literally flawless and the lacy black bra encased two of the ripest, roundest, perkiest breasts she had ever seen. The shame of it was that they were attached to her. Jillian resisted the urge to touch them. She wasn't ready for that yet, but she did experimentally run her tiny hands down the smoothness of her now trim little waist, eyebrows wrinkling a little at the unaccustomed (and dramatic) flare outward at her hips. Just as she was about to sweep her hands further down and back Jillian stopped herself. Instead she decided a quick look at her profile would be better, less like owning this new body, and wriggled out of the slightly too tight black jeans. She looked.
Oh my god, Jillian swallowed hard, it is freaking HUGE.
Crouch. Stand up straight. Crouch. Stand up straight. Wiggle once, then twice, a quick bounce the way girls sometimes did in rap videos. Jillian Farber definitely had some junk in her trunk. Frowning, the young woman stepped out of her jeans, awkwardly hugging her elbows. Jon had been more than famliar with the old saw "cushion for the pushin'," but as Jillian she found it embarassing. Also, it was depressing to realize this was the closest she had ever been to a hot girl in her underwear. With the stone she could have had anything. Now she was stuck like this.
Of course, she would have done anything to get with a girl like her too. Maybe the same was true of Moose. He was no virgin, that was for sure. Jon had heard some loose talk in the locker room that Moose bagged Tiffany Sanders along with the rest of the football team after a big game. Jillian might have been able to lead the old Jon around by the nose like some lovesick puppy, but Moose might require more - - direct enticements. That was the question. How far was she willing to go to get back the stone? To get back her old life?
Jillian's expression in the mirror grew deadly serious, crystal blue eyes clouded with anger. The full pouty lips produced a prodigious frown. In a sudden frenzy Jillian wrestled herself out of the bra and panties, stood before the mirror naked, breasts heaving, her breathing manic, almost panicky. The sight of her new pussy chilled and terrified her. Penis goes in, baby comes out. The plump pubic mound and its well tended landing strip was somehow obscene.
She knew then that she would do anything to get the stone back. Lie. Cheat. Steal. And when she did get it back, well, Jillian had mixed feelings about that. She suspected Moose wasn't a bad guy at heart, just imitating more socially successful creeps like Biff. He did try to take the stone and his wish was completely unforgivable, but Jillian couldn't really blame him. It was ultimate power, after all, just llaying there on the sidewalk. He didn't know it was irreversible, at least, she hoped he hadn't known. Jillian decided she would ask him tonight while on their "date."
Once she had the stone she would discover if he lied to her. Then she would make him wish she had never ever liked him.
