"Took you long enough," Sarah said while she lounged on Jon's bed reading a Seventeen magazine. She idly tossed it beside her and sat up to look at her plaything. "You look a mess. Clean yourself up."
Jon stood dumbfounded. How could anyone be so heartless? Sarah didn't show a lick of compassion for the girl who stood before her, obviously a wreck.
"Oh never mind," the cheerleader grunted, annoyed at the delay, "I'll do it."
Jon glanced into the mirror across from him and saw that the mascara that had previously run down his face had now been redone. His eyes were no longer red and his hair had been tidied.
Oh, and his boobs were bigger.
"Sarah, come on. Can we take a break for the night?" His voice squeaked in way he had not yet gotten used to. Sure, he knew it was temporary, but the last task she had given him had felt a little too real. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to shake that trauma after the 48 hours were done.
"Jon, Jon, Jon," Sarah now stood and approached him, "my little plaything. How many times do we have to go over this? You're mine, and I'll do what I want. I think that little outburst of yours deserves a little punishment. Don't you?"
"What?"
"I knew you'd agree. Your next task will be..."
