Moving quickly in high heels and a leather miniskirt was easier said than done. It didn't help that beneath Jon's tight shirt was a pair of huge, yet perky breasts. The bounce and sway of his new chest was distracting, to say the least. With each click of a heel, his chest would sway and bob, the faster he went, the worse the effect.
That didn't stop him, though. Jon knew what was at stake. Every minute he spent exposed to external stimuli, the threat of him making some out-of-control wish worsened. Already he'd changed his life so dramatically that it was hardly recognizable. He didn't dare lift his eyes from the sidewalk to see his surroundings in case it triggered another wish.
One block, two blocks, three blocks passed. Soon enough, Jon could see his house. It was a good thing, as having his head down all that time had quite the arousing effect. It turned out that staring down for so long had not only drawn his eyes to the sway of his boobs, but had allowed his nose to inhale more and more of his alluring scent. Beneath his leather skirt, Jon could feel his penis stiffening in the confines of his lace panties. If it took him much longer to get home, he'd be walking with a boner, as if he didn't have enough to be humiliated with.
There was no car in the driveway, and the lights were off. A sense of relief washed over Jon as he realized that he would still be alone. Even though his family would remember him in his current state, thanks to the nature of the wishing stone, those interactions would be far too awkward for him to deal with.
He got to the front door and moved his hand to his side to retrieve his keys, only to realize that he had kept his keys in his jeans pocket. Jeans that he no longer wore. Jeans that he no longer owned. The leather miniskirt, of course, had no pockets. He was locked out.
"Shit," he said, stepping back from the door. Then he remembered the spare key. Sure, it was a cliche, but his mother insisted that they keep a spare under the front mat. He bent over, bending at the knee so that he didn't give a show to the neighbours, and grabbed a corner of the mat, lifting it up. A silver house key lay there on the cement.
Grabbing the key, Jon let the mat drop, his eyes drawn to the large "WELCOME" written on it. His small victory with the key was enough to buoy his attitude.
Standing up, he said, "I wish that I'd act welcoming of whatever anyone suggests to me."
"Damnit!" he swore, stomping a foot, then almost losing his balance. Jon closed his eyes and sighed deeply, again inhaling his scent, again feeling frustrated at how aroused it made him. Opening his eyes, he put the key in the slot and walked into the dark house, trying to count his blessings. It could, after all, be worse.
