“N-no thank you. I’m flattered, but I’m busy with... Things.” Jon gave his best please-leave-me-alone smile, not realizing how heart-meltingly adorable it looked on Josephine’s face.
“We can try another time,” Micheal said smoothly and casually, as if the very idea of being rejected hadn’t crossed his mind. “You can’t always be busy with ‘things,’ can you?”
Anxious shivers shot down Jon’s spine. Definitely time to move on and end this conversation... Or it would have been, were it not for outfit’s magical programming overriding all movements with satirically feminine swagger. He simply didn’t have the ability to walk away quickly, he had to saunter, to sashay, to shake those womanly hips with every tip-toe stride he took.
So as far as his sudden wooer knew, Josephine was very much interested in the invitation—she was just coyly playing hard to get, her sensuous movement betraying her true intentions.
Well, her actual “true intentions” were to curl up in a ball and die from humiliation. Jon was struggling underneath the silky confines, trying to run away screaming, to tear off the clothes, something. But such efforts were fruitless. He was trapped, bound to another’s will, puppeteered to show off his body like some kind of circus animal. Truly, this was a horrendous turn of events— so the exact sort of thing Jon fantasized about. He was a absolutely thrilled that this was unfurling so wonderfully! The entrapment, the humiliation, the unwilling sexiness... It would have been perfect, were it not for one prominent issue.
“I know this great little sea food place down by the...”
Bang!
The clothes were dumb. Like, really dumb. First, they made driving dangerous. Now? They were wildly
swinging Jon’s pendulum hips, seemingly unconcerned with whatever got knocked over. Jon did try to navigate around other people, to not ram right into everything in close proximity, but such actions were apparently too quick and jerky for the outfit’s tastes to even be considered.
Micheal, for better or worse, seemed undeterred. “C’mon, what’s the harm in saying—”
Bang!
“Bathroom!” Jon suppressed a squeak as he felt himself being pinched.
“What?”
“I-I mean, the lady’s room. Excuse me!” Jon forced himself away, hoping Micheal wouldn’t follow.
Silence. Well, as much silence as one can find in the women’s rest room at Trader Joe’s, but it was quiet enough for Jon to gather his thoughts and come to a decision.
He didn’t want to undo a wish so soon, but it was becoming increasingly clear that the sexy magic clothes weren’t very keen on trivial things like “safety” or “convenience.”
A shame too, he’d put a lot of thought into that wish.
“Stop!”
It took all of two seconds for Jon to go from a paradigm of womanly grace—at least, his own idea of womanly grace—to...
“Oh shit! Ow!”
Being flat in this ass and struggling to get up. All things considered, his curvy milf-body was hilariously difficult to parade around in high heels. At least, without the magic training wheels he’d just undone.
“There’s one problem solved. So how do I solve the mobility issue?”
Wishing for a new set of mannerisms would be quick and easy. But it was boring. He’d still have his free will, just filtered for convenience.
So... Full-on auto-pilot? He could design a life and personality for Josephine, and compel himself to flawlessly act it out. Okay, that would be really hot. No influence over his body, uncontrollably acting like a sexy older woman who... No, no. It was way too risky. How would he keep track of the stone? What if he wanted to make or undo wishes?
God dang it! Why couldn’t the clothing wish just work? It was a good wish, too! Jon had put so much thought into both the concept and the wording, but it ended up just being just so terrible!
That said... That didn’t mean he couldn’t make a similar wish.
“I wish... Uh...” Jon had no clue what to ask for. He had the general idea, but longer wishes needed contemplation and proper wording, not the meandering impulse he’d found himself falling more and more into.
He had to put the rock down, take a moment to plan this out—wait, no. Was he allowed to put the rock down? Was he even allowed to stop a wish mid-wish?
Jon eyed the stone. It gave no answers. He could feel his breath running out.
...
Fuck it. Anything that went wrong was future Jon’s problem.
“...That my clothes will gain the same abilities and motivations as prior, but with, uh, human-level intelligence and spatial awareness? The clothes will also be more supportive and helpful in my endeavors of being an adult woman, while making sure I behave like an adult woman.”
Poof!
Was that good? It felt a awkwardly put together. And a little too vague, maybe? Jon should cancel the wish, take some time to...
“GOOD MORNING JOSEPHINE!”
Jon screamed.
