{What's happening to me?} Freddy wondered, still thinking in complete spanish. {My body's all wrong, there's a man who's acting like my husband downstairs, and I've told a maid who used to be my cousin to make me look pretty for him!} Then he looked down at the long crimson talons on his fingers, and his face broke out in a grin. "It looks incredible," he said, turning to Sarah.
"I'm happy to serve, Madam."
"Good. Now let's start on my face," Freddy said, leaning back as the pumps on his shoes darkened, the heels growing even longer.
"Of course, madam. Just relax and I'll start right away."
Freddy smiled, closing his eyes as Sarah picked up cosmetics from the vanity. His thoughts turned to Gerald, a fantasy blossoming in his mind which went deeper and deeper the more Freddy forgot about his previous existence.
Brandon waited patiently as he felt Mary go to work on his appearance. Washing, cutting, primping, applying, brushing, the tasks were so many and came so fast that Brandon got lost in the rhythm of the actions.
Brandon gave up following all of what Mary was doing, and failed to notice not only the stylist's actions but also the alterations going on the body Mary was working on. His face shifted: the cheekbones rose, the lips plumped, the features softened, the nose shrank.
"Alright, that should do it with the cosmetics," Mary said. "But don't look yet! You said you still wanted to do clothes to match?"
"That's right," Brandon said, in a voice now that of a mature woman. He was swiftly approaching thirty, and showed no sign of stopping.
"Well then, you're in luck. I have a friend in the department store next door, so if you'll just follow me we can get the perfect outfit for your new look. After that, I'll give back your glasses and we can see what you think.
Brandon couldn't help a smile; Mary's excitement was infectious. "Very well, let's see what you have for me."
Steve sighed, exhaustion overwhelming him. He had just managed to put each of the seven different young children somewhere that they couldn't cause any more damage, be it a nap or in front of a television or reading a book.
He looked around the room, realizing it would take him forever to clean the house. "Maybe in a bit," he said to himself, standing up again. "First I think I need to take a nap," he decided, stumbling down the hall. He was too tired to see that his stomach had caved in, the washboard abs replaced by a sloping tummy that matched up with his new legs nicely.
