“Hey babe. Miss me?”
Jake gaped at the sight. An imposingly chiseled figure standing well over six feet tall, topped with long, messy blond hair.
Who just so happened to have a really cute smile.
Jake wanted to run away screaming. To get away from this… This… Ripped surfer dude-bro. Instead, he could only watch in horror as he went on auto-pilot once again, performing an act he’d wish scrubbed from the very depths of his memory.
His new body’s tiny, traitorous hands raised to cup the stranger’s face, thumbs affectionally caressing the bristles of hair along his jawline. Heart-shaped lips curled to a wide, loving smile, and words fluttered out before Jake could even stop himself. “Only a little…”
Feet raised to tippy toes. Torso arched forward, pressing two magnificent breasts against the dude-bro’s bare chest. Eyes closed. Mouth puckered.
No. No. No. No.
And release. Jake plopped down, back in control—barring the idiotic grin plastered on his face and hand entwined with dude-bro’s. He tried to yank himself free, but to no avail. His arm had might as well been stuck in cement.
“Ready for our beach day?” Dude-bro asked, his voice oozing with the warm tenderness characteristic of any good, doting boyfriend. It made Jake sick to his stomach.
“No! I, uh…” The faux-woman faltered, mind reeling for an excuse to leave.
Jon was laughing so hard his chest hurt. He’d gotten up to get popcorn, only to come back and find Jake—now Amber, the extremely pretty, extremely curvy, redheaded bikini babe—getting all cozy with her apparent new boyfriend.
This was the funniest thing he'd seen in months. He had to know what excuse Jake would come up with this time, and how the magical swimsuit would screw it up.