"See?" she said, holding out a strappy piece of fabric in her hand, "I'll even give you the bra off my back. I'm giving this to you. It's yours now." Sarah took a few steps away and Jon could hear the sound of a dresser drawer opening. "It's a part of your wardrobe."
The hollow thunk of the drawer closing echoed deeply in Jon's chest.
Another pulse. Then a ripple over his skin, like a strong wind was pushing against it. The wave stopped right over his chest, and the skin there stayed raised. Another ripple, and Jon had defined breasts that moved under their own weight. Another and they were beginning to press tightly into the once-fitted shirt.
"You know," Sarah examined as Jon as he writhed, "everyone always focuses on cup size when they look at bras, but the band size is just as important."
And, as if on cue, Jon could suddenly feel his ribs tightening inside of him, his chest constricting. His entire torso narrowed to match Sarah's 32 band size, now his own 32 band size, even as his breasts finished shaping up to match Sarah's own DDs.
Jon gasped for breath as the changes wound down, only serving to emphasize even more strongly his now-heaving breasts. "What the fuck, Sarah!"
Unfazed by the outburst, Sarah examined her subject with an eager smile. "You're right, this isn't okay."
Jon was not comforted by the statement.
"Your shirt pulls at all the wrong places. You should be wearing something more tailored to your body shape."
Another soft sucking sound, and Jon could feel that his shirt now had more room for his chest, was cut more closely around his waist, and only had small cap sleeves around his shoulders. It was a girl's shirt.
"That's better," Sarah said cheerfully. "But there's something else I want to check. See, someone with your generous bust size couldn't possibly make do with only one bra. I think you need at least half a dozen. But I only gave you one bra, didn't I? So I wonder what I'll find when I..." she let her words trail off as she stepped back to the dresser and opened the drawer.
A feeling of dread overcame Jon.
"Look what I've got!" Sarah popped back into view, displaying undergarments for him in an assortment of styles and colors.
"Sarah!" Jon said, scandalized, "Those are my bras, put them back!"
Sarah burst into a peal of laughter that devolved into a cackle, but for once she did as asked. It was only after the drawer was shut once more that Jon realized what he'd said. Those are my bras. He'd recognized them as his own. He'd never even seen them before, but the words came out of his mouth as naturally as anything. And, somehow, he knew that he felt ownership over them.
The cheerleader sauntered back over to the bedside, and Jon knew one thing for absolute certain: he was in trouble.
