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.
Jon found himself tight-lipped as he considered the reality he was in. It was one thing that Sarah could alter his clothes, and it was even worse that she could re-shape his body, but to be able to affect his mind? He'd have to be exceptionally careful from here on out.
"I'm sorry, Jon," Sarah put an extra drip of saccharine into her voice. "It was rude of me to rummage through your bra collection. An invasion of privacy."
She waited for a reaction, and getting none, continued.
"Those were your bras, though, weren't they?"
A glare. Receiving it made Sarah's smile curl all the more.
"Tell me, which one is your favorite?"
Unbidden, the image of one bra in particular entered Jon's mind. It was a deep red. Molded cups with full coverage. Wide straps. A sturdy, four-hook clasp in the back. No decorations. As the image lingered, the words "simple," "comfortable," and "effective" passed through Jon's mind. Those were the words he associated with that bra. It was his favorite bra because it did what it was supposed to do.
All of this happened in just a moment, and Jon did not say anything out loud. But Sarah saw the look of recognition that passed across his eyes for a split second. She knew that he knew what his favorite bra was. Now to test how much control she had over the logic of this magical wardrobe connection.
"You know," Sarah started again, "there's just something about having a favorite. It doesn't even matter what it's a favorite of. When you know it's the one that you like the most," Sarah turned and took two steps towards the food of the bed, "it just helps to know that it's nearby sometimes. You know, in times of stress." She turned around the foot of the bed to face Jon. "When someone's trying to intimidate you." She held that post for a few seconds, drilling the point home. "I know when I've faced times like that," she sauntered over to the other side of the bed, "I'd rather have been wearing my. Favorite. Bra. Than some random red T-shirt." She flicked at the seam along the side of Jon's shirt dismissively.
Jon's face remained steadfast, but internally he was less certain. He knew that Sarah was trying to do something. The way she was speaking, she was manipulating him somehow. It was like she was establishing rules, and while consciously he knew that he didn't have to accept her rules, as long a he didn't object they almost started to feel... true? But yet he dared not open his mouth, just in case that made things even worse.
"Think about all of the things you like about your favorite bra. Everything that makes it your favorite."
Simple. Comfortable. Effective.
"Aren't those qualities so important to you?"
The image of the red bra returned, again unbidden, into Jon's consciousness.
"Wouldn't you rather be wearing something that means so much to you, instead of a shirt that you could take or leave?"
It was true, Jon was only wearing this shirt because the magic had transformed his original shirt. And even that shirt had just been the first one in his closet that morning.
"You want to wear your favorite bra so badly, you want the confidence it gives you."
The fact that Jon was braless felt wrong in that moment. Jon consciously knew he'd never worn a bra before, but he also started to feel the awkwardness of his position. His boobs just felt exposed, despite the shirt, and especially with Sarah standing right there. It made him feel insecure.
"I know I always want to be wearing my favorite bra. Think. If you had a choice right now, which one would you be wearing?"
No, it was a trick. Jon closed his eyes, and in the blackness that created, he could try to block out whatever Sarah was doing. Simple. Comfortable. Effective. No, Sarah had planted those words there, hadn't she? But she hadn't ever said them out loud. It was just how he felt about his favorite bra. Jon was so confused. So nervous. Any wrong move could lead him down a path he didn't want to be.
And then a voice broke through his confusion. Sarah's voice, whispering softly into his ear. "I can tell you're nervous. Wouldn't it be more fitting to have the support of your favorite bra right now?"
Jon felt a cool wind over his belly. And, somehow, he felt simultaneously more comfortable and more nervous. As his eyes opened, they were confronted with the sight of his own cleavage, cradled delicately in the cups of his favorite bra. Simple, comfortable, effective. Aside from the bra he was topless, but that didn't seem to bother him. In his favorite bra, he could face anything.
For the moment, everything was calm.
Then Sarah's face re-entered Jon's field of view. "Wow, so that's your favorite bra? I wouldn't have guessed! I mean, I can understand," she traced the shoulder strap with her finger, "it's certainly high-quality, if a bit... basic. But I love the color choice. Very bold!"
Despite himself, Jon found pride in the compliment. His favorite bra: simple, comfortable, effective... and bold.
