The button was big and red. Jon wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't been so thirsty. After class, during the standard one hour break that Jon enjoyed after gaining a golden nipple rating for a job well done on a lesson, Jon had returned to his locker to find a drink. Sure, Jon should have been spending the time showering to prepare for his late morning bikini wax, but instead he returned to his locker.
After kneeling down and spinning the combination with his tongue in the warm slit, the locker clicked open and Jon stepped inside. As with any high-school boy's locker, the ante-room was a mess. Clothes and books were strewn all over the place. On the couch, a collection of bras, one for every imaginable colour, was piled up high. Across the room, next to the bar, was a mound of magazines that Jon had been assigned to read by his economics teacher (Titty-Fuck was still his favourite, although he was starting to grow fonder of Deaper Throat).
Jon wiggled up to the bar, avoiding the magazines, and perched himself on top of the mushroom shaped bar stool. A slight sense of excitement filled him as he felt the round head press up against his behind, reminding him of his victory in class earlier. Just when he was about to make his breast-milk flavour selection by inserting his erect penis into the appropriate slot (he thought maybe Vanilla that morning), he noticed the big red button on the bar before him.
The button was new. Nothing like it had ever been in his ante-room before. Sure, at the back of his locker, in the games room there were plenty of buttons. In there there were so many buttons that Jon hadn't even had time to figure out what most of them did yet! The first few days of high school that year he'd enjoyed pressing a few of them, each time being pleasantly surprised by their benefits. He still remembered the first one he pressed, how a big burly man who smelled of meat and cigarettes had come out of a hidden wall panel, bent Jon over his knee and spanked the boy until Jon cried out for mercy. To have such a good experience on his first try had raised the bar for Jon, although many buttons after that one had topped it.
So he stared at the new button. Since he'd never had anything but good times with buttons before, he quickly slammed his hand onto the button to see what would happen.
There was a loud click.
"What the hell?!" Jon screamed. It was as if a curtain had dropped from in front of his mind. Memories flooded into his brain, memories of the way things used to be, the way things should have been. He remembered his family, Karyn, school, all without sexual perversions fully permeating their existence.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" He shrieked, leaping off of the mushroom stool, landing on his heels and stumbling to the ground. He looked as his body, looked at his clothes and began to reconcile the day's events with what he knew to be normal. Jon felt bile rise up in his throat. Had he really done all those things? Had he really touched that man's...
He forced the thought from his mind and climbed to his feet, wobbling uneasily over to the couch to sit down on the only spot not covered in bras. Jon's mind reeled as he tried to come to terms with the memories that he had both worn all of those bras, and that he'd never worn a bra in his life. Sitting down, he held his spinning head, silently cursing himself for wishing himself into hell, and wondering if he would have been better off having never pushed that button.
