Now that his memories of how things used to be had returned, Jon knew that he had to get the stone. It was the only way that he could fix the world. As he sat on the plush couch, surrounded by bras that his wish-imposed memories gave him intimate knowledge of, Jon devised a plan.
There was no way of getting home before school was over. In the old world, he would have just pretended that he was sick and left, but now such an action would have the potential of ending him up in detention. A flood of memories hit him of his last encounter in detention. Sure, his regular wish-induced life was disgusting, but detention was far worse. Jon's first time was spent laundering dirty panties in his mouth. His second had been kneeling down for hours while sweaty, g-string clad men used his face as a bar stool. Jon had heard that it got worse, but he couldn't imagine how.
He'd have to stick it out. A shudder of revulsion hit Jon as he thought it through, his wish-formed memories telling him about his upcoming day. If he could make it through without incident, he could head straight home and fix things with the stone. Unconsciously, Jon crossed his legs at the knee and began to subtly bounce his foot up and down, a habit that the Jon of this universe did often while thinking.
A glance at the clock on the wall told him that it was approaching ten in the morning (the large penis was pointing at the eleven, while the small penis was almost at the ten). Jon knew that his break was almost over, golden nipple award or not. His next class, Biology, was focused on the human body. It was Jon's turn for a bikini wax followed by, of course, a full-bodied make-over. It was bad enough that Jon was wearing the stripper-version of a referee outfit. He was sure that the class would pick something much more humiliating for him to wear.
Not to mention the fact that his tiny penis was still fully erect. Why hadn't it gone down?
He climbed to his high-heel clad feet and swayed toward his locker's exit, pausing only to automatically pause at a mirror and touch-up his make-up. As he shut the locker door behind him, grinding his behind into the lock as his wish-imposed memories told him he had to, he wondered how he would ever get through the day.
