Jon awoke the next morning to the sound of bacon frying, sending a deep, delicious odor throughout the Madison family house. The Madison residence was a quaint, suburban affair, painted a somber lime green, and decorated with tasteful orange polka-dots.
Jon had always thought it looked quite drab, and, were he in charge of the recent renovation, he would have liked to spice the place up a little, perhaps adding some of those Gothic archways and flower boxes that he had seen in his homes and gardens magazines. He had presented the idea to his father, who had agreed, to a point, but his mother had insisted on a boring conservative layout for the sun-drenched artificial beach and home theater system for the tenth floor of their simple, domestic residence. It was a shame, Jon thought, but at least he had convinced her to keep the spaghetti trees in the breakfast nook.
He sat up in his simple heart-shaped room-sized bed, pushing back the fluffy, rose-tinted bedspread, taking in the warm, inviting scent of the simple homemade breakfast his mother was preparing. He stood upon the quaint mattress, and began to set about his morning routine. He dived of the bed into his morning bath, prepared, as always, with his typical array of soaps, oils, and hair products, and began bathing himself in his Olympic swimming pool size bathtub. He considered turning on the wave machine, but decided against it, as he tended to lose his hairbrush in the currents. As he washed, he looked down dejectedly at his four petite E-cup breasts, each of them barely even a cup size larger than the day he was born. His father said he was just a late bloomer, but he had very nearly given up hope. It really made him appreciate how bad Karyn must have felt, after accidentally wishing herself those positively minuscule D-cups.
Once he was done washing, Jon took the water slide down to the closet wing of the house, almost tripping over his pet catgirl Maria on the way down. He had quite an important presentation at school that afternoon, and so, after rejecting the idea of undergarments, made his way to the formal clothing room of the wardrobe complex, where he selected his best tube top and his most businesslike pair of crotchless slacks, to best display his admittedly sub-average twelve-inch penis. He pulled down the top to only cover his lower pair of breasts. In all honesty, he much preferred covering all four of his thumb-sized nipples, but he respected the school's dress code enough to reveal the top pair, though not without a good deal of resentment on his part.
After dressing, he put on, almost as an afterthought, a nice set of shoulder-length black leather gloves, and styled his floor-length blue hair into two simple ponytails, before skiing downstairs to meet his family for breakfast.
