“For… Uh…”
Jon frowned. He… Didn’t actually have a wish. He just sorta assumed the excitement and momentum of having a real goddamn wishing rock would carry over into…
Uh…
Whatever this was.
Frick. Now what? Jon already started a wish, could he finish it later? Or would that break the stone, somehow?
He racked his brain, sleepy mind buzzing with possibilities. He wouldn’t wish for himself, it was still too early to deal with whatever existential consequences that might cause. And he most certainly wouldn’t ask the stone if it was cool with delaying wishes—it might tell him other stuff about itself, and he absolutely did not have the emotional energy to unpack that right now.
So.
Something quick, simple, and affecting something else. Easy.
“That my mom…”
God dang it, already too complicated. Why even bring her into this?
“Wouldn’t have as much trouble…”
What was mom having trouble with? She was grumpy about work stuff, but Jon barely knew what she did. How about… Uh…
“Getting a boyfriend?”
There. Nice and straightforward, totally in line with what a single mother would want. Probably.
Juniper Gibson didn’t quite walk down the hallway, so much as vaguely shamble forward. She was sleep-deprived, caffeine-deprived, and had a long day ahead of her—some new idiot lost the data on a client, and she had to fix that on top of her actual job—so even the prospect of brushing her teeth was long, painful, and terrible.
That is to say, Juniper wasn’t in the headspace to process or care about most things. Like how her son was most-definitely-but-really-awkwardly hiding something for the last week, or how her daughter was blasting rock music at seven in the morning.
Or how her body was very obviously changing.
She barely noticed the sensation of hair ticking her back; her simple bob cascading into long, flowy tresses, honey brown in color and looking like a professional just spent hours on it. Or how her cheekbones tightened to model-esque arches, how her lips puffed into a delightfully heart-shaped pout, or how her eyes brightened into absolutely mesmerizing little gems.
In seconds, Juniper Gibson was one of the most stunning women in the country.
She was too tired to notice.
But she did notice her back pain getting worse—it was always getting worse—but not her breasts ballooning into orbs of enormous, gravity-defying perfection, her rear jutting out in tandem, growing bigger and bigger until the sway of her hips was downright hypnotizing.
Legs lengthened, skin smoothed and turned vibrant with life and color. Even her posture changed, each and every movement laced with some sort of practiced elegance.
She even went as far as ignoring her clothes shift. A raggedy old robe melting to a very short, very pretty nightgown, tightly wrapped around her body and covering just enough to maintain the illusion of modesty.
Juniper Gibson looked good.
She still didn’t notice.
She only realized something was wrong, finally, when she blinked. Because she opened her eyes to find herself in Jon’s room, in Jon’s body, holding a peculiar-looking stone.
Jon looked down and squeaked.
Boobs.
He stopped and noticed the other things too. The nightgown he was slipped into, the body he was slipped into, the hallway…
This was his hallway.
“Oh god…” He flinched, partly at the musical voice easing through his lips, partly at the realization that he somehow became his own, altered mother. “This isn’t… How the hell… I have to…”
Jon had to get the stone. Jon had to turn around, open his own door, and make another wish to solve this mess.
Simple.
But he couldn’t do it.
Because his mother’s legs, longer and smoother and prettier than they’ve even been before, sauntered Jon to the bathroom. Because, per the bodyswap stone’s rules, someone had to live out Juniper Gibson’s life, even if it wasn’t Juniper herself.
