(Author's Note: I wanted to try something different with this branch, so I'm modifying that last line of the previous one so that it only seems like someone is entering the room.)
Jon quickly hopped over to the mirror with ease, examining himself again. He did a twirl for himself in the mirror, laughing at how he looked in the outfit that he'd put on. He was so distracted that he almost didn't notice the door opening, but the sudden creaking of the hinges caught his attention.
Jon whipped his head around, fear rising in his chest suddenly at the thought of someone catching him like this. Luck was on his side though, because there was no one at the door. I must not have latched it properly, he thought, and then it probably be open in the wind. However, the unexpected disturbance did remind him of the fact that he was currently in his sister's room, wearing her clothes, with no good reason as to why. He decided it was time to get out of there, and after putting Zoe's things back in their drawers, he grabbed his own ill-fitting garments and high-tailed it back to his room.
The walk back to his room wasn't a very long one, but it was long enough for Jon to have an epiphany. He liked this body. He liked the sway of his hips with every step he took; the gentle jiggle of his breasts with every movement. He liked his graceful figure: saucy curves perfectly balanced with a fit form. He liked the soft bounce of his skirt against his legs, and the tug of his tights as they pulled tight and the loosened across the same with every step.
Jon couldn't believe that he hadn't realized how perfect this body was until just now, but then again, it had been his sister's until this morning and he hadn't had cause or desire to examine it near as close as he had today before. In just a couple short hours he had learned that, regardless of where it came from, he couldn't give up this new body. Not just that he didn't want to, but that even the thought of doing so brought a feeling of revulsion similar to the idea of cutting his own hand off. A part of him marvelled at how the detached, comfortable familiarity he had felt when he first changed could so wholly transform into this innate sensation of rightness, as though this was how he was supposed to be.
When he reached the room he shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He absentmindedly tossed to the side the bundle of clothes that was no longer just a poor fit for him physically, but mentally as well. Jon's rational brain began to take his realization in the hallway to its logical conclusion. He couldn't force Zoe to spend the rest of her life in his old body; he knew that. Even though reality had changed and everyone remembered her the way she was now, including herself. Some part of him felt that even if everyone else couldn't know, he still would, and this felt a bit too much like stealing for his tastes.
Even so, he couldn't just go back to his old body, and his power only let him swap things, not make copies. He glanced over at his dresser, and smiled. Maybe there is another way, he thought.
