Jon clicked his way from the Academy's parking lot towards the main building, the package under one arm and his purse handing from the other. As he neared the entry doors, he noticed one of the faculty giving a tour for prospective students and their parents.
"...only accept students from the highest half percent in their district or equivalent jurisdiction. Now, this, coupled by the sizable tuition required to attend Whitelace, means we must cast a wide net to meet our standards in both quantity and quality of incoming students. As such, Whitelace is a highly international school, with only thirteen percent of the student body being from the United States. Now, if you'll look to your..." The woman paused upon noticing Jon, who had paused a short distance away from the group to listen. "Oh, Madison, I didn't see you there," the guide said, beckoning Jon over. "And just what might you be doing here? School is still in session, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is, Mrs. Tate, I was just acquiring a parcel for Ms. Folkes," Jon replied, indicating the package.
"Very well then. Girls, parents, this is Jon Madison, one of our top students, even by Whitelace standards. Notice he is not wearing any uniform, as Whitelace doesn't have any particular dress code. This arose from the wide variety of countries and cultures our students originate from, which we attempt to accommodate as best we can. Now, if you'll turn your attention eastward, you'll see one of our dormitory buildings. Each student sleeps in one suite with two of their compatriots, and each trio of roommates have an all purpose assistant to attend to their every need. In addition to the attendants, we also have an expert cleaning and dining staff, that..." the words faded away as the tour group headed towards the dorms, leaving Jon alone at the entrance of the school building.
Jon gave a small grin and shook his head, as if clearing away some unseen cobwebs from his mind, and sending his hair, which was now curtained luxuriously down across the left side of his face and reaching down to the supple curve of his posterior, swishing back and forth. Then he strutted up the steps of Whitelace Academy, and into its decorated hallways.
Meanwhile, in a much more out of the way hall, Karyn Black and Steve Farber were passionately locking lips. While Karyn had remained the same as she had been since lunch, Steve had already begun to experience a little of the changes sweeping the students, his hair having lengthened a little and darkened to a deep brown.
However, neither he nor Karyn noticed any difference, and they continued slobbering all over each other with wild abandon. However, out of nowhere Steve began to feel his confidence flagging. What if someone saw them? What if he was making a fool of himself to her? Steve found himself hesitating, not seeming to remember that as "the Stud", he had done that very thing and more a hundred times without so much as a second thought.
"What, are you wimping out on me already?" Karyn asked playfully, before pulling herself against Steve's softening body more tightly.
"W-what, no! I'm just... it's just..." Steve trailed off, and he found himself blushing furiously for some reason. Karyn began the kissing anew, though it became more and more a one way thing. Steve was clamming up, all his smooth moves and seductive tricks completely forgotten, replaced by a bashfulness the old Steve had never possessed. The sort of lustful feelings Steve had pursued for most of his adolescence felt suddenly unfamiliar and uncomfortable. A few moments ago he had been just as enthusiastic as Karyn was, but he could do nothing more than timidly give in to Karyn's advances, his mind fluctuating between guilty pleasure and shame. As his mind struggled with his newfound confliction, his body continued to change, shrinking down until he was just over five feet tall, his skin deepening to a caramel coloring. Soon there would be nothing left of the womanizing jock, and in his place would be someone drastically different
Elsewhere, fellow students were undergoing changes of equal magnitude. Biff, for example, had gone from being one of the larger students in his science class to one of the smallest, now possessing an elfin stature and a height not even reaching five feet. The lecture had finally ended, and the class was given the last few minutes of class to themselves. Biff had decided to read a book, an activity that until quite recently he would designate as exclusively for losers. Despite his relative inexperience in the realm of literature, Biff managed to comprehend the plot excellently, despite the additional complication of the book being written entirely in Chinese characters.
At long last the bell rang for fourth period to end. Biff exited the classroom, not the least bit surprised as he was dwarfed by the deluge of students in the hallway. Normally Biff would spend his time between classes beating up someone he deemed below him, but now the notion didn't even occur to him. He simply made his way through the crowd in the direction of his locker, until a voice in the crowd called his name. Biff turned, and found the source of the voice to be Derek Lettman, the high school's emo. Normally, Derek was one of Biff's main targets, but now neither found it the least bit strange for him to be seeking Biff out. Derek's changes had manifested in an increasingly long mane of red hair that had interrupted his normally brooding features.
"Hey, sorry to bother you, but when is practice? I've completely forgotten," Derek asked as he caught up with his former tormentor.
Biff's head felt fuzzy for a moment, and a voice at the back of his head wondered what the hell Derek was talking about. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked Derek, as he tried to banish the haziness from his mind.
"Um as was asking when softball practice was," Derek explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, despite the fact neither he nor Biff having ever played it before.
"Oh, right, practice is at six thirty," Biff explained, his memory clearing up, albeit with very different ideas than before. "Sorry, I was just a little confused, as I'm also doing Tennis and Water Polo right now."
"Wow, really? Springs must be insane for you."
"It's not as if my Autumns are so much better. Tennis is a year round thing for me, and I have Volleyball and Field Hockey to replace the other two."
"Jaysus!" Derek exclaimed, his voice picking up a slight lilt, "How do you find time for all those?"
"Not easily," Biff admitted,"Speaking of time, I should be going. My next class is all the way over in the south wing."
"Right, I'll let you go," Derek said, "See you at practice!"
As the former bully and former emo parted ways, Jay Duncan was at his locker at the end of the hallway, muttering eloquently about his economics teacher in Spanish, a language Jay had very little knowledge of twenty minutes ago. Since his smoke break, Jay had actually grown a few inches in height, though his was entirely in the legs, which had also become hairless and toned in a distinctly feminine way. The sound of heels clicking towards him alerted Jay to the approach of Tiffany Sanders, who had inherited Sarah's position as bitchy queen bee of the school since her predecessor's change to tomboyish southern belle. The school's larger changes also altered Tiffany as well, as she now remembered herself as the daughter of wealthy bank CEOs from Melbourne.
"And just what might you want, polla puta?" Jay commented, in a tone his previous self would not have dared.
"We're having a party tonight, and I was told you have access to a good amount of alcohol," Tiffany said, in her new Australian accent.
Jay glanced down the hallway, checking for any faculty within earshot, before replying. "That I do, but it will certainly cost you."
Tiffany gave a derisive snort. "You think money is an issue for me?"
"You think money is an issue for any of us, gilipolla? We wouldn't be here unless our parents were swimming in money like they are. No, I favor a more... abstract currency, a service for a service."
"Ah, so this is to be on of Jay Duncan's infamous favors. And just how big of an obligation would I owe you?"
Jay shrugged. "Depends on how much beer you want. I'm not unreasonable, I've just learned its beneficial to have people who owe me. Call it networking, if you would."
"That sounds pretty stupid."
"How did you think I came to get my hands on alcohol here in the first place, with the Americans being so uptight about such things? Now would you kindly vete a la mierda? I'll find you when I have your beer."
Jon, meanwhile, had delivered his package to Ms. Folkes just before the bell rang. He had chatted a bit with Saralyne, then bid her farewell as he took his usual trip to the bathroom. Whitelace no longer possessed any mens restrooms, despite half the students still possessing vestiges of their evaporating masculinity, but that did not trouble Jon in the slightest. Anyhow, he was there to change, not use the toilets.
Stepping into a stall, he found the usual bag of clothing an began to change without question. His new clothing had progressed to being rather revealing as well as feminine, his shirt now a definite scoop necked top that left his midriff bare, his new miniskirt reaching only partway down his thighs. His new bra was a little more low cut to accommodate his shirt's neckline, and he had donned the thong the bag had supplied, despite his previous notions of such a garment when he had changed for last period. His new shoes were glossy black pumps with four inch heels, that matched his skirt, while contrasting with his magenta colored shirt. As with before, Jon found a new pair of earrings at the bottom, and as with before he used them to add rather than replace; The large hoops going in front, the smaller hoops behind them, and placing the two studs in the cartilage at the top of his ear.
Grabbing his purse, Jon walked out and made sure he was presentable. All seemed well, but a curious thought crossed Jon's mind as he looked at himself in the mirror. His clothes seemed a bit revealing, the kind more attributed to the likes of Tiffany than a more normal person like Jon. But then again, the entire reason Tiffany and her ilk was to gain the allure of boys, and their was certainly no one here who would be interested in Jon.
His mind at ease, Jon gave his reflection a warm smile and exited for his fifth period class...
