Jon stood in his room, breathing hard. The rock was in his hand again, and everything seemed to be normal. No pink bedsheets, no One Direction posters on his wall, no breasts on his chest.
"Thank god," he muttered. It's going to take a long time to try and forget the memory of having a dick inside me.
Jon shuttered. Apparently Jon wasn't heterosexual in both forms. But now he was just glad to be back.
He stared down at the rock in his hand. This rock that had been the cause of all this. No, Jon thought. I caused all this. I was just too stupid to realize the power in my hands.
And then Jon had a thought. A thought that does not often cross the mind of a teenager: I'm an idiot and I'm not responsible enough for this.
Jon knew he wasn't ready for the power at his fingertips, but didn't want to give it up to anyone else. Perhaps Jon would get more wise with age...
With that, Jon began the only wish he would make for some time:
"I wish that I would forget all about this rock and that the rock would disappear to a pocket dimension until..."
