Karyn walked away from the trailer shaking her head. What had gotten into Jon? As far as she could tell, he was living his dream life. Maybe Hollywood was finally starting to mess with his head. In her short time as a Hollywood agent, she'd seen it happen with so many young talents, finally gaining the fame that they wanted, then starting to act funny, not being satisfied with their lives, wanting to take up meditating, or yoga, or worse... charity.
At least she was finally going to get her office. Sure Jon was a big enough deal to cover all of her bills for now, but what if his career took a nose dive? She was going to have to gain more clients, build up a roster, if she was to survive long-term.
A funny thought occurred to her. Jon did have that wishing stone he'd inherited... what if he'd used it to change something? Maybe there was some truth to his ranting.
With a short giggle, she quickly dismissed the idea. Karyn remembered distinctly Jon telling her that he'd consult her as his agent before he made any moves, magical or otherwise. He was a very good friend, and an extremely good client, so she knew she could trust him.
Maybe he just needed some distraction. It was hard for Hollywood types to find romantic encounters. Spending so many hours on set kept them from building a meaningful life outside of work. A good agent could sense these things, and knew what to do. Karyn pulled her iPhone out and began to scroll through her contacts.
What was the name of that escort that Jon had gotten such a kick out of last time?
Jon decided that it was time to leave. If the life of a crossdressing stunt double was so glamorous, he wanted to see where he lived.
There were a number of obstacles to getting home, though. One being that he didn't know where home was. After a few minutes of searching, he found a small black purse on the make-up table that held his ID, which, of course, gave him an address.
The next problem was, of course, that he didn't know the geography of Hollywood at all. How was he supposed to get home if he didn't know where he was, or where he was going? Did he even own a car?
After a moment's thought, he decided that he'd use the stone. What damage could it possibly do now? He was already utterly transformed, and fully immersed in a brand-new life, so one more wish couldn't hurt... right?
"I wish that I could get home," he said, gripping the stone tightly. It glowed briefly, then faded to its normal dull sheen. Then he waited for knowledge to flood his brain, but no knowledge came. He dropped the stone into the purse, waited another minute, still nothing.
Then, as if he was possessed, his body began to move on its own. First it crossed to the wardrobe, stripped the shirt and shorts off, grabbed a tight black minidress, and squeezed into it. Next he bent to retrieve a pair of high-heeled shoes that he slipped on. Pausing at the full body mirror, Jon's body applied a generous amount of red lipstick from his clutch, blew his reflection a kiss, and wiggled out of the trailer.
His wiggling walk continued as he crossed the film lot, waving to people who greeted him from far away, pausing to kiss each cheek of those who greeted him from nearby. Soon he approached a parking lot. His hand reached into the clutch and grabbed a set of keys. As he neared a red Volkswagen, his fingers pressed the unlock button, his legs climbed inside, and Jon's hands and feet began the motions of driving.
So many turns, so many miles, Jon flew through the California streets. Since his body was on autopilot, he stopped paying attention to the directions. He wouldn't remember anyway, since the distance he crossed was soon too far to track. Instead he allowed his eyes to wander. The car was nice, not too up-class, but well kept up. It had a pleasant, flowery smell to it, one that could be attributed, Jon figured, to an air freshener located somewhere beyond where his body would allow his eyes to turn. The passenger seat held a script from the movie he was working on with Scarlett.
As the minutes ticked by, Jon began to feel bored. Jon's body must have felt bored, too, so his right hand reached out and turned on the radio. An obnoxious dance song by some female pop starlet began playing very loudly. If Jon had control of his body he would have quickly turned it off. Instead his hand turned it up, while a smile formed on his face. Soon he was singing along at the top of his lungs, while bouncing and dancing to the beat. His breasts, while not technically part of him, caused strange sensations as the jumped up and down in his minidress.
The song ended, another began. His body dance and sang. This repeated over and over until, suddenly, Jon's body turned the car into a driveway, put the engine in park, and turned off the ignition.
The keys dropped.
Jon grabbed them.
He had control again! His body was his!
Well, technically not his, but he at least had control of it!
Jon opened the door, and unsteadily stood on his heeled shoes. An average bungalow stood before him, lights off, curtains drawn.
"Home sweet home," he told himself and walked to the front door.
A key from his purse unlocked the deadbolt, and the door swung easily open. He stepped inside, turned on the light, and closed the door behind him. He was eager to explore the house, then to have a good night's sleep. Before he could, though, the sound of a doorbell rang through the hallway he was standing in. Turning around to open the door, he found waiting for him...
