Jon was drawn to possibly the worst place a person cursed to take on the identity of the person whose clothes he wore could go: the Thrift Store. A place where clothes are donated to get rid of. Now if magic had any consciousness it might decide that donated means ‘does not own’. Unfortunately, this particular wish does not have any kind of intelligence behind it, or if it does it is both malicious and thinks this scenario is funny.
As Jon entered the locked building with ease and no alarm went off, he wandered the aisles of clothes picking and choosing. A maternity bra and floss bikini thong, mismatched socks displaying comic book heroes on one and the Mona Lisa on the other. A childish butterfly hairclip and a pentagram bangle. Ultra high acrylic heels not designed for anything but sexiness. Baggy jeans with faded but still there mud-stains, and a basketball jersey for a man nearly 7 feet tall.
Jon’s head swam after leaving the store and putting the clothes on. Who were they? The milky tits in their bra, tiny thong, and high heels they comfortably strutted in said they were a woman grown. So obviously she must be a mother to someone. Her taught ass held up the jeans she normally wears… dirtbiking! Yes, that’s it. And she just put on her favorite jersey pulled tight across her pendulous chest because it was game night.
Her socks may have been a bit mismatched, but she was an artist and fan of all forms of art! Obviously. And sure she liked the darker takes because of her bangle, but she couldn’t help feeling girly and cute. It helps being a practical amazon with her height
Yes, Jo thought, I was just having a weird morning. Now to find my way back home and to my… child(ren).
And across the city, thanks to this new MILF coming out of a thrift store, several people woke up like zombies in search of clothes, identities, and lives.
