"Jon," his mother knocked again on his door and called out to him. "Are you coming downstairs for dinner or not? It'll go cold!"
"I'm not coming!" Jon called through the door sulkily.
"Now listen here young man," Jon's mother, Joan, said sternly, "you get out here this instant and no excuses!"
"No!"
"Right," his mom yelled, "then I'm coming in! Ready or not!"
Joan barged open the door, easily knocking over the chair that had been propped up against it. What she saw in her son's room, she will never forget. Her boy sat hunched over on his bed in the dark, weeping. Great big streaks of tears ran down his cheeks and his hand were coiled around a pair of huge breasts that were unmistakably attached to his chest. They quivered as he tried to draw breaths through his sobs and the droplets that fell from his eyes impacted on the pink mounds of flesh.
"Oo-ooh-oohhhh," Jon tried to hold back his anguish enough to speak. "Oohh moooommmm!!"
Joan instinctively rushed to her son and cuddled him. "There there, Jon. Tell me what happened."
"...and you lost the rock too?" Joan asked, after her son had calmed down enough and told her the whole truth - as he remembered it, at least. Sarah's involvement for example, was not mentioned at all.
"It was destroyed," Jon replied. "I destroyed it... by accident."
"Well it's not the end of the world," hi mom said calmly.
"But I'm a freak!" Jon objected. "I can't go outside looking like this!"
"Well, we could go see the doctor in the morning," Joan said. "Plenty of women nowadays have breast reduction surgery and-"
"Can't be done," Jon shook his head. "I already thought about that. The stupid way I worded my wish, if I get rid of my... boobs, well I might die!"
"Oh dear," his mother tutted. "That's no good. They're too big to cover up, I can tell that just by looking! There's only so much that binding breasts could do, and yours are, well, too big to hide completely."
"But, maybe partially?"
"Yes, but at your size," Joan paused, "do you know your size? No, not yet? Okay, well your size even strapped in would only get you down so far as say, a B or C cup! You really are a busty boy, Jon."
"Then it's hopeless!"
"Not necessarily," Joan wagged her finger. "Your canny mother has a few ideas yet."
"Like what? If I can't hide them or get rid of them-"
"You embrace them," she interrupted. "Pretend to be a girl!"
"No."
"You could pass as a girl quite easily, you have the face for it."
"No."
"It would just take a bit of practise and of course I could teach you all about what it takes to be a woman!"
"No."
"Like dressing up, and make-up and underwear."
"No."
"You'd get the hang of it in no time, smart boy like you!"
"No."
"You're not being very enthusiastic, Jon."
"No, I'm not."
"Would you rather be a freak your whole life?"
"No..."
"Or would you rather people think you were normal? Even pretty?"
"But it wouldn't work Mom!" Jon sighed. "People will know it's me! And it's... creepy!"
"Listen Jon," Joan looked her son in the eyes. "We can get through this. You just need to have a little hope and determination and everything will work out. That's what I've always taught you, isn't it?"
"Yes Mom..."
"Good. Now about being recognised. What do you think about moving to another city and starting over in a new school, with a whole new identity?"
"I guess we could do that," Jon muttered. "But what about Zoe and Mikey? They'd miss all their friends. And I'd miss Karyn too."
"Well, we could... fake your death," Joan said quietly. "No one would suspect it was you if they thought you were dead, would they?"
"Mom! Isn't... isn't that illegal or something? And creepy as hell too!"
"Well, it's the only other way as I see it," his mother sighed. "But look, come downstairs with me and we'll have some dinner and think it over. We can move town, or fake your death and start over here. Or we might think of something else, who knows? But come on, I bet you're starving."
As if on cue, Jon's stomach rumbled.
"But what about Mikey? Is he downstairs?"
"You'll have to see him eventually Jon. We can't keep this from the rest of the family! Best to get it over and done with now."
"Okay, but what if he laughs at me?"
"Jon, he's 11 years old," Joan said calmly. "He's too naive to know what's going on. So yes, he probably will laugh. But he'll also believe me if I tell him he's going to grow boobies when he gets to your age too."
"Wow," Jon laughed, "You are evil!"
"Come on kiddo," Joan put her arm around her eldest son, "let's go scar your brother for life."
