Then the arm went numb where she shoved it.
Jon sighed heavily. "Although I guess we should be careful what we wish for, riiiight?" The scolding was directed more towards Jon's internal monologue than to Zoe, who had slammed the door behind her by then. Jon's internal monologue naturally had nothing to add that Jon hadn't already observed, and so, resigning himself to what he still thought would be a slow burn, Jon trudged off towards the kitchen for a quick breakfast. He had only made it to the living room when he had to sit down, suddenly dizzy, and feeling the odd numb-like sensation that started in his arm spreading through himself.
Jon was quickly figuring out what the reader is likely to have guessed by now, and going through the usual erotic processes of sex-changing transformation the reader is likely to have masturbated to several times before. The overly-detailed and intensely vivid verbal imagery of Jon's transformation is related for the reader's pleasure in the abnormally long paragraph below, as is tradition; but those preferring brevity may find more interest in Zoe's perspective in those same moments, and hence it will be related first.
Zoe wasn't going numb, like Jon was; she was suddenly finding herself lightheaded, dizzier, and the sensation spreading through her body had no apparent origin. Said sensation was a curious heaviness, the sort of laggy bodily response one may get when extremely sleepy; but Zoe was not tired. She thought she was tired, and shook herself to power through the usual shower prep anyway, but by the time she was naked and the crisp water was running over her skin, the faux-fatigue hadn't gone away and had only gotten worse.
By the time Zoe figured out something really, truly abnormal and wrong was going on, said realization couldn't stop her from collapsing to the shower floor, her body refusing to listen to her. She thudded down hard, but hardly felt it; her body's senses were all muted now, and it felt like she was only seeing from one eye, hearing from one ear, and when she looked down at her naked form to try figuring out what the fuck was happening the whole scene looked ephemeral, like one of the odd floaty things in one's eye just before it vanishes forever. Not that she was suffering from any lack of sensation; it felt as if all of her was buzzing in pleasure. Even her pelvic bones were feeling the sort of unmentionable feelings bones never felt as they fanned out and widened to something more mature and childbearing, and she tried (and failed) to squeeze their usual supports together as they thickened up into properly meaty thighs. Her breasts felt swollen, tender, and exciting as they ballooned outwards, aching for attention she had no ability to give; but they didn't feel nearly so exciting as the process going on in her groin. It was beyond strange to Zoe to feel her penis, even hard and erect as it was, shrinking and then worming its way deep inside her abdomen like a tentacle, and forming fresh, soft valleys of femininity in its wake. Beyond strange, not least because Zoe was and always had been fully anatomically a woman and hadn't the slightest clue what that sensation actually was, and when it was over she was hopelessly confused, panting hard to catch her breath, and only slowly coming back to normal sense. The ephemeral vision had fully gone away and been replaced by then; Zoe was on the couch downstairs and fully dressed somehow? But she didn't quite look like she used to.
After a long moment, her traitorous body broke the silence for her. "Well, I guess that was plenty interesting," it said. It was just a mutter, an almost sarcastic sounding observation, but nevertheless Zoe slapped a hand to her mouth in shock. She hadn't meant to say that!
Jon pulled his daintier, newly-feminine hand away from his mouth. "...what...?" It was just a soft wondering sound, but his hand slapped itself to his mouth even harder than before. More slowly, more experimentally, he tried to pull it away again, but this time hand number 2 provided reinforcements, clapping itself over his other hand over his mouth.
Now, Jon's internal monologue had a LOT to say about this, in fact it was outright freaking out. What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK! It chirped. This can't be happening! That can't have just happened! This must be a dream, right? I was in the shower and now I'm downstairs and soon I'll be in my own bed, yeah? Yeah! That's how this works! A beat. ...Is the magic even making my own internal monologue sound like a girl? No, that last sentence was in the normal register. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!? Two sentences of Jon's normal register was followed by his internal monologue shrieking like a scared little girl.
Zoe pulled her hands away from her mouth in sudden panic. "Get out of my head!" she commanded aloud. "Get out, get out, get OUT! Motherfucker, my best friend is a witch and she's gonna banish you to the deepest part of hell's asshole if you don't stop this, right now!" Zoe was on her feet and hyperventilating, looking around as if she expected to see a ghost in the corners of the room. There was nothing to see.
Jon forced their body to take a deep breath. "...Zoe?" Hand, Mouth, Slap.
I MEAN IT! Zoe tried making her internal monologue sound (well, "sound") as threatening as possible, but really it just made her seem as scared as she felt. SHE HAS A OUIJA BOARD AND CAN USE IT LIKE A DAMN CELLPHONE, SO YOU BETTER STOP BEFORE SHE CALLS GHOST 911! ...Zoe, it's me. It's Jon. LIKE HELL IT IS!
Their body bolted upstairs with remarkably little stumbling given the circumstances, and Jon kinda just let it happen. The bathroom door was open, and the shower, though recently used, was off. Nobody was in there. They bolted into what Zoe thought would be her bedroom, and which turned out not to be a bedroom at all, but instead some kind of disorderly storage room for clothes and merch and junk. They bolted out of there and into Jon's room. That looked more like Zoe's room, but it was more of a typical teenage girl's room than Zoe the rebellious Goth might've liked; it was sportier, and the decor wasn't declaring war on the concept of sunlight. They bolted into the bathroom again. This time Zoe was reaching into the space she was sure her body had occupied just moments ago. Nothing. Then Zoe was going to bolt again, out of the bathroom to God knows where, but Jon had had enough.
Their hands had the bathroom door shut before their legs could propel themself into it. "ZOE, STOP!" Jon finally shouted aloud, while they were stumbling off balance.
"You're gonna hurt us! JUST chill, and actually think, please! Who the hell are you? How are you doing this!? I'm Jon! I told you, I'm Jon! And you ARE Zoe, right? ... Yeah. Yeah, I'm Zoe. But, how are you doing this? I'm not doing anything! Okay? Nobody's trying to hurt you here. Are you sure? I... Well, I wouldn't hurt me, obviously. So you're not sure. Zoe I just experienced this too, sister! I don't have all the answers here, but I know panicking's not the answer! I don't even know what I look like now. We're in a bathroom, genius. Yeah, but I don't want you to slap us again if I look, okay? ...Okay."
And so they looked into the mirror together.
