The stranger in the mirror stared back, and Jon felt a cold dread that had nothing to do with the nightmare he was rapidly forgetting. The face... his face... was framed by long, tousled hair, a deep brown. He thought of his sister; Zoe had black hair, but that was dyed from blonde. This was natural. Sharp, dark eyebrows framed his new, inviting eyes, and his skin was a warm, tanned shade with a faint spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He looked... Mediterranean.
...my adopted sister…
He was hot, his body slick with sweat from the nightmare. The thin white tank top he'd slept in was soaked, clinging tightly to his new form and turning practically transparent. Something foreign stirred between his legs. He ignored it. He needed to see.
His delicate hands moved to the hem, but the motion wasn't the panicked rip he intended. It was a slow, fluid pull. His back arched instinctively, pressing his jiggling tits and firm ass out as he peeled the damp fabric up his torso. The wet cloth dragged across his chest, and he gasped. His nipples, now plump and incredibly sensitive, tingled sharply at the contact, a sensation that was alarmingly, sickeningly pleasant. The shirt slid over the impossible swell of his DD cups and he tossed it aside.
The tits drooped slightly despite their extreme perkiness. There was a barbell piercing for each nipple, and the pleasant tingling from removing the tank top was taking a frustrating long time to fade.
His gaze swept from his face, with its smooth, sharp chin, golden eyes and now full, pouty lips, down his new form. He saw a narrow waist that flared out wide but believable hips. Fuck, he was pretty sure he was shorter than Zoe now.
He turned and instinctually thrust out his bubble but that jiggled with the movement.
The heat stirring between his legs could no longer be ignored. His gaze traced the body further down. Below his new navel, a V of black lace clung to his hips. Panties. He was wearing lacy black panties. They were already damp.
...or in that underwear girls wear to make their boyfriends happy…
The sight, the sheer wrongness of it, sent a wave of revulsion through him. He hunched his shoulders, a terrified frown twisting his features. But the frown didn't look terrified. It looked pouty. Sulky. The lazy, flirty pout only deepened. His heart started to pound, and he felt his throat closing up as he felt tears welling up in his eyes, only to get caught on long lashes.
...always so sexy and flirty and a bit of a tease, sometimes accidentally…
Mikey's voice echoed in his skull, insistent and clear.
Why the fuck did he keep hearing Mikey’s voice? Jon turned back to his bedroom and the stone, ready to do something drastic but…
“Esme! Esme! Get your ass down here right now,” his mom’s voice rang out loud and clear from downstairs. His delicate eyebrows furrowed as his plump lips pouted slightly as he fell deep into thought.
“Esme!” came his father’s voice, cutting clearly through his thoughts.
Was that his new name?
He found himself turning away from the stone towards his bedroom door and the hallway beyond. He found himself thinking that Zoe always ignored their parents and he was different. He was cool. He had to listen to his parents because in this case that was the cool thing to do.
Wait… where did that thought come from?
