"Upstairs," Zoë hissed, grabbing his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "My room. Now."
She didn't wait, just yanked him toward the stairs, leaving their mom protesting about the mess and the laser tag schedule. The pull felt... wrong. His body wanted to obey Mom. But Zoë's grip was real.
She dragged him past her own dark, messy room—which smelled like stale coffee and old clothes—and kicked open the door to his room. Or what used to be.
The first thing that hit them was the smell. A sweet, floral, slightly musky scent. "Midnight Jasmine," Jon's new brain supplied. It was the perfume from the vanity, but it seemed to emanate from the room itself.
"What the fuck," Zoë whispered, letting go of his arm and walking in. "This isn't your room." The doorknob was a simple, plain white handle. Jon's old one had a lock. This one didn't. He closed the door and it wouldn't latch. It slowly drifted open to stop halfway. Of course...
"It is now," he said. His voice, that rich, unwanted alto, cracked with a desperation that was purely Jon. He sank onto the edge of the bed—the silk sheets from his nightmare were still tangled at the foot—and buried his face in his delicate, wrong hands.
He could feel tears welling in his eyes. Zoe took his hands and pulled them away from his face. She was taller than him. Jon sobbed.
“Hey. Jon. It’s… It’s going to be okay,” Zoe said carefully.
“Okay!? I’m not myself. I’m not a man. I’m this… slut,” Jon sobbed. Zoe pulled him into a hug.
A few minutes later, Zoe pulled back. “You have beautiful eyes.”
Jon scoffed/sobbed, “Seriously. I tell that I hate… being this, and you say the eyes that aren’t even mine are beautiful.” Jon could see Zoe silently cursing herself. He looked up, his vision blurry. "That's the most attractive thing?" he asked, a bubble of hysterical laughter rising in his throat. "After all... this?"
Zoë actually recoiled, holding up her hands. "Sorry! Jesus. I was just trying to be nice. And besides, you know I'm not gay."
"This isn't me," he choked out, gesturing to his entire, naked-except-for-panties body, ignoring her. His tits and ass jiggled slightly at the movement. "Zoë, this isn't me! Mikey... he... I keep hearing his voice..."
"I know."
That stopped him cold. "What?"
“I walked past his bedroom last night and I think I heard him. He was talking about having a sister that was always sexy and cool and that his birthday wish would come true tomorrow.”
“Birthday wish?” Jon said, his voice surprisingly high but still somehow pleasant and alluring.
“Yes?”
“Fuck,” Jon cursed. He turned and leaned over and started looking under his bed. Zoe looked away sharply, not quite comfortable having a sister stick her bubble butt in her face.
Jon pulled out the stone and said, “I wish we could influence Mikey’s birthday wish today.” Nothing happened. “Why didn’t it work,” Jon hissed under his breath, brushing his curly hair out of his eyes.
“What the fuck is this,” Zoe cursed. “Was that what that was, did Mikey make a wish and now you’re making a wish. Can I get a wish?”
“What? No of course not Zoe,” Jon shifted unconsciously, dropping his shoulders and thrusting his tits out at Zoe. He smirked at her for a moment before his emotions inside became strong enough to override his programming.
...she would always be so sexy and flirty and a bit of tease, sometimes accidentally…
“Fucking Mikey,” Jon swore. Zoe took a step towards Jon and reached for the stone.
“So do I?”
“I said no, what the fuck.”
“Well this is totally not fair, you two both get wishes and I don’t. Do you want me to tell mom and dad?”
“Seriously? Mikey turns me into his adopted slut sister for his and his friends… and you’re the victim?” Jon yelled, cocking his hip. He ran his tongue over his soft lips and shivered at the sensation.
“Of course I am the vict…” Zoe paused. “I… I am sorry. This happened to you. I’ll help you with whatever you need but… I think I should also get a wish.”
“Listen this was my fault and I don’t owe you a wish. I could just wish you forgot this whole conversation.”
Zoe’s face turned horrified. Jon sighed beautifully. It was almost a moan.
“Fine, listen can I trust you not to lunge over here and take the stone.”
“Okay…” Zoe huffed.
“Well, last night I was… horny,” Jon whimpered. The thought of his male erect cock had him clenching his thighs around an aching emptiness. Zoe shook her head as if she was unsuprised. “And I wished that for one week, one wish, out of my control would come true. Apparently to be truly out of my control it had to be a wish I didn’t control.”
“How long have you had that?” Zoe asked, ignoring Jon’s story.
“That’s your first reaction,” Jon asked.
“Did you change me?” Zoe asked getting defensive.
“No, the only thing we wished for”
“We?”
“Karyn and I.”
“Of course, it was her,” Zoe laughed.
“And I wished for was to make the branch on the front tree at school blue—”
“But it’s always been blue,” Zoe replied.
“Because if you don’t hear a wish you don’t know reality has changed,” Jon explained. One of his delicate hands was wrapping itself around his left breast, palming it as his fingertips played with the barbell piercing. “Anyways,” Jon continued with a moan unaware. “Karyn wished she had Sarah’s hair and breasts and that’s the only wishes we’ve made.”
“Can you stop?” Zoe asked, unimpressed.
“Huh? Oh! Shit sorry that just happens sometimes,” Jon said.
...a sister that would always do something cool or sexy…
“Why does that keep happening?”
“No clue but, we need to figure out what we’re doing next.”
“Can I get my wish now?” Zoe asked.
“Can you wait. I just learned that I can’t influence Mikey’s birthday wish. Who knows what he might wish for.” Zoe sighed eyeing the stone.
“You could confront him,” Zoe said.
...a cool and ‘different’ older sister unlike Zoë. She would help me …
…and look out for me when Zoë is being mean…
Mikey’s voice was loud and authoritative. Zoe and Jon wince as they covered their ears. The stone tumbled from his hands.
Jon’s amber eyes widened as Zoe reached down, grabbed the stone and… handed it back. He quickly snatched it back and Zoe just scoffed.
“Well that’s out of the question. Apparently, that was me being mean and confronting him would certainly not help him,” Zoe said, crossing her arms over black jean jacket.
“Fuck… yeah…” Jon said. Zoe spun, taking in the room properly.
"Okay, this is..." Zoë walked further in, her boots silent on the new, plush cream carpet. She ran a hand over the white-painted wood of the vanity. "This is so not you. A canopy bed? Pink?" She scoffed, picking up the 'Midnight Jasmine' bottle. Beside it, a sleek, white laptop sat open next to a thick 'Intro to Art History' textbook. "He wished you'd be in college."
"I heard," Jon whimpered, sinking back onto the plush, pale pink duvet.
Zoë pointed to the wall. "Are those... did you paint those?" The abstract watercolors were soft, sophisticated, and... honestly good. A small easel by the window held another one, half-finished.
"I... guess so?" Jon said, horrified, but secretly proud. His plump lips spread into a smile. "That's 'different', isn't it? Not at all like you. That was part of Mikey's wish right?"
"But wait..." Zoë's eyes landed on the corner opposite the frilly bed. "Oh my god."
There, in stark contrast, was a sleek white entertainment center. A large flat-screen TV, an Xbox Series X, and a plush, white faux-fur gaming chair.
"He wished you'd 'be fun and play Xbox with him,'" Zoë said, her voice deadpan.
Jon's new, beautiful face twisted in genuine disgust. "I hate Xbox. I'm... I was... a PC gamer."
"Well, you're an Xbox girl now, apparently," Zoë said, poking the fluffy chair. "This is so literal. Mikey just listed a bunch of crap he wanted, and the stone just... jammed it all in here." She pointed to a pale pink yoga mat rolled up in the corner. "What, you're into yoga now, too?"
Her gaze swept the room, landing on a tall, gold-framed, full-length mirror leaning against the wall. It was angled perfectly, reflecting the bed... and the doorway. "It's a stage," Zoë muttered. "It's a 13-year-old's fantasy stage set."
"It's his sense!" Jon wailed, his voice cracking. "Zoë, what am I going to do? Mom said I have to take him and his little perv friends to laser tag. And then... 'cake and some Xbox.' Me. Dressed like..." He gestured helplessly at his nearly-naked body, the motion sending another unconscious, graceful jiggle through is supple flesh. “like not at all.”
...always do something cool or sexy...
Jon shuddered as the phantom voice approved. "It keeps... making me... just go along with it."
Zoë's face hardened. She crossed her arms, looking at him. "Okay. First, you need to put on some goddamn clothes. Seriously. I'm not looking at... all that." She motioned vaguely at his pierced chest. "Find something. Anything."
"I don't even know what's in here!" Jon stumbled over to the tall white dresser and yanked open the top drawer.
He froze. Zoë peered over his shoulder. The drawer was filled, not with socks, but with underwear. Dozens of pairs. Tiny lace thongs, silk cheeky-cut panties, see-through mesh. Not a single pair of normal briefs.
"Holy shit," Zoë breathed.
Jon's hand was shaking as he opened the next drawer. It was full of bralettes—flimsy triangles of lace—and a few skimpy, low-cut sports bras that looked designed to show cleavage, not support it. His full lips smiled slightly when he found one normal bra only for Zoë to point out it that he’s watched to much porn and that’s a push-up bra.
"Where are the clothes?" he shrieked, pulling open the larger drawers. They were full of tiny sleep shorts, sheer tank tops, oversized t-shirts so thin they were practically transparent, and two short, silk robes that somehow he knew wouldn't even close all the way. Tucked in a corner were two pairs of skin-tight yoga pants and a few pairs of impossibly short exercise shorts.
"That's it!" Jon spun around, hysterical. "There's nothing! There's nothing here I can wear outside! Nothing I could wear to a thirteen-year-old’s birthday party. It's all... It's all loungewear!"
"You could wear the yoga stuff," Zoë suggested, pointing.
"That doesn't count!" Jon screamed, fresh tears welling up and spilling over his long lashes. "That's just as bad! I don't want to be sexy! I don't want them to look at me!" He collapsed onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest, which only made his tits squish together. He sobbed, a deep, shuddering sound that was horribly at odds with his delicate new body.
Zoë sighed, her tough-girl act cracking. She sat down on the carpet next to him and pulled him into another hug, letting him cry into her black jean jacket.
"Okay," she said, her voice softer. "Okay, shut up for a sec. We have a plan. You can't wish to influence his wish... but there might be another way. We will find a way."
"A way?" Jon sobbed. Even like this, Zoë had to admit he was kinda cute. Part of Mikey's wish?
…always sexy… echoed too softly for either of them to hear.
"Yeah, let me make a wish."
"Fuck no!" Jon said, looking up at Zoe. Why did he have to be shorter...?
"For some actually appropriate outdoor clothes"
"Fine, but be careful. Wishes can't be undone."
