Jon let out a shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping. The fight was gone, replaced by pure exhaustion. He sniffled, wiping his tear-streaked cheek with a delicate, unfamiliar hand. "Fine," he whispered, his voice raw. "Just... be careful. Please."
He held out the reddish stone. His hand was shaking so much Zoë had to gently take it from his palm. She stood up, her taller frame easily towering over him as he sat defeated on the floor. She felt the stone's strange, inert weight.
"Okay," she said, her own voice tight with focus. "Appropriate outdoor clothes. Not sexy. Not loungewear. Something you can wear to... laser tag." She almost snorted at the absurdity of it all.
She closed her eyes for a second, thinking. "Okay. Here goes."
Zoë held the stone tight and looked directly at the tall white dresser. "I wish," she said, her voice loud and clear in the quiet, perfumed room. "I wish that Esme's dresser contained three complete outfits that are modest, completely non-sexy, and appropriate for her to wear in public to a 13-year-old's birthday party."
Jon flinched, sucking in a sharp breath as the sensation, like a flash of light behind his eyelids, hit them both.
"Did it work?" he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Look," Zoë said, pointing.
The dresser hadn't changed. It was still white, still sitting there. Zoë nudged Jon with her boot. "Go on. Check the drawers you opened."
With a trembling hand, Jon pulled open the large drawer that had been filled with flimsy shirts and robes.
He gasped.
Lying on top of the sheer, silky things were several new, folded items. They hadn't been there a second ago. Jon's hands darted out and snatched them.
One was a pair of simple, dark-wash blue jeans. They looked... normal. Miraculously normal. The second was a soft, cream-colored, long-sleeved t-shirt. It was opaque. He could see no lace, no mesh, nothing sheer about it. The third item was a simple grey hoodie.
"Oh my god," Jon sobbed, clutching the clothes to his bare chest. His relief was so profound that his body went momentarily slack, his hips tilting in a way that made his bubble butt jut out. He let out a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a pleased sigh. "They're real. They're real clothes."
...always sexy...
The phantom whisper echoed softly in the room, but they were too relieved to notice.
"See?" Zoë said, looking down at him and handing the stone back. A small, smug smile touched her lips. "I told you we'd find a way."
Jon quickly put the stone back under his bed and fumbled with the clothes, his relief so profound he was shaking. "I... I can put these on. I can go downstairs."
"Good," Zoë said, crossing her arms. "But we're not done. We still have his actual birthday wish to worry about. The one he's making today."
Jon's face fell, all the relief vanishing. "I thought... I tried to wish..."
"You can't wish to influence him," Zoë cut in, her voice low and calculating. "But that doesn't mean we can't influence him. The old-fashioned way. You're his 'cool older sister,' right? You're supposed to help him with homework and look out for him."
"So?" Jon asked, his voice a miserable whimper.
"So we look out for him," Zoë said, as if it were obvious. "We guide him. We spend the day being... whatever he wished for. Fun. Cool. We get him in the right frame of mind. We... prime him. We make sure he doesn't wish for something... worse. Like for you to actually be naked all the time."
Jon shuddered, clutching the jeans tighter. "Okay... okay, we can do that."
Zoë's smirk returned, looking down at Jon. "Besides," she jested, "it's... kind of cool having a sister. Even a weird, magic, slutty one."
"Shut up," Jon muttered, but there was no heat in it. He stood up and, turning his back to the half-open door, peeled off his soaked-through, lacy black panties. He hesitated for only a second, looking at the drawer full of thongs, before deciding he'd rather go commando. He fumbled with the jeans, hopping on one foot to get them on.
He'd just managed to pull them up over his hips and was working on the button, his bare, pierced-nippled C-cups on full display, when a small figure darted past the open doorway.
Mikey.
He skidded to a halt, his head snapping back. His eyes went wide, his jaw dropping as he took in the sight. His new, "sexy" sister, half-naked in her room, her perfect tits jiggling as she fumbled with her jeans.
...always so sexy and flirty...
"Mikey!" Zoë barked.
The boy let out a high-pitched squeak, his face turning bright red, and ran full-pelt down the hallway, screaming for his mom.
Jon spun around, his face a mask of horror, which his features immediately translated into a pout of sexy frustration. "This! This is what I was talking about!" he shrieked, finally yanking the long-sleeved shirt over his head.
Zoë just sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yeah. This party is going to be a goddamn nightmare."
