Jon clutched the banister, his knuckles white. He could feel the magic warring, pulling at the threads of his clothes. Zoë's wish for 'modest' and Mikey's for 'sexy' were in a tug-of-war, and he was the rope.
He let out a tiny, choked sound. The 'modest' jeans didn't rip, but they constricted. The denim seemed to melt and re-form, tightening around his legs, hips, and ass like a denim glove. The fabric suddenly felt softer, thinner, hugging and lifting his bubble butt in a way that was anything but 'non-sexy'.
The cream-colored, long-sleeved shirt... it shrank. The hem, which he'd gratefully pulled down, crept back up, pulling free from his jeans to expose a sliver of smooth, tanned skin above his navel. The neckline, a sensible crew neck just a second ago, suddenly widened and went crooked, drooping to one side. It slid down, exposing his collarbone and the bare, smooth skin of his shoulder, falling just far enough to offer a tantalizing hint of cleavage.
It was a perfect, horrifying compromise. The outfits were still, technically, what Zoë had wished for—jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. But Mikey's wish had reinterpreted them through its own perverted lens, making them skin-tight, form-fitting, and undeniably, inescapably sexy.
"No..." he whispered, his voice cracking. He tried to pull the shirt back up over his shoulder, but his fingers fumbled. He managed to grab the stray neckline, but as he pulled it back up, it just slid with a will of its own down his other shoulder, exposing the smooth, bare skin there instead. He let out a frustrated little sound.
...always so sexy and flirty and a bit of a tease...
His terrified grimace melted. His features, against his will, softened and reset. His eyes went heavy-lidded, his full lips parting slightly as that infuriatingly pouty expression took over. His posture, which had been a panicked hunch, relaxed. His hip jutted out instinctively. A strange, thrumming heat was building low in his belly, making his face flush in a way that looked like a delicate, sexy blush.
He could hear them. Mikey and his friends, all loud, cracking voices and clumsy feet at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Mikey’s "cool, sexy sister" to appear. His feet, against his will, began to move. One step, then another, descending slowly. With each step, his hips swayed in a fluid, rolling motion he wasn't controlling. His braless, C-cup breasts bounced and jiggled heavily under the thin shirt, and he bit his lip to stifle a gasp. The constant, jiggling friction was making his pierced, incredibly sensitive nipples ache and tingle, sending sharp, unwanted jolts of arousal straight through him.
At the bottom, Mikey was vibrating with excitement, practically bouncing on his sneakers. "Guys, wait 'til you see her! She was away at uni but she’s back and she's so cool!"
Next to him stood his three friends. Two boys, Jeff and Ben, who were already nudging each other and whispering, and a girl, Maya, who just looked impatient, her arms crossed over her hoodie.
"She's probably not even coming," Jeff mumbled, just loud enough to hear.
"She is too!" Mikey squeaked. "She's... Esme!"
Jon reached the last step, his body landing with an unconscious, model-perfect grace. The four of them looked up.
It was like a switch flipped. Jeff and Ben's mouths fell open. Their eyes, wide and unblinking, immediately locked onto his chest—where the loose, crooked neckline revealed his smooth skin, his collarbone, and the tantalizing hint of cleavage. They were staring at the subtle, all-too-visible motion of his heavy, unrestrained breasts as they settled. His nipples were pebble-hard, a fact he was sure the thin shirt wasn't hiding.
Mikey's face was a mask of pure, triumphant pride. "See? Told ya. This is my sister, Esme."
Only Maya seemed unfazed by his appearance, though her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Whoa, Mikey, she's actually taking us to laser tag? That's so cool!"
Jon's face was burning, the blush of unwanted arousal deepening. He wanted to cross his arms, to hide himself, to scream. He opened his mouth to tell them to stop staring.
But...
...always so sexy and flirty and a bit of a tease...
Instead of recoiling, his body relaxed further into the casual, hip-shot stance. His gaze flickered from the stunned faces of Jeff and Ben to Mikey, who was beaming. The "cool sister" programming kicked in.
"Happy birthday, Mikey," he purred, his voice a rich, flirty alto. And then, horrifyingly, his body moved on its own. He leaned forward from the waist—just a little, a "playful" gesture—to muss Mikey's hair.
From behind, it aimed his perfectly-formed, jean-clad bubble butt directly at Jeff and Ben, who both seemed to stop breathing.
From the front, the short, shrunken shirt, no longer held by gravity, fell away from his chest. It gave the boys a clear, unobstructed view of the heavy, braless underside of his C-cup breasts, swaying with the movement.
Jon froze for a split second, the feeling of the cool air on his exposed skin sending another jolt of horrified arousal through him. He straightened up immediately, his face flaming, but the damage was done. His nipples were aching, pebble-hard.
His features just softened into a lazy, knowing smile he didn't command. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at the dumbstruck friends.
"Hey, guys," he said, his voice even more breathless. His tongue darted out, "accidentally" wetting his plump lower lip. "You ready to go?"
He gave his head a little toss, his dark curls bouncing. The movement sent another wave of jiggles through his chest, making him inhale sharply. The shirt just settled more firmly onto his other shoulder, leaving even more cleavage exposed. He couldn't fix it.
"Uh... yeah," Ben managed to mumble, his eyes glued to Jon's mouth.
"Cool," Jon purred, the sound vibrating in his own chest. He walked past them toward the front door, his hips swaying. He "accidentally" brushed his new bubble butt against Ben's arm, and the jolt of contact sent another hot spike of arousal through him. He felt the boy jump like he'd been shocked. His plump lips unconsciously smiled in victory.
As he grabbed the car keys from the hook by the door—his mom's keys, he realized with a jolt—he looked back over his shoulder at the three stunned kids, his heavy-lidded gaze settling on Mikey. "Well? Don't just stand there, birthday boy." His full lips curved, and he gave Mikey a slow, playful wink. "We're burning daylight."
