"Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt."
Jon was awoken by a loud buzzing. "Was it that time already?" he thought. Then, her was thrown into complete darkness, and complete cold. As he lay there looking up, memories from earlier in the day came rushing back to him. Laying there was just so comfortable, but it was over, he thought. All over.
He placed his hands to feel the still warm half-cylinder hanging over him, pushed it up, and slid his feet left, over the edge as he removed the flimsy goggles and his eyes came back into focus. The black and white zig-zagged bikini top pushed out by two distinctive mounds rose and fell with every breath Jon took. He stepped up from the tanning bed and took stock of himself in the mirror. Perfectly bronzed skin lead up from his ankles to the roots of his blonde hair. He was glad that he went with twenty minutes instead of fifteen like his mother told him to. Even if no one else could, he could tell the difference.
Besides, it was almost Halloween. And he was looking forward to it, along with Steve Farber's annual party. As it stood, Halloween was the one night a year where a girl could dress up like a total slut and no one could say anything to her about it. Normal girls wore costumes like red riding hood, a witch, or Carmen Sandiego, but hardcore girls were the ones who just wore some kind of lingerie and animal ears. Jon hadn't decided between the mouse, bunny, or a tiger yet, but the grey babydoll, black bustier, and cinnamon, orange and black striped bikini were all hanging in his closet. Either way, he had to make sure his skin was flawless, especially if he was going to be showing off so much of it; and, if one thing lead to another, letting two lucky hands explore every inch of it.
He thought of Karyn. That last caper they tried to pull off definitely didn't go as he had planned which lead them to the predicament they were in today. First, when Sarah had come home from practice early and found Karyn snooping in her basement, she had begged Sarah to wish things back to the way they were before, for his sake. Sarah even let her make the wish, but little did Karyn know that the stone's idea of before was different than her own. Once again, Karyn had driven a nail into her own fate; vaporizing her bright intellect into a cloud of hairspray again. Straight A's into pushed-up double-D's, is how he had termed it before. That was why the new Karyn was standing there when he had stepped into Paige's room. At least this Halloween could mean some future money for her - the white tanktop, skimpy orange shorts, white tennis shoes and sunburst nylons of the Hooters waitress costume she had picked out had raised some eyebrows around the town, even at the restaurant itself. Word on the street was that they had already engraved a name tag for her. With her personality and looks, the managers rightly felt that she'd be the tastiest thing on the menu.
He thought of himself. When Sarah made the wish that made him Paige forever, his whole world had changed. Because there was no Jon Gibson for his grandfather to give the stone to, it simply disappeared out of her hands. With it went any chance of him going back to normal. This was normal now, he thought as he hefted one Lycra-clad boob in his right hand and the other with his left. Over the past week, he had gotten used to it. As he daydreamed in the mirror, moving his eyeballs up his shapely calfs to thighs, across the flat front of his matching black and white bikini bottoms to his toned stomach and the rest of the total package, Jon knew that it wasn't all bad. In fact, it was pretty good. Girls watched him everywhere he went; took notes on the clothes he was wearing and the music he listened to. Guys fell all over themselves to do things for him, to drive him places, to make his body feel good. He was a goddess in a 36-24-36 McMillan package now - and there was nothing he could do about it. Those words were the ones that freed him. Because he couldn't do anything, he had to embrace his new status, had to embrace the sweet surrender to femininity, had to embrace a future as Paige. He didn't have to fight it any more.
Paige finished touching up her makeup and made her way back to the custom fuchsia Mustang she had parked in front of the tanning booth. Her high heels click-clacked across the pavement as she waved to Tori Hilson from across the parking lot. Tori, three years older than Paige, was a Zeta at State College, and her guide, big sister, and ticket into the exclusive sorority when she graduated next year. Paige had already begun shopping around to have a pleated skirt made with the Zeta's trademark plaid just to impress them. God, being a sorority girl was going to be like, so cool for Paige. She wouldn't even have to pledge! All the prestige, mystique, and of course, all the guys would be hers. She smirked at the thought.
As she sat in the low seat, her denim skirt rose up to give a hint of what was underneath. Instead of covering it up, Paige wiggled a little more to make sure the bikini bottom's gusset was showing in the open. Between that and the diamond-encrused "P" dangling into her cleavage, in any situation, she had learned how to control everyone around her. No male police officer would ever give her a speeding ticket, no guy would ever turn her down for a date, no girl could say no to hanging out. The engine revved up and Paige exhaled a brief girlish gasp. The powerful engine of her new car always seemed to turn her on as she wiggled more to give herself more contact with the rumbling seat. She didn't need all this horsepower under her, but when Daddy bought her the vehicle for making the Varsity cheer squad with her sister Sarah for basketball season, she couldn't help but fall in love with it, from the leather seats to the vanity plate spelling "IKNORIGHT." Plus, with her sunglasses on and hair blowing in the wind, she looked so hot. In the past, Jon would've likened himself to Steve McQueen, driving a car like this, but now, it was Paris Hilton, or Candice Swanepoel. So was life. And he did want to look like them. He did want to be a sexy, hot girl in his pink Mustang. And he was.
Gosh, how life had changed. Jon didn't want to admit it to himself, but maybe Sarah was right. She pursed her glossed lips together. Maybe she was destined to be Paige, be a McMillan. Like her life wouldn't be complete without being Sarah's little sister, being her best friend, being a junior mini-me following in her polka dot pumps. Paige already knew that her life wouldn't be complete without the walk-in closet stuffed with designer ball gowns, workout clothes, and party dresses. Without the jewelry. And omg the shoes! All of her shoes. She entered the front door to the mansion she called home. The one she'd call home until she moved away to college, got married, moved out for good. Her mother walked past and for the first time Paige actually looked at her with interest. She was glad her mother was a model. In about twenty years, she'd be looking like that, with still perky breasts, a still-tight figure, and a face that would age gracefully well into her 40's. She'd be the one walking around the house in lingerie and her robe, a MILF in the purest sense of the acronym.
She leafed through the mail, cherry-picking any one addressed with her name; Paige McMillan, which meant that it was the usual smattering of Victoria's Secret PINK catalogs, Nordstrom lookbooks, and Vogue. Gone was the subscriptions to the New Yorker, Newsweek, and Gamepro, and gone with them was any real pressure on him to be smart, nerdy or masculine. They didn't matter anymore. He had carte blanche to start over- as a perky, girly, fashionista. Now that he was Paige, Jon was going to give in, going to be a teenage bombshell. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew it would be good, starting with the sorority and ending up as a trophy wife. He was going to get used to this. Heck, he already had. Being a McMillan was the best thing that ever happened to him. Paige McMillan was here to stay.
