Limitless Wishes: Crap World / Shifting School free porn video

Author's note: This story is X-rated for a reason. The sequel to chapters 1+2, it starts in an alternate universe with a morality that is already a bit different from ours and it changes further. No gross things like torture or rape though. Many thanks to Catfish who did a great job at painstakingly pointing out thousands of minor and major errors! ==== Chapter Three: Crap World? ===== I woke up when it was still dark. A quick look at my clock radio told me that it was five in the morning. WAY too early, but I wasn't very sleepy. I turned over since it was a lot more comfortable to sleep on my stomach. "Huh?" I found that I had a morning erection. I tried to relax and think about boring things like today's schoolwork. This usually helped, but the erection didn't fade this time. In a sudden surge, all the memories of yesterday flooded back. It all made sense: My boner, the totally soaked bedsheets... Yesterday, it was my eighteenth birthday as Jamey Stan, black high- school student and total loser. At least I had come to think of myself as a loser. I wasn't particularly sporty, not popular, and definitely not brilliant. I had struggled a lot not to drop out last year. With any luck, I might manage to finish school at the bottom of our class. I was shy and had never had a girlfriend. I didn't need one, I always reminded myself. Girlfriends were trouble. Especially when you considered my mom, who became a religious nut in the last few years since Dad died. Then, yesterday, on my way home from school, an ancient genie manifested in front of me. Dajinni. He claimed that he hadn't been active for a thousand years and then some. Long story short (and yes, he had talked WAY too much in his strange speech pattern), Dajinni turned out to be the real thing. He granted my wish to be able to grant wishes myself. I had thought of myself as fairly clever at that moment. Just afterwards, I couldn't wish for anything and thought that it was an elaborate prank. Or an illusion, or whatever I thought. I was stupid. I had seen him myself and wrote him off as a prank. How could I? My three best friends had prepared a little birthday party for me at home. There were a few wishes, and I was compelled to fulfill them. All. Literally. "CRAP!" I got up and looked at the mess. The bedsheets were coated with white stains or half-dried fluids. I sighed. Mom changed my bedsheets once a week, and if she saw this mess... I noticed that the sheets didn't feel quite right. I touched them and stroked my hand over a very different material. It seemed as if they were rubbery and waterproof. Still: "Crap." How was I going to explain this to Mom? So, yeah. What happened yesterday? My best friend Maputo became a sex- crazed big-boobed black bunny and called herself Maple. He, or she, arranged for me - and all men in the world, as it seemed, to have a constant erection. By the way, he or she also poofed all clothes off our bodies except underwear. That was then even topped by my mom the nun, who wished to wear even less clothes. Richard, who is now my last close male friend, found it funny to wish me a happy birthday, so that I was more or less cool and happy with all the changes around me. If I wasn't remembering wrong, they also wished that there was no taboo on sex. Call it the sexual revolution, all right? And those were just a few of the wishes that happened yesterday. I dreaded seeing the world in which I woke up today. I needed to reverse all this. I sat up and put my feet on the cold floor. The erection wouldn't fade, I knew. It wasn't unpleasant, but it distracted me somewhat. A penis, pumped to the brim with blood, does that to a man. After staring at it, I walked around my room. It didn't feel normal, but I was at least able to stop thinking about it. Next, I checked my clothes. My T-shirt was clinging to my body as if it was several sizes too small. When I finally got it off, it shrunk even more. It looked like a children's shirt now. I dropped it and searched for a new one. Surprise again. I found lots of shirts, and recognized them all. Those were my clothes, all right. But they were too small. Finally, I tried my favorite shirt. It was now made of spandex or something like that, I found out. They were all made of spandex. Crap. It stretched onto my body without problem. Still, it was skin-tight, and the design had changed from a tee to a muscleshirt. I searched for something else. There were also a few long-sleeved shirts, formerly sweatshirts and pullovers... Also skin-tight! And... ugh! The armpits were bare! Either I would have to shave my armpits, or have my dark curls showing! "Crap." Then I searched for my boxers. I had only few pairs of plain underwear: white, gray, blue, striped. The rest of the stuff had a motif. Spider-Man, or the Simpsons, or Donald Duck. I also owned four boxers of the same style, showing a beach and palm trees. And there were the good black ones. They were really comfortable, but they looked pretty strange. Maputo's gift for my seventeenth birthday: Two black boxers that featured a skull. I liked them very much. All of them were still there, but changed to the new normality. That meant there was a reinforced protrusion. It stuck out to hold my manhood. I had no idea what to call it - a pouch, or a nose? A codpiece? I examined the underwear - they were simple but no doubt fit me. The size labels showed "18-22," mostly. I slipped on my beach-and-palm boxer. Just when I fitted the palm tree tissue over my penis, I noticed that in these boxers, I got the role of the palm tree. The stem was brown, the tip was green. The fruits of the tree were depicted on the beach. Two coconuts. Heh. Clothes designers. What were they thinking? The other boxers were just as bad, most of them made of rubberized spandex. I checked. Maputo's gift was adorned with the skull motif, grinning on my swollen tip. The others had Bart or Donald smiling from the protrusion. The orange-black spiderweb boxers looked cool, though. Even the plain striped boxers had the manufacturer prominently printed on one side of the penis pouch. I swallowed when I thought about it. Having the Adidas logo on my shirt was no big thing, but having it written on the cock...!? "Crap world." I got a few clothes into the bathroom and locked myself in. Another thing. I found that the toilet seat was not so comfortable to pee in. I usually sit down. Blame my mother if you think that's not what men do - I've been sitting down since I was potty trained. But this time I had to stand. I missed the hole, not used to peeing with an erection. Piss ran down the rim. "Crap world." I cleaned the mess up and looked at the other wall in disbelief. There was a urinal in our bathroom. I had never seen one in a private bathroom, to be honest. "Crap, how's that thing here?" I said to myself. I finished cleaning up after myself, and grumbled about the stupid toilet design. At least there should be a sign to always use the urinal. Finally, I tried the clothes I brought. The mirror wasn't large enough, so I stood on the toilet to look at my lower parts. It was a strange feeling, that I suddenly had to match my underwear instead of the regular clothes. I had never before cared much about appearances, but in this new reality, it seemed important to not look too goofy. I grinned when I thought about what Goofy boxers were guaranteed to look like, with his long face. I didn't have Goofy boxers. Thank God. I settled on my favorite blue shirt and a pair of plain blue-gray boxers. Striped. It looked stupid, in my opinion, more like a weird jogging disguise. "Crap." I went back to my room, to search for alternative clothing. Going inside, the next shock hit me. I hadn't noticed before, but one of my posters had changed. It was a very old girl group poster. I got it two years ago from a cousin who got married and gave it away. It showed a certain girl band that was broken up by now. The ladies had been caught in a pretty naughty pose. They had very nice faces and showed enormous cleavage, clothes barely covering their nipples. This was the reason I kept it. Mom had protested heavily, and refused to go into my room for a few weeks. But this was pretty much my only conscious act of rebellion against her, and she knew better than to rip it off in my absence. She got used to it eventually. Well. That all was until yesterday. Now, that girl band poster was still there. The frame had shifted downwards; the nice faces were cut at the neck to make room for the rest of the body. The poster centered on the navels, and the girls were only wearing small bits of body jewelry. The lead singer had opened and stretched her pussy so far with her fingers that I could see every detail of her vulva. I silently wished biology books were so detailed and realistic. (They probably were, but only now.) "Hmm... maybe not so crap, but..." I checked the other posters. They were of sports cars with models. Those had even less clothes than usual, but weren't nearly as slutty as that lead singer. I checked other things in my room. Were more things changed? The rubberized bedsheets, the tight clothes, the naughty posters, okay. I took a math book from the shelf, but there was nothing unusual about it. The clock, the backpack, the calendar. All was unchanged. The biology books, of course, had a few more details about sexuality. Still, things were discussed in scientific terms. Apparently, there were even experiments scheduled in the book. Take a microscope and study fresh sperm and egg cells during class. No penetration lecture and stuff, at least. I quickly put the bio book back on the shelf and looked for other things that were changed. I found no sex toys in my drawers, and no porn stash under my bed. I didn't have one in my old reality, either. As I said, I'm a pretty tame boy. I found my smartphone under some paperwork. I took it and checked - yeah. Still broken. Poor me. "Crap." All the wishes I might have fulfilled for himself! If only I could wish for stuff myself! I tried wishing again, but to no effect. I had lots of wishes. First, undo everything that happened yesterday. Then, wish for the things that I wanted to get. I could be rich and famous and powerful by now, although I had no idea what I should do with all that. It would be cool being president for a day. Or living in a mansion near a beach. Or doing all that stuff that rich people did for a hobby in TV shows. Surfing. Golfing. Skiing. Going to a casino. I was so poor, I didn't even own my own car yet. Whenever I wanted to use Mom's old car, I had to pay for the gas myself. Guess how often I used the rusted tin! And then there was also my family. I could probably even resurrect my Dad! The genie had said it wasn't possible, directly. But he never answered my question if I could create a high-tech magical tool to resurrect dead people. At that question, he had become rather nervous, I remembered. Now that I thought about it, there were some good things among the wishes. The nekkid girls would have to stay. Nobody would be the wiser, and I could make them all like being naked. Oh, yeah, they already did like it! Yesterday, not even my Mom had been ashamed in her frilly outfit. Hmmm. Okay, I didn't want my mom to stay in that outfit. That would always be embarrassing. There would have to be a compromise. Idle dreams! I couldn't do a darned thing about the new normality. I guessed that Maputo was still prisoner in Sandra's busty body. And there were some wishes I couldn't even remember clearly. I had always paid more attention to the special effect that happened when someone wished something. I always whooshed out of my body, saw how I snapped my hands, and then my soul? my spirit? went back inside. That special feeling was awesome. But maybe I should start paying attention to the words. Those words had dire consequences. The bad thing was, I was at the mercy of others. I knew what I should do. I needed to get to my friends, convince them about my problem, and then let them revert those wishes. There was still the problem that all wishes from yesterday were now the new normality. Maybe 'Maple' couldn't even remember being Maputo. Or wouldn't want to change back. Or both. That would be bad news. Bad for him. (Or her?) By accident, I stumbled across my pajamas, folded at the foot end of my bed. Finally some full-length pants! And even better, there was no long pouch for the cock! For a moment, I had some hope. I tried them on - oh, shit! There was a simple V-shape in the front: They didn't cover anything. So, everything everywhere had changed, had it? I had a sudden idea and turned on the TV. A woman in a bra was the first who appeared on screen. She interviewed someone - aha, the camera zoomed to him. He looked like a retired bodybuilder or boxer. He wore a standard gray suit, revealing a skintight spandex shirt with buttons. You could see strands of his chest hair. The caption labeled him as a local politician, however. These two lightly-dressed persons discussed some budget issue and... I squinted when the politician shifted in his seat. Boy, was this guy buffed! I even got a glimpse of his gray shorts and the boner hidden there. Did people vote for guys with big schlongs? Not my business, of course. Still, it led me to another idea. A suit! I didn't want to go to school only in underwear. So I searched for my suit for church. I hated the thing, but it was the most normal wear I had left. Indeed, the suit wasn't dramatically altered in size and material. Checking in front of the mirror, it looked almost like a normal suit. Okay, there was a huge tent in front, apparently designed to hold my penis. But, at least it covered everything. No tight pouch. Below the suit jacket, I had only my blue muscle shirt, however. And the pants only went down to my knees. "This is all crap," I sighed to myself. But at least I felt modestly dressed now. I went into the kitchen, next. Breakfast. Again, I scanned anxiously for changes, but there was nothing. Hmm. Had the cushions on the kitchen chairs always been so thick? Some crazy thoughts crossed my mind, when everything seemed suspiciously in order. Was that really cow milk in the fridge? Whew, it seemed so. New reality hadn't begun on milking women. I couldn't imagine how that weird thought even crossed my mind, but hey, it was not an impossible change. Oh, that book from Richard was still here! I took my latest birthday present and thumbed through it. It was an illustrated book on motocross and off-road races in Asia. There was apparently a Gobi World Race and the Grand Prix of Laos - I never heard of those before, but that seemed just normal. You couldn't know about every motorsport event in the world. My interest so far only covered America and part of Europe. I had also one magazine about historical Dakar races, of course. Rally Dakar is a must. This book was actually a great introduction to Asian motorsport and I said a silent thank you towards Richard. A useful present. Maple-Maputo had brought a cheap racing game and a cream-cake from his- her Grannie. Why, and Nepal had licked this same cream cake off my penis. Talk about stupid birthday presents. In my new book, there were lots of fact sheets, tables, and mud covered cars. Just what I liked. In a group photo of one team, I found ten men and six women - they all wore the same skintight leather overall. The image bristled with sexual energy, but compared to all the posters in my room, or the advertisements on the TV screen, this book was totally tame. "Crap world. Nice book, though, Richard." I started to prepare breakfast, since Mom wasn't up yet. Usually, it was the other way around. Only today, I was up early, since I went to bed yesterday at only seven P.M. That really had been a long, happy sleep last night. I had slept like a baby. Suddenly, I heard the apartment door opening and looked at the kitchen clock. It was still very early in the morning... Then Mom barged into the kitchen. She only wore her shelf bra from yesterday, and a green G- string which was new. On the triangle patch that covered her snatch, there was a big golden- yellow cross. You could say many things about Mom, but even with her new outfit, she radiated her religion. She also had a tiny golden crucifix on a chain around her neck. It looked a bit like my own cross... which had housed Dajinni. I couldn't hope that her chain also held a genie, could I? "AHA! The sinner's up early!" she said with a big smile. There were many ways to describe Mom. She was lean but tough. She was resolute and religious and strong-willed. You could feel those attributes in the air around her. The new Mom seemed to be just the same. Additionally, she was just a nudist. And though she had a great black body, she wasn't a MILF. Thank God. Don't misunderstand me - I adored my Mom and would have no other. She had become a hard woman, was always strict and could be trouble, but I respected her deeply. She had a great moral compass that hadn't been wrong so far. I didn't have lots of perspectives in life, but I knew that without her, I might already live on the street or in jail. She was my guide to my adult life, although that sounded strange to many peers who managed well without constant meddling of parents. I could confide in her... Some things, at least. Supernatural witchcraft powers might be not the best to discuss with her. "Why were you outside, Mom?" I quickly asked. I hoped she wouldn't start talking about yesterday. "I was at Mr. Rogers', of course. It's my turn this week." Mr. Rogers was the gray-haired man that sat in a wheelchair, living in the second apartment on the ground floor. His wife died two years ago. Since then Mom and two other women from the church community looked after him. So this was just as usual. A normal thing. That was good. A bit early, though. Maybe there had been an emergency this morning. "Is he not well?" I tried to start a casual conversation despite the fact that my mother wore next to nothing and I had slick underwear inside my suit pants. She shrugged. "He takes more medicine than ever, you know, his heart and his back are giving him trouble. Not to mention that he can't walk." She helped herself to a large, thick carrot and held it in front of her mouth, thoughtfully. I observed her, again fearing the worst. Would she suck it? Stick it in her panties? You could never know, in this changed world! But mom just washed the carrot in the sink. She didn't even peel it before she bit off a large chunk and munched it. I had never been that glad about seeing someone eat a carrot! I forced myself to not act too jerkily and spread another slice of toast with peanut butter. "Yeah, okay, I know about his health. So he's okay today?" I said, rephrasing my earlier question. "He's a very gentle man, Jamey." Mom continued after she finished the carrot. "He always looks at my breasts and snuggles them all night." I choked and bread crumbs flew over the kitchen table. "CRA-HAP!" "Jamey! Language!" "Sorry, Mom." I rose from the table to get a paper towel and looked at my feet on the way. Well, I wanted to look at my feet but instead only saw the tent in my trousers. "Crap," I murmured. "Jamey Stan Junior! Look at my tits!" I bit my lips and looked my mother in the eyes. She seemed worried. She pointed her fingers downwards with a stern motion. "Down here," she commanded. I looked at her tits. They didn't sag because they were supported by her white shelf bra. They sure were a bit larger than before Maputo's wish yesterday. Her skin wasn't perfectly smooth, with a few dents and wrinkles all over her body. Her dark knockers were a sight nonetheless, having puffed cherry-red areolae. "Better," she said and jiggled them. It was a bit hypnotizing. I pulled my gaze away, back to her hair bun, but she motioned me down again. "Here's the music, dear. Jamey, if it weren't for the posters in your room, I could swear you're gay." "Mom, I'm not. Gay, I mean." "I know, boy. But you're so weird that I wonder sometimes. The same with your friend Maple, I can't remember her ever screwing someone." I snorted. Of course! Maple was Maputo until yesterday. She could hardly screw anyone if she didn't exist. "You see that, too, right? She's weird, isn't she?" Mom insisted, drumming her finger on the plate. If I said too much now, I would blow my cover and need to explain to her... how could I even explain this to her? I just shrugged. "When you were younger, I always _wished_ that you and Maple would start a family someday." I spaced out of my body which snapped my fingers, then went back inside. By now, I already knew the procedure. I managed not to scowl at Mom's swinging breasts. My inner self screamed. "I did everything to make you love each other. But you just wasted that time. Jamey, I know that you like her. Why don't you satisfy her?" I wasn't sure how to answer. Definitely, the shit was heaping higher. Crap. My "old" Mom had forbid me to peek into girls' cleavage, only look them in the eyes. She said it was okay if I met a girl and liked her, but she always told me how horrible a girl feels when someone ogled her. In the end, I felt actually discouraged from getting a girlfriend. Now Mom was preaching the opposite, and I had to find me a fuckmate? I mentally sorted all the wishes of yesterday. There had been one about boobs, at least. So that they were now bigger. Women wanted to show them off. That was also the reason why Mom - of all people! - wished for skimpier clothes. Then, I clearly remembered Richard's wish that sex wasn't a big problem for her. That also applied to everyone, I guessed. That practically meant that this new normality was now obsessed about sex. Maybe all this would make some sense when I just let Mom do more talking. She turned towards the oven and started rummaging for ingredients. "I mean, it is good you have a friend in her. People need friends as much as a good fuckbuddy..." and she rambled on about friendship and sex and how girls needed both and... and it was fascinating, but also bored me. I couldn't suppress a yawn, it was so early in the morning. Oh! Crap. I really yawned. There was no easier way to make her more determined. "When the Bible says you need to love your neighbor like yourself, what does it mean?" she asked me. She made a pious gesture, which looked strange considering her stripper outfit. I stammered. "That... I mean... umm..." I put my hands over my eyes. If she was already asking like that... naturally it had to do with sex. That idea was over the top, even now. I couldn't hold my mouth shut. "That we must make love with total strangers all the time, yo," I managed without a grin. Either I got her totally riled now because of my insolence, or... or crap. "Come on, Jame. I don't ask you to become a saint. Most people find the ninth commandment hard." Again, she made the sign of the cross over her tits. I tried to remember the ninth commandment. Was it the 'bear false witness', or was it the 'not covet'? Not covet, right? And were the commandments even the same anymore? Maybe now they read "thou shalt always commit adultery on the LOrd thy God's holy Sabbath". I suppressed my urge to run and look into our family Bible to make sure. Thinking of our conversation, the ninth commandment was most decidedly something about free sex. Crap crap crap. Not that I'd argue against a bit more sex. After all, I was a red-blooded male. Why did I feel so bad about it? Because this way, it is bad, my conscience told myself. Mom kept speaking. "Just stop keeping it all for yourself. Maple told me yesterday that you struggled as if you didn't want it! And I could clearly see her when I came home. She liked Richard more than you." My thoughts went into a totally different direction. Why was Mom talking about Maple, anyway? Maple didn't fucking /exist/ until yesterday. She - HE was my friend Maputo, and he was a man. What happened to Maputo?! I knew already that the wishes changed all of reality. Did they also change the past? Did Maple remember her old self? When did she stop thinking of herself as a man? Shit, I had to help Maputo! Could I somehow find out about our past in this changed reality? Oh, crap, I'd need a diary or something, so that I could read about my past from myself... "... will you listen to me again? JAMEY?" "Sorry, Mom." "Am I talking to the wall here? Jame, this is serious. Yesterday, I found Nepal locked in the bathroom." "Oh, crap." I had totally forgotten about her. She grimaced when I muttered the word, but nodded. "You could say so. She told me how you treated her. Like... like crap, really. It's an outrage, Jamey! You shouldn't treat a girl like that." Crap. So now I lived in a sex world and didn't know even the rules. At least Mom knew them and hammered them into my brain, using sharp words. I learned that Nepal was a "sub," the willing slave of Richard, who in response was the "dom," dominating her in public. She would do nearly everything he demanded of her. But this relationship was a tricky one. Nepal let Richard dominate only on conditions. She had trained Richard not to command anything of her that she wouldn't like. If there was something extraordinary that Richard wanted, he had to first persuade Nepal before asking it of her in public. "So if Nepal bites or scratches him, Richard knows he went to far with dominating. It works like a safe word. You know what a safe word is, do you?" Mom asked me. I was ashamed that I didn't know, exactly. But I nodded. Mom frowned at me. "Nepal told me you came in her mouth three times, although she warned you via bites. And Richard swore a holy oath yesterday after cleaning that he explained all this stuff to you, only a few days ago!" I remembered a recent conversation. I asked Richard why he treated Nepal so bad. He couldn't really explain it then, but he told me that Nepal and he had an understanding. We didn't talk about sex, but in this changed world, who knew? So, Mom was right. Probably. Only that I could only remember my own reality. I knew nothing I apparently was supposed to know. Crap. She waited apprehensively. Did she want to hear my version? "Okay Mom, this sub-and-dom stuff was too new for me, then. It was just a reflex..." "Oh, no, young man! It was intentional, unless your phallic sphincter is damaged. And since you don't pee in your bed in the night - hey, what's with that face?!" The jig was up. I confessed about my soaked bed. "Jamey, this story is becoming stranger by the second. You haven't been drinking, have you?" I first shook my head, then nodded. YES, that was how to explain my behavior yesterday! It wouldn't help that Mom was strictly against alcohol. She was probably open minded with sex, yeah - but booze was a different thing. Anyway, I was in deep shit already. I confessed that I hadn't been really myself yesterday evening. And during the night. She shook her gray head. "Wait a minute. It's true. You were clearly not yourself yesterday. But I didn't smell alcohol." She squinted at me sharply. "Another drug?" "Er... Mom, Maple and Richard..." wished me a happy birthday, I wanted to say. That wasn't believable. Okay, I was happy like a junkie on stuff, and that needed to be my official version. But Mom would flip. I hesitated. I never tried hard drugs. Weed smelled, and booze smelled, so it had to be something different. I couldn't make up a drug on the spot. "Mom, I don't want to tell on my friends," I said and looked at her puffed nipples. Mom nodded. "That's good. Don't tell me, if you don't want to. I heard enough filthy lies from your mouth this morning." I flinched in my seat. "Mom..." She put on her sternest expression. "If you're such a good friend, you need to tell them to stop drugs, too." I nodded. "I understand. I really loathe what happened yesterday." It was true, and I hoped she didn't think it was a lie. She shrugged and continued with meal preparations, cutting through chicken meat. I wondered what she was doing it for - was this our dinner, or her lunch with dear Mr. Rogers? I couldn't dare to ask. Instead, I smiled faintly. "Mom, you're so good for forgiving me." She looked at me suspiciously. "I raised you to become a godly young man. It's your problem, but only this time. YOU deal with it, and never let it happen again. If I ever catch you red-handed with a mind-altering drug, I will kick you out." She took a deep breath. "I'd kick you out right now, but there's no trace of a substance. You're warned, I guess. So you better get rid of it. You're not a junkie already, are you?" "No, Mom, I swear it was the first time and I won't do it again." She snorted. "Hopefully that's true. If there's anything left, dispose of it before you leave this house." I didn't like what she implied. At least my conscience was clean. There was no drug. There was only that stupid happiness wish, and it had worn off when the birthday was over. I thought furiously about my situation during the awkward silence that followed. I needed someone to revert all those damn wishes, and just now, Mom wouldn't believe me. But maybe if I told her... She saw me opening my mouth and spoke first. "Jamey, when I think about it... You need to stop meeting those guys." "Those... you mean... Mom, they're my best friends!" "Jamey Stan Junior, it is my sincere _wish_ that you don't see Maple, Richard and Nepal for the next few months. Have I made myself clear?" I snapped my fingers. Again, I had the feeling that I was forced out of my own brain for a moment. Then the wish was fulfilled. "Hey, you can't...!" "I can't, I know. But when you're not stoned, you should use your brain, boy! Ask yourself: Are Richard and Nepal really your best friends if you don't understand them? I mean, their way of living and their partnership? And Maple just isn't good company." "What?" "I told you before. She's not a good influence." "Why, Mom?" She took another carrot now, then helped herself to some coffee. "If you really want to know, her parents are... hum... up to no good. I just find them suspicious. Everyone does. They're away for days like seasonal workers, but whenever they come back, they lead a life like millionaires, making huge donations to the church and the community. Mrs. Breths told me last weekend after the service. It's fishy. Suffice to say, we don't want dirty money at the church. I heard they're involved in some criminal activity or something, and keep bribing the police." I almost spit again, this time the coffee. "Crap!" "Only a rumor, of course," she added quickly. "But people have been talking for months now. I'm surprised you didn't know. So, can you avoid at least Maple? Please?" I sighed. Mom's wish was already fulfilled, she just didn't know about it. I had no choice anyway. And I was not telling her any of this. "Sure, Mom," I said, pretending that this conversation wasn't a major disaster. "What happened yesterday after I went to my room? Nepal was extremely pissed because Richard fucked Maple, so how are they?" Mom seemed clueless. "Why should that be a problem, dear?" "I mean... because... Isn't that a problem?" "Of course not! After we cleaned up, I heard Richard discuss it with Nepal. He claims that he loves Maple now, and they wanted to try a trio partnership. It's another reason I want you away from them. A freshly formed trio can break very easily, and everyone involved will have a tragic time." Crap. Crap, crap crap! So that meant that first, I had no chance to revert my wishes together with my friends. Second, those very friends were now in a weird partnership that excluded me. What the crap was a trio supposed to be? Regular threesomes? "What what what? And Nepal agreed with it?" "Eventually, yes. What frightened me more is that Maple never said a word, just smiled." Mom paused. "She's up to something." "You mean she plans on betraying Richard?" "How should I know? Whatever she plans, don't get in her way. Those trio stories need to work out for themselves." I was alarmed, but didn't want to ask. Definitely not. I concentrated on finishing my breakfast. My mother drummed her fingers on the table, also silent. When I stood up, she finally asked me. "Oh, Jame, may I ask..." "What?" "Why did you dress up? I know you hate your good suit." "Do... do I look bad in this?" I asked, self-conscious. I wanted to keep it on, but one word from Mom and I would put the suit back. "No, you're very dashing." Mom smiled proudly. "But this isn't your regular school outfit." My school didn't have uniforms. At least, it hadn't as of yesterday. "We.... don't have a school uniform." "Sure, I know. But why did you dress up? Is it a girl?" "I... mm... maybe?" "And not Maple?" "No, Mom." She smiled. "It's okay. A suit is a neat start to impress her. But you should care more about your inner values. You can blind a girl with your suit, but once you make love to her, she will see you for what you are." "Oh." I was heading straight into another morality sermon. Why the hell did I get up so early? All I got here was one crap lecture after another, when I could just lie in my bed... uh... in my cum-soaked bed. There was still half an hour left before I needed to walk to school. I decided I would leave early and take my time. No need to hurry. I rather needed to escape Mom's clutches. When Mom was in sermon mode, she'd hop from one embarrassing topic to the next. This morning proved it. "So, any advice, Mom?" I heard the advice before: Talk nice, look her in the eyes, and no touching. I could already bet that today's advice was going to be different. "Plenty of advice! See, if a girl talks to you, look her firmly in the cleavage. And if she jiggles her tits, you can start touching them. And then, if she's still okay with that, you can start to kiss her or look into her eyes or whatever." "Mom, do you take me for a..." I wanted to say 'pervert', but she cut me off mid-sentence. "Yeah, I DO take you for a child. I'm impressed that you FINALLY want to score a girl for yourself. It's about time, but you're way too shy." "MOM!" "Yeah, sorry for being blunt. Now, practice on me for a moment." She shifted her breasts into a fascinating position, playing with her nipples. "Mom, that won't work!" "Oh, it does, trust me. You're staring at my tits already. - Don't you look in my eyes now! Oh seriously, why did you stop checking out my great tits?" I glanced at the fine wrinkles on her face. She looked good, after all, but I was suddenly disgusted by her. "Look at my TITS, I said! You should seriously learn manners." "But...!" "No but. You need to make a girl feel lusted after. She needs to feel good! First in your eyes, then in your hands, and finally in your mind. I know it's an often repeated clich?, but the way to a girl's heart is through her boobies." That sounded wrong, and I buried in my face in my palm. "Mind, Mom. Through her mind!" "That too, but that step comes a lot later." I sighed. Mom did so, too. "It's like yesterday: You screwed Maple and Nepal, but you were not treating them right, so they left you." Now that was something I always heard from Mom. This whole 'you don't have the right attitude' crap. Just now Mom argued the opposite of herself. Her old, real self. "But Richard also..." "Yes, they left you for Richard! Can you imagine?! You're a nice boy and Richard's on his way to become a dom sadist. They would choose YOU if you could just manage to flirt!" Flirt... "By staring at their breasts?" "For starters - yes!" So this was it. It all came down to the wishes, again and again. I dimly remembered Maputo's wish from yesterday. A wish that all girls liked to display their boobs! Then, Maple wished to only have underwear. And with all those things, my life started to spiral out of control. Even Mom wished to have less clothes soon afterward. And Maple wished for every wish to be normal! At least, as I remembered, the normality wish had been limited to yesterday. It all was based on Maputo's first wish. Had he wished for world peace and harmony, we wouldn't have all these problems now. I believed so, at least. I suddenly found Mom's boobs right in front of my nose. I could only stare at them for a second - then she took my head and snuggled it in her ample bosom. She smelled really good, too. "Jamey, I love you. You're my son. I want you to be happy." I struggled free in a heartbeat, pushing her soft body away from me. "I'm not THAT desperate for love, Mom, thanks!" She lifted her hand. She slapped me. My face burned, and I touched it slightly shocked. Mom never hit me. She used words instead. Words hurt more. But now, that she hit me, I found it even worse. Not because it hurt. But because I offended Mom so much that... Mom's face had become dark with anger. I still stared at her, not believing the force that just hit my face. She took a sharp, hissing breath, and I spotted a hurt expression in her face. "You! I _wish_ that you find some girlfriend desperate enough for YOU, and move with HER as soon as possible!" I snapped my fingers absently and blinked. Oh dear. Another curse. Now I needed to pay attention that it wouldn't come true too soon. When I went out of the kitchen, I muttered: "Crap." "Oh, and Jame, as long as you're under my roof, don't forget to change your bedsheets! Before school, for once!" "Ooooh... CRAP." ==== Chapter Four: Shifting School ===== Mom's part-time job wouldn't start before lunchtime. She stayed in the kitchen the whole time and didn't talk to me anymore. I didn't go in the kitchen again, but I heard her sobbing. It was a soft, subdued sob. It moved me to tears, too. I was ashamed of everything, but didn't dare to console her. She wouldn't understand any of it. In that one hour of breakfast, we had constantly talked at cross purposes. For the first time I understood what those angsty teenagers always talked about. They always complained how parents just couldn't understand. I never had that problem before. Mostly, I knew what Mom expected from me, and I did it. Of course. I wasn't a rebel. I was a loser. 'Looooooooser,' I heard my inner voice cackling. I didn't change my sheets, though. Instead, I hoped to meet someone who'd revert all the wishes we went through already. I left the house as soon as I could now. In a moment of reflection I tried to imagine what I would have thought about granting wishes, at the same time yesterday morning. I would have thought it's impossible, yes. But if I'd thought of it as a real possibility? I'd have thought I'd be all-powerful and make lots of friends. So far I did a really good job in pissing everyone off that I met. On top of that, I felt helpless. What if someone wished for me to be a girl? A hot chick like Maple? Or what if they wished for the world's end? Would it happen? I seriously needed to stay away from depressed people. As soon as I left the house and saw people, I got distracted from my sorrow. The walk to school was a totally new experience. I could already see an enormous variety of new dress codes. The girls didn't care about modesty anymore. Everyone and her grandmother showed their midriff. As a man, I liked the new style. Who seriously wouldn't? Yet something in my gut revolted against this normality. It didn't feel all right. Mom's nightgown was flimsy, but her harem-style outfit was now considered formal. Other formal dresses included everything that involved pantyhose or garter belts. Informal was different and involved less clothes, mostly. Pantyhose on a normal girl's legs? Nah, they went bare. In general, women had really the craziest ideas about dressing in the new reality. Basically every mix and match of lingerie I could imagine, or even those I'd never have imagined in my wildest dreams. This involved, for example, pink or white ruffled babydolls, occasionally also light blue ones. Minidresses had strong colors like red or black, sometimes with another bright pattern; however always with slits up to the hip, so that the panties showed. A few girls only wore simple, modestly colored slip panties. To set this off, there was then a bright red, high strung thong below. If I hadn't had a boner already, I'd have gotten it when I first saw those wedgied strings chafing against their swinging hips. There were even two girls in high heel sandals, metal hoops around their hips, with something like curtains hanging down, or maybe a coarse lace doily. At least nobody showed her pussy to the world. The breasts, however, were no taboo. Girls actually liked to show off. Maputo's ideal of them being round and big was apparently universally accepted. Those who were well endowed in this direction sported their breasts naked, seemingly envied by all the others. Middle aged women wore shelf bras surrounding their tits and shaping them into the ideal. Again, other women who didn't have ones quite so big tried to enhance their looks with push-ups and other special designs. It wasn't cold in late summer, but I wondered how women managed come winter. Or even during a simple rain. Girls with a similar clothing style moved in groups, I noticed - so this meant that there were social classes like in the world before. I walked for a while behind a girl with a ballet tutu on her waist, until she was greeted by some babydolls and joined them. There were girls with lots of accessories and hoops and bells; others preferred piercings. There were differences in the use of makeup and everything. I knew I didn't understand much of it, but there were sorts of chicks for every taste. I realized that this new reality was not really different from my old one. Except that everyone on the street looked like she was attending either a wild beach party or a rundown brothel. The same was true for boys, of course. Everyone had a permanent erection, and everyone was dressed in spandex underwear. But they dressed pretty boring, when in comparison with the girls: You could choose between boxers, and slips, and tights. Also between tight muscle shirts and long-sleeved tight shirts. And buttoned tight shirts. The difference was mostly in color. I became a bit nervous when I realized that I was the only one in a black suit. Duh, of course I was! I must look out of place just as if I wore the Sunday suit on a normal school day in my old reality. It hit me as awkward to see even six-year olds in the now-normal street style - their cocks were really miniature, but sticking out of the trousers nonetheless. I looked around for girls in the same young age - and whew, they were nearly modest: The very young were topless, showing their flat chests, but they also had skirts covering the entire legs, and these skirts actually earned their name. For girls in junior high, the skirts had already become skimpier, and they completely covered their undeveloped breasts. That means until they were fully blossomed and revealed to the world. Like a flower bud, I thought. Suddenly an older woman pushed her walking frame past me. I believed for a moment my brain was melting. I tried to politely look away from the old woman, but could only stare towards her. She looked at me, raising her eyebrows. When she found I continued staring, she winked at me and jiggled her hideously wrinkled, sagged-down, leather-like breasts. I forced up my dropped jaw and quickly hurried away. I shivered. There were sights never to be looked upon - but now brutally revealed nevertheless. I hurried past the caf? where the overweight owner put the blackboard with todays menu on display on the street. I quickly ran past her, too. The school wasn't far away now. I sprinted past the senior residence, ignoring the three white-haired, sunbathing women who sat out already, chatting. A chubby middle-aged employee from the residence served them their coffees. In a maid outfit. Ugh! I ran to the schoolyard, but made a dead stop when I saw two policemen in their underwear uniforms near the entrance. Their boxer shorts and muscle shirts looked heavy, made of bullet-proof material. They carried their weapons and lots of equipment. They had badges and name plates, just like normal cops. With so much skin, they looked like gang members or a militia of mercenaries. They turned at me when I came to a screeching halt. "Hi, officers," I said nervously. A soprano voice behind me cooed: "So, sweetheart, why do you look so guilty?" I whirled around and saw a bodybuilder woman in a similar cop outfit. She eyed me through her glasses. Her bulletproof top only covered the breast on the left side. The other one hung in the air freely. She stood there wide-legged and in padded blue tight yoga pants and black high heeled boots. A multifunction belt around her waist bristled with tools, radios and weapons. I stared at her killer body. In fact, her packed body looked as if she'd have no problems with killing a person or two before breakfast! Not ruining her light makeup, either! That made her sexy in some way. She looked a bit like a perverted version of Lara Croft with blond hair. A brutie, not a cutie. Blond Lara Croft squinted her eyes. I felt obliged to say something. "You, er... look great, Ma'am." I winced when I heard her sexy voice again - the voice of an innocent girl, not of a heavy armed police officer. But there was no doubt about her appearance. "I'm on duty, boy," she said. "Get lost." She waved her hand, and I quickly resumed my way inside the school. "... not turned up at all. Makes me wonder if he really is one of them..." I heard her high voice say. The voice of one of the policemen answered, "... heard the whole family made a dash for it yesterday. The police commissioner even..." Behind the archway entrance, there was the teachers' parking lot. The teachers were no exception from new normality. I realized that I had hoped for familiar surroundings at school. But although there were familiar faces around me now, everything was weirdly distorted. Mr. Grentz appeared in his shabby brown suit, as always. With the neatly creased tent in his groin, it was both impressive and ridiculous. I suspected that I looked like him, except that my suit was black and clean. Several other teachers came in a suit, too. Most appeared just in "normal" boxers and spandex shirts, though. The female teachers had "formal" negligees like my mother. The younger ones did without, dressing 'liberally' in shimmering panties or minidresses, just like their students. When I approached the lockers, I stopped for a while, hesitating. People were just standing there, packing their books or talking or walking or waiting... as if everything was normal. And to them, maybe it was. But the girls competed in jiggling and flashing their boobs now. For a moment I wondered what that background noise was - a constant staccato "tack tack tack" swelling up and down. Then I noticed that every girl walked in heels. That was the noise. Huh. I moved through the crowd. Boys groped girls casually, talking loudly about their racks, comparing them. And where in the old reality couples kissed in the darker corners, they were now exchanging other body fluids whenever they were unobserved by teachers. In first class, I had math. Not my worst class normally, but a close second. Mrs. Wender was stubby and in her late forties. Still, she was HOT, with tits like balloons. She had a gray pleated miniskirt and panties, and a minijacket that was open in front to show her tits. She adjusted her rectangular glasses and made a stern face: "Now pay attention, boys and girls, we're doing logarithm functions." I stared at her, not paying any attention - but then, I was apparently the only one. For everyone else, everything was just normal. Class went on, when a bored girl sighed. She muttered: "I _wish_ Tom was sitting next to me." I got separated from my body again and watched myself snapping my fingers. Anne got a double desk, with Thomas sitting on her right. Everyone in class gasped and whispered. Anne looked at her new neighbor in awe. Mrs. Wender went down the alley between the single desks. "What's going on, how did you manage that, Mr. Erishson?" Confused herself, Anne stammered: "I just... I jjjust said..." "Who did that?" a girl whispered to my neighbor. "I think Anne had said she _wish_ed for her fuck buddy sitting next to her," he answered. I granted this wish, too, and now Anne was surrounded by two boys, the new one two years older and in a stained working 'overall.' "Whoa!" shouted the teacher. "Mr. Andersivsky, what are you doing here?" Apparently she knew the boy. I remembered his face, too. He was a former student, if I wasn't wrong. Anne shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "Tom... Ivan..." she squirmed, avoiding to look at either. By now the class was in an uproar, and I could hardly understand what people said. Everyone talked to each other. - "Whoa, how did that other guy just appear...?!" - "What happened?" - "I also _wish_ that one of the girls is sitting at my desk - hey nice!" - "That's enough! Mr. Andersivsky, please leave my class, how did you even get here? Silence, class! MISTER ANDERSIVSKY, OUT!" - "Whoa, did you just get your _wish_ fulfilled?" - "Duh, I _wish_ that every girl likes to give head!" After me snapping, I was appalled to see that all the girls had wider mouths all of a sudden. Also, more glossy lipstick and more pronounced lips. I didn't have time to wonder about it. - "I _wish_ I had a pet dinosaur!" - "...want to be really rich!" - "Anne, stop touching my cock!" Ivan hissed. He was obviously recovering from the shock of being teleported to our classroom. - "... _wish_ I were a boy!" Barbara exclaimed. I heard that wish and fulfilled it - like I fulfilled several others. My mind was whirled out of my body every few seconds now. I tried to fight it, but there was no chance. I snapped my fingers, again and again. Barbara became a boy, only ten years old. It didn't stop there. Barbara - now Phillip - then wished to be older, then smarter, and then to be dressed differently, and then wished for a goth style... My fingers ached from snapping, just from Phillip's wishes alone. People now knew that it was me who was doing all this. They directly asked me about my ability. The noise was now unbearable. The class president was curious: "How many times can I _wish_? One, two, three?". Several others also joined in questions about how I could do this, instead of wishing. My relief only lasted for very few moments. Then Nikki shouted in a shrill voice her _wish_ that women have less problems walking in heels. Sabina, one of the shy girls, punched me in the arm, screaming: "I _wish_ that cum tastes like the last meal people had." All other girls cheered at that wish. Only too understandable. If I got it right, they were already compelled to like giving head. They would like it even more now. If cum tasted like a decent meal... Umar waved: "Hey, that's cool, I _wish_ that I can..." I never got to know what his wish was. Probably something perverted, anyway. Mrs. Wender shouted directly in my ear: "I _wish_ that everyone in this room forgets about any wishes and concentrates on my lesson!" This last wish stopped the chaos that filled the classroom. Everyone fell silent and watched Mrs. Wender who straightened her pleated miniskirt. I stared at my hands. All of sudden, my fingers ached madly. I looked at my papers. I hadn't written that much, had I? "Has something happened?" Mrs. Wender asked, unsure. Nobody answered. None of us had any idea why we were all so excited. I felt dizzy somehow. I couldn't clearly remember the last few minutes. There was a cloud of fog in my memory. It covered everything that happened since I left school yesterday. But I knew that I had been at home yesterday: There were some fragments about having sex with an ebony beauty at my place. I even remembered Nepal sucking my dick, and Mom fucking the old neighbor in his wheelchair, and her lecture about treating girls this morning. All those memories seemed to be fragmented, though. Funny. Something was missing - and I knew that I hadn't been drinking enough to loose all my memories. Fact was, I never drank anything. Or... I looked around. Everyone in class was in underwear or bikinis. Nearly naked! Oddly, they didn't panic about it. They behaved as if everything was in perfect order. I shook my head, but everything remained like it was. It all must be a dream, I concluded. A nice one. When I turned my head, I noticed that Jen-Lo was sitting right next to me. She was a tall but heavily built brunette, with huge gazongas. She was sweaty and had a round face. I checked her out for a moment, but then I got oddly distracted by Mrs. Wender. I even stopped thinking about Jen-Lo. I never had found math great. Yet I was now able to concentrate on the subject so intensely that I understood what the teacher was talking about. Sometimes, when Mrs. Wender mentioned some concepts, I knew that I hadn't paid attention in the past. I needed to learn hard to catch up, I thought. Still, it was a dream, must be a dream. So I accepted my newfound interest in math with just a shrug. Maybe the dream was a secret message that I should start cramming. "Class, I want you to know that this amazing lesson filled me, like, with new energy!" Mrs. Wender said happily before the bell rang. "I _wish_ that pupils could always be as attentive in class as you have been." I watched as I lifted my hand - for the first time EVER in a math lesson! - and snapped my fingers, without controlling it. "Yes, Mr. Stan?" "Err..." Why had I snapped my fingers?? Why was everyone looking at me? "Err... Mrs. Wender, I've still got some questions..." Man, it was lame but how could I say that there wasn't anything? The sound of the bell made the situation less awkward. The class filed out and I was alone with Mrs. Wender. "So what's your question, Mr. Stan?" "Err... nothing. I wanted to... um... just thank you for that great lesson," I said. Then I quickly stood up. In the motion, my cock bumped against the desk. "AAahH!" My thoughts jumbled. Why did I have a boner - and shouldn't I conceal it? Oh, damn, it stuck out of my suit! Why was I wearing my suit, anyway? Was this a nightmare? I felt dizzy again. I stood there, squirming, when Mrs. Wender took my cock in her hands, her face worried. It must be a nightmare, right? Myself, in a suit, in intimate contact with a dolled-up version of my FAT MATH TEACHER?! I felt ashamed, and in any normal situation, now my erection should fade. Yet it didn't. "Are you okay, Mr. Stan?" I nodded into her face. Then I remembered the scene that happened with Mom in the morning. It was odd. Mom would never behave like a slut - it was as if I had entered a different world. Her lecture also seemed to belong into this dream. What was her motherly advice during breakfast? "Always look at her tits." I did so, just to try. In Mrs. Wender's case, they weren't perky anymore. But enormous. She had that open silk jacket around her shoulders, and a formal bra that exposed her nipples and emphasized the size of her orbs. When she noticed my stare, she shivered. That set her tits in motion, they jiggled as if they had their own mind. I was within arm's length. Not sure why I did it, I reached out and cupped her left breast. Anyway, it was just a weird dream, I figured. I'd sooner dream of a beautiful teen queen, but this experienced woman was also quite hot. Of course, she was pudgy, but I had been unkind when I called her "fat". She wasn't obese. Her sack of flesh floated in my hand, jiggled like a bag of jelly. Jelly in a warm, scented balloon. Nice to touch. I could no longer control my hands, and grabbed her other breast, pressing them both together. In the back of my mind, I frantically asked himself if I was supposed to do that or... I looked up to her face and found her eyes closed, a hint of a blush on her chubby cheeks. She whispered hoarsely: "Look, Jamey - Mr. Stan - you're great at flirting. Really. But I think we need to stop here. My husband is gone, and as much I'd _wish_ to get together with one of my students, it is inappropriate." I let go of her, and snapped my fingers again. What a weird dream. Mrs. Wender blushed even more now. "Oh, Jamey! You're really persistent, aren't you? But we can't flirt here at school. What if we get caught? I could lose my job for harassment. Can't you come to my house after school?" I became frightened. Come to my teacher's HOUSE? "No, I..." Mrs. Wender sighed and pushed herself towards me again, took my right hand and held it on her left breast. "You're a foolish boy, Jame. But I'm willing to take the risk. Touch me, hold me!" I grinned. The headache was gone. I just wanted to treat my teacher now. I was aware that we were somehow sexually connected, anyway. "What do you need, Mrs. Wender?" "Oh, it's so good to have a student interested in my body again, don't stop! Touch my body, my whole body, and look at my breasts," she commanded. I obliged. While my one hand continued to knead her tits, my other hand slid across her stomach, down and up her fat - no, pudgy - legs. Mrs. Wender writhed in pleasure, and I became just as excited when I found how strongly she reacted to my active, fast fingertips. The cock in my spandex underwear oozed fluids, and my suit trousers showed a certain dark spot. I found that I didn't want to stop petting my teacher. She was plump, and it was kinda gross visually, but she was also perfumed and soft and squishy and warm. I closed my eyes and explored her body blind. "Looking" at a woman with my fingertips was exciting! I also used my nose, gathering her distinctive smell with deep breaths. My ears picked up soothing moans, deep breathes, and her nervous heartbeat. "Feeling good" was a lot better than "looking good." Then I remembered the one sense I hadn't used on her. I lashed my tongue over her thigh, working my way up. Mrs. Wender's snatch's smells wafted into my nose. She smelled like honey there. My nose was right in front of her panties, I found. She put her hand on my hair and pushed me off her, withdrawing from my hands and the other senses. "Jamey, we wasted nearly the whole break! Go quickly, please! Don't tell anybody, it's important. I'll rely on you, sweetie!" With that notion, she straightened her skimpy wardrobe and kissed my cheeks gently. Then she showed me out of the classroom, shouting into the empty corridor: "Thanks for your curiosity, Mr. Stan, but I need to prepare my next lesson. See you tomorrow!" Next, she whispered: "Jame, I _wish_ you would come to my place as soon as you can after class, okay?" Next, the door slammed. This sudden ending of the dream, without even reaching the climax, confused me. A bit dazed, I walked to the locker room, only to find the same strange atmosphere there as in the morning. The boys were sexist, the girls showed off, everyone was in underwear, and yet nothing extraordinary happened. I mean, happened to me. Things were profoundly extra-out-of-the-ordinary everywhere I looked. The break was nearly finished. The odd dream was continuing! My next class was Spanish, and I arrived only a minute before class. Jen-Lo was glaring at me when I sat next to her, in the only and last free seat. "Where have you been?" she hissed. "I had to talk to Mrs. Wender," I said, unsure about her interest. "Oh. You talk to her awfully often, as of late," she said snippily. "I didn't know, I'm sorry," I apologized, staring at her tits. Immediately, Jen-Lo jiggled them. "Well, I was kinda hoping to meet you during break. There is something I want to ask you, and..." Mr. Kinger entered the room, and all conversation died. Mr. Kinger had a suit like me, but was an old, gray haired man. During the next lesson, I felt the compulsion to follow every word of the teacher. So did all other students, and Mr. Kinger seemed surprised, too. He finished the class way too early since he hadn't prepared enough stuff for us to learn. "Odd," he murmured when he motioned us out of his classroom. "I could have sworn that I'd need twice this long for this unit." In the lunch hall, there was a line at the food counter. 'Madam Molly,' the staff woman who was filling the bowls and handed them to the students, was ugly as the night. Her large tit sacks were hanging like empty flour bags, her eyelids were drooping, her lipstick-encrusted mouth as fat as her obesely expanding ass. "Goodness," I said to Jen-Lo who had followed me and was next in line. "I just wish that women would cover themselves up when they're fat and ugly." Jen-Lo edged me with her elbow. "You're mean, Jame. Instead, you should _wish_ that women could never become fat and ugly." Her voice became suddenly strange and deep, and for a moment, I wasn't myself. I snapped my fingers on an impulse. Just as I took the plate with my dish, 'Madam Molly' shrunk. Horizontally, at least. The pounds on her hips and belly receded into thin air. Her wide frog-face melted down to become rather pretty. Her still ample chest was not only smaller, but firm and sexy. Observing her closer, I found that some wrinkles had crept into her forehead and cheeks, still showing that she was close to her retirement. The hanging dark wrinkly sacks below her eyes were gone, though - her faint wrinkles made Molly look rather distinguished and wise. Now that she wasn't obese anymore, her age showed, but she had aged gracefully. Her gray-dyed-red hair was no longer stubby and shabby, but full and elegant, even a bit longer than before. She still had applied too much lipgloss on her big cocksucker lips, though. "Jame. You're, like, jamming the queue," Jen-Lo urged. "What's the holdup?" - "Uh... how did you do that?" - "Do what?" - "Making Madam Molly less fat. You just said the words and..." Jen-Lo shook her head. "Jame, what are you talking about? Madam Dolly isn't fat. Like... women CAN'T be fat." - "What? Of course they..." - "They can't. It's a fact, you see?" "Hmpf." I looked at Jen-Lo's boobs, and she grinned and jiggled them. Her nipples suddenly seemed as if they were pointed at me. It dawned on me that she was a lot more attractive now - before, she had of course been a nice girl, but not very refined. Her large boobs had looked a bit square-ish. That trait was gone now. The breasts looked a bit smaller, but also rounder and smoother. Her rear was narrower and defined, not flabby anymore. And her waistline had reduced drastically. She would now look good in a swimsuit, I decided. I followed her swinging butt without wondering why I followed her. Instead, I pondered if the girls in this dream would ever wear a normal swimsuit. They wore less now, but it would look even more sexy. In the meantime, Jen-Lo found us a table and we placed our meals in front of us. I felt a bit embarrassed. Why was I so intent on staying at her side? Why hadn't I left her for my friends? My mother had given me an order in the morning, hadn't she? Damn it, I realized. I was in a dream, why follow stupid orders? They were probably also only dream orders. I wanted to talk to Richard and Maputo about the racing season. Or at least about girls, why they were so straightforward in this dream and yet so complicated. But no such luck. Neither Richard nor Maputo had been at class. They weren't here. Not even Nepal was at school. And my cell phone was broken and at home. No way to know where they were. Well, it was a dream. Dreams didn't need to be realistic, right? So, it was a dream about me getting laid, I thought. And of course my best friends shouldn't par