Limitless Wishes: Beauty In The Bathroom And The Great Makeover free porn video

[General Note:] This story is X-rated for a reason. The sequel to chapters 3+4, it starts in an alternate universe with a morality that in comparison to ours is... outlandish. It changes further. No gross things like torture or rape though. ==== Chapter Five: Beauty in the Bathroom ===== I followed my best friend Phill into the boys' room. My first impression was that the tiled floor was too cold. I was barefoot, but I couldn't really stand my heels. It was either the cold floor tiles or the heels. I chose to endure the icy floor. It was crowded; boys stood together in groups of two or three or four and gossiped. Many more stood at the mirrors and checked their makeup. Phill spotted a free place at the sinks and directed me there. I stared at my mirror image. That wasn't me! I remembered my old body, still. I had been just a normal black boy, who had turned 18 yesterday. Jamey Stan, still a high school student. I was 1.85m tall, weighing a fairly normal 82kg, having short black hair, dark eyes, and a plain, nice face. I didn't work out as much as my old best friend Maputo, who kept himself fit these days. Instead, I leaned more to the non-sporty side. I dressed pretty normal, too. Just like all the kids in school. Sure, there were the few black gang members who wore showy gold chains above their shirts. Fake gold, of course. But the only chain I had was a bronze one, and always below the shirt. It was one of the few things my father left me. I checked my neck for it now, but it wasn't there. I nodded absently - this had to be on the list of things to recover. Okay, I digress. I just want to explain: I was a decent guy. Father dead, religious mother, that sort of thing. I was never rebellious against anything. Always went along. So I never got into trouble, but it also didn't help my popularity. Not for the first time I realized that I had chosen to be the boring loser I was. Now there was also the memory of a different normality. Earlier this morning, I went to school in my best suit. I normally hated donning the church suit, because it was stiff and formal. But in the normality this morning, "normal" clothes meant just boxers and a sleeveless shirt - what in the real reality was underwear. In fact, everyone else just showed up in underwear at school. Except for women and girls, who all dressed like whores. I first had no idea where this normality came from. So, throughout my school day until lunch, I thought it was just a weird dream. Then, at lunch, I discovered that I could fulfill wishes. Whenever someone made a wish, I felt somehow as if my soul faded out of my body. Then, I was watching from the outside - while my body performed the miracle by just snapping its fingers. My fingers - my body's fingers, for all it was worth the fingers of a stranger in my body, even. The point: I had no control over it. Things became weird after I found out this wasn't a dream. Only a few moments ago, I found that I could also stay inside if I wanted a wish myself. Maybe there was even some way of leverage I had on the outcome. I wondered. Maybe I could grant wishes in the way that I wanted? As long as I didn't contradict the words of the wisher, of course? But those were idle thoughts. If I disagreed with the wish, I was still forced to grant it. Like most of the wishes today. If not all. Yeah. And that is how I got to be in this new body of mine. Just today, I got closer to my classmate Jen-Lo. (And my math teacher, but I want to forget about that affair.) Well, Jen-Lo and me already had sex during lunch. Yeah. In the lunchroom. Yeah. At least until one of the teachers complained about our noise and suggested we go outside for mating. My old, my real sense of normality still had problems grasping all those new normalities. Jen-Lo also discovered that I could fulfill wishes. She used my ability to change the gender roles. Now, it were the men who sashayed around like floozies. Come to think of it - we were floozies. Studs. Male- harlots. I watched inside the mirror and saw into my frightened brown eyes. My face? I looked at a floozy with ruined makeup. I had wavy, curly long black hair right down to my shoulders, dark smeared mascara around my eyes, and glossy lipstick on my puffy, pronounced lips. I had rainbow-colored glitter on my face. Powdered cheeks! Pink earrings, pink lip piercings, pink eyebrow piercings! I had shrunk around 15 centimeters in height, and my figure became a bit more delicate, although I had still typical male proportions. My legs were bare, but I had an unsure feeling. Male body hair was still a fact to be reckoned with. We would quite possibly have to shave our body daily. Okay, and there was one other major change. The big one. The one that every observer would recognize first. My perma-erect penis was pretty big in comparison to our old reality. I wasn't sure if really all men were enhanced that way. At least, Phill and me had pretty big guns. The other boys in the restroom were either naturally well endowed - or the new normality had a redefinition of "naturally well endowed," All I want to say, we were all pretty big. In our old normality we never compared our cocks by holding them next to each other. Now we ran around having them bared, so... Hm. I digress again. The big major change wasn't our boners. That was rather - a detail. No, the big change I was all alarmed about were the magically enlarged balls. And I mean large when I said enlarged. Huge. With both hands stretched all the way from pinky finger to thumb, I could only circumvent them when I squeezed a bit. This was not the only similarity to the mammaries of my 'girlfriend,' or should I say fuckmate, Principal Jen-Lo Keller. The balls were like girls' tits in another way: On their smooth hairless surface sat two miniscule nipples. As far as I could see, these nipples had no functionality, no other than being stiff whenever a woman looked at them. The whole constellation was sensitive and jiggling, and drawing the eyes of every woman towards them. And by extension, they would also have a good glance at our ready boner, and our ass probably. I knew I became aroused whenever a woman stared at my boys. Then I became horny and wet on my cock tip. It certainly had to do with another wish I couldn't remember. So that was the way of my new body. Mankind had become a caricature. I focused on my mirror image. All my once-impeccable makeup was in disarray, smeared with Jen-Lo's fluids. Still, this could easily be fixed. I wondered what the other boys were thinking of me, running around disheveled like this. In my mind, I formed a weird picture. I could see my face, what it should look like. Powdered, dark-red, flawless cheeks, my lips coated in a lilac- rose lipstick. My long eyelashes were decorated with tiny pearls of rose liquid at the tips. I had a nice, dark curve around the eyes, but they appeared to be highlighted in pink, too. A double eyeliner? It looked slu... well, that was the wrong word. Studdy was the right one. I gulped at that vision and blinked my eyes. I stared at my actual reflection in the mirror - it was the same as the vision I just had, but everything was in ruin. Would I be forced to touch up my makeup every time after sex? And how often would women require me to have sex? I sighed. If the events in the lunch hall were any indicator: Often. Phill handed me a tiny pink bag. "Here." I looked at the bag. It looked like a tiny legless sheep with its plushy wool surface. "What's that?" "Your purse, silly. I picked it up from the table back there. Right after you went fucking Miss Keller." "But this... this..." I resigned and took the bag from his hands and opened it. There wasn't much inside. Some feminine - er... masculine - products, it seemed. Two pencils, a pack of condoms, a small notebook in a pink cover. Two aspirin packages, deodorant, nail polish, a nail clipper. Pink eyeliner, black mascara, a mirror encased in pink, my smartphone (still broken, now in pink), a reddish powder with glitter that would look good on my cheeks... I shuddered. There was a dark wallet. Dark, hah. Dark purple. I didn't open it. I knew there must be a bit of money inside. ID, license, library card, all that. "This is my stuff?" I asked Phill. If I opened that wallet, I could confirm it myself, but I chose against. He nodded sincerely. I saw that he was worried about me. He bit his painted, full lips slightly. I quickly turned back to the mirror, checking for this detail. Full lips. I had them too, and even fuller and puffier. I had distinctive lips because of my race, but now they were obscenely painted and sensuous. Painted in a dark lilac-pink, no less, but the coating was smeared across half my face while the natural color was visible here and there. The natural color was a dark shade of pink, too. I squinted my eyes. Actually, the lipstick looked good on me. It really enhanced my look. "Pink is my style, isn't it?" I quavered. "Sure," Phill stood there, next to me and waiting for me. I realized he wanted to watch me fix my makeup. I became self-conscious. He wanted me to do my make-up in front of him? This was the moment of truth. I didn't know how to do this! In my real world, men weren't supposed to do this! Yeah, I really felt as if I was in another world now. Not only a few misplaced wishes away from my world - but instead I was in another universe that was eternities and light years away from everything I knew. I glanced at the other boys in front of the mirrors. They touched up their looks with ease. To me, they all looked like clowns. Pampered, painted, clowns dressed in little pieces of nothingness. I wondered if I could look as elegant as them. Gah! Damn, Jen-Lo. She wished that I'd LIKE the changes she did to me. She did this to all of mankind. As in man-kind. I wondered if all men around the world just changed their look the instant I snapped my fingers when Jen-Lo made that wish. The mere thought was horrible! And on top of it, only three people knew. Me, Phill, and Jen-Lo. I observed my neighbor on the right. He had already wiped his face with a small pad. Now he checked it and used another pad on some corners. Then he started with a replacement foundation... Damn, I didn't have time for that! My neighbor on the left just checked his flawless face critically, then quickly dabbed his lipstick here and there, and redid his eyelashes... I opened my purse and rummaged for the lipstick. I took it out and moved it towards my lips, only to have Phill snatch it out of my hand. He shook his head. "Jamey! Didn't your father teach you anything?" he whispered in my ear. I felt tears welling in my eyes. "No," I sobbed. Phill instantly realized his mistake. "Oh, no, that was nasty. Jamey, I'm so sorry." I sobbed again. "My dad's dead. You're supposed to know that, Phill." Phill put his hands around my hips, hugging me from behind. Not really from behind. Diagonally right behind, because his huge cock chafed at my right hip. I was nearly fainting. A man embraced me from behind, stroking my shoulders to comfort me. That must all be a horrible nightmare. I was too shocked to resist his comforting touch. Oh, no. He was comforting me. I felt better because of his embrace. How did that work? He led me a few meters away. I first wanted to shy away, but resisted the urge. Did this mean I was gay? I looked at him and hoped I wasn't gay. My tears were now flowing freely. He seemed oblivious to my despair and continued to hug me. It was okay, I guessed. I felt good. Maybe I was gay now. A gay floozy stud in makeup and frilly undergarment. "Sorry, I didn't think when I said that. I still didn't see each memory I should have," he told me. "I'm sorry that you lost your dad." I sniffled and wiped away my tears. My naked arm got stains from the makeup, but I didn't care. There were a few more tears, but the strange flurry of emotions subsided already. There was some magic to Phill's warm touch that calmed me down. I didn't even know which part of his original remark had cut deeper: That he suggested I wasn't a real man when I didn't know to apply makeup. Or that he reminded me that I was half an orphan. Or that he implied my father - a big strong man, decidedly rooted in my original reality - was like the... the... faggot-men in this bizarro world! I sobbed again when I realized I just called myself a faggot in my own mind. But I wasn't! I was a man! Who did manly things! Like... Manly things, like sashaying in heels, wearing tons of lipstick in my face, being a pretty fuckbuddy for a woman... So I wasn't gay! I was straight. Totally normal in this world. I didn't need men to console... Ah, now that was wrong. I needed someone. This redhead goth boy with his big testes and his long erection and his ridiculous black leather garments was my best friend ever who'd known me for many years. I hiccuped. My best friend for many years. For at least half an hour! I cried again, with short hiccups of giggles. How could all this have happened? And how could I make Phill believe me? "Jame, is there something I should know?" I sniffled and wiped my tears away again. I looked my best friend in the green eyes. "Yeah, but it's hard to explain..." "It's Miss Keller, right?" Jen-Lo Keller. Yesterday my shy, gray mouse classmate. Lesbian even, if I interpreted her comments right. Now, she was the stunningly handsome principal of our school, and I was her love toy. Or something. I hadn't figured it out, exactly. "Yeah... Jen-Lo," I said grimly. He nodded. "I guess I know what happened. She turned you into a guy, just before you met me. Right?" "What??" My emotional roller-coaster was now safely away from the sadness and desperation and back at wondering what turn this crazy world might make next. Phill shook his head with a knowing smile. "It's easy to figure it out, but chalk it up to male intuition. You said you fulfill wishes. And you're right. You made my testes bigger and I'm your best friend now. For years, even. That means you can change the past. You can change reality." He looked at me. Okay, that was exactly what I already considered. I shrugged and nodded. "Now, see? But, I don't know what other people changed before my wish!" He smiled a smart smile, as if I was totally lacking any wits. Maybe in that moment I really lacked them, I was so genuinely estranged from everything around me. Phill said: "You act totally clueless about everything. Especially about being a boy. It just occurred to me. You aren't a boy by nature. Instead, you act like a woman who was changed into a boy. Lot's of women dream about being male. We're the fair gender, after all. Pretty and graceful." I stood dumbfounded. The goth in front of me looked down on his assets, then back up to me. Just a few minutes ago, I granted his wish to have bigger balls and a larger cock. The same size as the new me, in fact. He had not been this well endowed before. I could hardly consider him 'pretty' or 'graceful' even now. My brain was hard-wired to see him as a weird cross-dresser who looked like a clown. Sure, he moved quite elegantly. The other boys did, too. For that matter, my build wasn't different from them in any way. And we were not gay or abnormal, I hoped. We just had this different role model now. Femininity and masculinity were reversed. I started: "Look, I gave you that larger cock and balls you wanted, but..." I stopped frustrated when I saw the expression on his face. Disgust? Curiosity? Pity? "Shhh," Phill whispered. "Don't tell everyone. And you see, you just confirmed it. Boys don't say 'balls' and... and... you know. That's how girls refer to our parts. You need to think of them as your 'testes'. 'Scrotum' if you want to be scientific. If you want be brash about it, say 'nads'. Cojones for exotic. But never 'balls'. And forget about the c-word. That one's the absolute no-no." "Okay..." I managed, flustered. "I think I figured it out myself, Jame. You are really a girl, now stuck in this great male body." I was flabbergasted. My jaw dropped, I closed it, and then it dropped again, while Phill observed me cross-armed. "No, Phill..." "You know, being a boy isn't half as bad as you might think. Okay, we're not as strong and we have all the emotions that girls aren't used to. I guess your testosterone flush got into the wrong channels already and has overwhelmed you. But you have to know that you have a really nice body. You're rather big-nadded, but girls really like that. A lot of men would kill to have your body. You're being dealt a good card. You could pull off Homecoming King, if you schmooze the right people..." I groaned. Really? I was pretty? I probably had sex on the drop of a hat. Just look at the pierced peace of meat that I was! Next thing Phill would suggest I should concentrate on a career as a pole dancer. Phill even seemed to know what I was thinking: "Okay, you're not so limber as to try exotic dancing or cheerleading. You're the cute boy next door. Don't get me wrong. The really cute, sweet boy that every father would like as his son-in-law." "Marriage," I whispered. That was all I was now worth for, was it? "My grades aren't good, Phill," I confessed. "The way I look - what am I good for when I drop out of school? I will only make a housewife, will I?" "Houseband, man," he corrected me. "See, I told you, you're still thinking like a girl. But you're not totally wrong. You're only still at school because you're Principal Keller's favorite. You..." I motioned him to stop. I didn't want to hear the details. The bad thing was, I was a girl-man. Man-girl. Only that girls were now like men. The worse thing, now: I was slowly accepting it. The more I knew about my supposed role, the more I couldn't help but get accustomed to it. It was true: I was a bad student. What waited for me after high school wasn't really a career. It would be day-to-day jobs, if I was lucky. Social welfare if I wasn't. Well - in the old reality. All that wasn't as much of a problem if I could just be the pampered love toy of a wealthy high school principal. All I needed to do was wear the most masculine attire and be good in bed. Phill was already talking again, and I forced myself to listen. He seemed oblivious to my desperate thoughts. "...just say that because of the long time that... umm... that I'm supposed to have known you. Because of the best friends thing. But now, with your new ability, with a small _wish_ I can change your body to become whatever you want. More agile or more..." This time I gasped when the wish-keyword turned up so unexpectedly. My hand jerked up and I realized that I liked the proposition Phill just made. It really would be great. If Phill just, for example, touched my body, I could then will my body to transform into the shape I wanted. Great, great, great! I could already imagine it. My fingers snapped. Phill's jaw dropped. "Did you just..." "Grant your wish? You bet," I smiled, proud of him. "Fuck, I didn't make a _wish_!" he protested. At his keyword, my hand shot up, my fingers ready. Phill put his hand over his mouth. I gave him a cold stare. People really needed to stop wishing on accident. I motioned him to speak. A tiny wish, again, we agreed on. The last time he made 'a really tiny' wish, he ended up as my best friend ever. He sighed. "I _wish_ I knew what's going on in your head," he said, coolly. I mentally revolted. It was one thing to get a best friend out of nowhere, but it was entirely different to have him read your mind! But my inner protest couldn't do anything against it. Instead, my consciousness got pushed out of my body yet again and my hand snapped the fingers on its own. Like a flexing rubber band, the mental me and the physical me snapped together once I had fulfilled the wish. I tried to blank my mind. I had to keep my memories safe somehow. I thought about racing cars. There was the new Chevrolet CruzR 2TT. Small chance that it could become premium model in the upcoming WTCC rankings, but it would still be best American car next year, with just a slim modification on the throttle and with a... I tried to remember the fact sheets. Didn't I even see an image of the older Cruze model in that book Richard gave me? Asian motorsports favored Honda, I remembered. Still, that book concentrated on rallies, and if I remembered correctly, the top model mentioned in the Gobi World Race was a Chinese car from a manufacturer I never heard of. No big surprise in China. Yet, the second best model was a Ford, which struck me as especially odd because... "Stop it, Jamey," I heard Phill's voice. "Stop right now." I looked at his face. I noticed there were tiny freckles. I tried to remember a freckle-faced driver in motor sports, but... "Stop it!" he hissed. "I nearly wi... I mean, sorry. I don't want to intrude into your mind. Ouch, don't be so afraid, boy! I'm your best friend, and if you want me to change you back, I'll do it. Of course, not here." He waved at the bathroom. Now I knew that was pity in his eyes. He had it all figured out, had he? Change me back? To be a girl, just because the girls were now the... the hunks!? Fuck him... Okay, that wasn't a nice thought towards my best friend. He was just a victim like me. But how could I explain everything to him? I could hardly believe all the changes myself. I couldn't help but envision myself, being the normal boy I had been. I could almost see myself naked in the mirror of the bathroom in our small apartment. "You're... really a boy?" whispered Phill. "So plain and ill, I can nearly understand that you prefer... wait, that limp penis is not an illness?" Illness? In my mind it was an illness to have a perma-erection. "Uh..." I stammered. "I think..." But Phill didn't stop his one-sided conversation. "And you didn't have any testes that were worth... okay, stop thinking about these hairy ugly things! Arghh! Why would you ever want to be back in this horror body? Yeah, okay, I get it that... Okay, but... Okay, sorry for reading your thoughts... don't be angry. There, there." I leaned against the cold tiled wall, sobbing again, while Phill put his slim, warm arm around my waist. It was oddly comforting. I knew that if I bolted out of his embrace, things would only get worse. I couldn't even walk right! And my makeup wasn't fixed. Ah! I needed to get rid of it! Anyway, there was no way I could storm out of the bathroom, even if I wanted. Phill was a horrible person for reading my thoughts, but I could feel he meant well. He was my best friend. He soothed me, embracing me just at the right spot to make me feel safe and comfortable. "I'm really a boy," I blurted out. "Man through and through. I don't want to lose my manhood. Never ever!" "Okay," he replied simply. His painted face seemed skeptical. I couldn't blame him. He only remembered this reality, I was sure. He didn't know what it was to be a real man. With real, I mean... being strong and... powerful... "Jamey, you don't know even half of what it is to be a man in my... in our... in this reality. You will see it is good. I promise," Phill stroked my back and stopped immediately when I shivered at his touch. I was aware that he still read my thoughts, reacting to the slightest emotion or memory that surfaced my mind. For example, the thought of being a 'strong man', that I just had. As a man... or better, as a boy, I hadn't been strong or powerful. I hadn't been exactly a wimp, but now I felt as if I'd been one. Sure, Phill could now probably change me into my dream figure. That was great. But a body builder figure seemed... wrong, suddenly. I would rather be a beautiful masculine doll. High-heels, big assets in the crotch, a presentable but not packed chest. The minuscule hands, the long shaved legs, the long hair, the long eyelashes, the perfect makeup. Just, why? What was wrong with me? I could sense that I somehow accepted my momentary body. Jen-Lo's wish. Fuck her. I blushed when I thought about her. Phill told me she was my 'bedmate'. I thought of a huge, red satin four-poster bed. Bedmate just implied this. In my next imagination, the huge king-sized bed had me sprawled in the middle, giggling and writhing in the soft sheets. I wore nothing but a bowed red ribbon around my waist. And bunny ears. Then, Jen-Lo appeared in my thoughts, holding me from behind against her strong bust. I imagined relaxing against her. I could already feel the stirring muscles of her hairy vagina chafing against my tender ass... A scent of roses was in the air, mixed with the musky female odor that Jen-Lo exuded, and... BEDMATE! I rebelled at the thought. I was a man, not a painted fuck toy! Phill coughed and woke me up from those horribly pleasant daydream. How much had he seen? "Everything," he said matter-of-factly. My eyes widened. "Please don't tell..." "...anyone that I can read your mind?" he finished my sentence and laughed. "Hardly." Still, there was a weird feeling in my gut. When I though about Jen-Lo, the tip of my co... manhood became wet. The nipples on my testes stood. Was I in love with her? This woman had used me! How could I love her? I groaned. That was the problem. I loved her. She was smart and strong, had money and a career, and when she had me in her arms, I melted away. Sure, I hated her for what she did to me and my body, but I loved her, too. I couldn't even tell my best friend about all this. Or could I? I wasn't used to this new world. Anyhow, Phill wasn't my best friend. Only because of his wish, a few minutes ago. Before, I didn't even know his name. He was a total stranger. Oh, wow, after that last two wishes, he was also the person who had nearly total control of my appearance and my thoughts. Okay, so better not keep him a total stranger. Oh crap, now that he read those thoughts, he was certainly pissed when I thought of him in this cold, calculating way. But he was a real person, warm and gentle and holding me, so I needed him badly. Then again, could I really trust him... "Come on, at least put on your heels." Phill spoke into my twirly-twisted thoughts, bursting them like a soap bubble. He presented me a pair of sandals in his left hand. They were pink and white - the ones that I'd shed outside, in the dining hall. I realized that my whole body shivered. My feet were freezing, and my legs too. I stood barefoot on the tiles. "Thanks for picking them up. You're really my best friend," I said with gratitude. Although I loathed the idea of putting on high heels, my feet were cold. And then there was Jen-Lo's wish that caused me to slowly like the idea of high-heels. Wait, did I now like the heels or not? Phill explained that Jen-Lo was half a head taller than me. Yeah, I remembered that too. So, if I wanted to look her in the eyes, I'd need heels? At least, that was now reasonable. I couldn't bear the thought of wearing heels because of fashion, or because of the whim of a stupid wish. But if I could offset a physical disadvantage just by the right tool, I was all for it. People don't wear glasses as fashion statements, either. If I was short, I needed heels. Easy. I took the sandals and examined one. The largest and most massive part in the construction was the long wooden heel. It was really long. More than 10cm. 12? 14? I bowed and shoved it on my foot, while holding to the wall. When I stood on both heels, it felt as if I stood on my toes. Then I relaxed on my heel. Ouch. I would have mostly to balance on my tiptoes. Still, it wasn't nearly as much as a problem as I feared. I just had to move differently. Just. Haha. In my old reality I didn't know how women could stand walking in high heels. They did so elegantly and with confidence. Well, men moved differently. I had observed the new men only shortly, but there was a certain swagger in their stride. Elegance and confidence? Check, of course. They all had heels. But I had no idea how to do it myself. I shifted uncomfortably. Instead of forcing a straight back like I had seen women do, I felt a lot better when I slouched down a bit. Nah. Men had a different body mass distribution than women. Also than men in the old reality. My ba... testes were dominating my crotch, each being the size of my head. To keep them under control, I needed a certain manly swaggering. For that, I needed to lean my torso a bit back and hunch my shoulders slightly. To maintain that stance, I ended up sticking out my co... manhood on purpose. The penis directly atop the testes acted like a pendulum when walking. As a spectator, when other men walked past me in that posture, I first choked in amusement. But to maintain balance, we needed a precise timing and absolute control over our body. We needed to coordinate the swaggering thighs with the swinging movements of the balls. My slightly hunched shoulders needed to move as counterbalance, and I had to lean my upper body back into a dangerous slanted position. A light wind would blow me to ground. My body was petite, after all. I took a few tentative steps. My ba... testes proved to be the problem. They were ridiculously oversized. Were they smaller, I'd have less of the balance act. Phill shook his head and snatched my arm. "Stop this right now. You can't test your walk in heels here. Everyone can tell you're an impostor." I looked at my balls. Argh. Not balls - testes, of course. I wanted smaller ones. And to my surprise they shrank. They partly receded into my body. They still had a certain size. On a female breast, they'd rate what? I asked Phill, but he only knew that his new 'Coy-size' was called a '130D+'. He estimated my 'Coy-size' around '120D-' I didn't have the slightest idea what those measurements meant, anyway, so I was just content to be smaller than him. I looked into the mirror and was aghast when I saw my ruined makeup. I thought again about how it should look. The over-masculine makeup appeared within moments. My full lips were suddenly a marvel in their own right, puckered and in the dark-pink that matched my dark skin-tone perfectly. The arched, thin eyebrows, the tiny pink-silvered liquid drops on my long eyelashes, the dark red shade on my cheeks - it all became just like I had envisioned it before. I tried to remove the piercings, too, but failed. The piercings were permanent? That was worrisome. Phill breathed in sharply when I fixed my makeup within moments. I smiled when I remembered his wish. He simply needed to touch me, and I could change how I looked. And I even knew that he knew, because he could read my thoughts. I smiled at my beautiful appearance. Well, beautiful in the new reality, probably. Then I realized that I could just ask Phill to wish everything back! Undo every wish! "Jamey..." I heard Phill's voice. "That's not a good idea, just so you know." Why not? I thought, and Phill took me to the side again, whispering: "We have class in a few minutes, and when I look at all your jumbled memories of your old reality, I see something odd. We can't just reverse everything." Yes, we could. I thought. We should, even. For example, this bathroom was way too cold for my taste. We needed our normal clothes back, and our normal gender identities, and... "No, Jame," Phill shook his head. He leaned over my shoulder, whispering in my ear. "But you're right on some other account. I always wanted the restrooms to be warmer and less clinical. More luxurious, too," He pointed at the queues of boys who were waiting at the stalls. "Now, with you as my friend..." Phill grinned. "I _wish_ that the bathroom becomes larger and can fulfill every desire that the boys in here need." Again I tried to fight it, but the mental counterpart of a dark cloud blocked me out of control. My fingers moved on their own, and the room changed. First, it became more spacious, additional stalls and urinals appeared on the walls. The queues of boys quickly dispersed. Then, more sinks appeared, with large full-body mirrors instead of the small frames that had been there before. Next, the urinals disappeared from the wall, making way for completely stocked vanity tables, where boys stood shoulder to shoulder and gave each other fashion tips. Magazines on makeup were lying around, giving the bathroom an intense flair of familiarity. I took in the changes. It looked incredible and more luxurious by the second. Then, I saw that the old toilet stalls disappeared, one by one! Whirling around, I found the urinals had reappeared at the oval structure in the middle of the enlarged bathroom. They were now small, leather-padded chairs. Boys straddled them and peed - or masturbated - into tight, rubbery openings that looked suspiciously like vaginas, and resembled girl figurines more and more with every moment. The urinal-chairs had another opening in the middle of the seat, too. This allowed for a dump. It shocked me first that there was no privacy, no walls around them. But when I looked at all our nice beautiful bodies, mincing around like proper gentlemen, I realized that we didn't have anything to hide in front of each other. Even at the urinals in our old life, boys could peek at the equipment of others. I frowned at my thoughts just that moment. I never tried to peek at other boys, had I? And I definitely didn't have ball envy or that crap. Big deal, a tiny voice in my head said. I had large... testes, so other boys rather envied me, now. There were other things I'd envy others for, however. For example, I had nice proportions, but there were always prettier boys when it came to... I called my galloping thoughts to order. I frowned even more. How could I start thinking in this way? Why should I care about being 'pretty'? I concentrated on my quickly changing surroundings again. Next to one of the large marble columns in the middle of the hall, another oval structure appeared, consisting of sinks at hip height. Boys went there and washed their genitals with warm, scented water after they finished at the urinals. Only then did they step to the hand sinks, and afterwards to the vanity tables. There were also showers in the room, and with every passing minute they became more luxurious. First only normal ones with blinking chromium triple-shower heads, they quickly became fully automated octuple steam- massagers, distributed equally everywhere in the crystal mirror walls. There were even a couple of bathtubs. The bathtubs became bigger. Then a third and fourth appeared. Then, in the middle of the arrangement, a crack opened in the floor and a small whirlpool was created. It grew larger, and the eight - no, ten, twelve - bathtubs also sank down into the floor. They became kidney-shaped pools too, each one large enough to accommodate three persons. The whirlpool in the middle was for larger groups even, maybe ten. I dimly realized that "everything a boy needs in a bathroom" was a wish with a wide range. Boys' expectations of a proper bathroom grew with each addition, it seemed. In the anteroom hall, new brightly-colored dispensers waited to deliver condoms, lube, diet snacks, lace slips, sex toys, soft drinks, lipsticks, nail varnish or cheap plastic high-heels. I didn't like high heels. I'd prefer going barefooted, even. I needed to mention this to Phill. Maybe he could wish that we didn't need those torture shoes. They were created for women in the normal life, I thought. Men had no use for them. The bathroom grew each moment. Groups of leather couches stood near pools for foot baths. There were a few waterbeds hidden inside the winter garden, half concealed between the growing coconut palm trees. Steam escaped every time that someone opened the large sauna gates. I turned to Phill, who stood agape and stunned. Phill was the only one else who seemed to notice the changes. Everyone else behaved as if everything was normal. Of course, I realized. Phill made that wish. He was the only one who would believe me! A new dispenser formed in the anteroom near to where we were standing. This time it was for piercing rings. Just as it appeared, a new door became visible in a blank wall. The outlines formed into hinges, and letters appeared: "Piercing studio," One boy took an earring out of the dispenser and walked in. The letters on the door switched only moments later: "Piercing and tattoo studio," Then: "Piercing, tattoo and nail studio". Then "Beauty Body Mod Salon". I heard a gasp from Phill and watched the goth angrily. "See? That's why you shouldn't wish any wishes before thinking!" I thought at him angrily. Phill winced slightly when I thought it. A whirlpool shifted into existence next to the Jell-O wrestling arena. That arena was empty, however. This was when I noticed that the whole... the "bathroom"... was nearly empty now. Everyone who was still here was either late for class or had a free period. Two younger boys hurried past us. Both wore a light blue ruff, matching high heels and nearly no body jewelry, only large flower tattoos on their naked chests. They stopped for a moment in front of the mirror wall, trying to fix their long wet hair - it was ass-long and braided. "I _wish_ we boys needn't go to class!" one of them gasped. I smiled when I heard the exclamation. How often had I wished that myself! Then you could just chill out and do other things - let those other students sweat! Only a fraction of a second later my mind registered that what I heard was a wish. My hand was already raised. I stiffened involuntarily. Oh no! Only go to class when I feel like it? No! The wishes changed things in the past, and I knew my old attitude towards studying. Would this make my nightmare of being a demure houseman come true? As before, my consciousness watched from outside my body while I snapped my fingers. Just as I did, the constant changes of the bathroom abruptly stopped. The two younger boys were now giggling and grinning at each other while they washed their hands. They slowly left the bathroom, no longer in a hurry. In return, a stream of men and boys walked into the bathroom, dispersing in the wideness of the hall. Halls. The atmosphere in the bathroom got busy again, but it was a different type of busy. No one hurried anymore. I was hard-pressed telling whether the place now looked like a cathedral or a spa. A mixture of both, I guessed. The high school bathroom had become a temple of wellness and beauty. At least the constant changes had stopped. I believed I slowly understood how these wishes worked... it seemed that every wish that affected normality would be active until a new wish came along. Was it that? Now, what had happened before school started today? How did I get this amazing ability? I still couldn't remember. ==== Chapter Six: The Great Makeover ===== I looked around me once more. The "Beauty Body Mod Salon" had also stopped changing now. Well, it wasn't just one shop at the side of the bathroom. It was already a two- story glass-and-mirror mall along the side of the restroom. Yeah, right. A veritable mall, with an elevator and stairs, a balustrade and arcades. There were separate studios for nails, hair, piercings, fashion tattoos, plus an ice cream concession stand and shops for shoes, ruffs, jewelry and one store with a crude sign that read 'fetish fashion.' One of Phill's goth friends walked by. Because of the implanted memories of my new friendship, I knew the boy: Steve Bulder, who was called 'Bulgey' by his friends. Phill's goth outfit - leather vest, rubber hose, penis-concealing undergarment - seemed prudish in comparison to Bulgey. Like me, Steve wore only a metal hoop, but his was without the ruff. Instead, there were black metal spikes pointing out, held together by black lace. Steve had a choker with a similar style around his neck, with finger-long pointed barbs; and there were more similar looking accessories around his ankles and wrists. And on his stiff penis, of course! Just behind the circumcised glans, an intimidating spiked lace ring would prevent any intercourse - just like the spiky barbell piercing through the tip. I knew from my implanted memories, that Steve was a virgin. Well, his squared face wasn't super attractive, so Steve knew how to hide it behind a thick facade of makeup. Mostly black mascara, black lip-stick and a sickly gray finish. He had a pale skin and cautiously avoided all sunshine. It looked hideous and ensured his status as a virgin. I briefly thought about dressing similarly. At least I wouldn't be a fuck toy anymore. I glanced at Phill. The pretty redhead with his tiny freckles had a certain beauty, and had a very elegant swagger on himself - Steve was a totally different type. Although Steve and Phill were so different in appearance, they were both goths and good friends. Before Phill's wish to be best buddies with me, Steve was most probably Phill's old best friend. With my altered friendship memories, I also got a certain tolerance to their goth fashion and trends. I could even stand the sinister presence of Steve 'Bulgey' Bulder. Otherwise, I would have bolted away already. I was only in drag myself, I suddenly remembered. But I pushed the crude thought away easily. Just another sign of accepting Jen-Lo's wish. I even felt somehow grateful that she wished it. I was accepting the acceptance wish, probably. That was a good thing, or I would be on the verge of a mental breakdown. It was funny how I could consider it all to be pretty good, instead. "Hey, Phill-Phally! Oh, hey Jammy," Steve greeted us. Steve disliked me for obvious reasons: because I was 'adapted' and a willing whore for every woman that came along. Especially our principal, it seemed. At least, I had those implanted memories now. Phill often rebuked me for being "studdy and overly masculine". We had those long discussions often, and... arrgh! This wasn't real! I greeted Steve enthusiastically, as if I didn't care about what he thought of me. "Hi Bulgey." I realized that there were also my 'real' memories. Those were strongly disagreeing with everything in this wish-changed world. Both memories were fighting with each other. I suppressed a sigh. If I could make a wish myself, I would wish that my old self would just fold and accept this insane reality. Yeah, my old self would wish that I could reverse all the wishes. But even my best friend had advised against it. And Phill would know best - he could read my thoughts, after all. "So, let's go upstairs to the 'fetish fashion' store," Steve commanded and dragged Phill along. "Wait, wait, wait," I insisted and held them back. "We need to go to class first," I still remembered the intense lectures I experienced only a few hours earlier. During math, I had been compelled to listen to Mrs. Wender's every word. Also the Spanish class afterwards... If lessons were now always this good, I'd really like high school. No kidding, despite all the changes. And I'd need a break later, so that I could figure out how to fix stuff. And for that break, I needed to be with Phill. Alone, so that my best friend could reverse all wishes. "Class?" Steve snorted. "Why do you bother?" A bit flushed, Phill coughed. "Jamey's right, Bulgey, we should be in class now... In fact, I have no idea why the other boys aren't..." "'Cause only teacher's pet nerds go to class, stupid. We're BOYS, we're excused from classes whenever we feel like it." Phill looked at him with round eyes, and I guessed that I looked similarly flabbergasted. "What? How? Why?" Steve shook his head. "You know why: you just choose a handsome woman after school, marry her and have a wonderful life as her house-band. Everyone knows." Everyone knows. Everyone but me and Phill, I thought. Damn, that was the two younger boys' wish that they didn't need to be in class! The consequences were clear: uneducated men, and they had somehow the role of the submissive gender, too! "Face it, studs," Steve just said and faced the mall entrance again. "Studying is girl stuff." I whispered a comment on that to Phill. Phill whispered back: "Shhh. I'm wondering. It seems that nobody in the world remembers masculism and the ewomancipation movement!" "Mascu..." Dammit. I remembered that Phill had other memories of "the normal world" than me. A few new memories of our friendship swapped into my mind. And... had the world really been normal before? What was real here? Or was I still caught in this dream? "Damn, your stupid buddy Jammy has already his old lady who will take care of him," complained Steve. "I hate this world. I really hate it." I agreed, but for different reasons. Steve frowned at me when I agreed. There was nothing else to do, since we didn't need to go to class. Phill and I motioned to each other: We would get rid of Steve, and then make some wishes. But Steve didn't go. He wanted to go shopping. Shopping! I nearly hurled when the topic came up, but Phill slapped me on the back, encouraging me. "Come on. A few hours of shopping won't hurt, and afterwards we can go home and reverse a few things!" Hours? I whimpered. Shopping for hours with my male friends? I tried to excuse myself, but Phill was relentless. He could read my thoughts, but he seemed not to care. So there was no escape. Phill and Steve showed me into their damnable fetish fashion store. They were recurring customers there, it seemed. 'Fetish Fashion' wasn't so named because it was your standard clothes shop. That much was obvious. But I had no idea anyway, what a standard clothes shop offered, anyway. Probably nothing but those "ruffs" and miniskirts for men. Well, inside here were a few customers with really strange outfits. In contrast to everyone else, most of them had their love sticks concealed, and were clad in much more cloth than I would have guessed. I realized that "fetish fashion" in my new reality meant more clothes than usual. I plucked the edges of my skimpy pink outfit. I was practically in the nude. Not that I minded, just an observation. "Fetish" meant, obviously, to cover more of your body. Like Phill was doing - Phill wore a strange one-piece that covered not only his testes, but even his penis. Steve was a different sort, his fetish was a normal skimpy outfit, but covered in spikes. So much was obvious. Steve led us into the corner with black goth outfits. There was lots of lace and spandex, silvery and dull metal, rag-style or Victorian-era clothes. Phill sighed as he looked at a semi-transparent thing. I thought it was a tuxedo, until Phill explained it was a frock. "It's so soft and fine, I'd love to buy it!" "Don't you dare to wish anything," I hissed at him. "We need to get out of here ASAP!" I was especially interested WHY I had this crazy power. I had the feeling that my blurry memories and my occasional headache had something to do with this. The headache had appeared first in Mrs. Wender's class... "Calm down, Jamey," said Phill. "Hey, do you think these shelf boxers make my testes look smaller?" I scowled, and he winced, probably reading my mind. "Okay, Jamey!" Steve shoved something at my chest. "Go to the dressing room and try this." "Nah," I held the heavy outfit away from me. My skimpy damned pink ruff on the hoop was a bad thing - but at least that garb was the normal thing now. There was no way I would dress extreme and be like a goth! "What is it anyway?" I fingered the stiff, heavy black cotton, and found that there were bracers and clasps out of a white and lightweight material. Then I got it: this was made out of bones! With a tiny shriek, I thrust the dress back at Steve. "What's THAT supposed to be?" "You're dumb? It's a whalebone corset! I tell ya, women dig a tiny waist." "Maybe," I smiled, engrossed. "But I don't. Thanks." Steve sighed. "Oh come on. They'd swoon all over you. And don't look so disgusted, it's fake whalebones anyway. They don't slaughter whales for it anymore." I nodded weakly. "Sure. I know," I lied. "Still not interested in your bone corset." "Hey, you could at least try!" Steve argued. He liked to be the boss. "Two hundred years ago, every boy only wore this, instead of a ruff. The guys really looked beautiful in it! They were tight-lacing since childhood and..." "Bah, I don't care about it, Steve." Steve made a grumpy face. "I _wish_ you'd like fashion as much as me." "NO!" Phill shouted at him, but I'd already raised my hand and snapped just when Bulgey's wish tingled in my ears. Just one moment later, I suddenly realized how big the shop really was. There were maybe one thousand outfits here, and if you combined two items, that was like a million choices. A billion, a trillion if you combined more. I looked around and licked my lips. Of course, most of those trillion choices were rubbish. Not matching because of size and color and pattern. But the potential was so big! I'd need to carefully explore the shop... I was already at the right starting point for dressing up in a provocative way. I'd need either corsetry (Victorian style) or cojoni?res (modern style). I could then combine either style with a baby doll for some great effects. Or an umbrella dress with a corset. Or... a smile crept into the corners of my mouth when I thought of the possibilities. I looked at the skimpy black corset that Steve still held in his hands. It was the right size, but it was black and not my style. No... I skipped a few models that were on display in the racks. Hmm... "Jamey?" Phill carefully asked me. "Sure?" I smiled, while walking through the aisles to find an inspiration. Phill cleared his throat. "Jamey, I know you're not yourself here. I could reverse what Steve just did to you." I frowned. "What? So that I stay in this ridiculously unimaginative outfit? Like hell you're reversing Bulgey's wish," I pointed at my clothes. Especially the pink ruff on the metal collar was simply boring. How could I entice Jen-Lo with this, anyway? "But..." "This is the one time that the wishes worked in my favor! I love choosing new dresses, just so you know," I knew that it was the acceptance wish. But having a fashion sense was a good change. I knew Phill was reading my thoughts, so I conveyed it to him in my mind. Phill seemed torn. "It's not like don't like your new personality. I love shopping just as much. But the old you wouldn't forgive me." I looked at all the great garments on the racks. Of course, they were totally abnormal compared to jeans, boxers, t-shirts and all that old- reality stuff. I had clear memories of my old self. But there was the wish by Jen-Lo, that I would come to like the outcome of the wishes. And I liked to like fashion. "You were dressing very masculine before!" Phill pointed out. "Bulgey is into a totally - " I interrupted him in my thoughts. 'Bulgey can cream my ass, Phill. I'm not into his style.' I wouldn't dare to say that aloud, of course. Steve was still a mean looking bastard, even if he now was physically inferior to most women. Phill seemed to relax. "That's... a relief." Steve now looked quizzical, only hearing Phill's side of the conversation. "Excuse me, just what are you two going on about? I know you're trying to keep something secret from me, but you're not doing it really good." I sighed and glanced at Phill. "Want me to tell him?" Phill set up a smug expression. "He will just claim this is cowshit. To be honest, I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen the proof. There is a better way. I _wish_ that Steve knows everything about your wish ability." Yeah, that was a good one. I snapped my fingers and watched Steve's face. It was great to see how Steve's jaw dropped. I smirked seeing his shocked expression. This was so much better than having to explain all the details over and over again. But then, something unexpected happened: Steve bent and toed in. He tried covering his penis and testes with his hands. His face became frightened - or angry - or horrified. I saw tears forming in the corners of his eyes. I looked at Phill, but the redhead was possibly just as surprised as me. "Yeah, Jame," Phill said. I was puzzled, and looked back and forth between Phill and Steve. Why did he say... "Yeah, I was just surprised, Jame," He frowned at me. Of course! It hit me, he was telepathic now. That was good, he could just find out what happened to... "No, Jame. I can't read Steve's thoughts, only yours... Aaaand no, Jame, I'm not going to wi... make it so that I can read Steve's thoughts too." He was answering my thoughts before I could even speak them. It seemed he missed not a single notion. Usually it's possible to just think your part in a conversation and politely say something else. But with Phill now listening to my thoughts, I couldn't hide anything. "No Jame, I really can't stop reading your thoughts. I don't even know how it happens, I just know everything you are thinking about just now. It's like a flood of thoughts swapping from your mind to mine," He blushed when I thought he could just wish for it to stop. "'kay, Jame, that is a really good idea. I _wi..." Steve, still bent in a fetal position on the floor, let out a whimper, then a shout. Then he screamed in his deep basso voice. His wailing rose and and ebbed like a siren, and like a siren, his volume slowly increased. The shop assistant quickly hurried towards us and stared together with me and Phill at the pale-faced goth with his many thorns and spikes. He was hunched between a fetal position and the stance of a man who just got kicked in his nuts. I mean, testes. I mean, testicles in the old world. This new reality offered men a well- padded department down there. Sure, it would hurt to get kicked at the scrotum, but the same would be true for women and breasts. I guessed, at least. I never heard of a woman who was immobilized because someone punched her in the bosom. "I _wish_ you'd all just leave me alone until I get this figured out," Steve whined, when the clerk tried asking him what the problem was. His desperate wail was now interrupted and he didn't start it again. I could clearly see the flowing stream of tears from Steve's eyes, though. "Ooookay, Mr. Bulder," The shopkeeper friendlily patted Steve's thighs. Then he stood. "Just let me know if I need to call for medics, or your parents, or... ah, well," He no longer looked at Steve 'Bulgey' Bulder, but turned to Phill instead. "Sorry, Mr. Wetgal, do you need anything here?" It seemed that the last phrase was aimed at Phill. It just occurred to me that he had a last name. "Uhm, no, I'm just here with my good friend Jamey Ngiwim and..." "Jamey Stan," I interrupted. I really had a question I needed help with: "I'd like to know if you had more colorful clothes? Especially corsets, most of them are black here..." He nodded. "Of course, but there is little market for colored corsets at a high school, I'm afraid. Despite what the big labels say, I _wish_ always that things were different from strict fashion rules." That was my cue to snap my fingers. When I granted his wish for things to be 'different,' I tried to include all kind of colored fashion into being 'different' on the market. With the snapping of my finger, the shop erupted in bright, cheerful colors. Even the black fetish mini- dress of the shop clerk became a light blue one with cute little white crossed bones. The clerk didn't notice. He had answered my question and was already scurrying back to the sales counter where a men wanted to pay for bright yellow, knee-high leather heels. Nobody but me and Phill recognized the changes. I was pretty proud of myself, however. I could remember that Maputo once told me how genies and fairies could always twist wishes. I don't know why he told me that, but it must have been quite recently. Maybe even yesterday, but my memories of my birthday were quite foggy. I needed to find out why, but not now. Now I should celebrate. I had a little bit of control over the wishes now. If I could think quickly enough, I could change many wishes into my own interpretation. That was an improvement from mindlessly fulfilling them literally. Phill's jaw was still dropped to the floor. I teetered to him and hugged him from the side. I first thought of a frontal hug, but then realized that our equipment would get in the way. He responded to the hug and put his arm around my hips, too. "And now, let's choose my new outfit," I whispered in his ear. I already had some ideas. I quickly mind-presented them to Phill, who just as quickly nodded or dismissed an idea. This mind-reading of him was really handy, I thought. Most of my imagined outfits got the head-shake, though. "There are some possibilities where we can work on, Jame," he informed me with a grin. Phill picked up a good corset for me immediately, but I just went to one of the shop's full-size mirrors and looked at my current image. Telling Phill to touch me, I wanted to make a few adaptations. I decreased the size of my enormous bal... - testes by at least a cup size again. I had done it earlier in the bathroom, too, but I got tired of lugging them around as they were. Then I tried to make them less jiggly. Wow! The small nipples on the perky testes suddenly became stiff. I left my testes alone - I'd better, if I didn't want to jizz all over the merchandise in excitement! Glancing at the corsets on display, I knew how I needed to change my waist - it shrunk inwards at the command of my thoughts. I redistributed my mass towards the hips, making them fuller and rounder. Turning slowly to get a full view of my body, I found that my butt was still lacking definition. I padded it out a bit. Wow. I caressed my cheeks, they were unbe-fucking-lievably sensitive, nearly as much as my b... testes. I carefully added one pound after the other into the globes that were my ass. They expanded symmetrically, until I was satisfied. Now they bulged even more than the orbs in front of me. I thought how it would feel if someone else would run their hand about my now heart-shaped ass. Phill didn't need further invitation and caressed me. An electrical shock ran through my spine when he did it. It was as if my body was buzzing, his fingertips moving in slightly varying circles. I let out a "hmmmmmmm." Still, my ass was giving way to his fingers too easily. It was as if I had balloons on my back, filled with gelatin or something. It seemed as if all I added was fat. With Phill's fingers still running there, I decided to lend my buttocks more definition. I contracted my butt muscles. In the mirror, I could see my jiggling butt become firm and perky. When it became rock-hard, I knew I had overdone it. I relaxed a bit, and it became a bit soft again. Finally, I was satisfied. My ass was now defined, perky, and at least twice the size than it had before. It complemented my full, luscious hips and was the perfect counterweight for my testes. In comparison to this nice piece of muscular ass, my testes looked positively cute, even petite. I also had changed my legs now. The dense stubble of leg-hair disappeared; instead, I made them oily and just a bit muscular. Hah! I wasn't exactly the athletic type now, what with my large swinging behind, but I wasn't a weakling either. Now to my upper body. I gave my arms a little bit of brawn, but nothing that would be too obvious. I would want to attract women, not repel them with a bodybuilder figure. I glanced at my figure in the mirror. Wow, I did look more amazing than I aimed for. But there was no way I would back-uglify myself now. Still - I wouldn't change anything about my co- I winced, remembering Phill's words - my love maker. It was more than a decent size. Letting it shrink was out of the question, even if only to become my normal size. What man would deliberately shrink his penis? Anyhow, growing it further seemed weird, too. Jen-Lo's wish made it pretty long, I knew... "26 centimeters," whispered Phill into my ear, knowing what I didn't know: My size. King-size, really. I was becoming fond of his mind- reading ability. And okay, despite the reduction: my testes were still freaking huge in my eyes. In old bra terms, they were a C-cup for sure. But making them even smaller would ruin my looks. "In my opinion, I... Jame, you look like a young god." I blushed and shrugged at this comment. Phill was still holding me. I hadn't changed my face and makeup in all this time. Now I looked back at my head. The first thing was a no-brainer: My hair became longer and grew from shoulder-length down. When the black lush curls tingled up my ass, I stopped. Then I also lengthened my eyelashes. One thing bothered me, however. I didn't like my nose very much. It looked almost fat in my slim face. I decreased it slightly, but then I found I couldn't change it anymore. "No, Jamey," I heard Phill's voice. He had let go of me, now standing a few steps away. "I won't let you pull a Michael Screws." "Screws?" "Yeah, you know, the pop-diva." "Huh?" "Oh, okay. Maybe he didn't exist in your reality? Anyway, he was a famous pop star, black origins. He was never content with how he looked, and he ended up pale white, his testes silicon-stuffed like balloons. And the worst thing was... oh, you know him. Yeah, exactly the image you just thought of. Those tiny nostrils. Don't start that way, Jame. You're centerfold material. I never saw such an exotic beauty like you. Don't go mainstream." I still thought about the name that Phill used. "What?" He asked, reading my mind. "About Michael Screws-Rowe? Tch, what kind of name is 'Jackson', anyway?" That reminded me how Phill called me by a wrong name when he introduced me to the shopkeeper. Of course, he read my thoughts and answered my question even before I opened my mouth. "Jame, you're not this Jamey Stan you keep thinking about. Your name is Jamey Ngiwim. You..." "Now wait a moment..." I interrupted. Stop answering my thoughts, I thought. It's a bit annoying. Okay, Phill didn't speak, for once. That annoyed me too for some reason, but it allowed me to finish my once again whirlwind thoughts. "I never heard that name, Ngiwim," I said. "Sure. Jame, we inherit our names from our mothers and grandmothers. At least, traditionally, there has been a lot of fuss about it recently, from men who want to keep their boidenname." "My mother's maiden name - old reality, okay? - was Masters," I said slowly. "Not Ngiwim." "And she got THAT name how? From HER father or HER mother?" "Huh," I replied. That was stunning news. Though, it made sense. Phill embraced me and we hugged for a while. I was surprised how good that felt. I was not attracted to his body, so I wasn't really gay. But just being held by someone felt good and gave me confidence. I could face this new world, I realized. I just needed my good friend Phill to hold me sometimes. Or other friends. My love-maker auto-lubricated a bit when I thought of Jen-Lo holding me. I quickly dismissed this thought, but I realized I would need her, too. That made me consider my outfit again. I needed to look good for her! That was her wish for me to like the changes, I knew. But I couldn't help it. I loved Jen-Lo. Phill was my best friend. And I enjoyed dressing up as much as Steve did. How could I not like these wishes? All they had done to me were good, healthy things. I was still wearing the metal ring around my now diminished waist, the ruff fluttering around it. I picked up the corset that Phill suggested before my latest body changes. Phill just shook his head. "Don't bother," he said and led me down the aisle. He picked up something else. At least the stays didn't even look like bones. They were thin carbo-whatevers. When I wrapped the corset around my waist, he corrected the position of the laces and then pulled them tight. The hard material pressed against me. Okay, so I couldn't breath