This choice: Back with Freddie and Imogen. • Go Back...Chapter #7Back with Freddie and Imogen. by: Unknown The electronic bell tinkled quietly as the two siblings hurried their way inside the store. Freddie as the older and bolder sibling lead the way into the store, his shoulders bobbing from side to side and his chin pointed confidently into the air. One of his hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his cargo bottoms, idly tapping out a beat onto his thigh, whilst the other was cocked into a gun shape, hanging by his side like he was an old Western gunslinger.
“Hey Imogen,” he chuckled. “Watch and weep.”
Freddie raised his finger-gun and waved it round the store, searching for a target.
“PEW!”
In aisle two a mother shopping with her family suddenly yelped as her bountiful bosom lost its definition and shrunk on her front, swallowing itself back into the folds of her torso. Soon after her hair was next to go, her pinned up bun inverting and shooting backwards until she had a receding hairline comparable to that of a man many years past his prime. Next to go was her middle-aged plumbing. Freddie laughed as he watched her wince as her vaginal lips folded in on themselves before bursting outwards majestically into a raging phalllus, long, hard and practically fighting to escape the confines of her form fitting leggings.
Next came the patriarch of the family, a muscular bloke with a bald head, Viking beard, a wide array of tattoos and a suffocating aura of masculinity. Well, formerly. Now the aura had dissipated as the man reached up frantically and clutched onto the lemony scented brunette hair that’d sprouted onto his scalp. He was swearing and cursing in his confusion, so much so that he wasn’t even aware of the fact that his beard was starting to retreat back into his chin as quickly as his wife’s hair had grown in. In fact it wasn’t just his beard that was leaving; all his body hair, from his chest, to his arms, down to his legs and even his pubes, were gone, leaving him looking a tad effeminate even with his swole physique. He did however notice when he suddenly felt a loss of weight coming from his crotch. He was scared to look so didn’t, praying for the first time in his life that his suspicions were wrong.
Their son, a gangly lad whose height even surpassed that of his father’s, was ambushed by Freddie’s swapping finger next. His nervous exterior suggested that he was a bit of a mother’s boy so Freddie decided to cement that idea. The boy didn’t scream but curled his face in horror as a pair of gelatinous DD’s (surgically sized up by his self concious mother) pushed out under his plaid shirt, distending the fabric and wobbling about unrestricted. The boy immediately went to cup them (what red-blooded man wouldn’t?) but suddenly found himself uninterested by the mammaries on his chest, as if he had a sense of familiarity that made him indifferent to them. He didn’t know it but Freddie had swapped over the boy’s angsty teenage boy horniness onto his prepubescent sister, making him essentially permanently flaccid for the next few years at least. His sensuality wouldn’t be the last thing he’d swap with his sister, no, now came time to exchange the two’s heights. Freddie chuckled at the boy who was now essentially up to dwarfish proportions, losing two whole feet in the swap. To make it even funnier Freddie transferred the boy’s fathers body hair onto him, making him look like a real life Leprechaun minus the silly boots and offensive stereotypes.
The final family member in his sights, the sweet innocent daughter, was probably the one most corrupted by Freddie’s indiscriminatory power. There was an especially malevolent grin on the fifteen-year-old’s face as he observed the girl shoot up, getting taller in an instant and topping out at 6’2” or so. She’d been quite a tubby little thing before but ‘growing’ into her height had allowed her to slim down considerably, gaining definition all across her body and ending up looking like somewhat of a supermodel. The girl had no time to gape at herself as she felt a stirring in her undersized underwear. She pulled outwards the front of the ripped remains of her jeans and looked at the middle-aged snatch now nestled inside. Though her mother had borne two kids already, she was still very sexually active (and pretty tight where it counted as well) so the new sensations coursing through her body ushered in a waterfall in her pants. Freddie saw her gear up for a scream then suddenly relax as he introduced a new trait, one that sent a satisfied grin to both their faces. The sized-up girl, now with the raging sexuality of a repressed teen male but without the inherent shame that came with those feelings, reached down into her groin and started fingering herself, illiciting shocked expressions from both her family and the customers surrounding.
“You can’t do that here Dad!” the son exclaimed, clamping his hands over his mouth as what he said dawned over him. “I mean... you’re my... my s... oh f*ck it, sh*t why can’t I call you my sist...Dad!”
Freddie chuckled; in the midst of all the interconnected exchanges he’d decided to, what’s the best way to desdcribe this, oh yes, ‘spice up’ the family dynamics slightly. A tiny little role swap and all gathered members of the family—possibly even extended members of family, I don’t know, it would need to be further investigated—now believed that the little girl and junior sibling was really now the head of the family. The father had been relegated to ‘daughter’ status, believing his son was now his ‘brother’ and his wife was now his ‘mother’ all whilst being aware that it was all wrong.
“Calm down, Greg!” his mother said with hushed passive aggressiveness. Though she herself was this close to passing out right there and then from the shock she was still acutely aware of the scene they were causing.
Greg seemed embarrassed by his outburst now and hung his head low. His father meanwhile was raging.
“That kid of yours might let it go, Mum... Kat, but I can’t! Da... Mary’s not my f*cking father! I’m the father!”
Soon a Wilko employee, ‘Claire’ he read the name tag as, sprinted over, trying to calm all parties and sort it out. Her demeanour was nice and even though Freddie hadn’t thought to improve someone for anyone’s sake other than his since he’d been injected by the serum, he decided he might try at a later point for her. For now he was just content to watch the fallout.
“Please excuse my little tykes,” Mary said, a mature softness laced into her words. She wrapped her slender arms around her ‘son’ and ‘daughter’, squeezing them tight half-menacingly. “They’ve just got so much pent up energy that they can’t control themselves! Sorry for the disturbance, me and my beautiful wife,” she said as she pulled her balding ‘partner’ closer and kissed her chrome dome, “will escort ourselves out and sort this out in private.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s not ideal but all of us at Wilkos would appreciate that.”
“No worries, anything for a gorgeous girl like you.” Claire blushed and the rest of the family looked at Mary with blatant surprise. Huh, Freddie thought, she must’ve taken her brother’s sexuality as well. Wonder how that’ll affect family life now. Freddie watched on in silence as they all walked out in unison, the mother covering her baldness shamefully, the brother stroking his new beard curiously, the father ruing the loss of his precious appendage, and the daughter... well she was strutting around confidently with not a care in the world. As they approached the exit Freddie watched as Kat stopped for a second or two to marvel at the tutus and dungarees in the little girls aisle. She soon snapped out of it, wondering why she’d been so entranced, unknowingly confirming that the clothing swap (or at least the mental compulsion to get specific clothes) between her and Mary has been successful.
It’d be hilarious to follow them trying to sort this all out but Freddie suddenly realised his sister was nowhere to be seen. His head swivelled around. “Oh, there you are,” he exhaled.
“Yup,” she said nonchalantly, halfway through a spoonful of ice cream. Something about her voice sounded strange.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Dunno, just walking around. Picked up some ice cream.”
“I can see that. Where’d you get it from? Mum didn’t give us any money.”
“I improvised.”
“Did you steal it?”
“...Kinda?”
“What does that mean?” Freddie took a double take of her clothes. “And where’d you get that uniform from?!”
“...Kinda stole it as well.”
Freddie slapped his forehead. “So you didn’t see any of what I just did, did you?”
Imogen shook her head. “Nope. Was it good?”
“Yes! But seeing as how you didn’t see any of it, you wouldn’t know!”
“Chill, Frederick.” Freddie’s blood boiled— she knew he hated it when someone used his full name. “Don’t you wanna know what I got up to?”
“No, not really,” he sulked.
“C’mon, you crybaby. Check the name tag.” Imogen angled it so he could see the name:
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