Royal Mistake: More Great Decisions

“Turn everything back. _Now._” Linda crossed her arms in some awkward attempt to cover her new, massive breasts. She hardly reacted to their changed surroundings; how their foyer was replaced by a _freaking castle hall,_ with servants and attendants darting about, all eying the two with reverence. “Yes. Right. Sorry.” Jon’s grip on the stone tightened. “I wish… _you’d give me more time to undo this._” A bright light and a sharp gasp. Linda stared at Jon incredulously, as her anger muffled under a sudden, unbidden calm. “Jon… What did you do?” “Mom, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “But we can’t rush this, okay? The stone’s tricky, and I don’t want to make this worse than I—” In a sharp, controlled movement, Linda danced forward and grabbed the stone. “You already did. I wish Jon wouldn't use this without my say so.” Another flash of light. Jon’s eyes widened. “Mom!” Linda held up a hand. “Kiddo. You’ve made two wishes so far, and they were both terrible”—she spoke in her _you-know-I’m-right_ voice, the kind that left Jon feeling less like an (admittedly involuntarily) princess and more like a self-conscious middle schooler—“you have your extra time. You don’t have my trust. Understood?” “Yes.” “Yes?” “Yes ma’am.” “Good.” Linda allowed herself to relax, before steadying her gaze on a figure walking over. “I wish I had somewhere to put this—” And the stone flew from her hand and down her massive cleavage. Linda swore, failed to dig it out, and gave up as the figure closed in. “Your majesty.” A curtsying woman with doll-like features, dressed as some sort of over-dignified Mary Poppins. She was attractive, but shaped like a normal person—bringing all the more attention to how _obnoxiously_ Linda and Jon turned out. She smiled warmly. “I’ve drafted an itinerary for the day, as requested!” “An… Itinerary,” Linda said, dumbly. That meant responsibilities. Good god, was Linda truly responsible for an entire kingdom now? “Oh yes!” The Mary Poppins beamed. “There’s some time for revision, aside from the meeting scheduled this morning. The chancellor himself requested that you overlook several proposed laws.” Linda glanced at Jon. His pretty features carried the same bewilderment hers did. Linda turned back. “A-alright.” The young woman’s smile faltered, if only slightly. “Is everything alright, your majesty? You seem a tad… Distracted this morning.” _Un-queenlike_, she probably meant. _You’re liable for a goddamn kingdom, Linda. Laws. Lives. People. And you have no idea what you’re doing._ A single wish wouldn’t undo this. Jon ensured Linda couldn't even try. That left her with only one viable option: damage control. Linda winced, already regretting the choice she was about to make. …Jon would regret this too, she decided. Later. Quickly and inaudibly, Linda whispered. “I wish to be a proper queen, without losing my sense of self.” A jolt between her two giant breasts. The effect was _instant._ First, the overdone heels were now very, very easy to move in. Effortless, even. Second, Linda was standing like she was okay with this body—chest thrust out proudly, arms ignoring the impulse to cover herself, an exaggerated sway to her hips. And third, the voice. Linda Gibson wanted to apologize. A dramatic contralto came out instead; deep, velvety, _slow._ “I am well, child.” Both the young woman and Jon jumped to attention. The young woman curtsied. “Of course, Your Majesty. M-my humblest apologies.” “You spoke of the chancellor,” Linda continued, the words pouring out so smoothly she could hardly believe it. “When is our conference scheduled? “Within the hour, Your Majesty.” _Then we leave immediately,_ Linda thought, despite herself. _If it’s the chancellor, we’ll need time to prepare, to look over the documents…_ She shook away the thoughts and leaned towards Jon. “Work on that wish, kiddo. I’ll find you later.” Jon began to protest. The unbidden thoughts berated Linda for speaking casually. She ignored both and sauntered after the assistant. …Leaving Jon in the center of the palace hall, staring at his mom as if she’d gone crazy. The way she suddenly jerked in place, going from herself to… Well, the stereotypical queen she looked like. Either she’d made a wish, or Jon’s own wish had more effects than he expected. Neither was a good option. And worse, she left him alone, as _this._ Jon adjusted his glasses and looked down. Instead of his usual, gangly self, he found an instagram model’s body, with breasts large enough to hide his feet and hair long enough to cause problems. Everything else was either too light or too heavy, and his skin was so sensitive that each and every sensation became overwhelming, Jon felt small, fragile, and wrong. It took everything he had not to fall over. Also, all the young knights and butlers dashing about were _staring_ at him. Several ran into each other. “Alright Jon,” he said, blushing at the melody of his own, honeyed voice. “We’ll find the royal library, hide in a corner, and think this through. Maybe come up with an apology for mom, if we have time.” Jon picked a direction, began to walk, and was immediately interrupted by a sharply dressed older woman. “Princess Jeanne! There you are!” She grabbed him by the arm before he could react. “You’re late.” Jon tried to pull his arm away. He failed. “Sorry, busy, can we—” “Of course you’re busy! You've got waltzing lessons!” She gave a sharp glare. “And I will not accept excuses. Come.”