You chuckle at some of Gene's ideas, especially using the light on people heading into one restroom to see if they turn around and head to the other one and investigating if it works on inanimate objects. Sitting near Gene on a bench, you cross your legs tightly as he gives a suspicious, nervous glance at your crotch for the nth time. God, it's like the fact you're a boy with a pussy is a foreign concept to him. Earlier in the year, you both got a little too drunk and he went down on you, out of curiosity and experimentation. Despite the fact you mutually agreed to remain friends and not mention it, there is no way he could've forgotten that.
You wonder briefly if maybe his mind might've been altered by wielding the light but you don't feel any different with it in your hands. Lining up the beam, you question Gene as you continue, "What do you see over there?"
He notices the scruffy teen boy in a messy, Metallica tee and snug black jeans who looks like he's trying for the world's longest sulk as his punk girlfriend shops at Hot Topic for merch. Gene readily describes, "A wannabe edgelord." You listen to him repeat, "A goth guy...a guy...a sulking dude...a girl...a goth girl." Meanwhile, you turned on the beam and aimed it over the scruffy teen.
He doesn't notice any change and readily recites "goth girl" without questioning or skipping a beat. For you, Metallica remains but shifted into a black tank top with a set of bra straps angling beside the thin straps of the top. Her skin is even paler as a girl but silken smooth. Whereas the boy would've loomed over six feet if he wasn't slouching, the goth chick barely seems to stretch five feet in her glossy obsidian, heeled boots. Thick leggings flow into a set of belt-covered, leather short-shorts. While her hair isn't much longer than his, the difference is between a greasy, crow-like dangle and a pretty, feathery swoop that dips over her right eye and stops short of her neck. Her dense, Egyptian style eyeliner is accented by a large Ankh on a silver necklace which rests on her DD cup bust, drawing attention to the sharp line of her cleavage.
While your pussy has appreciated the pretty girls you've made, this is the first one to get you actually wet. You kinda have a thing for short haired chicks and the change between a grungy guy to a cute girl is the best one you've done so far with the light. Gene clears his throat and stumbles over ideas for what changes might've happened. There's something amusing about him trying to suss it out like a mind puzzle. His best effort is "swimmer" before you have to tell him.
"Guess I'm not missing much then. Dang, she looks..." As Gene speaks, he notices the punk girlfriend has returned from shopping. The girlfriend gives the new goth chick a lingering, warm kiss before excitedly showing off her purchases to her smiling partner. Gene glances at his feet and finishes, "She looks happy. Whatever happened to her. Hopefully."
You've noticed this sense of melacholy trailing after Gene, like a sense of guilt despite the fact you have been responsible for almost all the transformations and you stopped him before he altered your pussy. Almost all...you glance at the server on the mall restaurant terrance. He doesn't seem weird to you but Gene compared it to a circus act where a performer is one side woman and one side man. Your heart beats swiftly as you make up your mind to ask, holding up the light, "Buddy? Is there something you want to do with this?"
For emphasis, you wiggle your head in the direction of the restaurant. He glances quickly between the flashlight and you, making sure this is what you want to do. Gene is a responsible guy and sometimes stuff weighs on him. But you warn him, "Not on me."
He shakes his head so much that you're worried it might fall off. He invites you to hold the flashlight at the same time but, with everything you've read in the instructions about the user and control, you don't want to risk altering both your memories or something else crazy. One user at a time. You urge him, "Just do what you need to do."
So, you watch him shine the pink light on a waitress across the way. You don't understand it but he heaves a long sigh of relief. "You good now, buddy?"
As an answer, your friend turns the flashlight around on herself. You watch in stunned silence as your college friend, Sera, covers herself in the pink glow of the beam. Her dirty-blond hair in a silken fringe around her head looks momentarily darker under the pink-tinted glow. Her soft face quivers with surprise as she switches off the light and craddles it in her lap.
"What the heck!" You bristle with fear about what Sera has done. Fortunately, she is left somehow unaltered by the light. Her prominent, you sometimes joke "pokey", boobs haven't gotten bigger than their previous D cup fullness. Her peach, short-sleeved athletic top with a rounded, girl-next-door-innocent view of her neck is still neatly tucked into her hip-hugging, high-riding gray-blue jeans. Her oldest, most comfortable sandals dangle off her dainty, feet with peach-toned nails.
The fear doesn't abate as Sera gropes herself with a bright, wide-eyed blush. Her hands fondle her bust and she gives a sudden whimper. Snatching the light back, you interrogate her, "What's that about?"
Returning to your previous concern about unknown mental affects to using the light, her look at you is not the expression you expect from the girl who you want to be more than friends with. Sure, you two got drunk one night and scissored each other for hours, but that was private compared to shining a magic light on oneself then foddling your tits in the middle of a mall!
Swallowing hard, then clearing her throat, Sera says to you, stammering like she's never used her soft, high voice before, "I'm a girl..."
Well, duh. Of course she is, and always has been. You soften your thought with calm and explain this to her. Swiftly, she shakes her head and makes wild claims that she was a boy a minute ago and her name was Gene. While you understand that the light can change sex, there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that Sera has been a woman as long as you've known her. Not even a single stray memory says anything different.
Suddenly, Sera bolts from the seat, staggers on her feet with the sway of her hips, and hustles away. You chase after her, confused as to what you said and did wrong.