Ricky woke up early, Gemma still asleep in the bed at his side. He thought about turning over and going back to sleep, but then remembered his girlfriend's promise -- he'd find out what she'd gotten from the genie when he woke up.
He lay in bed for a minute, gingerly running his hands over his body. No breasts, his cock and balls accounted for inside his boxer shorts, and everything else felt pretty much the same. So what had happened? He got up on one elbow and examined Gemma as closely as he could. Nope, she seemed pretty much the same.
He swung his legs over to the side, sat up, and then saw that, standing next to the wall a couple of feet from the bed was an antique full-length mirror made of dark wood. It definitely hadn't been there last night. He frowned -- if Gemma had merely wanted a mirror, she didn't have to wish for one from a genie, so there must be something else to it. He got up to examine it more closely.
Ricky stood in front of the mirror and looked at his own reflection, and as he did, he suddenly felt as if he could no longer move.
The mirror began to shrink -- no, Ricky realized, he was getting taller, and his muscles were filling out impressively. He now had actual definition to his arms and legs, and a 6-pack stomach.
He was stunned, though, when his skin suddenly darkened to a chocolate brown. The hair on his head retracted into his scalp, leaving him bald. His facial features changed, with his nose becoming wider, lips becoming larger, irises changing from blue to brown.
His boxer shorts had become a pair of baggy silk pajama bottoms, and he couldn't resist pulling the front out a bit and looking down. What he saw was more the size of a sausage than the equipment he'd gotten used to.
He realized, since he'd just done that, that he was able to move again. He took a step back to get the big picture. He had changed ethnicity, obviously, and was now at least 7 feet tall and solidly built. Anyone looking at him, he figured, would think he was a pro basketball player.
Behind him, he heard Gemma ask, "What do you think?" He whirled around and saw that there was an identical mirror next to the wall on the other side of the bed. The woman standing in front of it definitely didn't look like Gemma -- she was Asian, voluptuous but slightly on the "plump" side, with a pretty face and waist-length jet-black hair. She wore a red silk teddy that was revealing a canyon of cleavage -- quite different from the flannel nightgown that Gemma had worn to bed.
"I think I got the better end of the deal," said the woman, looking over the stud across the room, then slowly sauntering toward him.
"Gemma?" asked Ricky. "Is this what you wished for?" His voice was noticeably deeper.
"In a way," she said, as she stood in front of him and put her hands on his arms, then got as close to him as possible, grinding into his stiffening member. She stood on her tiptoes to try to whisper into his ear, but realized it was a lost cause, and instead just purred, "You can stare at these tits all you want."
Jon had her teddy off her in a nanosecond, and his pajama bottoms off himself in another nanosecond.
Several hours later, exhausted, the two of them disengaged at last and just lay in bed, face-up, still naked.
"It's a good thing today is Saturday," Ricky said in his still-unfamiliar deep voice once he finally managed to catch his breath. He moved his head a bit so he could see the melon-sized, brown-nippled breasts on the transformed Gemma, their size contracting and expanding ever so slightly as she breathed in and out. He finally asked, "Okay, so was there more to the spell than us both looking like completely different people?"