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Jake drew Gail into conversation again. He was really starting to like this shy but determined girl. The meal was excellent and as Gail warmed to him, the conversation was even better. All too soon, it was time for Jake to disappear a fifty in Walter’s nimble fingers.It was only nine o’clock so Gail drove Jake to her house to meet her folks. She pulled up to a well-maintained house in a quiet residential neighborhood and led him inside. Gail’s parents and twelve-year-old brother were watching television. Mrs. Martin was as quiet and shy as Gail. Her father was a different story. Bob Martin was a plumber, as the sign on the side of the van in the driveway advertised. He was about 5’9” but his demeanor made him appear taller. He had muscular arms and a firm handshake. He wore a wife beater tee-shirt that showed his tattoo of paratrooper wings on his bicep. Jake asked him which division. Bob replied he had jumped into Normandy with the 82nd.Over the women’s protests, Bob dragged Jake to. I bit my lips, so I didn't squeal with joy when Irealized they had to be bigger than Renee's.Trembled with pleasure and delight, I looked directly into the mirror,took a deep breath, and then released my breasts.I ignored my grinning white face, and looked with pride at the dark brownbreasts that jutted forth from my white torso. I undid my belt and letmy pants and undies fall to the floor. My phallus, as Caucasian as ever,stood proudly erect between my pale, hairy legs.I reached down and touched it.It was still there, and it still felt good to touch it. My cock was asmuch a part of my body as my boobs.I was a freak."Larry, are you okay?" Renee asked, on the other side of the bathroomdoor."Yeah," I said.It was easier than saying "A goddess granted one of my wishes, and nowI'm a freak."I shook my head and thought about how both of us had held that damnfigurine."What did you wish for?" I asked."What?" What did you wish from N'Kumba?" I asked.Renee didn't say anything for a moment. .
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