<div class="floatleft"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5d/1486501462997.jpg)<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Michael</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 13pt;">● Wearing a pink apron.<br/>● Sprouting perky C-cup breasts.<br/>● Freaking out.</span></span></div></div></div></div></td><td></td></tr></tbody></table></div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 2pt;"><br/></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Circe comes from behind to caress my breasts and I gasp and swat her hands away, blushing a little.  "Hey!"  She treats it as no big deal, discussing the pizza place reservation, and suggesting I wear a baggy sweatshirt? and a bra? and say those are fake?  How can she think of food at a time like this?  "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I burst out.  "I've got freaking tits for Chrissake!  This is not normal!  No way I am going anywhere like this, especially not where people know me.  I am not some freak show, and I'm going to be the centre of attention for people to snicker at, even if they think it's fake!"<br/><br/>At least Chloe seems to treat it more seriously, which kind of makes sense, she always was the most sensible of the three of us.  "What do you mean, 'And that is that'?" I gripe.  "I don't need the changes to stop, I need them to be undone!  I can't go through life as a guy with tits."  I notice that I am hyperventilating and try to calm myself down, with only partial success.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, Chloe leaves, then comes back with a pair of large sweatshirts.  Large for her small frame that is, but on me they would likely be tight fitting.  Still, better than the apron, which brings me to...  "Thanks, but I need something for the bottom as well," I point down at the apron.  "That spell nuked all of my clothes.  Do you have a spare pair of loose sweatpants?"  I'll have to do without underwear for now but that's the least of my problems.  I look at the bra suspiciously, not sure what to make of it.  "Uh, let's try to figure out how to get rid of them.  Can you check the book?  There must be something there to fix it, right?"  I don't trust it, but it's probably my best option.</span><br/>