It took Fiona all of ten seconds to get over her shock of seeing her boyfriend transformed into the body of the comic book demon, Raven, and recall her fury at him for having destroyed her treasured copy of Ghost in the Shell with the mysterious not-a-VCR he had found in the attic. Seeing Jonah with bulging breasts squeezed into the shiny leotard was satisfying but not as satisfying as it would be if she could break the cool composed demeanour he seemed to have adopted from Raven along with her body. If he had somehow become a human mirror, both inside and out, of whatever character was on their television, there were surely more vulnerable avatars she could use to avenge her destroyed anime.
Snatching up the Webflix remote, she switched over to a pro-wrestling show. As before, Jonah instantly transformed into the person on the screen – this time it was a fearsome looking female grappler with tattoos and wrestling gear that resembled a bondage outfit. Clearly, the amazon's power and rage also rippled through Jonah and he instantly demanded the remote in an exaggerated aggressive manner as if it were a title belt. Seeing the towering figure striding across the room towards her, Fiona fumbled to select another show. A diminutive drag queen in a shimmering gown tripped over a ridiculous pair of eight-inch pumps at her feet.
“Oh, Darling!” The figure exclaimed dramatically. “Why don't you give me that thing before someone breaks a nail...in someone else's throat.” Jonah blinked and felt heavy fake lashes swish down to his cheeks. He didn't know why he just said that – he just did. It wasn't his voice or even his words. He felt the emotion...the anger...the fear, but when he released it, that's how it came out through the drag queen's catty filter. Just as with the woman wrestler body – he knew what he wanted...the remote, but the body had its own 'way'...its own language and he was nearly helpless to control it.
Fiona used his fall as a opportunity to choose another show. This time it was an old sitcom Jonah recognised from a few years back – 'Playing House'. The bimbo housewife character was on the screen, the one they killed off after the first season with a giant wedding cake – Claudette – and so, that was who Jonah found himself as now. He was encased in her signature style, a tight leathery pair of high-cut leggings and fuck-me heels. He had drooled over her countless times in those outfits, and now he was her. Whimsical sexual thoughts filled his mind along with a fugue that could only come from midday red wine. He breathed deeply and heaving breasts rose and fell on his chest. Even Fiona was spellbound by them and for a moment they just stared at each other. He pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter to get his weight off the uncomfortable heels with a squeak of leather on polished wood. On the television, his counterpart was ditzily preparing dinner whilst spilling out of her top to the pleasure of the studio audience. The blonde on screen took another slug of wine and the haze in Jonah's head grew. 'I am a slave to that thing', he realised. 'I need to get away from it before Fiona goes too far!' Sliding back down onto the pumps, he balanced himself, took one final look at his girlfriend, and broke for the front door...
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