"I'd offer to help but I feel like that might not actually be helpful."

Tintin manages to get his trousers back up. "I don't see why. It's not your fault that I - well, I suppose you caused me to be in the state to... do that... but I did request it of my own uncoerced will." He inhaled deeply, lets it out. "Sorry, by the way. I can't imagine you had any desire to see that."

"I mean I'm not complaining about it or anything."

"Which is very good of you."

Tintin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "...we didn't reach any sort of real conclusion there, did we. Vis-a-vis whether it would work to make me yours by magic."

"We kind of didn't, no."

He breathes in deeply, then breathes out.

"Alright!" he says cheerfully. "Once more, into the breach."

"—you sure?"

"Yes! There's still truth to be uncovered, isn't there? My dear friend Professor Tournesol would never forgive me if I abandoned the cause of science after a bit of shock."

"Guess that's fair," he says, and his eyes flash gold, and the mind control is back. Conveniently, in the intervening few minutes, he has also found somewhere to park the car.

Tintin shivers.

"Would you like me to get out of the car now, sir," he asks, fidgeting. The wet spot on the front of his trousers widens slightly when he says sir.

"Yeah." With another flash of eyeglow, the passenger door helpfully opens itself a crack.

He gets out of the car.

Suddenly, his trousers are once again stained with blood, and more starts welling up. He makes a face.

"Oh, ce n'est pas du tout bon. Um, I'm not - yours - anymore, either, I suppose that would follow."

He hesitates, then ducks back into the car. "Still not yours," he notes. "It's such an odd feeling. The healing, and the - switching between modes. I like the way I am better, obviously, but he likes his way - I'm a bit disturbed by him, to be frank."

As soon as Tintin is back in the car, Sean's eyes flash gold and the bleeding stops again.

"Yeah, honestly the other you is kind of concerning," he says. "In—the way where, like—that's a hell of a responsibility all of a sudden, you know? ...kinda hot, though. Sorry, I should maybe not have said that."

Tintin looks confused. "...I'm not a woman," he says after a moment. "Neither is he."

Sean blinks in mild bafflement. "I... noticed that? Like—you're—that's not—yes??"

"Oh. Then why is it - attractive? I thought - well, you're attractive, but I thought that was... hysterical attraction, is what I've called it in my head. The attraction to other men. Because of..." He gestures at his damp crotch. "Biology."

"I like girls more but I definitely like both. I would be just as into you if you had a dick." Thoughtful pause. "...do you want one?"

That's a lot of information to take in at once!

Tintin opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

"...sort of?" he says eventually. "I don't - I like my, um, my pussy. But I would like a prick." He laughs weakly. "I don't suppose I could get both."

"I don't see why not!"

"Well, I suppose I don't, either!"

A golden flash of eyeglow, and some proportions abruptly shift.

He immediately reaches down and touches the lump in his trousers wonderingly. Then he goes red.

"Um. You don't - mind, do you? If I-" He gestures vaguely.

"I so do not mind."

Tintin hesitates a moment longer before pushing his trousers down around his knees. 

His new prick is lovely. It looks perfectly natural, stemming from where his clit was; it's milky-pale, and uncut, and surprisingly large for such a skinny little man.

As he stares in delight, it thickens further and begins to stand. The foreskin rolls back, revealing a shiny red tip welling with clear fluid.

"Ma bite," Tintin says with a grin. He turns to Sean. "I could kiss you, my friend."

"Aw," he says delightedly. "You're so happy!!"