“I wish all the girls at this party were hotties like the girl I just changed,” you think.
For the next few seconds, you don’t quite know where to look, as the girls -- other than the one talking to Jason -- all transform simultaneously. Some lose weight, some gain weight, some have weight redistributed. The hair on their heads becomes thicker and more lush, restyling itself, even changing color in a few cases. Cheekbones become more obvious, noses shrink, lips plump, chins round out, and everyone gains a coat of makeup that appears professionally applied. Clothing shrinks and alters into a variety of skimpy outfits with a touch of glamour, from sequined minidresses to ruffled microskirts. Shoes all change into high-heeled varieties. Jewelry pops into existence -- necklaces, bracelets, rings, hoops and chandelier earrings, even a few navel and nose piercings.
You realize the transformations are over, and you can’t help but stare. The girls are still standing where they were before they changed, talking to whoever they were before, but suddenly it’s almost like you’re in the Playboy mansion with nothing but Playmates.
A redhead with stunning green eyes and unbelievably long legs, and an African-American with a face like Beyoncé and breasts like cantaloupes, both happen to look over at you right as you were staring at them. You quickly look away, embarrassed, and act like you have somewhere to be.
The only place you can think you’d have to be is the bathroom. You head in that direction, glancing at the girls as you pass them, it almost seeming like each one is more beautiful than the last.
No one’s waiting for the facilities, so you go right in and shut the door. You don’t actually have to go, though, so you just stand there, leaning against the sink. You take the rock out of your pocket, but it isn’t glowing -- okay, so it obviously needs to recharge for a while after changing a few dozen girls.
You sigh and think about what to wish for once the rock is glowing again. There’s a basket of magazines on the floor; you bend over and start idly flipping through a Newsweek from a couple of months ago.
You realize that maybe you shouldn’t have been embarrassed when the two girls were looking at you staring at them. Maybe you should have just talked to them, and maybe you could have hit it off with one or both of them -- of course, you realize, that’s easier said than done. But with the rock, you could help things along.
And you notice that it’s glowing again.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Occupied!” you quickly yell, and then, “Just a minute!”
You think fast, and whisper as you hold the rock, “I wish...
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