Tony, the once 5'll" 150 pound track star now 900 pound jackass grunted furiously. Jeff was his own body again. Jack was his own body again. Eric was his own body again. Why not me! He let out a furious bray. What problem?! While he ambled over to Jeff kneeling beside the bed, Jeff typed away furiously at the keyboard.
"Hold on a sec" he said to Tony. He pointed the emitter at Tony and pressed "enter".
"What do you mean a problem?!" demanded Tony. "Why is the problem with me? Why- hey! I can talk!"
"Yeah, I took care of the odor and drooling problems too. She really went out of her way to fuck with you"
"Well turn me all the way back now, not just 1% back!" snapped Tony leaning over his much smaller friend.
"I can't"
"What!?!" Tony let out a deep throated growl to accompany his exclamation.
"She . . she erased you"
"What!?!"
"She erased the template information for you. I hid extra copies of it in 3 different directories and under different names but she found one and it looks like she used that info for a search term to find the others. I-"
"She erased me!?! What does that mean?" snarled Tony looking straight down at his friend.
"Well, it, basically it means I can't turn you back into you. You see, you need a template of original subject information to-"
"What?! No! That can't be!"
"I-I can't change you back to your real self"
"So I have to stay a jackass forever!?!" Tony was apoplectic. He shouted so loud with the power of his jackass lungs that Eric and Jack both looked about wondering if he was waking nearby residents. Jeff stood up and rubbed his friend's nose.
"No! That's not it at all. All I'm saying is that I can't turn you back into exactly the Tony that you were. I can turn you into anything. Anything"
"Well, I want to be my old self again. I want to be . . anything? Really?"
"Yeah, anything"
"Well I-I always wished I'd had a muscular ass like some of the sprinters. That's such an edge for a runner, to have narrow hips but a really deep, muscular ass. I . . anything?"
"Anything. In fact, there are a lot easier things to do then try and turn you into the closest replica of your former self that we can manage."
"How's that?"
"Well, you told me before that your family has almost no pictures of you"
"Yeah, they . . well, it's hard to explain but no, almost nothing of me or my little brother but tons of my sister"
"Well listen to this." said Jeff and he typed for a minute before continuing. "It says that . . quote, a precise subject template can be created without a living subject model if a large number of photos of sufficient quality to determine biometric dimensional relationships of the intended subject model are available and used with the TransDem web design interface, unquote."
"Which means exactly what?" asked Eric.
"It means that if we've got enough pictures of somebody with enough clarity to them that we can create a new base Tony through the company's site"
"So I can be anyone that we have enough pictures of?"
"Yeah, basically. I think that would include pictures on line. But we've gotta be smart about this. You can't change yourself into Michael Jordan or somebody famous who everyone will know and, well, a black guy would be a little bit of a stretch with your family"
Tony thought for a little while. "Well, if I can look however I want to look . ."
"You can" Jeff assured him.
"Then I want to look as good as possible. Open that up" he said to Jeff pointing his foot long muzzle at a fashion magazine next to Emma's bed. It was a copy of Arena Homme Plus. It was filled with pictures of male models and better still, it identified them and said which model agency each worked for. There followed 20 minutes of Jeff leafing through the magazine while his still equine friend looked over his shoulder and commented on the guys pictured. "No, looks like a wuss." "Pretty but too weak looking." "He's practically anorexic". "I don't understand why he's considered good looking in the first place." Finally, they decided to go online to the model agencies' web sites. They looked at Ford Models, Select Models UK and a couple other sites referenced in the Arena Homme Plus text. At the agency web sites, they looked through scores and scores of pictures of different models till finally Tony narrowed it down to two. Chris Kramer, a slender blond model of whom there were a huge number of pictures available on the net and Tyson Ballou, a brown haired model of similar physique and notoriety.
"You really want to become some super pretty boy?" asked Eric
"Hey, I spent 16 years with a nose twice as big as it should be, acne and no ass to speak of until I actually became an ass. So yeah, if I can be anything, I want to be as handsome as possible."
All three of his friends accepted that. Tony'd had some bad acne lately and his nose had been enough for two faces. He deserved a break the other way. "So which will it be, Tony? Blondie or brownie?" asked Jeff.
"Well, I always associated blond with stupid, so make me Tyson Ballou"
Jeff smiled up in agreement and started typing furiously. Over his shoulder, Tony saw a series of images of Tyson Ballou, 6'1+" tall, perhaps 165 pounds, slender and smooth chested with a short, military style haircut, large brown eyes and powerful cheekbones. Jeff downloaded them from all over the web, more than 50 of them. Tony felt a surge of excitement. He was beautiful. He wasn't sure about applying that word to a guy but that's what the guy in the photos was, strong and beautiful. And . . Tony caught his jackass breath. That-that'll be me. Oh my god. He sat back on his haunches in wonder. I'm not going to be ugly anymore. I'm-I'm going to be, to be . . beautiful. He looked down at his huge jackass belly and shook his head in wonder.
A few minutes later, Jeff was connected to the TransDem site. The company's system recognized his ID and password. Jeff navigated the site's menus. There was actually a ready made series of menus for this circumstance. He quickly went through it, checking "Subject's base information lost", then "Create new subject base profile" and "Create Profile using image data and user data inputs". He downloaded the fifty odd photographs of male model Tyson Ballou to TransDem and waited to see if the photos were sufficient to create a new Tony. He fully expected to be aiming the emitter at Tony and turning him into a perfect copy of this male model, Tyson Ballou, in just a second. But it took TransDem's computer a few minutes to process the photos. Finally, a message flashed on the screen. "USER DATA SUFFICIENT FOR CREATION OF A NEW SUBJECT BASE PROFILE"
"Ha!" shouted Tony and he reached over with one hoof and spun turtle Emma Chase as fast as he could. "Little bitch! I should drown you in a gallon of my fucking jackass piss or suffocate you with one of my football sized turds while I can still make 'em! How would you like that you little virago?" When it finally stopped spinning, the little turtle hissed at him. Tony crouched over it at slapped its head and started it spinning as fast as ever with a swat from his liter bottle sized penis. Jack and Eric doubled over laughing.
Jeff was busy because he was now confronted with the first of more than a hundred menu choices in the design of the new Tony. As an anatomically correct version of the Tyson Ballou revolved slowly on the left half of the screen, a series of option questions appeared on the right side. Some were simple multiple choice. The first asked Jeff to either confirm that Tony would be the same age as the model, who was in his early 20's, or another. Tony said to make him physically 15 years old. The next asked if Tony's height should be the same 6'1.5" as Tyson Ballou. Jeff looked to Tony. Tony nodded. Others indicated a spectrum of choices. For instance, a prompt read that Tyson Ballou's skin quality was in the 93rd percentile for young men and asked Jeff to click the percentile of quality of skin that Tony would have. "99th" said Tony immediately. He said 99th every time a percentile question was asked, be it regarding immune system strength, VO2 capacity, connective tissue flexibility, connective tissue strength. Tyson Ballou already rated high in most every category, but Tony wanted 99th percentile quality every time.
He changed the model's body in a couple significant ways. Despite Jeff's assurance that his new hips were already plenty narrow, Tony had Jeff click to narrow his pelvis and also widen his shoulders. He had Jeff add muscle to his shoulders and his new rear to be. When a question concerned one part of the body, the 3D image zoomed in on that area. Half the screen showed his new rear to be. Tight but not especially round. "Deeper" said Tony. Jeff clicked the mouse. Tony looked at the revised representation on the screen. "Deeper" he said. Jeff clicked again. "More muscular". Jeff clicked again. "More muscular". Jeff clicked again. "Damn, what are you looking for, Tony?" "I want my buns to be better than any ballet dancer's. I want to have the power back there to run incredibly well." Jeff clicked twice more. Tony mulled it over. That looked stupendous. Just to be sure he was satisfied, Jeff tried a third click and the machine beeped. "Additional augmentation of musculature in this area is not supported by skeletal structure" "That's the end of your end" said Jeff.
They continued onward. Tony made his calves more muscular and reduced his new body's average percentage of body weight as fat from a lean 9% to an amazing 3%. The rotating 3D model's abs suddenly showed as well as his other muscles. Eventually, "Penis Size" appeared as a heading on the screen. Tony increased the indicated flaccid and erect lengths just an inch each but really increased the thickness. He left his future balls as they were. Finally, they went through a score of choices in regard to athletic abilities. Tony wanted to be able to dunk a basketball and when Jeff clicked on the 99th percentile of leaping ability, a message appeared that, in conjunction with the chosen musculature, Tony would be able to dunk on an 11 foot high rim. He acquired the ability to run 100 meters in 10.0 seconds, long jump 29 feet and throw a baseball 99 miles per hour with control.
It was all too much to consider at once, but when they were through, Jeff pointed the emitter at his jackass friend.
"Ready?"
"Yeah, I think so"
Jeff pressed enter. Jeff felt an electic wave go through him and his nearly half ton body start to shrink.