As the Goth walks over, she sneers at you.
"Hey Prissy, I think your mascara's smudged. Ya might wanna fix it, ya pansy."
Hearing this, you immediately grab a mirror and whip out your mascara brush, because, like, if my makeup ith'nt perfect, I'd totally die of, like, embarrassment, you think.
"Oh, and by the way, your dreamy nerd boy just told me that he thinks that ya belong in some kind of brothel."
At this, you stare dumbfounded at her. She smirks at you, then starts making kissy faces at you, not realising that your weapon is pointed right at her.
With a sound like rushing water, the pink beam strikes the Goth on the shoulder. She clutches it, glaring with rage at you while her clothes turn a dark pink.
"You'll pay for that, Little Miss Priss..." Her two friends, Unfashionable No. 1 and Unfashionable No. 2, ready their rifles and charge them 'til it hurts to look at the pretty pink light.
"Get her."
You close your eyes tightly, feeling the long eyelashes tickle your face. As you raise your hands to protect your face, the twin beams of light strike your pert breasts.
Instantly, a jolt of pleasure runs up your spine, and you moan in ecstasy as you feel your chest grow ever heavier, your dress becoming ever more revealing, while more petticoats magically form. Along with your growing breasts, your derriere swells in unison with your lips, hips, and your hair's volume, whilst your waist shrinks ever smaller.
Eventually, the changes stop, with your chest being a FFF-cup, and your legs, hips and rear enough to make any man aroused. Your lips have grown as well, being very full, while not seeming like a trout. As you feel a strange sensation on your lower torso, you look down, and clap with joy as you see that your hair is extremely long.
As you continue to look in the mirror, the leader of the boys' team, Jason, looks at his crew, unsure of what to do, while Angelique, the leader of the girls, kneels on top of a large rock, pensive.
Well...?