Jen rolled her eyes. Town curses? What a fucking dweeb. "I pick transfworm," she said, in a baby voice. "Oh no, don't hurt me!" she laughed cruelly, but it tapered off as she realised Kyle wasn't reacting. "You still there, dork?"
"Jennifer, for your transform, you are going to go to the town train station, walk into the men's bathroom, and replace one of the toilets by transforming into one."
Jennifer burst into peals of laughter. "Oh, am I? Well, good luck at school from now on, dork. I'm gonna make sure your life is heeeeell." And so, malice on her mind, Jen walked to the kitchen, got a Pop Tart, said goodbye to her mother and the young cheerleader set out to get the school bus.
The smell hitting her nostrils woke her from her reverie. Wait. Why had she... She'd walked past the bus stop for the school, crossed the road, and headed downtown to the train station. An old, dilapidated one, it was run-down and dirty. The mirrors were cracked, the sinks greening, the floors utterly filthy. Fortunately no one else was here, just her and the rancid stench of piss.
"Hold up, now if I'm here, then..." Jen watched her arm pushed open the toilet stall door and the toilet just... vanished! The pipes were left unconnected, as if it had never been there, the only evidence it ever had been being the floor being marginally cleaner where it once stood. "No... no..." Turning around and squatting down, she balanced between the two pipes...
And suddenly squatted downwards, her legs locking into place. "No! Fuck you, Kyle, I'll get y-OOOOOHHHH!" Jennifer wailed as her pussy and ass were irrevocably widened, the pipes slamming into place to hook her into the plumbing. Her clothes dissolved off her like mist as she suddenly bent forward painfully, her nose touching the disgusting floor. She fought nausea as with a yelp and a snap, she folded backwards just under the ribcage, folding into a concertina between her squatting legs, head nestling between her raised knees.
As her tits inflated into a makeshift toilet seat, Jen felt her skull deform, her face now in the bottom of a wide fleshy bowl, rising up to just below her cushion-tits. She could only stare at the ceiling, the mouldy tiles as her arms wrapped around the front of her makeshift bowl and locked into place. A sign appeared above her, and a tear ran down her face for a moment, but only a moment. She could keep her eyes open, she could breathe it, but Jen was now looking up through the toilet water that had filled her face bowl.
The sign read 'TO FLUSH, CALL ME A SHIT GUZZLING CUNT'