You really don't want to spend the rest of your life as a short teenaged girl with butterfly wings, that's for sure. So you decide to try another mirror. Spinning around and stopping at random, you open your eyes.
You really could have stopped on a better mirror. You were short before, but just regular short. Now you've shrunk down to no more than six inches tall! What's worse is that you're otherwise unchanged - still a teenaged girl, still butterfly-winged, still naked, just much shorter than before. Since this mirror can do no more harm, you take the opportunity to look yourself over.
Were the girl in front of you anyone else, you'd be falling head-over-heels in love with her, but you can't seem to get turned on looking at yourself. You hope that doesn't reflect a change in your orientation. You're a girl of about fifteen, and though you're not a knockout, you're quite pretty; your figure is slender but nicely curved. Objectively speaking, your breasts are on the smallish side, but they look just right on you. Your facial features are more soft than refined, but they suit you well. Your hair is long and platinum blonde, falling about halfway down your back, contrasting nicely with your wings, which are an exotic, iridescent shade of royal blue which you vaguely remember is found on a type of butterfly native to the Amazon. They reach a span of about six inches, giving your reflection an approximately square shape; you half-smile as you think that the Postal Service could make a stamp with a full-body shot of you.
All this would be wonderful, of course, if it weren't for the fact that this is you. You briefly consider trying another mirror, but that's brought you nothing but trouble. At least you're not, say, morbidly obese; fat mirrors are a standard gimmick in places like this, and you have no doubt that if you'd run into one you'd be a total butterball for real. No, the best course of action is to get the hell out of here; besides, if this place has one atteaction so patently paranormal, there's probably more; you search them for a way to change back. Closing your eyes, you flit your new wings and soar up out of the house of mirrors and back down to street level, wondering where to go next.