I asked, "What do you mean, improve my body?"
"What do you think I mean?" She rolled her eyes. "Come on, stand up."
I did so, she waved one hand, and my clothing disintegrated. Before I could even reach to cover myself -- not that there was much for me to cover, since my erection had subsided -- she waved the other hand, and my skin started to crawl. Literally. Actually, my skin was bulging, and growing darker, as my skinny, pasty white body developed muscles and a tan.
I couldn't keep my hands off myself as my pecs swelled, my abdomen popped out into a 6-pack, and an enlarged biceps and triceps ensured my arms could no longer be compared to pipe cleaners. Once things seemed to have stopped swelling, I caught sight of myself in the mirror on top of Tiffany's dresser. I was so interested in the muscles that I hadn't noticed that my hair was now a bit longer than shoulder length, and the fact that my face was now clear of acne and five o'clock shadow was a nice touch. My facial features themselves didn't seem to have been changed much, if at all, but now that they were on a romance novel cover-type body, I felt like I looked downright gorgeous.
There was just one thing, though. I turned toward Tiffany, and she said, "I know what you're thinking. Look down."
I did just that, and saw my genitalia practically explode. My balls were now the size of ripe plums, and my dick expanded until it was -- well, some kind of sausage, I guessed.
"I can't believe I'm saying this," I said, "but I think it's too big."
Tiffany laughed. "Sorry, I think I got a bit carried away," she admitted. "You probably want to be able to wear normal pants. Unless I changed reality..."
"Oh, no," I interrupted.
"Spoilsport," she said with a grin, and made another gesture. This time, it felt like some air had been let out below my waist, and my equipment deflated. But not too much -- when it stopped, it was still of what I guessed were porn-star proportions. Tiffany must have noticed the quizzical expression on my face, because she said, "I wanted to give you the boost of subconscious self-confidence that comes with being the biggest guy in the room. Don't worry -- it's magical. Any woman's size will adjust so it's a perfect fit inside them." Apparently satisfied for now, she gestured once again, and I was wearing a black tank-top shirt and plaid boxer shorts.
"What else is magical about me?" I asked.
"Ohh, just a few things," she said with an innocent expression, and then started ticking them off on her fingers. "It doesn't matter what you eat or whether or not you exercise, you won't lose any muscle or gain any fat. I cured anything that was wrong with you, and you'll always be in perfect health from now on. You could start smoking and not have to worry about cancer or anything."
"Ugh, no thanks," I said.
"And there's some other stuff that maybe I should let you discover on your own," she said with a little bit of a smirk.
I shook my head. Okay, being transformed into a hunk was a pretty good birthday present, even months late. But this was all getting to be too weird for me. I imagined Tiffany turning back into her old self, blonde and possessing absolutely no magical powers.
Nothing happened. She said, "Now, let's see about getting you an early 18th birthday present."
Had I lost my power over Tiffany? She claimed she'd cured anything that was wrong with me -- did her magic think my power was something "wrong"? I tried again, attempting to focus my thoughts a bit more intensely.