"Ah, I think this is the perfect place to start," said Tabitha. She nodded toward the Hooters restaurant across the street. I had a very bad feeling.
We went inside. It was the tail end of the lunch hour, and the place was packed. The hostess, in her white tank-top and orange shorts, saw us, smiled, and said, "Two for lunch? It'll be about a 10-minute wait."
"Oh, that's fine," said Tabitha. "In fact, I wish no one who's in here right now would be able to leave until I say otherwise."
The hostess looked a little startled at that, but recovered enough to say, "You can wait at the bar if you'd like."
"Yes, the bar," said Tabitha, heading that way. I followed her, using my index finger to make a circular motion near my ear, giving the international symbol for "crazy" for the hostess's benefit. She giggled.
Before I could say anything, Tabitha found an empty barstool and climbed into a standing position on the leg braces to make herself a bit taller. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," she yelled, "especially you gentlemen. May I have your attention, please? "
The din of the restaurant faded, and eyes turned toward her. I was a little impressed, especially since none of the men were seeing her as naked, the way I was.
Tabitha smiled and continued, "I wish that all the men in here would transform into a woman straight out of their sexual fantasies, complete with clothes and everything -- and any gay men here can borrow a fantasy from a nearby straight guy, if necessary."
The noise level erupted. People were growing shorter. Hair was lengthening. Breasts were ballooning. Business suits were shrinking into bikinis. Polo shirts and khakis were becoming skimpy cheerleader uniforms.
At the table next to where I was standing, a blonde with porn-movie makeup and a red vinyl minidress was staring in disbelief at the pierced and tattooed porcelain-skinned Goth who was looking down at the new endowments being pushed upward by her leather corset top. On the other side, an Asian woman with hair down to her ankles and melon- sized breasts barely contained in a tight silk dress jumped up onto her platform heels and exclaimed, "Holy shit, you perv" -- apparently directed at the anthropomorphic 6- breasted tabby cat that her dining companion had become. I also saw a table that now held two almost identical-looking women, but one had a shorter skirt and much larger breasts -- apparently, someone had been fantasizing about one of his co-workers.
The Hooters staff was standing around, not sure what to do, since this kind of thing wasn't really in their training manual. An overly chesty Eva Longoria in a sequined black cocktail dress ran up to one of the waitresses and asked, "What the fuck just happened here?" The waitress seemed too stunned to say anything, so she continued, "It's me. José. The cook!"
I started to scan the room for more celebrities when Tabitha tapped me on the shoulder. "Notice how no one's trying to leave?" she asked above the noise of the restaurant. "So what do you think of this?"
"It's one thing to change just me," I said. "But these are all people who had lives as men. A lot of them probably have wives and children, so a lot of things would change if you wish they've always been girls the way you did for me."
"I think I'll fix that" Thabita said with an evil smile.