You're a little dubious about asking for any widespread changes, but you figure some improvements to yourself couldn't hurt. "Okay, please make me more muscular," you say, "and, I guess, more attractive overall."
The sex fairy asks, "You mean muscular like a bodybuilder, or just well-developed, like you work out?"
"Uh, the second one." You didn't really have "huge freak" in mind.
"Okay, and I'll throw in a few extras, too. You'll love 'em."
Before you can say anything, the fairy has waved her wand, and a spurt of sparkles flies toward your face. You don't feel anything when the sparkles hit, but you soon have the unfamiliar sensation of your body -- well, "stretching" is the best way to describe it. You grab your left arm with your right hand, and you can literally feel the muscles swelling beneath your skin. You also see your skin darken to a golden brown tan.
Once your body stops shifting, your T-shirt morphs into a tank top. You pull it up and look down at your chest, to see your prominent pecs and a rigid 6-pack.
"Nice, huh?" says the fairy. You drop the shirt's hem and look back up at her.
"Okay, the extras," she continues. "Your body will naturally stay this way -- you don't need to exercise or worry about what you eat. No need to worry about sunburn, or acne, either. You're immune to any and all sexually transmitted diseases, although that's an extra I give to everyone I change. Your semen smells and tastes delicious -- just wait until the word gets around about that. Now, you'll actually be shooting blanks until there's something on the ring finger of your left hand, so you won't get anyone pregnant until you're married. I think that's it -- there may be a few other minor things, but I promise they're good."
"Uh, thanks," you say. That's a lot to think about; all you know is that your life has changed, for the better, apparently.
"Well," says the fairy, looking around, "unless you've got anything else, I'll just restart time and be on my way..."
She disappears in a cloud of sparkles. The school hallway comes alive with a noisy hubbub. Someone runs into you.
It's Amelia Jacobs, a bitchy, but hot, cheerleader. She starts to yell, "Hey, what are you doing stopping in the middle of the --" Then she looks up. "Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry. It was all my fault." She smiles, and bats her eyelashes.