"I just want you to put me back the way I was before you did all of this to me! Just put me back and let me go home. You can do whatever you want with the rest of them!"
The trickster god actually smiled at the request, even while the gathered students gasped. An angry murmuring began to swell.
"LUKE YOU ASSHOLE!" someone shouted.
"Hey! Anyone one of you could have beat me to it! I just thought of it first!" Luke yelled back, defensively.
"Well, I DO like initiative," Loki commented. "And selfish individualism IS the foundation of your nation..."
Everyone in the audience seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what happened next.
"Yes, I will restore you to your old, mundane self," Loki decided, gesturing with his right hand, making a grabbing motion. As he did so, Luke cried out, as the piercings, ink, muscles, and even the tan seemed to be yanked from his body.
Luke felt like he was about to collapse-- and then felt fine. He was back to normal, but still dressed in his ruined clothing.
"And now, a little bonus for initiative-- I will send you directly home!" the Trickster swept his hand back in Luke's direction and the young man vanished.
A screen suddenly materialized behind Loki, showing a suburban bedroom. Handcuffed, spread-eagle on the bed was a man looking much like and older, middle aged version of Luke. Standing over him, dressed in only skin tight leather pants, and holding a riding crop, was a somewhat matronly woman. She held the man's nuts in her hand.
"You've been VERY naughty!" she scolded menacingly, drawing back the riding crop. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
The man, eyes bulging, ball gag fastened in his mouth, tried to say something. Unseen by the woman, Luke had materialized behind her.
"Oh, that's right. You can't talk. Too bad for you!"
"MOM!" Luke cried out.
The crop, already in motion, hit her husband harder than intended, and he moaned around the gag.
"Dad?!"
Luke collapsed on the floor.
"Ooops! I guess they didn't expect him home so soon!" Loki laughed, as the screen disappeared. "Now, where were we...?"
The trickster god glanced around, and his eyes fell on a stack of envelopes.
"Oh, yes! Awards! What's a prom without presentations?"
He picked up the envelopes and started sorting them.
"Let's see... no, no, not yet... AH! The first award is..."