Rick dropped to his knees vomitting on Bob's wool handwoven oriental rug. Bob heard the commotion and came running over. He was more concerned with the carpet than he was with Rick until Josh and Paul started to get sick. They rushed to the bathroom, starting to spew as they fled down the hall.
Liz Tyler, Bob's colleague from work, came over and whispered, "Is it food poisoning?"
I was close enough to overhear, and much as I wanted to follow Josh and Paul to watch them become the jackasses they deserved to be, I didn't want the party winding down early. I stepped forward to reassure Bob and Liz that the three hadn't eaten anything, but had been mixing drinks. "...vodka, schapps, beer, martinis, wine--you name it they grabbed whatever was offered. Confidentially, I think they started before they got here. Let me help Rick to the bathroom, I'll get him cleaned up, and just in case, he's not, uh, done expelling the excess poisons."
Rick had trouble standing on his hindlegs. So, I slipped my arm under his arm--well, I should say foreleg, since when I touched it I could feel that the appendage had changed sufficiently under his sleeve to no longer be considered an arm. Rick looked delirious, but seemed grateful that I'd come to his aid. He might not have been so grateful, if he knew I was responsible for his changes. Rick's face,ears,neck,and arms were covered with fine hairs, but the host and guests were oblivious to the changes. Bob corralled a couple of the caterer's servers to clean up the vomit, and Liz returned to her cliche loudly complaining about how people shouldn't mix drinks.
I smiled, and slipped my belt off. I was going to need it soon, Rick was getting heavy. His trousers were already bunched up around his shortening legs. His arms had grown several inches beyond his sleeves, and his fingers looked like they were getting shorter. No, I misspoke, not shorter, his fingers were fusing. Fusing into hooves.
Releasing my grip on Rick, he dropped to all fours. Realizing he could now stand and walk, Rick relaxed. I slipped my belt around Rick's neck, and led him to the bathroom. His ears had inched about 2 inches up the side of his head. We reached the bathroom, and I pushed the door open.
It looked like a scene out of a Pinocchio movie directed by Wes Craven. Paul and Josh stood there with 4 inch donkey ears, tails pushing out of the backs of their trousers. Paul stood over the toilet balancing with his hooves on the marble vanity. His mouth and nose started to push outward to form his muzzle. From the expression on his face, the pain must have been excruciating. Josh had already dropped to all fours. He was struggling to get out of his uncomfortable clothing. It wasn't natural for jackasses to wear clothing.
"Uhhhh, ohh," Rick moaned. His muzzle had started to grow.
I privately lamented not bringing a video camera. Perhaps, I could borrow one from Bob before I make more improvements to his guests.
Rick was wide-eyed with terror. Apparently, since I had used the ray on him, it had made him cognizant of the changes Josh and Paul were undergoing. I needed to reassure my friend, so I leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Don't worry, pal, you'll be human again. Can't say the same for those two jackasses," I nodded toward Paul and Josh and winked.
"Hey, whatcha mean by thaaaat craack!" Paul brayed. Thinking of the Red Riding Hood line, I guessed with the big ears, they really could hear better.
Josh looked up at Paul, and said, "You'rrre chaaanging."
"No, I'm not. Youare, youare," Paul brayed.
Taking out the device, it took three minor adjustments to make my trio of asses self aware. The result was stunned silence, as each donkeyman examined his hirsute bodies. Their mouths hung open. With the self awareness, the transformation seemed to accelerate. Ears shot up, muzzles thrust out, hooves darkened, eyes became more equine--sorry, assinine, teeth grew huge to fit their new jaws. They were become cute little jackasses. I helped Josh out of his remaining clothing, and then denuded Paul and Rick. They were quite a handsome trio of asses.
I could just see Josh and Paul carrying fat tourists up and down the narrow steep paths at the Grand Canyon. I beamed at my success with my little beam gun, and patted it in my pocket.
"Now, what or who should I transform next?" Paul and Josh just stared.
I felt a wet warmness on the back of my hand. I looked down to see Rick nuzzling me with his muzzle. He looked up at me with such imploring puppy dog eyes, I was tempted to turn him into a puppy dog. But I had promised to turn him back before the night was over.
But first I wanted to borrow Bob'a videocam. The next transformation was going to be recorded.