You daintily pick up the pink cookie, thinking it might possibly toggle the effect. Just as you're about to eat it, though, you notice there's a difference between this one and the previous one. The one you're about to eat seems to have some kind of glittery sprinkles all over it. You conclude you'd have just as much a chance with it as any other cookie, being as clueless as you are, and eat it anyway. The flavor is sweet, almost disgustingly so. Like a mouthful of strawberry syrup and powdered sugar.
Once you manage to choke it down, a dizzying sensation of vertigo overcomes you, and you find yourself lost in disorientation for a moment. When you come back into focus, you gape in shock at how large everything has become. The woman is now at least a foot taller than you. Looking down at yourself, taking in the pant cuffs dragging on the floor, your former short sleeves extending halfway down your forearms, your shirt hanging loose on you, tented by your two sizeable breasts, the neckline hanging off your shoulder, and realize that you've shrunk! You've probably lost more than a foot. You'd be lucky to break five feet now.
You notice something strange with a lock of hair hanging over your shoulder. It looks like it's fading, growing lighter. It started dark brown, and now looks like it's on its way to blonde. Just as you're marveling at your changing hair color, you feel a deeply distracting pressure on your breasts. You let out a helpless gasp in shock and sensation, that turns into a high-pitched squeak as it leaves your lips. Your eyes are closed, you're helplessly biting your lip, your mind is swimming in pleasure, until the feeling suddenly wavers and stops. Confused, you look down at what may have caused the feeling. You're surprised, and even a little disappointed, to find your breasts are no longer visibly present underneath your shirt. A quick, awkward check confirms they are still there, still as sensitive as ever, but much smaller. Probably only A cups. Seeing your hands are now slimmer and daintier, you check your arms, your legs under your oversized pants, now both pipe-thin. Running your hands up your torso through your loose shirt that now reaches your knees you find your waist, your ribs, everything is tiny. You're absolutely petite now. Probably 90 pounds.
You notice the bleaching of your hair has peaked at a blinding platinum blonde. It has been gaining volume in the process, and now hangs straight from your head before becoming wavy further down, cascading well past your shoulders. As you hold the strands up to your eyes, you notice your nails are now a cheery shade of baby pink. As you look at them, a few growing blobs of white begin to emerge in the center of each nail, until they flourish into five little plastic bows, one adorning each nail. You find your other hand matches now as well.
You find that your hair is now gaining some sort of hue. Thinking maybe some pigment from your swiftly colored nails had gotten into it somehow, you immediately drop the handful of strands between your delicate fingers.. Gazing at the lock curling gently down your nearly flat chest, you gape in shock as it fades to a pastel pink. Gripping your hair frantically and sifting through it, you find it is uniformly changing all throughout. You have just enough time to be horrified that your hair is now pink before sections of it whoosh out of your hand and begin twirling aggressively around your head, causing you to let out a shocked squeal a little too cute for comfort. You wince as it pulls tight on the right side of your head, followed soon by the left. It loses its momentum, and gingerly running some exploratory fingers through it, you find yourself now sporting a pair of high ponytails, leaving the rest unrestrained to tumble gracefully down your back. Lifting your pigtails in shock, you find a few purple highlights woven into the lower waves of your hair, leaving it with the appearance of cotton candy.
Your shirt then begins shrinking, covering the drastic size difference between your former male self and your new petite form. Before it completely tightens, you pull the neckline out to examine a sudden tightness over your chest. A bra, with light padding, has formed over your minuscule little excuses for breasts, hot pink in color. You feel the straps tickling as they crawl over your shoulders to connect to the band in back, which is unfamiliar and uncomfortably tight. You have just enough time to whimper as you recognize the face of Hello Kitty appear on the left cup before your shirt shrinks to your size and the neckline tightens.
The sleeves of your shirt continue shrinking, and the neckline receding into a square shape. It settles into a sundress-like shape before changing color to become a baby pink to match the rest of you. A crisp, soft, and smooth white fabric begins sprawling from underneath the shirt, developing into a white blouse featuring a Peter Pan collar and marginally puffy sleeves. A few strings at the neck twist themselves into a bow. The straps and square neckline of what is now your tank top gain a trimming of high quality lace.
Meanwhile, your jeans have been receding from your ankles. The rough denim changes to the same smooth material as your top, quickly fading to white along the way. It reaches your knees before it stops shrinking. After an uneventful few seconds, the legs begin flaring out, gaining volume. They continue widen until they grow into each other completely. You cover your mouth and squeak faintly when you realize you're in a skirt now, but what did you expect? It now hangs as a dense collection of fold from your waist, gaining back a bit of color until it is identical to your top. You go to apprehensively touch your new skirt when you find it has fused to your shirt. You feel a sliding, tickling sensation against your skin as the merging point slides up to your natural waistline. A bit of nervous poking through your new dress reveals your boxers have shrunk into a tight pair of panties. You elect not to look at them, afraid you might start crying if you see Hello Kitty again.
A tightness on your lower legs draws your attention downward, to find your socks extending upwards, losing their texture and becoming smooth, thin cotton before stopping just over your knees. You teeter a little bit when your shoes gain a slight platform. They recede into smooth, featureless pink, and two Mary Jane-style straps cross each newly exposed top of your socks (stockings?) before fastening with little bows on the outsides. As your shoes attain their final form, you notice a few splotches of red, pink, blue, and several other colors appearing on the outsides of your stockings, developing into a pattern of lollipops and sprinkles tumbling down the white fabric on each calf. Dangling pink ribbons from underneath your skirt alert you that little bows have formed on the back of each stocking. The effect spreads to your new dress (or jumper skirt, rather, the word inexplicably springing to your mind), and a few lollipops and cupcakes spring up here and there across the pink fabric. Designs appear to be clustering near the hem of your skirt, and before you know it a ceaseless parade of shiny candy, frosted cookies, cute cupcakes, and ice cream sundaes topped with bright red cherries twirl around your skirt in every pastel color. Two white bows appear on your top, where the straps meet the rest of the jumper skirt, and a large bow, matching your jumper skirt in color and pattern, now adorns your front at your waistline. Brushing your bare shoulders, you notice a similar bow is now featured on your back at the same level.
Just as you think everything's about to end, you feel a rustling on your legs, and you find your skirt beginning to balloon outward and upward, the baggy creases smoothing out as it gains volume. When it finally stops, you find yourself with a huge, puffy, bell-shaped skirt swishing femininely around your legs. There is a crinkling sensation on your bare thighs, and as you gingerly poke your skirt, you feel something soft and buoyant underneath. You realize you're wearing a petticoat. As a final flourish, a lace trimming appears at the hem.
You stare, wide-eyed and bewildered at the woman, who seems to be struggling to hold back laughter, not sure if you should be angry or plead for mercy. A few finishing touches pop up here and there: about a dozen bracelets of every kind, pink, pearls, bows, charms, appear on your wrists. A few little candy-themed plastic rings are now on your fingers. You feel the clinking of a few pieces of jewelry that have come into being. The scent of heavy cosmetics fills your nose, and a sickly sweet strawberry taste is now on your lips.
The woman goes towards something you assumed to be a decoration and twirls it around, revealing it to be a mirror.
"EHHHHH!?" you screech in the high-pitched, cutesy voice of an anime girl when you see the most perfect, tiny, adorable little teenage Sweet Lolita staring back at you, your horrified face so helplessly cute. You now notice a huge pink bow dominating your hair, and half a dozen other bows and ornaments crammed up there somehow. Through your cotton candy hair, cut in straight bangs, and pink-tinted makeup (there are even heart and star stickers on your cheeks) you find you appear to be Japanese.
You stand in a dainty pose as the cutest, pinkest, sweetest little petticoated girly girl you've ever seen, dripping with bows and little sweets, your adorable Asian face gaping in shock and terror, as the woman takes another plate of cookies from the table and holds them down to your new petite form.
"I should inform you," her English words are just a little bit harder to follow than before, "each of these trays contains a 'reversion' cookie, that will return you to your former male self and end the game. However, each one also contains a 'game over' cookie, that will leave you trapped in your current form forever".
Your petticoat rustles as you approach the tray apprehensively. What's a little Sweet Lolita to do?