"I wish anything I put on would fit this body," Jennifer said.
Another dollar from the stack went up in a puff of smoke. She reached down to pick up the sweatpants, but noticed that instead of sneakers and white ankle socks, she wore a pair of wedges with what must have been 6-inch heels and black thigh-high stockings with lace tops.
"O-o-o-okay," she muttered, as she stood up gingerly, unaccustomed to wearing such tall heels, and pulled the sweatpants on, past the shoes.
No sooner had she gotten them over her ass than the cotton material changed transformed to black latex, the bottom hem quickly crawling up to just below her knees as they tightened to become form-fitting capri pants. Which, she quickly realized, showed everything, given that she wasn't wearing underwear.
She managed to wrestle the latex pants off and try on more items from her closet. The more she tried on, though, the more it became clear that anything she put on wouldn't just adjust to her size, it would transform to become sexier. Sure, skirts would fit over her ass now, but they'd become short enough to just barely cover it. Sure, bras went from a B to an H cup, but they changed into nipple-revealing shelf bras, or at best push-up models that made her breasts appear even larger than they already were. And her shoes now all had high heels.
She sat back down on the bed in a PVC microskirt, a barely-there halter top, and knee-high platform boots that, when she'd stood up in them, made her feel about a foot taller (although between the platforms and the high heels, it was probably only 8 or 9 inches).
What did I say? she tried to remember. "I wish anything I put on would fit this body" -- oh, my God, I think -- I said, "fit this body," this sexy body, so anything I put on is gonna be sexy!
Jennifer contemplated her current situation -- the sexiest girl in school, sure, but forced to dress like a stripper or hooker, it seemed. Good thing she still had $98 in wishing money left.