"White boy I don't need now, but white girl...I could get behind that, both idea-wise & bitch-wise, heeheehee!" smirked Dre, pressing the Chronivac. His eyes widened at actually seeing the device that had made him into the pimp he was today start to work, and he knew that he had to make more hos with the mystical object he owned now.
The first thing to shift was the white boy's short brown hair. A loud "psh" noise was heard as cheaply died platinum blonde hair (the roots were visible enough to assume that it was intentional on the ho's part) erupted from empty space around his head, forming into kind of an insanely oversized helmet looking style, with some curlers and beer cans trying to add curls to the sticky/heavy monstrosity, and a hankie/bandanna covering those accessories in a somewhat more fashionable matter. The kid looked like the new do was effecting his brain, too, as he wouldn't stop keep laughing softly to himself.
The body was the next big adventure, as the kid's tweenage body stayed the same puny height, but matured much faster into womanhood than even Bryanna had. Boy clothes stretching against the strain of Kid's new F-cup bossom and a pair of track pants barely containg her (her genitals were swaped by this point), so her clothing matched her "cheap Southern floozy" by becoming a farm shirt (tied under her cleavage, obviously) with a Dixie flag design, and her tight work pants shortened and naturalized into good ol' Daisy Duke speedo-short jean shorts. This set off more giggling.
The last test was memory, and Dre was ready to change that. "Who yo pimp, bitch?" "Uh, you are, sir." "What's you name?" "Reba! Ah've known yah for like 5 years!" "So you like whoring?" "A-COURSE! What sane sexhound would not enjoy starting a lil' bumper cars with my hole, his stick, or her fake stick?" Dre smiled. Dis bitch was ready.