Jonny goes on.

“You got successful and let yourself devolve into this gelatinous blob you try to pass off as a body!” he yelled, gesturing to Glickman’s jiggle-prone belly. “You think that just ‘cause you got money women will fall all over themselves to be with a slob like you, and the fucking sad thing is you’re right! But you know what?” Jonny demanded. “The world doesn’t need more of you . . . it’s the successful ones who then get complacent that are dangerous . . . pride cometh before the fall fat-ass!” Jonny yelled.

“So I’m going to do the world and you a favor, ‘cause deep down I know you got a good heart, Stan. It’s filled with plaque and damn near exploding, but I’m sure you’ve got a cardiologist to tell you that, and I’ll do a lot more for you than that, Stan,” Jonny said, patting Stan on the belly like they were old buds. “You’re going to experience life from the other side of the coin my man! You’re going to have to claw your way back to the top with nothing but your body and your wits to help you!” he yelled out.

Jonny looked over at Lisa. She watched intently, not sure what he was going to do. “I hope you’re ready for your new life fella; it’s gonna be a hoot!” he yelled as his eyes glowed red and he suddenly jumped forward and placed his hand on Glickman’s bulging belly. The fat man’s eyes glowed too. Within seconds, he relaxed, and his body began to shift.

Glickman’s thighs slimmed down dramatically such that they were toned and athletic. You could fit three sets of his altered legs in the fat-man’s pants he still wore. His belly quivered next. Suddenly, the rolls of fat receded into nothing only to be replaced by a toned and rock-hard set of abs. The skin on his body became clear and tight and beautiful. Glickman’s hands changed next, his hairy and pudgy fingers replaced with dainty digits adorned with rings and long, beautiful nails. Suddenly, his now-smaller mid-section began to shake and writhe about. It was as though some viscous fluid were moving about inside him just looking for a place to come out. Suddenly, it found a place. His chest surged forth into two large, gorgeous, and fleshy mounds perched upon his chest. They were so big that even his fat-man shirt struggled to contain the new set of mummeries.

Glickman’s face thinned out. He lost the double chin, and he lost thirty years of age as his face slimmed and tightened. He closed his eyes from the strangeness of the feeling. His features became much more feminine. His eyes moved closer together, and a set of gorgeous, thick lips encased his mouth. Long, beautiful black hair sprouted from his head and crawled down his back, and then it all stopped. Black smoke suddenly crawled up his altered body and replaced his now-way-too-big suit with a sexy red set of leather shorts that did not even reach his mid-thigh. His mid-section was uncovered except for a shiny red leather bikini top from which his boobs threatened to burst forth at any moment.

Jonny stepped back and looked at his new creation. He waived his hand, and the new woman dropped roughly from the suspended position to the ground, causing a pronounced jiggle in her chest and a beautiful view of said chest as the figure struggled on all fours to adjust to a whole new set of sensations. “Wha—“ she began, now able to speak again. “What you do me!” she yelled, her voice now decidedly female and carrying a very rough Eastern European accent of some kind.

“Gave you a new start, my dear,” Jonny responded. The woman sat plopped on the roof massaging her breasts as if to ensure they were hers. “Why—why you do me this!?” she yelled, “why you make woman—make big?!” she exclaimed, her last question presumably a reference to her chest.

Jonny chuckled. “Well every woman should have an asset . . . and your assets happen to be perched on your chest. It’s a shame you have some trouble with speaking clear English, though,” Jonny said, “although that might be a turn-on for some men . . . may have to make your way back to the top by spending some time on the bottom of others,” Jonny said tauntingly. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Name is Sta—Sta—Stasha Rosinkov!” she said, unable to utter the name of her old body. “Very good, Stasha,” Jonny said, amused, “you get to start over . . . how many former men in their fifties get to say that?” he asked. The new Stasha looked at him with rage in her eyes. “I use body . . . I survive, make you see. I use body . . . make life different!” she exclaimed. “You get right on that, oh jiggly one,” Jonny said, and snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, smoke enveloped the buxom woman with the accent—Stasha—and she was gone. Jonny rubbed his hands together as if getting dust off. “Not bad for a day’s work,” he said, “and it’s only noon—how’d you like some lunch, Lisa?” he asked. “I would,” she said, “where did you send her. “A seedy bar in the bad side of town . . . she’ll have to learn to use that body really fast if she wants to survive. In the mean time, the city, or at least some very powerful people in the city, will be in shock at the disappearance of a wealthy lawyer who was about to begin major litigation. Should be fun to watch,” he mused as the two walked back in the direction of the door.

The two exited the office before the same pretty secretary who had sent them in. She was surprised to see them. “Funny thing,” Jonny said to the secretary, “he’s not in there! We even went in and tried calling him . . . we’ll return later I guess.” A look of panic crossed the secretary’s face. She bolted from her chair into the office to find her boss, and she would surely call missing persons soon. Jonny and Lisa exited quietly and headed for the car.