Transform the Waitress

You casually turn halfway around in your chair so you can see the waitress getting your drinks ready. Turning back to Venus, you ask, "What do you say we try out some of this absolute power we share?"

"What did you have in mind?" she asks.

"Oh, something like this," you say, turning back toward the waitress as she works on refilling the diner coffeepot. You point a finger at her for effect. In the blink of an eye, her red hair has gone from a French braid into a high ponytail, her face is heavily made up, and she's wearing a black latex outfit that looks like an erotic parody of a waitress uniform, along with fishnet stockings and a silver-studded leather choker and cuffs. Just as you'd wished, she doesn't notice her transformation, and even her newly long black fingernails don't seem to slow her down as she fills a glass from the orange juice dispenser.

"Come on, you've gone too far," says Venus. She points a finger of her own at the waitress. The outfit is now pink-and-white, and no longer latex; the accessories are gone, and her ponytail is now lower and tied up with a ribbon. She's still fully made up, though, her face a perfect mix of teenage innocence and sultry sexuality. You can picture her being the wet dream of a teenage boy back in 1959.

"Nice," you say to Venus. "But I thought you said you were going to be a good girl."

"I still am!" Venus protests. "And she still is... mostly."

You turn back around to see the waitress walking out from behind the counter with your drinks on a tray. You're a bit disappointed to see that she has pink sneakers on her feet, but with a quick thought from you, she's suddenly wearing pink plastic platform heels. You see her barely stumble with the alteration, but the drinks are only slightly jostled.

"John!" Venus exclaims in a low voice. "She can't stand and walk all day in those!"

"Sure she can," you quietly assure her. "I changed her feet and ankles and sense of balance, and --"

You're interrupted as she arrives at the table. "Two orange juices," she says as she puts a glass down in front of each of you, "and two coffees, and here's some cream as well." She puts down the cups and saucers and a small silver-colored pitcher, then takes something out of the front pocket of her uniform. "A couple straws if you need them."

You respond, "Thank you, uh, we didn't get your name."

She looks down at her uniform. "Huh, I don't know what happened to my nametag. I'm Elizabeth."

"Surely you're more of a Betty," you suggest, and in fact, the name "Betty" appears embroidered in black thread over her left breast.

A brief flicker of confusion crosses her face, and then she smiles. "Yes. What did I say? I've always gone by Betty. Anyway, are you ready to order some food?"

Your little game had distracted you and Venus enough that you hadn't even had a chance to look at the menu, but Venus just says, "Bring us one of each of the breakfast specials." Betty raises a perfectly-groomed eyebrow, and Venus explains, "We're very hungry."

Betty takes out a pad of paper and writes something on it, then says, "Okay, I'll have everything out for you in a bit."

As she walks away, you turn to look. Even with her rear end being enhanced by the high heels, you can't resist giving things a little bump, expanding her hips and ass just a bit.

"I saw what you did there," says Venus quietly. You turn to see her grinning, though, as she opens a packet of Splenda and dumps the white powder in her coffee.

"We don't really have to worry about calories anymore. You can use real sugar," you tell her.

"Thanks for the godsplaining," she says. "I could also change this into some 100-year-old wine, but that wouldn't go well with breakfast. So, who's next?"

"Huh?"

She nods toward the other diner patrons in turn. "There's that middle-aged couple, those three college girls, those two businessmen, I assume at least a cook and a dishwasher in the kitchen. I can tell you're itching to do some more stuff. So who's next?"