"Mom, I wish you and Zoe were big-breasted sluts like me."
The rock flashed, and with no 7-day waiting period, the effects were immediate. Jane Gibson now looked very much like her elder daughter, an incredibly voluptuous but short woman with long platinum blonde hair. Zoe was less dramatically built -- breasts the size of honeydew melons instead of soccer balls. However, her hair was jet black and her skin was nearly porcelain white; with the revealing corset top, ruffled skirt, striped stockings and platform boots she now wore, she was straight out of a Gothic fantasy.
Zoe looked down to see her new dimensions and could only manage a strangled gurgle. Jane yelled, "What did you -- how did you -- what did you do?!"
Jen said, with a bit of a grin on her face, "Oh, yeah, I didn't tell you. Grandpa left me his wishing rock." She held her thumb and forefinger up, the rock between them.
"I thought that was just a weird family legend!" her mother almost screamed. Jane couldn't believe how far she had to hold her arms out to reach the front of her breasts, now encased in a leather halter top.
"Apparently not," said Jen.
"Okay, okay, you've made your point," said Jane. "Change me back, please."
Jen simply stated, "I can't."
Zoe's lower lip started to quiver.
