Jon scrambled away from his house and across the street. Maybe it was something inside that was making him wish so strangely. Whatever it was, he wanted it to stop.
He took a deep breath and found that even in the fresh air, his new alluring scent was just as potent as it had been inside. Silently cursing his luck, he chose a direction at random and began to walk. His smell was continuing to turn him on, so if he didn't want to be caught outside with a huge boner, he figured that he should probably create some distraction. Walking would do a fine job; new sights, new sounds, maybe he'd run into someone he knew to talk to.
Thinking of meeting a friend, or worse, an enemy on the road, though, caused Jon to shove his hands in his pockets. The last thing he wanted was for someone to noticed that some of his fingernails were painted pink. They might think him some kind of fruit!
Now that he thought about it, however, since he was the only one who had heard the wish about the nail polish, didn't everyone else already think that his nails should be painted? If that was true, what did people think about him? Was it normal for a guy like him to paint his nails, or did Jon has a reputation as a weirdo, the type of guy who was into painting his nails pink.
Pushing the thought from his mind, Jon noted that he had come to an intersection. Turning right and walking three blocks would take him to Karyn's house. Left would take him to the school. Straight ahead the road did not continue, but rather ended with a large Tudor-style house with a white convertible Mustang in the driveway. He had often longed to take that car for a drive, Mustangs being his favourite car. Ever since he was a young teenager and had seen a Mustang pinup at the local garage, the one with the leggy blonde in a bikini and high heels, he had known what it was he wanted to drive.
Just as he decided that he was going to head over to Karyn's place to ask for advice, he said, "I wish that I had to wear sexy high-heeled shoes."
"What the hell?!" He shouted, realized what he had done. Immediately his hand glowed, and he felt his legs move. Soon, Jon was standing on his tip-toes in a pair of high-heeled sandals, laced half-way up his calf.
"Shit," he swore, as he turned and headed to Karyn's place, getting another whiff of his alluring scent. He needed help.
