Get your phone back and try to explain what happened

11:48 | Saturday 2 August 2025 | Kitchen/Bedroom, Putney flat

You drop to your knees—the motion feeling strange with your new centre of gravity—and reach under the bed, fingers scrambling across dusty floorboards until they close around the phone. The screen lights up immediately, casting a pink glow across your face.

"David, I can show you—" You rush back to the kitchen, thrusting the phone toward your flatmate. "Look, there was this app, it made me—"

But the words die in your throat. Actually die. Your mouth moves, but nothing comes out when you try to say "Perfect Girlfriend App." You try again. Nothing. The syllables simply won't form.

David leans in to look at the screen, his brow furrowed. "Your... Instagram?" He glances up at you, concern etched across his features. "Mate—sorry, I mean..." He runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with what to call you. "What the fuck just happened to you?"

"No, not Instagram, it's—" But again, the explanation locks in your throat. You stare at the screen in your hand, and your stomach drops. Because David's right. All he can see is your Instagram feed. Workout photos, astronomy memes, a selfie from last week.

"Hiiiii Sophie!" Becky's voice chirps from the phone, but David doesn't react. He can't hear her. Only you can see her materialise on the screen, practically bouncing with glee. "Ohmigod, babe, you look SO good! And trying to tell him? That's adorable. You know the rules—what happens in the app stays in the app."

"I..." You swallow hard, looking between the phone and David. "I don't know how to explain this."

David takes a step closer, and you're suddenly acutely aware of how tall he is. How his shoulders fill out his t-shirt. The concern in his dark eyes makes something flutter in your chest that definitely wasn't there before. You'd always found women attractive, still do when you think about it, but this... this is different. New. The way he's looking at you, the protective edge to his posture—

"Are you... Are you okay?" His voice is gentle now. "Should I call someone? An ambulance? The police?"

Becky giggles on the screen. "Oh, sweetie, no one's gonna help you change back. But you know what would help? My Kink Wheel! Thirty-five Babe Bucks, just like that." She snaps her fingers. "And all you gotta do is let me give you one teensy little kink. It'll make earning more points SO much easier, trust me. Plus..." Her grin widens. "It's not like things can get much worse, right?"

You clutch the phone tighter, your—her—your new breasts rising and falling with shallow breaths. David is still staring, waiting for an answer you can't give.

11:56 | Saturday 2 August 2025 | Kitchen, Putney flat