Home and then a shopping trip, of course!

"Okay," she whispered to herself, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "First things first. I’m going home, getting changed, and then... I'm hitting the mall. For science, of course."

Her mind had already started crafting the perfect plan for the day. She needed to embrace this new version of herself, but she couldn’t do that in a lab coat. No, she needed to dress the part. This transformation was an opportunity, not just scientifically but socially - and Joana was determined to fully explore the possibilities.

With a decisive nod, she turned the key in the ignition, the engine humming to life. The familiar sound of the car’s engine was oddly grounding, a brief reminder of her old self before she set off down the road. Her thoughts began to swirl with possibilities - new clothes, a new look, maybe even a new social circle. Her mind was abuzz with the idea of how she would present herself to the world outside of this sterile lab setting.

She could already picture herself walking through the mall, turning heads. She had never paid much attention to her appearance before - hadn’t needed to. Her intellect had always been her defining feature, the one that made her stand out. But now? Now she had an entirely new kind of power.

The car veered left, taking her toward the familiar suburban streets that led to her apartment. The traffic was light, giving her plenty of time to think. She couldn’t help but replay her interaction with Carol in her mind, the way the receptionist had observed her, the way her eyes had lingered. Carol’s reaction had been playful, flirtatious even. It wasn’t just that Joana was a woman now - it was the fact that she was desired.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how little she had explored the social aspects of her transformation. Sure, the lab had been her world, but now, the world was her lab. She wanted to see how far she could push this new reality, how people would respond to her in her new form. And where better to start than a shopping mall - an environment where women like her were seen, heard, and admired?

By the time Joana reached her apartment, she was practically vibrating with anticipation. The moment the car came to a stop, she wasted no time. She grabbed her bag, slammed the door shut behind her, and ascended the stairs to her unit with the kind of confidence that only someone fully aware of their power could have.

The apartment felt... strangely familiar.

As Joana stepped inside, she half - expected some dramatic shift - a new color scheme, different furniture, maybe a hint of perfume lingering in the air. But no. It was almost exactly how she’d left it.

Same mid - century couch with the coffee stain she never got around to scrubbing out. Same cluttered bookshelf, overflowing with physics journals and sci - fi paperbacks. Even the half - eaten protein bar on the counter was still there, wrapper curled like a fossil of her former self.

She set her bag down slowly, eyes scanning the space for inconsistencies. There weren’t many. If this was a complete reality rewrite, it had been executed with surgical precision made with minimal change beyond the specifications.

The only changes were subtle - almost too subtle to notice unless you knew what to look for.

A framed photo on the kitchen wall now showed a slightly different version of her at a conference - same podium, same slide deck, but the speaker was Joana, not Jon. She was dressed in a sleek blazer and high - waisted slacks, auburn hair tied in a low twist, eyes sharp behind her glasses. The memory didn’t exist, and yet... some part of her recognized it. Her brain buzzed, as if the synaptic map of her life had been redrawn, its streets renamed but familiar.

She walked into the bedroom. Again, barely anything had changed. Her bed was unmade, a familiar chaos of blankets and mismatched pillows. The closet door creaked open, and inside, the reality shift made itself known in quiet, practical ways. Her old wardrobe was still there - but interspersed between the hoodies and plain button - downs were a few new additions. Fitted jeans with stretch panels, blouses in soft fabrics, a couple of dresses with tags still on. The lingerie drawer was the biggest shock - her usual lineup of utilitarian boxer briefs had been replaced with seamless thongs and lacy bralettes. A practical starter kit, perhaps. Just enough to support the notion of a sufficient alteration.

“Interesting. The device's energy minimization feature seems to be working a little too well by refusing to fill in the blanks,” she murmured, fingers brushing against a silky red camisole. “It's like I’ve always lived this way, both in similarity to Jon and in familiarity to Joana.”

She opened the bathroom cabinet next. New additions: hair detangling spray, a rose - scented body lotion, a compact with a cream foundation she instinctively knew matched her new skin tone. Her toothbrush was pink now. Somehow that felt like the most intimate change.

Joana exhaled slowly, closing the cabinet.

Her apartment hadn’t been overhauled - it had been tweaked. Just enough to support her new identity. Reality hadn’t rewritten her surroundings wholesale. It had edited them like a careful proofreader - changing the details, not the structure.

And that told her something important.

“This wasn’t just a transformation,” she whispered, pacing slowly. “It was... integration. My life, my records, even my home - it’s all been patched over, not replaced. Fascinating.”

The implications hit her all at once. If her home was this familiar, maybe her life was still hers. The people, the job, the research... it was possible she hadn't overwritten anyone, just recontextualized herself within the world she already occupied.

That made her next move feel even more critical.

She stepped back into the bedroom and slid the closet open wider, fingers tracing the edge of the door like she was opening a portal. A thrill bubbled in her chest - half anticipation, half disbelief. The mall suddenly felt less like an indulgence and more like a reconnaissance mission. She needed to experience her new life in public, to observe how the world interacted with her now - this version of her.

She ran her hand along the clothing rack, marveling at the new textures and fabrics she’d never owned before. It was like browsing someone else’s closet that slowly became more familiar the more she looked through it.

And yet, she knew what she wanted to wear. Instinctively.

Her fingers landed on a pair of tight, charcoal gym shorts with a double - layer waistband. She stepped into them and pulled them up her smooth legs, the fabric clinging deliciously to her thighs and accentuating the curve of her hips. They fit like a glove, sculpted and snug, framing her figure in a way that felt both daring and empowering.

Joana let out a breathy laugh. “Okay... that’s definitely a look.”

Next came a faded band t - shirt - vintage - style, soft cotton, worn - in just enough to feel like a second skin. She tugged it down over her head, and it caught for a moment around her chest before stretching over her generous bust. The way it draped was perfect: suggestive without being obvious. She twisted it at her waist and tied it off in a knot, revealing a glimpse of her toned stomach. The result? A casual, sexy look that showed off her figure without trying too hard.

Her reflection caught her off - guard. There was something intoxicating about it - how the shirt hugged the swell of her breasts, how the shorts cupped her full backside, how her long legs looked even longer with the high waist. She gave a little spin, watching the soft bounce of her ponytail and the sway of her hips. Her cheeks flushed, a giddy grin pulling at her lips.

She reached for a pair of black ankle boots nestled in the corner of the closet - sleek, minimal, and surprisingly practical. She had no memory of ever buying them, but they were exactly her style. She stepped into them, adjusting the laces. Perfect fit.

Standing fully dressed, she felt a rush of excitement - a kind of exhilaration she hadn’t known she was missing. The outfit, the curves, the effortless femininity - it wasn’t just a costume. It was her. Somehow, deeply, it was her.

A glance in the mirror confirmed it.

The woman staring back with the same squarish glasses as always was a knockout, even as dressed down as she was. Strong yet soft, confident yet curious. A scientist in gym shorts. A thinker with killer legs. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she ran her fingers through her auburn hair, letting it fall naturally over one shoulder.

“Ok, this is me now,” she whispered, almost reverently. “And I look amazing.”

She grabbed her keys off the nightstand and with the RAC prototype still in her bag - just in case - her pulse quickened as she headed for the door, anticipation buzzing beneath her skin.