Press the LOCK IN button, just so you can shut Becky up, while expecting nothing

11:44 | Saturday 2 August 2025 | Surya's bedroom, Putney flat

Your thumb descends onto the glowing pink button. The moment you make contact, the screen flares brilliant white, so bright you have to squint. A pulse runs through the phone into your hand—not unpleasant, just strange, like touching a live wire that doesn't hurt.

"Ohmigod YES!" Becky squeals from the screen, bouncing on her heels. "Lock-in confirmed, baby! She's all yours! Or... well..." Her grin widens into something predatory. "You'll see."

The screen goes dark.

You stare at the blank phone for a moment, confused. Nothing's happening. You were expecting... what? A girlfriend to materialize? Some kind of confirmation? Instead there's just silence and—

Heat.

It starts in your fingertips, spreading up your arm like wildfire. Your breath catches. The phone slips from your suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering to the floor and skittering under your bed. Your other hand shoots out to grab the doorframe as your knees buckle.

"Fuck," you gasp, but the word comes out wrong, pitched higher, breathy.

Dizziness crashes over you in waves. Your skin prickles with pins and needles, every nerve ending lighting up at once. You stumble out of your bedroom toward the kitchen, needing water, needing to sit down, needing—

The door to David's room swings open.

"Hey, mate, have you seen my—"

David freezes mid-sentence, coffee mug halfway to his lips, as you grab onto the kitchen table for support. Your body convulses, muscles seizing, and you can't stop the moan that tears from your throat.

"What the fuck?" David drops his mug. It shatters on the floor, forgotten.

Your frame is narrowing, shoulders pulling in, height compressing slightly as your center of gravity shifts. You feel your chest tighten, then swell, weight appearing where there was none before. The fabric of your grey t-shirt stretches as breasts bloom beneath it, growing into small, firm mounds—perky and high on your chest.

"Oh god," you moan, voice climbing another octave into something unmistakably feminine. "Oh fuck, what's—"

Your hips flare outward with an audible crack of shifting bone. Your thighs thicken with muscle, ass swelling into a toned, prominent curve that strains the elastic of your boxer shorts. You can feel the definition of each muscle as it develops—quads, hamstrings, glutes all hardening into athletic sculpture.

But it's between your legs where the sensation is most intense.

Everything pulls inward, folding and reshaping with wet, slick sounds that make you whimper. Your cock softens, shrinks, the shaft flattening against your body before it simply... inverts. You feel yourself hollow out, a new void opening up between your thighs, nerve endings reorganizing into unfamiliar patterns. Testicles withdraw into your body, transforming into something else entirely—ovaries you can somehow sense deep in your pelvis.

"Jesus Christ," David whispers, backing against the counter. His eyes are huge, locked onto your writhing form. "Surya, what the fuck is happening to you?"

You can't answer. Your hands fly to your face as features soften and shift. Jawline narrowing, cheekbones lifting, brow smoothing. Your hair remains short and messy, but it's somehow... different. Softer. Shinier. More deliberately styled in that effortlessly attractive way.

The transformation slows, then stops.

You slump forward against the table, gasping for breath. Your chest heaves—and keeps heaving, breasts rising and falling beneath your too-tight shirt. Between your thighs, there's only a slick, trembling absence where your cock used to be. You can feel it—her. Your new body. Every nerve ending screaming that something fundamental has changed.

"Holy fuck," you whisper, and your voice is higher, clearer, entirely female.

David just stares, his face cycling through shock, confusion, and something else you can't quite identify. His mouth opens and closes several times before he manages, "Surya? Is that... are you...?"

You look up at him with eyes that are the same hazel they've always been, just set in a face that's unmistakably feminine. Athletic. Attractive. Exactly like the girl you designed.

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