Pushing your fucking luck, but sure, you have an iota of focus left.

Shoving temptation and complex questions about the nature of intimacy aside, you part from Alex and approach the counter.

The woman behind it is .. intimidating. Pretty, but intimidating. While you don’t think she’s much taller than you, if at all, her intense eye makeup and her septum piercing make her look detached, coiled, ready to strike. Honestly, if you were still a boy, you’d be too nervous to really talk to her.

“Hey!” Not now, though. “Can I get some help with a … not-so-mundane problem?” You lean over the counter at her, doing your best to smile winningly.

“… probably not,” the edgy brunette says, glancing up at you from the book she’s reading. “We do palm readings, we don’t, like, curse people.”

“I don’t need anyone cursed,” you tell her, shaking your head. “Or my palm read. I’m just kinda’ … well, I’M cursed.” She blinks once, then puts her book down. She rests one hand under the spiked collar around her neck as she regards you for a moment.

“How so?”

“Okay, when I went to bed last night, I was a guy. Total dude. Penis. Whole nine,” you blurt, unable to really measure yourself as she stares you down. “And I get this phone call from this woman, and she tells me she’s a witch, and she cursed me, so if I get pregnant in the next two days, I’m stuck like this.”

“And you want to change back,” she drones, clearly not bought on-board quite yet.

“No, no! I actually …” you shrug, nervously, but grin widely. “Okay, I kind of love it! I feel so much better than I did before, and the SEX? Holy SHIT, you know?! But … I’m not a ‘kids,’ person? Especially not right now, I haven’t even gone to college! So I want to find a way to make sure I stay like this, WITHOUT having to push a screaming infant out of my bits in nine months. Do you got anything for that?”