T-Minus 17

Seventeen days.

The thought sat heavy on your mind as you stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to steady the breath that kept catching in your throat. The countdown had begun. You’d come so far since the curse, since the _first _day you realized that you were no longer in control of your body, your choices, or your fate. But the end—the end—was so much closer now. Seventeen days until you either pass the trial or you become a woman forever. And today… today was another step.

You knew what you had to do.

There was no room for hesitation. No time for second-guessing. You needed to see Vincent, get him to be the fifth of seven men, so you could wrap this up. It was a task on your list, another move to make in a game that only you and the gods understood.

A small frown played at the edges of your lips, but you shook it off.

The mirror in front of you was far more important than the doubts creeping in.

You hadn’t started the day with the intention of being this… bold. But now, as you stood in front of the mirror, you knew that this look would do more than just help you accomplish your task. It would do something else—something that had nothing to do with Vincent and everything to do with you.

You slid your fingers through the strands of your long, flowing hair, which had taken on a soft, wavy texture today. The blonde hue shimmered under the vanity lights, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. It was a subtle change, but one that felt like a new version of you was emerging. As the brush stroked through your hair, it was clear this new version was becoming someone you were proud of. You liked this.

Your hands moved down to your face, fingers grazing your cheekbones, your jawline as you applied a flawless base. The foundation was smooth, like velvet under your fingers, covering every trace of imperfection, leaving your skin radiant. You had perfected this routine over the course of the past few weeks, and now, as the day loomed, it felt like an art you were finally in full control of.

Next came the contour. You applied it delicately, tracing the natural lines of your face and accentuating your features just the right amount. Your cheekbones stood out, sharp and high, giving your face a sculpted look that made your lips appear even fuller.

The eyes.

You’d always had a thing for making your eyes pop—today, though, you wanted to make them impossible to ignore. Your lids were coated in a shimmery champagne gold shadow that caught the light with every blink. The smoky eyeliner you carefully drew along your lower lashes added a touch of sultriness, and the top liner was thick and bold, pulling your gaze into something deeper, darker.

Finally, the lashes. The mascara coated each individual lash with a weighty, voluminous finish that lifted and curled them upwards. Your eyes were mesmerizing now—bright, sharp, and utterly captivating.

You stepped back for a moment to take it all in. The makeup, the look—it was bold, sexy, a little daring, but still undeniably you. You were a woman now. And today, you were going to embrace it fully.

But that wasn’t all.

You turned back to the clothes you’d chosen for the day.

Starting with the undergarments—an important detail, of course. You slipped into your most supportive push-up bra, which did wonders for your chest, lifting and accentuating the curves. It was a rich, deep burgundy color that contrasted beautifully with your skin. The panties matched, a delicate lace thong that fit snugly without a hint of discomfort. It felt like armor—the kind of armor that you wore not just for protection but for the confidence it gave you.

The next piece was a high-waisted black pencil skirt—tight and hugging your curves, accentuating your hips in the way that always made you feel like you owned the room. It had a clean, smooth texture that made the fabric glide against your skin with every movement. A subtle slit ran along the back, just high enough to hint at your toned thighs with each step you took.

Your top was the centerpiece of the whole look. You had chosen the black fitted top, a garment so light it felt like a second skin. The scooping smooth neckline showed off your collarbones and peeked at your cleavage, but it was the way the fabric clung to your body that made it impossible to look away from. It draped in all the right places, creating a beautiful silhouette that was both elegant and sensual.

Finally, the heels. You picked your favorite black stiletto heels—simple, yet undeniably striking. The pointed toes made your legs look endless, and the way they clicked against the floor would have anyone’s attention.

You looked at yourself again in the mirror. The outfit was perfect. Sexy, confident, alluring—all the things you needed today. And when you finished the last touches—spritzing your perfume, a soft floral scent—you felt ready. Ready to face whatever today would bring. Ready to make it through the rest of this trial.

Except, maybe you weren’t. Maybe you were ready to lie about it.

Shaking your head, you **** yourself to push away the thought. There was no room for doubt.

Liam had been stressing all of yesterday about you not ticking off a guy, but you convinced him it wasn’t the right time yet, that you still needed to reach out to Vincent and Richard again. He bought it—of course he did. He trusted you. And as soon as you reassured him, he went back to being the perfect boyfriend, showing affection and support, which only made you feel more guilty about what you were planning.

But it had to be done. For the trial. For the curse.

You walked to the door, taking one last glance at your reflection.

Seventeen days. You could do this.

And with that, you left your room, the echo of your heels a reminder that today was another step closer to the end.

You paused at the entrance to the living room, your fingers lightly grazing the doorframe as you stepped inside.

Liam was already there, lounging on the couch, his gaze flicking up from whatever he had been doing. His eyes widened slightly as they took you in, a lazy smile spreading across his face when he noticed the full effect of your outfit.

For a brief moment, he didn’t say anything—he just looked at you, as if he were memorizing every curve, every angle of your body. It was as if you’d just walked into the room and shaken the very air around him with your presence. The way his eyes moved down from your face, tracing the black fitted top that clung to your figure like a second skin, to the tight skirt that hugged your hips perfectly, and the stiletto heels that made your legs look impossibly long—it was all enough to make your heart race just a little.

“Damn, baby,” Liam muttered, his voice low, appreciative. “You look... stunning.”

You flushed at the attention, a feeling that had become increasingly familiar in these past weeks. As his eyes continued their slow perusal, his lips twisted into a playful smirk. “I’m guessing... Vincent’s getting lucky today?”

“Something like that, even though it feels unfair to you...” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but something about the way he said it made a knot twist in your stomach.

Liam leaned forward, his eyes softening. He always knew how to make you feel like you were the only one in the room, like you were everything to him. “Look, I know it’s gotta be hard,” he said, his voice softening. “But we’ve talked about this. This is your trial. You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.” He stood up, walking toward you. “And I’ll support you, always. You know that, right?”

Your eyes dropped to the floor for a moment as a sudden wave of sadness hit you. It was always the same—every time. You knew he had accepted it, but it still felt so wrong. You hated the idea of going out there, sleeping with other men just for the sake of the trial. You hated that it was a necessity, as he said, to end the curse. And it felt like a terrible weight pressing on your chest, knowing that Liam, your boyfriend, had to sit with the knowledge that you were doing these things for this ridiculous, impossible trial.

“Liam, it’s not fair to you,” you murmured, your voice catching slightly. “I have to go sleep with all these other men... and you’re... you’re just my temporary boyfriend. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being... used.”

Liam's arms immediately enveloped you in a warm embrace, and for a moment, you let yourself close your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of his touch. The tension you had been holding onto began to ease as his hands gently ran up and down your back.

“It’s not like that,” he said, his voice full of understanding. “I told you before—this is a necessity. It’s not about me. It’s about you. And I’m not gonna let you go through this alone.”

You couldn’t help but feel the ache in your heart at his words. He really was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that it almost made the entire situation worse.

“And hey,” he added, breaking the heavy mood with a wink. “You’re basically an escort now, right? Just doing your job. Gotta tick off the box.” He laughed softly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

You chuckled weakly at his attempt, appreciating the humor, even if it felt a bit misplaced. Still, it helped, and you lifted your eyes to meet his.

Before you knew it, Liam had leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours. His face was filled with that gentle affection, that unmistakable adoration that always left you breathless. You could feel his warmth, his proximity, and just for a moment, you thought you could lose yourself in him entirely.

But there was one small problem.

You knew you looked perfect today—too perfect. The deep red lipstick you had carefully applied was bold, vibrant, and entirely kissable. But you couldn’t kiss him now. The lipstick would smudge, and the thought of it ruining your perfect look...

“Wait,” you whispered, pulling back slightly. “The lipstick.”

Liam froze, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He glanced down at your lips, then back up at your eyes. “Ah, so the kiss is off, huh?” he teased, his grin widening.

You nodded, but before he could make another comment, you reached up and brushed your fingertips across his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. You can kiss me somewhere else.”

Liam laughed, clearly enjoying the playful banter. Instead, he leaned down and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his lips warm and tender against your skin.

“That’s for luck,” he said quietly, as if the gesture carried more meaning than just a simple kiss.

You smiled faintly, a mix of emotions welling up inside you. You didn’t know how long you could keep lying to him, but you couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. Not now. Not yet.

“I’ll be back soon, and you might be the one to get lucky next,” you murmured, stepping back from his arms.

Liam nodded, his eyes darkening slightly with something you couldn’t quite place. “Looking forward to that, babe. And remember—this is all for the best. For both of us.”

You nodded, your heart heavy. As you turned and made your way toward the door, you paused for just a second, glancing back at him. His gaze was warm, loving, and you had to remind yourself that, for now, this was all part of the plan. The trial. The curse. Everything had to happen in its own time, even if it felt wrong.

With a final deep breath, you stepped out the door and into the world, ready to face Vincent.

Seventeen days. You could do this.

The click of your heels echoed through the hallway, each sharp sound a reminder that this was yet another step, another piece of this twisted game you’d been **** into. It wasn’t the kind of click that felt empowering, like when you were sure of yourself—no, it was the kind that carried the weight of inevitability. Your chest tightened with each stride, the familiar feeling of guilt creeping in with every footfall.

You should have felt different, right? Empowered, maybe, or at least, more certain. After all, you were doing what you had to do. This was the trial, the curse that had been hanging over your head for what felt like forever now. Seven men. You’d already gone through four. Now you were on your way to Vincent, the fifth. Just two more, and then... well, then the trial would be over, and it would be finished. The curse would finally be broken.

But somehow, even with that clear end in sight, it didn’t feel as simple as it should.

As you walked down the hall, your mind drifted. Was it really worth it? You tried to push that thought away, but it lingered, an annoying little thing that scratched at the edge of your consciousness.

Was it? Was it worth everything—your pride, your dignity, your sense of identity—just to be rid of the curse? To go back to what you were before, to undo all of this and erase the feminine form that had begun to feel so much more like you?

A deep breath caught in your throat. There was no denying that it was harder than you ever thought it would be. No matter how much you convinced yourself this was the only way, there was an ache in your chest every time you thought about what was coming.

Vincent.

The man you were about to sleep with. It wasn’t about him, not really. It was about fulfilling the task, about completing the trial. The kissable lips. The way he always seemed to look at you like you were something he could take without thought, without care. You knew what would happen when you got there—just like every other time. You’d go in, you’d play your role, and you’d tick the box.

But what happened after? What did that make you?

You had always been a man—hadn’t you? And somewhere deep down, you _still _were, even if you couldn’t see it anymore. Even if it felt like those pieces of yourself were slipping away, bit by bit, you still remembered who you were before the curse. You remembered the days when your reflection didn’t confuse you, when your body felt like yours—not a fragile, shapely thing that moved and looked like someone else.

Liam.

A soft sigh escaped your lips at the thought of him. You couldn’t deny that he had been there for you, unwavering, supportive, and yet... there was that small, gnawing feeling in your stomach. It was like a hole in your chest that had never really gone away.

You loved him, didn’t you? It wasn’t just the touch of a man you craved anymore, but the quiet comfort of knowing that someone cared. Someone saw you for who you were now, even though you were struggling to accept who that was yourself.

You bit your lip, the gloss catching the light as you brushed a hand across your mouth. It had been so long since you’d seen yourself as the person you used to be, the Lucas you used to be. And when you looked at Liam, you realized, for the first time, that you wanted him to see you. All of you. The feminine you, the one that walked down the halls in heels, the one that made him smile, the one that made him hold you close when you needed it the most.

But was that the feminine you? Was it the feminine version of you that was engineered by Aphrodite?

A soft shake of your head.

You needed to focus.

One foot in front of the other. That’s all it took to keep going. One step, then the next. You were almost there—almost to Vincent’s place. You didn’t have to think about it any more than you had to.

But in the back of your mind, that question kept stirring.

What happens next? How will I be after this is all over? Would you feel relief? Would you feel free? Or would you have these remnants plaguing you for the rest of your life?

Another step.

The door to exit was ahead now, just a few more feet. You had to do this. You didn’t have a choice.

The trial. The curse. The seven men. You had to do it.

But a part of you couldn’t help but wonder—could you really just go back? Could you really become who you used to be again?

With a deep breath, you reached for the door, turning the handle slowly, the sound of the lock clicking in your ear. You took a steadying breath and pushed it open.

There was no turning back now.