Oh. My. God. Pt. 2

You finished rinsing out your mouth and set your toothbrush down, watching Liam as he did the same, still catching his reflection in the mirror every few seconds with that same mix of disbelief and mild horror.

“Well,” you said, turning to him, “might as well shower and freshen up before we start making calls. You coming?”

Liam squinted at you like you’d just spoken in a language he didn’t understand. “Excuse me?”

You rolled your eyes. “I said, do you wanna shower together?”

His eyes narrowed further, suspicion thick in his voice. “Are you making fun of me? Because if this is some taunt about that time we showered together like a normal couple, I swear to—”

“Oh my God, shut up.” You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m not teasing you, dumbass. I’m saying, I know your dramatic ass is not gonna wanna be alone with your thoughts in there.”

Liam pursed his lips like he wanted to argue, but the logic was solid, and he knew it. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he muttered, “Fine.”

You both stripped down, and for all his big talk, the second Liam’s boxers hit the floor, he immediately turned away from you, arms covering his chest even though there wasn’t much there to cover.

You bit your lip, holding back a smirk.

Still, you didn’t say anything, just turned the water on and stepped in first, letting the hot spray hit your back before moving aside for him to follow. He hesitated, exhaling sharply through his nose like he needed to mentally prepare himself for whatever this was about to be, before stepping into the cramped space with you.

And he was so embarrassed.

You could feel it radiating off of him.

He kept his arms close to his sides, his shoulders slightly hunched, like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. His gaze stayed fixed firmly on the showerhead, and every time your bodies accidentally brushed—because, let’s be real, this shower was not built for two people—he practically flinched.

“Dude,” you finally said, reaching up to tilt his chin toward you. “Breathe. We’re in this together, alright?”

He met your eyes, some of that tension in his jaw loosening just slightly. “Yeah... okay.”

You nodded, satisfied, and finally let your gaze wander to his body, properly taking it in.

It was so weird.

Because this? This was you, just a few months ago. Before your curves had really come in, before your body had fully settled into itself.

His chest was still mostly flat, but there was definitely some soft tissue there. His waist had narrowed a bit, and his hips had widened just enough to be noticeable. His face was softer, his collarbones a little more prominent. It was like looking at a slightly altered mirror image of your own transformation process, just frozen at an earlier stage.

Liam finally looked down at himself, taking in the changes for what felt like the first time, and—

“Oh my God,” he breathed, grabbing his chest. “I have tits.”

You almost snorted, but held it together.

His fingers prodded at the soft swell of his chest, brows furrowed in concentration like he was trying to assess exactly how much tit he had. “What size do you think these are?”

You tilted your head, giving him an exaggerated once-over. “Definitely A-cup. But like… almost a B.”

Liam immediately made a face, lips pressing together in something caught between contemplation and dismay. “That’s so lame. If I’m gonna be cursed with tits, I should at least get some decent ones.”

Now you did snort. “Yeah, yeah, you’re so hard done by. C’mon, get over yourself, grab the shampoo.”

Liam grumbled but did as he was told, and with minimal bickering, you both got through the rest of the shower in mostly comfortable silence, even if Liam still looked mildly offended every time his own body reminded him of its new shape.

Once you were both clean and sufficiently de-steamed, you grabbed towels and stepped out, shaking some of the excess water from your hair. Liam immediately wrapped his towel around his waist, like he always had, and you raised a brow.

“You know, girls wrap it under their arms.” You gestured to the way you had yours tucked just above your chest. “Like this.”

Liam scoffed. “This is temporary, I’m not gonna start changing my towel habits now.” Then, smirking, he struck a very exaggerated pose, tossing his damp hair over his shoulder like a model. “Besides, why wouldn’t I wanna flaunt these almost B-cup tits, huh?”

You groaned. “I regret everything.”

Grabbing his hand, you tugged him out of the bathroom, back toward the bedroom. “Come on, Miss Almost-B, let’s get you dressed before you start feeling yourself too much.”

Liam just chuckled, letting you pull him along, but as you led him back toward the closet, you could feel his fingers still lightly prodding at his own chest, like he was still trying to process that this was real.

And yeah. This was gonna be very interesting.

Liam sat on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in his towel, staring blankly at the floor like his soul had temporarily left his body. You, however, were already rummaging through your dresser, pulling open drawers with practiced ease as you searched for something that wouldn’t make this morning even more of a disaster than it already was.

“So, uh,” you started, tossing a glance over your shoulder, “what exactly are you planning on wearing?”

Liam barely moved. “My clothes.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and I hate to be the one to break this to you, but boxers and a vagina? Not the best combo.”

That got him to look up, a deep frown settling between his brows. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with boxers?”

You snorted. “Oh, nothing, if you like feeling like you’ve got a parachute between your legs. Look, I don’t make the rules, okay? I tried to keep my boxers when this whole thing happened to me, and it was a nightmare. Bunched up in all the wrong places, didn’t hold anything where it should, it was just… no.” You turned back to your drawer and fished out a pair of underwear before tossing them onto the bed beside him. “You’re gonna want these.”

Liam blinked down at them. The simple black panties sat there, looking completely unassuming, yet the sheer offense on his face made it seem like you’d just handed him a live grenade.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Dead serious.” You sat beside him, giving him a knowing look. “And don’t even try to argue with me, ‘cause you felt it before. It’s not comfortable. These? They actually fit the anatomy. And trust me, once you get used to them, they’re pretty nice.”

Liam exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring at the offending fabric like it had personally wronged him. But then, after a long, grudging pause, he snatched them up with an exaggerated groan.

“I hate this,” he muttered, standing up and slipping them on beneath his towel.

“I know,” you said, far too smugly.

Once the panties were in place, he rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, shifting a little like he was expecting them to suddenly betray him. Then, with a heavy sigh, he sat back down, grumbling, “Well. That sucked.”

“Oh, you’re so dramatic.” You smirked before getting up to rifle through your drawers again. “Alright, next thing.”

Liam groaned, flopping onto the bed. “Oh my God, what now?”

You found what you were looking for and pulled it out with a triumphant hum. “Here.” You turned, holding up a simple, lightly padded bra. “You’re gonna need this.”

Liam shot upright. “No. Absolutely not.”

You just grinned, undeterred. “Listen, I know you technically don’t need it yet, but trust me, shirts are gonna feel so weird. Especially ‘cause of your nipples.”

“My—” Liam blinked, then made an expression that suggested he had just thought about his own nipples a little too hard. “Okay, that was too much information.”

“You asked.” You tossed the bra at him, but he let it land beside him like he was afraid touching it might physically wound him.

“You are not making me wear a bra,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Liam.”

“No.”

“Liam.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile. “I might be enjoying this a little, yes.”

“You asshole.”

You shrugged. “Hey, at least I’m helping you avoid problems before they happen.”

Liam looked at the bra again, then back at you, his jaw working like he was debating whether or not it was worth dying on this hill. He clearly wanted to argue, but the way his lips pressed together told you that—deep down—he knew you had a point.

Finally, with the deepest, heaviest sigh, he snatched it up. “You owe me for this.”

You just grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.”

Liam turned it over in his hands, eyes flicking from one clasp to another. “How the hell do you even put this on?”

You took pity on him and scooted closer. “Here, turn around, I’ll do it for you.”

Reluctantly, he did, and with quick, practiced hands, you adjusted the straps and fastened the hooks. When he turned back around, his face was so conflicted, like he couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

You smirked. “How’s it feel?”

He huffed. “Weird.” He gave his chest an experimental jiggle, his brows pulling together when he felt the resistance. “Really weird.”

You chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”

Liam exhaled, then turned toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, assessing himself. He placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head like he was inspecting a stranger’s body rather than his own.

Then, with zero hesitation, he struck a ridiculously exaggerated pose, one hand flipping his hair while the other settled confidently on his hip. “Well, at least I look hot.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Oh my God.”

Liam grinned at you through the mirror. “Nah, for real, I think I could get used to this. Maybe I’ll start an OnlyFans.”

You chucked a pillow at him. “Shut up and put on a shirt.”

And with that, you turned back to the dresser, ready to finish this disaster of a morning.

Liam stood in front of his closet, arms crossed as he scanned his usual selection of t-shirts and hoodies. Even though his body had changed overnight, his brain was clearly still running on the same default settings—meaning he was about to throw on the first oversized tee he found and pretend like everything was normal.

You, however, weren’t going to let him get away with that.

“Why aren’t you picking something from my clothes?” you asked, watching him sift through his usual stack.

Liam barely looked at you. “Because this is temporary, alright? I’m not a girl, I don’t think like a girl, so stop trying to get a kick out of this.”

You placed a hand on your hip, tilting your head. “I’m not trying to get a kick out of it.” (Total lie.) “I’m just saying, my clothes would fit you better right now. They’d be more comfortable.”

Liam scoffed, finally turning to face you with an exasperated expression. “There is no way I’m wearing something girly. That’s just—weird.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist, and before you even thought about it, your expression flattened. “Weird?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you’re not gonna catch me in a crop top, alright?”

Oh, so that’s how it is.

You didn’t even have to think before slipping into an outraged expression, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “Wow. Wow, I cannot believe this.”

Liam frowned. “What?”

“You’re such a misogynist.” You shook your head, eyes full of pure disappointment.

His face immediately twisted in confusion. “What?”

You huffed, arms crossing. “I should’ve known. Maybe this is why you got cursed.”

His jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

You gestured toward him like it was obvious. “I mean, think about it! Maybe Aphrodite took one look at you and thought, ‘Wow, this guy is such a misogynist, he doesn’t even want to wear comfy clothes just because they’re meant for girls. Let’s fix that.’” You gave a long, thoughtful sigh. “Honestly? Makes a lot of sense.”

Liam stared at you, the gears in his head turning rapidly. “Okay, hold on—”

But you weren’t done.

“No, no, it’s fine, Liam. I get it. You think girl clothes are weird. You think being a girl is weird.” You let your voice grow even more offended, just enough to guilt-trip him further. “Damn, maybe you deserved to get cursed. Maybe this is a lesson for you.”

Liam’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. His eyes flicked back to his closet, then to the clothes on your side of the room, then back to you, clearly working through the implications.

And that was exactly what you wanted.

You stepped closer, pressing on before he could gather enough resistance. “Listen. Every guy wonders what it’s like to be a girl.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

Liam hesitated. Just for a second.

And that second was all you needed.

“Aha!” You pointed at him triumphantly. “See? You have wondered.”

Liam’s lips pressed into a firm line. “I guess—”

“Great! Then this is your chance to find out.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “And we know it’s gonna be temporary, okay? So what’s the harm?”

Liam exhaled, shoulders sagging slightly. He looked at his closet again, then at you, then at the undeniable logic you’d just presented.

Finally, with the longest, most **** sigh, he muttered, “Fine.”

You beamed.

Game. Set. Match.

Still wrapped snugly in your towel, you stood before your closet with the giddy determination of a woman on a mission. Liam sat begrudgingly on the edge of his bed, arms crossed over his freshly bra-clad chest, watching you with the exhausted expression of someone who had already lost the battle but was still pretending they had a say in the war.

"Okay, let’s see," you murmured to yourself, flicking through hangers. "Something comfortable, something cute, something that’ll keep you from whining all day—ah!" You yanked out a soft pink sundress and twirled to show him. "How about this?"

Liam gave you a look. "Yeah, I don’t think so."

You dramatically sighed, shoving it back. "Fine. What about…ooh!" You pulled out a flowy off-shoulder blouse paired with a high-waisted skirt and held them up with a hopeful grin.

Liam’s expression didn’t change. "Not happening."

You rolled your eyes, spinning back to your options. "God, you’re worse than me when I was picking outfits 5 months ago," you muttered, shuffling through clothes. Then, your fingers found the perfect choice, and you pulled it free with a victorious smirk.

A ribbed white crop top and a pair of snug, form-fitting jeans. Simple. Stylish. Nothing too outrageous—but still undeniably feminine.

You turned to him, holding them up. "Alright, this is the one."

Liam groaned, tilting his head back in resignation. "Do I have to wear a crop top?"

"You do," you said firmly, tossing them onto his bed. "And you’re going to rock it."

Liam ran a hand down his face, but you could see the gears turning in his head. Compared to the other options you’d thrown at him, this was clearly the least offensive. He muttered something under his breath, then stood up with a sigh, grabbing the clothes. "I swear, if you make one joke about my stomach being out—"

You threw your hands up innocently. "I would never." (Total lie.)

Liam shot you one last untrusting glance before retreating to his side of the room, grumbling as he started pulling off his towel.

With a smug little grin, you turned back to your own wardrobe. If Liam was going to wear something cute, it only felt right to match with him. Not identically, of course—you weren’t twins, after all. But something with the same vibe. The same energy.

Your fingers skimmed over fabrics until they landed on a cropped, fitted tank in a soft cream color, hugging just enough to show off your curves. You paired it with your own high-waisted jeans—ripped at the knees, unlike Liam’s, but still close enough to match the casual aesthetic.

And, of course, the lingerie underneath had to be just right.

Your lips curled as you slipped out of your towel and reached for the delicate lace of your chosen set. A sheer, blush-pink bra, lined with soft floral embroidery, paired with a matching thong that sat perfectly against your hips. Pretty, delicate, a little flirty. Even if Liam wasn’t going to see it, you still liked knowing it was there.

As you pulled on your top and adjusted the straps, you glanced toward Liam, who was in the process of tugging his jeans up his legs. The sight almost made you laugh—his expression was one of deep, miserable concentration, like he was stepping into some kind of alien technology.

"Comfy?" you teased, grinning.

Liam exhaled sharply through his nose. "No comment."

You finished adjusting your outfit and turned to face him just as he yanked the crop top down over his torso, fidgeting uncomfortably with the hem. The shirt hugged his frame better than either of you expected—his shoulders were still broader than yours, but the slightly cinched waist and subtle curve to his hips made it sit in a way that was…undeniably cute.

Liam caught your stare and immediately scowled. "Don’t."

You raised your hands in mock surrender. "Didn’t say anything." (But you thought it.)

Liam glanced down at himself, adjusting the crop top one last time before muttering, "God, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this."

You beamed. "You look great!"

Liam groaned, running a hand through his now-longer hair. "Anyway—I need caffeine if I’m gonna survive this day." He turned to make his grand exit, but you perked up with one last idea before he could escape.

"Wait! Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"NOPE." Liam didn’t even pause as he yanked open the door. "I’m making coffee. Bye."

You giggled as he disappeared, shaking your head in amusement. "Coward."

Still smiling, you turned toward the bathroom, ready to do your own makeup.