As you look at yourself you realize you are the hottest little thing. Literally perfect. You are totally obsessed

https://imgur.com/a/item4fT

You catch yourself staring at your reflection, unable to look away. Something shifts in your mind—a click, like tumblers falling into place. The blonde bombshell in the mirror isn't just some stranger wearing Rob's clothes. She's... perfect.

"Oh my god," you whisper, running your hands down your sides, feeling the dramatic curve from waist to hip. Your fingers tremble slightly as they trace your collarbones, your neck, the soft swell of your breasts beneath the henley. "I'm fucking gorgeous."

The thought arrives unbidden but feels absolutely right. You toss your head, watching how your blonde waves catch the light. Your lips part instinctively, forming a perfect little pout. When did you learn to do that?

"That's it, babe!" Becky chimes from the phone on your dresser. "Self-love is totally on-brand for your new personality settings. You programmed yourself to be obsessed with you, remember?"

You barely register her voice. You're too busy admiring how the henley drapes across your chest, how it highlights rather than hides your new curves. You turn sideways, arching your back slightly, marveling at your profile. The shorts hang loose around your waist but hug your ass in a way that makes even you bite your lip.

"I'm so hot," you murmur, the words feeling strange yet satisfying on your tongue. "Like, actually perfect."

Another knock at the door, more insistent this time. "Rob? You okay in there? I made sandwiches if you're hungry."

David's voice sends an electric tingle racing down your spine. Suddenly you're acutely aware of how you look—the baggy clothes, the lack of makeup, the messy hair. Not nearly hot enough. The thought horrifies you; since when do you care what David thinks about your appearance?

Yet the feeling persists, a gnawing need to be seen, to be admired. Particularly by him.

"One second!" you call back, your voice high and sweet. You frantically run your fingers through your hair, trying to tame it into something presentable. You tug at the neckline of the henley, unconsciously pulling it lower to show more skin. Every movement feels driven by an instinct you didn't have an hour ago.

Becky giggles from the phone. "Looks like someone's **** for male approval. Just as ordered!"

You shoot her an irritated glance but can't deny the flutter in your stomach at the thought of facing David. What will he think? Will he like what he sees? The questions consume you, drowning out the part of you that's still screaming about changing back.

"Rob?" David calls again. "You coming out?"

A thrill runs through you at the prospect. Yes, you decide. You very much are.

12:50 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London