Search for loose clothes to hide changes, feeling dysphoria as David orders food.

12:45 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London

You pad down the hallway toward Scott's—your—bedroom, bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. Each step sends unfamiliar sensations rippling through your body; the sway of your hips feels alien, the absence between your thighs a constant reminder of what you've lost. Your loose t-shirt hangs differently across your chest, the fabric catching on the new curves of your breasts with every movement.

"I'll order something," David calls after you, his voice carrying an undertone you can't quite place. "Thai okay? Or would you prefer something else?"

"Thai is fine," you answer, your melodic voice still startling to your ears. You push open the bedroom door, surveying the familiar space with unfamiliar eyes. Your dresser and closet are filled with Scott's clothes—button-ups for work, jeans, t-shirts, hoodies—all suddenly too large for your transformed frame.

You rifle through the dresser drawers, pulling out a faded university hoodie that was always oversized even on your male body. The soft fabric slides against your more sensitive skin as you pull it over your head, enveloping yourself in its familiar scent. The sleeves hang past your fingertips, the hem dropping to mid-thigh. The baggy silhouette obscures the curves of your new body, providing a small comfort against the rising tide of dysphoria coursing through you.

"This isn't real," you whisper to yourself, adjusting your glasses with slender fingers that still feel like they belong to someone else. "This isn't my body." But the reflection in the mirror argues otherwise—the face looking back at you unmistakably feminine despite the oversized clothing. Your raven hair with its striking silver highlights frames a delicate face that matches exactly what you'd designed in that damned app.

You pull on a pair of drawstring sweatpants, cinching them tight at your narrower waist. They pool around your ankles, too long for your reduced height. The combination looks ridiculous—drowning in fabric—but there's something comforting in the excess material, as if you could hide your transformation beneath layers of cotton.

"Food will be here in thirty," David says, appearing in the doorway. His eyes travel over your baggy ensemble, expression softening. "Found something that works?"

"Hardly," you reply, tugging at the oversized clothes. "But it's better than nothing until I figure this out."

David leans against the doorframe, his banker's confidence momentarily cracking. "Look, Scott—Sophie—whatever you want me to call you... this is insane, but we'll sort it out. I'm here for you."

Something in his tone makes your new body respond with an involuntary flutter in your stomach. You push the sensation away, focusing instead on rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie to free your hands.

"Thanks," you manage, trying to ignore how your heightened senses catch the notes of his cologne. "I just need to think."

The phone pulses from where you've set it on the nightstand, Becky's avatar winking from the screen. You studiously ignore it, even as the notification light blinks more insistently.

13:15 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London