Set it to 2 minutes and knock on her door to watch in person

You push Kimmy's head away gently, your cock slipping from between her lips with a wet sound. She pouts but stays kneeling, watching you with eager anticipation as you adjust the slider on your phone's screen to the two-minute mark. The interface confirms your selection with a soft chime.

"Transformation duration: 120 seconds," the app displays in hot pink text. "Ready to generate?"

You tap the button. "Generate & Apply to Reality."

The screen pulses, processing. A progress bar appears: "Generating transformation sequence... Targeting reality anchor... Preparing subject consciousness integration..."

Candy's message pops up immediately: "OMG you're really gonna watch it happen RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER!! This is gonna be SO intense! Go knock on her door NOW before it starts! You've got like 30 seconds! RUN!! "

You're already moving, pulling up your pants hastily and fastening them as you head for the door. Behind you, Kimmy calls out, "Wait! Where are you going? Are you coming back?"

"Stay here," you tell her without looking back. "I'll be right back."

You step into the hallway, the fluorescent lights harsh after Kimmy's dim apartment. Your heart is pounding as you cross the corridor to apartment 3C. Mrs. Rodriguez's door. The woman who helped you carry groceries once when your bags split. The retired nurse who always has butterscotch candies and asks about your mother.

You raise your fist and knock.

There's movement inside, the shuffle of slippers on linoleum. The peephole darkens as someone looks through it. A pause. Then the sound of a chain being unlatched, a deadbolt turning.

The door opens to reveal Maria Rodriguez in a threadbare purple bathrobe, her gray hair in curlers, reading glasses perched on her nose. She looks confused and concerned to see you at this hour.

"Marcus? Mijo, what's wrong? Is everything okay?" Her accent is thick, her English careful. "It's so late..."

Your phone vibrates in your hand. You glance down. The app displays: "TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE BEGINNING IN 5... 4... 3..."

"I just... I wanted to check on you," you hear yourself say, the words hollow.

Mrs. Rodriguez's expression softens with concern. "Check on me? At midnight? Are you feeling alright? You look—"

Her words cut off abruptly. Her eyes go unfocused, glassy. Her body goes rigid, hands frozen on the doorframe.

The transformation has begun.

Your phone's screen shows a video feed - somehow displaying Mrs. Rodriguez from multiple angles simultaneously, impossible camera perspectives showing her from all sides. A timer counts down: 01:59... 01:58... 01:57...

Mrs. Rodriguez's body begins to change.

Her body jerks once, twice, like she's received an electric shock. You **** yourself to keep looking at her face, at those confused brown eyes that are still aware, still human.

"Marcus?" Her voice cracks, frightened now. "What's happening to me? I can't... I can't move..."

The timer on your phone reads 01:52. Her gray hair begins to darken at the roots, deep brown spreading through the gray like spilled ink. The curlers tumble from her head one by one, clattering to the floor as her hair lengthens, thickening and growing lustrous.

"Please..." Mrs. Rodriguez's voice is thin with terror. "Something's wrong... I feel... strange..."

Her face ripples. You watch as the lines around her eyes smooth out, decades of life erasing themselves. Her skin tightens, age spots fading, wrinkles disappearing. Her jawline firms up, jowls vanishing as if they never existed.

01:37.

She's shrinking. Her bathrobe hangs looser as her body compacts, hunched shoulders straightening, spine extending upward. You hear the crack and pop of joints realigning. Her expression shifts between confusion and something approaching panic.

"I... I don't..." Her voice is changing, becoming higher, lighter. "Who... what am I..."

You try to maintain eye contact but your gaze drops involuntarily as her body transforms beneath the bathrobe. Her breasts swell, pushing against the fabric, growing larger and rounder until the robe's belt strains to contain them. Her waist cinches inward dramatically, her hips flaring wide.

01:14.

Her hair has turned platinum blonde, long extensions cascading past her shoulders. Her face is completely different now - full lips, high cheekbones, button nose. Heavy makeup materializes on her skin: thick false lashes, winged eyeliner, glossy pink lips.

"I'm... Mari?" The words come out uncertain, questioning. Her eyes are still brown but vacant now, the intelligence draining away. "I'm Mari Rodriguez... I'm... I live here with... no wait, I lived somewhere else... didn't I? Where did I...?"

00:47.

The bathrobe shimmers and transforms, becoming a tight pink crop top and jean shorts. Her body is completely changed now - tall, stacked, pornographic proportions barely contained by the skimpy clothing. Stiletto heels materialize on her feet.

"Oh my god..." Her voice is breathy, ditzy now. The fear is fading from her eyes, replaced by empty confusion. "Why am I like, talking to some guy at my door? Do I know you? You're kinda hot though..."

00:18.

You watch the last fragments of Mrs. Rodriguez disappear from those eyes. The memories rewriting themselves, seventy years of life erasing and replacing with fabricated ones.

"Wait!" A flash of lucidity, her hand reaching out to grip the doorframe. "I'm a nurse! I worked at... at..." The memory dissolves before she can grasp it. "No, I'm an influencer. I do OnlyFans with my bestie Kimmy! We're like, so close! Why was I thinking about being old? That's so weird!"

00:00.

The transformation completes. Mari Rodriguez blinks at you, tilting her head with a vapid smile.

"Hi! Do you live in this building? I'm Mari! Oh my god, are you Kimmy's friend? She like, totally mentioned you!"