Try to reassure Derek and suggest checking if there's any way to see how long the transformation will last.

Westfield Galleria Food Court, Crescent Bay, at 2:56 PM on Saturday June 14th, 2025.

You step forward, hands raised in what you hope is a calming gesture. "Hey, just breathe, okay? We'll figure this out. There's gotta be some info about how long this lasts."

Derek's breathing is rapid and shallow, her massive chest heaving with each breath in a way that's frankly distracting. She nods jerkily, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. "Yeah, yeah okay. Fuck. This is insane."

Tyler snaps out of his stunned staring and moves toward the machine. "I'll check inside. Maybe there's like a timer or receipt or something." He approaches the still-open door cautiously, peering into the dimly lit interior.

Marcus hasn't stopped staring at Derek's transformed body. "Dude—I mean, girl—I mean... what do we even call you now? Derek sounds weird as hell when you look like that."

Derek shoots him a glare, though the effect is somewhat undermined by the way her lips form a natural pout. "It's still my fucking name, Marcus."

"Yeah but like... you got tits the size of my head," Marcus argues, gesturing vaguely at her chest. "And that ass. We can't just keep calling you Derek when you're built like—"

"Guys," Tyler calls from the machine's entrance. He's leaning inside, squinting at something. "There's a screen in here. It's got numbers on it."

Evan moves closer. "What kind of numbers?"

"Like a countdown or something. Says seventy-one hours, fifty-eight minutes..." Tyler reaches toward the screen to get a better look, his hand brushing against the glowing green START button.

The machine immediately hums to life again.

"Oh SHIT—" Tyler tries to jerk backward, but the door slides shut with mechanical precision, sealing him inside before he can escape. The pneumatic locks engage with a decisive click.

"TYLER!" Evan shouts, rushing forward and pounding on the tinted glass. "Tyler, get out!"

The neon lights begin their rapid cycling again—pink, violet, electric blue. The hum rises in pitch, vibrating through the floor. Inside the machine, you can see Tyler's silhouette through the glowing interior, his hands pressed against the glass, mouth open in what might be a yell you can't hear.

Derek stumbles forward on unsteady legs, her hand outstretched. "No no no, we gotta stop it!" But even as she moves, another visible shiver runs through her body, making her gasp and press her thighs together.

The light flares white-hot, forcing all of you to look away. Then—silence. The glow fades. The door clicks and begins to slide open.

Marcus lets out a breathless laugh. "Holy fuck. Tyler's gonna be a chick too."

The door opens fully, revealing the figure inside.