Rewriting Francesca

Zack sat on the couch, the remote resting heavily in his hand. He glanced toward the kitchen, where Francesca was humming softly as she stirred the adobo. She looked incredible—young, vibrant, and undeniably attractive. But there was still something holding her back. Her Catholic faith, her virginity, her modest demeanour. Zack had rewritten her reality, but he hadn’t gone far enough. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it right.

He selected Reality Rewrite again, the blue light from the remote casting an eerie glow across the room. This time, he aimed it at Francesca and began speaking her new reality into existence.

“Francesca Cruz,” he said, his voice steady now, “you are no longer a devout Catholic. You’ve left your faith behind, embracing a more carefree and adventurous lifestyle. You resent your mother for raising you so strictly in the Philippines, and as soon as you moved to New Zealand, you rebelled. You’re confident, flirtatious, and unapologetically sexual. Your body has changed—your breasts are larger, your ass is rounder, and you take pride in your appearance. You and Zack have been dating for two years, and you’re no longer a virgin. You’re eager to explore your sexuality with him.”

The blue light enveloped Francesca, and Zack watched as her body began to shift. Her tank top tightened as her breasts swelled, pushing against the fabric until it looked like it might tear. Her hips flared out, her ass becoming rounder and more pronounced. She gasped, her hand flying to her chest as she felt the changes.

“What… what’s happening?” she murmured, her voice trembling. But before she could fully process what was going on, the remote rewrote her memories, her personality, everything that made her who she was.

When the light faded, Francesca blinked, her eyes focusing on Zack. She smiled—a warm, inviting smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Hey, babe,” she said, her voice sultry now. “What are you doing over there? Come here.”

Zack stood up, his heart pounding as he walked over to her. She looked even more stunning now, her body perfectly proportioned, her confidence radiating from every pore. He couldn’t help but admire her new bio, which flashed in his mind as if the remote had implanted it there:

Name: Francesca Cruz

Age: 24

Height: 165 cm

Weight: 58 kg

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Black (long, wavy)

Bust: 95 cm (D-cup)

Waist: 66 cm

Hips: 96 cm

Ethnicity: Filipino

Religion: None (formerly Catholic)

Personality: Confident, flirtatious, rebellious

Relationship Status: Dating Zack for two years

Francesca reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. “You’re so tense,” she said, her voice dripping with concern. “Let me help you relax.”

Zack’s breath hitched as Francesca leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “How about an entrée before dinner?” she whispered, her hand sliding down his chest to his waistband.

Zack’s mind raced, but his body wasn’t listening. He could feel the heat pooling in his groin, his cock stiffening against his jeans. Francesca dropped to her knees, her hands working to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants. Zack’s breath came in short, shallow gasps as she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around him in a warm, wet embrace.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his hands tangling in her hair. Francesca looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire, as she bobbed her head, taking him deeper. Zack’s knees buckled, his mind going blank as pleasure coursed through him. He could feel himself getting closer, his body tensing as he approached the edge.

Francesca pulled back slightly, her tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. “You taste so good,” she murmured, her voice husky. “I want all of you.”

Zack couldn’t hold back any longer. With a low groan, he came, his release spilling into her mouth. Francesca swallowed every drop, her eyes never leaving his. When she finally pulled away, she licked her lips, a satisfied smile playing on her face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, standing up and brushing off her knees. “But I think we both needed that, huh?”

Zack nodded, his mind still reeling from what had just happened. Francesca turned back to the stove, humming softly as she stirred the adobo. Zack watched her for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. She looked so different now—so confident, so sexual. But there was still a part of her that felt familiar, a part that cared deeply about him.

Just then, the front door opened, and Michaela walked in, her arms full of groceries. She froze in the doorway, her eyes widening as she took in the scene: Francesca wiping her mouth, Zack hastily pulling up his pants, and the unmistakable tension in the air.

“Ew, gross!” Michaela exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “Can you two not? Get a room!”

Francesca laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Zack’s spine. “Relax, Mika,” she said, her voice teasing. “It’s not like you’ve never walked in on us before.”

Michaela rolled her eyes, setting the groceries down on the counter. “Yeah, but I don’t need to see that right before dinner. Seriously, you guys are worse than rabbits.”

Zack chuckled, trying to play it cool, but his mind was already racing. If only Michaela were more like her sister, he thought, glancing at the remote in his hand. Then things would be perfect.

And then it hit him. He could make it a reality. He could rewrite Michaela just like he’d rewritten Francesca. The possibilities were endless, and the power was intoxicating.