Try to find the app on your phone to see if you can reverse the transformation

11:45 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London

Your trembling fingers reach for the phone under the table, the weight of your new breasts shifting as you bend down. The screen still glows that eerie pink, and there's Becky, twirling her hair with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Looking for an undo button, babe? That's adorable," she giggles, popping imaginary gum. "You can't put toothpaste back in the tube, you know?"

David stands frozen, coffee mug still suspended halfway to his lips. "Jesus Christ," he whispers, eyes wide. "Alex... what the fuck did you just do?"

"I didn't—I mean—" Your voice catches you off guard, melodic and higher pitched. You swipe frantically through the app's interface, looking for settings, preferences, anything resembling a reversal option.

Becky's avatar enlarges, filling the screen. "Uh-uh-uh," she wags a perfectly manicured finger. "That's not how this works, sweetie. You designed yourself. You committed. You're Lexi now."

"Lexi?" David repeats, finally lowering his mug to the counter with a shaky hand.

"I am not—" you begin, but Becky interrupts.

"Show him your new stats!" The screen shifts to display your profile, showing measurements, appearance details, and all those little compulsions you unwittingly programmed in.

You quickly pull the phone to your chest, but not before David catches a glimpse. His expression shifts subtly—shock giving way to something more complex.

"You're supposed to be..." He pauses, studying your new appearance. "You said you need to...every eight hours?" There's a strange note in his voice.

"It's not real," you insist, but your body betrays you. A warm tingling spreads between your thighs, and you press them together instinctively. The sensation is alien yet familiar, a hollow need where something solid used to be.

"Just tell me what's going on," David says, taking a step closer. "One minute you're my flatmate Alex, and the next you're..." His eyes travel down your transformed body, lingering on the swell of your breasts beneath your now ill-fitting t-shirt.

You turn your attention back to the phone. No matter what menu you tap, what button you press, there's no option to reverse anything. The settings page only shows personalization choices—background colors, notification sounds, no "return to being a man" button anywhere.

"This can't be happening," you whisper, but the weight of your new breasts, the emptiness between your legs, and the cascade of blonde hair falling over your shoulders all insist otherwise.

Becky reappears, beaming. "First day as a girl! So exciting! You should totally check out your new wardrobe. Alex's clothes won't fit that bodacious bod, but don't worry—the app took care of everything."

"What?" You look up.

David clears his throat. "She—it—whatever, is right. There's a delivery box by the door. Came this morning while you were sleeping off last night. I thought you'd ordered something online."

12:05 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London