You know what? Yes. She was a total bitch at the end

Payback time. Let's make her skanky ass in constant need of sex, male approval and most over all, totally obsessed, in lust, and in love with you. This time you can reject her and see how she feels.

Your fingers hover over the sliders, a bitter twist forming on your lips. The model of Cosmo morphs as you begin making drastic changes, replacing her familiar features with something altogether different.

"Ooooh, getting a little spicy, aren't we?" Becky giggles, her animated eyes widening with delight as she watches you work. "Someone's got some unresolved issues!"

You adjust the appearance sliders first, distorting the face into something less attractive, cranking up the "dependency" and "desperation" meters until they flash red at maximum. Your hangover headache seems to pulse with each adjustment, but there's something darkly satisfying about this petty **** fantasy.

"Sexual neediness to maximum," you mutter, sliding that bar all the way to the right.

Becky claps her digital hands together. "That's the spirit, babe! Make her absolutely dickmatized!" She leans toward the screen, voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "And how about we add a dash of 'totally obsessed with you'? That's like, super popular with our users."

You tap the "Obsession Level" slider and drag it to its limit, watching as the 3D model's expression changes to one of **** longing. You add "craves male approval" and "cannot resist you specifically" from the special attributes menu.

"Ten seconds!" Becky announces, bouncing excitedly. "Ready to lock in your perfect little **** fantasy?"

The pink "LOCK IN" button pulses more insistently now. Without hesitation, you press it firmly with your thumb.

A bright flash emanates from the phone, momentarily blinding you. The device grows hot—uncomfortably so—and you instinctively drop it. It clatters to the floor, spinning under your bedside table.

Then it hits you.

A wave of heat erupts from your core, rippling outward through every nerve ending. You gasp, staggering backward until your legs hit the bed. Your vision swims, reality distorting like a funhouse mirror.

"What the fuck?" you manage to gasp before your voice catches, throat constricting strangely.

The room spins as you collapse onto the mattress. Your skin tingles everywhere, a thousand pinpricks of sensation overwhelming you. Beneath your t-shirt, your chest tightens, then begins to swell, flesh redistributing itself in impossible ways. You claw at the sheets, trying to ground yourself as your waist cinches inward, hips simultaneously widening.

Between your legs, an alarming sensation—a hollowing, a transformation so intimate and profound you can't even process it. Your boxers grow looser in front but tighter around newly formed curves.

Your hair lengthens, tickling your shoulders, then your mid-back, the color lightening before your very eyes. Your face feels like melting wax, features shifting subtly but definitively.

As suddenly as it began, the transformation subsides, leaving you panting on the bed, disoriented and changed.

"Congratulations!" Becky's voice comes from the phone, still under the table. "You've successfully created your perfect girlfriend! And guess what? It's YOU!"