You shoot yourself quickly

Afraid the personality of being an Asian maid will return in ****, you quickly think of a few important characteristics that you hope will help you return to your former self:

You are not Mikasa the Asian maid. You don't want to be very tidy and you don't get turned on by cleaning. You want to be caucasian, independent, to take initiative and have agency. You like women that are slutty bro cuties that have no hang-ups on sex, that like hanging around with guys, because most of your positive observations and interactions with women have been with media of models and porn stars. ...That sounds pretty pathetic, but it's probably what you'd think before you became a stereotypical submissive maid.

Oh shit, the voice might be returning! That'll do! You think to yourself and quickly pull the trigger and close your eyes.

*ZAP*

You shift your weight to keep your balance and let the weird numbness creep out of your body, keeping your eyes closed until the stars disappear from the inside of your eyelids. Your initial impression is that you feel... more clothes on your body. Though something seems to be digging into your shoulders and your sides, and your underwear is definitely hugging close. When you move your head, you feel the tingling of long hair on your neck and begin to suspect a few things. You bite your lower lip and find plenty to chew on as you finally find the courage to open your eyes and glance at a mirror.

That's definitely a female face, you think to yourself and move closer to give yourself a better look, while recalling what you thought about as you pulled the trigger. Hmm, you might have forgotten to say much about changing your gender. You pat your chest and confirm the existence of soft flesh in a bra, and you slide a hand over your short's crotch and confirm that it feels like there's nothing there where a guy would have a dick. To be sure, you unbutton your shorts and pull them down, and find you're wearing a white embroidered thong. You turn around and give your body a look over your shoulder.

You admit that you are pretty gorgeous, and you begin to mentally check if there's anything you need to worry about. Master, no - oh, thank God - Steve is your... roommate. You think you two are friendly and you talk a lot about dude things like bikes, cars, sports and quite a bit about fucking chicks. It seems he has been trying to ask you for advice more than bragging about his escapades, but you have apparently been teasing him by accusing him of what he was writing between the lines to begin with, and then more honest debates about personal preferences and tips when you've had a few drinks.

You chuckle in your feminine voice at the sparring relationship you two have, as you decide to check if your room have changed. You leave the living room mirror and make your way to your door. As you enter, you realize it seems to be about the same size, though with different furniture and more feminine items on display than before. There's a full body mirror and your office desk has been replaced with a vanity desk. Your stationary gaming computer is now a white laptop with heart stickers behind the screen. You pout at the loss of entertainment, but you feel your heart isn't in. You're more distracted by your new lips, which you think are huge in that Mick Jagger fashion.

You bite your lower lip and decide you should re-apply some lipgloss, before continuing by freshing up your make-up. Memories of you and Steve having a few great evenings getting drunk together begin to resurface. Maybe you've fucked him a few times, weekly surprise hand jobs, blow jobs with facials or just swallowing, some anal or creampie on his birthday, nothing a cool gal wouldn't do for her brofriend, even more so for one that gets you drinks, a voice whispers in the back of your head, but you don't really notice it because that's probably the sort of stuff Mark would expect a friendly girl to do.

Either way, satisfied with the state of your make-up, you shake your head and think about other things that might come and bite you in the ass. You give yourself a serious look in the mirror as you get ready to interrogate yourself.

What do you do for a living? New memories tell you that you are studying structural engineering, only two years remaining before you're set to work planning and building dams, bridges power plants and whatnot. The sort of stuff you dreamed working with when a kid before you lost the will and motivation to actually work hard and study. Wow! You give yourself a shocked and positively surprised face that makes you croon with pride at yourself. You do a small pose and give yourself one of your new million dollar grins.

Don't think too much about how you currently are making money shooting porn, focus on the fact that you have another leg to stand on later in your career, the voice adds to the topic and quickly compliments your discipline and willpower to focus and study hard.

Okay, but what about friends and family? Your parents are happy enough that you are studying. Your sister Alice is jealous of your discipline, but you two aren't otherwise that alike. She's a bit more prudish after growing up with a sister that has no shame, but that's what happens when you were an extroverted tomboy that became an incredible horny girl in your puberty.

Most of your friends are male, and most of them love to hang around with you to see a film or for a coffee. Most of them have gotten into stable relationships and have a more platonic, online relationship with you these days. You hang out with some at school while studying, talking shop. Some of them you've been naughty with and caused a bit of drama for them with their girlfriends, but you're always clear that you're not into relationships that will hamper your side job.

You stand up straight and give yourself a thumbs up. You might not have succeeded at becoming Mark again, but at the very least you're driven, you're getting an education, and you're loved by your friends for being who you are. Speaking of Mark, you think to yourself and you instinctively reach for your purse to fish out your driver's license.

Selene, a feminine name descended from Marcellus, the ancestor of Marcus, aka Mark. It makes sense to you, so you shrug and pick up your phone, checking out your revised friends lists on various social media as you move back into the living room.

Shit, you were supposed to clean this place, weren't you? Oh well, better do that before Steve gets back. Also, that gun, where did you put it? Might as well hide it away for now to avoid any accidental changes. Though, maybe you should have used it on someone else?