"Hey," she says.
"Hey - you're that magical girl from before?"
"Yeah. They decided to reward me for the apprehension by letting me off early, and I thought I might as well catch you. You seemed nice, and after all, I didn't even get your name."
You open your mouth, only to realize that, with the worldshift, you don't know your name either. You must look ridiculous. Christy giggles. "Boy, they hit you hard, didn't they?" She produces some sort of scanner from a belt around her thigh and runs it over you. "Rea Ash. It's a nice name."
"Thanks."
"I'm headed down for some drinks - wanna come with?"
"Sure," you say, a bit surprised she's old enough to drink, but following her nonetheless.
Once you're both settled and sipping, she turns to you. "Got anything to say about yourself?"
"...not really," you say, hoping not to let on how true that is. Suddenly, you remember something you can tell her: "um, although I'll probably be a balloon this time tomorrow."
She laughs. "Oh?"
"Yeah," you say, hanging your head. "It's apparently my boss's policy when a new worker shows up late."
Christy shakes her head. "Company contracts are a bitch." She puts a hand on your shoulder. "Listen... if you don't show up to work tomorrow of your own free will, they've got you, and you can't quit without notice, but if someone were to transform you against your will..."
You perk up. "You'd do that?"
"Haha, no, not me, I'm one of the good gals... but the thing about dealing with the dregs of society... well, you deal with the dregs of society."
She smiles, and you return her smile. "I see."
"Drink up! I think I have to make a call... of course, one bearing no relation to anything we've been talking about, none whatsoever." She winks at you, as the bartender, one of the few men you've seen in this world, pantomimes whistling to himself in theatrical mock ignorance. "Completely randomly, you never did answer me about the idea of becoming a dress..."
"As long as I won't stay that way, I like it just fine."
Christy chuckles. "We'll see." She leaves some money for your next round and walks off.
You walk home three sheets to the wind - this new body has done a number on your tolerance. Your legs suddenly feel weak, numb. You're descending to the ground, but it doesn't feel quite like falling, and you're sure it's not just the liquor. Simply put, your senses are telling you your legs are no longer quite there. With a smile, you look down at yourself, to find...