THEY'RE GONE! THEY'RE GONE! echoed through Mona's mind. The aliens that had grown on her chest since puberty, being a ceaseless burden and sucking the joy from her life, were finally gone! She, no, not she, ran his hands over his new, wonderfully flat chest. (Something had changed between his legs as well, and he knew that was important, but the new sensations from his chest were crowding out everything else.)
Mona had planned to drink enough to spend a week as a guy, but the thought of ever having to deal with the chest monsters again--in a week, in a month, in a year, in fifty years, was too depressing to contemplate. He turned to the TG sodas employee with a button reading "Ask me anything" and asked "If I finish this, this is permanent, right? I'll never go back?"
"That's right. You'll be immune to TG sodas, so even if you accidentally drank one nothing would happen." The clerk reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic swizzle stick, about ten inches long with a tiny plastic rooster surmounting one end. "Compliments of the house. Give it a stir with this, and it will enhance the flavor and other aspects of the experience." He handed the swizzle stick to Mona, grinning.
Mona used the stick to give the soda a stir, then drained every drop.