The funny thing, Alex thought, looking at herself in the mirror, is that she didn't look all that different from Jeff. A woman, yes, unmistakably a woman, but small-breasted and narrow-hipped, with short brown hair like what Jeff had had before he started losing it. Wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. She looked like the kind of working-class lesbian Jeff had seen a hundred times, always with a faint twinge of something that he only slowly learned was envy. Pumping gas, picking up a case of Bud on a Saturday night. . .that was who she was now. That was who she had always been.
She didn't feel that great surge of ecstasy like in the stories of transformation Jeff had read on the internet. Just a quiet assurance, as for the first time she felt at home in her body.
"Hey Alex" she heard her father yell "How about we order a pizza?"