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The Magic Shop

A rose by any other name

added by Wob Wob 2 years ago BM O Reality alteration

It was still almost half an hour before quitting time. Georgia looked herself over. Before she became a woman, Georgia, then Greg, had meant to change back at the first opportunity. Now, she liked what she saw in the mirror. Was she a lesbian now? She still had an engagement ring, so maybe she was still with Tina.

Georgia was tanner and shorter than she had been as Greg, but not by much, with black hair, what looked like B cup breasts and a tight body that was fit, if not athletic, from biking to work every day, just like Greg had. She was pretty, but, she thought, why limit yourself to pretty? She selected herself on the app.

“A cyclist named Georgia is checking herself out.”

Well, that was a little inconvenient. She was hoping for something to change about her appearance. The Hesitation timer counted down, but it didn't scare her as it had scared Greg. If anything, she got a perverse electric thrill from the unpredictability of the thing. She weighed how much she valued her bicycle commute. Not having to own a car was her favorite part of living in the city. She could always get it back, anyway. She shrugged, and made her change.

“A Bombshell named Georgia is checking herself out.”

Hesitation. Red Flash. Excitement.

“A Bombshell named Titties is checking herself out.”

Titties giggled to herself, amused with the app's straightforward immaturity. The name fit like a glove. 'Georgia' now felt as foreign as 'Greg' had before, a stranger's name, whatever her memories said. She giggled when she thought of what the company must have thought of her name. The job interview must have been hilariously awkward.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The plain blue jeans and white knit sweater Georgia had worn were intact, but stretched beautifully tight across her ample breasts, what looked like an F-cup, at a guess, and acres of curves. The sweater was just cropped just short of her waist, leaving exposed a couple inches of tight, tanned, and toned midriff. Her straight, glossy black hair was expertly cared for, hanging down to the small of her back. She'd gained almost a foot of height, standing almost seven feet on her six inch spike heels. Examining her wallet, she found a driver's license, identifying “Titties Marie Proctor. Next to it was a buss pass. Figures.


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