While Jace was scrolling through the jobs posted, there was one that caught his eye. He saw something with the word ‘food’ and his stomach started rumbling. It’s been a while since he’d had eaten and his tutoring session with Simon really worked up his appetite. He didn't really know what the job entailed, but there probably was food involved. That was really all Jace cared about. He had to keep this body well fed after all! Though he supposed this wouldn't be his body for much longer. Whatever, Jace’s motto was to think with his body, so that's what Jace is gonna do. He accepted the task without really looking at any details.
A map popped up on his phone, showing him the way to his destination. An Indian restaurant twenty minutes away. Luckily there was no timer showing, which was kinda weird, but that gave him some time to get there at his own pace. The previous transformations were all kinda rushed so maybe this'll give him some time to really experience it.
Jace started walking towards the restaurant, feeling some of that mental fog start to dissipate. He could feel some of his intellect start to return, which also made him curse himself for being so stupid to accept any random job. He was supposed to try to get back to normal right? And now he'd have another task to complete first. Jace sighed and pulled up his phone.
The task read: “I need someone to help me rate my food!” Jace considered his options. This task didn't seem too bad. At least he'd still get to eat something, and even if Jace or any of his previous identities were not much of a food connoisseur, just giving his opinion on some food sounded like an easy job. Jace never really was a fan of indian food but he definitely won't say no. His stomach began to rumble as he made his way to the restaurant.
He did wonder about the time limit though. That was kinda weird right? What if he didn't go do the task? What would happen then? Jace decided to test something. He remembered that when he was transformed into Jace, his own comments and that of the taxi driver influenced his final transformation, and after that it seemed like reality solidified again when he arrived at the job location. If he never arrived there, would he still be under that reality warping effect?
Jace looked into the window of a nearby shop and saw himself in the reflection. His toned, hairy greek body on display, though he did already spot some tiny changes. While he was kinda stocky before, it seemed slightly more so now, and was his hair a shade darker than before? He still had about fifteen minutes before he arrived at the restaurant but these were definitely signs of the transformation starting. For this experiment he had to already be under the app's influence. Jace tried to remember his previous original identity as clearly as he could and opened his mouth. “My name is Josh. I live at my parent’s house. I am young and white. I studied History and classics.”
Jace held his breath, and hoped that if he succeeded, he'd be back to his own life. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at his reflection.
But there he was. Still Jace. Still hairy, and still stinking slightly of sweat. “Shit. Guess it was too much to hope for.” But still, he wasn't giving up. He’d find a way.
Jace continued walking, but quickly found himself lost. While he did have a map on his phone, he guessed his full intellect hadn't returned yet. He turned to a passerby. “Hey bro! Do you know where that indian restaurant is?” He cringed slightly at his word choice, still feeling like Jace.
The man, a middle-aged guy wearing clothes that were slightly too small for his rotund frame, looked at him. “Do you mean Royal Spice Curry House? I used to go there a lot in the past but lately, it seems like the food doesn't taste that great anymore. Honestly, I wouldn't recommend it anymore. You can take my word for it, my belly has already shrunk so much since I stopped going there. Though actually, yours almost rivals mine!” The man laughed at his own joke.
Jace looked down at himself. Sure, he was a little stocky, but he didn't have the beachball the man did. Then Jace felt a shift. Slowly his belly started growing slightly with each breath. Jace panicked a little, which only made him breathe faster. Soon he stood there with a belly almost the size of the man’s own belly. Though a little smaller. He did say almost after all.
Jace was bewildered. Why hadn't it worked on himself earlier? Maybe he needed someone else to hear him speak. Jace quickly started speaking, thinking he'd found the solution. “My name is Josh. I live at my parent’s house. I am young and white. I studied History and classics.”
Jace quickly looked at the window reflection, but was left disappointed. What are the rules of this app?
The man looked confused. “Okay… nice to meet you Josh… I guess…Why did you want to go to that restaurant anyway?”
Jace quickly made something up. If that reality warping thingy didn't want to activate, there would be no harm in overembellishing. “I'm actually a famous food journalist. I travel all over the world to taste the best food and find the most delicious little shops tucked away. I've tasted many foods, but I've always had a soft spot for Indian food. That’s why I’d love to go there.”
“Ah, how interesting! That explains your belly!” With that comment, Jace’s belly swelled a little larger. “Anyway, if you go down that street and then head straight ahead, you'll see it on the left side.” The man stepped a little closer. “By the way, where can I find you online? I’d love to look at your reviews.”
Jace quickly improvised. “If you look up ‘Josh eats’ I’m sure you’ll find me.” With such a common username there was no way the man wouldn't get results.
The man quickly typed it in. “I did find something, ‘JoshuaEats’. Joshua is your real name I assume. And look at all those reviews! I’ll definitely check out some of them myself. Thanks a lot!”
Jace smiled. “Of course! No need to thank me. I’ll just head to the restaurant now to post my next review. It was nice chatting!” After a goodbye from the man, Jace started heading out again, though he was kinda curious what the man found.
Jace pulled up the site the man looked at and froze. There at the top of the page was a picture of Jace. “What? How?” Reality must have warped again and made his words a reality. It seemed almost random what did and didn't trigger it, but Jace knew there must be some mechanic to it. He just hadn't figured it out yet.
His now beachball sized belly grumbled loudly. He was really hungry now he realised. Maybe it had to do with his now huge belly. He started walking again. He really was craving Indian food badly.
Jace waddled along the pavement, one hand clutching his phone while the other absentmindedly rubbed his swollen belly. It jiggled slightly with every step, taut and warm under his hoodie, which was now stretched so tightly across his gut that the zipper was starting to split a little near the bottom. “Great, hopefully the app magicks up some better clothing for me soon.” he muttered.
His footsteps were slower now, his thighs rubbing slightly together in a way they hadn’t before, and he kept catching whiffs of sweat and something like… cumin? Was that coming from him? Maybe it was just his imagination. Or the scent drifting from all the nearby restaurants.
As he walked, he passed a café with a large reflective window and paused to glance at himself again. His reflection made him do a double take. His face… it looked rounder now. Puffy cheeks, a slight double chin forming when he leaned forward. His jawline, once sharp and cocky, was softening like the rest of him. “This app really likes stereotypes huh. Not everyone who deals with food is fat, you know?” He doubted the app could hear him, but he wouldn't be surprised if it could.
“Shit.” he muttered again. “I'm starting to look like one of those food bloggers who just sits around stuffing their face and talking about ‘mouthfeel.’” He laughed a little at that, then stopped when he noticed the sound of his voice had changed—richer, a little deeper, and slightly accented. Almost melodious, really.
He just continued walking. His belly leading the way. He had to adjust his stance from how heavy it made his front in order to not fall over. That would be extremely embarrassing. He was sure he'd have some trouble getting up.
When he was almost at the restaurant, something else surprised him. He felt a chill on his head, and after looking at a nearby window, he saw that he was bald. “Damn. I was just getting used to having a full head of hair again. And I look mid-thirty, I guess that makes sense if I'm such a renowned journalist.” He smirked at that. While his previous body had a lot of power in the physical sense, this body was powerful in terms of status.
He saw the restaurant in the distance. In big neon letters it spelled: ‘Royal Spice Curry House’. He could definitely smell the spices from here, and as he got closer it only intensified.
When he opened the door he was immediately greeted by a tiny indian woman. “There you are! You must be Joshua! Thanks for coming! Please sit down. I'll have the food brought over shortly!” She extended her hand. “I’m Anjali. I run this restaurant with my husband Farid, he’s the chef and I do everything else.” She ushered him to a nearby table. “Best seats in the house!”
This woman’s enthusiasm was really something alright. Joshua was pulled along and brought to the table, after which Anjali disappeared in the blink of an eye. Joshua looked around the restaurant. It was a pretty big place, and decorated with all kinds of things that gave it a ‘homey’ feel. But looking further, Joshua couldn't see any other customers other than him.
Joshua heard shouting in indian coming from wherever he supposed the kitchen was, after which Anjali hurried over with several plates of food piled high. Joshua stood up and went to help her carry them, but with a look from her, he sat back down. “It’s sweet of you to help, but I’ve been doing this almost my whole life. You’re our guest! Please enjoy the food!”
Joshua smiled politely, adjusting himself in his seat as Anjali set the plates down one by one. The aromas were rich—cardamom, cumin, turmeric, garam masala—each scent hit his nose in waves, making his stomach growl even louder. His belly pushed snugly against the table now, and he had to lean back slightly to give himself more room to dig in.
“Wow,” he said, looking over the feast. “This looks amazing.”
Anjali beamed at him. “All classics! Butter chicken, palak paneer, dal makhani, lamb rogan josh… I added some papadum and chutneys as well. Just tell me what you think of everything!”
Joshua wasted no time. He tore into the butter chicken first, scooping a heaping portion onto his plate along with some naan. He chewed eagerly, expecting a burst of flavor to match the aroma.
But as he chewed, his brow furrowed.
It was… fine? The texture was good, the meat tender, and the spices were definitely present in the air. But when it came to actual taste, it was like something wasn’t quite clicking. The flavors were flat. Even the naan felt a little lifeless.
He tried the dal. Same thing. He could tell this should be good food, it smelled like it, looked like it, but it just… wasn't.
Joshua reached for his water and cleared his throat. “Anjali?” he called, waving her over gently. “Do you mind if I ask something?”
Anjali came rushing over with a worried smile. “Of course, of course! Everything okay?”
Joshua hesitated, then tried to phrase it as kindly as possible. “It smells absolutely amazing in here. Truly. But I don’t know… something about the taste feels a bit muted? Like it’s missing something. Does that make sense?”
Anjali blinked, smile faltering for just a moment. “Oh, well… we’ve had some… issues with the… spice supplier lately,” she said quickly. “You know how things are with imports, sometimes it’s hard to get exactly what we used to. But you just keep eating! Maybe your palate is just warming up.”
Her voice was cheerful, but Joshua noticed a little tension in the way she smoothed down her apron. She rushed off before he could say more.
He frowned but kept eating. His body wanted food badly, even if his critic’s mind remained unsatisfied. Dish by dish, he worked through the table, belly groaning with the effort. He leaned back halfway through, wiping sweat from his brow with a napkin. His bald head was starting to glisten.
“God,” he murmured, patting his gut, “I look like I’ve eaten half the buffet already.” His shirt buttons were starting to strain, and yet he still reached for more, still unsatisfied.
Just as he finished the last of the lamb, Anjali returned, carrying a covered silver dish with both hands. “For you, a special surprise,” she said with a wink. “It’s our signature dish. We save it only for very special guests. You’ve been so generous with your time, we couldn’t let you leave without trying it.”
She set it down, lifted the lid, and a wave of scent hit Joshua like a truck. Whatever this was, this was different.
Golden sauce shimmered with ghee, studded with chunks of meat that glistened with tender juices. Aromas layered and complex, he couldn’t even name half the spices, but they wove together into something delicious. Joshua practically drooled as he took the first bite.
His eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
The flavors were alive. Vibrant. Rich. Every bite felt like a taste explosion, sweet and savory, tangy and deep. It was, without exaggeration, the best thing he had ever tasted in his life.
He couldn’t help himself. He devoured the dish with a passion, letting out little appreciative groans as he chewed. He barely even noticed when Anjali returned, this time with an older man walking slowly beside her. His eyes were sunken, and his posture carried the weight of someone who had seen better days, but he had a calm presence to him.
“This is my husband, Farid,” Anjali said gently. “He’s the chef.”
Joshua wiped his mouth hastily and stood up awkwardly, extending a hand. “You have to be the one who made that dish. That was incredible. I—I don’t even have the words. That was the best food I’ve ever had, hands down.”
Farid smiled, the lines around his eyes softening. “Thank you,” he said, voice low. “But I didn’t make that. That dish… was made by our son.”
Joshua blinked. “Your son?”
Anjali nodded. “He used to work in the kitchen with us. He had a gift. But a few months ago, he went to Canada for a new opportunity. Since then…” She looked down at the table. “Well, things haven’t quite been the same.”
“We saved a few of his signature dishes in the freezer,” Farid continued. “For special guests. We were hoping to wait for someone who’d truly appreciate them.”
“And when we saw you walk in,” Anjali added, looking at him more closely, “We just… well, you reminded us of him. Something about your energy. Or maybe just the way you carry yourself. Passionate. Thoughtful. Hungry.”
Joshua blushed slightly, patting his belly. “That last one, definitely.”
“We also knew that this was our chance to save our restaurant. You are one of the most popular food journalists in the world, and especially for Indian food. If we got a good review maybe the customers would return…” Anjali sighed. “But I know now that it was useless. We all know our food isn't what it used to be.”
Farid looked at Joshua long and hard before letting out a low laugh. “It’s funny… looking at you now. From behind, I thought you were our son.”
Joshua chuckled. “Yeah?”
Anjali leaned in closer. “Actually… you do look just like him. Same round face, same wide nose…”
Joshua’s nose tingled. He touched it absently and felt the cartilage subtly shift beneath his fingers, flattening and broadening until it matched the description.
“...Same thick eyebrows,” Farid added, narrowing his eyes.
Joshua blinked rapidly as his brows grew heavier, darker, more prominent across his forehead. His reflection in a nearby framed photo caught his eye. His features were… shifting.
“And that warm, golden-brown complexion,” Anjali said fondly.
Almost instantly, Joshua’s skin darkened a few shades, a deep tan turning into a rich brown. He looked down at his arms—definitely not Greek anymore.
“Same belly, too,” Farid said with a chuckle, giving his own gut a pat.
Joshua’s own stomach let out a noisy gurgle and swelled even further, rounding with just a bit more heft and softness as his clothes stretched slightly to accommodate it.
“And his voice!” Anjali exclaimed. “That deep, buttery voice when he talked about food.”
“Really?” Joshua said—only to freeze. His voice had changed mid-sentence. It was deeper now, smoother, and carried a cadence that sounded more like what he remembers from those old bollywood movies he used to watch. But, he never watched those… Right?
“You two could be twins,” Farid said, shaking his head with wonder. “I swear. Same height, same posture. If you told me you actually were twins, I wouldn’t question it for a second.”
Joshua’s back popped as his posture subtly adjusted, slightly hunched from years in kitchens, his gait shifting with a heavy step that matched the bulk around his middle.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the glass again. Not just similar. Identical to the young man smiling from a framed photo near the register, Anjali and Farid’s son. He also saw a vague shape start to form next to them in the family photo.
This was going too far, if he let them keep talking he would be turning into their new son. Maybe if he convinced them he was someone else he could regain some control over the situation?
Joshua tore his eyes away from the photo. This was getting out of hand fast.
He could feel it, that slippery slide into another identity. Every compliment, every offhanded comment from Farid or Anjali reinforced the transformation. This was a little too close for comfort.
“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, forcing a nervous laugh. “I get it! I guess I just look a lot like your son. Crazy coincidence, huh?”
Anjali tilted her head. “You’re not...?”
“No! No, no,” Joshua said, trying to sound casual. “I’m, uh… actually his cousin. From the UK. On his mother’s side.”
They blinked.
“My sister’s son?” Anjali replied, a little unsure.
“Yeah! Joshua Singh,” he added, pulling the name out of thin air and trying to flash a charming smile. “We met a few times when we were kids. I’m here on assignment, doing food journalism. Thought I’d drop by and see the place. Didn’t expect to get this kind of welcome, haha!”
Farid squinted at him, thoughtful. “Hmm… you do look just like him. But I suppose family resemblance makes sense.”
Joshua exhaled in relief. Good. That worked.
But then Anjali smiled. “You know… that actually explains a lot,” she said, eyes misting over. “Our son always used to talk about his cousin Joshua. Said he was the coolest person he’d ever met.”
Farid nodded, his face relaxing into a smile too. “He wanted to be just like you. You probably don’t remember, but when you visited that summer, he was so shy. You encouraged him to cook with you. After that, it was like something lit up inside him. He made his first curry with you in the kitchen. You told him it was the best you’d ever had.”
Joshua paused. “I… I did?”
Had he? No. Of course not. He wasn't this guy’s cousin. But as Farid and Anjali spoke, the memory started bubbling up like it had always been there. A warm kitchen. Laughter. A scrawny teen nervously handing him a steaming bowl of chicken tikka masala. His voice saying, “This is amazing, man. You could open a restaurant one day.”
“He said you were the reason he wanted to become a chef,” Anjali added softly. “You made food sound magical. Like it could tell a story.”
And it was like a door clicked shut in his mind. The name “Joshua Singh” didn’t feel fake anymore. It felt right. His skin tingled. His accent warped subtly, a subtle mix of both Indian and british.
He blinked rapidly. What the hell. He was getting swept up again.
“I think, uh, I think I should get going,” Joshua said, rising from the table. “Got another review to write, you know? Time waits for no man.”
Anjali stood with him. “What's the rush? Now that you're some hotshot journalist you can't spend time with your family? Please stay! I'd love to hear all about your adventures. You don't have a place to stay tonight, right? It's getting dark out, how about you stay here tonight? You can use our guest room!.”
Joshua hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his throat and stomach. Every instinct told him to say no. To get out before more things changed. But the look on Anjali’s face… it was warm. Familiar. Like he was her son’s cousin. Like he belonged here.
And maybe it was just the food coma setting in, or the warmth of the restaurant, or how damn homey everything felt, but he found himself saying: “Yeah… alright. That sounds nice, actually.”
Anjali beamed. “Wonderful! I’ll get the guest room ready. You go relax.”
As she disappeared into the back, humming to herself, Joshua wandered down the short hallway, peeking into rooms until he found the one that looked least lived-in. Small bed, faded quilt, bookshelf filled with cookbooks and old travel guides. A framed poster of some Bollywood movie he vaguely recognized.
He sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, letting the mattress creak under his weight. His belly pressed against his thighs—he really had eaten too much—and he rubbed it absently, already craving more despite the feast.
But it wasn’t just hunger gnawing at him. It was confusion. Frustration. And a little bit of horniness. He ignored it for now.
He suddenly realized he’d never actually read the full task description. He just saw the word “food” and hit accept like a big dumb dog chasing a bone. Classic Jace. He shook his head.
But that wasn’t even his name anymore. Was it?
He set the phone down and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. Today had been a whirlwind. From Jace, sweaty wrestling himbo, to Joshua Singh, professional food journalist with a British-Indian accent and a body built more for buffets than brawls.
And yet he still remembered being Jace. Sort of. Pieces of it. Like a dream that kept slipping through his fingers the more he tried to grab it.
He sat in silence for a moment, hearing faint sounds of Anjali and Farid moving around in the kitchen. The clinking of dishes. A kettle whistling. Someone laughed, he thought it might be Farid, but it was hard to tell. He went through his new memories in his mind. Those memories felt real. Like that summer years ago where he taught their son to make lamb rogan josh. Or the late-night talks on the rooftop where they talked about dreams, travel, writing. Things Jace never cared about, but Joshua? Joshua lived for those moments.
Joshua thought about the reality warping rules. It made no sense to him. Why was it still active? He’d arrived at the job location hadn't he? He tried hard to remember. When he became Jace, he thought the warping had stopped when he arrived at campus, or maybe others just hadn't commented too much about him? Vaguely he recalled another time when it happened. His first transformation into José. It was hard to remember, but did Miguel calling him his ‘bro’ change him, or was it a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy where the app had already created an identity for him?
He recalled this afternoon when he tried to turn back to his original identity. Josh. It seemed like several lifetimes away, and in a sense it was. It was clear that the warping only took effect when he was talking to someone else, but it also had limits to what it was willing to do. Maybe it had to do with the job he accepted? Being a food journalist didn't make sense for Josh, but it did make sense for Joshua. He supposed the job set a framework of what things were and were not associated with the person he was transforming into, and it was up to others to fill in the blanks.
Ugh. Thinking about all this complicated stuff made him tired. And hungry. But mostly tired. He hadn't slept in days, and all this food he ate today was almost putting him in a food coma.
He tugged at the tie, loosening it, and sighed in relief. Finally, he pulled off the rest of the formal outfit, letting the clothes fall onto the floor, and stood there in his boxers, taking in the strange new version of himself in the mirror.
His reflection was a shock. His head was bald, and his face—was that a mustache? Yes. A thick, dark mustache that almost made him look older than he felt. His pecs sagged with what could only be described as moobs, and his belly... a huge belly that stuck out proudly. He shook it a little, marveling at how different everything had become. Still, his body was covered in thick hair, just like before. But everything about him was softer, rounder. Even his face had changed, losing some of the sharpness it once had.
But there was also something Joshua found exciting about this body. He took in so much space, he’d definitely make heads turn when he walked through a door. And his soft hairy belly also felt kinda arousing when he rubbed it.
Just then, there was a soft knock at the door, and it creaked open. Anjali stepped in, holding a pile of blankets in her arms.
“Oh! Joshua, I thought you might need these. It’s getting a little chilly tonight,” she said with a warm smile, her voice kind and welcoming.
He nodded, grateful for the gesture. “Thanks, Anjali,” he replied.
She placed the blankets on the foot of the bed. “I’ll leave you to get settled. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. We’ve got plenty of food left, if you’re still hungry,” she added, her eyes twinkling with a knowing look.
Joshua chuckled weakly, actually kinda tempted, but deciding otherwise. “Maybe tomorrow...”
With a final glance, Anjali gave him a soft, understanding nod. “Alright, well, goodnight then. Sleep well.”
Joshua didn’t answer, already feeling his body relax at the sight of the bed. He watched as Anjali left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Exhausted, Joshua climbed into the bed, the heavy blankets wrapping around him like a comforting cocoon. His mind swirled with confusion, but soon the sleepiness overtook him. He pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes. The day's events were a blur, but one thing was clear: he was far from figuring out this transformation... but for tonight, sleep was all he needed.
When Joshua woke up, he felt surprisingly well-rested despite everything that had happened the day before. The thick blankets were still wrapped around him, but the warmth had dissipated, and the soft light from the window greeted him as the morning sun filtered through. He stretched, feeling the weight of his body shift with the movement—a reminder of the changes that had taken place. He had to admit, he was starting to get used to this new version of himself, at least for now.
He swung his legs off the bed, noticing the new clothes hanging in the closet. A pair of loose, comfortable jeans, a soft t-shirt, and a casual button-down shirt in warm earth tones. It felt like a perfect fit for the more laid-back day ahead. As he dressed, he glanced in the mirror again—he still had that heavy belly, the mustache, the balding head—but there was something about it all that felt... well, kind of comfortable now. Not like the body he’d once had, but in a strange way, it was starting to feel like his body.
After completing his usual morning routine—washing his face, brushing his teeth, and looking around the guest room one last time—he made his way downstairs. The scent of spices filled the air as he descended, and the familiar warmth of the restaurant greeted him.
Farid and Anjali were already in the kitchen, bustling around. The clatter of pots and pans echoed as they worked together, preparing what smelled like an entirely new batch of food. Anjali turned when she saw him. “Ah, good morning, Joshua! Sleep well?” she asked with a bright smile.
“Yeah, actually,” Joshua replied, feeling an odd sense of calm wash over him. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
Farid looked over from the stove, grinning. “Of course, of course! You are family, no need to thank us. We’re just happy you’re here.”
Anjali placed a steaming cup of chai on the counter. “We have some new dishes ready today, and we'd love for you to try them, Joshua. We really want to hear your thoughts.”
Joshua hesitated. He had eaten so much yesterday, he wasn’t sure he could handle more food. But then again, he had agreed to be a food journalist for a reason, right? He didn’t want to back out now. Plus, the food here... it was hard to resist.
“Sure, I’d be happy to give them a try,” he said, moving over to the table where a fresh spread had been laid out. There were new dishes that looked even more vibrant than the ones he had eaten the night before. The colors of the food seemed to pop under the kitchen light, and the scents—rich, spicy, comforting—were enough to stir his appetite again.
Farid grinned and set down a large plate of food in front of Joshua. “This one’s a new recipe. It’s a mix of our son’s ideas and our own. He always loved experimenting with flavors. We thought you'd appreciate it, considering your... expertise.”
Joshua looked at the dish, feeling a pang of unease. But he pushed it down. "I’m sure it’s great." He took a bite, letting the spices dance on his tongue. It was unlike anything he’d ever had before. The flavors were bold, deep, and somehow harmonious. It wasn’t just food—it was an experience.
He nodded, impressed. “Wow, this is incredible,” he said, genuinely meaning it. “What’s in this? It’s... unlike anything I’ve tasted.”
Anjali beamed, clearly proud. “We’ve been working on it for a while. But honestly, it was your influence on our son that made him want to experiment like this. You made him feel like food could tell a story.”
Joshua paused, the words striking a chord in him. He remembered how much his friend had once loved cooking. How he'd always wanted to push boundaries. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“You’ve done something special here,” Joshua added, savoring the taste. “This is the kind of food I could see myself writing about.”
Farid smiled warmly. “That’s exactly what we were hoping for. A review from you would mean a lot.”
Joshua chuckled nervously. “Well, I’m happy to oblige.”
As he ate, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that came with hearing their words. Was it the food? Or was it the deep connection they seemed to feel toward him? Something was definitely shifting within him, but whether it was the task, the transformation, or something else entirely, he couldn’t be sure.
But for now, he ate. He didn’t really have a choice—his stomach demanded it, and the food was far too good to ignore. And so, for a brief moment, everything felt... comfortable. Even normal.
Joshua sat at the kitchen table, the empty plate in front of him, still savoring the aftertaste of the food. He picked up his phone absentmindedly, feeling a sense of unease that had been nagging at him since he woke up. The app had been silent for a while, but when he opened it, he saw that the task was still active.
The task was labeled, “I need someone to rate my food.” The words seemed so simple, yet they weighed on him at that moment. His thoughts wandered back to the food. The dishes had been amazing, delicious, but the truth of the task hit him hard now. He was stuck in an endless loop.
If the job was simply to rate their food, and they always needed someone to do so, then as long as he was the only one eating, the task would never truly end. He realized that no matter how much he ate, they would continue needing food reviews, which meant he'd be stuck in this cycle forever. They depended on a reviewer like him to keep their business going, but that meant he was trapped in an endless loop.
Joshua's mind began to race. He couldn't stay here forever. He needed to finish this task and get out. But how could he break the cycle? Joshua knew this would only end when more customers visited the restaurant. He realised that he had already crafted the perfect identity for this job when he told that man on the street he was a famous food journalist. He needed to write his review, one that would attract attention and get people to eat here.
His fingers quickly tapped the screen, typing a review that he hoped would both help Anjali and Farid, and fulfill his task.
-
Joshua Singh's Review of Royal Spice Curry House:
As someone who has tasted Indian food from coast to coast, I can say with full confidence that Royal Spice Curry House is a gem waiting to be discovered. The heart and soul of this restaurant lie not just in its spices, but in the love that goes into each dish.
I started my meal with their signature dish, which was rich, flavorful, and cooked to absolute perfection. The spices were bold but balanced, creating a symphony of taste with every bite. The texture of the curries was velvety, and the naan—freshly baked and still warm—was the perfect accompaniment. Anjali and Farid, the lovely couple who run this establishment, have truly captured the essence of home-cooked Indian comfort food.
The real magic, however, comes when you realize that this restaurant has recently lost its creative spark. Their son, once the heart of the kitchen, has gone abroad, leaving a void that has left Farid somewhat adrift. I can only hope that with a bit of encouragement, Anjali and Farid will tap into that same passion they once had, reconnecting with the roots of their culinary journey.
My advice to this fantastic couple? Reach out to your son for guidance. He truly has something special, and the food here could shine once more with his influence. If you’re reading this, do not miss a chance to visit Royal Spice Curry House. Great food, great people, this restaurant deserves the recognition it once had.
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Joshua hit "Post" and then sat back, taking a deep breath. He stared at the screen for a moment, reading over his words. It wasn’t just about the food anymore. He had written a review that spoke to the future of the restaurant, encouraging Anjali and Farid to seek out the inspiration that had been lost since their son left. If what Anjali and Farid told him was true, their son was a big fan of his and would undoubtedly see what he wrote.
He felt his phone vibrate as notifications popped up—people would see it. His reputation as a food journalist meant people trusted his opinion, and soon, the restaurant would be filled.
Joshua looked at Anjali and Farid, both still busy in the kitchen. He stood up, walking over to them with a sense of determination in his step. He knew this was the moment to say what needed to be said.
"Anjali, Farid," Joshua began, his voice warm but firm. "You’ve got something incredible here, but you’ve been missing something important. Your son. I know he’s gone, but you have to understand—you can’t replace the spark he brought to this place."
Anjali stopped what she was doing, her eyes glistening with a mixture of pride and sadness. "We know," she said quietly, nodding. "It’s been hard without him. His food... it was so much more than just recipes. It was heart. And since he left... well, it’s just not the same."
Joshua smiled gently. "That’s why you need to reach out to him. Whatever is holding him back, you’ve got to find a way to bring him back into this kitchen. His influence, his creativity, that’s what made Royal Spice Curry House what it is. You’ve got to tap into that again."
Farid looked up, rubbing his hands together. "We’ve thought about it, but he’s so far away now... I don’t know if he’ll want to come back."
Joshua placed a hand on Farid’s shoulder. "You have to try. Trust me, there’s still so much potential here. I wrote something in my review—don’t let this place lose its heart just because of a distance. Make it your mission to reconnect, not just for your restaurant, but for each other."
“I’m going to head out for a bit,” Joshua said. “I think this place could really use some more customers. I’m going to advertise it outside. Give people a taste of what you’ve got.”
Anjali’s face brightened at the suggestion. "That’s a great idea, Joshua. You’ve done so much for us already. Go, spread the word. We’ll be here, waiting for you to bring back that spark."
Joshua nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Leave it to me."
As he stepped outside, Joshua walked toward the bustling street, preparing to call out to passersby. He had one final task to complete: getting more customers into the restaurant. If he did that, the task would be done. But this time, he wasn’t just doing it for himself. He was doing it for Farid, Anjali, and their son—hoping that, through his efforts, the restaurant could find its heart again.
He raised his voice. "Royal Spice Curry House! Come taste the best Indian food in town. Authentic, heartfelt, and made with love!"
It wasn’t long before people began trickling in, curious and eager to try what Joshua had raved about. Word spread, and soon, the once quiet restaurant was filled with the hum of conversation and satisfied customers.
Joshua felt his phone buzz and saw that his task was completed. He sighed in relief. If he didn't accidentally become such a famous food influencer, he would have been stuck doing that task for a much longer time. He contemplated heading back inside to congratulate Anjali and Farid, but knew that when doing so Anjali would just pull him to a table and serve him hundreds of dishes, and while that sounded good, he was not sure if he could resist the temptation to stay as Joshua. TaskRaccoon was still open, showing more jobs he could take. He felt confident now in being able to choose a job that was fitting for him, and he was also in the right headspace. Though, maybe heading back inside for a snack wouldn't hurt?