Still in the store, Jess is pacing near the dressing rooms, trying to calm down, adjust the tight skirt hugging her hips, and ignore the wave of strange business knowledge she shouldn’t have.
She mutters, “Okay, I just need to find Macy and get out of here…”
Elsewhere, behind a pillar:
Ryan is grinning.
“Okay, new plan,” he says, typing:
“Macy Petersburg becomes Mason Petersburg — a confident, charming 30-year-old male executive. He retains the memories and personality that make him dominant, clever, and semi-professional, but is now fully male and believes he’s always been that way.”
“Jess Johnson becomes Mason’s personal secretary. She acts the part — polite, obedient, organized, attractive — though retains her self-awareness and confusion about how things got this way. She finds Mason attractive, despite herself.”
He hits Execute.
Instantly, Jess stumbles, grabbing a nearby shelf for support as her reality warps again. Her high heels clack sharply against the floor as she adjusts to a new posture, her blazer tightening in a different way. Her mind is flooded with knowledge of scheduling meetings, answering phones, and handling Mason’s travel logistics. Her voice shifts subtly — more breathy, submissive, and composed.
At the same time, the dressing room door swings open.
Out steps Mason — tall, broad-shouldered, his fitted navy suit sharp and powerful. He adjusts his gold wristwatch and runs a hand through his sleek, dark hair. His confidence is effortless, his smile magnetic.
“Ah, Jessica,” Mason says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Jess turns around and gasps. “M-Macy?!”
Mason pauses, raising an eyebrow. “I think you mean Mr. Petersburg, Jess.”
Jess stares, lips parting. That’s not right… Macy… Macy was… a girl, my friend… we were just…
But instead she says, almost automatically, “Sorry, Mr. Petersburg. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
Her own words shock her, and she bites her lip. Why did I say that like it was normal?
Mason steps closer, eyes briefly flicking down to her legs before returning to her face.
“You look a bit… flustered. Is everything alright?” he asks, his voice warm, firm — and clearly laced with subtle flirtation.
Jess swallows. “I… think something’s wrong. I… I feel like I shouldn’t be here—like this. You were Macy. We were at the mall, and—”
Mason chuckles. “Jess, you’ve been working for me for over a year. Are you feeling okay? Maybe you need to take a moment to yourself. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
Jess hesitates. Her heart is pounding. No. He was Macy. We were trying on clothes—maid outfits. Superhero costumes. This isn’t real!
Yet when she opens her mouth, she says:
“Yes, Mr. Petersburg. I… I’ll get you your coffee now. Black, no sugar.”
Mason gives her a slight smirk, his gaze lingering a little longer than professionally appropriate. “Atta girl.”
He brushes past her — not quite touching her — and walks toward the store’s lounge area, which now appears like a luxury office space to both of them.
Jess stares at her reflection in the shop window.
A perfectly made-up, curvy secretary in a fitted blouse and pencil skirt stares back at her — a clipboard tucked under one arm, her phone on silent, lips painted soft pink, hair in a taut twist.
She whispers, “This isn’t me… This isn’t right…”
But she smooths her skirt anyway, takes a breath, and follows Mason — confused, flustered… and undeniably drawn to him.
From the shadows, Ryan elbows Billy.
“Okay this is next level. Look at how Mason’s checking her out. Dude thinks he owns the place.”
Billy chuckles. “And Jess is acting like his cute little office girl. But she knows something’s up.”
“Exactly,” Ryan grins. “Let’s see how far she bends before she breaks.”