“S-sure” I stutter in my new voice, and Chloe starts to lead me inside to the kitchen.
As I follow her, I noticed I am walking distinctly girlishly. My hips sway exaggeratedly from side to side and my hands are held daintily by my side, and I am taking small steps as this tiny black minidress clings to my form with every step. The sensation of bare legs against the fabric is a foreign and my hair is dancing across my shoulders as I walk.
Try as I might, I can’t make myself walk like a man. I am forced to walk like Amelia. Not only do I have her mannerisms, but they are compelled upon me.
Thinking of Mark again as we round the corner, I even add an extra wiggle to my hips in the hopes that he’s looking, though I know he’s probably still chatting. God, I am so smitten. This is ridiculous.
Inside the kitchen, I close the door behind us, turning to face Chloe as she begins to speak, her expression curious and concerned.
"Amelia," Chloe starts, her voice gentle yet probing. "Is everything okay? You seemed a bit... distracted out there. Is something on your mind?"
I jolt with embarrassment. Had she noticed me fantasising? I struggle to gather my thoughts, and I attempt to summon Amelia's poise.
“I know changes like this must be hard to adjust to, but you know I am here for you,” says Chloe. I freeze.
