Just a Little Fun, Right?

The closer I got to David’s apartment, the more my nerves tangled into knots. My mind raced as I climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. How could I possibly tell him? For four months, I had kept this secret buried, but now it was impossible to hide. My reflection in the apartment building’s glass door told the truth—I wasn’t just different on the outside anymore. The small swell of my belly was undeniable now. Four months ago, I wasn’t even a woman, let alone pregnant.

I took a deep breath, pushing through the door and stepping into the building. The elevator doors slid shut behind me, but I couldn’t quiet my thoughts as I relived the night that had led me to this moment. That night at the reunion, when David dared me to use the app, everything had started as a joke—a game. None of us thought it was real.

But when I lost that bet and showed me the app on his phone, my life changed forever.

We had always been competitive, David and I, pushing each other into ridiculous dares. At the reunion, after a few drinks, the banter between us turned to an old urban legend about an app that could literally rewrite reality. David had pulled out his phone, laughing as he opened the app. "Come on, man. Just for fun. Let’s see what this thing can really do."

I laughed it off at first, shaking my head. “Yeah, right, like some app could actually change someone’s body. It’s probably just a gimmick.”

“Or,” he grinned, leaning forward, “you’re just too chicken to try it.”

That was all it took. I couldn’t back down. “Fine. Let’s see what you got.”

David’s fingers danced across the screen, entering details with mischievous precision. I watched, still skeptical, as he keyed in the transformation options. He chose “Female,” then adjusted the sliders for my height, hair color, and features. The final step was the name, where he typed in "Emily" with a wink. “How about this? I’ve always thought you’d make a cute Emily.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Then he hit “Confirm.”

Immediately, I felt a warmth flood through my body, radiating from my chest and spreading like a wave. At first, I thought it was just the alcohol messing with me, but as I glanced down, my heart skipped a beat. My clothes were starting to feel tight in strange places. My chest felt heavier, and my shirt was pulling against my skin in a way I had never experienced before.

“What the hell—?” I gasped, looking down as my chest swelled beneath my shirt, two mounds pushing against the fabric. I could feel my hips expanding, the waistband of my jeans pinching as my waist shrank. My legs grew longer, slimmer, and my arms became more delicate. My hands flew to my face as I felt my jawline soften, my features shifting.

David was staring, wide-eyed and speechless.

I rushed to the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at me. No, not a stranger—this was me, but different. My hair had lengthened, falling past my shoulders in soft waves. My eyes were still the same, but everything else—my face, my body—was that of a young woman. The reflection was beautiful, stunning even, but I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“David, what did you do?” I shouted, my voice coming out higher and softer than I expected.

He was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “Holy crap, it actually worked.”

I was too shocked to speak. The sensation of my body—the weight of my new breasts, the curve of my hips, the softness of my skin—was overwhelming. I ran my hands down my sides, feeling the unfamiliar contours of my new form.

“We’ll change you back in a week, don’t worry,” David said, still smirking. “Just a little fun, right?”

Fun. That’s what it was supposed to be—just a week as a woman for laughs. But things didn’t go the way we expected. Over the next few days, David and I hung out more than usual. At first, he seemed fascinated, almost intrigued by how I looked now. We laughed about the whole situation, but there was this underlying tension that neither of us acknowledged.

Then, one night, everything changed.

We had been drinking again, both of us a little tipsy as we sat on his couch watching some movie neither of us was paying attention to. The conversation had shifted, becoming more personal. David was curious about how I felt, what it was like being in a woman’s body. I shrugged it off at first, but eventually, the alcohol loosened my tongue. I admitted that I felt... different. My body was more sensitive, everything felt more intense—especially physical touch.

David’s eyes lingered on me longer than they should have. The air between us thickened with tension. I don’t know who made the first move, but suddenly, we were kissing. It felt so intense, electric, like nothing I had experienced before. His hands roamed over my new body, and I didn’t stop him. Instead, I leaned into it, feeling a desire I couldn’t explain—something primal, something that had been building since the transformation.

The rest of the night was a blur of passion. We ended up in his bed, our clothes discarded in a heated rush. The sensations were overwhelming—his touch on my new body, the way my skin reacted to him. Every nerve was alive, and as we came together, I felt a wave of pleasure unlike anything I had known before.

The next morning, I woke up beside him, my mind spinning. We hadn’t used protection. It was the first thought that hit me, but I pushed it aside, figuring it was a one-time thing. We’d laugh about it later, right?

Except we didn’t.

A week later, when David tried to use the app to change me back, the screen flashed a message: *Unable to reverse transformation.*

Panic set in, but David assured me we’d figure it out. Time passed, and we both tried to adapt. But then, two months in, I missed my period. And the tests confirmed what I had been dreading—I was pregnant.

Three Months Later

Now, it was three months since that day at David's apartment. The weeks had passed like a whirlwind, and here I was—seven months pregnant. My belly had grown large and round, and it was impossible to ignore the fluttering movements inside me, a constant reminder that our night of passion had created something real, something I couldn’t run from.

David had been supportive ever since I told him the truth. Once the initial shock faded, he stepped up, wanting to be a part of this child’s life. But things were still complicated between us. Despite the connection we had that night, we hadn't fully figured out what we were to each other. Were we just friends? Co-parents? More?

Sitting on David’s couch, I absentmindedly rested my hand on my growing bump, feeling the baby’s soft kicks. I was starting to get used to the sensation of being pregnant, as bizarre as that felt. The changes in my body, the roundness of my belly, the new curves—it had all become part of my daily life. But sometimes, I would catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and remember how different things used to be.

David entered the room, a tray of snacks in hand, his eyes immediately drifting to my belly. He always did that now, an expression of wonder crossing his face every time he saw me. “You okay?” he asked, settling beside me.

“Yeah,” I smiled, though my heart was still heavy with uncertainty. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

I hesitated. “Everything. Us. The baby. What happens after…”

David leaned forward, resting his hand over mine on my belly. His touch was warm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out, Emily. I’m here. We’re in this together.”

I looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance, and I found it. I wasn’t sure where our relationship was headed, but I knew one thing for certain—I wasn’t going through this alone. And as the baby stirred inside me, I felt a small sense of peace, knowing that whatever happened, we were going to be okay.