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Chapter 67: Psychosexual Trial (4)
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... glanced down at himself. The room was familiar, achingly so, as though it had trapped him in an endless loop. But his hands? Delicate, slender, and alarmingly nimble, as if spun from fine silk. His gaze traveled lower, and... oh.
Oh.
The unmistakable swell of a fuller bosom greeted him.
"Have I...?" he whispered, her voice pitching up an octave in betrayal. "Have I turned back into a woman?"
He, or rather, she hesitantly turned her head. There was Fialova, gracef ...
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