After my shower, I dried off and wrapped a towel around myself, heading back into the bedroom to get dressed.
I couldn’t believe how sexy I looked in the mirror, even with a towel wrapped around my body. The contours of Alicia’s form stared back at me—a tantalizing blend of femininity and allure. Her bare thighs were smooth and enticing, tapering down into delicate ankles.
I needed to find something casual to wear. Memories of trying on clothes with her sister, Jennifer, last night flickered into my mind.
I walked over to the closet and opened it, taking in the array of clothes hanging inside. There were dresses, skirts, blouses, and various other pieces I had never worn before.
I settled on a pair of fitted jeans and a simple t-shirt.
Wait, no. I found myself putting the t-shirt back and instead reached for a light, flowy blouse. As I slipped on the blouse and buttoned it up, I couldn’t help but question my clothing choice. Why did I feel compelled to wear something more feminine than just a simple t-shirt?
I smoothed the blouse over my waist, admiring how it accentuated the curves of Alicia’s body. I was practically drooling over myself now, my teenage boy brain nearly short-circuiting.
The jeans hugged me differently than my boy jeans, wrapping around my hips in a way that emphasized the new shape of my body. It made Alicia’s butt look exceptionally round and inviting. I turned sideways to examine the reflection, feeling a strange pride blossom in my chest. This body—Alicia's body—was undeniably attractive.
I adjusted her hair, still glistening from my morning shower. I normally had brown hair, so this was a striking change.
I finished dressing and reached for a pair of ankle boots that looked comfortable enough to walk in. After lacing them up, I took a final look at Alicia’s reflection: an alluring young woman, poised and ready to explore London.
“Okay, Tim,” I muttered to myself, “Time to be Alicia for the day.”
When I reached the living room, I found Alicia’s mother sipping her tea and flipping through a magazine on the couch. Her gaze shifted toward me as I entered, a proud smile spreading across her face.
“Oh, you look lovely this morning, Alicia!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration, “Are you going out today?”
“Uh, yeah, just going for a long walk,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant as I adjusted the collar of the blouse.
“You always look so fashionable,” she added with a soft smile, “Enjoy yourself, sweetie!”
“Thanks, Mum,” I said, still attempting a British accent.
I laughed to myself in disbelief, as I grabbed Alicia’s purse and walked out the door. Her mother still had no idea an American teenage boy was in her adult daughter’s body. I felt guilty for touching her so intimately, too, but what her mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
I pulled out the Oyster card and began walking toward the nearest tube station. Soon, I found myself aboard a train bound for Central London. As we sped through tunnels, I glanced around at the other passengers: students glued to their phones, businesspeople engrossed in their laptops, and tourists. I thought about who I was to them now —just another pretty young woman.
I couldn’t believe I was out in public like this, presenting as a woman.
Eventually, I found myself at Camden Market. I wandered through the narrow pathways, passing stalls overflowing with handmade jewelry, quirky clothing, and eclectic artwork.
I paused at a stall adorned with colorful scarves. The vendor, an elderly woman with bright eyes and an infectious smile, beckoned me closer.
“Would you like to try one on, love?” she asked warmly.
I hesitated for a moment before nodding. The woman draped a vibrant turquoise scarf around my neck, adjusting it so it fell gracefully over my blouse.
“Lovely, absolutely lovely!” she declared, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
“Thank you,” I replied, glancing at my reflection in a nearby mirror.
Who knew that something so simple could make me feel so beautiful?
I found myself getting hungry. I spotted a food stall selling falafel wraps and decided to treat myself.
“Hello,” I said politely as I approached the vendor, trying to project that confidence Alicia must have had.
“What can I get for you?” he asked with a friendly smile.
“I'll have a falafel wrap,” I caught him looking at my chest, “...please,”
I caught him looking at my chest and felt a flush creep up my cheeks. I quickly glanced away, focusing instead on the array of fresh vegetables he was tossing into the wrap.
A man beside me –about Alicia’s age– started making small talk.
“Looks like we have the same taste in food,” he said with a charming grin.
I couldn’t help but smile back. It was obvious that he was just trying to flirt with Alicia, but it still made me feel self-conscious.
“Yes, falafel wraps are my guilty pleasure,” I replied, trying to play along.
The man’s smile widened. “Mine too,” he said. “My name’s Max.”
“Alicia,” I introduced myself, extending my hand.
I turned around a rolled my eyes.
But, I had to admit, it felt weirdly good to get positive attention for the way I looked. Even if it wasn’t really me that he was interested in.
“Coming right up!” the vendor said, deftly assembling the meal before handing it over with a flourish. “Enjoy, love!”
A pang of longing struck me as I took a bite of the falafel wrap. Thoughts of my real family flooded my mind —I could almost hear my little sister's laughter and see my parent's familiar smiles at the dining table. That thought stung sharply, reminding me of the stark reality: I was stuck in this body, running around London on my own.
The image of my boyish self curled up against the airplane window haunted me. How was Alicia handling being in my body, I wondered?
I looked down at the way I was crossing my legs in Alicia’s body. The shape of her hips and thighs were so different from mine. The absence of my penis… it felt like a part of me was missing.
I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. This wasn’t my body, this wasn’t who I was supposed to be. But for now, this is who I was.
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