Pastor to Punk The New World of SwapTech chapter 5 by deleted_user

The woman staring back at Greg in the mirror was maybe 5’1”—tiny, sharp-featured, with short, jagged-cut hair dyed an unnatural pastel lavender. Her eyebrows were thin and expressive, nose a little upturned, lips pouty and glossed. She wore black eyeliner that flicked up dramatically, and a tiny silver hoop glinted from one nostril.

Greg’s oversized flannel shirt hung off her like a dress, exposing narrow shoulders and the upper curve of two small but perky breasts, nipples visibly poking through the fabric. She had narrow hips and a slight curve to her thighs, but the overall effect was lean, wiry, and waifish. Her feet were now bare and delicate, and her toenails were painted black.

Greg recoiled.

“This is witchcraft,” he muttered, his voice now soft and girlish with a rasp of defiance.

He turned in the mirror and gasped as the hem of the shirt rode high, exposing far too much of his new rear.

“I look like one of those… those liberal art students,” he hissed. “God have mercy.”

What does Greg do next?

• A. Try to wipe off the makeup—only to discover it won’t budge.

• B. Search his phone for signs of what’s happening.

• C. Scream at the sky, fists shaking.