The Middle-Aged Babe? The Remote of Transformation chapter 4 by deleted_user

Mr. Walcott’s socks-and-sandals combo, a fashion crime Ethan usually found offensive, suddenly became the perfect target. He was a creature of habit, immune to the small curiosities of the world. He wouldn't even notice if he suddenly grew a third arm, let alone became a completely different person.

Ethan held the Morphisizer up to the window, its lens humming with a low-frequency buzz. He aimed it with the practiced precision of a sniper, the crosshairs on the screen locking onto Mr. Walcott’s beer-holding hand. The user manual—a single, grease-stained sheet of paper—explicitly stated the device needed a "stable, recognizable anchor point." The beer can would do.

Taking a deep breath, Ethan pressed the power button.

Instead of the cataclysmic flash he expected, a soft, ethereal shimmer washed over Mr. Walcott, rippling through the air like a heat haze. The shimmering effect traveled from his hand, up his arm, and then slowly over his torso. It felt like watching a glitch in reality, a low-res video game character being rendered in real time. The faded, wrinkled fabric of his polo shirt seemed to stretch and then shrink, morphing into a snug lavender tank top. The sandals and socks were gone, replaced by a pair of pristine white sneakers. His prominent beer belly smoothed into a flat, toned stomach, and his thinning gray hair grew into a thick, dark braid that cascaded over one shoulder.

The Coors can slipped from his newly slender fingers, splashing a small amount of beer on the perfect green lawn. Mr. Walcott, now a twenty-something woman, didn’t even seem to notice. With the same absent-minded grumble, she bent down, picked up the beer, and took a long, familiar swig.

Ethan leaned closer to the window, his breath fogging the glass. Mr. Walcott acted exactly as he always did. He walked with the same slouched, world-weary gait, and when he paused to watch a bird hop along the sidewalk, his expression was the exact same. It was Mr. Walcott in every way that mattered, but in a body that was completely, jarringly different.

A wave of giddiness and dread washed over Ethan. It worked. The Morphisizer actually worked. He had transformed a person from a distance. The potential for the science fair—for the world—was staggering. But a different thought snaked into his head, cold and unnerving. What if the Morphosizer didn’t just change the body, but also the mind? What if Mr. Walcott thought he was a young woman?

He watched as Mr. Walcott, still Mr. Walcott, walked with purpose back toward her house, opened the screen door with a creak, and disappeared inside. Ethan’s heart hammered against his ribs. He had turned a man into a woman without his consent, without him even noticing. The power was exhilarating, but the implications were terrifying.