The young woman sat on the floor next to her bed. Her dressing gown was much too large for her and she felt the need to leave a pillow on her lap to distract her from the strange feeling that was coming from her crotch. As she phoned the helpline on the back of the medicine box, she gripped her phone so hard that the plastic creaked. “What do you mean, you can’t change me back!?” she shrieked into the receiver. “The pill was just supposed to make me more attractive, not turn me into a completely different person!”
“We apologize for the inconvenience, sir, er, miss,” the rep replied, sounding bored. “But as stated in the disclaimer you signed, all changes are permanent and YouLabs cannot be held liable for any unexpected changes due to the average variance in reaction to the drug.”
“This isn’t an ‘average variance’, this is a fucking nightmare!” the woman snarled. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and flinched. Silky black hair and almond eyes. Cute, sexy, and 100% foreign. “I’m a guy, for Christ sake!”
“Again, we apologize for any inconvenience,” the rep droned on. “As a courtesy, YouLabs is prepared to offer you a complimentary attitude adjustment to improve your customer experience. It will help you feel more at home in your new body.”
The woman froze, ice trickling down her spine. “Attitude adjustment!? What the hell is that supposed to-”
She never got to finish her sentence, as a switch painfully flipped on in her brain. A cascade of images flooded her mind, too fast to process. Childhood memories of growing up in Seoul. The taste of kimchi jjigae, the feel of hangul characters flowing from her pen. Cramping agony as she rode the red tide for the first time. Giddy whispers and furtive touches as she explored her burgeoning sexuality. The woman shook her head, trying to clear it, but the foreign memories kept flooding in. Competing for top marks at Ewha University. Giggling karaoke dates with unnies. The ecstatic losing of her virginity in the back of some guys car. A Korean car of course.
“No, this isn’t real, it’s not me, I’m not-” She looked down at the strange yet familiar curves of her body, the dainty hands still clutching the phone. “Naneun…I…jenjeng ihae… andwoyo… Geugeon naega aniya…” In rising panic, she realized Korean was now bleeding into her thoughts, overriding English. Lines of hangul danced behind her eyes, crowding out the roman letters. “Naneun namjaga aniya,” she babbled desperately. “I’m not yeoja…I mean, yeojaga aniya!” Her old life as a man was now feeling distant. Unreal. Like a quickly fading dream. “Modeun geoshi heosseureopgo natseon deutae,” she whispered in dazed Korean. Everything was now tinged with unfamiliar familiarity.
She shook her head to try and clear the lifetime of Korean memories that were crystalizing in her mind, shoving aside the remnants of her past. “Jeoneun… nugu… jeyo?” (Who… am… I?) This fundamental question came out in Korean in her mind, her thoughts now firmly in that language.
“There we go, that feels much better, doesn’t it?” the rep chirped, her words now barely understandablethrough the woman’s now intermediate grasp of English. “You are now Park Min-seo and I think you’ll find your new life as her to be quite satisfactory. Annyeonghi gyeseyo!”
The call disconnected with a click. Min-seo slowly lowered the phone, a single tear trickling down her cheek. Any remnant of her old self now persisted only as a vague feeling of confusion. “W-Wae ireonikka isanghan gibuni deureojiji?” (W-Why do I feel so strange?) she mumbled to herself, not even registering that she was speaking Korean. Of course she was, that was her language after all.
Min-seo pushed the tickle of confusion out of her head and focused on the moment at hand. First, she needed a shower and second, she needed some hot guy to fill her aching hole.
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