Amira fidgets nervously with the hem of her hijab as she sits across from Fatima in the cozy café. It’s only been a month since the fateful encounter with that mysterious old woman in the marketplace – the one who caught Amira (then known as Andrew) lustfully ogling the beautiful, modest Muslim women going about their shopping. Fatima had grabbed his arm with surprising strength and hissed something in Arabic. The next thing Andrew knew, he was waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom, in an unfamiliar body – that of a young Muslim woman, hair covered by a hijab and curves concealed beneath an abaya.

At first, Andrew had raged against the transformation, desperately trying to claw off the hijab and abaya, to find a way to change back. But as the days passed, a strange sense of peace and rightness settled over him. He found himself looking forward to his daily prayers, to the feeling of soft fabric caressing his skin. The hijab felt less like a prison and more like a comforting embrace, a shield against the world’s impurities. From this point on, it didn’t take long for him to start thinking as a her. To start to automatically use the name Amira as she went about her new daily routines.

Now, sitting with Fatima, Amira takes a deep breath and says the words she’s been rehearsing all week. “I’ve decided I want to stay this way. Is it…is it possible? I’ve never felt so at peace, so complete. I love wearing the hijab, love the structure and certainty of Islam. I don’t want to go back to my old life.”

Fatima regards Amira thoughtfully, sipping her mint tea. “It is possible, yes. But it comes at a cost. The magic that changed your body is temporary and will fade eventually. That is, unless it is bound to your soul. But doing so means that your soul will start to change to match the body. Slowly at first, but irrevocably.”

Amira leans forward eagerly. “What do you mean? What will happen to me?”

“You will forget your old life, your old self. Andrew will fade away, slowly but absolutely. In his place will only be Amira – a devout Muslimah, obedient to Allah and her future husband. Your memories will reshape themselves, creating a new history for you. A pious upbringing, learning to recite the Quran at your mother’s knee, the shelter and seclusion of purdah.” Fatima’s eyes bore into Amira’s. “Your mind, too, will change. Arabic will replace English, until you can barely remember your mother tongue. You will find yourself thinking more and more in the language of the Quran. Your interests, your habits, your very personality – all will shift to align with your new faith and culture.”

“Even your body will transform further, from the inside out. Your womb will quicken, aching to be filled with Muslim babies. Your hips will widen, your breasts will swell with milk. You will crave a husband’s touch, yearn to submit to him in all ways. One day you will take joy in serving him, in being a vessel for his pleasure and his progeny.”

Amira listens, enraptured, cheeks flushed and heart pounding. It sounds like a dream…and also terrifying. To be so utterly consumed, reshaped in body, mind and soul…

“This is the price of permanence,” Fatima says solemnly, waving her hand over Amira’s teacup. “Drink the tea and it will be so. You will become Amira in truth, now and forever. There will be no going back. But you will be at peace, content in your submission to Allah’s will. You will live a life of purpose and purity, cloaked in the beauty of Islam. Is this truly what you desire?”

Amira closes her eyes, imagining it. Praying five times a day, her forehead pressed to the cool earth. The weight of the hijab on her hair, the whisper of the abaya around her ankles. The adoring eyes of her husband on her, the stirring of new life in her womb. A beatific smile curves her lips. “Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, this is what I want. Make me Amira, now and forever. Bind the magic to my soul, no matter the cost.” With trembling hands, Amira raises the delicate glass to her lips and drinks deeply. The hot, sweet liquid flows down her throat, suffusing her body with a pleasant warmth. As the tea settles in her belly, she feels a subtle shift deep inside, like a key turning in a lock. An unbreakable vow, a covenant sealed. Andrew gasps softly, realizing he has crossed the point of no return. Soon, he will forget himself entirely, subsumed by Amira. But for now, he savors the knowledge that his old life is forever behind him. He couldn’t be happier. Amira sets down her empty glass and smiles serenely at Fatima. “Shukran,” she murmurs. “Thank you.” The first of many Arabic words to come.