Tara knew what she saw. There was nothing else it could be. Her boss's head, old and wrinkled, attached to the body of a woman her age! It wasn't crossdressing, she could clearly see the feminine, younger hands, the shape of that body, the way the clothes fit.

She stood there, watching him walk, frozen, wondering exactly what had happened. He obviously didn't care about being noticed. He didn't seem upset or distraught, nor did he seem happy, just his normal grumpy self.

All she could think was one thing. It played in her mind, over and over, like the chorus of a song.

What the actual fuck is going on?