You sit alone in your apartment, browsing the internet and checking on the latest international news. You're a 28-year-old gay man, politically conscious, and global-minded. Your apartment reflects your personality - minimalist with touches of international decor, each piece with a story to tell.
There’s a knock at the door, startling you from your deep dive into world events. You rise and open it, revealing a young woman holding a clipboard, her smile bright and professional. She introduces herself as a political survey taker, wondering if you’d spare a few minutes of your time. You have nothing planned for the day, so you agree and invite her in.
“Thank you so much! Our first question: How would you describe your political beliefs?”
Your lips part to voice your liberal views, your belief in universal healthcare, LGBTQ+ rights, and climate change policies. But as you open your mouth, a different answer slips out, surprising you as much as the survey taker.
“I reckon I’m a conservative. I believe in limited government, traditional values, and strong defense.”
The words feel foreign on your tongue, as if spoken by a stranger. You try to correct yourself, to tell her that’s not true, but your voice seems to have a mind of its own.
“Do you support President Trump?” She asks, scribbling down your previous answer.
“Why yes, I do. I think he’s done a great job for this country.” The words escape your mouth without your permission. You blink, stunned by your response. The voice was yours, but the words weren't.
The woman nods, writing down your answer before moving on to the next question. As she does, a strange warmth begins to spread through you. It starts in your chest, flowing down your arms and legs, making your skin tingle. You feel your body shifting, your clothes changing.
Your plain white tee morphs into a sleeveless floral blouse, the material hugging your chest in a way it didn’t before. Your jeans become a pair of light-washed denim shorts, exposing thighs that feel softer and smoother. You gasp as you watch your arms become slim and toned, your fingers thin and delicate. A ring encrusted with diamonds appears on your finger, catching the light as you move.
You look down, realizing your body is changing in more ways than one. Your chest feels heavier, fuller. Your waist is cinching in, while your hips flare out. You realize with shock that you're turning into a woman - a Southern belle to be exact.
The warmth fills your head, your thoughts becoming hazy. You can almost hear the faint strains of country music, the sound of a truck engine, the taste of sweet tea on your tongue. Your mind begins to fill with new memories, replacing the old. You're no longer a politically conscious gay man, but a conservative Southern woman.
“Tell me about your background,” the surveyor asks, pulling you back to the present. “Where are you from?”
“I’m from Georgia, born and raised,” you answer with an accent that drips with Southern charm. “A small town gal at heart.”
The woman grins, jotting down your answer. She takes note of your accent and the confident ease with which you lie back into the armchair, one leg crossed over the other, a hand resting on your new, ample bosom. She then asks, “What did you do before settling down?”
“I was a cheerleader in high school. After graduation, I took some college classes, but then I got married.”
Again, your answers come naturally, rolling off your tongue with a candor that makes them feel real. You look down at your new body, amazed by the curves, the softness, and
yes, even the impressive size of your breasts.
“This isn’t part of the survey, but I can’t help but notice…” The woman begins, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Are your... breasts real?”
You giggle, something you’ve never done before, and answer, “Well, honey, these babies are as real as the money can buy.”
You spend the next hour answering questions, each one reinforcing your new identity, reshaping your personality, and your body. By the end, you are fully transformed into a 28-year-old Southern belle, named Loretta May. You stand 5'2", your body weighing a curvaceous 130 pounds.
As the survey taker finishes, your front door opens. A man walks in, tall, ruggedly handsome, with a Stetson hat on his head. He grins when he sees you, his gaze loving and familiar. Your heart flutters as he strides towards you. He is your husband.
“Who was that, darlin’?” He asks, a Southern drawl matching your own. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.
“Just a sweet girl askin’ about our values, honey.” You answer, your body fitting perfectly against his.
He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “And what’d you tell her your greatest value is, sweetheart?”
You turn in his arms, a coy smile on your lips. “I didn’t tell her, but I reckon my greatest value is going to be giving you a son, don’t you think?”
He grins, his eyes lighting up at the thought. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you towards the bedroom as he replies, “I reckon you’re right, Loretta May, I reckon you’re right.”
For the Record i am very liberal but this story still seemed amusing to me