Friday, August 29th, 2042, Thrift Store, Issaquah, King County, Washington.

Lisa had not gone thrifting in years, blaming her absence of shopping sprees on a lack of pressing clothing needs. But the smell of old clothes and the thrill of the hunt felt deeply nostalgic. In her role as a healthcare professional, her employer provided her with a daily, regulation-compliant uniform. Practical clothing: scrubs and flat shoes. Over the years, She had filled her wardrobe with blouses, pants, and casual outfits she rarely wore around the house. The whole idea of following trends and fashion now felt as irrelevant and out of date as a decades-old magazine spread. The slightly stale air of the thrift store hung heavy as she reflected on 2018-2023—those years of carefree youth and a vibrant social life, before VR reshaped reality.

Back then, she had enjoyed shopping with friends, even if she never saw herself as particularly fashion-forward. There had been casual outings, excited discussions over outfits for nights out, and the occasional indulgence in something completely impractical just because it made her feel good. Those memories felt strangely distant now—like they belonged to someone else.

Once, long ago, her circle of friends had been a tight-knit group, planning weekend outings, impromptu gatherings, and long conversations over coffee that stretched into the night. But as the years passed, responsibilities, careers, and distance eroded the closeness they once shared. Now, the connections that remained felt more like remnants of a past life—something treasured, yet distant, like an old photograph of better days.

Jae—She had mentally settled on using this name until her partner let her know otherwise.

She reminded herself how today she came here to the thrift store for Jae, and not for herself. Now that she was here, she realised she had no idea what to get her. Should she stick to something simple, safe, and familiar, like jeans and t-shirts? Or perhaps closer to Jason's old wardrobe? Slacks and button-down shirts, just in her new size?

Her spouse did not yet have a strong sense of self. She was still becoming herself.

Despite being a fully grown adult, she would have to learn in days what most girls spend years figuring out during adolescence.

Poor thing!

And going beyond that, Jae would be experiencing the lows and highs of a second puberty at an accelerated rate—a mere four days! Lisa could barely imagine how her partner would cope with the hormonal swings, the emotional turbulence and the rapid shift in how she experienced the world around her.

Lisa ran her fingers along the thrift store racks, torn between practicality and the undeniable reality of what lay ahead. She had spent the drive doing mental calculations—Jae's body was still shifting, her height steadily shrinking. She had lost almost a foot of height already, and she would lose another over the next two days. Lisa knew this because she had seen the picture. Two days ago, Jason had shown her what his future self—her future self—had looked like in the game. The picture now acted as a looking glass into the future that awaited them.

As far as Lisa knew, there was no stopping it. Not only because it went beyond what modern medicine understood. But also because Jae herself did not seem interested in fighting it. Because it felt like she might be growing into her genuine self—one who could smile, and whose eyes shone with not only intelligence, but a certain joie de vivre.

Lisa singled out a few articles of clothing that felt safe. Some sweatpants with drawstrings, stretchy shirts that would not feel too restricting. Soft, loose-fitting clothes for comfort, because if Jae was dealing with a body in flux, she would need things that would not fight against her.

Lisa shifted through racks, her hands brushing over different textures. Cotton, fleece, denim. She frowned at a too-large hoodie before setting it aside. Everything needed to be just right—not too big, not too small, something Jae could wear without feeling completely alien in her own skin. Was she supposed to think of this as picking clothes for a friend? This felt like a shopping trip to outfit a daughter she never had.

The thought made her think of their goddaughter, Maya. Jae would soon be even smaller than M-E's daughter, a surreal shift Lisa still struggled to grasp. The image of Maya towering over Jae, wide-eyed with curiosity, calling her godmother—it was almost too strange to imagine. And yet, it was real, inevitable. The world around them was changing, and soon, even the smallest relationships would have to adjust.

Then Lisa's eyes drifted to another section. Dresses. Skirts. Things Jason would never have considered, but Jae…

She hesitated, standing still at one end of the wall of clothes.

Am I overstepping?

In the screenshot, Jae's character had worn a simple robe. Was she there already? Lisa was not even sure if her spouse would ever start wearing robes and dresses. But she had seen the way Jae had started to hold herself—smaller, lighter, different. She had seen how the dracan-girl had looked in the game, standing with some effortless grace Jason never had. There was something there.

She swallowed and reached out, pulling a few pieces from the rack. At first, she tried to convince herself she was choosing them out of convenience—simple designs, easy fits.

After all, those won't need as much adjustments for the tail as other items.

Deep down, she knew it was not that simple. Every selection carried weight, a quiet acknowledgment of change. Was she easing Jae into something new, or simply acknowledging what was already there?

A soft blouse, a casual sundress, leggings. Neutral colours at first—nothing too bold, nothing too overwhelming. But then her fingers brushed over something blue, a deep, rich one. She imagined Jae in the dress and how it might frame her smaller frame. Would she feel good wearing it? Would it be hers?

Lisa exhaled slowly, staring at the collection in her arms, the weight of the moment pressing on her shoulders. She could always return them if Jae recoiled, if it was too soon. But Lisa wanted to give her the option. To say, "I see you. I've got you covered."

She paused near a mirror, holding up a jacket against herself as if imagining how it would look on her spouse. It was probably too small for her now, but would probably fit her just fine tomorrow. Her reflection stared back, and for a moment, she thought about the person she had married. Jason's wardrobe had always been sharp, if a bit soulless. Slight variations in colours, but always the same cut, the same brand. And now, that person was slipping away. Replaced by someone she could not recognise, but paradoxically had also always known so intimately.

Lisa had managed to fluster her multiple times this morning. But behind Jae's embarrassment, Lisa had seen something unmistakable—her spouse's laughter had been unrestrained, rich with warmth, the kind of laughter Lisa had fallen in love with all those years ago. Not the cautious, measured chuckles Jason occasionally let out, always aware of how much emotion he allowed himself to show. Instead, this had been something effortless and real.

This made her wonder if Jason had ever truly been himself all those years? She had noticed something had been eating at him for years now, but he had never voiced displeasure or complained about anything, and she had trusted he would confide in her when he felt ready. But he never did.

Lisa wondered how she had never connected the dots—the diagnosis of Jason's anhedonia coming back to mind. Had he been suffering all those years, crushed with dysphoria and silently carrying this weight alone?

She thought back to their wedding day. It had been beautiful—just the two of them, exchanging vows under the towering cedars at the edge of Lake Crescent. He had smiled in the photos, laughed when she made a joke about the wind nearly knocking over their officiant. But later that night, when they had been alone, she had caught him sitting by the window, gazing out at the water. She had asked if he was happy, and he had said yes, but there had been something missing in his voice. Something absent. At the time, she had told herself it had simply been exhaustion.

Now, she wondered if that emptiness had always been there. If he had been forcing himself into a role that never quite fit.

With her arms full, she moved toward the counter, handing the garments to the cashier with an odd mix of determination and uncertainty.

"You can start to ring those up. I'm just going to grab a few more things," she said.

She turned around and quickly found what she was looking for. Needles, scissors and thread. She picked up a few spools of thread and a bag of sewing needles. She imagined the new clothes would soon need bespoke alterations to suit Jae's changing body. Like their marriage—they would be tested, pushed to theirs limits, and reshaped.

But they would endure and come out stronger.

Lisa tried to ignore the feeling in her chest as she returned to the counter. The cashier barely glanced up as she scanned the items, and Lisa found herself gripping the strap of her purse a little tighter.

Was she truly helping Jae embrace herself, or was she projecting her own ideas of what Jae's future should be?

She exhaled. She did not have the answer. But she had done her best picking clothes.

Now she had to prepare for what came next. Eventually Jae would have to step outside, wearing some of these. And Lisa vowed she would be right there, by her side.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The cashier handed her two bags filled with all of her neatly folded purchases. "Here you go, ma'am. Have a nice day."

"You too."

Lisa returned to her car, gently placing the shopping bags behind the driver's seat before sliding behind the wheel. She pressed the ignition button and the quiet sound of the air vents coming to life soon filled the space. The faint glow of the digital dashboard reflected off the windshield. She glanced at the empty passenger seat where Jae occasionally sat, and thought of the small bag of needles, thread, and scissors waiting behind her. A reminder of the adjustments they would need to make.

The drive home was quiet save for the occasional sound of tires rolling over uneven pavement. Lisa's mind drifted between the road ahead and the weight of the bags in the back seat. She knew Jae would appreciate the effort, but there was still uncertainty lingering at the edge of her thoughts. Had she chosen well? Was this what Jae needed, or was she still holding onto Jason's past self?

Her fingers drummed lightly against the wheel as she reached a stoplight. The air outside shimmered in the late afternoon heat, a faint mirage rippling over the asphalt. She exhaled, adjusting her grip. She had always prided herself on being the steady one, the one who did not falter. But today was pushing her limit farther than anything so far.

She thought back to all the minor changes she had noticed in Jae this morning, and everything this had revealed about him. About them.

She wanted to support her spouse in ways she had not before. She wanted to do better than she had so far.

As she pulled into their driveway, Lisa caught sight of Jae moving around in the kitchen through the window. The sight was reassuring—something normal. A small smile tugged at her lips. No matter what changed, her partner was still the same. And seeing her hyper focus on something mundane like cooking? This cleared up any doubts in her mind about who this was.

Although she had to admit. Cooking, in itself, was a new and unexpected development. But what was telling was not the specific interest, but the intensity. She had recognised it in her eyes instantly. When she had noticed all the ingredients and came to the realisation she could bake something. And then had simply set her mind to it.

That had been her partner, one hundred percent.

Lisa grabbed her bags and headed inside.

"Honey, I'm home!"

A pleasant aroma of baked cookies greeted her. "Welcome back!"

Jae, still in nothing but a T-shirt and oven mitts, opened the oven door and bent down to extract a batch of cookies.

Lisa snickered as she dropped her bags in the recliner in the living room. "Honey, your tail's lifting your shirt again…"

Jae jerked upright. She yelped a startled and mortified sound, most likely at the thought of once again having flashed her wife. The movement was too sudden, her hip bumping into the oven door with a dull thud. As she pulled the tray of cookies out, the impact jarred her grip, and the platter slipped entirely from her mitts.

Lisa's breath caught as she saw it—the tray and cookies tumbling in a perfect arc through the air. Despite everything slowing down to a soundless slow-motion, there was no time to react, no way to stop it before they scattered across the floor—Still, she forced her body forward, even though it felt like running through molasses.

But then she noticed something odd and nearly tripped, losing almost all of her velocity. The tray of cookies was not falling anymore.

Instead, it hovered in mid-air, perfectly balanced, as if an invisible force had caught it at the last second. In a posture of disbelief, Jae remained stock-still, her limbs frozen in the awkward position of her failed attempt. Her wide eyes stared at the floating tray, both open hands a silent plea.

Lisa's mind scrambled for an explanation. Somehow, there was a metal tray of cookies floating in her kitchen, threatening to spill at any moment, but magically held in place.

Jae, her breath uneven, her whole body frozen in fear and awe, finally whispered, "Help… I don't know how long…"

Lisa rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a dishcloth, using it to steady the tray still suspended in the air. She attempted to move it toward the wire cooling rack, but the tray resisted, shifting sluggishly as though bound by invisible strings, its motion reluctant and unsteady.

Then, without warning, Jae's legs buckled, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Lisa's chest clenched like a vice. "Jae!"

What happened? Is she okay?

She almost let go of the stubborn tray, but the unseen force holding it dissipated instantly, allowing Lisa to finally move it. She practically tossed it onto the kitchen island. Without even thinking, Lisa swiftly turned off the oven and shut the door, ensuring there was no lingering heat hazard.

With the immediate danger taken care of, she knelt beside Jae, heart pounding against her ribs in panic.

Concern tightened in her chest as she took in her spouse's pale face and trembling form. Jae's breaths came shallow and uneven, her body slack as though drained of all energy. Her golden fins fluttered weakly.

She's not dying, is she? No, Lisa! Get it together.

Lisa's medical instincts kicked in—this looked like a sudden drop in blood pressure, like hypoglycaemia. A sharp expenditure of energy leaving her completely spent. Lisa quickly pressed two fingers to Jae's wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was faint, rapid, and weak. Her skin was clammy, and Lisa could see the subtle trembling in her fingertips.

She needed to get Jae's blood sugar back up—and fast.

Her gaze snapped to the counter, where the cookies sat cooling. Not ideal, but they were packed with sugar and carbs—exactly what Jae needed.

Without hesitation, Lisa scooped Jae up into her arms, carefully shifting her weight as she carried her to the recliner in the living room. She felt light as a feather, her body drained of all strength, making Lisa's heart clench with concern. With one elbow, she nudged the shopping bag full of clothes off the armchair and onto the carpeted floor. She gently settled Jae down, adjusting her position so her legs remained elevated.

Lisa brushed damp strands of hair from Jae's forehead, watching as her spouse weakly blinked up at her. "I've got you," she whispered, her voice soft but steady. "Just rest, okay? We'll figure this out."

She hurried back to the kitchen, grabbing a mug and filling it with warm tap water. She scooped in a tablespoon of honey and stirred it quickly, then returned to Jae's side.

"Jae, stay with me," Lisa murmured, gently tilting Jae's head up. "I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me?"

Jae's eyelids fluttered as she instinctively parted her lips. Lisa brought the cup to her mouth and very delicately helped her drink a small amount. Her swallowing reflex was sluggish, but she managed. Lisa stayed patient, letting her take slow, careful sips.

After she had emptied the cup, Lisa adjusted Jae's position and covered her with a throw blanket to keep her warm.

Lisa returned to the kitchen, filling the electric kettle with water and setting it to boil. While she waited, she used a spatula to plop the raspberry swirl cookies off the baking sheet and onto the wire rack so they could cool faster.

She grabbed one of them, testing it for heat. Still too warm, but not burning. She blew on it to help cool it faster, then nibbled, curious.

Mmm, okay, so Jae wasn't kidding, she could bake!

The swirl was surprisingly flavourful—soft, structured, and most importantly, packed with sugar.

Lisa took out a plastic tray, setting two mugs on it. She gently placed a lemon-ginger tea bag into each.

Five minutes later, when the electric kettle turned itself off with a soft click, she poured the boiling water over the tea bags and added a spoonful of sugar to both. She grabbed a small plate, stacked a few still-warm swirls onto it, and carefully carried everything back to the living room.

She nudged an ottoman closer and sat down beside Jae, who struggled to open her eyelids halfway. "…Hey."

Lisa smirked softly, setting the tray down within easy reach. "Hey, lovely. How are you feeling?"

Her eyelids fluttered closed again, as if even keeping them open was a struggle. "Like… I just ran a marathon," she breathed.

Lisa chuckled, picking up a cookie from the plate. "Well, lucky for you, you've got fuel waiting for you." She gently broke off a piece and held it near Jae's lips. "Here, you made these. Might as well enjoy them."

Jae barely stirred at first, but at the scent of warm cinnamon and sugar, her lips parted slightly. Lisa eased the bite into her mouth, watching as her wife chewed weakly before a small, contented sigh escaped her.

"Mmm… they's good," Jae murmured.

Lisa grinned. "I was going to tell you that myself, but I figured you'd need proof." She tore off another piece and popped it into her own mouth. "Honestly? These are very tasty. You've outdone yourself."

A tired but pleased hum vibrated in Jae's throat. Lisa reached over, brushing the back of her fingers along Jae's cheek. "You scared me, you know that?"

Jae cracked one eye open. "Sorry… guess I overdid it."

Lisa let out a sigh, her smile turning softer. "Yeah, you did. And I'm not letting you push yourself like that again. Not until we understand what you just did there."

Her spouse swallowed the last bit of cookie Lisa had given her and exhaled slowly, as though the reassurance was settling something deep inside her. Lisa reached toward the recliner's side, pulling up one of the shopping bags she had pushed aside earlier.

"But before that," she said, reaching into the bag, "I got you something. It might help with the tail incidents."

Jae's eyes drifted open as Lisa carefully unfolded a navy blue dress, holding it up so the soft fabric caught the light. "Figured you might want something comfortable. And, well, it just felt like you."

Her partner stared at the dress, her expression unreadable at first, then slowly melting into something vulnerable, something deep. "Lisa…"

Lisa leaned in, squeezing Jae's free hand. "You don't have to wear it now. Just… whenever you feel ready. No rush, no pressure."

Jae's fingers weakly brushed against the fabric, her throat working as if struggling for words. Then, finally, she whispered, "Thank you."

Lisa had been ready for hesitation, even resistance. But what she saw instead was something else—something deeper, more open.

She squeezed the small, scaled hand gently before bringing the dress closer, within reach. "Get some rest, okay? I'll be right here."

Jae nodded weakly before shifting slightly. She closed her eyes again, one hand holding the dress tightly against her chest, and dozed off.

Lisa sat next to her, watching her steady breathing, the fluttering of her fins. She noticed for the first time the length of her lashes. She never let go of Jae's other hand.

About ten minutes later, Jae opened her eyes again. "Did I… just fall asleep?"

Lisa smiled warmly, tucking a silver strand behind a fin. "Just a short while. Your body needed it. I can't imagine the amount of calories you're burning right now just to support your transformation."

"I'm sorry…"

She shook her head, slowly. "For what? For being adorable?"

That made her chuckle.

Lisa squeezed her hand. "I'm serious. How many people can claim their husband turned into an adorable dragon princess?"

Jae laughed this time. "Sounds like the name of one of those shoujo manga you like to read."

It was Lisa's turn to burst out laughing. "You know that I'd totally read that!"

With a soft sigh, Jae reached for the shirt she had been wearing, hesitated for a moment. She nodded toward the dress. "Help me change?"

Lisa blinked, caught by surprise. "You sure?"

She shook her head. "No, but I want to try… the dress you got me."

So she let Lisa help her out of her ill-fitting shirt-turned-nightshirt. And then, almost as easily, she slipped into the dress instead. The material draped naturally over her, made of fabric softer than any of Jason's clothes ever had.

Lisa smiled, brushing a silver stray strand of hair from Jae's face. "Looks good on you."

Before Jae could respond, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. Lisa's brows furrowed in confusion.

Who could it be?

She stood, careful not to disturb Jae, and walked to the door. She peered through the peephole.

Her first thought was how the stranger looked out of place—too hesitant for a delivery, too formal for a neighbour, too innocent for a door-to-door worker. Then her gaze drifted to the bouquet of peonies in their hands and the luxury electric car by the curb. Then she noticed the driver waiting inside, and suddenly, it clicked.

Rich, young and with a chauffeur. Could it really be?

"I think it's one of your students."

Lisa's stomach twisted slightly—one of them had put the pieces together. The news, the sudden changes, the way Jason had seemed different just the day before.

Lisa exhaled and glanced over her shoulder at the living room. Thankfully, the recliner's back was facing the living room window, so she was out of sight. "What do you want to do?"

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