Richard's reflection in the bathroom mirror was still a shock, even minutes after the transformation. The golden-bobbed woman staring back at him looked nothing like the scrawny, nervous twenty-something who had stumbled into the pharmacy just an hour earlier.

"This is NOT what I meant by confidence!" he shrieked in a surprisingly feminine voice, gesturing wildly at his new curves. The cream-colored top clung uncomfortably to a body that seemed to have materialized overnight, and the miniskirt barely covered what used to be his... well, that was definitely different.

He grabbed the oversized purse that had somehow appeared with his new form---a beige leather satchel that definitely wasn't his style, but which apparently came with the package. The weight of it suggested it was well-stocked, presumably with everything his new identity might need.

Fury propelled him toward the door, his taupe-clad legs carrying him down the apartment steps with a determined clip-clop that echoed through the hallway. He'd give that pharmacy clerk a piece of his mind---and her newly acquired curves would add some heft to his argument.

But halfway down the street, something stopped him. Despite his outrage, he couldn't ignore the fact that people were actually looking at him. Not the usual averted glance of someone trying to avoid eye contact with the awkward, skinny guy. These were appreciative looks, nods of acknowledgment, even a few admiring glances from across the street.

His hand unconsciously moved to his face, feeling the unfamiliar terrain of his new features. Maybe... maybe a little makeup would help? After all, he was still him inside---he should at least look the part if he was going to march back to the pharmacy and demand answers.

Back in his apartment, he dumped the contents of the purse onto his coffee table. Foundation, eyeshadow, mascara---an entire makeup collection lay scattered before him, somehow perfectly suited to his new features. The bottle of foundation even matched his transformed skin tone perfectly, as if the purse had been waiting for him.

As he applied the makeup with surprising natural instinct---apparently some knowledge came with the transformation---Richard caught himself in the mirror again. The woman looking back at him was elegant, sophisticated, and radiating a confidence he'd never felt in his previous form.

"You know what?" he said to his reflection, adjusting the bob cut that framed his new face perfectly. "Maybe this confidence elixir isn't such a bad thing after all."

But the pharmacy definitely still needed to know that their labeling needed some work.

---

Back in his apartment, Richard hurled open his dresser drawers with violent intent, planning to reclaim his old clothes---anything to feel like himself again. But as he dug through what should have been his familiar T-shirts and jeans, he found only garments that seemed tailor-made for his new form: elegant blouses that would complement his transformed figure, perfectly fitted pants that accentuated his new curves, and undergarments that fit as if custom-ordered.

"Are you kidding me?!" he shouted at the drawers, grabbing a silky burgundy blouse that somehow looked like it had been waiting for him. The fabric felt luxurious against his skin, and despite his fury, he couldn't deny that the color brought out the warmth in his transformed complexion.

His anger resurged like a tidal wave. This was all wrong---he wanted his skinny frame back, his ordinary clothes, his regular life. The confidence he was supposed to feel was drowned out by pure, unadulterated rage at being trapped in this body that wasn't his choosing.

Armed with his purse and his fury, Richard marched down to Greenleaf Pharmacy with a purpose that made his heels click authoritatively against the pavement. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, but his newfound height made him feel visible in a way that both thrilled and terrified him.