The Beauty Parlor had never tried to hide what it was.

On Daffodil Lane, nestled between a bakery and a flower shop, stood a small white-and-pink building with oversized windows. Sunshine poured through the front glass every morning, illuminating the spotless interior---white tile floors, pastel walls, and mirrors framed with pearl-shaped bulbs. Above the door hung the sign: THE BEAUTY PARLOR

The word BEAUTY PARLOR shone proudly, while THE sat in small, modest letters. The locals all called it Grandpa Munster’s Beauty Parlor for Men, because everyone knew exactly who ran it and exactly what happened inside.

Grandpa wasn’t ashamed. Not even close.

He had come into existence in his current form by accident---one part brilliant, eccentric sorcerer and one part Marilyn Munster, his sweet, fashion-loving granddaughter. They had been fused together in a magical mishap involving a bubbling cauldron, three unlabelled potions, and Marilyn interrupting him to say that dinner was ready.

The explosion had knocked the castle lights out for hours, and when they returned, the two of them had become one person: Grandpa’s mystical curiosity mixed with Marilyn’s love of beauty, kindness, pastel colors, and transforming the world into something brighter.

So Grandpa, now Grandpa Marilyn opened the Beauty Parlor---part salon, part magic studio---where men could walk in as themselves and walk out as something new.

Here, the menu was simple: Personality. Body. Apparel. Transform one, two, or all three for the same price.

And every transformation---whether requested or resisted---was delivered with kindness, glitter, and Grandpa’s signature brand of magical flair.

---

The bell above the door chimed softly.

A timid man stepped inside, shoulders hunched, eyes flicking nervously from mirror to mirror. He wore jeans, a pale button-down, and the anxious look of someone who almost turned around twice before entering.

Grandpa beamed. “Welcome, sweetheart,” he sang, guiding him forward with a warm hand. “What can Grandpa do for you today?”

The man swallowed. “I...I just wanted to feel...better about myself,” he whispered. “But...I don’t really know what I want.”

Grandpa winked. “Perfect. You leave it to me.”

Ten minutes later, while Grandpa was humming and the transformation shimmered with soft golden light, the door slammed open so hard the bell nearly flew off.

---

“HEY!” a loud voice boomed. The newcomer stomped inside---a thick-shouldered, red-faced man with fire in his eyes. “Where’s Kyle? What are you doing to him? This place is a scam and---"

But he stopped when he saw his friend.

Kyle was standing in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection in stunned, breathless silence.

His body was smaller now, sculpted into a softly curving, naturally pretty feminine form. His features were delicate, his skin smooth as silk. His clothing shimmered and reshaped into a lovely feminine version of what he’d worn: the button-down now a cute pastel blouse, the jeans transformed into a flattering skirt with embroidered details.

His makeup was gentle. Fresh. Soft.

He looked...beautiful.

The belligerent friend pointed at him. “What---what did you do? Kyle, we’re getting you out of here---”

Grandpa lifted a brow. “Oh, don’t fuss. You barged in here full of anger, and around here, that’s practically a request for service.”

“What? No---hey---DON’T---”

But it was already happening.