You had made many changes by now but you wanted to see how the victim felt so you changed several people and looked into the mind of one of them to see how it felt.
You will see what the victim sees from his perspective from the first person.
You don't know where you are. The taste of cold vanilla enters your mouth. You are looking down and you see the milkshake. You stop sucking and pull back. You see the straw you were sucking, on the top of it is red lipstick. "Why are you drinking someone's milkshake," you think. Then you see your hands, they are wrinkled but they are much smaller than your hands. They also have nail polish on the fingertips. Your arms are also wrinkled. You look down and see you are wearing a shirt with a print on it. You don't know what the print is called and the shirt doesn't look familiar. But that doesn't matter since you see your shirt is pushed up. You quickly brink you hands to the protrusions. You feel your shirt, a stiff bra underneath and the yielding flesh of soft breasts. They are real. Your breasts can feel your hands proving they are yours.
"What are you doing?" a male voice says.
You look up and you see a young man. How old he is exactly you don't know, you would guess about sixteen, but in reality he is eighteen.
You said, " was feeling, I uh, I don't...I think I am, I don't feel well." You remove your hands from your breasts.
"I'm sorry," the boy said. "What is wrong?"
"I don't know." You look down at yourself again. You find that your top, isn't just a top. It's part of a dress. You can see the skirt beneath it now. You don't know why you are wearing a dress. You try and think back what was the last thing you remembered. You were at the clubhouse of your condo. You were playing gin-rummy with some of the men there like you did all the time. You knew who you were, you are Adam Keen. You are eighty-two years old and you live in a senior community. "But I think something is wrong." Your voice is high and raspy, definitely a woman's voice but you really don't notice.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't think so. I should go to the restroom."
"If you say so. Should I order you some water or something?"
"Yes, do that. I'll be right back."
You go to leave your seat at the booth and find a purse to your right. You decide to take it with you. It hurts a bit as you move. This is usual for you. At your age something always hurts. You get out of your seat. Your arms hang loosely from your body except your right hand is carrying the purse. Your skirt drops to your knees. Looking down you see you're wearing some sort of stockings, maybe pantyhose. On your feet are shoes with a rounded tip and a decorative button. They are definitely not male shoes. They have a heel but you can't tell from this perspective how high the heel is. You walk to the restroom. The area is clearly marked. There is the slight pain of age in your back and elsewhere. You assume you don't have a penis, but you try to flex your penis muscles to make sure. You don't feel anything, but you can't be sure, not unless you feel around with your own two hands. But you don't do that in public.
Soon you are at the bathroom doors. You want to go into the mensroom. A room you have always gone, but under the circumstances you decide to go into the ladys instead. Inside you find the mirrors over the sink and look at yourself. You look familiar. The person staring back at you is one of your neighbors at your apartments. You don't know this woman's name but you have seen her around. You look into the purse and find an ID. It says Geraldine Wheeler. The picture is a slightly younger version of what you see in the mirror. The hair isn't as grey in the picture and maybe a little less wrinkled on the face. Looking more closely at the ID it says you are 74-years old and the address is the same as the apartments you are living at although the apartment number is different. You realize that the boy at your table must be Geraldine's son. No he was too young for that, he must be Geraldine's grandson.
But you know you aren't this woman and you don't know what you are doing here or how you got here. Since no one is in the ladysroom, you quickly feel around your body. You establish that you do have breasts and no penis. You also pat your stomach, hips and butt for good measure.
You can't stay here forever and decide to return to the table. You'll say your sick and have to go home. This was true. But before you left the restroom you realized that you did have to go. You went into one of the stalls. You wanted to pull down your pants, but you weren't wearing pants. You lifted the skirt of your dress then pulled down your panties and sat down to do your business. After you were done you pull up your panties (it didn't occur to you to wipe yourself) and walked out of the restroom.
"I have to go," you tell the boy.
"Look, can I call you again?"
"I don't know."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No," you said. But then you looked up at the boy. You hadn't looked at him very well before. He was handsome. Your heart sunk. You had a huge crush on him. You felt it in the very center of your being.
"So I can call you for a second date? Well another first date, I guess."
"Don't you think I'm too old for you?" you said despite how you felt about the boy.
"Too old, I'm two years older than you."
"You are?"
"Yes, you know, I"m going to be eighteen next month."
Thinking on your feet you said, "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling very well. I guess I'm not thinking well either." You then smiled at the boy.
He smiled back and once again your heart soared.
"Can you take me home?"
"Yes, I have my mother's car. I'll drive you back home."
---------------------------------
Returning to your own mind, you found everything delicious. You had made several changes. The old man was put into an old woman's body and then given the emotions of a young girl who was on a first date with a boy she was crushing on. You knew the man would be totally confused and he didn't disappoint you. You thought you should follow him some more and see what happens.
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