Lisa stumbled in to her room. Her head was still swimming around with branching memories. She was Lisa, she knew that much. Right? But then why was Joseph's past so... dominant? Remembering things as him... those same moments in her own past were blurry, hard to recall. It was as if she were trying to remember a dream in the fleeting moments after waking up. She looked around her room. It was much the same as his room. It seemed being a different sex hadn't accounted for much of a change in taste as Joseph. While the furniture itself was superficially different, everything was funnily enough arranged nearly in the same place. She even recalled having the same poster for Metal Gear Solid 3 tacked to the wall, albeit on the opposite side of the room.

She opened her closet to reveal the full-length mirror framed against the inside of the door. There she got the first good look at herself since her mishap with the Time Window. She'd almost expected to see the phantom reflection of Joseph looming over her, staring down at her through the glass. Instead, there she was. She was somewhat petite, but well within the standards of normality. Her face was there, as it had always been. It was round and soft, with warm ivory skin, brown hair spilling down to her back and a light wisp of freckles bridging across her nose. Her large eyes were a striking bright green, a feature she remembered retaining as Joseph. That one familiar feature made her heart take a leap in her chest. Her mother's eyes, whether she was Lisa or Joseph. She was told on more than a few occasions that she looked just like her mother at her age, even though she took after her dad when it came to most other things. At least, that was how she recalled it now. She placed her hand against the cold glass, staring in to the only features of her body that didn't make her mind quake with unfamiliarity. Why did it feel so wrong? Why, instead of recognizing her reflection did she feel like she was staring at a stranger? Her eyes eventually parted from those of her reflection, and sank downward. Her vision traced past her neck, down to her most prominent feminine features. Those two swollen orbs, once a feature which elicited an admittedly vain sense of pride now made her break out in to a cold sweat. She took a hold of the hemline of her shirt and her heartbeat quickened. Why would it though? They were her breasts. She'd seen them every morning. Why was she so afraid to look at them now?

She took in a deep breath and pulled her shirt off in one clean motion. For some reason she was surprised to find her hefty bust was clad snugly in a plain white bra. Of course they were. She'd but it on that morning as she did every morning; though she had to strain to remember doing it. She fumbled with the clasp in the back, growing increasingly frustrated. She'd worked the clasp every day for the better part of a decade, why was it suddenly so hard for her to undo it? Growing increasingly angry, she finally just bent forward and grabbed either end of the garment, pulling until the clasp broke. She had other bras. They weren't that expensive. The restrictive garment finally lifted away from her skin, and her breasts swung free beneath her chest. She teetered forward as the alien weight swung beneath her bent torso. Placing her hand on the closet door to steady herself, she stood up to lay her eyes on her reflection again. There they were; in all their soft, curvy glory. Two circular mounds of flesh tipped with pink nipples that had stiffened on contact with the cool air of her bedroom. For a moment she'd almost deluded herself in to thinking the reflection was a lie... but looking down, she confirmed that yes; they were perfectly attached to her girlish frame. Her mind spun again as she realized that they had always been there. That weight wasn't alien; it was familiar. They had been a part of her for most of her life. There was nothing wrong.

But they felt wrong.

She brought a shaking hand up to her right breast and gently cupped it. It was heavier than she would have thought they'd be as Joseph. Despite its size, the flesh of her breast sported a youthful firmness that offered a gentle resistance as she squeezed her fingers in to it. While it felt good having her breast softly squeezed, it didn't elicit the kind of pleasure that internet porn had told Joseph women apparently felt at the slightest touch. That didn't come until she brought her prying fingers up to her nipple. Simply rolling it between her thumb and forefinger sent a wave of sensation through her body that shot goose-flesh up her spine and made her loins warm. Her conflicting familiarity with her body tore away her inoculation to the sensations playing with it caused.

She pushed the growing temptation to the back of her head as he attention returned to the woman in the mirror, awkwardly holding up one breast as she stared back at Lisa. She dropped her hand and her breast jiggled back in to its natural place. The sensation of her breast's gentle bounce made her shudder, which didn't exactly help. She slid her hands across her flat, trim stomach and eventually brought them to the waistline of her jeans. She'd done her exploring from the waist-up. It was time to go lower. She rubbed her legs together, instinctively expecting to feel her testicles being pushed out from between them. Instead she felt a vacuous emptiness between her legs. Gripping the waistline of her jeans and her panties together, she pushed both garments down together, exposing her sex without the frustration than it had taken to free her breasts. She slowly stepped out of her pooled pants and beheld her naked form. Her thighs and backside were curvaceous in a way that perfectly complimented her weighty breasts. Her sex rested between her legs, beneath her meticulously trimmed mons. She had to touch it; had to know that it was there, that it was real. Just once. Her eager hand gently circled around the lips of her sex. Once. Twice. Three times. Her whole body was tingling, both from the sensations coursing through her body and the anticipation she was feeling in her rapidly beating heart. She felt like a teenager exploring her own body again, yet for the first time. This was probably the least appropriate time to be playing with herself, yet her hands couldn't stop. Be it from her own pleasure or Joseph's driving fascination with this strange new form, her hands continued to explore.

She slowly backed up, leaving the confines of her closet for the open space of her bedroom. She let herself fall backwards on to her bed. The gentle bounce of her body on the mattress made her breasts jiggle again. It felt good to let them gently bounce against her chest. She ran her hands explore her body again. Running her fingers through her hair. Caressing her cheeks. Kneading her breasts. Moving lower. It was as if she were laying back to let Joseph explore his new reality. Letting her own unfamiliarity with her body make it a new and exciting frontier again. She brought her fingers down to the edge of her smooth lower lips. This was it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, sliding her fingers slowly in to-

The sound of the front door opening downstairs caused Lisa to catapult up to a sitting position, her hands flying away from her sex as if she'd been caught masturbating in a public bathroom. She could hear the tip-tap of high-heels on the kitchen tiles directly below her bedroom. The thump of a heavy work bag in one of the chairs. Her mother was home. The realization suddenly sent her mind in to the worst hurricane of all. Conflicting memories argued with each-other  so loud that Lisa was almost tempted to scream. Suddenly everything came to a halt as a single revelation settled at the forefront of her attention. She opened her mouth and spoke two words that Joseph thought he would never hear himself say.

“Mom's alive.”