Turn 14 of 19

They dig out old photos of rural Jess and hold them next to the mirror. Side-by-side the difference is shocking: slim light-skinned quiet girl vs thick dark made-up ghetto queen. Jess (almost Sharonda) stares a long time. “That’s not me anymore,” she whispers in the new voice.

Taylor pulled out his phone, scrolling through old photos. He held one up next to Jess's face—rural Jess, slim and light-skinned, in a modest t-shirt and jeans, her face soft and shy.

Jess stared at the photo, then at her reflection in the mirror—thick curves straining against the tight red top, deep brown skin, full lips, long lashes, heavy makeup that seemed melted into her skin. The red stilettos were planted firmly on the stained carpet.

"That's... that's me?" she whispered, but the words came out in a thick Atlanta drawl, her voice lower, smoother, than it had ever been before.

Taylor stared at the side-by-side—the slim, quiet girl in the photo, and the thick, loud, made-up woman in front of him.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed. "What happened to you?"

Jess kept staring at her reflection, at the woman she was becoming. Her new full lips parted slightly. Her long lashes fluttered.

"That's not me anymore," she whispered in the new voice.

And for a moment, the woman in the mirror smiled—a slow, sharp, triumphant smile that didn't look like Jess at all. It looked like Sharonda.

Jess shook her head, trying to clear it. But when she spoke again, it wasn't her voice that came out.

"Bitch, you know that ain't you," she heard herself say. "That's some old shit. You grown now."

She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with panic. But it was too late—the words were out, thick with Atlanta slang, dripping with an attitude that wasn't hers. Not yet.

"What the fuck?" she mumbled behind her hand.

"What did you say?" Taylor asked.

Jess took her hand away from her mouth slowly.

"I said... I'm fine," she said, but the words came out as "I sayin' I'm good, baby."

"Jesus Christ, Jess," Taylor breathed. "You sound just like her."

Jess looked in the mirror again. The woman staring back looked more like Sharonda every second—thick, dark-skinned, heavy breasts straining against the red top, round ass filling out the snakeskin skirt. Full lips parted slightly. Long lashes fluttered.

"I... I'm still in here," Jess whispered, but the reflection just smiled, slow and sure and not at all afraid.

"Ain't no 'I', shawty," the Sharonda in the mirror seemed to say. "It's all me now."

Jess (almost Sharonda) stared at the woman in the mirror, at the thick curves, the deep brown skin, the full lips, the long lashes, the heavy makeup. Her new voice was getting louder, thicker, more confident with every word.

"Damn right it is," she said, and this time, she didn't try to stop herself.

Taylor just stared, eyes wide, as the transformation took its final hold. Jess was still in there, but the wheel had been taken.

"What's happening to me?" Jess whispered in the new voice, but there was no fear in it anymore. Only fascination. Excitement. A low, thrumming hunger.

The woman in the mirror smiled—slow, sharp, triumphant. And Jess smiled back.