”Veronica laughed quietly to those words. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Okay well I’m heading out. I'll back in a few hours,” she said with a...smile. Two seconds later she was out the door, keys in hand.Greg worked at an auto-body shop as an auto-body technician. Only 18 years old, he was doing well for himself. He already had a career, his bills were paid and he had me; his live-in girlfriend. He was tall, about 6’2”, with blue-green eyes and sandy brown hair. He was about average build with. I leftthe machine flashing and whirring to make a salad in the laboratorykitchen.I had loved salads even in my unmodified past, but my reshuffledmorphology adored them. In my masculine form, a "salad" consisted oflettuce, tomato, and onion. I now couldn't imagine a salad withoutspinach, mushrooms, and red peppers. I'd also lost my taste for onions.Tasting and smelling as a woman has higher highs and lower lows thantasting as a man. I have a much larger array of tastebuds now, anddetect. More

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