Our TG Caption

The day-to-day operations of the lab tended to be mind-numbingly boring, as Gina discovered in the weeks following their opening. The monotony of maintaining temperamental equipment and dodging calls from collection agencies was starting to wear on her; the only real diversion came from the occasional curious customer who wandered in off the street. Finally, they had their first *real* scheduled appointment, and Gina was determined to impress. She needed clients, and badly—the business was bleeding money, and she’d had more than enough reminders of her lacking marketing instincts.

Jake and Lucy arrived promptly at noon, a typical middle-class suburban couple. They were brushing up against middle age, carrying a few wrinkles and a little softness around the edges, but still far from unattractive. Past their prime? Maybe. But not unsalvageable. They had already paid the $7,500 upfront for the full package, and Gina was more than happy to oblige.

“Our neighbors had nothing but good things to say about this place,” Jake explained as Gina ushered them toward the Treatment Chamber. “We figured we’d treat ourselves to something special.”

“Jake is always spoiling me,” Lucy laughed, giving her husband a playful tap on the arm.

“Anything for my special lady!” Jake leaned in for a quick kiss, then gestured gallantly toward the chamber. “Would you like to go first, hun?”

“Of course. Ladies first!” Lucy giggled as Gina opened the heavy, sterile door and ushered her inside.

Once she was secure in the Testing Chamber, Gina joined Jake in the shielded Control Room. She inhaled slowly, preparing to launch into her usual spiel: the theory of alternate realities, the delicate nature of her invention, the carefully chosen words that set the stage for the inevitable question every client asked.

“So… you can do *anything*?” Jake finally said, eyes flicking between his wife behind the glass and the humming control computer beside them.

Gina’s lips twitched into a practiced smile. “Anything you can imagine,” she replied smoothly, hands already dancing across the yellowed keyboard as diagnostic text flickered across the CRT.

Jake hesitated, the weight of possibility clearly sinking in. Clients often froze like this, stumbling over their imagination. Gina had gotten good at nudging them.

“Here’s a thought experiment,” Gina offered lightly. “What if Lucy had never become the woman you know today? What if, instead, it was her prom night—eighteen years old, fresh-faced and glammed-up, an Iowa girl in all her small-town sparkle?”

The machine thrummed to life. Lucy’s outline rippled, and suddenly her middle-aged frame slimmed and shrank. Wrinkles vanished. The soft flab melted into smooth, taut youth. Her hair grew long and glossy, pulled back into a carefully curled style that gleamed beneath the fluorescent light. A corsage bloomed at her wrist, and her clothes rewove into a shimmering gown: modest in cut at first glance, but with a daring slit up one side and a low back that hinted at more confidence than innocence. Rhinestone cross earrings dangled from her lobes, a subtle nod to her churchgoing roots. Glossy lips and careful eyeliner completed the look, her makeup both wholesome and just a little too perfect for a pastor’s daughter. She looked every inch the archetype of a Midwestern prom queen—equal parts corn-fed charm, Sunday-school polish, and a risqué edge of rebellion sneaking through.

Her history rewrote itself in a flash. Lucy was no suburban wife, no mother, no middle-aged woman at all. She was eighteen, still living in Iowa with her parents, counting down the hours until graduation and half-whispered prayers gave way to college and freedom. Her world was Instagram posts, small-town gossip, youth group mixers—and the illicit thrill of sneaking past curfew after prom. Jake was a complete stranger to her now—he might as well have been any other middle-aged man gawking at her through the glass.

A different Lucy stood in the chamber. Young. Vain. Earnest. Entirely disconnected from the life Jake had shared with her. He blinked rapidly, his breath catching in his throat. This wasn’t his wife. This was someone else altogether.

Gina leaned back, tone calm, almost clinical. “A fair warning: once she exits the chamber, she won’t be *here* anymore. An eighteen-year-old Lucy doesn’t belong in this office, or in your house. She’ll be pulled back into her proper place—her family’s home in Iowa. That’s the way reality corrects itself.”

Jake’s face twisted, part awe, part horror. His lips parted, but no words came. For a moment, Gina almost pitied him. Clients rarely asked for transformations that erased their entire lives together—but then again, curiosity often drove people further than they expected.

“Feelings of loss or confusion are perfectly normal,” Gina said gently, watching Jake’s knuckles whiten as he gripped the desk. “This is a glimpse, not a theft. The Lucy you know is still very much in there… should you want her back.”

Jake exhaled, his voice low and uncertain. “I… I don’t even know what to think.”

Gina only smiled, fingers still poised over the keyboard. She had seen that look before. It always came down to the same choice.