by D. L. Savage
“So lets start again,” she added, setting down her bowl on the table then sticking out her hand towards me. “I’m Hannah, pleased to meet you.”
“Jacob,” I replied, taking her hand and shaking it. “Pleased to meet you, too.”
“So why are you here, Jacob?” she persisted. “On the trial, I mean. Are you saving up the money for something special?”
“I guess I kind of needed a change of direction,” I explained with a sheepish smile, “and this might give me a chance to take stock and think about what I want to do with my life next.”
“Hey, that’s my story, too,” she laughed. “I’ve been thinking about maybe setting up my own yoga studio once I get out of here.”
“That’s cool,” I smiled.
“You ever try it?”
“Me?” I laughed, shaking my head at the idea of doing something so hippyish and girly. “No way. I’m more of just a regular cross-training kinda guy.”
But it seemed as if Hannah couldn’t see what I found funny about the idea. “Honesty, Jacob. You should. It’s really good for toning the body and it makes you feel so much better. You wanna try some this afternoon after lunch?”
“Sure, why not,” I smiled, figuring what the hell.
At least it might distract me for a while from my worries about my shrinking dick ...
6
“Okay, so this move is called downward dog,” Hannah announced later that same afternoon, “and what you want to do is from our current position you need to thrust your butt back into the air like so, see?”
I watched on as Hannah did just that, rising up from all fours, her legs spread wide apart as she thrust her ass right back towards my face.
“Now you try!”
I was dimly aware of what she was saying, but as my vision focused on the place between her legs, I saw something that gave me pause.
No ... It couldn’t be ...
“Hell-o-oh? Earth to Jacob?”
I snapped back to attention, muttering, “Uh, sorry,” as I too tried to copy her move, pushing my ass into the air behind me. But my mind was still focusing on what I’d seen: a distinct bulge pressing out from beneath the stretchy black fabric of her yoga pants. A bulge that looked a hell of a lot like a ...
“Jacob, are you listening at all to what I’m saying or have you totally fried your brain with all those stupid video games?”
Again I tried to snap back to attention, but this time my eye got caught by the dark brown fuzz that populated Hannah’s underarms as she instructed me on the latest move I was supposed to be copying: reaching up onto tiptoes and thrusting my arms into the air like I was holding onto a giant beach ball.
Again, I tried to do as she wanted, telling myself that a lot of chicks didn’t shave their armpits, but by now I’d noticed the fact that she seemed to have a wispy dark moustache and a slight bump of an Adam’s apple, too. It was very faint but definitely enough to notice if you really paid attention. On top of that, her husky voice seemed to be getting lower by the hour, while I swore too that her breasts had definitely gotten a touch smaller.
Meanwhile, my own pecs had taken on a strangely raw tenderness and I was sure that I could feel my nipples tingling, perhaps even aching slightly, while my cock had remained totally limp all day, despite the many times I’d checked out Hannah’s incredible ass in her tight black yoga pants.
No fucking way, I thought, as it began to dawn on me just what those mysterious drugs were doing to us both ...
* * *
That night after dinner, I excused myself, saying I was going to grab a shower and an early night. It was all true, just like the previous night the drugs seemed to be coming on strong and fast now that it was evening – quickly wiping me out in a wave of tiredness, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I fell fast asleep.
And I did plan on having a shower too, but my reasons weren’t just for cleanliness’ sake ...
You see, throughout the day, I’d felt my chest growing larger, almost as if my pectoral muscles were actually swelling, not to mention becoming more and more tender with each passing hour.
So that night, I knew it was finally time to give my body a thorough examination, to see if my growing suspicions about this fucked up trial were confirmed.
Once I’d shut the door to my room, I headed into my bathroom and set the shower running, then began to get undressed, watching myself in the mirror as I did so, wondering if it was just my imagination or if perhaps my face looked a touch more ... feminine.
Were my eyes a touch larger, for instance? And were my lips perhaps a little fuller, too? Did my chin and brow look somewhat smaller? I lifted a hand to my adam’s apple, pressing my fingers against my neck, but no matter how hard I pushed I could hardly make out the bump of it at all. My cheeks felt practically smooth, too. Being blonde, my facial hair was kind of downy at the best of times, but even so, now it seemed pretty much transparent, leaving nothing but pale baby soft skin in its wake.
But when I pulled off my t-shirt, that’s when I got the biggest shock of all. Because my tender aching pecs couldn’t even realistically be called ‘pecs’ anymore. Nope. They were tits. There was no other word for them.
I felt a fresh twist of nerves as I turned my attention to my sweatpants and boxer shorts, sucking in a deep shaky breath then pushing them quickly down around my ankles in one go, the way you might rip off a band-aid.
And when I finally allowed myself to peer between my thighs, my horror increased yet further. Because it seemed that my cock and balls had shrunk so small that they were barely visible. And when I tried to actually take a hold of my dick and pull it upwards, to my shock and horror the skin on the underside actually seemed to be fused to my scrotum.
What the fuck?!
I shut off the shower without even stepping under it, stumbling back unsteadily into my room, my mind whirring too much to even think about washing myself.
“Everything okay, Jacob?”
The soft female voice caught me off guard and for a moment I thought I might even be hallucinating. But then I remembered what Kate had told me about the intercom system.
“What’s happening to me?” I asked, each word a struggle to say aloud, my body flooding with heavy waves of tiredness.
“Just rest,” she replied, “and let the drugs do their work overnight. We can talk about what’s happening to you in the morning ...”
I tried to speak, but before I could even form one more word I felt another powerful wave of sleepiness, washing over me so powerfully that I actually stumbled.
In fact, I barely had time to make it to the bed before I toppled onto it, passing out in seconds. And just moments before I did, the last thing that flashed through my swirling head was to wonder what the hell I’d look like tomorrow ...
7
The next morning I lurched awake before the morning alarm had even sounded, immediately aware that something was different. My hands shot to my body, checking it over frantically for any new changes, and sure enough it seemed like I’d almost woken up in a whole new body. For a start, my tits had practically doubled in size overnight. I could feel their heavy full weight tugging strangely at my breastbone. And between things got even worse. Because by now my cock had seemingly disappeared altogether, leaving practically trace behind other than a tender little nub and below it a warm, wet slit right where my balls used to be, nestled in a fuzz of hair.
I felt my stomach churning with queasy dread, my mind spinning with imagined news articles about some poor sucker who signed up for a medical experiment and lost his cock and balls in the process ...
This couldn’t really be happening, could it?
The whole thing felt like some kind of dream – a nightmare even – and I felt my heart beginning to pound and a cold sweat prickle out across my skin as it dawned on me that I might be altered forever, leaving my body totally unrecognizable to me.
From the angry voice booming away from the main living area it seemed as i
f Hannah felt the same way, too. Well, if that low rumble even was Hannah’s voice and not some dude that had somehow broken in during the night.
I pushed myself out of bed, still dressed in my customary uniform of t-shirt and sweatpants, trying to ignore that annoying tugging weight at my chest from my new boobs as I hit the button that opened my door, then stepped out into the main living space – where Hannah seemed to be having a full blown argument with Kate via the intercom system.
But I could hardly even concentrate on what she was saying, the shock and surprise ripping through me as I finally caught sight of her ... or should I say him. Because apart from the long, chestnut brown hair, there was no other trace left that Hannah was anything other than a dude – her chest was totally flat, her arms and shoulders were thick and muscular, her square jaw was speckled with stubble and a prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in her throat as she ranted into the intercom.
“This is crazy, Kate,” she protested, her voice low and deep, “you’ve turned me into a fucking dude. I want you to stop the experiment right this goddamn minute ... You said you could reverse the effects, right?”
“Yes we can reverse them, Hannah,” Kate assured her, still talking in a patient, measured tone despite everything.
“Then what are you waiting for? Reverse them, right the fuck now!” Hannah blared.
“I could do that, Kate said tentatively, but I should remind you of the contract you both signed. The contract that clearly stated that if you quit the trial before the end we wouldn’t be able to pay you any kind of reimbursement for your time ...”
The words hung in the air, both of us staring at each other in that moment as Kate’s words truly sunk in.
“So you’re saying that if we want the cash, we had to stick this situation out until the end of the week?” Hannah asked, her tone now grim and resigned.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Kate replied. “I’m sorry, but it was all set out in the forms you signed. You both agreed to the terms of this trial.”
With a frustrated sigh, Hannah flopped down onto the couch, her meaty thighs spread wide apart. It seemed as if all traces of her ladylike nature had seemingly evaporated overnight. Sure, she was still dressed in the yoga pants and crop top, but now they looked totally absurd – stretched so tight across her muscular chest and thick legs that they looked like they might tear at the seams.
“I guess that’s that,” she said with a resigned sigh.
But as her eyes flicked across to me, I caught her looking me up and down with this odd expression, as if she were looking at me for the first time, a knowing smile breaking out across her rugged, masculine face.
“What?” I asked, confused. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” she grinned. “I was just thinking - we might need to swap room. Or at the very least wardrobes. Just that now you’re a chick, those baggy sweatpants really don’t flatter your figure!”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” I shot back, nodding down at the obscenely bulge at her crotch.
“Oh, yeah, right,” she muttered, quickly crossing her legs, obviously unused to having something extra between her legs. And it looked like it was a pretty damn big something extra, too ...
8
So that’s exactly what we did – swapping rooms (and wardrobes) – which meant that just a short while later I found myself staring down at a whole drawer full of Hannah’s panties and sports bras, deliberating on which ones to pick out.
It was so fucking weird. Even though I’d had full permission, I still felt totally creepy, standing there searching through a chick’s underwear, even though I reminded myself that it was all pretty much useless to her, anyway.
Most of all, I hoped that one of the stretchy cotton sports bras might alleviate some of the odd strain that my new breasts were putting on my chest. But just as I was reaching out to take a plain black Calvin Klein number from the drawer, Kate’s familiar voice echoed out from the speaker system, causing me to jump.
“Uh … Jacob?” she said.
“Yeah?” I replied, shocked by how soft and feminine my own voice sounded as it drifted past my lips.
“Don’t you think that perhaps you should take a shower before you put on fresh underwear?”
“Good point,” I admitted with a gentle pang of embarrassment.
“And if I were you,” she added, an odd teasing quality to her voice as she spoke, “I might think about shaving too ...”
My hand moved automatically to my jaw, my brow wrinkling in confusion as my fingers brushed against soft, smooth skin. But a second later I realized that Kate wasn’t talking about my face ...
* * *
I emerged from the bathroom about an hour later in a puff of steam, a fluffy white towel wrapped around my body, which was now shaved smooth from head to toe – or at least I hoped it was. Because it turned out that shaving your legs is fucking difficult.
As I padded once again toward the open drawer, packed full of Hannah’s underwear, I had a newfound respect for girls who could shave their legs silky smooth without either nicking their skin or missing whole patches of hair entirely.
But as I shrugged off the towel and stared down at my bare body, I realized with relief that I’d done a pretty decent job. The oddest thing of all was that now that my body had transformed so much, I didn’t even feel ashamed or embarrassed about getting naked anymore in front of the cameras …
And as I stared down at my slim toned waist, my pert breasts with their small dark nipples, and my thick toned thighs, thighs that framed a plump, freshly shaved pussy, I realized with a shiver of excitement that I might actually be kind of hot for a chick.
I began to root through the bras and panties, trying to find a regular pair of underwear amongst the sea of thongs and g-strings. But it seemed as if that were the only kind of panties that Hannah ever wore, and so with a frustrated sigh I finally picked out a black Calvin Klein thong to match the bra and stepped into it, tugging it gingerly up around my hips.
To my surprise, it was actually kind of comfy. Sure, it rode up between my butt cheeks as I’d expected, but I found I even weirdly enjoyed the sensation and when I snuck a quick glance at myself in the nearby wall-mounted mirror, I felt a rush of excitement when I saw just how fucking hot it made my ass look.
Staring at my butt like that created an unmistakable tingle between my legs too, kind of like a boner but different too; more like a growing ache, a subtle throb, too, and it took all my might to resist the urge to stroke myself there, instead forcing myself to stay focused on the task at hand.
Next I took that black Calvin Klein bra top and pulled it on over my head, letting out a sigh of relief as I felt the stretchy fabric finally take up some of the slack, alleviating the weight of my breasts, holding them tight and snug against my chest.
Then I began searching through the next drawer down, the one that contained all of yoga pants and vests. But just as I was picking out an outfit, Kate’s voice once again interrupted me.
“Hey, Jacob?”
I looked around the room for a half-second, startled, before remembering it was coming from the intercom.
“Yeah?” I asked, confused.
“Why don’t you take a peek in the wardrobe?” she replied. “I think you might find something a little prettier in there.”
“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, taking her advice and striding over to the nearby wardrobe, feeling the thong subtly flossing my butt as I walked.
I pulled open the door and peered inside, noting that Hannah had hung a couple of dresses up – one in pink, the other in black. I instinctively reached for the black one, figuring it would work best with my underwear, lifting it out by its hanger to examine it closer.
It seemed expensively made, with a label I didn’t recognize, and it was cut in what seemed to be a tight style at the top, while it fanned out more from the waist down.
As I stared at it, I found myself growing more and more intrigued
as to what it might look like on my new feminine frame.
“Oh yes,” Kate’s voice chipped in. “You should totally wear that!”
I let out a laugh, shaking my head, amazed at how girly and unprofessional she was being.
But as I turned to the mirror, holding the dress up in front of my skinny body to assess its affect, I felt my mind turning to a brand new thought that took me completely by surprise: I hope Hannah thinks I look pretty ...
9
“Oh these are so much more comfy!” Hannah laughed as she came striding out from her bedroom, shaking her head as she looked down at the baggy sweatpants (which were riding so low I could see the elasticated band of a pair of my underwear beneath). “Feels like I’ve really got some room to breathe, if you know what I mean,” she added with a chuckle as she reached down and took hold of her junk through her pants, giving it a playful jiggle. “So, how did you get on?” she added.
But as her big brown eyes finally flicked over in my direction, I watched as something changed in her face, almost like she was shocked by my appearance.
“Holy shit, Jacob,” she blurted out as she took me in, “you look really ...”
I held my breath, waiting for her to finish the sentence, but to my frustration she didn’t, instead falling silent, a subtle blush rising to her, handsome stubble-flecked face.
“You think that maybe we should use other names now?” I asked curiously, my voice so soft and feminine it took me by surprise practically every time I spoke. “After all, I don’t really look much like a Jacob anymore, do I?”
For some reason, I found myself even giving her a little twirl, wanting to show off my brand new body, loving the way the black dress clung so tightly to my upper half that it showed of my pert new breasts, while the fabric below my waist whooshed out and danced around my thighs as I span. And of course, the snugness of the thong beneath felt like a kinky little secret …