Mike yawned and stretched, without opening his eyes.
The morning light filtered through his window shades and danced in strange, warm patterns across Mike's slumbering body.
Normally he had no problem getting out of bed and getting going in the morning.
Today, for some reason, was different.
Mike had slept uneasily all night – physically exhausted, but mentally tormented with strange worry and regret over the unfortunate incident he'd endured yesterday with that crazy, old woman.
“Michael, get up!” called out the distant voice of his mother from beyond the bedroom door. “You've got school in an hour. I'm not going to ask you again: get up!”
Mike mumbled an incoherent reply into his pillow, but faithfully acquiesced to the orders of She Who Must Be Obeyed and rolled his body out of the soft, warm bed.
As soon as his feet hit the bedroom floor, Mike knew something was wrong!
There was something stuck to his bare torso. It felt like somebody has glued a pair of small beach balls to his chest as some kind of joke.
“What the hell?” Mike mumbled, trying in vain to bat the swollen round orbs off his body.
There weren't coming on.
Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Mike snapped his attention to full alertness and looked down at the problem area: he had breasts.
Huge breasts.
Ginormous, porn star breasts!
They were perfectly round spheroids of flesh dangling bouncefully from his bare chest, with pert fully erect nipples arising from the midst of wide, dark red areolae.
“Boobs? Why do I have boobs?! What the hell is happening to me. I've become a chick!” Mike whispered to himself. Only the words that came from his lips didn't utilize his normal, masculine voice. Instead, the voice that emerged was a sultry, sweet, seductive feminine voice – the lilting cooing of a mature woman trying hard to sound sexy and more youthful than she is.
Mike dashed across to the room to the mirror hanging on the back of his bedroom door. His jaw dropped in shock and horror as he gazed upon the reflected image of a middle-aged woman dressed in nothing but his old, flannel pajama pant bottoms. She had shoulder length, strawberry blond hair, the aforementioned mammoth sized breasts, and smoothly feminine skin on her slender arms and exposed abdomen. Her face bore just the faintest hints of crow's feet and smile lines testifying to her age being a bit more than her surgically enhanced bosom tried to suggest.
“Michael are you up yet?” called mom from the other side of the door Mike stood topless in front of. “What's going on in there?”
The handle of the door started to turn and Mike's heart leaped into his throat in panic.
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