“Janice, baby?” say a hoarse, creaky, masculine voice. “You awake, doll?”
Mike clenched his eyes tightly shut and rolled over.
He was exhausted! After that unfortunate incident with the rude, old witch yesterday, Mike had endured a fitful, restless night of worry and guilt. All he wanted was a little shut eye. Who was talking?
“Janice, I'm going to fix some coffee,” the voice said again. “You want some, honey?”
Who the hell is Janice, thought Mike, and why doesn't she answer this old codger so I can go back to sleep?
“Janice, babydoll, I know you're not sleeping,” said the man, in a playfully teasing voice. “What'd I do to earn the silent treatment, sweetie? Ahh, I'll go fix you up a cup of coffee anyway. After the way I saddled up and rode you all last night, I guess I owe you some extra Zzz's and a cup of joe on the side.”
Ewww, thought Mike. Who the hell is Janice, and who is the old man, and why he is talking about mounting Janice in my room?
MY room, thought Mike. What a second, why are there people in my room?
Suddenly Mike was fully alert and snapped up in bed, looking around the room in a panic.
This was not his room. He was in the strange, expensively furnished master bedroom of an older couple. Framed family photos of strangers covered the walls. Finely restored antique furniture sat in the room. The bed itself that Mike now sat in was huge and decked out with soft, satiny sheets.
“I knew a cup of coffee would rouse my sleeping beauty!” said the voice.
Mike slowly turned and looked toward the open door frame of the room. There stood a buck naked senior citizen: a white haired, wrinkled, skinny old man wearing nothing but a faded, blue-black tattoo on his bicep depicting an anchor surrounded by the words USS OKINAWA LPH-3.
The man, in his seventies at the very least, grinned happily at Mike and winked.
“I'll get ya a cup of coffee, babydoll!” he said padding off down the hall, still completely nude.
“Why did he call me Janice?” Mike whispered aloud to himself.
And that's when Mike realized he was really in trouble.
His voice was no longer his own! Instead it was the voice of an older woman: contralto and husky, but undeniably honeyed and feminine.
Mike leaped out of bed in panic and watched helplessly as two enormous orbs of swollen flesh bounced and jiggled about wildly on his chest.
“Holy shit, I've got boobs!” he exclaimed, cupping the two gigantic boobs in his now small, delicate hands.
Mike quickly examined himself and discovered he was just as naked as the strange old man who'd wandered off to fix coffee. But not only was Mike completely nude, he was also utterly female now. Beneath his mammoth sized mammary glands was a smooth belly, a pair of round padded hips, and the biologically female genitalia of a middle aged woman. Mike reached down and gingerly touched his exposed vagina.
“I'm a lady,” he whispered to himself. “What's happened to me? This has got to have something to do with that weird old, mean lady I bumped into yesterday on my bike. Somehow she did this to me!”
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