"Hey, are you okay?" A somewhat familiar voice called out.
James peeled his eyes open and looked up. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as just a foot from his face was Simone Dietz. The sexy swimming prodigy that had won his university many trophies.
"Hey, Siobhan (Shiv-awn). Are you alright?" The name caught his attention. It was important, though how he couldn't remember. He felt his mouth open with his action and...
"Thanks, Simone. I must have tripped on a loose cobblestone or something, can you give me a hand?" He started reaching for her hand but froze. That wasn't his voice. The voice that had come out of his mouth was deep, seductive, and sultry. Most critically, female. And with an accent. Though James couldn't place it yet.
Panicking he grabbed the hand pulling himself up. Marveling at how easy it was. Maybe he was stronger, it must have worked....
Now standing he felt an unfamiliar jostle. Looking down with wide eyes, he spied two large breasts. They looked a bit bigger than the ones only a few feet away attached to Simone. They also looked perkier. Why were they on his chest, certainly they....
His thinking was cut off as one of his hands brushed inquisitively against his new chest. Sparking a jolt of warmth down his spine and a breathy gasp. He idly remembered how halfway through the smutty book with the red-head she was forced to drink a potion that made her more sensitive and horny. But no! FOCUS!
James started panicking. WTF was going on he had tits and...
"Siobhan? You look alarmed. Do you need me to take you to the nurse? Or we can skip our next class and we can hang out. Maybe that would make you fee...." Simone's voice faded away as James sprinted. He needed to be alone something bad happened. He fucked up. The warnings were right.
Jogging into his dorm building, he was thankful it was next to the central courtyard. He tried to ignore the bouncing sensation on his chest. Or how as he started panting it kind of sounded like the panting of a woman who was getting fuc...
He shook away the thought. Ignoring the hair brushing the back of his neck. Ignoring the unfamiliar locomotion of his lower body. Ignoring the question rising in his mind of how could he possibly be so agile in a completely foreign body. Ignoring how the door to his...
No, he couldn't ignore this. It was the whole point. It was his destination. Reaching for his pockets he realized he didn't have any. He couldn't see the front of his lower body garment because of his large jugs but he could see and feel the sides and the rear if he twisted.
His hands slid over his rear. Eyes watching as he stood half twisted around. He could feel and see how much his ass stuck out, it was almost unnatural but it looked perfectly in place. Not something of note, except for how sexy it was. What he meant was that thinking of plastic surgery, which for 99.999% of women would be the only way to get an ass 75% as good. In the abstract plastic surgery was the only way, no one could have such a round, perky, toned ass and such perfect tits without some. But the thought slipped away. All-natural was all that he could settle on.
He blinked, now aware of his new lengthy eye-lashes. He had to pay attention. Find his keys. But they wouldn't be in his pants for he wasn't wearing any. He was wearing sporty short shorts. The kind that was a solid color with white trim. The kind would be against every high school dress code, except for how many girls wore them on the hottest days in school. Except these were shorter and tighter. They were burgundy, with white trim. They were so short that an inch or so of the bottom of his ass was exposed. So tight that they didn't hide his moderate hourglass body, ending just below his belly button. So tight they would be painted on if not for the few ruffles in the fabric. He could feel them tight against his front, and tight over his rear. In fact, they dug in slightly into his asscrack.
Smacking his cheek, he swung his backpack over his shoulder. He needed the keys and no way they would be in the non-existent pockets in the barely-there shorts. Or the tight cropped short sleeve t-shirt that stretched tightly over his tits and was still tight at the waist hugging his figure before terminating high enough to show his fit and sexy stomach.
Bending down, he tried to ignore thinking about how much more of his behind would be on display as he instinctively opened a secret pocket on the side of the backpack, pulling out an unfamiliar keychain with a familiar key.
Standing up from his crouch was shockingly easy. He quickly slipped into his dorm. Ignoring the common area.
Slinging his backpack onto the chair the same way he had all year he walked past the floor-length mirror before pausing. He took several steps backward stopping when his new body appeared in the mirror.
Dear god!
