Alot

Michael's car door slammed with a heavy thud, the scent of leather seats mixing with the lingering musk of his cologne as he peeled out of the driveway. His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel—every nerve in his body hyperaware of the way his slacks strained against his thickening erection, the friction of each turn sending jolts up his spine.

Meanwhile, Felicia twirled in front of her mirror, the silk of her cheer skirt whispering against thighs that suddenly bent in impossible ways. She froze mid-spin as her reflection flickered—just for a second—like a glitch. A slow grin spread as she reached for the perfume bottle on the dresser… only to find her fingers closing around empty air.

Michael gets to the restaurant and meets up with Brittany while Felicia is testing out her new found powers

The engine growled as Michael swung into the restaurant’s valet lane, his polished Oxfords hitting the pavement with a sharp click. His cock twitched again when he spotted Brittany waiting under the awning—her red dress hugging every curve, the slit riding high enough to reveal the lace edge of her stockings. She bit her lip at the sight of him, fingers already reaching to adjust his crooked tie, her nails scraping deliberately against his Adam’s apple. "You’re sweating, Mikey," she purred, pressing close enough for him to feel the heat of her through his suit. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as his trapped erection throbbed in time with his pulse.

Michael swallowed hard, his throat bobbing against Brittany's lingering touch. "I just didn't want to miss our date," he murmured, his voice rougher than intended as his new instincts surged forward. "That's all. Your photo made me really... excited about the night." The words tumbled out before he could stop them, his body moving on autopilot—one large hand settling possessively on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as his other hand brushed a strand of golden hair from her shoulder.

Brittany’s breath hitched, her manicured fingers curling into his lapels.

The two head into the restaurant as Michael continues,to be the perfect boyfriend to Brittany on this date as Michael let's his new body take over for now

The restaurant doors swung open with a whisper of chilled air, and Michael guided Brittany inside with a firm hand at her lower back—his new instincts flaring as he caught the appreciative glances from other men. The rich scent of seared steak and red wine wrapped around them, but all he could focus on was the way Brittany's hips swayed against his palm with each step, the silk of her dress sliding like liquid beneath his fingertips.

Her laugh was a low, throaty sound as she leaned into him, her manicured nails tracing idle circles over his chest. "You're being extra possessive tonight," she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "I like it."

They have a wonderful evening at the restaurant as Michael has almost forgotten that he wasn't like this before today as we cut back to Felicia testing out her new body

The maître d' led them to a secluded corner booth, the candlelight catching the silver threads in Brittany's dress as she slid in first. Michael's knuckles brushed the inside of her knee when he reached for his napkin—an accidental touch that made her breath hitch. His new muscles tensed as her bare thigh pressed flush against his under the table, the heat of her skin searing through his slacks. Across town, Felicia arched her back against the bedroom mirror with a feline stretch, watching the way her new spine bent further than humanly possible.

Felicia’s fingers trailed down her own throat, marveling at the way her pulse fluttered beneath delicate skin. The cheerleading skirt rode higher as she lifted one leg onto the vanity, her new flexibility allowing her to stretch in ways that sent electric shocks of pleasure through her core. A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she twisted, watching the way her back arched like a bowstring in the mirror—every vertebra flexing with unnatural grace. Her nipples hardened against the thin fabric of her top, the sensation amplified by the slide of silk with each experimental roll of her hips.

Across town, Michael’s fork clattered against his plate as Brittany’s stockinged foot crept up his calf beneath the table.