Regrettably, no...

Even though I had noticed the red flags, his wavering walk, **** on his breath, his slurred speech, I walked through the threshold of the door, saying, “Yeah, sure.” If I was someone else watching this scene unfold, I would understand that it was my move to get to know Carter, get on his good side, which could potentially enable him to turn a blind eye to his sister and her boyfriend from doing more adult things together. I was at an age where it was legal to drink, though sadly, I had forgone trying any **** due to how the cons outweighed the pros once it was consumed and in one's system.

One beer wouldn't hurt me as much as one shot of harder liquor. Caitlyn had gone upstairs by now and Carter appeared out of the kitchen with two beers in hand. I met him in the living room, receiving a bottle from him. “You've had beer before, right?” he asks.

“Only once before,” I say, lying to his face. He doesn't seem to read it as a lie and acknowledges it as truth with a slight nod which turns into an almost vertical swig of his beer in one single motion. I drink the beer, consuming an ounce or two to prevent me from appearing weak. I knew sipping the bitter liquid would be a weak move, so the tilting of the bottom near a 45-degree angle would appear manly in Carter's eyes.

The fizzy, bitter liquid washed in my mouth and I tried to swallow it, even though the taste activated my gag reflex. In turn, I had to cough, a clear signal that I was not an experienced drinker. Carter chimed in, “Maybe you should sip it first, so you could get used to the taste.” I immediately feel woozy, feeling that what Carter said was so true. I had taken a portion that I couldn't handle and I was paying for it. I got to my feet, feeling hot all over. My move is likely for the bathroom or the sink, as at the moment I did not know whether I was going to be sick to my stomach or I just needed to cool off with the proper liquid.

The next moment, I feel my balance tip over past my center of gravity. I see myself tip over, but I neither hear nor feel my impact with the floor. I somehow roll over onto my back, still feeling the heat all across my body, as if I was a star going supernova. In a faint volume, I could hear Caitlyn call out from upstairs, asking what the loud thud was. Carter chuckles about how I couldn't take the beer that he gave me and reassures my girlfriend that he'd take me home himself. Before I could protest that idea, I seemingly black out.

I come to, seated in an upright position, though I immediately notice a faint rumble, then another, which fully rouses me. A wind rushes to my side, though it sounds like it is outside a window. There is a throbbing in my head and I try to lift my hands to attempt to keep it from pulsating, but immediately, I discover that my move is hindered somehow. I groan as I open my eyes, not yet aware that what is produced by my mouth is higher in pitch than usual. I see a glint of metal reflecting the light of an amber lamppost, the metal binding my wrists together.

In a panic I pull my wrists towards me, but something in the darkness is somehow preventing me from doing so. I try to yell out expletives, but I also discover a piece of tape flush against my mouth, preventing me from speaking. I'm in the passenger seat of a car, feeling a bit different in my body. My first thought is that my beer was spiked, but with what, I'm not entirely sure. The car pulls over on the side of a highway, judging from four lanes separated by designated reflectors. I turn my head towards the driver and see Carter in the light of a lamp that he conveniently parks underneath.

I try to say, “What the fuck,” but it hasn't quite hit me yet that I'm silenced by a piece of duct tape.

“Try to calm down, it's possible. I didn't kidnap you or anything, even though that may be what you're thinking,” he says, as if trying to justify the current situation. “I just thought me and you needed to take a drive.”

As he is speaking, I'm constantly trying to pull my hands towards me so I could take off the piece of tape, but it still hasn't sunk in why I'm unable to do such a simple move.

It feels so surreal how unfamiliar this situation feels. I'm in a panic, but Carter seems as if he has no concern for how I'm acting and how it may seem to other drivers passing by. I don't get why he is so calm.

“Can I just show you why you can't move? Maybe you'll sit still for five minutes,” he offers and when he shifts towards me, I assume he is going to hit me or something, but instead, he only reaches for a switch, turning on the interior lights. For what seems like an eternity, I'm frozen as I behold my position in this car. The light immediately glints off the pair of hand cuffs binding my wrists together as well as it having been wrapped around the door's grab handle. But that is not the most surprising thing I see.

I'm shocked to discover beyond my bound hands is a pair of exposed legs ending in smooth female feet, adorned with a pair of flat sandals. As my eyes scan up those legs, which thicken up past the knees, I see the frayed hem of a denim skirt. When I rub my thighs together, the same thighs I see move accordingly and I feel the subtlety of a cotton garment covering the horror of a missing penis. By now, I can already feel the light, ever-present pressure encircling my chest, supporting what feels like medium-sized breasts, though underneath this shirt I'm wearing, they might as well be huge knockers found on a pin-up model. And lightly, as I move my head up and down and side to side, I feel the feathery touches of hair on my neck and shoulders. And who knows how long those locks may be?

Once it dawns on that I'm in the body of a woman, tears start falling from my eyes. “Crying already?” Carter says, his tone less like he's teasing me and more like he's disappointed. “Alright, so finding yourself in the body of a girl might have that affect, but I really thought you were a man deep inside. I mean, you've been dating my sister for a whole year and been really, really good to her. That's something to be proud of, man.”

The way he is speaking is confusing to me as I continue to sob in the passenger seat. I am unsure what plans he has for me in this state. He sounds like he simply wants to talk while I'm in this vastly different body and he is mostly addressing me as if I was the young man he met earlier. He somehow still sees me as his sister's boyfriend, despite the change of my appearance.

“To explain why I have you in handcuffs and tape over your mouth is because I was predicting your first reaction to your current situation,” he explains. “It was likely you'd try to use whatever strength you have to somehow overcome the cuffs and when that didn't happen, you'd curse whoever put you in those cuffs. I guess my prediction was right so far. But don't worry, I had the same reaction when I was in the same position.” His last statement actually stops my sobbing and I inhale tears and snot up my nose as I look over to him. “Promise you won't go screaming like a girl when I take off that tape over your mouth?”

I give him a dubious expression, but he reaches towards my face anyways, pulling the corner of the tape off of my cheek and in one quick motion, peeling the piece off of my lips. Once my mouth is free, I let out an insult, “I fucking hate you.” Maybe I should more concerned of how girly my voice is now, but I seem unfazed by it for now.

“I deserved that, I'm sure,” he says. “Now, because you started crying, it changed my mind about you. Here I was thinking you were 100% macho guy inside of this not-so-manly body. If you were, you'd go maniac in this car right now. I'm wondering if you observed your situation, assessed it, and found there was no way with your strength that you'd easily escape from it.”

“You're saying crying is a helpless girl's thing,” I state.

“Not necessarily, Brian,” Carter says. “It might mean you are more in tune with your emotions.”

“Is that why you are so calm right now?” I ask, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he starts up the car again and resumes driving. I'm worried of what he might do, but at the moment, I'm almost as calm as him. He's right. I did assess the situation and given that I'm still cuffed to the door, I cannot do much. In the same way, he could try to do what I imagine he could do, but at the moment he is driving and focusing on the road.

He continues to drive, going in no particular direction and heading to no specific destination. He doesn't speak, not even a little tease about my position or a look in my direction. The silence at least gives me some time to think about how this body came to be. And how long it will last, if I could ever return to my original body. I think I should have some optimism that it will wear off and bide my time until it does.