Slipped a Mickey

They were deep in discussion when an unseen hand, a hand belonging to someone neither noticed in the crowded, dimly lit bar, slipped a small pink pill into John’s drink while he turned his head to gesture.

John took a long pull from the glass, never tasting the difference. Ten minutes later his beer was finished and the first wave of transformation hit.

John paused mid-sentence, a strange heat blooming in his chest and groin. His skin felt… tight. Wrong. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake it off. He felt hot and a little unsteady.

“You alright?” William asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” John muttered. But he wasn’t. His voice already sounded slightly higher. He cleared his throat, but it didn’t help. A wave of dizziness washed over him. His muscles felt like they were softening, melting. His hands, gripping the beer glass, looked smaller. Daintier. He glanced down. His chest was pushing noticeably outward. Two small, firm breasts were forming under his crisp shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric. His waist was cinching in. His hips were widening with an aching of his pelvis that made him gasp.

“Fuck…” John’s voice cracked, now fully feminine and soft. He looked at his empty glass and saw the residual of the pill at the bottom. Pink granules. “Oh fuck!”

William’s eyes widened. “John? What the hell is happening to you?”

John knew but didn’t answer. He bolted, pushing through the crowd, stumbling on legs that were rapidly shortening. His polished shoes felt enormous on his shrinking feet. His slacks loosened around his narrowing thighs before suddenly becoming a bit tight across his new, rounding ass. By the time he reached the exit, his shirt was hanging off a much smaller frame, the sleeves too long, the collar gaping around a slender neck.

The cool night air hit him as he fled into the parking lot. He barely made it to his car before the final changes slammed home.

John collapsed into the driver’s seat, panting. Long auburn hair spilled over his shoulders. His face had softened into delicate, feminine beauty. Between his thighs, his cock had completely withdrawn, leaving a smooth, sensitive pussy that was already growing slick with unwanted arousal.

He stared at his reflection in the rearview mirror. A familiar face stared back. “Lina? It want just similar but an exact clone. He wore the same petite five-foot-one submissive body he had fucked multiple times in the club. The same delicate features. The same soft curves he had gripped while pounding her from behind. If there was a natural sub at the club it was Lina!

“No… no, no, fuck,” John whispered, voice high and melodic. He touched his new breasts, then jerked his hand away as pleasure sparked through him.

He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open to stare. His military tattoos now stretched oddly over his female chest. His once-powerful body was gone. Replaced by that of of a well known club submissive.

John gripped the steering wheel with small, trembling hands, heart hammering. A confusing rush of heat flooded his core. The memory of bending Lina over and railing her doggy style flashed through his mind — except now he was in that body.

His new pussy clenched.

He slammed the car into drive and sped home, terrified, humiliated, and shamefully, terrifyingly aroused.