Prizes Are Meant To Be Enjoyed

"Is there a problem?" Walter asked, his voice dropping an octave into a smooth, resonant rumble as he moved closer to the side of the bed.

The two young men, caught between the surreal reality of Tim’s father inhabiting such a breathtakingly feminine form and the primal biological response of their own bodies, struggled to find their words. They were staring at a masterpiece of flesh and grace, yet Tim couldn't shake the mental image of the man who had once been the authority figure in his live.

Walter reached out, his well-manicured hand grazing the edge of the silk sheets near her hip. The movement was casual, but there was an unmistakable tension in his gaze.

"Because you're looking at me like I’m a prize to be won," Walter said, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "But we know prizes are meant to be enjoyed."

He leaned in closer, his shadow falling over her as he hovered just inches from her face. "What do you think?" he murmured, his eyes locking onto hers. "Should we see just how much 'fun' this body can have with all three of us?"

The air in the room seemed to thicken, turning heavy with the sudden, electric charge of his proposition. The young men felt their breath hitch; they were terrified, exhilarated, and utterly captivated by the audacity of the former man—and the sheer beauty of the newly minted woman.