To Bree or not to Bree… that is the question.

You pick up the pink x-change pill. It feels cool and smooth against your fingertips. It’s real. You're acutely aware of the bar's anticipation, the way everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for you to swallow it. Your hand shakes just a bit, but make yourselg hide it, playing it cool. In your memories as Bruce you’ve had people lose to you and have to take a pill. But you’ve not taken a pink pill. Ever.

"Alright, I'll take it," you say with a bravado that surprises even yourself.

You pop the pill into your mouth, feeling the coolness dissolve on your tongue before you swallow it with a gulp of your beer. The room seems to tilt and shift around you, the faces of the bar patrons blurring into a haze of color and light.

You feel your face shifting and becoming more feminine. No. Becoming female, features finer, jaw rounder, lips fuller, lashes and hair longer, teeth smaller, nose cute, cheeks higher, neck slimmer. Bree’s face!

And then it begins. It's not like you've never seen it before as Bruce, but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The tightness in your chest starts to spread outward, your pectoral muscles giving way to something softer, more yielding. You feel your shirt stretching, buttons popping one by one as your chest balloons outwards. Your nipples tingle and harden, becoming more sensitive with every passing second. The fabric of your shirt clings to your newfound curves, the material straining against the sudden growth of your breasts and embarrassingly erect nipples.

Your arms shrink, the bulging biceps now nothing more than a distant memory. The veins recede, and your once-solid forearms become slender and delicate. You watch in awe as your hands lose their size, the rough calluses on your palms smoothing out as they shrink to fit a much smaller frame. Your fingers taper, nails growing longer and more feminine, the strength in your grip diminishing until you can barely hold onto the edge of the table.

The waistband of your pants feels looser as your hips widen and your waist narrows. You feel a strange sensation in your lower body, a stretching and shifting that leaves you gasping for breath. Your legs, once powerful and muscular, are now shorter and more delicate, the fabric of your jeans pooling around your new, smaller feet. You look down to see your ankles now slim and unblemished by hair, your feet shrinking into a pair of dainty new pair too small for your shoes. The sensation of weightlessness is disorienting, and you wobble slightly in your seat..

As the transformation progresses, you feel something strange happening between your legs. Your cock, once a proud and mighty symbol of your masculinity, begins to recede into your body. The bulge in your pants diminishes until it’s barely there. In its place, a smooth mound emerges, the skin of your testicles retracting upward to become ovaries with fallopian tubes and a womb, your cock head shrinking to tiny proportions to form the bud of a clit. The sensation is alien, and you can't help but reach down to touch it. It's so sensitive, so different from before. You can feel the heat and moisture gathering as it swells slightly under your fingertips. Your former cock has been replaced by a tight, wet slit that's already begging for attention.

Your clothes are much two big. “Two orgasms!” John says.

You nod in trepidation as you stand in your new, unfamiliar body, hardly believing that you are now all tits and ass under your overlarge clothes. He leads you to the back room, the room where the sexual encounters took place in the game!

You had agreed to this but in your mind you had expected John to lose!

John’s hand is firm on your shoulder, guiding you through the dimly lit hallway of the bar. You can’t believe this is happening. The walls seem to close in around you as the reality of your situation sinks in. You’ve lost your manhood, become a woman, and you’ve agreed to be at John’s mercy for two orgasms - which will both extend the duration of the pill and have unwanted mental effects.

In the back room, John locks the door behind you. The anticipation is palpable, the air thick with the with tension, your uncertainty and John’s desire. He takes a seat in a chair opposite the bed, watching you with a hungry gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. “Strip,” he instructs you with an air or control that intimidates you.

Bruce had been an angry woman. You feel uncertain.

You fumble with the buttons of your shirt, the material sticking to your new breasts as if it’s afraid to let go. You manage to shrug it off, revealing the soft, round mounds of flesh that are still sensitive to the touch.

You look down at your breast in amazement. They hardly seem real. Yet they most certainly are! They sway heavily with your movements and you realise that they must by D cups or larger!

Your pants follow, pooling around your ankles. You step out of them, the feeling of your bare feet against the cold floor a stark contrast to the warmth now emanating from between your legs.

You stare down in shock. You really are a woman now!!!