You're all exhausted and go to sleep

You and James—exhausted beyond words—stumble to the guest room sometime before dawn, leaving Gwen passed out in a puddle of cum and ruined sheets. You collapse together on the bed, still buzzing with adrenaline and guilt, but sleep claims you instantly, bodies tangled and spent.

...

Morning breaks and the first ray of morning sunlight slips through the curtains, warm and golden.

A familiar shimmer ripples through the air—like heat haze over both of you.

You gasp awake as the change hits: breasts flattening, hips narrowing, the strange emptiness between your legs filling again with familiar weight. Your old male body returns—broad shoulders, flat chest, cock heavy against your thigh. Across from you, James’s form softens and shrinks, broad muscle melting into soft curves, long hair spilling over the pillow as Jill blinks awake in her own skin again.

It worked.

Gwen got pregnant. The curse released you both.

Jill sits up slowly, staring at her smaller hands, her breasts, voice soft and feminine again. “I’m back,” she whispers, relief and wonder mixing. She reaches for you, fingers tracing your now-masculine jaw. “And you’re you.”

You pull her close, about to kiss her in celebration—when the bedroom door flies open.

Gwen stands in the doorway, completely naked, skin still flushed and glistening from last night. Her petite body looks even smaller in the morning light—narrow waist, perky breasts with nipples hard as pebbles, thighs slick with the remnants of James’s loads. But her eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, lips parted in a constant soft pant.

The Frenzy Tab hasn’t worn off.

The pharmacist’s warning echoes in your head: effects last an unknown time—hours, days, maybe longer.

Gwen’s gaze locks on you—on the only man in the room now—and a **** whimper escapes her throat.

“Need it,” she breathes, voice trembling with raw hunger. “Need to be bred again. Please… I’m so empty.”

Jill freezes beside you, eyes wide. “Gwen, wait—the ****, it’s still—”

But Gwen isn’t listening. She crosses the room in three quick steps and climbs onto the bed, straddling your lap before you can react. Her small hands shove at your chest, pushing you flat on your back. She’s burning hot, slick folds grinding against your rapidly hardening cock as she positions herself.

“Gwen, stop—” you start, but the words die as she sinks down onto you in one slick, eager motion—tight, wet heat swallowing you whole.

She moans loud and broken, head thrown back, tiny body trembling as she starts to ride you hard and fast. Her hips roll desperately, chasing friction, chasing fullness, chasing seed.

“More,” she gasps, nails digging into your chest. “Breed me more. Fill me up. Make it stick deeper.”

Jill watches from the side of the bed, stunned into silence, one hand unconsciously drifting between her own thighs as Gwen bounces on you relentlessly.

Gwen doesn’t slow—doesn’t tire. She rides you through your first orgasm, clenching hard as you flood her already-stuffed pussy, then keeps going, milking you dry again and again, riding you, tiny body impaling itself over and over.

Hours blur. You lose count of how many times you come inside her, how many times she screams and shakes through her own releases, voice hoarse but still pleading.

How long will the tabs effect on your sister last?

You beat the curse, but was it worth it?