Beads of sweat gathered at my temples and dripped slowly down my pale face. My hands were trembling by the time I reached the apartment that I shared with Pete. I had to use my shoulder to help push open the door.
Damn. What was wrong with me?
Maybe it was the threat to my dick that had me shaking. Emily and Vanessa should be proud – women hadn't scared me for a long time.
"Fuck," I whispered just inside the door. My fingers hadn't stopped shaking.
"I take it the night was successful?" Pete asked from the couch. Despite the late hour, he had several files and loose sheets of paper all around him.
"Uhh…" I gave a noncommittal shrug and pulled off my tie. It was getting too difficult to breathe. "It was…um…it was weird."
"Weird?' His pen paused against the page he was working on. "How so?"
My clumsy fingers fumbled with the buttons on my shirt. When they were finally undone, I shrugged out of the constricting material. My undershirt was damp with sweat.
I shuffled the short distance to the couch and dropped down heavily next to Pete. "I'm not sure," I huffed. "Why is it so hot in here?"
"It's not hot." Pete gathered his pages up and moved them to the long table in front of the couch. "What's wrong with you?"
"I feel funny, Petey." I ran a hand roughly down my face.
Pete touched my forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up."
Unable to sit up any longer, I curled onto my side and laid my head in Pete's lap. "I think I'm dying," I moaned.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "You're not dying." He ran his fingers lightly against my temples.
"I think those girls poisoned me." My lips felt dry to my touch, to the point that the skin cracked in several places.
"What girls?"
But I was too tired to explain it to him. My eyelids were so heavy. As soon as they slid closed, an explosion of color played out behind my lids.
Vaguely – very vaguely – I could feel Pete's fingertips tracing the skin on my face. He was my best friend; it felt natural to sink further into the comfort that was him.
~
I woke up in my own bed. Beams of sunlight filtered through the cracks in my curtains. It was morning.
A huff of air blew through my lips when I turned over on the pillow. Something felt strange though; piles of long hair had fallen under my cheeks and over my ear.
Fuck. Did I bring someone home with me last night?
That was literally the only rule Pete and I had agreed on when we moved in together. Neither one of us would bring people home to fuck. We owned a hotel – there was no reason to bring people here.
I hadn't felt good though, I recalled. Maybe I slipped up.
My eyes cracked open further. There was no one there. The hair was actually coming from my own head. It was my own hair that startled me? What the hell?
I grabbed the phone to check the time. 9:16. Pete must have let me sleep in, I realized. I still felt a little off but much better than the night before.
Still yawning, I rolled off the side of the bed and shuffled towards the bathroom. Hanging on the outside of my bathroom door was a full-length mirror. My heart stuttered and skipped a beat when I caught a glimpse of the reflection.
A young woman stood there, wearing my underwear and tee shirt. She had light brown hair that hung in messy waves past her shoulders. She stared at me with the same shocked expression on her face that I felt coursing through my veins.
"What the fuck is going on?" I squeaked in a voice that wasn't my own.
Holy fucking hell. Was that me? Why did I look like that? How could I go to bed as a man and wake up as a woman?
No. I must be still sleeping.
I pinched my arm as hard as possible. An angry red welt immediately flared to life. The pain told me that I was awake.
My hands frantically ran across my once flat chest. Two mounds of soft flesh were there now. I kneaded them roughly. I had tits.
What?
All I could hear inside my head was my own blood swirling around behind my ears. With growing dread, I reached my hand inside my underwear. Where my cock had proudly hung the night before was now just flat skin, separated by a slit.
"Oh shit," I mouthed the words like a dying fish. I had a pussy.
Tiny gasps of panic were coming out of my open mouth. One hand still holding my boobs, I ran into the bathroom. The lighting was better in here. Before I completely melted down, I had to confirm it.
I peeled my underwear off my body and let them fall to the floor. Taking a deep breath, I bent over to see if it really was gone. A soft triangle of hair was there, but nothing else. I shoved a finger inside the slit that was there now, feeling the moist warmness of my newly formed vagina.
"My dick," I whimpered. I hurried to pull my underwear back up and moved closer to the mirror.
Using two fingers, I pressed hard on my cheeks. They were soft and gave way to the pressure immediately. The wide eyes looking back at me were my eyes – the same blue grey color with the brown specks in the middle. Pete always said my eyes looked like marbles.
So it really was me.
"Oh no. No. No. No." I moved backwards until the wall prevented me from going any further.
What was happening? Was this some kind of psychotic break down? Should I call 911? No, I immediately discarded that idea. What could they do for me? I still didn't know what I was doing but I couldn't stand looking in the mirror any longer. I hurried out of the bathroom and ran to get my phone.
I almost dropped the damn thing while trying to turn it on. I quickly found Pete's name and pushed the green phone icon next to it.
I hung up before the first ring finished. I sounded like a girl – I couldn't call him. The phone suddenly buzzed to life.
One New Message. It was from Pete.
Petey: Did you mean to call me?
Texting was ok; he couldn't hear me through a text.
Me: Yeah.
Petey: Ok?
Petey: What did you want?
Me: I just woke up.
Petey: You called me to tell me you woke up?
Petey: Congratulations.
Petey: Are you feeling better?
Me: No. I know this is going to sound weird, but
I bit down on my lip, my fingers hoovering over the keyboard on my phone. It was probably going to sound crazy to tell Pete that I had woken up as a woman. It would be better to go talk to him so he could see it for himself.
Petey: But what?
Me: When I woke up this morning, I was a bastard.
My eyebrows furrowed. I had typed out woman, why did it change to that?
Petey: You were always a bastard.
Me: No, I was an asshole.
Petey: Look man, I'm swamped over here. If you're feeling better, get your ass in to work and stop talking like a crazy man.
Right. My breath came out in an audible whoosh as it forcefully left my lungs. I'll go see Pete; he was the smartest person I knew. Unable to think of any better options, I hurried to get dressed.