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“Come on, open up!” Garry “The Hammer” McCallum growled, his deep voice echoing down the empty hallway. He waited for a response, but there was only silence.

‘Probably hiding in there,’ he thought. Garry wasn’t the kind of man people wanted to see on their doorstep, especially not when they owed money. He was built like a bulldozer, with a face to match.

He twisted the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. “Huh, idiots didn’t even lock up,” he muttered, shoving the door open and stepping inside. The apartment was small, with faded wallpaper and creaky wooden floors.

“Alright, Helen! I know you’re here!” Garry shouted, looking around the room. He took a few steps forward, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. Then, he heard it—a faint giggle, like a child’s, followed by a whisper.

“What the hell?” Garry said, turning his head to the side. “Who’s there?” He squinted into the shadows, but saw no one. Just more whispering, more giggling. “Alright, enough with the games!” he barked. “Helen, get your ass out here, now!”

The giggling grew louder, almost mocking him. ‘Damn kids,’ he thought, though there were no signs of children around. “I don’t believe in ghosts, alright?” he said, trying to sound tough, but there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

Then a strange sensation washed over him—like he was being pulled apart and put back together in an instant. His body tingled all over, and his vision blurred. “What the—” he started, but his voice cut off abruptly.

When the world came back into focus, everything felt... different. Wrong. Garry blinked, trying to clear his vision. He felt a strange heaviness on his chest and a tickling sensation on his shoulders. His hands, once rough and calloused, now looked smooth and delicate. He stared down at them, his eyes widening in horror.

“What the hell happened to me?” he exclaimed in a high, feminine voice. Garry noticed a large mirror to the corner and quickly rushed over to it, feeling how new weight on his chest swayed along with his movements and how soft skin brushed up against the thin fabric of his transparen floral nightgown.

In the mirror reflected the familiar face of the tough, confident bouncer, now softened with long brown curls that flowed to his shoulders. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!” he gasped in dismay, pressing his hand against the cold surface of the glass. His palm was small, with slender fingers and perfectly manicured nails.

“I’ve gotta get out of here,” he muttered, his new voice sounding strange in his ears. He turned to leave, but his body felt awkward and uncoordinated, the new weight throwing off his balance. "This is insane. I must be dreaming." Garry stumbled towards the front door, adjusting his long hair.

But then, he heard a deep, masculine voice coming from the doorway. “Helen, darling, is that you?” Garry froze, turning slowly to face the source of the voice. Standing in the doorway was a man - skinny and dressed in a tattered old t-shirt. He usually called such people losers.

“C-Charles?” Garry stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘Who the hell is Charles?' he thought, trying to make sense of everything.

“I came to see you, of course,” Charles said, stepping inside. He closed the door behind him, his eyes roaming over Garry’s new body. “You look beautiful, Helen. You remind me of those pinup girls I saw in magazines, back in the 1950's. Only better, of course, because you're real and not an image."

Garry’s cheeks flushed. ‘God, why am I blushing?’ he thought, feeling a strange warmth spread through his body. “Uh, thanks,” he mumbled, trying to avoid Charles’s gaze. “Listen, we need to talk. I’m not who you think I am.” he gulped 'Why am I talking like some goddamn schoolgirl?'

But before he could explain, Charles stepped forward and kissed him on the lips, cupping his cheek gently with one hand. Other hand moved to his ass and squeezed tightly, causing him to shudder in both surprise and pleasure.

‘No, no, no!’ he thought, trying to push Charles away. But his body betrayed him, melting into the kiss. ‘What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not Helen, I’m not—’

Charles pulled back, smiling down at him. “What’s wrong, darling? You seem... different.”

“I—I’m not...” Garry started, but the words got stuck in his throat. He tried to tell Charles who he really was, but every time he tried to speak, it was like something was holding him back. ‘Why can’t I say what I want to say to this loser? What the hell is going on?!'

Charles chuckled, stroking Garry’s cheek. “It’s alright, Helen. You don’t have to say anything. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately about your debts. Don't worry about it. You're my girl, and I'll take care of you."

"B-but—?" Garry felt tears welling up in his eyes. ‘Why am I crying?’ he thought, furiously blinking them back. He hated when people cried, especially in front of him. 'Crying is for losers and pussies, dammit!' he tried to tell himself.

“Please, Charles,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m scared.”

Charles’s expression softened, and he pulled Garry into a tight embrace. “Shh, it’s okay, Helen. I’m here. I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

Garry closed his eyes, his body trembling. ‘I’m not Helen,’ he thought desperately. ‘I’m Garry McCallum, dammit! Get your filthy hands off of me!'.

But as Charles held him, whispering soothing words in his ear, Garry felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. His body relaxed, as he pressed his big soft breasts against the other man's skinny torso. 'This is insane,' he told himself, hearing barely audible children's giggles.