Hunter was twenty-five years old, barely five-foot eight inches taller, and no more than a hundred and thirty pounds. Nerdy or geeky (he could never tell which was actually which, and the incessant wars between friends as to what constituted what annoyed the hell out of him), a bit awkward, he wasn’t exactly a hit with the ladies, at least for finding a girlfriend.
Often, he thought as he was walking to his apartment, he seemed be in the friend zone with women, though, he noticed something about that. Rarely, he saw, was it done to just placate him. Women did genuinely like him and wanted him to be their friend, but they never seemed to consider him legitimate “boyfriend” material.
He shrugged to himself. He admitted he wasn’t the most manly of men. He certainly wasn’t built like a bodybuilder, he cared nothing for sports, and he definitely did not have a swagger that many man at least pretended to have.
Oh well, he thought to himself as he walked to his apartment. Eventually, he thought, the right girl will come around, or he secretly admitted to himself, even, well…
He pushed that thought aside for now. His mind wandered as he walked, and he was paying no attention to his surroundings. While he lived in a relatively safe city, a lack of caution was never a good idea.
He walked past a coffee shop, and noticed a semi taking up several spots in front of the sidewalk. Odd, he thought, but he knew that the coffee shop didn’t have enough space behind it to realistically park something of that size, so he assumed it was their truck to deliver their inventory. This time of night, given how light the parking would be on a Tuesday around here, he realized that this would actually be a good time to do it.
So, when the back opened, he paid little attention to it, and, hearing what he thought was a hand-truck, he ignored it. Obviously they were bringing stuff into the coffee shop. He had seen that hundreds of times at previous jobs, though, as a skilled office worker, he saw that quite rarely now.
He heard the wheels, and realized they were getting closer, which was odd, since he was past the coffee shop. They should get closer, then, as he moved and as they went into the coffee shop, it should soften.
He went to turn to see what was going on, but he was grabbed, hand over his mouth, holding his neck straight while he felt a syringe go into his neck. He was quickly in a stupor but even in this state he realized it was two men putting his feet onto the hand-truck and wheeling him onto the ramp into the semi. His vision was blurred, but he noticed that there was something over the entrance to the back of the semi that kept people from seeing in. As they got to it, it split in two and soon Hunter heard the back door to the semi slam shut.
This looked like no semi inside he had ever seen. It looked more like an ambulance, or a cramped operating room. Even in his current state, Hunter knew this was bad.
He saw two tables that looked like hospital operating tables, plus an abundance of medical equipment he couldn’t identify, and some he could, to his horror. Finally, he saw two other people, both in surgical garb, and, against what would have been the front of the semi trailer, he saw shelves, at least five, and he saw what looked to be people laying in them. As he was moved forward, even in his state, he saw something that horrified him. For each of those people, he saw that above the shoulder there was no head, just a machine and what looked like tubes connecting those bodies to what-knew-what. He was laid onto one of the tables, and the doctor (he just assumed it was a doctor due to the surgical garb and the fact that he seemed to be in charge) opened a cabinet and pulled out what looked like a jar. Inside the jar, just as another sedative rendered him unconscious, Hunter could hazily see what appeared to be a human head inside of it, and saw it move. After that, it was darkness.
Hunter opened his eyes. He was alive, he thought to himself groggily. That was a plus, at least. Given when he could recall from before he was unconscious, he expected not to wake up at all.
He was sitting, he realized, his head turned to the left. He realized he was at a twenty-four hour diner nearby his apartment. That was something, at least. He knew that he could get home from there easily enough. Judging from what he saw, he was in the booth the farthest back from the door, but closest to their backdoor.
God, he felt almost drunk, his neck was hurting, but he realized that was only a small part of it. He realized that a lot more was off than the fact that he abducted and dumped here. First, he could, despite being groggy, could feel just fine, and everything below his neck was sending all the wrong signals. Somehow, he felt shorter, thinner, except his chest, which was certainly heavier. He was definitely not wearing the sneakers nor the jeans he had on when he walked past, and he felt softer, hairless. Finally, and more alarmingly, he couldn’t feel his penis or his testicles, but instead of feeling numb, he felt something very different down there.
He didn’t want to move. He was too scared too. He knew what he felt, he knew it could mean. He rubbed his face, seeing a feminine hand instead of his male one, feeling his familiar facial features and feeling his hair, which felt right to him. So, that meant…
No way, he thought, no, no fucking way, no, it couldn’t be.
A soft moan in front of him startled him, and he bolted upright, in for the shock of his life.
In front of him, in the other booth, her head on the table was a woman about his age, pretty, blond, tan, but he could see she was wearing the shirt he was wearing prior to all this, plus he could see what were obviously his hands and arms coming out of said shirt. He couldn’t see the back of her neck, but he saw from a look to the side where her hair wasn’t in the way there was stitching along the base of her neck. He felt his neck, and realized there was the same stitching. He finally looked down at himself.
He saw, below his neck, he now had the body of a busty woman, very attractive, tan, dressed in a tight grey dress. He looked down under the table and saw black pantyhose and black high-heeled ankle boots on what were now his feet.
He couldn’t believe it, or, more precisely, he didn’t want to believe it. His head was now attached to the body of a very attractive woman, who, he realized, was now waking up in front of him, and would likely be just as freaked out and confused as he is.
In that assessment, he quickly realized, he was wrong.
She opened her eyes, groaned, and was still a moment or two. She didn’t look around or make any attempt to move. She just was there, head on the table, motionless. Hunter wasn’t sure what he should even do at this point. However, she then lifted an arm up and brought what was once his head down, touching his feminine arm through the fabric of his dress.
“I knew it.” She said. “I could hear you move. Nylon on nylon isn’t silent.”
“Yeah, I…”
“Don’t mean to interrupt, but, your body, grey dress, hose, heels, right?”
“Yes.”
“Tan skin?”
“Yep.”
“And, are you sitting up?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recognize the body I have?”
“It’s mine.”
“Good.” She lifted her head and looked herself up and down even getting out of the booth to examine herself. She then looked at Hunter up and down and got back into the booth.
Hunter, while she was doing this, was inwardly irritated. What the hell did she mean by “good”? How was this good? What this planned? Was this some sort of scheme?
She sat back down and saw the anger he was failing to hide on his face. Her look was a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“What, you think I had something to do with this?” She asked. “I didn’t. I don’t mind being a man, but it wasn’t exactly asked about my opinion. I was abducted and drugged same as you. If I had a hand in this, I’d get a taller, buffer body.”
At that, Hunter grinned.
“Ah, I’m hurt.”
“Fuck you, get over it.”
“You know I’m not really hurt, right?”
“I know, which is why I said it. You were, well, I’m not going to kick a girl while she’s down.”
“Wait…”
“Biology, you’re a woman. However, I forgot gender, sorry. He is still valid here, I feel.”
“Thank you.” Hunter said. “What do you prefer?”
“As long as it’s not it, I don’t give a damn.” She said with a grin. “I don’t even know at this point. By the way, I’m Cassie.” She held a fist out.
Hunter bumped the fist and grinned. “I’m Hunter.”
“Well, Hunter, so, nice to meet you, a least nice under the circumstances.”
“Same, for both things.” Hunter said.
Hunter, at this point, had to get up. It wasn’t a desire to see himself. His left leg had cramped up. He got up and finally saw his body full-on. He looked down, finally examining his body, moving to see his legs better, then his feet, the rest, his feminine hands on his hips.
“So, Hunter, I should tell you, I’m at a conference for a week, and day two just ended. I can’t imagine my current wardrobe will fly if I try to pull it off, I think people will quickly realize something is wrong, so, I was wondering, could I borrow some clothes?”
“Yeah, sure.” Hunter said. “Wait, you don’t want to go to the cops or anything first?”
“Well, yeah, I do, but after that, I mean, I need clothes that fit me. I mean, I don’t expect them to fix it before tomorrow.”
“Won’t that get you more noticed than if you just, well, crossdressed, I guess?”
“You see my legs, see my tits. You’ve got a pretty thin male body, but it won’t pass for mine. Now, you, press those tits down, you might be able to pull off being in male office wear.”
Hunter paused at that, considering that for a moment.
“Given what I wear, no, I won’t. The stitches would give it away and my hands would otherwise. I could use some of your clothes as well, now that I think of it.”
“Sure thing.” Cassie grinned. “But, beyond a maybe three t-shirts and two pairs of jeans, the rest are office clothes or more dressy clothes. This was for a business conference. I’ve got more stockings and pantyhose in my luggage than socks. A lot more.”
“Great.” Hunter said. “Well, I have a couple of nice suits and more formal office wear, but I rarely wear them. My workplace it’s exactly too formal. You’re welcome to them. And, for your clothes, I’ll take what I can get. I guess they might see me in two days with a skirt suit on.”
“You don’t work tomorrow? It’s a Wednesday!”
“I’m off Wednesdays and Saturdays. I don’t have a real weekend. Never did, Cassie. I like this schedule.”
“Eh, to each his own, I guess.” Cassie mused. “I like my two days off.”
“Like you said, to each his own.” Hunter said. “But, do you want to go to the cops now? Collect our clothes, or what?”
“Let’s go to the cops first, I guess.” Cassie said. “Might as freak the fuck out of the night shift.”