The customs official at Tahiti Airport looked thoroughly unimpressed as he pulled the hormone cream from the carry-on luggage.

"It's medicinal!" Dennis protested, brandishing the doctor's prescription, until eventually he realised that the official was not concerned about the lotion itself; rather, he was seeking assurances that Dennis would still resemble his passport photo by the time he departed.

When Dennis produced the vial of Caucosterone, the man visibly relaxed.

“You have a good vacation, sir,” the official said. “Just, please, be sure to shower and wear a wetsuit if you intend to swim. This concentration is strong, and the hormones have been playing havoc with the reef. Half the fish are growing breasts. Very bad for their buoyancy.”

His son caught him down at the beach, as he lathered the first dose of the thick cream over his flabby gut like sunscreen. Already his pallid, freckled skin was turning red and peeling in the hot sun. The cream smarted over the sunburnt patches but otherwise... nothing happened. It should be. He had used ten times the recommended dosage, eager not to waste half his finite vacation as himself. With a frown, Dennis flipped the bottle over and read the warning label.

“Phenogenic hormones will trigger secondary puberty within one hour of application. Adopt a comfortable, prone position prior to metabolic transition.”

Then the hormone hit his brain like a truck. The beach resort melted into a hot haze of raw sensation, noise and arousal. Vaguely, he perceived being dragged back through the hotel lobby and dropped into bed, body shaking all over.

The following days were feverish bliss – sleeping 20 hours a day, tossing and turning, the crisp hotel sheets a delight against his sensitive, growing chest. He woke only to the angry housekeeping, dragging himself to the balcony to lather himself in more cream and bake in the sun, delightfully delirious, while they grumbled and swapped the bedsheets soaked with the vast amount of sweat and fat his remetabolising body was ejecting.

On the fourth morning, the fever broke. He sat up, running a shaking hand over his toned body and full, perky chest. Heart pounding, he stumbled to the bathroom mirror.