A blurred and painful awakening disrupted Chuck’s dormancy as his eyes slowly focused on his digital alarm clock.
The blinking colon between the hour and the minute counters violently drummed the seconds of his alcohol induced torment. Chuck’s head bellowed upon waves of whiskey infused headache. How had he managed to drink so much?
More importantly, what happened last night? The evening was a muddled conjecture of missed connections and happy accidents. The late hours of a night’s outing at his local pub usually lead to a booze-infused discussion of politics, religion, and sex, soon obliterated by a cleansing alcohol-fueled memory wipe.
Something prolific, a profound moment, had managed to escape the mental gravity well of his binge. A monolith, no... a person had managed to survive in his memories until his awakening.
Suddenly, a tide of recollection swept over his mind.
Chuck cringed at the realization of the name. How could such perfect beauty be remembered so brutally? The agony of Chuck’s hangover soon overcame his awakened state. The seemingly crushing force upon his head quickly engulfed his senses and induced further sleep.
The red digits of the alarm clock came into clearer focus. The pulsing colon still beat the drum of malady, but the additional hours of slumber had muffled Chuck’s hangover. However, Harmony fought through the haze of Chuck’s consciousness like a foghorn.
Chuck was an average guy with a sub-average career. His talents had shown throughout college, but he had burned out. His drive had been exhausted before he could manifest a diploma. This vexing feeling brought distraught to his mind every waking moment of the day. While Chuck had done well for himself, often surpassing the incomes of his succeeding college colleagues, Chuck realized that his lack of a degree was selling himself short. This internal conflict of potential talent and lackluster drive was subconsciously tearing Chuck apart. Chuck frequently imbibed alcohol to quell this internal struggle. Booze littered his life with missed opportunities and sorrow.
This morning was different. Through this whiskey animated haze, Chuck recollected his short encounter with Harmony the night before. Harmony wasn’t just another floozie at the pub, she was the woman of Chuck’s dreams in the flesh. Perfect curves from head to toe accentuated her vixen body. Long auburn hair graced her shoulders and led down to the small of her back where her slim waist promenaded into curvaceous hips. Her lustful rear quarters lead to well toned thighs, concluding in perfectly delicate feet, clad in enchanting stiletto heels. Harmony’s seductive blue eyes were hypnotically entrancing, but easily contended by her luscious red lips. She donned a form-hugging red dress that squeezed her ample cleavage perfectly into view and terminated within inches below her buttocks. He remembered her voice being soft and soothing. For all intents and purposes, she was the perfection of the female form.
In his whiskey infested reminiscence of Harmony, Chuck was becoming aroused; but something wasn’t right. Mystery clouded his perfect recall of Harmony - something was lost in translation from experience to memory. A conversation had occurred, thoughts exchanged, but the experience had not culminated into a romantic bond with the woman of his dreams.
What could have happened?
At this moment, Chuck rolled from his side and sat up within his queen size bed, his feet outstretched in front of him and his palms behind him to support his upper body. Painful waves of hangover engulfed his head. Something was different - the troughs and crests of these waves brought not a form of misery, but instead a palpitation of ecstasy.
Chuck brought his left hand in front of his face and waved it to and from to make sure he was in a familiar plane of reality. He recognized his hand as a comforting affirmation of his reality, but at the same time, his hand was not entirely familiar. The whites of his finger nails seemed to have grown to a length that he did not normally allow. A certain slenderness and dainty feeling accompanied the reconnaissance of his hand, but Chuck attributed this to his hangover - how could just a single night of drinking change his physique?
The miserly struggle countered by surging bliss entranced Chuck back into slumber. Hopefully Harmony would grace his ensuing dreams.
A blanketing feeling of void had awoken Chuck. An all encompassing feeling of hunger had interrupted his slumber and he immediately sought the fruitful grounds of his kitchen.
Preparing a fresh meal would take too long, Chuck needed nourishment within a more immediate frame of time. He threw a frozen pizza into the oven - neglecting the preheat stage. While the pizza cooked, he decided to munch on fresh bread he had bought the day before. As he gripped the knife to butter the bread, he noticed his fingernails had grown to feminine proportions on both of his hands. Chuck took pride in physical hygiene, so he resorted to his bathroom to source the clippers and trim his nails
Upon entry of the bathroom he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He immediately observed that his thick dark hair had lightened, but more surprisingly, had lengthened. His normally shaggy hair had grown to lie inches above his shoulders.
As he witnessed this change, suddenly his conversation with Harmony came into the focus. “Fuck me if I am wrerng, but haven't we med before?” Chuck had drunkenly blurted out while bumping into Harmony, spilling his drink onto her red dress and down her cleavage.
Chuck brushed the hair from from his face. Something was off, his arms seemed to originate from a narrower point on his body than he remembered - it was as if the broadness of his shoulders had been reduced. Looking down at the rest of his body, it was all there as he remembered it. Chuck again attributed this to be part of his hangover - perhaps his vision still needed time to recover.
Laying on the couch waiting for his pizza to bake, an overwhelming wave of fatigue took over Chuck’s consciousness and forced him into another deep slumber.
Harmony’s blue eyes glowed like twin lighthouses in the pub’s dim light, her wetted cleavage distracting Chuck from his previous and epically terrible pickup line. Bright lights pulsed from all directions and Harmony’s lavish breasts seemed to pulsate with them.
Chuck was dreaming - but this was no ordinary dream. It was a perfect recollection of the entrancing encounter with Harmony. Chuck was powerless within the dream, he eagerly anticipated learning what had been said.
“I’m turribly sorry,” Chuck drunkenly exclaimed.
“Thanks for that! Now my dress is utterly ruined!” retorted Harmony.
“There musp be some way I can muck it up to you,” replied Chuck.
“This was a $700 custom tailored dress, there’s no way you can repay me, asshole.” She paused, thinking of how she could take advantage of the situation, and then angrily insisted, “I’m Harmony and you’re buying drinks for my friends and me.”
“Well, sermone vacuum my lap, these girls need a place to swit,” slurred Chuck as he signaled the bartender to receive his drink order.
“Alright, I’ve had enough!” Harmony shoved Chuck into a corner and pinned his arms against the wall. The bar tender returned to his other customers. The other patrons in the bar thought Harmony was seducing Chuck, figuring her for just another slutty young vixen.
Her voluminous bosom compressed against Chuck’s chest as she leaned in. Her lips caressed his earlobe as she whispered into Chuck’s right ear. Chuck was aroused at this point, little did he know what was about to come. The dream faded abruptly.
Chuck sprung from the couch to his feet. A pungent burning smell was emanating from his kitchen. “Shit, I fell asleep while the pizza was cooking!”
After removing the charred remains of a frozen pizza, Chuck suddenly felt queazy. It may have been the burning smell of the pizza, or due to the pain of hunger within his abdomen. Whatever it was, he felt an incredible urge to visit the toilet - he was going to be sick.
Chuck leaned over the toilet, and for the first time, he experienced having to hold his flowing locks away from the porcelain confines that surrounded his face. As his stomach prepared to forfeit everything within, Chuck succumbed to a severe level of ill condition of which he had never before experienced.
An hour later, Chuck stumbled into his bedroom, sliding along the wall for guidance, and sought the sanctuary of his comfortable bed.
Exhaustion swept over him again.
“You’re pitiful pickup lines will have grave repercussions, womanizer!” whispered a voice in Chuck’s ear. It was Harmony. They were back in the pub. Harmony had Chuck pinned against the wall, his hands crossed above his head.
The dream continued.
“Do you like my bosom forced against your chest? My lips caressing your ears? My hips thrust against your pelvis? Savor this moment, you’ll soon feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your womanizing blasphemy!”
Harmony then caressed Chuck’s lips with her own. Chuck’s interpretation of anger coagulated with a sudden urge of lust. He kissed back, but Harmony’s kiss was not one of romance and instead one of revenge, stinging Chuck’s lips as if a strong electric charge had been applied. Her teeth lightly tugged on his lower lip as her kiss retreated. She released his arms and Chuck, dazed, drunk, and confused, stumbled through the crowd and finally exited the bar, embarrassed.
The dream faded to black.
Light pierced through Chuck’s blinds to finally awake him from his sickened sleep.
Chuck struggled to bring his hands into view, it was as though his entire body had become much weaker. His finger nails were longer than before, his hands slimmer. However, the changes had grown past his hands, through his wrists and into his arms.
He tried to escape his bed, but fell to the floor, weakened by his rampant sleep and ill state of being. On his knees and hands, his long locks stretched to his wrists, now blond in color. He slowly brought himself onto his knees and finally stood up.
As he staggered towards his mirror, he immediately noticed his alien face. A pale, but gorgeous woman’s face with puppy dog brown eyes peered through disheveled blond hair, straight into Chuck’s eyes. Chuck shifted to his left, but the woman’s face shifted with him. He shifted to the right, the woman’s hair lagged behind, exposing her large, seductive eyes, before quickly covering them again.
Chuck stood motionless, staring at his feminine form in the mirror.
Chuck finally gained the courage to look below the long blond locks. He had lost much of his body mass. A pale and slightly curvy body was all that was left of his average male figure. Gazing from his shoulders down, Chuck used his hands to trace down to his narrow waist which flared into wide, child baring hips. From there, his thickened thighs gracefully culminated into feminine feet.
Chuck desperately grasped his groin and chest simultaneously. He hoped to verify that he was still male, but feared the worst. Feeling familiar territory, Chuck was suddenly alerted by his apartment’s buzzer. It rang repeatedly, desperately.
Chuck quickly donned concealing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, clumped his long hair up on top of his head, and donned a baseball cap. He crept to the door and peaked through the peep hole. An intoxicatingly gorgeous red head was standing at the door, dressed in leg-hugging yoga pants and cleavage hugging t-shirt that failed to disguise her white push-up bra, her auburn hair flowing in the calm breeze.
It was Harmony.
As Chuck opened the door, Harmony prominently entered into his apartment. “You left your wallet on the bar when you tried to order us drinks before careening out of the pub.” She angrily exclaimed.
“Harmony, I’m truly sorry. I had way too much to drink last night, I’m ashamed I’d ever say the things I said last night,” stated Chuck with regret.
Harmony looked Chuck over from head to toe. “Are you all right, you look ... different, you look ill.”
“I’m fine, just a pretty awful hangover,” mumbled Chuck.
“No, you look like death,” blatantly retorted Harmony. She then realized that Chuck’s condition may not be purely circumstantial to his booze intake.
“Do you remember what I said to you last night?” asked Harmony?
“Something like, ‘you’ll feel what it’s like to be feminine.’, it’s hard to remember last night,” said Chuck, still wincing from the pain of his hangover.
Recollection of her exact words forced Harmony’s jaw to drop. She realized her words had much heavier gravity than she had anticipated. A few long locks of blond hair had fallen from the confines of Chuck’s hat; this is all that Harmony needed to see to confirm her fears.
“Chuck, I’m sorry, but what is about it happen to you is going to be painful. It is going to change your life physically and mentally. There is nothing I can do to stop it. I’m terribly sorry, all I can do is try to help.”
Already conditioned to the pain he had been feeling all day, an even more sever wave of a pain slowly encroached upon Chuck. A hot and throbbing feeling proliferated through every cell of his body.
“Come on honey, we need to get you back to your bed.” Harmony placed her arm under Chuck’s and around his slim waist as she walked him back to his bedroom. “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you.” Chuck quickly drifted back into a deep sleep. Harmony watched Chuck succumb to a coma like state, wrenching in pain. She grabbed his apartment keys and silently left.
Harmony entered Chuck’s apartment once again. Chuck was still deep asleep, but painfully and continuously shifting within his bed, a wretched suffering displayed on his pale female face.
Chuck’s shoulders had narrowed to petite proportions; his waist was incredibly slim and feminine. His hips had grown voluptuously and his thighs had thickened. His arms, though toned, had lost their masculinity and his feet were tiny, perfectly tailored for a life in heels.
Chuck awoke to the soothing gaze of Harmony’s beautiful eyes. “I was wondering when you’d come to.” The soft timbre of Harmony’s voice eased Chuck from his slumber into a conscious state.
Chuck again sat up from his bed. This time, his feminine hands immediately went to his chest and groin. No longer were they met with the familiar male expectations.
“Remember what I said to you at the pub?” Harmony asked regretfully.
“Not exactly,” said Chuck.
“Well, basically, I wished that you would experience the female perspective,” said Harmony.
“Wish? What the hell? I don’t believe in that hocus-pocus bullshit, I’m pretty sure you’re not some sort of psycho genie. What the hell did you do to me?” Chuck’s voice wasn’t his own - it was higher pitched and feminine with furious overtones.
“Well, I’m not sure how to explain this. To put it simply, I was born into a curse. Whenever I make sexual contact with another male, they may become afflicted with a form of the curse that causes ... certain changes. Female changes. You’re going see what it’s like to live life in a pair of heels,” said Harmony with a light tone of humor in her voice.
“Female changes? Heels? How the hell does that translate into these?” Chuck grabbed his swollen chest.
“Well, I had a few drinks and you were drunk. From the moment I walked into the bar, you had been staring at my chest. You made terribly sexist comments towards me.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m turning into a woman. Thanks Harmony. That’s just what I wanted.” Sarcasm and anger had overwhelmed Chuck.
“Do you think I wanted this? Do you know what it’s like to be me? Regardless of my intelligence, my generosity, or my kindness, people see no further than my appearance. They see a pair of tits, wide hips, and a curvy bum. I’m a prime piece of ass, and nothing more the second I set foot in any pub,” retorted Harmony.
“No matter how I dress, people see me for my beauty, and never for my personality. I’ve never been seen as a person, just objectified as an idol of lust.” Harmony depressingly stated.
“I’m sorry Chuck, I had a bit too much to drink. Not nearly as much as you, by the way.”
“Well, shit. You had too much to drink and now I’m a chick. This is bullshit!”
Chuck probed his body again. Oddly it, it brought a calming sensation to his state of mind.
“How do we stop this?” Chuck said with a slightly calm tone in his feminine voice.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t really work that way. Once I’ve cursed someone, I’ve never been able to undo it.”
“So, I’m freakin’ stuck this way?” Chuck realized he was in the presence of his dream girl. Screaming profanities wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“I ... I’m afraid so,” said Harmony softly. “While you were asleep, I went out and got you some things. Some of it may fit, some of it may not. I’m not sure how much you’ll change.”
Anger swept over Chuck again. “You need to leave ... Now!” said Chuck. “Leave the bag, I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about this!”
Harmony softly stepped away and left Chuck’s apartment in tears.
Chuck peered into the bag left by Harmony. It contained various sizes of white cotton panties, a few sizes of bras, a couple pairs of shorts, and a few t-shirts. It was by no-means a complete wardrobe and Chuck had no intention of wearing any of it. He threw the bag into the corner of his room.
Chuck again succumbed to a deep sleep.
Chuck awoke to another blurry vision of his alarm clock. “10:46 AM! Shit! I’m late for work!”
Chuck leapt from his bed and immediately to his closet, his boxer shorts fell to his ankles. Chuck grabbed the nearest pair of jeans in sight. As Chuck lowered the jeans to feed them over his feet, long locks of blond hair obstructed Chuck’s view of the pants. Chuck brushed the hair away and focused on the jeans, only to be obstructed by flesh. More specifically, two large orbs of flesh.
Chuck immediately released the jeans from his hands and ran to the mirror, shedding the boxer shorts in stride. Looking back was the fully blossomed body of a young woman.
Chuck didn’t believe the reflection and took a step back. Within the mirror, a gorgeous blond took one step back. Long flowing locks of dirty blond hair stretched from her head and concluded near the small of her back. Chuck leaned forward, arms grabbing at the chest and groin areas. The blond leaned forward, propping up her extremely ample bosom with one hand and covering her womanhood with the other. Chuck had become a buxom blond.
Chuck turned sideways, feeling the weight and momentum of her heavy breasts within her arm. What Chuck saw next was terrifying and intoxicating at the same time. Chuck’s bottom had grown from untoned and flat to firm and voluptuously round.
Chuck turned toward the mirror again, lowering her arms and admiring her hourglass figure. “Holy shit, I’ve got huge tits!” exclaimed Chuck crassly; her voice was surprisingly fully female. Chuck twirled again to take in the full view.
“What the hell am I going to do about work?” remembered Chuck.
The apartment buzzer once again rang. Chuck ran to the bag left by Harmony and foraged through what Harmony had left for him. Chuck quickly donned a pair of white panties, which strained to accommodate her hips and revealed the start of her butt cheeks. Frantically, her attention turned to searching for a bra. Picking the largest example, she had no idea how to put it on properly and struggled with the hooks; the cups fought to encompass her breasts. Frustrated, Chuck finally threw the bra to the floor and leaped towards the closet. She felt a slight pain from her unsupported bosom bouncing as her petit feet planted in front of a pile of clothes within the closet. Chuck grabbed the first t-shirt in sight and pulled it over her head. While baggy, the t-shirt could not hide the bulbous shape of Chuck’s protruding bosom. Finally, Chuck grabbed a pair of sweat pants and pulled them over her thick legs and wide hips, cinching the draw string tight and knotting it off.
She confined her chest with her left arm, her bosom spilling both above and below, while she held the sweatpants up with her right hand, and ran to the door to examine the visitor through the peephole. Harmony had returned.
Chuck slowly opened the door. “What do you want now? Come to turn me into a cow for eating red meat?”
“That can be arranged,” said Harmony with heavy sarcasm. “Look, Chuck, we need to talk.”
“I can’t even begin to fathom what you’re going though,” said Harmony. “I’m terribly sorry about this and I’m completely responsible. The only way to progress is for me to be with you - I want to help you through this. I found out where you work and I already called in sick for you. You’ve got the day off.”
That's the worst STD ever! Nah, jk. Good job! Very well written and paced!
Good story so far. You got some serious writing skills mate.
Mate, anxiously waiting for part 2! And BTW, sick writing skills you got there!
brilliant love this story wow to meet someone like that what a way to go
Your drunk artist, go home
semicolon? Mine's just a colon.
wow. great writing skills!
I loved the story and can wait for part two.