Ronnie watched Jackie saunter away, mesmerized by the twitch of her ass in her painted on jeans. What the hell was that, he pondered, staring at the camera.
He made out the lettering around the dial. It looked like it said reverse something. Reverse what? Jack had been a far right conservative and became a loopy lefty lady. He wondered what it would do to him and inhaled deeply, feeling the heft of his giant beer belly.
Would it make me a lady he asked himself. No, he reasoned. Jack was so macho and a big MRA so no wonder his reverse was a lady. Ronnie didn’t think his opposite was a lady. “I bet it’s a fit rich dude!” he exclaimed. He smiled and turned the camera on himself and took the plunge.
His mind dogged for a moment, then he felt better than he had in years. No hangover and no heartburn. He felt goosebumps on his legs, he could feel he was wearing tight shorts and it was a cold morning. The shorts fit him oddly. So did the right elastic fabric digging into his midsection around his chest. Why did his chest feel so floaty and extended. He looked down.
His legs were sculpted. He could see his tight calves sweep hairlessly up to his knees. His shorts only came to the very top of his lovely thighs and clung tightly to his crotch. He felt his crotch, it was different down there, a small mound of flesh with a slit he could feel through the fabric.
He screamed and passed out.
Bobby was the foreman of the worksite. He heard a woman scream and rushed over. Passed out in the mud he saw a you g white woman, maybe early twenties. She was dressed in jogging gear and he could see her ample tits heaving. She was gorgeous. Beside her lay a camera. Bobby moves towards her...