As Rachel starts the water for her shower, the flowery scent overwhelms her. It’s an all consuming smell, and her head starts to ache. The pain is sharp, almost head splitting as she stumbles into the shower, running the warm water over her face.
Her face grows much warmer than usual under her hands, pulsating with warmth. Her jawline is seething hot as it cracks outwards, strong and defined. Rachel’s well taken care of skin slowly roughens, and her headache lessens. It thickens as it becomes uncomfortably scratchy. Small pinpricks appear under her hands as her face is enveloped in an intense itching.
At this, Rachel leaps out of the shower to look in the mirror, but her headache comes back with a vengeance. She has no choice but to retreat back into the shower. Back under the warm water, her headache subsides once more as stubble starts forming across her face. She’ll need to shave afterwards, but her face isn’t too different from before besides a newly killer jawline.
Rachel reaches for the body wash. It’s unscented, but she finds herself wishing it was some manly name like “glacier ice” or “bear tears”. They always cracked her up. She gently lathers it between her hands and moves onto washing her body. As her hands pass over her skin, she becomes almost unbearably warm. Residue from the potion has mixed with the soap she lathered up, and it soaks into her skin without her even noticing. Softly rinsing her chest, she pauses for a second.
“Is it just me or are my boobs a little smaller?” she whispers to herself. That’s crazy, right? She brushes it off and continues rinsing.
Then, she goes to wash her hair. It’s medium length and plain brown, but boys and girls always envied it for how lustrous it always was. She diligently works shampoo though her locks, feeling the foam, and then rinses it out. Even though she knows she should condition it she can’t bring herself to. Some force inside her is stopping her from finishing her normal routine.
Rachel then steps out of the shower and is pleasantly surprised to find her headache hasn’t resurfaced. She quickly wraps a towel around her body and heads to her bedroom, not bothering to check the foggy mirror.
Once she is safely in her room, the warmth starts again. It’s very pleasant, and Rachel doesn’t think much of it. Maybe the heating system is kicking in.
She goes to her dresser and begins picking out an outfit as the warmth is centered in her hands. Without her noticing, her hands expand outward as they become bigger. Then, her fingernails thicken as her hands become tough and rugged. She’s settled on a plain, baggy tshirt, a pair of cargo shorts, and a too large denim jacket. It’s a little more masculine than her general wardrobe, but it should be nice for the day. It’s not like she has plans to go anywhere.
As she pulls on the shorts, the warmth floods to her chest. She struggles a little with the clasp as her newly larger fingers slip over before finally fastening the shorts. She gasps in awe as her B cup chest begins to be absorbed into her. The warmth is almost burning hot as she places her hands on a pair of almost pecs. Then, they stop at AA cups.
Rachel shrieks when her eyes land upon her too large hands. They’re way too big for her small frame, and she can’t believe how it happened. She starts hyperventilating, and the warmth comes back again. This time, it is all consuming and rivals the heat of Mt Shasta.
Painstakingly slowly, her arms begin to fill out with a thicker layer of hair than her peachy down. It darkens rapidly to an deep brown as she feels herself being stretched upwards like taffy. Her head becomes further from the ground as her 5’2” frame enlarges. The sensation makes her head spin as her bones crackle and pop. Pain shoots through her joints with each noise until she finally reaches somewhere around 5’11”.
As her height slows to a stop, something races through her, and she doubles over. Her hips begin to collapse in on themselves with terrifying crunches. Crunch, her hips are slightly wider than her shoulders. Crunch, they’re as wide as her shoulders. Crunch, they’re indistinguishable from any guy around. Nausea then overtakes her as her midsection fills out. Her layer of fat in her tummy as well as her still very feminine butt begin to fade. Her curvy waist, not unlike clay on a sculpture, becomes taut and straight edged. Her breasts become flat and nonexistent, the last tissue fading away.
The nausea collides with mindsplitting pain as her innards shift. Her lower abdomen is on fire, worse than any period cramps she’s ever had before. Slowly, it subsides.
Rachel rushes to grab her phone on her dresser. She frantically opens the ‘Camera’ app to see a stranger staring back at her. Her heart is pounding as that warmth begins to wash over her again. Quickly, she starts to take deep breaths. The warmth subsides.
Rachel examines the person in the screen and finds that it’s not too different from her regular face. There’s a chestnut stubble on her lower face, but she figures that shaving should take care of that. Besides that, she’s got a newly model worthy jawline.
She then assesses her masculine midsection. Boobs and waist no more, now it’s just pecs and thin hips.
She can’t believe these changes as panic rushes over her again. The perfume! She has to get to it before anybody else can mess with it. She’d only spilled a little on herself, and this had happened. There’s still half the bottle in the trash can!
Rachel races downstairs to find that nobody’s home. She runs straight to the trash can, and - without thinking - downs the rest of the potion.
The changes come onto her full force now. Her stubble begins to thicken into a sparse teenaged beard. Her chest begins to cover in a layer of hair as her limbs begin to muscle in. A thin, sinewy layer of muscle lays itself on her limbs. It’s testosterone fueled from her daily activities and workouts. It’s all catching up to her now.
A numbing sensation fills her lower stomach as a new limb forms there. She can’t bring herself to look as hair continues to fill in her body. Her feet ache as they grow to match her height.
Then, the changes subside.
“Oh thank god,” Rachel says, her voice still female. “It’s-“ she’s cut off by a horrifying voice crack. “Over.”
“WHAT THE FUCK!” she screams, her voice now a pleasing tenor.
She can’t believe this. The full severity of her situation is catching up to her now.
“This isn’t real. Isn’t real. Isn’t real,” she chants to herself as she races to the bathroom.
She stands there, almost six feet tall, as a gangly teenaged boy. Her hair is too long and greasy from the lack of conditioner. Her face is unshaven and her eyebrows unfamiliarly large.
She screams.