Since the fitted sheet hadn’t caused him any problems, Justin folded it a few times and worked it into something resembling a toga. He was used to wearing something like this and nothing else back in his frat days, but the lack of a safety pin made it awkward to keep on. Unfortunately, material felt rough on his sensitive skin and left the right puffy nipple exposed. This little bit of control of the situation was the confidence boost that he was looking for though.
Glaring around at the dull walls, he made a lewd gesture in the air and lifted the material up to expose his diminished cock. A big fuck you to the bitch. I still got this, cunt! And when I get out of here I’m getting everything back that I should have! Because I’m a doctor and I have the money to sue your ass! Not only that, I’m connected with all my good buddies going back to college. He pondered and reflected on the booty calls. One of those women had to be the one who trapped him here with these mind altering drugs or whatever they were.
It took some effort, even with a little spit, but thinking about the good bitches back in college who wouldn’t fuck him over like this was enough to get a load spurting out of his hard cock. It didn’t have the usual force or travel and a little bit dribbled on the carpet at his feet while most of it landed on the pile of bedsheets, but the show of manhood got him strutting his way around the room. Territory marked. He was the big dog.
Not that it changed his present situation. Awkwardly trying to keep the toga on, he shuffled over to the front door and considered a few new angles. Dropping down low, he squinted one eye and closed the other while trying to glimpse some glimmer of the world outside from underneath the door. All he could really see was a bit of gray haze that could’ve simply been the carpet or the overhead lighting. Or just a gray wall behind it.
Though he lacked his familiar musculature, he still tried to pry his fingers in the gap and loosen the lock. The hinges were what he tried next but they were either pounded in securely or that part was one piece. No obvious screws or nails showed though. It was enough to make him wonder if the door was actually fake.
Next to the door, he finally got a good look at the closet beside the cabinet. No clothing but a handful of flimsy plastic hangers. Working his way to the right, he stood in front of the safe with his arms folded. Lifting it up and throwing it against something wasn’t a possibility as it was bolted to the shelf and the shelf was secured to the cabinet and the cabinet was too heavy to move. Pulling open the other door, he soon found a lacy, immense green bra on one of those hangers. At the bottom were a pair of red heels.
His immediate response was a quick and decisive, “Nope!” She may have gotten him once because he didn’t know and a second time by mistake but he knew the dangers now. That wasn’t going to work again. Shutting both doors, he inspected the table again and kept far away from the carnation in the flower vase. Circling around to his drying cum on the sheets, he poked the frosted glass beside the bed. It didn’t rattle, shake, or have any inkling it might break. Once again, no matter how carefully he peered out, everything just seemed like a hazy cloud.
Finally checking out the bathroom, he thought it seemed rather stylish for a hotel space. The shower was all glass, not frosted at all, with a stainless steel head and some generic soaps and shampoos on the side. A simple, compact toilet filled the near corner and a tan wooden counter with several drawers and doors filled the rest. No trashcan. No further windows or openings. And no other possibilities of escape.
Cautiously leaning on the counter, Justin turned the knobs on the faucet carefully and brushed his finger against the stream. Nothing weird. Picking up the small bar of soap set to the side, it didn’t take more than a quick foaming rinse for him to realize he had paid attention to the wrong danger. The soap slipped from his hands and slid around the basin as shimmering tingles filled him again.
Cursing as the room spun, he braced himself and watched his reflection in the bathroom mirror as the unsecured fitted sheet plopped to the ground. This afforded him a surreal and full view of his height gradually dipping. The sensation was like vertigo mixed with falling or an elevator settling into place before the doors open. The top of the mirror previously missed the top of his head, but now all of it could be seen.
Once the tingles had thoroughly thrashed his stability, they tightened around his waist like a vice. Part of them was glad the damn thing wasn’t turning him into a fatty, but the slim girlish cave-in of his waist wasn’t much better. It overemphasized his hip bones in a way that could only remind him of a model he fucked several years ago. If only it quit there.
But it was unrelenting in its assault. His face suddenly felt like he drenched it in something spicy. The warmth melted the masculine edges and reshaped them with softness. His chin was gentle and pert with a delicate curve. Freckles dotted the edge of his nose, which had taken on a completely foreign, dainty shape. He grumbled that even if he was able to grow hair on this again, he would be forever labeled a soft, beta “soy boy”. The worst though was the smoky traces around his eyes with feminine curves and curls to his lashes. Just looking back at his eyes got him a little bit hard. The eyebrows were still bushy but in a sloping, reddish shape. The ultimate indignation though was how his lips puffed out with thick pouty pinkness that he couldn’t pull in or hide. It was like they had a natural gloss and lipstick accentuating them. Fuck, whatever girls he was able to bed after this would be asking for his make up and skin routine.
And the damn thing wouldn’t let him rest, as his growls and coughs also felt neutered. His voice pitched up higher and higher and whatever efforts he tried to bring it back to where it should’ve been were resisted by the muscles in his throat. It didn’t specifically sound girly, rather he denounced it as “kind of faggy”, but it felt at the cliff’s edge of turning into a girl voice. At best, he could wrestle it into a hint of a young guy or a pissed off tomboy. Not that this round would give him even more than a moment to turn the sound over in his throat before it plunged back into his torso. This time, it only had eyes for his hips.
It actually itched and hurt as his hip bones pressed against his fleshy, soft sides. If he wasn’t paying attention to it, then it wasn’t much of a shift on its own but with the addition of his waistline slowly carving towards an hourglass and the desperate loss of his musculature, it was impossible to not see. And it didn’t just affect his appearance as he turned and shifted in place to get a better look, the feeling of how his legs connected to his hip and the roll of his behind felt naggingly strange. It wasn’t yet a womanly sashay but, like everything else, it was a continual, gradual slip in the wrong direction.
The absolute destruction of his thick manly muscles along his shoulders and arms, not to mention what hard texture his legs once possessed reduced to polished softness, felt like a foregone conclusion and the ultimate indignity. He feared that he might not even be able to lift the men’s bar at the gym now, never mind putting any weight on the damn thing. If he was a different sort of man then he might find tears in his eyes, but instead he firmly and ineffectually pounded his frail fists on the counter with the absorbing shock of gentle flesh vibrating at his shoulders. It hurt but he was a man and he could take it.
More expletives came when the tingling sought out his chest. He pressed against the flesh beneath his swollen nipples, but it refused to yield to his will. The development wasn’t as bad as his fears, but it still felt grotesque on what remained of his body. He’d found a good bit of fun even in those ladies who couldn’t fill in A cup. This wasn’t even as bad as that but it was beyond the ambiguity of being pudgy. What adorned his chest was a pair of girlish, pubescent breast buds. Milk ducks and pliable flesh were waiting to be unleashed by the next surge of this mad scientist insanity or magic or whatever the hell it was. It jiggled lightly, even with his best efforts to restrain it.
The rustling and settling of his shaggy, now clearly red hair was actually a respite compared with the rest of the onslaught he had to endure. Of course, it had to follow that up by returning to his waist, although dipping lower and spreading a rash of tingles across his ass. The hard edges and flatness filled out with supple softness. Nothing to challenge the fit of his pants but another stinging embarrassment. But it had one final target, shifting around to his front.
Howling in horror, Justin clung to what was left of his dick as the inches sunk into his groin. The average length diminished to a shy stub without the explanation of coldness. His balls pulled flush against his crotch instead of dangling and the bare inch or two of what was left between his legs was more shameful than a child’s. It didn’t gain length when it automatically hardened, it just pointed out uselessly.
Scowling in his emasculated state, Justin barely gave a shit when the voice returned with her next comment, “Watch out there. Anything in this place could be seeded with a surprise. I bet that soap smells so good. You should use it more often. That’s three down and here’s your next letter. The letter L. I wonder what it could be!”
What were the others? Shit, E and A? Leah? No, that was four. Hazel? He could fucking try it. At least there wasn’t a penalty for guessing… He hoped. Standing there though, he felt a weird sensation wash over him. The vision in the mirror was still more him than some chick, but without looking too hard and mostly focusing on the face, it was turning him on.
The soft lines of the muscles, the slender hairless shapes. The curve and rise of the waist with the bump of hips. The accent sloping out from the ass. The way the legs suggested something soft between despite the miniature, jutting mushroom. Those lips and that hair reminded him of a redheaded hottie somewhere in the distant past. Her pink lips parted and pouted yearningly. Below, he throbbed with need and barely needed a touch to release another load, perhaps his last. The cum felt strange and slick beneath his fingers, clear and glossy and wet with just the frailest milky stickiness. Oh God… What was he becoming?
Despite his shame, arousal lingered with painful, aching pleasure before he managed to bring himself to one more climax. This time, it didn’t look milky at all. Staggering towards the open doorway, Justin considered what he could possibly do next to save his manhood.