You nervously sit down on the toilet, trying to ignore how soft your ass feels now, and take stock of your
situation.
Last you remember, you were fully male when you collapsed. Somehow, the "magic juice" Seedy Parker forced you
to drink turned you into a female. Although, you ponder, this could all just be a hallucination you're having
from the "magic juice". (Seriously, how stupid was it to drink that?)
But with boobs like these, it'd have to be one hell of a drug. You're no expert on cup sizes, but they're at
least a C-cup, probably more. They fit into your male shirt rather tightly, which only makes them seem bigger.
You've been trying to withstand the typical response that males always have when they're transgender-ed in
works of fiction, but you really want to squeeze and fondle these things; they're right there, and they're
really quite astounding.
You reach up with your delicate hands and slowly heft your breasts; they're much heavier than they look. As a
man, you'd assumed they were no big deal, but these new ta-tas of yours are rather protruding and awkward. You
give your breasts a good squeeze, mostly just to see how it feels, and as if on cue, you cell phone starts to
ring.
Surprised, you let go of your breasts (and boy, do they jiggle) and reach into your pocket for your phone; no
easy task with your expanded hips. Eventually, you do fish your phone out and answer it.
"H-hello?" You say in your new sultry voice.
"Um... sorry, wrong number." The man on the other side says, then quickly hangs up. You mentally facepalm; of
COURSE no one would recognize your female voice if that called the male you. You check you recent call history
on your phone and see that it was David, a friend from work, that had called you.
Suddenly, the phone begins to ring gain. The caller ID says it's David again. You decide to let it ring this
time and let it go to voicemail. (You're also vaguely frustrated that David had immediately assumed that he'd
dialed the wrong number; for all he knew, you could have had a girl over.)
After a couple minutes, you pick up the phone and check your voicemail, and sure enough, David left a message.
Strangely, you notice that there are quite a few messages on your phone since you last checked. Whatever, you
think, and play David's message:
"Hey, man, it's Dave again. Listen, you gotta pick up your phone. Mr. Hendrickson is getting fuckin' pissed
you didn't show up for work yesterday. You're probably gonna get fired if you don't phone in. Plus, y'know...
I'm worried. Just call soon, alright?"
You look at your phone, confused. Why would you need to show up at work yesterday? Yesterday was Sunday. You
only work weekdays. Your concern rapidly spikes as you look at the clock on your phone: 5:13 PM. When you'd
gotten home from the park, it was only just past six.
Dreading the obvious, you open the calendar and check the day: today is Tuesday.
You've slept almost two days straight.
You toss your phone to the floor in frustration. You want to pull your hair out, you're so angry. You're whole
life has been flushed down the drain thanks to that old black janitor, and you don't know what to do about it.
Then, Seedy's departing words come back to you : "Jes' don't be surprised if you find ya'self comin' back."
With resolve, you stand up and try to ignore the wobble of your breasts. The only way to fix any of this will
probably involve confronting Seedy directly. You hate the idea of doing exactly what he expects you to do, but
you can't think of any other options, and really, this is the only idea you have.
You grab a jacket from your room (of course, there's no way for you to button up the front; funny how your
chest as a female is so much larger than it was as a male) and quickly leave your house. You remember the path
to the park almost exactly, and you're eager to get your womanification reversed.
Unfortunately, you've forgotten to pick you phone up from the floor when you left the house. It begins to ring
again, and with no one there to answer it, the call goes to voicemail:
"Dave again. Look, whatever's going on with you, gimme a call. We're supposed to be friends. If you want, I'll
be down at Arcadia FunLand tonight. The place just reopened. Call me if you wanna meet up."
---
You soon realize that even a brisk jog is too much motion for you to make without a bra, as your breasts seem
to bounce almost unnaturally, like they're ignoring physics. You almost laugh; not much about you're current
situation could be considered "natural". You resign your self to walking quickly.
Soon enough, you come across the huge steel gates that mark the entrance to the park. Surprisingly, there's
quite a crowd of people walking into the park. Vaguely, you recall Seedy saying that the park wasn't open, so
it must be open now. You decide this is a good thing, since it will make it harder for Seedy to see you
coming. You do your best to slip into the crowd and are suddenly very self conscious about yourself. You feel
like you should have changed out of your ill fitting clothes, but you know that nothing else you own would fit
well anyway. Still, you feel like your chest and rear are both sticking out way to much.
Luckily, no one pays you much attention. They're all busy talking about how the old Arcadia FunLand that had
closed down back in the 1960's was recently remodeled and reopened by unknown benefactors. In fact, you catch
on, no one had even heard of the remodeling at all, and yet somehow word had gotten around and now, Arcadia
FunLand was the new big thing. You mentally sigh in relief; at least you weren't crazy for not hearing about
this before.
The crowd comes upon the familiar looking pier over the water, and the large "Arcadia FunLand" sign is now lit
up in full, flashing color. The whole amusement park, in fact, looks incredibly lively; the roller coaster is
lit up and you can hears the joyful screams of people riding the coaster, the merry-go-round is slowly
spinning and putting on a colorful light show, and the midway is bustling with games and trade.
But you have only one thing on your mind: Seedy Parker.