Clyde Burnets went to sleep that night frustrated and annoyed. Life was so unfair, a short skirt the ass to fill, and a matching top seemed to be all that was needed for any of the secretaries in the office to get by. Sure, sometimee the shorter the skirt the better. You'd spotted a few patted asses, when you'd dropped in your time sheets. But that had been greeted with giggles and smiles.
They didn't look that competent, nor the job that hard. But, his paperwork kept getting fouled up, the overtime ending up needing to be resubmitted, and the expenses endlessly challenged despite the receipts he'd enclosed. Thank God, her job wasn't safety-critical like yours. No lives, or air-worthiness certificates hung on her work.
Clyde tossed and turned in his sleep, restless as he was reshaped. Waking Clyde found himself in a vastly different world. Knowing something was wrong, as soon as he woke. The weight on his chest could signal a heart attack. Casting the sheets aside, he dived for the phone.
It only penetrated it wasn't a heart attack, as the weight shifted. One foot tangled in the bedding, he fell face first. Face first onto those breasts that shouldn't have been there. There on his chest!?
Looking back, he saw the leg that belonged to a woman, twisted in the sheets. His heart pounding, he had to lever himself onto his elbow. The swaying of his bust now undeniable. He was a she! The woman in the mirror was exposed utterly, copying her moves exactly with Clyde's. She was a woman in every way. The wide hips, and the... the pussy.
She shuddered at the idea of having her own. It was so alien, and definitely didn't belong. But, splayed out as she was, her own wide hips were fully on display. The mirror revealing the womanly ass she had too.
It was mortifying to untangle herself, needing to use her hands to free herself, she fought for calm as she did. As she rose to stand properly, she still wanted to call someone. Alas, who couldn't come to her mind. This certainly wasn't a heart attack.
Glancing to her phone, it looked different. Not the same functional device, now it was in a pink bedazzled case, and looked as girly as it was possible to be. She didn't want to touch it, in case it was infectious. At the same time, she knew things couldn't get much worse.
Her mind racing, she snatched up the purse popping it open. She needed to confirm her nightmare fears. She found what she'd dreaded. Her company ID was inside, and she was listed as a secretary. 'Belinda Jane Simmons' was on the driving licence. The same name embossed on her bank cards.
Groaning in despair, she was BJ Simmons, she could already imagine the nicknames, the lewd suggestions, jokes and innuendo.
She fell back on the old engineering staple, a big mug of strong coffee to wake her up, and allow the problem to percolate through her brain. After the first few sips, she could savour the flavour, enjoy the details of the room. She was sure this was too real to be a dream, and she wasn't going to wake up.
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