Writer - Second Chances

The alarm jolted George awake with such a shock that he spent a few moments remaining in bed, stunned. His eyes were open, he could feel his body starting to move, but his brain was still firmly entrenched in sleep. The panic hit him all at once, his mind and body coming together for a moment of terrified awareness. He wrested control, forcing himself awake and to stare at his phone. The small device screamed beside him as it played the backup-backup alarm once more. He stared at it in disbelief – how could he have slept through all of his alarms?

The man launched himself out of bed with all the agility he could manage, manoeuvring his large belly out of the sheets. He didn’t even need to check the clock on the wall to know the reality of his situation: he was late for work. George reached into his wardrobe and grabbed the first thing he found, throwing it over his shoulders as he ran down the stairs. It was some sort of long, grey cardigan that he didn’t recognise, coming in close over his body. Knowing he had no time to waste, he briefly stole a glance in the mirror by the front door as he slid on a pair of trainers and shoved his ID card into his pocket. His brown hair and beard looked even more dishevelled than usual, the speed which he was hurtling through his house leaving him no time to sort it. He only hoped he’d be able to at least brush his fingers through his unruly mop by the time he arrived at the office.

Upon opening the front door, the sun glared bright down at George. He scowled, fumbling around indoors for a pair of sunglasses, quickly putting them on as he got into his car. They weren’t the pair he had expected. In the place of the familiar aviators were blue tinted fashionable frames that sat low on his nose. As he drove, George found he kept having to slide them back up his nose to shield his eyes.

Every traffic light he crossed on his drive seemed to grow red as he approached, and the cars in front felt as though they were moving at a mockingly slow crawl. The few moments of open road that George had, he found that he couldn’t help but drive quickly, hoping that no one would catch him speeding. His car finally slowed down as he reached the car park, a wide strip of tarmac outside the large publishing house that George had worked at for the past few years. George’s regular spot was rudely taken by a car he didn’t recognise, so he had to park further away from the building than usual, adding precious minutes onto his already delayed entrance to work. The man grumbled to himself as he made his way inside, flashing his ID card to the security guard at the entrance.

“Have a lovely day!” the guard’s voice called after him, cheerful.

“You too…” George mumbled, looking back over his shoulder. The guard’s eyes were fixed on him, staring at him as he power-walked through the foyer. Was there something wrong with him? He had seen that guard hundreds of times over the years, but he had never spoken so much as a word to him. George doubted that his panicked, rushing demeanour was approachable. As George climbed the familiar stairs up to the IT department and his desk, he could feel the people in the foyer staring. He turned quickly, and noticed them turn their heads, pretending to have not just been looking. George rolled his eyes, pushing through the doors into the IT department.

Now that he was in familiar territory, he slowed his pace. He suddenly realised how quickly he had been breathing, having not done so much cardio for years. What he needed was a relaxing day spent answering simple queries to give him a chance to relax after his frantic morning. He needed nothing more than a printer jam to clear, or maybe a simple bug fix in one of the writer’s word processors. He took off his glasses, sliding them into his other empty pocket. He wasn’t sure where he had bought them, their style was so utterly removed from what he usually had about the house.

“Hi, can I help you?” his colleague Darren said, walking towards him. George managed a light chuckle.

“Oh, lay off it Darren. I’m never usually late – no need to pretend you’ve never seen me before”, George said, moving closer to his desk. The look in Darren’s stern features made him stop. “What?” George asked, needing something to fill the silence.

“Nothing.” Darren said, quickly averting his eyes. “I just didn’t expect you to know who I am, that’s all.”

“Are you kidding me?” George scoffed. “I’ve worked here for three years, Darren. Of course I know who you are!”

“You’ve never been up to this department before though, right?” Darren asked. George could see his other colleagues poking their heads round their cubicles, looking at him with a strange curiosity. “It just surprised me, that’s all. Anyway, how can we help?”

“Help?” George asked, genuinely confused.

“Yeah. This is tech support. How can we help?” Darren said. His voice was softer than George was used to, his face taking on an unfamiliar kindness.

“Is this a prank or something?” George said, once again looking to his other colleagues who all swiftly buried their heads into their own workstations when he locked eyes with them. “I work here, Darren. I do tech support. Just like you.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Miss?” Darren asked, moving closer.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘Miss’?” George blurted out, backing away slightly. Something felt incredibly uncomfortable. He was in the office space that was once his sanctuary from the busyness of the rest of the building, but everyone was looking at him like he was a complete stranger. “Look, I’ll prove it to you – “ George said, grabbing his ID badge and holding it out to Darren. “See?”

“I think you’re in the wrong place, Elaheh.” Darren said, smiling warmly and turning the ID badge back round to George. It was the same badge he had always carried with him at work, with the same tired George staring back from the ID photograph. The text underneath the image was what threw him. Instead of saying his name and ‘Technical Support’, instead was written ‘Elaheh Ahmad – Writer’.

George felt faint. Something was wrong. He could hear his breathing coming faster and faster in his ears.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?” Darren said, his voice echoing uselessly. George looked down at himself. His hands and body were the same as usual, but he now realised what he was wearing. Instead of the casual, wrap around cardigan he had expected, he noticed he was actually wearing a tight grey dress, clinging to his large body, and plunging at his neckline.

“What’s going on?” he murmured, backing away from his colleagues. “I think I need to go…” he said, crashing back through the doors and heading downstairs, out to his car.

After taking several moments to steady his breathing, he set off home. “I’m just over tired, I should head back to bed”, George said to himself as he carefully retraced the route from earlier that day. “I must have somehow put on some woman’s clothes without realising it”, George reasoned, though he knew that no woman had visited his home for a long time, let alone one that would leave such a bold outfit. “I grabbed someone else’s ID – easy mistake to make”, George said, smiling weakly to himself in the mirror in a poor attempt at reassurance. He didn’t dare to look at the ID card in his pocket. The picture was correct, but the name was not. Something had changed far beyond a simple mistaken card, and George knew it.

Once home, he headed straight to bed. Despite having an unintentional lay in, the stress of the day had left him exhausted. George stripped off the strange dress and slid under the covers, soon drifting off to sleep.

As George recovered from his day with a dreamless sleep, small changes began to work through his body. Slowly, the fat that had built up over years of inactivity and laziness began to bubble and painlessly fade away. George’s prominent gut was gone, replaced by smooth abs. The fat that had been clinging to his body for so many years was fading more with very second spent sleeping. His arms and legs slimmed down, losing their bulk. The fat across his body had almost entirely gone, leaving him slim, and far lighter than his once clumsy frame was the night before.

Across George’s body, his hair began to warp and change. The body hair across his arms, legs, and torso faded until there was nothing left, as though he had spent long hours waxing and shaving to remove every inch of hair. The exception of this was around his genitals, where a small patch was left just above his groin. As George turned against the pillow, his full beard receded back into his face, leaving his face looking younger and far less masculine. His eyebrows, once unkempt and ragged grew far more refined, elongating slightly. The brown hair atop his beard shifted lighter, with streaks of blonde growing through it. It didn’t grow any longer than the unruly mop he always had, but the hair was now cleaner and tidier, strengthened through a rigorous routine of shampoos and conditioners.

Towards the early hours of the morning, George stretched and yawned in his sleep. His bones painlessly cracked and reformed with each movement. His shoulders shrunk inwards, and his hips widened ever so slightly. His spine reformed, shrinking his height by several inches. The tanned skin across his arms and face spread across his nude body. As George’s skin tone shifted, the skin itself changed character, growing softer, more malleable, and more sensitive. Physically, George resembled little of the man he once was. His body now toed the line between male and female, completely androgynous.

George woke smiling, just before his first alarm. The man felt refreshed. He took a moment to stay in bed, breathing in the fresh morning air. Compared to the rush of the day before, he was glad that he could spend his morning at a slightly slower pace now that he wasn’t rushing after his alarm. Slowly, he rolled out of bed, standing up in the gloom of the room with a lightness he hadn’t noticed for many years. He flicked on the bedside light and stared in the mirror, his eyes taking some time to adjust to what he saw. Looking back at him was someone that looked incredibly familiar, but completely different to what he expected to see in his mirror. His body was utterly changed. George stared down at his thinner features, his softer skin, looking between the shocked figure in the mirror and the body he was looking down at. He realised he had to angle the mirror down slightly, his height having reduced.

He knew that something was wrong – he knew that people don’t just wake up having lost an incredible amount of weight, their body reformed into something far less masculine. But as George looked over his body, he resisted the rising panic that threatened to swallow him. Wasn’t this body better than his old one? He took a few shaky steps around his room, feeling how weightless he felt, how graceful. The smile he had woken up with grew all the more real. George took his ID card from the counter, the name ‘Elaheh Ahmad’ feeling more comfortable as he spoke it aloud. This morning, the photograph had changed. The old George was gone, a smiling, androgynous person looking back at him.

Despite the strange situation, George knew he couldn’t afford any more mistakes at work after yesterday’s hasty exit from the office. If everyone was treating him like he was Elaheh, he at least thought he should try and act like it and make his way to the writer’s room this morning. He walked over to his wardrobe, flinging the doors open.

There were rows upon rows of skimpy dresses, large bras, and a huge pile of high heeled shoes taking up much of the floorspace in the wardrobe. A moment of sadness struck him as he considered all the old clothes that were now gone – old comic t shirts and reliable pairs of jeans. George would never have described himself as fashionable, but at least he knew what he liked. The clothing before him was completely foreign to George – he didn’t even know how to start putting them on, let alone wearing them. It was the wardrobe of someone who enjoyed being seen, and George had never seen the thrill of that, preferring to lurk outside of notice as much as possible.

Before he put on anything else, George knew he’d have to slip on some underwear. He was unsurprised to find his underwear drawer had undergone a similar transformation – the worn cotton boxers that were like old friends were gone. In their place were numerous pairs of lacy and silky underwear. As George rummaged through, trying to find something vaguely ‘ordinary’, he found several pairs of expensive looking lingerie. Quickly, he grabbed a pair of panties, slipping them on. Despite not being designed for his body, they were oddly comfortable, fitting perfectly over his widened hips. His manhood was carefully cradled in soft silk. Determined to find something that covered himself so as to avoid the staring from the day before, George looked through the wardrobe for something to wear.

A tight-fitting orange top was the most that George could find that would cover his torso, and he slipped it on. The fabric was thin, clinging tight to his softer skin, but in comparison to everything else in the wardrobe it was as conservative as he was able to find. The wardrobe was far better organised than his old one had ever been, and he soon found a pair of jeans amongst the myriad short skirts and tight leggings. To his dismay, when he slipped them on, he found several stylised holes ripped into them, exposing his skin. Reluctantly, George pulled them up over his hips. They were the best that he was going to find. Besides, he couldn’t spend all morning getting dressed, he had to get to work.

Soon, George was driving in with far less haste than the day before. Despite the odd changes with his body, he felt more relaxed than he had expected. Finding a space in the company car park, he headed inside, waving his ID badge to the security guard who smiled warmly at him – George returned the smile. It was nice to be noticed, for once. He looked at his ID badge, held tight in his smaller hands. As much as he knew he needed to go into the writer’s room, he thought he should at least swing by the IT desk first.

“Hey Elaheh!” Darren said as he entered sheepishly. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah!” George said warmly. He always knew that Darren was taller than him, but today he seemed to tower over him. “That’s actually why I thought I’d come in this morning. I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I think I ate something funny, must have gotten confused.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Darren said with a smile. George found himself blushing as the tall man made eye contact with him, quickly looking away. “It happens sometimes, no sweat.” Darren continued, that warm look coming across his face once more. George wasn’t sure why he felt like he couldn’t look at the man. He had spoken to Darren hundreds of times in his life.

“Thanks Darren, I appreciate it. Anyway, I better get back to work!” George said quickly.

“Sure. Happy writing!” Darren said.

“Writing! Exactly, that’s what I do! That’s my job!” George said smiling, a light laugh coming from his lips as he tried to make the strange sentence seem like a bad joke. He headed out of the door quickly, knowing that his former colleagues were no doubt staring at him as soon as he turned around.

George eventually spotted his desk in the writer’s room, where several other writers were sat around on comfortable chairs, working on manuscripts. A small chorus of “Hey Elaheh!” had summoned him down as he made small talk with the many people who wished him good morning. George was certain he hadn’t spoken to so many people in his life. He wondered if this is what it actually felt like to be popular and listened to, surrounded by friends and colleagues. He knew that he could make the most boring of statements and everyone would hang upon every word that he said. Making his apologies, George got to his desk. He turned on his computer to find a novel half finished. As he skimmed over the pages, the plot was somehow coming back to him. George knew there was no way he’d have known what this ‘Elaheh’ was working on – he had only ever been in this room to do some basic tech support before slinking away back to his familiar desk. Despite this, he found that he was able to read quickly, the names of characters soon seeming as familiar to him as if they were old friends. He could tell that he was writing a contemporary romance novel about a woman who had to choose between their childhood love and the latest crush she was head over heels for. George was never one for reading trashy romance stories, but as he read over Elaheh’s work, he found himself getting more and more into it. After several hours, he had reached the end of the manuscript so far, the blinking cursor reminding him that it was up to him to finish the story.

Taking a deep breath, George began to write, his fingers clicking against the keys. He knew that he wasn’t a creative person – he was practical, solving problems with technology. But somehow, the words were flying from his brain and onto the page, weaving a rich narrative of love and passion that had him enthralled. There was a story deep within him that was dying to get out. The hours soon passed with George barely stopping to take a break, smiling at the screen as word after word tumbled down onto the page. The sound of his fingers hitting the keys had gradually changed. His nails had grown longer, bright red nail polish accentuating each thin digit and colliding with each key with a satisfying ‘click’. Satisfied, George leant back in his chair, twirling his hair around one finger. The sensation struck George as strange. Finding a small makeup mirror on his desk, he looked at his hair. The short mop from earlier was gone, replaced by long tumbling strands of blonde hair. He ran his fingers through it, toying with his locks as they fell down over his shoulders. It must have grown longer without George realising, him being too busy with the story to notice.

“Do you want a hairband?” came a woman’s voice, next to him. George looked up from his screen to see a beautiful woman, smiling kindly at him. “You usually have it up”, she said, holding out a small brown hairband. George took it with a nod of thanks, finding it strangely easy to tie his hair up in a high ponytail, the hair delicately brushing at the back of his neck.

“Thanks”, George said. He recognised the woman as one of the other writers from earlier. “I must have forgotten it when I came in this morning.”

“You were off yesterday, weren’t you?” the other writer said. “You should take things easy if you’re unwell. We don’t want you getting the rest of the office sick, Elaheh!” she said with a teasing smirk. George laughed, the other woman going back to her seat.

Before today, he would never have expected a woman like that to talk to him, let alone help him fix his appearance. He was beginning to see the kindness inherent in everyone around him. He heeded the woman’s advice, saving his work and shutting off the computer for the day. With a wave at his friends, George headed out of the door, back to his home.

When George sunk into bed at the end of the productive day, he considered his situation. He had definitely had a more normal day than the day before, even with the changes that his body had undergone and the unfamiliar job he found himself doing. At first, not being with his IT colleagues felt odd, but by the time that he was sat down and writing his novel, he realised he enjoyed that far more than installing new drivers or replacing old headsets. As George slowly drifted off to sleep, one thought was clear in his mind, cutting through the confusion of his situation: he was definitely happier than he was the day before.

During the night, the changes continued. The fat that had disappeared from George’s once chubby body was slowly returning, but not where he would have expected. His hips remained their newly thin size, but soon his rear was blossoming into rich, womanly curves. Under the covers, George’s once miniscule behind was gone, supplanted by a broad, soft backside that would stretch even the most forgiving of garments. His thighs followed suit, growing thicker and thicker as the night wore on. The fat bubbled on George’s chest, making his nipples grow puffy as two breasts began to form. Throughout the night they grew larger and larger: soft, heavy globes that were easily the size of his face. George was left with breath-taking, almost unnatural curves that would draw the eye of anyone.

As it lay against the pillow, George’s face shifted. While yesterday he still was visibly George, now there was no trace of the man that he once was. High cheekbones emerged, and large, pouting, kissable lips. His jawline lost its square edge, becoming sharper and more womanly. George’s nose slimmed down, now perfectly symmetrical. His skin grew several shades darker, until any hint of Caucasian ancestry was gone. George was now a young, beautiful, Persian woman – except for one thing.

In the early hours, George’s manhood began to shrink. Nestled between two thick thighs, it reduced in size until it was little more than a nub. Nerve endings suddenly flooded into it, as it transformed into a sensitive clitoris. Beneath it, a slit formed, George’s testes sliding up inside of him and bursting into fertile, feminine organs. Nothing of him remained.

George heard something buzzing beside his head, and awoke. In all the drama of the past two days, he had completely forgotten about his phone which now was pinging and buzzing furiously beside him. Still half-asleep, he picked up the phone, the facial recognition immediately unlocking and taking him to his Instagram, where hundreds of messages and likes waited for him. George found himself scrolling through, long nails playing across the touch screen. As he scrolled through Elaheh’s profile, with each post a new memory was forming in his mind. It was more than just an endless display of selfies and new outfits, but a timeline of her life. Soon, George found that he could remember all of the exciting holidays abroad he had had, and most clear came all the memories of Elaheh’s former relationships. He checked the profile’s direct messages, finding many former lovers, men and women, the intimate details of their time together seeming as real as if it had happened yesterday. He quickly browsed through his photos, finding one of the few selfies that hadn’t been posted already to his socials. He added a quick caption – ‘Ready for what the day will bring!’ and hit ‘post’.

Soon, a flurry of fresh notifications came in. George stood up out of bed, finding his whole centre of gravity had shifted with the massive weight distribution that his body had gone through. He looked at himself in the mirror, amazed at the beautiful body before him, yet even more amazed that it was his. He squeezed at his large, heavy breasts, feeling the pleasurable tingle running through his body as his nails brushed against his nipple. This body was incredible.

His phone continued buzzing. Was this the life that George had been missing all of this time? As he thought back to his life before the changes, he realised now how sad he had been. Stuck in a job with no progression, with no real friends that cared about him. He was alone, and utterly unable to change things. Now that he was blessed with Elaheh’s goddess like figure, his dislike of his former body grew all the stronger. He had been stuck in a rut – unable to change his body he hated it, but wanting to change it because of that very same hate. Now, George thought as he stared deep into Elaheh’s eyes in the mirror, everything would change. He had been given a second chance, and George was going to embrace it. This was the life he never knew he had been craving – he knew he was happier as a beautiful, intelligent woman than he had ever been as George. He felt confident in himself, taking great joy in people looking at him and admiring his work. As he opened the phone and skimmed through the hundreds of notifications, he knew he had made the right choice. The attention was intoxicating, and he knew how to get more of it.

With a spring in his step, George went over to the wardrobe, finding a white dress that previously he had dismissed as being too skimpy. Now, he wanted to get noticed. He slid it on, loving how it left his midriff teasingly exposed and his deep cleavage eye-catchingly obvious. It was an outfit that screamed for attention, and George was finally feeling confident enough to wear it.

Opening a drawer beside his mirror, George found an entire arsenal of makeup. Once, the various powders and lotions would have been a mystery, but as he read each label he could feel that he instinctively knew what each one did, and knew exactly how to make his already beautiful features all the more noticeable. He set to work, humming cheerfully to himself as dark foundation was applied and bold highlighting brought out his cheekbones. Some eyeliner emphasised his already enticing eyes even further, and after applying some rich purple lipstick, George couldn’t help but to blow himself a kiss in the mirror, giggling.

He pulled his beautiful blonde hair back over his face, making sure his features were at the forefront. It tumbled seductively over his shoulders, two long strands framing his features. George grabbed his ID badge, seeing the photo now completely changed into that of Elaheh Ahmad. He said the name aloud, putting his old self aside. This was who he was now, and he welcomed it.

As Elaheh walked into the office some time later, she could feel everyone’s eyes on her. The embarrassment she would have once felt in another life was nowhere to be found. She was a confident, powerful woman, and was proud to show off the body that she had worked hard for. With each click of her heels, her curves moved slowly across the foyer. She could feel her breasts bouncing slightly with every step, her blonde hair swaying with the movement. This was her life now, and she loved it. The looks she was getting were sending an exciting thrill through her. She wasn’t just being seen, but being adored, being lusted over. The feeling was addictive, and Elaheh knew she would be chasing it constantly. Despite knowing that she could have had anyone in that office, as Elaheh climbed the steps up to the IT department, there was only one person she knew she wanted.

She tossed her hair over her shoulders as she walked in, the air conditioning cold on her sensitive skin. Darren, tall and handsome, soon appeared, walking over to her with a smug confidence that Elaheh found intriguing.

“Three days in a row, Elaheh! To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said with a smirk. There was an unspoken understanding between them that Elaheh had never noticed before. He wanted her, and she wanted him. They were playing a game, each doing everything to teasingly ignore the burning chemistry between them.

“Any technical support I can help with?” Darren asked sarcastically. Elaheh could feel the strain he was going under, trying to not stare at her breasts, out on display. She rolled her shoulders, making them even more obvious. She was enjoying this far more than she expected.

“I was actually hoping to ask you for a favour – something out of work”, she said, her voice smooth as her luscious lips parted.

“A favour?” Darren asked, confused.

“Would you like to come out with me tonight? I was thinking of getting some dinner, and would love to have someone accompany me”, she responded.

“You mean, as a date?” Darren said. Despite the man’s confidence, Elaheh could tell he was surprised at how forward she was being.

“If that’s not too much trouble?” she said, placing one hand on her curving hip, feeling her weight shift.

“Of course not! No, that would be great!”

“Fantastic. Shall I meet you here after work?”

“Yeah, that would be perfect. See you then, Elaheh.”

“See you later, Darren”, Elaheh said, making sure to saunter her hips as she went back to the door.

If this was the life she had accepted, she needed someone like Darren to help her explore it. As she went down to the writer’s room, Elaheh grinned. She had just thought of the perfect ending for her novel.

=====

Here's a fun story for GWW1992! Playing with the perspective of how people see George versus how he sees himself was a nice challenge. I hope you enjoy reading it!