Health pill

 — Dr. Levitt, are you messing with me?! — Garrett Wilson's voice boomed through the library, though he was clearly trying to hold himself together. He had to leave an important meeting—one where multimillion-dollar deals were on the line—simply because his body suddenly started acting… strange. At first, it was just a light tingling in his chest, something he tried to ignore. But soon the sensation became unbearable. Something was definitely wrong.

Garrett had slipped away from the conference room, leaving behind the delegates still deep in their discussions and slightly puzzled by his abrupt exit. He moved to the far corner of the library, hoping no one would overhear his conversation with the doctor. Yet, even in this secluded corner, he felt prying eyes on him, like needles pressing into his back.

— Garrett, let’s keep calm here, — Levitt said, his tone intentionally casual, as if this were just an ordinary call. — Just explain again, slowly. What exactly is happening?

Garrett gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

— Calmly? Levitt, my body is changing right before my eyes! — his voice cracked, though he struggled to keep it down. — I feel my chest… Damn it, it's growing! Swelling, almost!

The doctor hesitated for a moment, as though he was about to answer, but Garrett cut him off, the urgency in his voice clear. He needed to get back to the meeting before they started making decisions without him—an oversight that could lead to disaster.

— Levitt, hurry the hell up! I took your “health pill” this morning, Levitt, because today was critical! — Garrett was almost growling, holding the phone as though it were an enemy he wanted to crush. His hand was shaking, but not from fear—this was pure, unrestrained fury. — I should be at that meeting, signing contracts, closing deals! And instead, I'm hiding out in a library because my… my chest, oh God! — His last words came out as almost a shriek, a sound that horrified even himself. He could hear his own voice, now high and melodic, like that of an upset woman, and a fresh wave of panic and anger swept over him—it was only getting worse.

His chest was indeed growing, and now there was no way to hide it. His expensive, perfectly fitted sweater—his pride and mark of status—now felt foreign and ridiculous. It hung loosely off his narrowed shoulders, making his silhouette strangely fragile, while his now-enlarged chest stood out, unmistakably visible beneath the thin fabric. Garrett felt as if his body was refusing to obey him, as though it was living its own life. And when he glanced at a young man passing by—a tall, athletic guy with an open yet slightly puzzled expression—he felt something completely foreign: a light, warm tingling in his chest, and his nipples stiffened painfully against the fabric.

The man’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if unsure what he was seeing—a woman with masculine features, or a man with an oddly rounded figure. That curious, slightly bewildered look pierced Garrett, sending his heart racing. He turned away abruptly, feeling a cold sweat trickle down his back. "What the hell… Why am I even reacting like this to…?" raced through his mind as he clenched his jaw, barely containing an inner tremor.

— Garrett, listen to me, — Levitt’s voice grew more insistent on the line, sounding increasingly nervous. — The “health pill” is a great supplement; I take it myself from time to time. Do you think I…

— Think? — Garrett cut him off with a voice unexpectedly high-pitched, almost a squeak, and this undid him completely. Garrett tried to clear his throat, to force out his usual gruff tone, but something had shifted in his voice as if the usual bass and power had deserted him. He sounded more like a young woman trying to take charge than the seasoned millionaire who dominated every negotiation.

Garrett practically choked on his own words as he felt his expensive shirt stretch uncomfortably tight over his chest once again. With a trembling hand, he felt the soft contour expanding beneath the fabric. His skin was unbelievably sensitive, each touch sending a light, unsettling tingle through him.

— Are you kidding me, Levitt? — he managed to say again, feeling his voice not only quieter but tinged with a husky, almost seductive rasp on the lower notes. He instinctively looked around and caught himself staring at the men in the corridor. It was unbearable. — Damn it, this is all because of your pill! What the hell did you give me?!

— Levitt hesitated, coughed, and then tried to regain his composure. His voice wavered, with a nervous laugh slipping through at the end.

— Garrett, I think… something’s gone wrong. Can you describe what you're feeling right now?

— Feeling? — Garrett fumed. — I've got… Levitt, I’ve got a goddamn boobs! It’s growing right now! And… — he swallowed, feeling his voice rise, becoming softer, like it didn’t even belong to him. — I… I think I’m shrinking!

Levitt turned pale, his eyes darting to his desk. His usually tidy row of medication samples stood there, but now he noticed an empty spot among them. The pill in the green vial labeled “ETH-11” was missing. Instantly, he recalled the recent experimental trials. ETH-11 had been developed for accelerated hormonal stimulation in women—it was intended to rapidly enhance chest size and change body shape by intensively targeting estrogen receptors. The pill was designed to simulate the effects of hormone therapy in a compressed timeframe and was strictly prohibited for men, even in trials.

A cold sweat broke out on Levitt's forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him.

— Levitt, damn it, why are you silent?! — Garrett practically screeched, and the melodic, almost feminine pitch only intensified the overwhelming panic he was feeling—an emotion he’d never experienced before with his iron will. His voice grew higher and softer with each word, sounding more like an angry girl than a tough businessman. Garrett suddenly found his gaze, almost involuntarily, lingering on the men passing by. Tall, self-assured, some with a hint of stubble or in sharp suits—their presence now felt oddly tangible, strangely captivating.

He swallowed, feeling his tits tighten painfully under his shirt. This time, he couldn’t ignore the tingling or the weight. His body was reacting in ways he couldn’t control—as if new sensations he’d never experienced before were beginning to consume his mind. Each time he glanced at one of the men, a wave of heat seemed to ripple through him, causing his boobs to swell, his nipples to harden, and his heart to race faster.

— Garrett? — Levitt’s unsteady voice sounded on the other end. But Garrett barely heard him.

"I have to hide… Damn it, I need to be alone!" he thought desperately, realizing he couldn’t bear it if even one more person noticed him like this. The men around him, once merely colleagues or passing strangers, now sparked in him both embarrassment and a strange thrill that was unbearable.

Almost out of his mind, Garrett bolted towards the men’s restroom, glancing nervously around as he went. People were already throwing him odd looks; a few cast curious glances his way, but Garrett was too engrossed in his own internal turmoil to care about their reactions.

With each step, he could feel his tits jiggling under his shirt, his now-rounded form pressing awkwardly against the fabric as if it didn’t belong to him. His hips were broadening with each passing second. He walked quickly, stumbling slightly on his now-narrower legs and pants that sagged on him like a schoolboy trying on adult clothes, feeling his new boobs bouncing with every step, barely contained by his clothes.

His hair, now noticeably longer, tickled his neck as he moved. Garrett burst into the men’s restroom, slamming the door shut behind him and taking a heavy, shuddering breath. He approached the mirror, though at first, he didn’t dare lift his eyes. But the stillness around him forced him to face reality, and he slowly, with a trembling hand, brushed aside a stray lock that had fallen over his face.

He looked up. In the mirror, he saw a face that was both familiar and foreign. It resembled his old face but was softer, thinner, with slightly more rounded features and a certain delicate, almost alluring femininity that left him feeling stunned. High cheekbones, smoother lips, a narrower chin—this was his face, but as though it had gone through some strange, unsettling transformation, making it… feminine.

Garrett froze, clutching his boobs, which now hung heavily and tingled sharply with every brush against the thin fabric. This wasn’t just fear or surprise—it was a profound sense of confusion, as his body no longer obeyed his will, reacting in ways he wasn’t used to. His hands, clasped around his own tits, were trembling, and he could feel this new, unfamiliar softness—at once alien and now inseparably part of him.

 Levitt… — Garrett almost purred, not recognizing the soft, slightly husky yet alluring voice that escaped his lips. It was as if someone else had spoken that name, infusing it with an inflection he would never have allowed before. His own words seemed to reverberate oddly in his chest, triggering a sharp sensation inside him, making him want to either grab his head or hide away from everything.

A shiver ran down his skin—not from fear, but from something strange and disturbingly pleasant, as though this body had discovered new ways to feel, ways he didn’t know how to control. He quickly pulled his hands away from his tits, barely holding back the strange warmth building inside, and tried to take a deep breath to regain some scrap of his former composure. But his body, responding to every movement, only intensified the sense that something irreversible was happening to him.

— Levitt, do you have any idea how awful this is? — he almost moaned, unable to keep himself together, his voice sounding more like a complaint than a demand. — You can’t even imagine what I’m feeling right now.

— Garrett, describe everything, — Levitt’s voice sounded muffled, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to hear.

Garrett took a shuddering breath, battling the heat spreading through his body. It was hard to accept that his own body was turning into something so foreign, yet it refused to stop… drawing his attention. He ran a hand over his chest, trying to calm himself down, but the strange, soft, tingling sensitivity only grew stronger.

— Levitt, are you seriously asking me to describe all this? — Garrett struggled to keep his tone firm, though it came off more like a wounded reproach than a threat. — I… — Suddenly, a sharp wave of panic cut through him as a realization hit, unveiling a new reality he didn’t even want to consider. He froze for a moment, then, forgetting everything else, almost instinctively slipped a hand down into his pants, only to find there a soft, smooth, shockingly sensitive feminine cleft. The moment he touched it, his body reacted instantly, and the response was so intense, so strange, that Garrett let out a faint moan.

His breathing faltered, a wave of warmth surging through him so powerfully and unexpectedly that he barely managed to hold himself together. He yanked his hand back, seized by panic and confusion, and gripped the edge of the sink, fighting against sensations that felt completely alien, yet terrifyingly real. His body was responding in ways he’d never anticipated and, perhaps, never wanted to know. His heart pounded wildly, and his breath came in heavy, ragged gasps.

Garrett stood by the mirror, leaning over the sink, trying to steady his breathing. He struggled to focus, feeling the unfamiliar weight of his chest, the way his swollen nipples pressed against his shirt, sending fresh waves of strange, tingling sensations. His mind desperately tried to latch onto his thoughts, to regain control, as Levitt, realizing his mistake, tried to explain:

— Garrett, listen closely! — the doctor continued. — The effect is temporary. I repeat: temporary. With women, it usually lasts only a few hours… You just need to hide somewhere and wait it out. Garrett? Do you hear me? Just hold on and, whatever you do, don’t…

But Garrett barely heard him. All of Levitt’s advice drowned in the deep, pulsing sensations radiating from his own body. His thoughts were racing, mixed with sharp flashes of these new feelings. “Get a grip, damn it, Wilson!” he repeated to himself, focusing on his breathing, on the cool edge of the sink under his palms, on the need to detach himself, even for a moment, from the pain, the heat, the relentless warmth inside him.

And for a moment, he almost succeeded. The tingling on his skin seemed to subside, he almost managed to ignore the prickling in his boobs, despite the way his shirt still clung to every inch of his sensitive skin. He even managed to take a deep breath, barely holding back the fierce urge to tear off his shirt and free himself from this clingy feeling that grew more unbearable with each movement.

But then the bathroom door creaked open, and someone stepped inside—tall, authoritative, dressed in a suit. Garrett felt his whole body tense up, though he hadn’t yet turned to see who it was. The newcomer paused, casting a quick glance at the woman by the mirror. But as soon as their eyes met, Garrett recognized his enemy—Michael Reeves, one of his longtime competitors. The one who had spent years trying to steal contracts, undercut deals, and relish every one of Garrett’s failures.

— Reeves raised an eyebrow in surprise, his gaze sweeping over the stranger’s figure, lingering on her big tits, barely contained beneath the loose shirt, and on her rounded hips that were starting to fill out the slackened trousers. Garrett felt stripped bare under that look, and a spark of heat flared inside him. He flushed, feeling his body betray him with a strange tremor.

— Excuse me, — Reeves smirked slightly, his gaze mocking and appraising. — This… seems to be the men’s restroom. — He took a few steps closer, looking at her with a curious expression, as though she were some kind of anomaly, maybe even a prank. — You know, it’s not every day you see a woman in… a place like this, — he chuckled, his eyes grazing over her tits, nipples clearly visible through the stretched fabric. — And certainly not in this state.

Garrett tensed, feeling the heat return to his cheeks and chest, clenching his teeth as his heart raced uncontrollably. Breathing became hard, his cursed body reacting to Michael’s voice, his nipples so stiff it felt as if they could slice through the fabric. “Keep calm!” he commanded himself inwardly.

— Did you… come through the wrong door, miss? — Reeves tilted his head, looking down at her with a mocking gaze. Garrett noticed his eyes drifting over her hips, a crooked smile barely suppressed. Somehow, that look made his knees weak, and a tremor spread through his entire body.

— N… no, — Garrett muttered, looking away, barely controlling his new, soft voice. — I just… — Garrett forced out, struggling to make his voice firm. But instead, he heard his own voice—soft, low, with a slight huskiness. It sounded less like an answer and more like a whisper, almost as if he were trying to… seduce. “Damn it, what’s happening to me?” flashed through his mind, but his body seemed to no longer belong to him.

He caught the faint scent of Reeves’ cologne as Reeves stepped closer and, for some reason, touched his shoulder. Garrett, without understanding why, felt a shiver of pleasure course through him at the contact. He tried to turn away, to force himself to pull back, but his body seemed to have lost its will, and all his inner protests drowned in a rising sense of excitement that overwhelmed him, robbing him of control.

— Are you alright, miss? — Michael’s voice was low and a little rough, resonating deep in Garrett’s chest like a wave he couldn’t explain. The very voice he used to despise now stirred something strange, something disturbing inside him.

— Yes, I… I just… — the words caught in his throat, but Garrett had no idea what to say. He felt exposed in front of this man, vulnerable, and for the first time in his life, he understood what it was to be looked at like this, and though it was humiliating, every new feeling within him screamed the opposite.

Reeves grinned, his gaze lingering on Garrett’s lips, and suddenly traced a finger along his chin. Garrett froze, not expecting the touch, and felt every new sensation heighten unbearably. He wanted to pull back, to knock Reeves’ hand away, but in that moment, his body seemed to obey a different instinct: he tilted his head slightly, meeting Reeves’ eyes, which glinted with a warm, entrancing fire.

— I know you, — Reeves murmured softly, his gaze intense. — You… remind me of someone. — There was a hint of mockery in his eyes, but something else too, something that sent a shiver down Garrett’s spine.

— You… you… — Garrett barely managed to say, struggling against the wave of emotions that swept over him, but before he knew it, he found himself in a kiss—hard, insistent, mind-numbing. Reeves pressed him more firmly against the cold wall, and Garrett felt his boobs compress, his nipples pressing against the fabric, the mix of pain and pleasure almost drawing a moan from his throat.

Reeves deepened the kiss, his hand gripping her soft, round backside as he guided her toward one of the stalls. The path and the kiss were long, commanding, and stirred something in Garrett that felt unbearably deep. He felt his breathing grow more erratic, his body aflame, with the sensation only intensifying.

Garrett knew he needed to escape, to break free from this trap, but the feel of Reeves’ hand on his thigh, the way his body responded to every gesture as though it were saying "yes," was beyond his power to resist.

— Wait… please… — Garrett gasped, though the sound came out more like a moan, barely breaking the kiss. — I… — but a sharp gasp interrupted his protest as Reeves suddenly pressed him harder against the wall, his hands gripping Garrett's breasts, massaging them through his shirt.

Garrett couldn't hold back the soft, throaty cry that escaped him, his body seeming to come alive under Reeves' touch. A wave of heat washed over him, and he couldn't stop the tremor that seized his entire being. Reeves abruptly pulled down her baggy pants, leaving her in nothing but her thin shirt, and Garrett could feel his tits rubbing against the fabric. The sensation was electrifying, overwhelming.

Without any warning, Reeves' hand slipped into Garrett's panties, finding her soft, wet, and ready.

— Oh God, — Garrett gasped, unable to resist, and Reeves plunged a finger inside him, stroking the slick heat. — Ahh!

He could feel her juices running down his legs, and Reeves' breath hitched in his throat. He couldn't resist it. Garrett let out a soft moan, his whole body trembling, as Reeves thrust his cock hard against Garrett's pussy, making him scream out in ecstasy.

The sound of their lovemaking filled the restroom, echoing loudly, and Garrett was barely able to stop the cries that threatened to spill from his lips. He bit his lower lip, stifling a groan, but his efforts were in vain, only loud moans coming from him, and the sound of their flesh slapping together echoed throughout the restroom.

Suddenly Garrett hears a sound, like someone walking into the bathroom. For that split second his sober mind returned to him, and he already thought that this would finally be the end of it all, when Reeves palm covered his mouth and the moment of clarity was gone, replaced by a burning wave of lust, as Reeves pushed into him deeper and harder.

"Oh God! Yeah! Shut my mouth, yeah!" Garrett moaned against his hand, unable to stop the flow of dirty thoughts running through his mind. "I'm such a weak little bitch! Yeah! I deserve this! I was bad and now I'm getting punished! It feels so good!"

He could feel Reeves' cock stopped inside him, pressing hard against his cervix, as if waiting for something.

— Be quiet... — Reeves whispered, his hot breath tickling Garrett's ear. — Unless you want to get caught.

Garrett's eyes widened, and a shiver ran down his spine. He didn't know why, but the thought of someone walking in and seeing him like this, being fucked like this, made his pussy throb.

"I don't care, just keep going, I'm almost there, just keep fucking me! Please!" Garrett's eyes rolled back into his head as his body arched against Reeves, the pressure inside him building until he thought he would burst.

"What the hell is... Oh my god! Screw it! Fuck me harder, please, oh my god! Please!" he started moving his hips frantically, trying to force Reeves to continue.

— This is the first time I see such a desperate girl for sex, — Reeves laughed softly and continued to fuck slowly, wtill holding his palm over Garrett's mouth. He didn't even have to do much, the girl's hips did everything for him and Reeves just enjoyed the view, the feeling of his cock buried deep in her tight, hot pussy.

When the unexpected toilet visitor left, leaving them alone, he finally removed his palm, and a long, muffled moan escaped Garrett's lips. He come inside her, filling her up with his cum. Garrett's mind was a blurry mess of lust, and his body was still twitching in orgasm when Reeves pulled out.

Garrett slumped down on the floor, exhausted and drained. His shirt was hanging loose and soaked, his tits were still swollen and sore. A trail of cum trickled down his leg, but he didn't have the strength to even try to clean up.

— Damn... — Reeves said, looking at his watch. — I have to get back to the meeting! God forbid Wilson is back already!

— Yeah, — Garrett smiled weakly. He still didn't understand what had just happened, and his body was still trembling slightly. Only word "Wilson" seemed somehow familiar.

— Exactly! You look like him! — Reeves grinned. — You could even pass for his twin sister. Or maybe you... are... his... sister?

And then, as if a lightning struck, the memory came back to Garrett, the reality, the deal, the meeting. Everything came back to him. He was in the men's room, his body changed, and he just had sex with his rival. With Reeves.

— However, if this is so, you can tell your brother 'hi' from me, — Reeves laughed and left.

— Shit... — Garrett whispered, not even able to move. His body was still aching, but his mind was reeling. "Shit, shit, shit..." he repeated, realizing the extent of his failure.

"Levitt!" he finally remembered, struggling to pull himself together and stand up. But his body still felt weak and drained, his legs shaky and barely holding him up. He leaned against the wall, took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts. For a few seconds, he stayed there, leaning against the cold wall of the stall, his legs unsteady, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, his breath uneven, and his temples pulsing with a grim realization: he had just lost control—not just of his mind but of every instinct in his altered body. The remnants of adrenaline mixed with a biting shame that filled his mind, washing over him in a wave that burned.

Garrett took a cautious step, then another, trying not to think about what had just happened, but it was all too fresh: Reeves’s gaze, his hand on Garrett’s thigh, his domineering, mocking face, every kiss, every flare of passion, every single moan—no, no, it couldn’t have been him. Garrett Wilson could not have given in to his enemy like that.

Vaguely, he recalled his own strange, pleading words, begging for more, confessing how much he wanted it, how good it felt when Reeves silenced him with his hand, as if he knew… Garrett clenched his teeth, nearly stumbling toward the sink—his hair stuck to his face, his thighs trembled, and his breasts—sensitive, as if burned—ached and pulled him down.

Stunned, Garrett wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, feeling his legs quiver as though they’d been drained of all strength. But as soon as his hand brushed his tits, it responded with a new, hot wave. Clenching inwardly in shame and fury, he tried to bury the feeling, to destroy it. "Levitt," he thought bitterly. "That bastard. He’s going to pay for this."

The face in the mirror only reminded him that he still looked… like a woman. His hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed, and in his eyes was a desperate reflection of horror and rage.

— Damn you, Levitt! — he hissed, struggling to remember where he’d left his phone. His gaze finally landed on it, lying on the tiled floor of this public restroom. Garrett grabbed it hastily, his fingers trembling, almost dropping it, and for a second, he imagined what he must look like from the outside. "Damn it, I look like a pathetic, stupid girl!"

— Levitt! — Garrett’s voice cracked, trembling, sounding nothing like his usual authoritative tone, more like a bitter, half-choked cry. He clutched the phone tightly, then heard Levitt pick up on the other end. But Garrett’s resolve suddenly faltered, and he hesitated to speak. His breathing was heavy and erratic, his body barely responsive. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his cheeks were burning, and the whole scene from moments ago wouldn’t let him concentrate.

— Garrett, — the doctor finally spoke first, hearing Garrett’s breathing, his voice cautious, with a tension that immediately put Garrett on edge. He waited a few seconds, then added, — I… I already heard everything. You didn’t end the call. I’m sorry, but I heard… everything.

It felt like an invisible hand had slapped Garrett across the face. He gasped, realizing that now Levitt knew far too much, and even thinking about it disgusted him. He almost ground his teeth, but his body responded strangely to it all—he could feel a warm, unsettling sensation filling his breasts again, and shame wasn’t enough to make it go away.

— You… heard, — Garrett muttered, trying to steady his trembling voice, feeling his cheeks heat up with humiliation. But Levitt didn’t let him continue:

— Garrett, you need to hear me out. This isn’t quite… what I expected, but it was foreseeable, given the active compound in the drug. I wanted to warn you, — the doctor’s voice carried a faint hint of uneasy hesitation. — It’s just… this might be hard for you to accept.

— Say it straight, Levitt! You have no idea what I just went through! What’s even happening to me? — Garrett forced the words out with unbearable effort. Though he tried to sound firm again, his voice—his new, soft, feminine voice—betrayed his emotions.

— Alright, listen, — Levitt began cautiously, as though afraid to push too hard. — The drug works temporarily, as I mentioned, but only if… only if there’s no pregnancy. Every case among women, where subjects became pregnant under the drug’s effects… they remained in that state permanently. The external changes you’ve already noticed become irreversible when the body starts perceiving this as a new… biological norm.

The doctor’s words echoed in Garrett’s mind. A fresh wave of panic and anger surged over him. His hands instinctively touched his stomach, and the gesture—new to him and completely unconscious—frightened him even more. He swallowed hard, staring into the mirror, where he saw his new face, soft, tense, even scared. This wasn’t his face, but a woman’s face, vulnerable, lost, foreign.

— You… You’re telling me that… — Garrett could barely get the words out, realizing the weight of what he’d just heard. — Levitt, I… I can’t…

— You have to understand that pregnancy under the effects of this drug leads to… a range of consequences. We’ve observed… how to put it… — Levitt hesitated, like he was carefully choosing each word. — a series of “deep changes.” In cases where pregnancy was confirmed in female subjects, it wasn’t only their bodies that changed, but also their psycho-emotional responses. A truly fascinating phenomenon. We had several women testing an experimental version of the drug. The effects were unpredictable: one woman, for instance, experienced a sudden decrease in aggression and dominant traits, becoming extremely… emotionally sensitive. Meanwhile, another lost interest in her career, no longer felt competitive or driven, and suddenly valued home, family, security, — Levitt’s voice was tense, as if trying to explain himself.

— Are you kidding me?! — Garrett burst out, his voice sounding more like a wounded reproach than the authoritative demand he was used to.

— Wait, just let me finish. In some cases, after pregnancy, their libido practically disappeared — the subjects admitted that the passion and sexual desire they experienced under the drug gradually faded, — Levitt spoke quickly, as if afraid Garrett might interrupt him. — But… — he paused, as though weighing whether he should continue, — that wasn’t the case for all of them. Some retained an increased sensitivity to certain stimuli, almost… fixating on them. One of the subjects, for example, constantly needed reassurance or… emotional involvement. And there was even a case where one woman couldn’t stop herself from… seeking comfort and support from others.

— What? What kind of garbage are you spewing, Levitt? — Garrett snarled, disgusted by these new tones in his own voice, by every word Levitt said, by everything happening to him, and by that humiliating scene in the bathroom just moments ago. He stifled a frustrated yell, his fingers going white as he gripped the phone.

Levitt, hearing his strained breathing, quickly spoke again, as if searching for words of comfort:

— Garrett, listen to me carefully. I’m on my way there right now. Try to hide, stay in the stall, don’t come out until I arrive. Don’t make any sudden moves, don’t talk to anyone — it’ll only make things worse. Please, Garrett. Stay in the stall and wait for me, — Levitt’s tone was serious, as if he wanted to impress the importance of each word on Garrett, but all Garrett felt was growing despair.

— Wait? Wait in a bathroom stall like some kind of… — Garrett trailed off, unable to find the right words. All his fear, confusion, and barely restrained humiliation surged within him, like a wave threatening to drown him. The thought of him — Garrett Wilson, a man used to being in control — sitting trapped in a cramped stall, waiting for help like a helpless child, felt like a mockery. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to even out his breathing and suppress the growl building in his chest.

— Garrett, I know this is unbearable, — Levitt said gently, slowing his pace as if picking each word carefully. — But understand, all of this, including the emotions, is just a side effect. Under the influence of the drug, your reactions might seem… exaggerated. Right now, your emotions are heightened, and — yes, they might even feel more… feminine, considering what’s happened, which is perfectly normal given the circumstances.

Garrett swallowed hard, pressing his back against the cold wall of the stall. Feminine emotions? That was the last straw, confirmation that he could no longer rely on the person he used to be. But then he felt an odd wave, a mix of despair and an unexpected sense of safety. The feeling that someone understood him, supported him, cared for him felt strangely, absurdly, terrifyingly… comforting. It was as though, for once, he wasn’t carrying the weight of this madness alone.

At that moment, he heard the bathroom door open. Heavy footsteps echoed through the silence, and he tensed instinctively, holding his breath. Terrified at the thought that someone might catch him here in this ridiculous, feminine state, and remembering Levitt’s words, he darted into the nearest stall, closing the door with a quiet click. His fingers gripped the lock tightly on their own, and he felt a new, terrifyingly intense wave of shame take over his body. A voice inside—his rational, harsh Garrett voice—whispered, "Hiding like some cowardly little girl. Really? What’s wrong with you? You’re Wilson!"

But instead of his old confidence, emotions surged within him that he couldn’t control. The faint sound of footsteps echoed in his mind, and with each one, he shrank even more. He felt as if, if anyone figured out it was him—Garrett Wilson—behind that door, looking this humiliated, everything would be lost. A feeling of helplessness grew in his chest.

Almost inaudibly, Garrett whispered into the phone, his voice betraying him with a faint tremble:

— Levitt… please, hurry… — the words fell from his lips like a plea he’d never allowed himself before. — You’re… you’re coming, right? You… won’t leave me?

He stopped short, shocked at his own words, which sounded too dependent, too helpless. He, Garrett Wilson, had never relied on anyone, much less begged for protection. And even more, he had never whispered words with a tight, high-pitched voice, like a frightened girl scared of being left alone in this endless, torturous wait. The realization made his cheeks burn even hotter, and a strange wave gripped his chest—a mixture of shame and… relief that he had someone to turn to.

— I’m on my way, Garrett. I’ll be there very soon; you’re not alone, — Levitt’s voice was calm but assured, carrying exactly what Garrett desperately needed right now: a calm reassurance, confidence. — As soon as I get there, we’ll sort out what needs to be done. For now, just… just try to breathe steadily. Try not to think about how everything around you has changed.

Levitt’s words wrapped around Garrett like a warm blanket, and his chest felt a little lighter. He exhaled, feeling his body relax. It was strange, but along with it came a sense of relief: someone strong, someone dependable would soon be there, and everything would get easier. Garrett had never allowed himself such dependence, but now, curled up in the stall, he suddenly felt safe, as if he was protected.

Then, realization hit him abruptly. The strange feeling that he, Garrett Wilson, was sitting here like some scared girl, waiting for someone to come and fix everything. His face flushed with heat, and shame washed over him, scorching away any remnants of that fleeting relief. He clenched his teeth, feeling the humiliation twist painfully inside, but he couldn’t help it.

"Levitt… damn you," Garrett thought bitterly, feeling his face flush with shame again. He, always confident, always solving problems with a quick command, was now sitting in a bathroom stall, locked away and trembling, in a woman’s body, trembling like a helpless girl, waiting for someone to come and protect him, as if he, Garrett Wilson, couldn’t handle it himself. Yet, despite all of this, the strange sense of relief from Levitt’s promise still lingered.

"Relying on someone’s help… Me? What has he done to me?" he thought angrily, barely resisting the urge to punch the stall wall in helpless rage, but he froze at the sound of more footsteps. Garrett quietly pulled himself up onto the toilet, hugging his knees to his chest, but immediately felt the weight of his new, heavy chest pressing in, making it harder to breathe and intensifying his turmoil. He felt his cheeks grow hot again—from shame and from his own helplessness. He stifled a sigh and tried to focus on breathing steadily, trying not to give himself away. The wait dragged on unbearably, and Garrett found himself counting seconds, praying to finally hear the familiar voice or the footsteps of his friend. His gaze locked on the white ceiling, and a single thought ran through his mind:

"Levitt, hurry… Damn it, hurry."

...

Three months later

...

Garrett, now known as Grace Wilson, sat at the head of the table, gripping a trembling glass of water in unsteady fingers. Her normally cold, confident eyes avoided meeting those of the shareholders, and her fingers nervously traced the edge of a document discussing her possible dismissal. Over the last three months, her body had changed even further: what would have been her third decade as a fierce business shark had abruptly halted, and now Grace struggled to walk even a few steps through the office without feeling exhausted or… fighting tears, sensing the mocking stares of her former subordinates, the very ones she used to reprimand with ease. Not long ago, she would have made them regret every glance, every hint of criticism, but now Grace could only feel the constant waves of hurt and intense emotions welling up inside her, tears she hid away in her spacious top-floor office, with its glass windows overlooking the city.

— So, colleagues, we need to discuss the question of continued leadership, — one of the shareholders, Jackson Grey, said curtly, frowning as he cast a pointed look her way. His voice held no sympathy.

Once, she would’ve responded without hesitation, but now… Grace gripped the glass tighter, barely managing to hold back the wave of trembling. Her old resolute gaze was gone; now her eyes were frightened, vulnerable. She blinked, feeling hot tears rise. Shame, self-disgust, and helplessness knotted into a painful lump she couldn’t swallow.

— Grace, — another shareholder spoke, emphasizing her new name with a hint of mockery, — do you yourself think you’re… capable of performing at your previous level?

The question seemed to tear her apart. She remembered how she used to dominate in the boardroom, but now her own sensitivity and fluctuating emotions betrayed her. Grace felt a tightening in her chest, a lump in her throat. She fought to hold herself together, knowing that tears wouldn’t help, but the feelings were overwhelming.

— I… understand your concerns, — she paused to steady her breath, placing the glass down, though it almost slipped from her trembling hands with a slight clink. — However, despite… my changes — Despite… my changes, — she carefully laid a hand on her rounded belly, fully aware of the way everyone’s gaze zeroed in on it.

Grace took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that still pricked at her eyes, burning from the inside. Once, she would have silenced everyone with a single icy glare, but now things were different.

— However, despite… my changes, — her eyes involuntarily drifted to her hand still resting on her belly, and noticing this, she quickly moved it away, feeling all attention shift back to her body — I am still capable of running this company.

— Capable? — Jackson Grey leaned forward, a slight smirk playing on his lips. — Forgive me, Grace, but your… current situation seems… difficult, to put it mildly.

Grace swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady, but her words came out barely above a whisper.

— It’s… temporary, — she faltered, feeling her voice betray her, breaking into a soft, almost pleading tone that echoed around the room, making her lower her gaze. Her soft voice, once confident and sharp, now sounded as though it were begging for leniency. Grace felt every attempt to defend herself crumble under the weight of the watchful, critical gazes directed at her.

Jackson’s slight smirk deepened, and that faint smile threw her into even greater turmoil.

— Temporary, you say? — Jackson tilted his head, as if mulling over her words. He watched her as her hand instinctively moved back to her belly, as if protecting it from their hostile, judgmental stares. She looked down, and her thoughts drifted to quiet fantasies of a cozy home where she could escape these judging eyes, away from the demands that once gave her life meaning but now felt foreign and cruel. In her mind, she saw a room bathed in soft light; an armchair by the window where she could sit wrapped in a warm blanket; quiet, peaceful evenings with no intense meetings or strategic discussions, only her, her child, and a sense of security.

Grace caught herself in those thoughts and nearly felt afraid. When had she started dreaming about things like this? Her whole life had been filled with career ambitions; she was surrounded by rivals and partners, and every morning brought a new challenge. She looked up at Jackson, realizing he was watching her closely, as if he already understood that her old world was beginning to crumble.

— Grace, — Jackson’s voice was almost soft now, but beneath that softness lay a cold calculation, — I think you need to consider what you truly want. You see, the company… the company needs a leader, someone fully dedicated, without… distractions.

His words, laced with subtle pressure, reminded her again of who she used to be. Grace instinctively glanced around at everyone present, hoping to find even a hint of understanding in their eyes, but she saw only coldness and patient expectation.

— Oh, cut the crap already! — snapped one of the shareholders, Mark Hanley, notorious for his bluntness. He slammed his fist on the table, making Grace flinch and shrink further into the massive leather chair, feeling her growing sense of vulnerability.

— We need a leader, not some sentimental daydreamer! — Mark continued, his voice dripping with contempt. — We can’t afford to lose our edge in the market while our CEO is off… planning a new decor theme!

Laughter erupted around the room, and Grace felt her face flush with heat. She forced herself to look up at Mark, feeling tears threaten to rise in her throat, but she couldn’t afford to break down here, not in front of these people who used to respect her but now seemed to see only her weakness.

— Excuse me, — she tried to say, but her voice was barely more than a muffled whisper, drowned out by the shareholders’ mocking comments and laughter. She remembered that, for some reason, she now cared about how the office looked and how people felt when they walked into her office. Her old cold pragmatism had been replaced by something new—a desire to create a space that was not just functional but comfortable, almost cozy, and as unfamiliar as it was, this concern had become important to her.

Mark noticed her hesitation and smirked, as if sensing his words had hit their mark.

— Garrett was a damn good leader, and let’s be honest, — Mark continued with a sneer, — shit happens, but you’re still hanging in there. The only question is, though, we’re clearly not seeing Garrett anymore, are we? We’re seeing… who? Grace? A new version? Softer, more… domestic?

— Mark, — Grace said quietly but firmly, gripping the glass of water so tightly her knuckles turned white. — I’m still the same person. Garrett… I — I led this company through enough crises that I could… — she faltered as she caught Jackson’s skeptical look and Mark’s mocking smirk, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, and she quickly finished, — I could do it again if I needed to.

Jackson tilted his head with a slight expression of curiosity.

— So how do you plan to do that, Grace? — he said, emphasizing her new name, as if to remind her that Garrett was gone. — How are you going to manage, if…

Grace felt a desperate lump rise in her throat and swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. These people, her own colleagues, looked at her with undisguised disdain, as though she no longer mattered. A few months ago, she would have made them regret those looks, but now… she didn’t have the same strength, the unyielding resolve she’d once relied on. She tried to pull herself together, but something inside her felt broken.

— I… I understand your concerns, — Grace said, trying to inject some firmness into her voice, but the soft, slightly trembling tone betrayed her emotions. — But I’m willing to work as hard as it takes. All of this… it’s temporary, — she added, barely holding back tears.

— Temporary? — Mark repeated with a smirk. — Three months now, right? Another six to go, and then what? The doctors said the effects were irreversible.

— That… that’s not certain, — Grace replied in a shaky voice, feeling how they were deliberately stretching out the conversation to strip her of the last bit of confidence. Mark’s gaze was filled with thinly veiled contempt.

— Grace, come on now, — Mark tilted his head, as if trying to sound sympathetic, though there wasn’t a hint of empathy in his expression. — You must realize we can all see just… how hard this is for you.

Grace felt a fog of hurt and anger blur her vision, but holding back was impossible. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, tears began streaming down her cheeks.

— I… I can run this company, really… I just… I’ve earned this position, I’ve done so much for all of us, and you have no right… you have no right to just… — she struggled to find the words, but her voice kept breaking into sobs, and the tears flowed freely, washing away any last trace of her former resolve.

Mark exchanged a knowing look with the other shareholders, and Grace realized they had been waiting for this moment. Seeing it, she felt a fresh wave of shame wash over her. Unable to endure their gazes any longer, she stood up, turned, and almost ran from the room, stumbling in her high heels and covering her face with one hand. The tears streamed down as the painful knot in her chest grew tighter. She felt utterly drained.

Reaching her office, Grace slammed the door shut and, leaning against it, finally allowed herself to sob uncontrollably. Her entire career, the one she’d fought so hard to build, everything she’d built from the ground up, now seemed shattered and lost.

She sank to the floor, pressing her hands to her face to muffle her cries. The tears wouldn’t stop, and when she could finally catch her breath, she whispered to no one in particular:

— What am I supposed to do now?..

Grace had never imagined she’d find herself in a situation like this. Just a few months ago, she didn’t even have time to consider feelings like these — work, deals, and reports were her only reality. She was certain that this rhythm would continue forever, that she could manage her world on her own terms. But now, her own body, her emotions, and weaknesses she couldn’t control had betrayed her. And in the eyes of the shareholders and her colleagues, she was no longer herself; she was someone weak, someone they saw as an outsider — she could see it, and it was what hurt her most of all.

"Why did this have to happen to me?!" she thought, pulling her knees close and feeling that choking knot rise in her throat once more. She looked out the window at the endless streets of the city she once considered her domain and found herself at a complete loss for what to do next. More and more, thoughts of a quiet life, of comfort and peace, began to slip into her mind — a life where she wouldn’t have to fight for every moment, wouldn’t have to prove her strength.

Grace ran a hand over her cheeks, wiping away the last of her tears. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then froze, staring at her reflection in the window. Staring back was a fragile figure in an elegant dress, her rounded belly now unconsciously shielded by her hand. Vulnerable features, gentle eyes filled with pain, resentment, and a hint of confusion looked back at her. This child was part of her, her new reality, no matter how hard it was for her to accept. But what stunned her most was that this new life had come from someone she once despised.

Her thoughts drifted back to him… to Michael Reeves, the man she’d always considered her enemy, and to those moments in that stall when her body and mind had betrayed her, opening up to him under the influence of that pill. Now, that enemy had not just left a mark on her life—he’d become part of her future, the father of a child she had somehow felt unable to let go of from the beginning. Reeves’s image surfaced in her mind with a startling clarity: his confident smirk, the hands that had held her so possessively yet gently, his voice now echoing in her mind, stirring conflicted feelings. Once, she’d seen him only as an adversary, someone as relentless and determined as she was. And now, knowing she carried his child, she felt something stir painfully deep within her.

Only she and Reeves knew the truth, and from the start, she hadn’t even wanted to consider talking to him about it. Yet now… Grace looked away from the glass, trying to regain focus, but her thoughts and memories wouldn’t let her go. Michael was someone who could now become a solid support for her—and for their child.

"What’s happened to me?" she thought, unable to hold back the pain and regret. The feelings she harbored for Reeves were complicated, a turbulent mix of fear, resentment, and strange attraction that she was now powerless against. She realized that her old life, her career, her goals, everything she’d worked so many years to achieve, had collapsed in an instant, and now she was forced to accept a reality she couldn’t escape.

Her gaze returned to the cityscape outside. With her hand resting on her belly, she stared thoughtfully into the distance. Thoughts of maintaining control and climbing to the top of her career felt foreign now. She kept seeing images of peace, quiet, and comfort, with no room for scheming or competition. A strange desire welled up within her—to stop fighting, to stop proving herself, and to simply live and feel safe.

“Do I… really want this?” she whispered to herself, feeling her body calm down unexpectedly at just the thought.

But she couldn’t simply walk away. Everything she’d built had to mean something. Glancing at the door beyond which her colleagues and shareholders waited, she made a decision. She would pull together everything she had left, to at least pass the reins to someone who could continue what she had started. Grace took a deep breath, feeling a strange but definite relief at this thought.