“That’s… that’s about right.” Zain sighed in resignation as chest tenderness gave way to a supple pair of tits. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they came in a cup size larger than yesterday. Given his luck lately, he wouldn’t be surprised that was right...
 
Zain was not having the best month. Every morning, without fail, he’d find himself transformed into a short yet VERY top-heavy female version of himself. Granted, the lady that greeted him in the mirror was attractive, it was just hard to be excited about that when it was his own reflection. Zain hadn’t been a woman for the entire month, however. The moon appearing in the sky determined when he returned to normal, flip-flopping genders more often than one would change their socks. Zain didn’t even have the luxury of exploring his feminized body after the shock wore off: for whatever reason, in his transformed state, he became completely chaste. He still FELT every horny, quivering thought and sensation, but was compelled not to act on it, hands going nowhere near his new sex; the only time the slit between his thighs saw use was during the awkward but unavoidable trips to the bathroom. Point being, whatever was causing this was keeping Zain pent up with only a small window for release.

If he stuck to a typical sleep schedule, most of Zain’s time as male would be when he’s sleeping, so in an effort to spend time with his “little buddy” as much as possible, he’d become a bit of a night owl. With what hat little time he had each night, he remained completely sober, but that didn’t stop him from catching the eye of a baddie waiting outside a nightclub to be let in. She never did enter the building: one thing led to another, temptations got the better of him and they ended up spending the night together. The sex was great, long overdue, but Zain dozed off from exhaustion, forgetting to leave before his curse manifested in full.

Now Zain was trapped in the bathroom, weighing his options. He didn’t think to pack a bra, and his abrupt breast expansion with a shirt on caused most of his top buttons to fly off in protest. As a guy, Zain never had to experience the infamous Walk of Shame, and now he’d practically have to streak half-naked across town if he wanted to make it home. That seemed to be the best course of action, much to his chagrin; Zain needed to sneak out as quietly as he could, because if the woman sleeping in the room behind him was expecting anyone to wake her up, it would be the man she brought home, not some strange woman… with better tits than her’s.