He woke up choking on hair.
If that wasn't his first sign that something was wrong then he had to question his own sanity.
Once the hair is strictly away from his mouth and nose, Derek slowly sits up. Oh something is definitely up. He feels the weight on his chest that shifts as he moves. And there's conspicuously no morning wood greeting him. It's a bad morning if he doesn't wake up with an erection on a night he hasn't had sex.
Bleary-eyed and half awake, the man pulls himself out of his bed and stumbles to his en-suite bathroom. He has to pee so badly. The changes haven't quite sunk in yet, though he's aware things aren't the same this morning. He's too tired to make sense of anything.
But he does make sense of the missing instrument he can't grab onto. He does make sense of the warm urine that is dripping down the inside of his thigh and pattering to the floor instead of landing a bull's eye into his toilet bowl.
"What the fuck!" Derek sits on impulse, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. But thankfully he's not pissing on himself any longer. Now he's awake and he stares down at himself. His female self, apparently. There are exposed breasts, real life boobs protruding from his pecs. And his groin, his precious jewels. Gone. Instead he finds himself looking at an area he usually enjoys admiring from a different angle.
Of course he can't help but want to touch everything. It's the only way he can confirm that it's really there attached to his body. That is, once he solves the issue of how he's supposed to wipe, because girls have to wipe after they pee right?
