John groaned as he pushed his head upwards from the table that'd somehow come to rest beneath his chin, inadvertently brushing aside the myriad of beauty products lay there until they'd scattered across the floor beside him.
He was deservedly confused, as anyone would be had they been in the process of prepping to clean the lad's toilets only a moment prior (a daunting task for any janitor, I tell you), but what really perplexed his frazzled brain where the feverish whispers exchanged somewhere close to him, laced with an undertone of desperation that chilled him to the bone.
"...No, there's no way something like this is is possible, it's just..."
The voice came from Reece, Liz's stepson (though John was aware this familial connection would sever once the latter's divorce had been completed). Though the two hadn't spoken to each other at lengths, John had still constructed the idea that the man was good at heart, soft in countenance and a kid he'd gladly grab a beer with just for a cheap laugh or two.
However, the alarming pitch of his words and the frantic pacing he was doing that John could just about make out through his bleary eyes (accompanied by a strange clacking noise that followed as he stepped back and forth) made the store's resident janitor well aware there was something gravely amiss.
"John?" a soft voice said, a sound both familiar and soothingly motherly. "Oh, thank God, we thought you'd croaked for a minute there."
John squinted, his eyes having blinked out the last bit of drowsiness, and looked towards Nicola's familiar face, smiling with little crow's feet at the edges of her eyes and with the decorative pearls looping beneath her earlobes sparkling with an innocent sort of candour.
It was nice that someone had taken on a more calming demeanour, though- even in his only recently awoken state- John could tell something wasn't exactly right with Nicola either.
For one she looked a lot taller than usual (whether that was due to John being in a seating position beneath her or due to the non-regulation sandal pumps now on her feet he wasn't sure), and had seemingly changed out of her Wilko garb, her red blouse and black trousers swapped for an elaborate getup consisting of a loose pink top, giving John ample view of the inexplicably bolstered bust lay within, and a pair of skimpy shorts the likes of which the old gal would tut at had one of the two's younger female coworkers were to wear them.
"I, er...no, I think I'm alright. I just...took an inadvertent nap, somehow."
John chuckled lightly, stopping only once a sharp pain began to suddenly shoot through his head, bouncing around his skull and leaving him with a fleeting but intense ringing.
"Though for the life of me I can't remember leaving the bathrooms to get onto the main shop floo..."
John's voice cut abruptly, his eyes bulging wide as his gaze lingered to the hand he'd used to emphasise his words came into full view. Gone were the wrinkled, worn sausages that'd bared with him through years of scrubbing, plunging and various other forms of busywork. Now, in an alarmingly unforeseen twist, were five slender digits, recently manicured with pristine red-polished nails, jutting out from an equally slim arm that had a light (but noticeable) layer of false tan on the skin.
The words refused to come from John's startled mouth as his eyes lingered from first the stunning silver engagement band slipped onto the third finger of his dainty right hand, to the suffocatingly tight black trouser suit (complete with a generous bulge where a pair of boisterous D-cup breasts, adorned with the name 'Sasha' in bold, standard company lettering on their exterior) clinging tightly to his now svelte feminine figure, and finally down to his lithe set of legs, their calves- though undoubtedly smaller than his own- were much tighter and more muscular, and similarly tanned to boot, with a pair of stylish (imitation) Dior pumps strapped onto them that would've made John's wife, Amanda, drool at the very sight.
"F*ck me!"
"There we go..."
John's temporary paralysis was broken when he heard Reece mutter from the background, the fella obviously reacting to John's spectacular reaction to...well, John wasn't quite sure what to call it. Perhaps if he hadn't looked across to where the boy's voice had come from, which meant he wouldn't have seen Reece- with his choppy blonde hair and thin stubble planted across the horizon of his chin- have his head plastered onto a feminine body also, formerly belonging to the beautician who owned the salon on the lower floor if the small lettering reading 'Carly' was to be believed.
Reece's situation was admittedly a lot less egregious than John's own (though his opinion might've been a tad biased), his body at least having blonde hair to match the set sprouting atop his scalp. His wardrobe also seemed to compliment his laid back demeanour too, with Carly having chosen to come in to work today wearing a bland spaghetti top, a rugged but decidedly fashionable leather jacket, and a pair of tight ripped jeans along with professional black stilettos.
To say such a sight didn't almost make John's (no longer so) feeble (physically speaking) heart flutter into an impromptu cardiac arrest would be a lie, though it must be noted that some self-conscious part of him, deep within the recesses of his mind, find some frail comfort knowing he wasn't the only fella suffering from such a weird, supernatural predicament.
John cast his eyes back to Nicola, taking note of the name 'Zoe' scribbled onto the name tag on her top with a pessimistic sort of exhaustion.
"F*cking hell, both of you too?!"
"Unfortunately so, yes," Reece replied bluntly, crossing his arms over his new tits and unconsciously jutting his hips to the side. "Though I've no clue as to how, or why this happened, or what's supposed to happen know."
Nicola jabbed a varnished nail behind her back, bringing John's attention to the dark veil that'd somewhow come around the edge of the store's reach, darkening the interior around them somewhat and causing the store's lights to switch on automatically in response.
"Probably something to do with that black screen that's lifted outside the windows, luv."
John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, praying internally that this was just merely a bad nightmare that he still hadn't woken up from.
"Bloody hell..."
Reece frowned, turning to Nicola. "Is there some sort of protocol you guys follow for situations like these, or...?"
"Honey, no protocol in the world could prepare anyone for..." she gestured first at her younger body and then to the emasculated men standing beside her. "...This."
"We could try and find Emma, see what she thinks of this," John chirped, choosing to accept this new reality temporarily until either something jolted him awake or he received a concrete answer to why there was a tangible nothingness down where his schlong should've been.
Nicola shrugged. "Good enough for me."
Reece nodded in agreement. A moment later and the two of them, Nicola and Reece that is, had begun to walk forward deeper into the store, sharing small talk between themselves that never really went anywhere due to them both knowing each was avoiding addressing the biggest elephants in the room.
John, meanwhile, strayed back a moment. He huffed and rearranged his newly gained bust, the arrangement feeling off for some reason that utterly escaped him. He flicked off the clasp behind him with ease (though he'd never done such a thing before) and loosened the bra's strap so as to give some space for his puppies to breathe.
Sighing in muted relief, a sudden urge occurred to him and he meekly obliged, bringing together a pair of his longer nails and gingerly tweaking one of his nipples. His face contorted, first in pain but soon a sense of euphoric pleasure washed over him that overrided his natural sensibilities. His knees wobbled, understandably so, and John fought his growing urge to step into an adjacent aisle and finish off what he'd just begun.
What the f*ck, he muttered internally as he reclasped his bra, smoothed out Sasha's trouser suit, and proceeded to follow Reece and Nicola once more.
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