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Freddie wakes up the morning after crappy dreams feeling very cranky. Whether he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, is coming down with something, or something else is out of whack, it doesn't matter. Freddie isn't exactly normally peaches and cream, but today every little thing seems to set him off.

As the day progresses, he goes through feelings of progressive uncomfortableness - hot flashes, chills, feeling quite hungry, feeling bloated.... and ultimately, feeling very emotional. The irritation earlier becomes jsut a sensitivity to any passing sentiment. Anger, sentimentality, frustration, everything seems amplified.

By midday, your chest feels particularly sensitive - you note it rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. Your hands and feet feel achy, and your finger and toe nails begin to darken and thicken. It's starting. You too were injected, and your change has begun.

Your face suddenly begins to ache, as you can feel your nose broadening and your ears stretching. Your nose feels like pinpricks as the pores widen and darken, and begin to moisten.

Your pelvis aches as your hips go through a sudden bone-grinding expansion, stretching your pants to near-breaking.

The changes then seem to diminish, and for a moment, it seems that you got off really lucky.

But then... your chest, already sensitive, begins to feel... very strange. and then before your eyes, your toned pecs begin to amass fat, sagging.... but it doesn't stop there. They grow beyond just manboobs to be plain boobs, larger and larger as the overdose of female hormones and production in your system kicks in. Not only was Freddie administered a transgender serum, but the labs experimented and kicked up the production levels to truly make this a punishment serum.

There is also a distinct crawling feeling in his shorts as Freddie's manly bits begin to shrivel. They're not gone by any means, but no longer worth bragging to anyone about.

Finally, a barely noticible strange sensation at the base of your abdomen occurs as four nubbins surface - only raised a few milimeters from the surrounding skin and slightly darker in color. They're sensitive to the touch, but hadly noticible in compared to the rest of the changes.

Punchin' and a Weepin'

Link: http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=6490053

Freddie and Newt meet again. Insults and blows are exchanged before Freddie is knocked unconscious.

Sensitive & Sweaty

Link: http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=1140526&page=311

Civil conversation? What?

What a Work Out

Link: http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=2844397&page=15

Freddie and Gaius reconcile their differences by sharing a milkshake... I mean by trading blows.

Food for Thought

http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=2844397&page=20

Freddie runs into Aislinn in the workout room and is reminded of some unpleasant things...

In the early days Freddie had kept to the cycle hammered into him as a guard. He woke at dawn, just like he used to for his shifts. In the time since his ‘reassignment’ he’d broken himself of the habit, perhaps even a little too well. He woke up first at nine in the morning, which was a decent enough hour, but as bloated as he felt he was entitled to roll over and go back to sleep.

He woke with a start at noon after a bad dream, but the only thing that stayed with Freddie after was the sensation of being pressed together with two many other bodies, all moving forward towards… something. Sweat drenched his last good shirt, reminding him yet again that it was bad thing where a white muscle shirt was concerned. He grumbled and rolled over again, and though the sweat left him feeling cold and clammy, he somehow managed to drift back to sleep.

He only felt worse when he woke up again at two, and apparently he’d been tossing and turning enough in his sleep to leave the blankets tangled around his legs. He wanted to just sleep the rest of the day, but there was no getting comfortable after that. Besides, he was hungry. Freddie untangled himself from the bed sheets and stood up. He may have felt like s**t, but a shower wasn’t going to help things at all. He’d tried doing it with his eyes closed, and when that didn’t help he’d tried doing it as fast as possible. It didn’t matter what he did, because every time he stepped out of the shower he was reminded of how much he’d gained, and lost, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the deal with the nubs was.

Food had become his new method of making himself feel better, and as bad as he’d been about working out that was starting to show. Flab had set in where before there had been washboard abs, padding out what had already become a much less masculine figure. The only good thing he’d ever had going were his muscles, and he was just letting everything go to seed. Just thinking about him made him angry. He hadn’t given up, not really, he was just… just… Anyway, it wasn’t his fault everything was falling apart, it was because every time he tried to have a moment alone someone came along to ruin everything. In the cafeteria, in the workout room, it didn’t matter where he went, everyone seemed to be against him. This was, of course, all completely undeserved. Still. <******** them,” he muttered, lumbering towards the door. He was going to go to the cafeteria, and to hell with anyone else. He’d feel better after he ate, and then maybe he’d work up the courage to strip down and shower again. And if one of them was there, and started something… Well, it’d been a long while since he had a good fight, maybe he’d come out on top again. Food, fighting… something had to take the edge off.

The package stopped him. He looked down at it, then glanced around wildly in futile hopes that whoever dropped it off might still be around. Scowling, Freddie lifted it up and went back in side, kicking the door closed behind him. Once he sat it down on the counter inside he stepped back and stared at it suspiciously. It was ticking or dripping, which was a plus. He leaned closer and sniffed it, but there were no tell tale odors. Maybe it was safe. He tore it open and slowed when he lifted out the first shirt. He mouthed ‘got milk’ to himself, then wadded it up and threw it aside. The second shirt only made him more angry. He sat there fuming until a strange sensation in his chest made him look down.

The t-shirt was under enough pressure as it was, so it was hard to deny his breasts were growing when it was slowly pulled even tighter. He could hear the stitches being pulled. He pressed his hands to his chest as if that could make them go back down, but then the changes started in earnest. His fingers twitched as the nails began to grow, the pain making it feel as though they were being pulled by vices. He whimpered and clawed at his shirt, trying to stop it, but he only succeeded in shredding it and scratching his chest with the two fingers that had becoming particularly hoof-like. Panic took hold of him, told him he couldn’t just sit there while it happened, but just as he stood his feet began to change, and putting his weight on them in the middle of the transition felt as though he’d just stepped on broken glass. He wailed and pitched forward, his hands going out just in time to keep him from experiencing a painful repeat of the trip in the cafeteria. The rug burns he gained on the palms of his hands were barely felt in the midst of everything else happening.

He lay on the floor, his last good shirt in ruins, and closed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to make the pain stop. He should have known what was coming from the ache that started at the base of his spine, but there was nothing that could prepare him for the pain of it dislodging and growing. He screamed, the sound much too high and shrill, but he was beyond caring if anyone heard. He pressed his face into the carpet as he began to sob, unaware that the crawling sensation he felt around the back of his neck and thighs was from fur rapidly growing. He lifted his head long enough to come up for air, sniffle, and then press one hand to his face as the itching started. He remembered that feeling, the first time it hadn’t been so bad, but as this time it felt like his nose was trying to escape as it grew he had to scream again. His head ached fiercely in the aftermath of its widening, but as tight as he screwed his eyes the tears kept flowing. He remained on the floor, sobbing and writhing. He clawed at the floor, trying to burrow to some place beneath the pain.

Of course it would only get worse from there. He’d almost put the mysterious little nubs out of his mind until they started to tingle. When they started to swell his eyes snapped open. He rolled over on to his back, a mistake as he landed on his still tender rear, and recovered from the jolt of pain just as the nubs began to push his boxers outwards. He was teetering on the brink of hysterics, but didn’t tumble over the edge until he felt his already reduced assets migrating inside. If the udder couldn’t do it, that could. He started screaming then, long and high, until finally his voice broke and, with the transition complete, she was left too exhausted to keep going.

Freddie rolled on to her side on the floor, the udder flopping like she much dead weight over the waist band of her boxers. She began to cry again, her voice hoarse, sparing her from seeing just how much it might have changed. She cried herself to sleep, there on the floor, in nothing but boxers and a shredded t-shirt… and when she woke up again, some time later, she find she was sore for an entirely new reason.

“Oh god,” she said, slowing reaching up to explore what the problem was. And then the udder, to confirm it was both that were doing it. “Oh god no. No, no, no, no…”

She screamed again, one last time, and when she finally calmed down there was still the little issue of how she was going to milk herself. She looked over at where she had thrown the t-shirts, and then looked up a the intercom that seemed to be miles away from the floor. She hauled herself up to her feet and had to grab to counter to keep from falling over. Her legs wobbled unsteadily, forcing her to hold on for a little longer until she realized she was going to have to balance on the pseudo hooves. The memory of what she’d done to Gaius and his walking stick rose to mind, hitting her like a slap to the face.

“Don’t mean nothin’,” she hissed. “I can do this.”

She took a few wobbly steps towards the intercom, and just as she thought she already had the hang of it, she lost her balance and was sent stumbling towards the wall. She fell against it with a thud, but technically she had still made it all the way. She leaned heavily against the wall, and before she pressed the 0 button she made a feeble attempt at composing herself. She wiped her eyes with the side of her hand and made an awkward attempt of slicking her hair down, the nails only helping to muss it a little more. That was as good as it was going to get, so she hit the 0 button with her pinky. As she waited, she grit her teeth, making an equally futile attempt to rein her emotions in before someone answered.

She knew sooner or later she was going to have to ask for something, but she never dreamed it would be anything like a skirt… or a pump of some kind. But that was before she was a girl, and before she had utters. Worst of all, she was going to have to try and be civil. Right, try.

When Freddie wakes up Christmas morning, he receives a present... kind of. The pressure on his mammary glands is miraculously relieved! The udder teats are a little bit sore, but other than that he feels.... good... by comparison of course.