You were not the type to spend time in night clubs or approach women just to get laid, but last night the mood really struck you.
Initially no one seemed to warm up to your advances, but when the place was just a few minutes away from closing, you suddenly found yourself in the company of a very drunk and very chubby redhead.
She invited you over to her place, and the two of you enjoyed the kind of sex one would expect from two horny, intoxicated and desperate individuals - clumsy, but passionate.
However, when you finally reached your limit and began drifting to sleep, the redhead began going through some kind of a very verbal episode of self loathing.
You felt her soft body quiver against yours as she cried violently and listed all the things she hated about her life.
Most of them had something to do with her size.
Apparently she had been an athlete in her younger years, but all that came to an end one day after a particularly bad knee injury.
Upon learning that her leg would never fully heal, the woman fell into a depression, and from there began spiraling down into a life of obesity and even more health issues.
The most embarrassing of them was her flatulence. The weight gain had damaged her digestion, and she confessed having tried her best all night to hold back her farts, but it was simply impossible for this woman to go for more than five minutes without passing gas. You thought she had been gassy from the liquor, but apparently she had it this bad all the time, every day.
In addition to her flatulence, she also suffered from severe lethargy and was always sleepy. The woman explained to you how she didn't even leave her bed most days, let alone her apartment. Every day was a blur of naps, snacking, reality TV and masturbation. She cursed her dreary life and told you that she wanted to 'switch places'. That was the last thing you remembered her saying before you passed out in your post orgasm bliss.
As you woke up next morning to the comically long sound of your own fart and noticed the sensation of excess flesh in every part of your body, you realized that her choice of words might have been more than just wishful thinking. Your own body was nowhere to be seen.
You saw a note on the floor, but despite your panic, you couldn't even bring yourself to go pick it up. Your new female body felt completely drained of energy. All you could get yourself to do was to pathetically reach out towards the piece of paper with your jiggling arm, but it was futile.
Soon, your outstretched hand was between your crotch, as if guided there by some new instinct. You continued to finger yourself lazily in a state of hungover heat, until you felt something resembling an orgasm - one of thousands more to come - and promptly fell back asleep, into your new life as a horny, lazy slob.
