Adrián was naturally thin, one of those bodies that never quite filled out the clothes. That afternoon he had gone out with Valeria, his lifelong friend, to do some shopping. They talked about anything while carrying the bags. The sky looked heavy, but neither of them expected the downpour that fell all at once.
Valeria pulled a raincoat from her bag and put it on while laughing. Adrián had nothing. In less than a minute he was soaked to the bone. The cold water seeped through his shirt, through his pants, through his skin. They ran to her house. When they entered, Valeria threw him a towel and pointed to the stairs.
“Go up, take a shower and change. My brother’s clothes should be around somewhere. Yours will dry in the meantime.”
Adrián went up. He showered with hot water until he stopped shivering. He came out wrapped in a towel and went into the hallway. The door to the brother’s room was locked. He tried twice. Nothing.
He returned to Valeria’s room, opened the closet and sighed. There was only her clothes. Dresses, blouses, skirts.
In the end he took a simple cream-colored strap dress, the loosest one he could find. He put it on thinking it would only be for a little while. To his surprise, it fit him almost perfectly. The fabric fell over his thin shoulders and adjusted at the waist with a naturalness that felt strange. He looked at himself for a second in the closet mirror and looked away, uncomfortable.
When Valeria returned (she had forgotten a bag and come back under the rain), she found him standing in the living room in the cream dress. She stopped short and burst out laughing.
“No way… Are you serious?”
Adrián felt the heat rise to his face.
“Your brother’s door is locked. There wasn’t anything else.”
Valeria approached, still laughing, and made him turn around a couple of times.
“It looks better on you than it should, I swear. Wait.”
She went to her room and came back with a makeup case. Adrián tried to refuse, but she was already in “let’s do something stupid” mode. She applied a little concealer, a touch of blush, a soft lipstick. Every time he protested, she laughed harder.
“Relax, it’s just so we can die laughing.”
They opened a bottle of wine. Then another. The rain wouldn’t stop. It kept hitting the windows with the same insistence as hours before, as if something in the water had patience.
The changes started discreetly.
First it was the skin. It became a little softer to the touch. Then the waist, which seemed to narrow under the cream dress. Adrián noticed it when he ran a hand along his side, but the alcohol was already clouding his head enough not to give it importance. Valeria didn’t say anything either. They just kept laughing.
Near dusk, Valeria decided the cream dress was already “boring.”
“Come on, try this one, then this one, and then this one.”
That afternoon Adrián spent it as Valeria’s personal doll: first a skirt, then a full outfit, then a bikini. They had so much alcohol in their brains that neither of them noticed that Adrián looked more and more like a woman.
In the end Valeria handed him a short, dark dress with thin straps. Underneath she made him put on a thin, almost transparent white blouse. Adrián, already light-headed from the wine, changed in the same living room between laughs. The dark dress fit him tighter than the previous one. The fabric clung to thighs that seemed to have rounded in the last few hours. The blouse underneath marked a chest that was no longer completely flat. There was a soft, sensitive swelling that brushed the fabric every time he moved.
“You’re weird,” Valeria said, squinting, still smiling. “Like more… I don’t know. Soft.”
“It’s the alcohol,” Adrián answered, though his voice sounded a little higher than normal.
They kept drinking. The rain didn’t cease. Every time Adrián moved he felt the dark dress in a different way: tighter at the waist, looser at the shoulders, more present on the chest. The body was changing with the same constancy with which the water fell outside. The shoulders had narrowed. The hips pushed the fabric. Between the legs, a new and uncomfortable sensitivity was beginning to settle, but the alcohol kept him in a cloud where everything seemed like a heavy joke.
Near midnight Diego, Valeria’s brother, arrived. He came in shaking off his umbrella, heard the laughter and peeked his head in. He saw his sister and another girl (or what looked like a girl) in the living room, made up, in dresses, passing the bottle. He rolled his eyes.
“You two are wasted.”
He went up to his room without saying more.
Hours later, Diego came down for a glass of water. In the living room there was a soft noise. His sister’s “friend” was standing near the sofa, disoriented. The dark dress clung to the body in a way that left no more room for doubt: defined chest, marked waist, round hips. She looked dizzy.
“Hey… are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. “I’ll help you get to a room.”
He touched her arm.
She turned. She had a bright, confused, almost tender look. And suddenly she threw herself at him. It wasn’t violent. It was clumsy, needy, like someone who still believes they’re dreaming. She kissed him. Diego, surprised, responded.
They ended up on the sofa.
Adrián felt the weight of Diego’s body on top of him, the hot breath, the hands going up under the dark dress. He thought it was a weird dream. He made jokes between moans, laughed against Diego’s neck, said things like “what the hell is this dream so real.” At one point, with his head still clouded, he took off the dress and the blouse completely. He was left naked in front of him, in the dim light of the living room, without fully understanding why his body felt so different or why the wetness between his legs was so obvious. Diego looked at him for a few seconds in silence and then took him with more eagerness.
When Diego penetrated him, the burn and the pleasure mixed in a confusing way. Adrián clung to him between drunk laughs and gasps, still convinced that he would wake up in his own bed.
It wasn’t like that.
He woke up when the morning light came through the window. He was in Diego’s bed, completely naked. The body he recognized when he looked down was no longer his: soft, heavy chest, narrow waist, rounded hips, and between the legs only a sensitive opening covered by Diego’s dry cum.
His blood ran cold.
The door opened.
Valeria appeared in the doorway, still in pajamas, with messy hair. She looked at the bed. She looked at her brother. She looked at Adrián.
“Valeria, wait a second, it’s not what you think.”
She stayed silent for several seconds.
Then she let out a short, incredulous laugh while bringing a hand to her mouth.
“No… way…”
And that was the end of everything.
The End.

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