Rachel's Friends at the Bar The Remote of Transformation chapter 5 by ThePanswapticon

The club floor looked different now. The lights seemed to caress him. Every pair of eyes he passed—guys, girls—lingered just long enough to make his chest tighten.

And waiting at the bar, three women with glittery tops and drinks in hand were waving at him.

“Kelsey?” Jerry guessed under his breath.

Jerry squared his shoulders—or rather, Rachel’s shoulders—and glided toward the bar like he’d been born in four-inch heels. Every step sent a subtle bounce through the dress that he could feel in his chest. God, no wonder every guy in the place turned to stare. It was like carrying two living, breathing stress balls strapped to his chest.

The trio of women spotted him and broke into cheers.

“There you are, bitch!” one of them yelled over the music. The woman—tiny, blonde, glitter everywhere—threw her arms around him, pressing her own breasts against Rachel’s. Jerry froze at the warm, squishy collision.

“Uh—yeah! I’m here,” he said, pitching his voice higher and smoothing it into something that sounded passably like Rachel’s earlier moan. It came out breathier than expected.

The blonde pulled back. “We already did two shots without you, so you owe us.”

The other friend, a brunette with hoop earrings the size of dinner plates, shoved a tequila shot into his hand. “Drink, girl. You look way too tense. Who was that dude outside? He looked like he wanted to fight you.”

Jerry blinked. Oh, right. Rachel-in-his-body. “Just… some creep,” he blurted, then tipped the shot back before they could ask more.

The tequila hit his tongue like fire and slid down his throat, leaving warmth blooming through Rachel’s body. He licked a bit of salt from the back of his hand—and froze. Even that small act felt electric. His tongue felt softer, smoother, and the taste lingered like sweet citrus on her lips.

The blonde laughed. “That’s more like it. Let’s dance!”

Before he could argue, they dragged him toward the dance floor.

The crowd swallowed them, bodies pressed so close Jerry felt Rachel’s breasts mash against the back of a stranger when someone bumped him. The music thumped so hard it felt like his ribs were vibrating in time.

“Move that ass, Rachel!” Hoop Earrings shouted, grinding against him playfully. Jerry tried to mimic the way she moved—hips rolling, weight shifting side to side—but Rachel’s body had curves and momentum he wasn’t used to. His ass jiggled in the dress, brushing against strangers, and every accidental graze sent a shiver shooting up his spine.

A guy with a chiseled jaw slid in behind him, hands gentle on his hips. Jerry froze, but the blonde shot him a thumbs-up like this was exactly what “Rachel” needed.

“Don’t be shy, babe,” the guy murmured in his ear, breath warm against his neck.

Jerry’s pulse spiked. No one had ever talked to him like that. His hips moved almost involuntarily, pressed against the stranger in time with the beat. The friction of the dress sliding between their bodies was… holy shit. It was like every nerve in Rachel’s lower half was wired straight to his brain.

His phone buzzed in the clutch, yanking him out of the moment.

He ducked away from the dance floor, heart pounding, and checked the screen. A string of angry messages lit it up:

Unknown Number:

“What the hell did you do to me?! Change me back now!!”

“This isn’t funny, dude.”

“If you don’t fix this, I’m going to the cops!”

Jerry stared at the texts. Rachel had his phone. Of course she did. Which meant… she knew his name, his face, everything.

And right now, she was stuck outside, furious, and—oh shit—probably trying to get in.