Robert felt the acceleration press him back into his seat, as the plane started its take-off roll. The flight had been delayed about ten minutes, and during those minutes he'd been starting to get a little anxious. Then at last, the flight was cleared to go. Now the plane's nose was angling up, there was a little giddy sensation in his stomach as the wheels left the ground, and the jet was airborne.

And then he felt the elation. He'd done it, he'd made it! In about three hours he'd be in the Bahamas. He'd be spending the weekend there. Tuesday he'd be flying again, and Wednesday he'd be safely settling down in South America.

He let himself relax into his large first-class seat, and he smiled. It had almost been too easy. He thought back to the beginning of last year, and the events that had brought him here.

Robert Green had just been made junior partner at the firm. It wasn't a huge company, but they had a nice Bay Street office in downtown Toronto, and they took care of some medium- to large-scale clients. Then in early February he'd been handed a new account.

It was a pair of young women, both in their early twenties. He'd met Nicole first, and hadn't been that impressed. She was petite and attractive, but the black lipstick and heavy eyeliner didn't do anything for him. A couple weeks later he'd met the other one, Samantha. She was taller, and easier on the eyes, though she dressed like a hippy. Robert assumed one of them was an heiress or something.

There was a slightly complicated set of accounts to manage, and they were setting up a few corporations and holding companies. Over-all, there were more than two dozen different accounts, trusts, and mutual funds to be managed. The whole portfolio was worth around twenty-five million in total. He was responsible for looking after their money and investments, and would coordinate the various corporate and personal tax returns each year.

The second or third time he'd met with them, he found out the couple had just gotten married. Well, that sort of thing was legal now. He'd also met a few others who were part of their extended family or something. A cute redhead, a tall blonde 'enby' whatever the hell that was, and a small blonde teen.

The couple were building a winery and spa retreat. They were just breaking ground on the first building when he'd first got involved last February, and now they were hoping to open the doors in a few months. In a year or three it might even see a profit, if it lasted that long.

To be fair, they were actually pretty good clients. They tended to be very hands-off, and he made quite a bit of commission from them, for work that he typically handed off to his secretary or assistant. Most of his involvement had been in face-to-face meetings. The young women would have him drive down to Niagara region every other month, to meet with them for an hour or two. At first they'd met in some fancy restaurants, then after their new home was completed, he started meeting them there.

Robert had never thought too much about where the girls' money came from. He already decided it was an inheritance that they were squandering on their winery pipe-dream. His responsibility was to look after the accounts, do what they wanted, and make sure there weren't any accounting practices being violated, and report any obvious crimes if he saw them. Not worry about where the money came from, or how they were wasting it.

That all changed in September. Nicole had taken eighty grand out of one of the funds. The couple wanted a second Land Rover for Samantha's sister, the cute redhead. That was fine, Robert advised them of the tax implications and the market conditions, then arranged the transfer.

Then two weeks later he noticed something. Eighty grand had re-appeared in that fund. It caught his eye because of the amount, and the timing. He got curious, and dug a little more. He discovered, every dollar that left the account was replaced by a mystery deposit. Usually within one to two weeks.

The transfers were coming from another set of accounts that he didn't have access to. There was nothing obviously illegal about it, but it was suspicious. He started to question his heiress theory, and discovered both girls' parents were still alive and definitely weren't wealthy, so it wasn't an inheritance. His next guess was that they were laundering money for organized crime. He wasn't sure of course, but he couldn't see any other explanation.

He watched for a while, and the pattern continued. There were a half dozen active accounts that were tied to the corporations and holding company. Any time money left those accounts, more would appear. The rest of the accounts and funds were much quieter.

Finally, greed got the better of him. There was a group of about a dozen regular transfers that came out every month. It amounted to over a quarter million dollars in total, that was being sent as anonymous donations to a number of LGBT charities around the world. Since it was going out anonymously there weren't any receipts coming back in, so if those donations were diverted, no-one would notice.

The night before the transfers were to happen, Robert quietly changed the routing. The following day, a quarter million went into a private offshore account of his own. After it was done, he changed things back again, so there'd be no sign it had happened.

There'd been no reaction. No-one called, no-one questioned. Robert knew the two young women weren't interested in accounting, and now he knew they weren't keeping a close eye on the accounts or the transfers. The following month he did it again, and took another quarter million. Again, there was no reaction.

By now he was positive the girls were crooked, and he was starting to resent them. A couple queers less than half his age, they were living in luxury, and did nothing to deserve it. Nicole with her fantasies of winemaking, and Samantha and her hippy-dippy spiritual retreat bullshit. Robert decided he deserved it as much as they did. He'd be taking a cut for himself.

The next two months, he diverted the donations again. He'd now taken over a million from the two young women, but it wasn't enough for what he had planned.

Over the next couple weeks the plan had come together. He thought briefly about bringing his wife. But Shelly had been getting on his nerves lately, and he had a feeling she'd make a fuss about where the money had come from. So he decided it would be a completely clean start for him.

It was now the second week of March. On Tuesday, he bought a first-class ticket to the Bahamas for Friday morning, and booked a suite at a nice hotel on the beach.

Wednesday night while his wife was out with a friend, he packed a small suitcase, and wrote a letter to his wife. The letter explained he was leaving her, and moving to the west coast. A little misdirection couldn't hurt, after all. He put the letter and suitcase in the trunk of his Lexus for now.

Thursday morning, he made the big transfer. Twelve million. He took it from the five most active accounts, all but draining them. He routed it through one of their quiet trust-fund accounts, so at the end of the month when people started digging, the trail would lead there first. From there, it was all transferred out to his overseas account.

Then for good measure, he also drained all of his and Shelly's funds and accounts, cashed out their stocks and investments, and moved everything over to his offshore account. In all he had over fifteen million waiting for him now.

He nearly had a heart-attack that afternoon when his secretary put through a call and he found himself talking to Nicole. However, the girl didn't seem to be aware of anything. She asked if he could come to see them tomorrow around noon, for another routine meeting. That was actually perfect timing. Robert agreed, and let his secretary know he'd be out of the office all day Friday, visiting his client in Welland. This way, no-one would question why he didn't come in to work in the morning.

That morning, he had coffee with Shelly, bid her a good day, then drove to the airport. As he passed a mailbox, he dropped off the letter for his wife. She'd get that in a few days. By the time anyone knew what really happened, he'd be in a country with no extradition treaty to Canada, where his millions would let him enjoy a life of luxury.

And now here he was. In a first class seat, over the Atlantic, sipping a complimentary mimosa. He'd done it, he'd gotten away with it! In a few hours he'd be sipping cocktails on the beach in Nassau.

He might miss Shelly a bit, but maybe not. He tried to get the wedding band off his finger. He found it was stuck though, so after a minute or two he gave up. Ah well, deal with that later. For now he decided to get a little more comfortable. He took off his tie and tucked it in the seat pocket infront of him, and undid the top two buttons of his shirt.

Some time after his third mimosa, Robert decided it was time to take a leak. He got up and made his way to the can. Airplane toilets were never that great, but at least in first-class you had room to turn around.

He locked the door, then took off his tailored suit jacket and hung it on a hook inside the door. He undid his belt and trousers and let his pants drop, then sat down on the toilet.

As he was peeing, he idly checked his watch. A few minutes past noon. Another hour before the plane touched down in Nassau.

He chuckled as he remembered the appointment. Nicole and Samantha would be sitting around waiting for him. They'd probably be calling his cellphone in a few minutes, or trying his office. He smiled to himself, "Too late girls. I'm gone."

When he was finished, he grabbed a couple sheets of paper from the dispenser, then he froze.

What the hell was he doing? Why did he sit down to pee? It had to be nerves, or stress, he decided. Even though he was basically home-free, maybe he still had some subconscious stress or something.

Robert decided to laugh it off. Maybe he should've skipped that third mimosa.

He stood up, and as he reached to pull up his trousers the wedding band slipped off his finger and fell to the floor. He stared at it for a few seconds. It had been too tight to budge when he'd pulled at it a little while ago.

He bent down and picked it up and slipped it into the left pocket of his button-down shirt, then he pulled up his pants and started doing them up.

Now something else was wrong. His perfectly tailored trousers were suddenly four or five inches too long, and at least six inches too big around his waist. Even on the tightest notch, the belt was nowhere near being able to hold his pants on him. There was several inches of space between the waist of the pants, and his body.

"What the fuck..." It made no sense. He was still holding his pants up with his hands. If he let go they'd just wind up around his ankles. As he stared at the pants, he realized the sleeves of his shirt were miles too long as well. The cuffs were bunched up over his hands.

Then it finally dawned on him, it wasn't that his clothes were bigger. He was smaller. He was shrinking!

He glanced up at the small mirror above the sink and his eyes went wide. He almost didn't recognize himself.

The grey that had spent the last two decades spreading through his hair was gone. But his hair hadn't returned to its original black, it had faded to a sandy blond, and had grown several inches since he'd combed it this morning.

And his face looked young! Like a teen! Not only was his moustache was gone, there was no trace of any facial hair at all.

Robert reached up, running a hand over his cheeks and chin, then upper lip. His skin was smooth and soft, and his lips seemed a little fuller. Then he realized his hand looked wrong too!

He let go of his pants, letting them drop to the floor again as he looked down at both hands. He had to pull his shirtsleeves up to get a better look. His hands were small and delicate, with slender fingers, and his fingernails were longer.

He realized with a shock, his hands looked like the hands of a girl!

His eyes flicked back to the mirror and he let out a yelp. His hair was now pale blonde and hung down to his shoulders. His face had changed further, taking on an undeniably feminine shape. His eyes seemed a little larger, and the irises were now a pale blue. His lips were much fuller, while his nose had grown smaller as had his chin, and his cheekbones were now a little higher.

He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be real. "What the fuck is happening?!"

He frowned. Even his voice was different. It had gone up about two octaves, and it sounded like he had some kind of slight accent now.

If anyone saw him right now, they'd think he was a young woman. Almost. There were still a few things missing.

As soon as he thought about that, he panicked. He scrambled to pull the shirt up so he could get a look at his groin. The sleeves kept getting in the way, slipping over his hands, and his watch was sliding around his narrow wrist, distracting him. Finally in a fit of frustration, he just pulled the shirt up over his head and let it fall to the floor of the washroom, ontop of his pants. His watch slipped off as well and joined his clothes on the washroom floor.

His eyes went wide at what he saw. Looking down at himself, he saw the body of a young woman, maybe even a teen. No more than twenty, anyways. His arms and legs were smooth and slim, and his skin was soft and fair. His breasts were probably a C cup, if not a D. His large nipples and areolae were dark pink. He had a narrow waist and a flat belly. His hips were wide, and from what he could see his ass was well-sculpted. And between his legs was a small neatly trimmed patch of blonde hair. Below that were the folds of his vulva.

"Oh no... No way..." He shook his head. His voice was now a light airy soprano, and there was definitely an accent now. Something from the UK, but he couldn't narrow it down beyond that.

"This isn't possible, it's not happening..." He wanted to sound angry, defiant. But instead it came out sounding pleading, frightened.

Did someone slip him something? Was he hallucinating? Or an allergic reaction maybe, something in the mimosas?

Robert's hands were shaking slightly as he reached up, and tentatively put his hands on his chest. He immediately gasped. They felt real. Really real. He'd groped enough boobs over the years to know what they felt like. He was also unprepared for how sensitive his nipples had become. He could feel them hardening under his fingers, and when he moved his hands, his fingers brushing them sent little shocks through his body.

He gasped again and pulled his hands away, eyes wide. His whole body was shaking a little now, as he tried to get control of his emotions. This felt real, but that's impossible. How could this be real?!

He stood there for another minute or two, just staring down at himself as he tried to force himself to keep calm. Finally there was a ding and he realized the 'fasten seatbelts' light had come on. It snapped him back to reality.

He was standing completely naked in a first-class washroom, in an airplane that would soon be landing in the Bahamas, and he looked like a young woman. His clothes wouldn't fit him, his ID no longer matched his appearance. And he looked like a young woman! Why the fuck did he look like a girl?!

He tried to demand, "What the fuck is going on?!" In his new voice, it sounded more like he was whining.

The plane hit some turbulence and lurched a little. Robert lost his balance and stumbled backwards three or four paces before his behind bumped into something solid. He was disoriented, there's no way the airplane washroom was that large!

He looked around, blinking a few times, then his body started trembling again. He recognized the office he now found himself standing in, along with the two women standing infront of him. It was impossible though. He was in an airplane over the Atlantic...

"Hello Mr. Green." Nicole said. "You're late for our appointment."

"And you're naked." Samantha pointed out. "That's unexpected."

"Cute, though." Nicole smirked.