Donald had gone out for a celebratory drink with his lab assistant, Miss Hastings. He’d perfected the technology, and was ready to cut the demand for gasoline in half for everyone in the old USA; just a simple conversion kit.
Suddenly, he felt his head spinning; he’d been drugged. Donald fell to the floor, his body burning up and changing. He felt his skin crawl as his frame shrank down, and morphed. His dick shriveled, and his chest burst through the buttons of his shirt as his breast grew big and fat. Staring up at the ceiling, the last thing Donald saw was Miss Hastings smiling down at him.
. . .
“Welcome back Donald, or should I say Donna now,” said the dark hared mistress in black, reaching for the ropes around his neck. “You've certainly made your previous employers angry. Just who do you think controls the auto industry any way; environmentalist? Silly boy, there was no way you would be allowed to give people something that cut the need for gasoline in half. Now Donald is gone, all that wonderful engineering knowledge whipped away. But don’t worry; Mistress Heather has a whole new way for you to make a living. Your new owner is outside – some rich oil baron decided he wants’ to show you whose boss.”