The both of them patiently waited for a response.
“Snoogies,” Gemma said, shaking her head. “They were so tasty, too. And they’re kinda cool. We could’ve had a lot of fun with them.”
“And this isn’t fun?” Edgar cracked a smile.
“Maybe once this is all over and we look back on it, sure. Right now I just don’t want to take you to a delivery room.”
“Me neither,” he agreed, suddenly remembering television shows about women giving birth. He had no idea he still retained those memories, but now they were all he could think about. Their massive bellies and the dozen doctors and nurses all huddled around and the screaming and the voices telling the women to push, push!—it made him nauseous.
His phone beeped.
“That’s the address,” he said, showing Gemma the message. “It isn’t far from here.”
“Thank God. Let’s go.”
Mr. Kipper’s house sat atop a knoll not more than two miles away from the barn at the end of a path consisting of a dirt road, a pavement country road, and another dirt road winding up to the mailbox and front porch. Much like the barn, the house itself was old and faded, flaked with a beautiful white paint that had seen better days. Edgar wouldn’t have been surprised if the place had been standing for a hundred years or more.
Gemma parked the truck right next to the house and they both got out. Edgar didn’t make it to the front door before pain shot through his lower abdomen. He stumbled and cried out, collapsing against Gemma’s body. She helped him to a swinging bench.
“Shit,” he cursed, once the pain had died down.
“Edgar, look at me. You okay?” Gemma asked. “That must’ve been a contraction.”
A chill ran down his spine. “A contraction? Gemma, don’t joke about this. Not right—”
“I’m not joking! Edgar, it’s a sign that the baby wants to come out. Not yet, but soon. We might have a couple of hours. It’s not long.”
He closed his eyes and took in a long breath. “Great.”
“You stay here while I go inside and look.” She fumbled with the keys and opened the front door.
“Go on. I’m not going anywhere.” Just hurry, he thought.
The image of being carted into a delivery room was beginning to look a little more vivid in his head. Edgar tried to shut his eyes tight, but the pictures wouldn’t go away. All the doctors and nurses were confused. They were calling his parents, arguing with them, saying that this young pregnant girl was supposed to be a boy and that she was about to give birth. He tried to speak, to tell them that this was all wrong and that they had the wrong person, but no one was listening. It was all ordered chaos. Then, he was on the bed and they were spreading his legs open, telling him how it looked down there. It was all a foreign language to him. All the lights and the instruments made him dizzy, and the machines beeping and the pain slashing through his stomach, trying to rip him open.
No, that last part was real. It felt like someone had their hands in his belly and was squeezing his stomach as hard as possible. It passed after a few seconds.
“I’ve had enough of being pregnant,” Edgar murmured, trying to find some humor in the situation. “It’s definitely not for me.”
His entire body was sweating. He pulled the shirt up to expose his belly, figuring that would help circulate the air a little better. That huge mound just below his chest was a curious thing to look at. It wasn’t like a fat person’s belly. Rather, it was amazingly round and stiff, just sticking out there. He brought his fingers across it, just feeling the smooth skin and the contour. It truly was an alien thing.
He felt something furry around his lower legs and looked down to see a black cat rubbing up against his shins. He reached down to pet it right as another contraction hit him.
Gemma barged through the screen door. “Edgar? You still all right?”
He straightened in the seat, cradling the bottom of his massive belly. “Yeah, sure. You find anything?”
She shook her head. “No. I went through all the rooms, all the closets, checked every drawer and trash can I could find. Nothing.”
“Fuck. They have to be somewhere. Maybe he buried them. He didn’t want us to find them, right?”
Gemma wasn’t so sure. “Bury them? I figure he wanted to get rid of them for good. That’s why I checked the trash.”
“Gemma.” Edgar nodded his head towards the driveway. Just on the other side of the truck were two garbage bins. “What about those?”
“If we’re lucky.”
She jogged down the steps and over towards the bins. After flipping the first’s lid open, she looked inside and pulled out three bags of trash. Then, she went over to the second one. Something must’ve caught her attention, for she bent over on the edge until both of her feet were dangling a few inches off the ground. As the bin started to topple over, she landed on her feet again—with a yellow bag of candy in her right hand.
“Got it!”
Edgar put his face into his palms. “About time.” Another contraction stabbed his abdomen.
“He tossed them right out,” she said, coming back to the porch. “Edgar, I don’t see any white ones left. What should we do? Pink will change you back into a guy, and—”
“Yeah, that one. We have to try that.”
Edgar tossed one of the gender-swap pills into his mouth and chewed once before swallowing it all down. The watermelon flavor was rich and moist right on his tongue, but he had no time to savor that. The way he saw it was that the change would turn him back into a guy, and guys couldn’t get pregnant right? Maybe the transformation would just erase the baby in his belly, or something else. He hoped for that. It’d be quick and easy.
A minute passed and the tingles returned. Gemma’s t-shirt began to feel extra tight around his shoulders, and her pants were rather constrictive over his groin. Those were both good signs.
When he glanced down, he was a complete guy again—except for his pregnant belly.
“Fuck!” Edgar shouted. “Why didn’t that work? That was supposed to work!”
“Maybe it just changes you,” she said. “You can change sex, but the baby doesn’t change. It makes it work, somehow. Turn back into a girl.”
“Fine.” Edgar gobbled down another pink candy as another contraction occurred. He was quickly getting tired of those. Each time it felt like he was a little closer to labor, a little closer to that baby coming out. It wasn’t helping to keep him calm.
He reverted back to a girl. The pregnant belly remained.
Gemma looked in the bag again. “Black changes race. That won’t do anything. The yellow and blue ones just make you smaller or larger. Purple makes you younger, and orange makes you older, right? I think that’s what he said.”
Edgar snapped his fingers. “Let me try one of those. Maybe if I’m older, the baby will be born already? I don’t know how this shit works.”
She fetched one out of the bag. “Worth a shot.”
He tossed it into his mouth. He didn’t even chew it. Time was a precious commodity at the moment, and each contraction was one more closer to giving birth right there on Kipper’s doorstep. The last thing he wanted was that. Maybe if he made himself older the baby would be out of his body. The changes happened so quick. He probably wouldn’t even feel it come out.
Edgar felt the familiar tingles. They were quite shallow this time. Since he was already a young adult, going up about five more years didn’t change much. Maybe his boobs got a little bigger, and perhaps his butt was a little wider. He couldn’t be certain. He didn’t really care.
Regardless, the pregnant belly remained, and so did the contractions.
“Damn!” Gemma turned away and stared down towards the road. She was just as frustrated as he was, unable to figure out what needed to be done to fix this.
“What if we go the other way? Like, way back,” Edgar suggested. “I’ll eat the purple ones.”
She shook her head. “It won’t matter. It didn’
t go away when you got older. It won’t when you get younger. It’ll stay. Even if it did, you’d be stuck as a kid again. The life in your belly is separate from you. Nothing will change it. You have to give birth, Edgar.” She turned back to him. “I don’t want to say it, but it’s the only way.”
Edgar didn’t want to believe it. “I can’t! Gemma, please! Me giving birth to a real child? What … what are we even going to do? Neither one of us is an expert on childbirth. We’d have to go to a hospital.”
“I know.”
“They’d ask questions, ask me who I was, contact my parents—”
“I know. It’s not pretty.”
“There has to be another way!”
Gemma glanced down at the black cat. It had plopped itself down between the two of them to groom its fur. Apparently it wasn’t bothered by strangers, or the heated conversations.
She looked into the bag. “There’s one other idea I have, but you won’t like it.”
Edgar winced as another contraction hit him. “It’s better than nothing.”
She pulled out one of the apple-flavored candies, the green one. “When you were a dog, you had no control of yourself, right?”
He shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t think of myself as a human. I was a dog, and I acted like one.”
Gemma nodded. “Here’s what I propose. You change into a copy of this cat. You give birth to a kitten. Then you change back. No one’s going to care if one cat out in the country gives birth to a kitten.”
Edgar’s heart skipped a beat. “But, the child … will the child change into an unborn kitten?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“It’s our only shot right now. You turn yourself into a cat and hopefully give birth to a kitten, or else I drive you to the hospital and take you to a delivery room.”
Edgar stared at the tiny candy between his fingers as another contraction shot through his belly. They were getting more intense, and he presumed that the trend would continue. He remembered being the dog. So much had happened since then, but he hadn’t forgotten it. It was like another mind had taken over, another consciousness with different instincts and desires, like some sort of auto-pilot. He was aware of not being himself, but not enough to realize he was a human mind inside an animal’s body.
“All right,” Edgar said. “I take this, and Mr. Kipper is reborn as a tiny kitten.”
Gemma nodded. “We hope.”
With one final glance to the black cat curled up on the ground, Edgar pushed the candy into his mouth and swallowed. The only thing to do now was wait for the tingles.
I’m really doing this, he thought. Oh my God.
“Oh am I glad to finally be inside where it’s warm!” Gemma announced, removing her coat and brushing the tiny flakes of snow off. The little furry critter in her arm was squirming to free itself. “Okay Kipper, hang on a second.” She fetched a bowl and filled it with nutritious salmon-flavored cat food. The six-month-old kitten practically jumped from her arms and trotted off towards it, pushing its snout into the delicious feast. It began to purr.
Edgar entered the bedroom shortly after, removing his hoodie. He shut and locked the door.
“You know, you should be the one feeding her. Technically you are the mother,” she said.
“Yeah, don’t remind me.”
Gemma flopped down on the bed, spreading her arms out. “I’m glad it’s winter. I never liked summer, not like other girls. They all wanted to wear short shorts and go swimming. I was never like that.”
Swimming, Edgar thought, suddenly remembering that summer day so long ago when they spied a beautiful woman out in the water without a single piece of clothing to conceal her body. He remembered that vividly, her coming ashore, the water dripping from her golden hair and firm breasts. After that was a blur of different things, them wrapped up together, being pinned down to the ground, and then coming to realize that something horrible had happened.
You didn’t forget things like that, being a pregnant girl. Mr. Kipper had been determined to start a new life as an unborn child to a new mother. It was only by Gemma’s quick thinking that he didn’t have to go to the delivery room to push out a living child from his womb. Thankfully, he didn’t remember much about being the cat. It hadn’t been for long—Gemma mentioned that it was less than an hour before the kitten popped out. He was glad that part of his life was a little foggy. All those vivid details could perfectly well remain as they were, hidden in some part of his brain and never to be found again.
Gemma pushed herself up. “Dad said you could stay the night, Edgar.”
“He’s letting you keep boys up here now?”
“Well, not exactly.” She went for the drawer—the same one with the cigarettes—and pulled out a familiar yellow bag. He didn’t have to see the name on the package to know what it was. “He doesn’t mind me having a girlfriend over for a sleepover, remember?”
Edgar spotted a pink piece of candy in her palm. “I don’t know.”
“Please? I already told Dad you were staying, so you kinda have to be a girl for a little while.”
“We haven’t touched those things for six whole months.”
“Yeah, and I want to try them again. If we’re smart about it, nothing can go wrong,” she reasoned. “There’s plenty of pink ones left, and a bunch of the other colors. Just no whites, so we can’t go too crazy. One of the pinks turns you into a girl, and another makes you a guy again. Remember?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I definitely remember that.” He picked it up from her hand. “You really want me to be a girl that bad?”
She jumped up from the bed and kissed him on the lips. “I’m not telling you to do anything. But I think it’d be neat. I’ve lost count of how many girls-only sleepovers I’ve been too.”
Edgar looked her in the eyes. “And what would we do? Do each other’s hair and share stories of our first time kissing a boy? I don’t think I could participate in that.”
Gemma wrapped her arms around him. “Well, some of the girls I know are naughtier than others. They’ve experimented with other girls. You should hear the stories. You wouldn’t believe them!”
“Like what?” he asked, popping the candy into his mouth.
Her cheeks reddened. “Oh, I don’t know if I should tell. There was a girl I knew—Jessica. She admitted to spying on me when we were younger, watching me change clothes. I didn’t know about it at the time. I guess she was really into me. It was one of those spin-the-bottle type things, you know.”
“Of course.”
“She had to admit it. Her deepest darkest secret. No one took it seriously. We’d laugh and watch a movie or whatever, or talk about some cute boys we knew. It was the typical girly stuff. But I really think she was trying to get into my pants at the time. I was just too clueless to see it.”
“And what’s your darkest secret?”
Gemma stepped closer until their lips were only inches apart. He felt the tingles, and then he was shrinking right there next to her, turning his head upward a little to still meet her gaze. Hair fell into his eyes. His body had finished changing.
“Well, I thought about what she said, about doing it with another girl,” she said.
“And?”
“I’ll let you know in a bit.”
She leaned in and kissed him deeply. It was a familiar taste, and very much sweet. He pulled her close as he always did, hugging her body tight and running his hands up her figure, bringing her in firmly until not a centimeter of space separated the two of them. He loved the contour of her body against his, the intensity in her mouth, the tongue trying to force its way in …
… and the hand coping a feel of his breast.
Edgar pulled away. “Hey, one thing at a time here! I’ve been a girl for maybe one minute.”
She grinned. “And your clothes are still on.”
“I’m working on that.”
He pulled the shirt off. It seemed two sizes
too large now, especially around his shoulders. Gemma was glad to take it from him and toss it all the way across the room. He felt a chill on his chest and gazed down to see his nipples perking up. Only a faint memory came back of him looking at his breasts six months ago, and the nipples here seemed larger than back then. He squeezed one between his forefinger and thumb, and gasped. Gemma grabbed the other one and gave it a soft, unexpected twist.
Edgar’s breath escaped his lungs. “Holy cow.”
“Sensitive, huh? I bet you never felt that as a guy.”
He shook his head.
When winter came along, less time had been spent out in the sun. And even when he was outside, only his face was typically exposed. As a result, his torso appeared much like ivory carved in the shape of a woman’s torso. His nipples stood out bright and pink, each increasingly fat and turgid as Gemma continued to toy with them. She knew just the right amount of pressure to apply to reach that thin line between feeling nothing at all and sharp pain.
Edgar rolled his head back and moaned softly. He hadn’t intended to. He had felt a bubble in his throat and his voice had come out with it. It was pleasant to his ears and clearly girlish. The pleasure faded from his chest as Gemma took her clothes off. They kissed again after that, their arms all over each other, squeezing and pinching. Edgar giggled when their nipples rubbed together.
Gemma was smiling too. “Haven’t felt that before.”
It was so odd to be shorter than her, to have to look up in her eyes. He didn’t mind it. It was neat to be different, to be in a girl’s body, to see things from a new perspective. Six months ago he had wanted to change back as soon as humanly possible, but now he saw the attraction of being the opposite sex. There was a whole other world of sensations, of strange tingles that made his toes curl, and enhanced scents that built up a heat in his lower abdomen. Being half-naked with Gemma was nothing new, and yet, at the same time, it seemed entirely like a different experience.
Edgar was so lost in this new colorful world that he barely saw her hand going down the front of his pants. He felt something probing between his legs, and his eyes shot open.
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