Pete's Vagina -3- Offsides (Patreon)

I drove without saying anything for a bit as we wandered through the upscale housing around the country club where the road and the beautiful homes squiggled around the ponderosa pines. I always forget that this area isn’t actually in the city limits until I reach the highway and the welcome sign that says, “Now Entering Friendly, Arizona. Population 12,765 FRIENDLY People.”

Corny but it usually makes me smile. Not this time, though.

So, driving. Driving takes some concentration, and with a little effort, enough to keep me from thinking for a few minutes maybe.

One direction on the Beeline Highway leads to Phoenix, about sixty miles south and a little west. The other direction, called Zane Grey Avenue, goes to the center of town and then on to Winston, our chief rival in the Mogollon Rim League, almost 40 miles on the other side of the Rim itself. But I wasn’t thinking about football.

A few hours ago, I had woken up after spending the night losing my virginity to the cheerleader in the passenger seat, Megan D’Auguste. But I’d lost something else: my dick and balls were gone, replaced this morning with what looked like a girl’s pussy. It still made me cringe just to think about it.

Megan said maybe her aunt and granny could help. Aunt is a doctor and granny is a conjure woman, whatever that is. But Megan just admitted to me that Aunt Louva is a gynecologist.

“Hell, no,” I repeated. My insides still felt like ice and the missing part of me ached with absence. I tried to keep myself distracted with driving because too much thinking might cause me to start crying again. I wanted to be angry about what had happened to me, but the truth was, I felt too scared to be really mad. The best I could manage was a dogged feeling of resentment.

“Petey,” Megan began but I cut her off.

“It’s obvious this is some sort of magic, so it’s your granny’s department, not your aunt’s,” I said, prepared to get stubborn about this.

Megan had a peculiar hang-dog expression when I glanced at her. I frowned. “Something you’re not telling me?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not—not really. I guess I’m just feeling guilty.”

“Did you do something?” I demanded, almost pissed suddenly.

“No, no, Petey. I didn’t do something. But… but I am something.”

“Huh?” I paused at the light at the bottom of the hill. The next light would be our turn, east on Ponderosa toward that edge of town where the hospital was across the street from the big Mormon Temple.

Megan didn’t say anything. When the light changed and we moved forward, I asked her, “You are something? What does that mean?”

“Granny Marie…” she began then stopped. “Magic? This has to be magic.” She shrugged. “It’s in my family…do you see?”

“No,” I said, biting back something mean and nasty. But she looked so hurt at the tone of my voice that I softened it a little. “You could have warned me.”

We turned at the corner and Megan moved a little closer to me. “What would I have said? I didn’t know that… that something might happen? I mean….” She trailed off.

I chewed on that.

“Would you have believed me if I had warned you?” she asked. “Petey, my family are all witches and wizards, best not… not….”

I snorted. “But it was your idea,” I pointed out. “You practically insisted!”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. “You see why I feel guilty?”

I didn’t reply, making the turn onto the apron of asphalt around the Medical Center. The parking lot was not too crowded, probably not all the offices were open on a Saturday morning, so I found a spot near the entrance easily. The four floor wing was the hospital itself, but the part that was just one and two stories was medical offices and a pharmacy.

I got out and Megan scooted over to exit on the driver’s side too. I stood there a moment and she took my arm in both her hands. “You really do need to see Aunt Louva, uh, Dr. Verre. Granny’s going to want to know just what has been done to you.”

I didn’t shake her off but let her lead me into the building. Just walking made me aware again of what was missing in my pants. The feeling of wrongness left me weak in the knees with shivers running up my spine. My eyes burned and my mouth wanted to twist up. It took effort to maintain calm and just walk.

No one stopped us when as we passed through a waiting room crowded with young mothers and small children. We stoppedok in front of a door marked STAFF and Megan rapped lightly on the glass.

I glanced back at the young women, some holding babies on their laps and Megan whispered to me, “Well-baby clinic.”

I’d never heard the phrase before but I could figure out what it meant. Most of the women did not look terrifically affluent, and while Friendly is not in what is known as a depressed area, the town did have a number of families that were less than wealthy. Getting a check-up for a baby was probably good, and Megan had mentioned earlier that this was something her aunt did for free on Saturdays.

While we waited for someone to let us in the side door, I looked around the room, smiling because who can scowl at a baby? Most of the women and children smiled back, and weirdly, it made me feel better. I had a problem, sure, but life is good in a world where babies smile at you.

The door finally opened and an older black woman in a blue nurse’s smock let us in. She was much darker than Megan but something about the line of her jaw or her eyes told me that this was one of my girlfriend’s relatives.

I saw she was also older than I had first thought. “Ma petite,” the old lady said. “Is this the boy you told me about?” She had a accent, or maybe more accurately, a flavor in the way she spoke. It made me think of rich coffee and jambalaya.

“Yes, Granny Marie. This is Petey Petersen. Petey, this is my Granny Marie Duquesne.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” I said. Not that I was, but I’m always polite to older people.

“Call me Granny Marie,” she said, showing her very fine teeth in a smile. “Surely, your given name isn’t Peter, is it?”

I blushed. “Uh, no ma’am, but I go by Pete or Petey at school. I don’t like my first name much. Uh, my relatives call me Hunter or—or Hunt.” That’s not my given name either, but very few people knew that secret, outside of family and school administration.

“Sometimes I call him ‘Hun’,” said Megan and they both giggled. How old was Granny Marie? However old she was, she didn’t sound ridiculous giggling like a girl, she sounded like she enjoyed life.

But the old lady nodded. “Margaret here prefers to be called Megan,” she added. “I see you’re not volunteering what your first name really is.” She smirked, “Must be really embarrassing.”

I felt myself blush but I kept quiet.

Another woman came into the room, just about splitting the difference in skin color between Megan and Granny. She was dressed in a pantsuit in some shade of violet and had a stethoscope around her neck and a clipboard in her hand. “I’m Dr. Verre, Megan’s aunt.” Like most doctors, she didn’t put out a hand to shake but she did give me a long careful look.

Megan introduced me. “Aunt Lou, this is Pete Hunter Petersen, the boy I told you about on the phone.”

“I-I….” I couldn’t seem to do anything but stammer. She was a beautiful woman, as pretty as Megan, and I felt especially awkward at the thought that she would have to examine me.

“I’ve got a busy day and lots of people in the waiting room, but I’m going to squeeze in an examination for you, Mr. Hunter, and since I’m running a free clinic here today, I’m not going to ask for your insurance credentials,” Dr. Verre said, looking me directly in the eye.

“Huh?” I said. Why was she calling me Mr. Hunter?

She sighed. “Get up on the table, please. Sit with your feet on the step.”

I climbed into the position she indicated and she proceeded to take my temperature, pulse and other vitals, and use her little flashlight on my eyes, ears, nose and throat.

“You seem remarkably healthy, Mr. Hunter. Are you suffering from a mild hangover?”

“Uh….” I decided to nod in answer to that. “Yes, I guess I am. Ma’am.”

She nodded and wrote something on her clipboard. “I’m going to need you to undress for the rest of the exam, Mr. Hunter.” She looked at Megan while Granny removed something from a cabinet and placed it on the padded exam table. “We’ll all leave while you get undressed and Megan will wait outside. When you have the examination gown on, opening in the front, knock on the door and Marie and I will come back in.”

“I….” I still couldn’t think of anything to say. “Yes, ma’am,” I managed.

They left, Megan pausing to give me a peck on the cheek. “It’s nothing,” she said, trying to reassure me. “Aunt Lou is very gentle.”

Once alone, I almost panicked. What was I doing there, in a gynecologist’s office? This had to be some sort of a nightmare, it couldn’t be happening. I’d been knocked unconscious in the football game last night, or I had gotten drunk at the party and fallen downstairs…. I was really in a hospital with my head shaved waiting for brain surgery….

I put a hand down on the unreasonably flat front of my pants. Then I stuck a hand down in my pants. If I was having a nightmare, it was a damned consistent one. I got undressed quickly after that, trying not to think about things. When the knock came at the door, I was sitting on the padded table, holding the gown closed in front of me and trying not to cry again.

“Come in,” I called out, my voice squeaking slightly. The door opened and Dr. Verre came in followed by Granny Duquesne. Megan stayed out.

Dr. Verre smiled at me. “Nervous?” she asked.

I nodded, afraid to speak.

“Everyone is their first time, honey,” said Granny.

I winced.

The two women helped me to a new position on the table, leaning back on a cushion, with my knees apart and my feet in foot-holding posts they attached to the table. I had never felt so vulnerable and frightened.

“Hmm,” said Dr. Verre. “Remarkable.”

I didn’t want to know but I asked anyway. “W-what?”

“Remarkable in its ordinariness,” she expanded. “You have a perfectly normal, healthy appearing vulva.”

I didn’t know that word but I wasn’t going to ask.

She moved closer. “Outer labia are well-formed, inner labia protrude slightly and show a lot of pink, clitoral hood and clitoris….” She was touching me, I could feel her but I couldn’t tell where. I didn’t hear anything else she said because the roaring in my ears drowned out her voice. A shiver of icy dread reached my brain and my vision went black.

*

I did hear someone say, “I think she fainted.” It sounded like the old woman with a note of amusement.

“Well, for goodness sakes,” said the doctor. “Are you all right, Miss Hunter?”

“I’m—I’m not sure,” I heard my voice respond. “Did you—what did you…call me?”

“Oh.” Now she sounded amused. “Well, it’s hard to refer to you as mister when I have contrary evidence in front of me. Give her the mirror, Marie.”

Granny put a mirror in my hand and moved it to where I could see what the doctor was doing. She had some peculiar looking instruments in her hands but, as I had in the bathroom back at Joanna’s, I could see clearly where my dick and balls used to be. They were gone.

“If you faint again, I’m going to use the smelling salts,” warned Granny.

I shook my head.Instead of feeling light headed, I felt sick at my stomach. But I watched as Dr. Verre put a gleaming instrument up inside me and squeezed the handle creating an astonishing sensation. The metal was cold and uncomfortable but it was the feeling of being opened up that made it freaky.

With the mirror, I could see a narrow pink tube up inside me. “This is your vagina, Miss Hunter,” the doctor said. She used more tools that reminded me of dentist equipment. “At the inner end is your cervix and beyond that….” She paused, continuing her examination. “And yes, you appear to have a uterus.”

She turned to the older woman, Granny. “We’ll want to do a full ultrasound but that lab is not open on Saturday.” Then she looked me directly in the face. “Miss Hunter, you are apparently a fully functional female. You can expect to have your first period in the next several weeks. Unless, of course, you get pregnant.”

I didn’t know whether to faint again or just throw up, so I settled on screaming.