Pete's Vagina -27- Ineligible Receiver (Patreon)

I sat there, unable to react. I certainly couldn’t speak. The waitress had just casually referred to Megan and me as girls. Had I changed again? Was it obvious?

There had been that moment back in the motel when Megan stared at me, starting to say something about how I looked. She had stopped herself, but what had she been about to say?

And now, she and the waitress were prattling on, and I had no idea what they were talking about. I was looking at the far wall, somewhere between the two of them, but I was unable to change even that. I didn’t want to look at either of them anyway. Doing so might require that I say something.

But the moment came anyway. Phyllis, (I could read the waitress’s name tag), smiled at me. “Is that your boyfriend’s jacket?” she asked. “You look cute in it!”

Cute!?

Megan’s eyes were wide open, almost bulging. I must not have looked like that!

Phyllis laughed. “Rah! Lions! I heard they won tonight.”

I surprised myself by making a noise. “Um,” I said. I was looking at the waitress now, so I smiled. At least, it may have been a smile or maybe just a grimace.

She smiled back, so my face must have been working. “Are you ready to order?” she asked. “Or are your boyfriends meeting you here?”

“Just us,” Megan managed to say. “I think we both want the Special?” She looked the question at me, and I think I nodded. Raisin bread French toast—would I even be able to eat?

The room seemed to slide in and out of focus as we negotiated our orders. I forgot about what I had decided and heard myself agree with Megan’s choices of scrambled and sausages. Sausages? Really?

Megan and I stared at each other as Phyllis hurried off.

Suddenly, Megan moved, getting up into the aisle and tugging on my arm. “Conference,” she half-whispered to me. I let her tow me along until I saw where she was going.

“I can’t go in there,” I protested, still trying to be quiet.

“You need to look in a mirror,” she said, pulling me into the ladies’ room behind her.

“We had mirrors at the motel,” I said. I hadn’t been into the ladies’ bathroom since I was small, and it didn’t seem like a good time to start doing it.

She shrugged. “I kind of noticed then but I don’t think you did.” She gestured at the glass above the sink.

I didn’t gasp--it wasn’t that dramatic. I stared at my face, though, realizing that something had changed. Again.

It took me a while to work out what it was. A little less chin, less nose, thinner eyebrows, more cheekbones, lower hairline, and just a softer look. More like a girl’s face…. Subtle changes that added up.

“You’ve always been a pretty boy, Pete. Now, you’re just… prettier.” Megan commented. “And uh, I think you’re taller, too.”

“Taller?” I noticed that my hair seemed a bit shaggier, too. I tried to gulp air as Megan measured the top of her head, which now seemed about even with the bridge of my nose. An inch or so lower than it had appeared for most of the last year. “Why would I get taller?” I asked. I hadn’t grown more than an inch since freshman year.

“How should I know?” Megan grumbled. “I think your neck’s smaller, too and your shoulders. Your jacket doesn’t fit like it used to.”

I pulled down on the jacket, noting that my shoulders did not quite reach the seams. Then I startled both of us with a sob.

She pulled me close, and I put my arms around her. We held each other while I got control of the urge to weep. “What if…?” But I didn’t know what question I wanted to ask her.

She answered anyway. “I don’t know, Petey. I don’t know.”

* * *

What I really wanted to do was just leave, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to be. Eating breakfast at Bebo’s was as good a place as any other, and oddly, I did feel hungry. Insane after what was happening, but I needed a bit of comfort food, I guess. And there’s nothing much more comforting than a good breakfast.

We made our way back to our table, holding hands. It seemed the thing to do.

Two guys, truckers from the look of them, sitting under the big windows near the front door, waved their coffee cups at us. One of them winked, but I had already passed through my shock at my new transformation. I didn’t glare at him, but I sure as heck didn’t wink back. I felt my face turn red just from thinking about that.

Phyllis had delivered coffee to our places, along with water glasses and the little two-ounce shot glasses Bebo’s served their whiskey syrup in. I had once asked what went into the syrup and had been told it was a proprietary recipe but involved bourbon, maple sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, water and a pinch of salt.

“No one will make it at home,” the cook had told me, “because it takes forever to boil it back down to syrup. And yes, the alcohol cooks out, but you can still taste the bourbon.” He was right, I suppose, though I had never tasted bourbon at the time.

Phyllis brought our food and put the bill down with it too, but the receipt was already marked paid. “Cooper and Stack, the guys by the door, paid for it,” she explained. “They think you two are the cutest things!” She looked at our expressions and quickly added, “Don’t worry, they’re harmless. If they tried anything, their wives would kill them—if I didn’t do them in first!”

My mouth hung open, and Phyllis hurried off, giggling. The men toasted us with their coffee cups again. Megan lifted a hand, telling me, “Wave at them.”

I started to lift my hand but put it back on the table.

“No,” Megan insisted. “You should let them know that what they did was nice.“

“They’re both older than my parents!” I said quietly. I don’t know if that really mattered, but it did creep me out a bit.

“You’re not going to date them or anything–just acknowledge that they did something for us.”

I lifted my hand and wiggled my fingers at the men, just as Megan was doing.

It felt incredibly girly. And Megan didn’t help by snerking on a flock of giggles.