Bad News From Dad

You and mom slowly turned on to your street and pulled closer to your driveway. To both of your surprise your dad’s car was parked in his usual spot, but it was far too early for him to be finished with work. You both stared at each other quizzically before pulling in beside.

“What is dad doing home mom?” You asked.

“I have no idea. He shouldn’t be home for hours. I hope nothing has happened.”

Anxiously you and your mother unloaded the car. You noticed immediately how much weaker you felt in your new body. Obviously one of the side effects of switching genders meant giving up what little masculine strength you had. Luckily between the two of you, and with the small haul of groceries, both of you were able to drag what bags you had in on one trip.

As you strode in, your new breasts heaving from the strained effort, you set the groceries down on the grand by the front door. Your mother followed in shortly and did the same.

“Honey? Honey! Is everything alright? What are you doing back so soon?” Your mother asked, clearly nervous that something terrible had happened.

As you worked your way up to the kitchen, you found your father sat in the chair of the small dining table, his head in his hands, silently weeping.

“Honey what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Your mother frantically fussed.

“Dad is everything all right? What’s going on?” You questioned, equally as anxious.

“They fired me! They said my position was no longer needed and let me go. What are we going to do?” Your father wept.