I Enact The First Step of my Plan

When I returned from the pharmacy the next morning, Quentin had already left to play board games at his friend Ricky’s house. It was a Saturday tradition for them, all the more important since they’d both be off at college this time next year.

I waited a good twenty minutes to make sure he wouldn’t come back, having forgotten his chessboard or something, then I went to the bathroom and opened the bottle of X-Change.

I’d failed my son. As soon as I’d calmed down from my humiliation, the million things I should have said flooded into my brain. All I needed was a second chance. And if I had to pretend to be Oliver’s mother to get it, so be it.

I swallowed a pill.

Nothing happened for a long time. I scanned my pudgy face in the mirror for a hint of any change. I turned the bottle over in my hands: it was FDA approved, I’d seen the commercials, heard the testimonials. It was real, right?

As that thought crossed my mind, I felt the muscle and fat beneath my skin writhe. My body covered itself in a sheen of sweat. I tore off my clothes, feeling stupid for not having done so earlier.

It seemed every part of me was on a road trip.

My hair sallied forth into the great unknown and tripled in length. The blonde locks fell to my shoulders.

The fat of my cheeks traveled to my chest, and my nipples hardened. My belly weight split up; half headed for my undeveloped breasts, and the other half went straight to my ass. I grunted, shifting my footing to accommodate my new proportions.

Finally, my two inch penis folded in on itself. Just as quickly as it disappeared, the skin between my legs parted to become a vulva.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. More than turning me into a woman, the pill had turned me into a whole new person. No one would believe that this forty-something blonde had spent most of her life cooped up in basements, playing computer games.

Maybe, in this form, I would have the confidence to stand up for my son.

I fondled my boobs, the first pair I’d touched in over five years. I gave my butt an experimental smack. The ripple enchanted me.

“Right,” I coughed. I decided not to go near my lower lady bits. I had more important things to do.

I scavenged my closet for something wearable. It was humbling to realize just how many graphic tees I owned, but eventually I found a pair of jeans that wasn’t too snug and an oversized Mrs. Pac-Man shirt that could contain my massive breasts.

I looked myself over in the mirror and confirmed, yes, I was completely unrecognizable. Step one was complete. On with the show.