Nothing that works

You try everything. Explaining, pleading, crying - but nothing you say can erase the huge mistake you've made. You didn't just lie to your girlfriend, you set yourself up and helped that bitch on the phone drive the wedge between you and Trish. You knew everything you were doing was wrong and now you find that guilt coloring every apology you try to make. After an hour or so all Trish will say to you is "Get out. Just get out!". With your eyes and your throat raw from sobbing you start to pack your things.

Your arms and legs feel like lead as you collect your few possessions and get ready to head out into an unfriendly world. The last you hear from the bathroom are the heart wrenching sobs of your now former lover. The woman who surely believes you lied to her and convinced her that first child was hers. In a stupor you trudge off the campus and get on a bus. You don't even have a plan.

Riding around for a while was supposed to give you time to think, but no such luck. Your whole life came crashing down and you don't know how to pick up the pieces. Even getting a new place to stay will be hard. Sure, a hotel would work for a bit, but you'll run out of money soon enough. Plus you have to worry about food now. 'God - what have I done?' is the thought that crowds out all others.

Finally, on your third tour around town you look up and catch a glimpse of your reflection. You look horrific. A big part of you asks 'What difference does it make?' but you've become too feminine after so many months to think like that. At the next stop you get off to seek out a bathroom. The little corner restaurant you find nets you a clean, private bathroom where you can make yourself presentable as well as a small dinner. You barely feel like eating, but you know that you've got to eat for the babies, no matter what.

You walk outside, shivering in the crisp night air. You're just wondering what to do when you see the bus drive by. Marvelous. A half hour wait in this weather? No, you don't need to catch a cold too. So it is that you start walking up the street toward another bus stop, aiming to get to a route that can take you closer to downtown. It's almost nice - trudging along, concentrating on one step in front of the other, not thinking about anything else.

After a few blocks your body reminds you that pregnant girls have to think about some things. "Stupid tiny bladder," you mumble to yourself. In a way it's a blessing. Thinking about peeing yourself is still way less painful than thinking about other things. You start looking for another place with a bathroom that's still open.

Another block goes by. All of a sudden you realize that you recognize this neighborhood. You've been to this street corner once before. Just to the left there's a slightly run down strip mall. The place... the place where it all started to go wrong. You lean against a lamppost and shudder. There aren't any tears left to cry, but you relive that first night - getting a cast of your pussy, speed dating a bunch of guys. 'What the fuck was I thinking? How the hell did I think she wouldn't turn it all against me? Why in God's name didn't I tell Triiiiissshhhh!'

Once the dry sobs have subsided you get another insistent throb from your bladder. 'Damn it!' Well... Henry, was it? Yes, Henry wasn't a bad guy. And he did have a bathroom. It's not like going into a porn shop is going to ruin you sterling reputation.

A quick march later and you enter "Toys for All (Over 18)" for the second time in your life. The happy sounding little bell that announces you couldn't be further from your mood. Henry looks up from whatever he's working on and asks, "Need any help?"

"Uh, I just need to use the washroom first."

"Ok, sure thing," he says. You see a hint of recognition cross his face as you race past. You almost make it to the washroom, almost - but then you see it. Nearer the back of the store, posed in all it's glory as a centerpiece. The Dragonette. It has slit amber eyes and a scaly, yet still feminine and sexy face sitting atop your figure. It has your curves, your lovely, precious curves. You don't even have those anymore - your pregnant belly is ruining them more every day. Almost driven to tears again you hide in the bathroom, thanking every power in the universe for this one single locked door.