I succeed in winning the plushie on my first try...

I follow the posted photo and the instructions drawn on it. I position the claw with precise tap-and-holds of the respective buttons. Once it's where I want it to be, it descends. The tip of the claw's single finger grazes the end of the plushie but doesn't stop like Carter's last attempt. When the maximum depth is reach, the claw ascends and catches the tail of the dog, pulling it up and out of its mount. The claw stops at its maximum height and moves over to above the bin below. The claw opens and the weight of the toy slides down the finger, allowing the plushie to drop into the bin.

“I got it!” I exclaim, opening the door and digging inside for my prize.

“What the fu--” Carter protests. He has the gall to reach for the dog and pull it from my hands.

As if we are siblings, I protest his move, calling out, “Hey, that's mine!” He reaches up high, keeping the dog just out of reach. I suddenly realize how tall he is compared to me. If I was in my original body, I'd be able to reach up to height the dog is at easily. Now that I'm a girl, the difference makes it all the more difficult. He finally relents and I'm able to pull the plushie from his hands.

He congratulates me as I treat the plushie as if it was a real dog, petting it excessively. “Nice job. How did you do that first try?” he asks.

While hugging the soft toy to my face, I tell him, “Practice mostly. Plus, I used to work at one of these before working at the hot dog place.”

“Hmm. All this winning's got me hungry. You hungry at all? It'll be my treat,” he says.

“Sure,” I reply, toy dog in my arms, clutched tightly to my stomach.

There is no line at the food counter. He orders corn dogs and fries with two drinks and once we get our food, he brings it to a booth. He opts to sit next to me when I slide into a chair. “So why didn't you stay at your arcade job?” he asks in the middle of eating.

I take a sip of my soda to cleanse any little morsels of food in my mouth. I answer, “Mostly because of my boss. He was too demanding of me. Kept trying to give me overtime when I didn't need any.”

He nods in acknowledgment and goes back to eating. I take a big bite of my corn dog and catch him staring at me through the corner of my eye. I try to make sure the food is not caught lodged in my mouth for a too long, as I figure it looks like a cock in my mouth. It's a typical thing a guy would think. I would know, as I wonder what it actually looks like through Carter's eyes.

We finish eating and he opts to throw away the trash. He returns to the table and we chill there for a good while. I take this opportunity to finally ask, “So how did you do it?”

“Do what?” he asks, sipping at his half-full drink.

“Change me from a man into a woman?” I ask, clarifying the question.

Carter scoffs and from his jacket pocket, he produces a transparent pill container. Inside it are a number of pink pills. “These are X-Change pills. Back at the house, I spiked your beer with one,” he says, chuckling.

“Figures,” I comment. “And how long does it last?”

“These are Pink Basics. They last for 24 hours,” he says and puts the pills away. “That means you'll change back next evening.”

Looking like I've been defeated, I slump forward, my face sideways against the table. “That's so far away. What am supposed to do until then?” I protest.

“I don't know,” he says.

I sit up and push hard on Carter's shoulder. It's obvious he doesn't go anywhere, as I do not have the strength I had as a guy. “Why did you do it then?” I ask.

“I thought you might need a different perspective. And I wanted to see if you were a real man or just a pussy,” he explains, being awfully blunt.

“Different perspective, my ass!” I comment. “I'd believe you more if you said you wanted to fuck me.”

He takes offense to this and it's visible on his face. Any ounce of having fun disappears from his features as he leaves the booth, throwing a cup that still had soda in it in the trash. He heads for the door and never in his small trip to the exit does he look back at me. Something pangs within me, but I don't know if it's me being offended or guilt hitting me, but I take it as a sign that he would definitely leave me alone here with no way to get home. I grab my dog plushie and run after him. I come out of the exit and spot him at the car. I dash for the passenger side door when he has the driver's side door already open. I pull at the handle, but find it doesn't open the door.

“Wait, wait, don't leave me here,” I plead with him.

“I could and I most likely will. With words like that, you could ask one of the other guys in there for a ride. They'd probably do it for you, but for a price,” he argues.

Quickly weighing that scenario, I quickly round the car and continue to plead, unaware that my frantic voice kind of sounds like I'm whining. “No, no, I don't want to do that.” I hesitate in my decision to apologize, inserting a slight pause before it eventually comes out. “Alright! I'm sorry for saying that to you, Carter. It was totally insensitive. I-I-I'll make it up to you. I-I-I'll do anything.” I embrace him from behind, preventing him from getting into the car.

He sighs after a while. “Alright, alright. Calm down, little girl,” he says, pulling on my hands that locked an embrace around him like a crying belt. He chuckles and brings up, “Are you sure you want to say that you'll do anything?” I bite my lip, my mind slowly coming to the shocking realization of what implications could be drawn from such a phrase. He turns around to see my uneasy face. He places a hand on my head, rubbing it and again messing up my hair, though my appearance is not a priority at the moment. “Some advice, be careful of what you say, especially in a body like that. Some guys may take you seriously and literally. It's an opportunity that they'll most likely take advantage of. Got me?” I nod sheepishly. “Now, you can easily make it up to me by just hanging out?”

“Hanging out?” I ask. “That's it?”

“Just get in,” he says, unlocking the rest of the doors. I quickly round the car and get into the passenger seat. I find the handcuffs in the cup holder and pick them up, feeling how heavy they are. I hand them to Carter, who looks at them confused. “Did you want to be handcuffed? I only put them on to keep you from panicking and clawing at me while I was driving. Just put them in the glove box.”

I do as he says, stashing the cuffs and closing the glove box. I put on my seat belt and we are back on the road. I can say that once we are back on the highway, it seems we are driving farther and farther from his sister's house and thus, far away from where I live. I don't think he has an intention of ever bringing me home. Then I think about it. Me at home in this body? That is just a start to a whole new series of problems, I believe. I don't even want to start imagining the dilemma I would have to go through in simply explaining things to my parents.

“So... what are you thinking over there?” Carter asks as he turns onto a road with signs that signal that there is an incline up ahead and windy roads for the next 20 miles.

“Nothing, really,” I lie.

“Nothing? Now that's a big fat lie. When I first took an X-Change pill, my mind was fucking racing--” he starts to say and out of coincidence, a pair of headlights appear from around the bend up ahead and a sports car barrels down the hill, passing us with such ferocity. When it disappears behind us, he continues. “--kinda like that.”

“So, you were turned into a girl?” I ask, interested in his potential answer.

“Of course, I turned into a girl. And a real hot one, too,” he answers. “It started as a bet within my small group of Air **** friends, betting on sports, of course. Whoever had the worst result would have to take an X-Change pill and have sex with the guys. I'm glad I wasn't the first, but eventually I became that guy who turned into a girl and had to submit to the boys. Over time, all of us had a turn as the girl, and with practice, we came to enjoy it. It became our little secret pastime, just something to blow off some steam when we were not overseas representing our country.”

The windy road ultimately came up to a summit, where there was a lot full of sports cars, like a little car meet. He found a spot and backed his car up into it. Once the car was off, he got out and I followed suit.

With there being a slight breeze, I instinctively rub my hands on my forearms, trying to keep myself warm. One glance at him causes Carter to go to his trunk and fetch a hoodie, which he hands to me. “Those are my sister's clothes, if you were wondering. The hoodie is obviously mine,” he mentions. The hoodie is essentially a thicker sort of dress, as it completely covers my body, with only an inch of the skirt and the frayed hem of it peeking from the bottom edge of the hoodie. It does its job and keeps me from freezing in the wind. It doesn't help to warm my legs, though.

“Is Caitlyn okay with you taking her stuff?” I ask, but he doesn't get to answer as he leaves my side to approach a man walking up to him.