Explain (Or Try To)

Next thing you know, you’re sitting on Lucy’s bed as she stands over you, her arms crossed, trying your best to explain what happened. Not that there’s much to explain.

“…So I knew I had to see someone and, well, you seemed like you’d understand what I was going through as well as anyone… I mean, you’re already kind of a girl me, right?”

Lucy scoffs, one eyebrow raised. “Right. Keep telling yourself that.”

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes, hating how high your voice gets now at the end of words. “My point is… I don’t know. Do you think you can help.”

Lucy’s blue eyes roam over your body, lingering uncomfortably long on the swell of your breasts.

“I dunno. I’m no expert on body switching. No one is.”

“Right, so, you can help as much as anyone,” you reply, before adding a **** “Can’t you?”

Lucy purses her (plump, pink) lips. “I’ll try, I guess. But I don’t know where to start.”

“Look,” you say, rubbing your forehead with a sigh, already regretting your choice, “Maybe I can just borrow some clothes, okay? So I can blend in a little more, until this gets sorted.”

“You want to wear my clothes?” Lucy asks, her nose wrinkling in clear disgust, and you stand up suddenly, blood boiling.

“Fine, don’t help,” you say bitterly, moving towards the door. “I don’t need you anyway.”

You reach to the doorknob, about to risk your chances with Mom, when Lucy calls out-

“Wait.”

You turn to her, and she looks you up and down. Slowly, the corners of her mouth flick up into a small smile.

“Okay. You can borrow my clothes. But one condition.”