The Second Trade

“Okay, so I need to make it so he can’t keep me from my date with Nancy,” Tim told himself. He stopped his hands from reaching down to pull at his dress to cover himself while he thought. No amount of tugging would change the fact that his sister was a few inches shorter than he, and her clothes would reflect that fact.

“And I don’t have all day, kiddo,” the old woman said, “I’ve got things to do and places to judge.”

“And it has to be equal to…” he faded out as he got lost in thought. “What about the house? He says that I have to obey him when I live under his roof. What if it was my roof?”

“That could work,” she wiggled her fingers and grunted, “no good. Your parent’s bank owns about half, and your dad only owns half of the remainder.”

“Damnit,” Tim wanted to pace. Pacing always felt good when he had a problem to work out. Pacing in wedge heels, though, was a bit beyond his skill set, “I just wish he couldn’t boss me around so much,” he paused, then snapped, “that’s it! How about his authority? Could I take that?”

“What a deliciously interesting idea!” The old woman’s fingers wiggled furiously, then she smiled from ear to ear, “that will work perfectly. Let me just give your dad your inability to own clothing…”

“Wait, what…”

The old woman ignored Tim, instead, she punched a fist forward, which briefly smoked, waved both hands over her head, then announced, "It is done! The trade is complete." Then that familiar metallic returned and the woman vanished, this time without saying anything.

Then the world returned to its regular flow of time. The changes were instant and obvious.

First, Tim’s dad was still in the hallway, but now he was wearing a green dress that Tim recognized as his mother’s, an older dress that she didn’t wear much anymore. Instead of walking away from Tim, he was standing in front of him, seeming to be staring at him expectantly.

Second, Tim’s clothes changed. Yes, he was still wearing panties, a sundress, and wedge heels, but now they all fit him perfectly. The hem of the dress now reached his knees, the shoes were no longer her tight, and the panties had room for Tim’s penis.

“But I thought you were going to help me with the washer,” Tim’s dad was whining.

“I have a date,” Tim said, frustrated and confused at the state of his clothes. Why hadn’t the trade given him his clothes back? And why was his dad in a dress, too?

“I know, but, I’ve been working on it and need help,” the older man continued, “I was hoping…”

“Look, I’ve got to go,” Tim said, “ask Tabby if you need a hand.”

Tim turned and walked out of the house, but not before he heard his dad shout up the stairs, “Taaaabby! Tim says you have to help me in the basement!”

He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. There, waiting in the car, wearing a big smile, was Nancy. His life was weird right then, but maybe it was about to get a bit better.