Drive Home

"I told you to be careful" Brendan mutters for what had to be the 10th time that night. Amy drove in silence, eyes locked on the road. Every now and then she would hazard a glance down to his lap, where the gun lay, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze yet. In the dim light of the cars interior lighting, Brendan turned the gun this way and that, hoping to reveal some secret compartment, latch, or screw that might show how to get to the inner mechanisms. All he could find so far was a curious bolt, with a hollow center on the bottom of the grip, but it didn't look like any screw head he recognized. He growled, which sounded far too sensual and cute for his liking, and shook the gun. He started to punch the little rewind button again and again.

"E-Easy!" Amy stammered.

"It can't get any more broken!" He shouts, throwing his hands up.

"Y-yeah, but maybe it's just something small that will be easy to fix. You don't want to make it worse."

Brendan only half listens as she speaks, instead stretching forward to reach the passenger side visor of Amy's sedan. It was further away than usual, and he actually had to stretch for it, like he was some sort of kid. Aiming the visors mirror back at his face, he bore his teeth and stared. He started picking at a bracket adhered to his teeth. The bands were a vibrant teal color, and his whole mouth, which had already started to ache in the gums, felt foreign to him, for obvious reasons. To his chagrin, he noted that Amy had gotten her wish, and he now had sizable incisors, just like a damn bunny.

"How are we going to change my teeth back?" Brendan asks. "I might have a mouth guard from highschool wrestling, but is that really a fix?"

"Not to mention the girl you traded with."

"She'll be fine." Brendan states curtly. "Probably freaked out, but at least she doesn't have to wear braces ever again." He huffs, and crosses his arms. Glancing up at the mirror he realizes that even this gesture of annoyance is cute in his current body.

Neither he, nor Amy want to breach the unspoken possibility that lurks in the back of both of their minds. Would ANYTHING change back, now that the gun was broken? "If the ray gun is broken in anyway, the reality will be locked as is. Be careful and have fun." The rule from the instructions cycles through Brendans mind for the entire car trip home. Did that rule apply to his unique case too? He had kicked off the platform heels, and slipped into the flats before leaving the mall, but otherwise he was secretly too scared to try anything else. Still, that fear had to be confronted, and soon he and Amy stood, hearts pounding and praying, in the living room of his apartment.

Breathlessly, Brendan slips out of the black cropped jacket and half mesh shirt. The sports bra is next freeing his modest, but perky bust. His breasts wobble, as he tosses one of his button up shirts from work around his shoulders, and slips an arm into each sleeve. Nothing happens. Fingers trembling, he starts to fasten each button starting at the bottom. It becomes harder with each one, both because of his fear, and his trembling fingers. Amy steps forward and fits the last few in place for him. The sleeves hang comically past his hands, and the neck is large enough to keep falling off one of his shoulders. As they stand there in a tense silence, again, nothing happens.

he tugs his braid out from underneath the collar of his shirt, as if that small act might catalyze the change at last, but it changes nothing. Brendan stands there arms held out looking down at his new body, and lets out a strangled huff. Amy just looks on, hands clasped under her chin, brow knitted in concern.

What started out as a night of playful potential had closed in on him very suddenly. His thoughts went from wandering the realm of endless potential to being grounded in the very imminently present. The body that felt sexy became restrictive. The ears and tail that were cute, were now absurd. He shakes his head, sending his ears bobbing, and rubs his eyes.

"What?" He mutters, in disbelief.

Amy immediately takes a knee in front of him, and takes his hands in hers. She's still almost at eye level, even kneeling. He just had to wear his small cute body clothes to the mall, didn't he?

"We'll get this figured out!" She insists. "I promise I'll help you get this figured out." She hugs him, and holds him tight then breaks away, and meets his eyes. "We're not done yet! We'll figure out how to open the gun... And we'll... We'll get in touch with Chuck, the guy who sent you the gun."

"What about work." Brendan asks numbly.

"Call in sick. Just for the next week, Just long enough for us to fix this."

"And if we can't?" He asks, holding up a hand that suddenly seems very small to his eyes.

She opens her mouth to speak, and offer an encouraging word, but instead just wraps him in a hug again, whispering, "I am so sorry. I never should have brought the gun to the mall." At last, he returns her embrace.