There was no two ways about it. You'd definitely heard Dr. Kerry inform Randall that he was going to be a heterosexual female, that Randall could already feel his perspective start to shift a bit, and most importantly, that the donor body had been a sex addict. You didn't want to lie. As terrible as it seemed, there was a part of you that was overjoyed at the news. Maybe, just maybe, if Randall liked guys... And since you were a guy... Well, who knows what could happen? You could just as easily take the weight off his shoulders and let him know that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. However, when you looked into his eyes, those gorgeous baby blue eyes, you could see that he was pleading, hoping that you hadn't.
"N-n-no..." you stammered. "What did he have to say?" You smiled weakly.
You could see the relief wash over Randall's now delicate features. "Uh-nothing, Tim... um, only, uh, LOOK AT ALL THIS MONEY THEY ARE GIVING ME!" Your eyes locked on to the sizable check that Randall was brandishing.
"Holy shit, dude." Your jaw dropped.
"Looks like I'm gonna be rich. The doc said I'll be getting a check like this every month for the foreseeable future!" he clamored excitedly. "With this we won't have to miss out on the new fall gaming lineup."
He chattered on, making plans, listing off the new ways he could have fun unburdened from his dad and shrew of a step-mom. You were excited for him. You didn't want to bring him down. You had long ago decided that you weren't going to let Randall's appearance interfere with your friendship. But, without even making it out of the hospital, you were already immediately aware of the distance that existed between the two of you now. Even though he hadn't really accepted it, Randall was now an undeniably sexy woman. He was more than old enough to drink, to club. To top it off, Randall now had access to a ton of money. All of that amounted to a world you couldn't come close to touching as Tim Connors, 16 year old high school junior. With such a wide world available to him, you figured that it wouldn't be long until Randall left you behind...
You felt a hand on your shoulder.
"You okay, bud?"
"Huh? Why?" you asked, trying avoid his question.
"You look like someone just shot the family dog."
"What are you talking about, Randall? I'm cool. GREAT! Cool. Fine. Super!"
Randall coughed. "Um, super?" he asked, meticulously shaped eyebrow raised.
"I don't know, man. It's just a little overwhelming..."
"You're overwhelmed?!" he snapped. "Tim, look at me. One minute, we're in the car. Next thing I know, the doctors are waking me up and informing me that they successfully turned me into Franken-bimbo." Despite the setting and mood, the way Randall was standing there, hands on hips, was still unbelievably distracting.
"It's crazy. I get that," you said tersely. "Now that we're going to be leaving the hospital, things are gonna be different. This shit is real."
"Duh."
"Well, you have a new life to live," you said, mocking Dr. Kerry's voice. "Dude, you're coming out of here sexy and rich and who knows what else. I'm still just me. Going back to school. ALONE."
A twinkle in his eye, Randall sauntered up to you. "You really think I'm sexy?" he asked, softly. You were spellbound. His perfect body was inches from yours. You could feel your palms sweat and you started to get aroused. You gulped. "Does Timmy-wimmy have a crush on me?" That broke the spell.
"Fucking A! I'm being serious, Randall. I have to go back to school and pretend that my best friend is dead. I've got another two years of high school. What about all of our plans? Get cars? Get girls? Get in shape?" You let the words hang in the air for emphasis before continuing. "Newsflash, dude. You're hot. You're a girl. You could easily get a car if you don't already have one. Most importantly, when and why are we even going to hang out anymore?"
Randall was quiet and his eyes cast downward.
“I’m sorry, Tim… but there is nothing I can do about any of that. I wanted those things, too,” he said sullenly. “I’m still your best friend and dude, we’re going to be living together now,” he pleaded. Hearing the sincerity in his voice and being overwhelmed by hearing those words from a gorgeous woman was overwhelming.
“But… but…”
“What?” he asked snapping back to normal. “Did you think I was going to run off and start living this girl’s life?” He chuckled. “Newsflash, Timbo. Morgan Powell was a fucking stripper and god knows what else. No fucking thank you.” It was relieving and a little funny to hear him say that. He may be in a gorgeous girl’s body now, but he was still the same foul mouthed Randall. “Besides, you’re the only person who’s still treating me like… me. Maybe the doctors, but they don’t count. Your mom wants to show me all the ‘great ways to be girly’ and your brother can’t seem to peel his eyes off my rack. Your dad isn’t doing much better, but at least he’s trying. Tim, these people KNOW who I really am. Going forward, how do you think people are going to treat me? They’re just going to see me as some random big titted blonde.”
You hadn't really considered that.
He continued. “I don’t really have any family left to speak of, now that Dad doesn’t want anything to do with me. And your family is great and all, but ya know… Really, dude, you’re the only family I’ve got left. I’ve been worried you’d be too embarrassed by me to want to be my friend anymore.”
Now you felt like shit. Selfish to boot.
"I'm sorry, Randall," you said apologetically. "What made you think I wouldn't want to be your friend anymore? You know that's ridiculous."
"Is it? We don't really know anything about this girl. People might recognize her. What if they used to watch her dance?" He gulped. "What if she fucked them, Tim?"
You considered the possibility. More than anything, the thought of someone getting a chance to have their way with that luscious body made you jealous.
Before you let your mind wander too much at the idea, you said, "Doesn't matter. You weren't doing it. I know you don't want to deal with it, but it's your body now, dude. You aren't responsible for what happened before. Don't forget, you're my best friend. Doesn't matter what's going on, nothing is going to change that."
Randall was beaming at your sentiment. "Thanks, Tim. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get the fuck out of here. Get some food, maybe some decent clothes."
"Your clothes look pretty decent to me," you teased.
"Hardy har har. You're not the one that has to wear this shit. Not exactly keen putting myself on display. It's fucking uncomfortable to boot." Jerking his head toward the door, he said, "Come on."
Walking down the hospital corridor, the only thing more distracting than the clacking of the heels on Randall's feet and dramatic sashay of his backside was the amount of stares he was generating. Nurses, doctors, staff, and patients all seemed a bit star struck as he passed. Meanwhile, you could tell Randall was becoming rapidly more embarrassed, his new visage turning a bright shade of crimson.
"What's wrong, dear?" your mom asked him as you approached.
"Uh, nothing, Mrs. Connors," Randall said, trying to brush her off. However, your mother's curiosity would not be so quickly dismissed.
"Timothy?" she asked, her voice stern. You were desperately trying to maintain solidarity with your friend, but you knew when your mother got like this, she was like a rabid dog, determined to get her way.
"E-everyone was staring at Randall," you said. "I-i-it was pretty weird..."
Your mother shrugged. "And why shouldn't they? She is a beautiful young woman now." Randall cringed at her use of pronouns. "Remember, Tim. We can't be saying 'Randall' when we are out and about. Maybe "Morgan" or "Ms. Powell" perhaps..." she mused to herself.
"Do we really have to use 'her' name?" asked Randall. The venom in his voice was quite evident.
Your mother appeared thoughtful, ushering the two of you towards the front entrance. "Well, we need to call you something... How does 'Randi' sound? That seems like a fair compromise."
The look on Randall's face betrayed his annoyance, but he agreed. You weren't too keen on the idea yourself, but you knew your mother had a point.
The rest of the family was waiting for you in the van. During the ride home, the conversation was more than a little awkward. Despite knowing full well that it was Randall in a new body, it felt like you were riding in the car with an unfamiliar girl. You could see what he had mentioned earlier. Your father kept stealing glances at Randall in the rear view mirror. Meanwhile, David was practically drooling over him. Your mother and sister were trying to draw him into a world of makeup and cute outfits, paying little attention to the fact that Randall wasn't even remotely interested.
Arriving home, your mother announced, "Alright! Boys out!" Your father and brother piled out of the family van. As you followed suit, Randall moved out behind you. "Randi dear, where are you going?"
Randall looked confused.
"Come along. We're having a girls day and going to get you properly attired." You glanced back at your friend. He mouthed "help" at you as he reentered the van with a defeated look. You felt bad for him, but he had said he wanted some fresh clothes...
Later that afternoon, you were in your room trying to preoccupy yourself and forget about Randall's absence. There was a knock on the door. Randall enters...
© Copyright enigma (UN: fused36 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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