They hadn’t heard of a changeling like me before either, but they sat on the matching leather sofa as I spilled the story of yesterday out, right up to where I’d almost drowned in the tub (and hearing about that made May go pale as a ghost and grip Carl’s hand) to wake up as . . . this. Carl went upstairs and came back to confirm the drift of my lost facial and body hair now coating the bottom of the tub.

  Fascinated despite her bewildered shock, May couldn’t stop herself from getting up and coming over to stroke my smooth chin. It made me shiver.

  She shivered, too. “This is just— You do still have facial hair, it’s just vellus hair now.”

  “Vellus hair?”

  She sat back down, letting Carl take her hand. “Peach fuzz,” she clarified. “The superfine hairs that grow all over your face and body when you’re younger. For guys it turns into the beard at puberty and on both men and women it turns into crotch and armpit hair.”

  “And thicker arm and leg hair,” Carl added. “And chest and back hair.”

  “For guys,” May nodded, still shaken.

  “I don’t have any adult hair anywhere.” I hadn’t thought to check my pits, but my pubic hair had vanished with my dick and balls.

  She frowned. “But you have breasts, you’re at least pubescent. You should have some hair down there.”

  “I . . .” My face was on fire and why was that? These were my friends, I was an adult, and May had already demonstrated how physically clinical she could be with her running description of female things during her pregnancy and after. It was like she had no filter about anything.

  “Hmm.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “Lift your shirt. Carl, close your eyes.”

  “What?” That was both of us, him with a manly tenor protest, me with a high squeak again.

  “Close your eyes. David’s a girl now—” May choked on that a bit but rallied, seeming almost as freaked out by the break in my voice as I was. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for you to look.”

  He knew that tone and closed them.

  “Alright sweetie,” she said gently. “I just need you to lift your shirt.”

  “I—” I gulped, flushing hotter but forcing down the weird feeling of just wanting to curl up and hide. Getting a grip on the hem of my t-shirt, I gathered the loose material up at my waist and with a deep breath pulled it up to my chin. Giving me an encouraging smile May dropped her gaze.

  “Well,” she said after a moment, sitting back. “I’m no doctor but I’d say you’re Tanner Stage Five. They’re fully rounded but may still grow a little, I’d guess you look like I did at seventeen or eighteen? I didn’t develop fast either.”

  “Or much,” Carl said beside her, eyes still closed.

  She swatted his shoulder. “Hey! Respect the Bs. They’re enough to feed your child.”

  He held up his hands. “And they’re fun, too. Can I open my eyes now?”

  I yanked my shirt back down. “Sure.”

  “Thank God. This is just so weird.”

  “You think?” I laughed and it was a sob—a sound so not me that panic rose to close my throat.

  May was up and across the room to me like a shot, pushing me sideways on the chair with her hip to sit and wrap an arm around my shoulders as I fought to reign it in.

  Don’t cry. Tears do nothing but burn your eyes. But my shift on the chair had drawn my attention down there again, to the feeling of nothing between my legs, and I shuddered. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you,” May whispered into my tangled hair, rubbing my back. Leaning against her shoulder I counted breaths to stave off the panic attack, eyes shut until I could control myself.

  “Alright,” Carl said after a minute. “What do you want to do?”

  “Wake up and have it all be a dream?” I laughed damply.

  “Me, too. But seriously. We can take you to someone? Maybe they can fix this?”

  “No,” came out without thinking. “No.” Straightening, I took a deep breath and squarely faced the thought that had been screaming at the back of my head since I’d realized what must have happened.

  There was no fixing this. A few changelings, impelled by religious motives, had tried to reverse their changes. No drugs suppressed their new abilities, no treatment short of excising the new node in their brains had any result—and brain surgery was out of the question. With how integrated the new node was the result would likely be brain death, severe impairment at least. And none of the changed had ever exhibited further changes, either. What they were, they were. “It’s unfixable. You know that.”

  “So . . . what? You can’t hide this, at the very least you no longer match your driver’s license. We need to tell somebody.”

  I shivered again and it wasn’t from a fever chill. My stomach knotted and I wanted to be sick. May rubbed my arm, pulling me close again. “Or we can put a pin in that,” she offered.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “What?” This time it was just Carl; I wasn’t sure I could say anything around the knot in my throat. Get a grip!

  “We can put a pin in it. David’s retired, he—she—doesn’t need to be anywhere and it’s Sunday so neither do we. If this is permanent then there’s no rush, is there?” She actually smiled. A cracked smile, but a smile. “There’s one thing in all of this I’m grateful for.”

  “What’s that?” I was still shaky but I’d found my voice.

  “Think about your heart, David. If your transformation has thrust you back into physical adolescence, then your heart is adolescent too. And your surgery scars are gone, that means complete physical regeneration—no twenty percent reduction in heart capacity from your attack. No lasting damage.”

  “Oh my God. Oh my God.” Lightheaded again, I felt like I was floating. She was right. With everything that had happened, this had to be a complete physical reset. No damage to my heart and arteries from my attack and from decades of obesity and high blood pressure, no ticking time bomb I could only delay but never disarm.

  After my surgery my doctor had told me that if I took the weight off and kept it off, if I ate right and exercised fanatically, if I did everything I’d done, I might live another decade without a transplant—and my rare blood factors had made a transplant unlikely—but I probably wouldn’t see seventy. He’d been of the opinion that, even with my new diet and exercise regimen and the medication I was taking, I was three to five years out from my next attack. I could look forward to a series of attacks, each taking away more of my heart capacity until I had an attack I just wouldn’t get up from.

  But now, now I had no idea how long I had. Every wasted year was gone and I was closer to the starting gate of my life than its finish line. And with that realization the tears came, with deep, painful sobs.

  ********************************

  The crazy mix of fear and relief made me dizzy but May just tucked me into her side, my head beneath her chin, and held me like a child with a murmured “I’m so, so sorry, David,” as I cried. I hated it, and I hadn’t felt so free in over a year, hadn’t realized the weight I’d been carrying until it was so suddenly gone.

  I’d been fighting for every day I knew I’d robbed myself of. Both my parents had lived well into their seventies—Father into his eighties—absurdly robust until the end when cancer took my mother and my father stroked out just two years later. I knew I’d inherited decent genes and their having me later in their lives hadn’t harmed my development any, but I’d been the opposite of an athletic kid, overweight by the time I was in my teens and after their deaths I’d really let myself go. Only my heart attack had shocked me into starting to really take care of myself. I’d sold the family business and retired early to turn my whole focus on my health, but the damage was done.

  And now it was all undone, the ticking timebomb in my chest defused, but I didn’t know what the next minute held and it all swirled together as I tried to throttle my gulping sobs while May stroked my hair.

  At some point in my breakdown Carl disappeared and by the time I was paying attention to much of anything again he was back to set a glass of orange juice and a roast beef sandwich on the coffee table. My stomach rumbled and I pulled away from May, wiping my eyes. “Thanks, guys,” I said. Nobody commented on how I’d suddenly become a dripping mess after stiff-upper-lipping through everything last year. I’d barely even done counseling with my physical therapy, and only because May had pushed me to it.

  “No problem.” Carl winked. “She held me when the Giants lost to the Cowboys. It was an emotional time.”

  Rolling her eyes May abandoned the chair, pushing the plate towards me. “Eat. You’ll feel better and then we’ll talk some more. We’re going to check on Steph.” Grabbing Carl’s hand, she pulled him after her out of the room and out the door.

  Which meant now they needed to talk; they could have checked on little Stephanie with their baby cam and wrist monitor phone app.

  And I didn’t blame them. They were a team, the best team. They needed to huddle up and decide on the next play, whatever it was. And the sandwich was good, lots of mustard and mayo (I hadn’t stopped eating the good stuff, just severely cut back on serving sizes and eating times). I bit and chewed and tried not to think. I did notice the sandwich felt thicker; my mouth and hands were smaller. All of me was smaller. I’d felt so tiny, barely even there, tucked into May, and she was a petite woman. Really, how many inches did I have now? The next time I stepped on the scales was going to be interesting; I was pretty sure I’d lost half my remaining body weight. At least.

  I can’t do this.

  And that was a stupid thought. I had to do it, though whatever it was I had no idea. Not ridiculously break down again, yeah. I could not do that. I’m past the initial diagnosis. I can handle it. I’m a— I’m a— Dammit, I couldn’t even think it. I’m a girl! As caught-in-a-nightmare as I felt, I was a girl now, a girl with a healthy heart. I was going to be a woman.

  Like May. My hand dropped down to my stomach. There wasn’t nothing between my legs, now. I hadn’t dared even think about it but there was almost certainly a vagina tucked up in me now, and deep inside a uterus, a baby factory, a womb.

  I could have a little Stephanie growing inside me someday.

  My stomach rebelled and I felt light-headed again but, waiting until I was sure it would stay down, I forced myself to finish the sandwich and drink the orange juice. I was just taking the last bite, back to not thinking, when they came back.

  They sat down on the couch, glued together and holding hands above their touching knees. I’d seen that mutually reinforcing pose before after I’d gotten back from the hospital last year. They’d sat right there, May very pregnant, and told me in no uncertain terms that they were there to do whatever needed to be done to help me get through my recovery.

  “We understand why you want to keep this secret,” Carl opened, clearing his throat. “Last year a crazy telekinetic changeling tried to kill the President with his mind. Just last week someone shot a celebrity changeling on their doorstep. We know most of them aren’t celebrities, some of the outed ones even change their names to hide in new lives. I can’t help looking at Steph and planning out what I’d do if she ever changed and it got out. Moving us to Tahiti is right up there on the list.

  “Well, you can move to Tahiti. Or Alaska. Or wherever you want to go, you’ve got the money. Or you could, but right now that will be kind of tough, yeah? The first time you need to present a picture ID for anything you’ll be screwed. And you can’t stay here and just order everything online forever. You can’t become another Mrs. Thompson.”

  “Watch me.” I flinched at my high voice, but with Amazon and doorstep grocery delivery I could survive just fine and never set foot beyond my front porch again. I could go over to their place on movie nights through our joined backyards.

  He held up his unclaimed hand. “Alright, not can’t. You’re stubborn, you can do anything you put your heart into. You’ve demonstrated that this whole last year. So, shouldn’t. It’s no way to live.”

  “Then what do you think I should do?”

  “We think you should come live with us,” May jumped in. “We’ve got the two third floor bedrooms still full of nothing but boxes, we can clear one out and it’s yours. With your hair and height you look like you could be related to me now, we can say you’re a younger cousin, build you a new identity around that. You can pass as a small eighteen, do you think you can survive going back to school?”

  I opened my mouth and had no words.