(Author’s note: This story takes place one week after the non-epilogue portion of The Week That Changed Me: Part 9)

“Dude, you still haven’t told me about your hot lesbian cousin,” I beg as Quinn and I watch hockey.

I know, I know, it’s not cool to talk about “hot lesbians”, or to bug someone about their relatives that you find attractive. But Quinn’s been oddly elusive ever since his cousin first threw drinks on me and herself on a failed date at the restaurant where I work, and I want details.

I’m not going to say that’s why I invited him over for hockey – it’s because our other friends are watching college football championship games, and given that State had a disaster of a season with a 4-8 record after firing a coach for sexual harassment, I wasn’t interested – but it’s a good opportunity to take advantage of.

Quinn throws his hands up in frustration. I’m not sure if it’s because of the cousin comment or because the Wings’ defense is kind of shit this year. “Look, I’m not telling you about my cousin, her physical attractiveness, or her sex life. It’s just not a topic I’m comfortable discussing with you.” He grabs another piece of pizza between matches.

“Fine, dude, you don’t have to be a bitch about it.” I know I shouldn’t use gendered insults, either, but does it really matter if it’s just between us guys?

Quinn rolls his eyes. “Why did I agree to come over here again?”

“One, because you feel bad for me that State had such a shitty year that I don’t even want to do the last Football Saturday this year. Two, because the girl you’ve spent like all your time with the past week is working, and you don’t want to creep on her at her job, even if that job is at your second home.”

Quinn laughs. “Still, man, you gotta cut out treating women like objects. You know they don’t appreciate it.” He finished his piece of pizza and grabbed some wings.

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “This new girl have you reading feminist stuff? You’re not wrong, but I’ve never heard you be this emphatic about it.”

“No more than I already was. I’m just getting comfortable enough being uncomfortable with it to say something.”

“That’s cool. I appreciate it. Just keep reminding me so I can… Hey, can you leave some of that for me?”

“What?” Quinn looks puzzled as he goes in for his fourth slice of pizza in like ten minutes. His face drops and his voice goes quiet. “Oh, shit, man, I’m sorry this is going to go down like this.”

Quinn’s been a little weird the last couple weeks, but I’m genuinely confused here. “Dude? It’s cool. Just… grab some veggies or something and leave the pie.”

Quinn takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. “Okay, there’s something you need to know. This wasn’t supposed to be how you found this out – I thought I had a day or two before this happened again – but I promise I was going to tell you soon.” He takes off his shirt. He sits back on the chair and closes his eyes, as though he’s meditating.

“Quinn, with all brotherly love, what the fuck are you doing right now?”

Quinn’s right eye twitches slightly, and he scratches his waist a little. Then, slowly, his nipples get wider. I stare, transfixed, as his areolas darken. I think, but can’t be sure, that his waist narrows slightly, or his hips widen. But what I can be sure about is that, as his breath quickens, he is slowly growing breasts.

I start to ask a question, but he – they? she? – raises a hand to stop me. As their breasts stop growing, they open their eyes, take a deep breath in, and let out an exasperated moan in a high feminine voice. They put their shirt back on. “You have no idea how much that itches.”

My mouth drops open. The face, the voice – I’m talking to Quinn’s hot lesbian cousin that spilled drinks on me at work. She looks at my expression and smiles sympathetically. “Yeah, I know it’s weird. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Can you wait until I grab some stuff from my car and change?” I nod, and watch as she walks out to Quinn’s car. She has a slight sway to her hips, but apart from that, the voice, and the breasts, she looks almost exactly like the man who’s been my friend since college.

When the woman comes back inside, she brings a gym bag with her and is on her phone. She asks to borrow my bedroom to change – apparently letting me see her breasts was a proof, not an invitation. I hear her say to whoever she’s speaking to, “Yeah, it’s earlier than I expected, or I wouldn’t have come over here in the first place. No, I’m not really ready, but we’re here now. No, I can handle it myself, but I love you for offering.” When she comes out, she’s still wearing Quinn’s Red Wings jersey, but she’s put on tight jeans and low-heeled women’s sandals; I can see the outline of a bra under the shirt. She’s attractive even without the makeup I saw her in at the restaurant, and she seems more comfortable in my presence than she did then.

She turns the chair toward me, sits, and offers out her hand. “Hi, Chuck, I’m girl-Quinn. I just got off the phone with my girlfriend Celia – she’s the one you saw me on the date with – and she says to welcome you to the circle of trust.”

“Uh… hi, girl-Quinn, I’m Chuck.” I shake her hand. I’m still staring. She stares back. Her eyes probably technically don’t look any different than boy-Quinns, but they’re beautiful on her. Does that make me a little bisexual or gay?

After a minute, girl-Quinn waves her hand in front of my face. I guess I was staring a little. Maybe a lot. She asks, “Okay, do you want to ask questions or watch hockey?”

The buzzer to end the second period sounds. “Looks like I have twenty minutes to ask questions. What is going on here?”

As Ken Daniels and Mickey Redmond talk about the Wings’ play (or lack thereof), Quinn and I tune them out and talk. She tells me about waking up two weeks ago in an unfamiliar body and meeting Celia. I get the impression that she leaves out some details that aren’t meant for male ears, or maybe just my ears. Then she opens the floor for other questions.

“So… are you transgender, then?”

“It’s complicated. I’m a woman when I’m a woman, and I’m a man when I’m a man. That’s why I changed – I don’t feel comfortable in boy clothes when I have boobs and a vagina anymore.”

“Can I… touch them?”

The look Quinn gives me tells me clearly that this was the wrong question. “No, Chuck. Besides, it’s not like they’d feel any different than any other boobs, and you’ve touched boobs before, right?”

I’d be offended by the question if she hadn’t physically been in the room when I had – we had some wild parties in college. “Celia knows about this and is okay with it?”

“Hell, sometimes I think she likes it.”

“I heard a little of your phone conversation – if you weren’t ready to tell me, why did you come over here and risk me finding out?”

Quinn lets out a frustrated sigh in her higher, definitely-not-sexy-I-don’t-know-why-my-body’s-telling-me-it-is voice. “The timing between changes hasn’t been consistent, but I’d never spent less than two days with a penis. I figured that having shifted last night, I’d be in a good position to be male at least until tomorrow evening.”

Oof. “That must suck, not knowing what shape you’re going to be from day to day.”

She leans back in the chair and crosses her legs. “You know, I don’t really mind for me? Celia likes me in both bodies, and I’ve started a new job working for Doreen, who knows and doesn’t care. The fuck of it is the stress of coming out, being authentically and fully me with people and institutions that expect me or want me to only be one way or the other.”

“Are you expecting people to get homophobic on you?”

“Yeah, among other things, like try to get me donated to science.”

“Eh, fuck ‘em – figuratively only, of course. Nobody’s going to ET you if I have anything to say about it, and anyone who gets homophobic on you can hit the road as far as I’m concerned. How many people already know?”

“Celia, Doreen, and now you. The circle of trust is still quite small. Honestly, other than you, I’m not certain who of our friends I can trust, although Doreen has some suggestions.”

“Damn, dude…ette, that must be really isolating. Are you talking to anyone about it?”

“What, you mean like therapy? What do I say, ‘hey I’m a guy who now sometimes turns into a girl, and I don’t know why it started but I don’t really want it to stop?’ I’d get laughed out of the room.”

“Would you, though? I mean, there’s all kinds of gender and sexuality spectrum stuff out there now. Nonbinary, fluid, demi… there have to be therapists experienced with that stuff for whom this is just another layer. Maybe there’s even a thing where people switch between binary genders, I don’t know.”

Quinn looks at me with astonishment. “I’ve gotta say, I thought I could trust you with this, but I didn’t expect you to be helpful.”

I shrug. “People – including apparently you – misread me because I sometimes objectify women. I’m prejudiced, and I’m sexist, but I’m not a bigot, man. The text where I asked you about… well, you... calling you a manic pixie dream girl was 100% out of line. It’s a part of me that I’m not proud of and am trying to change, but it’s not like that happens overnight after 30 years of living in that culture, participating in it, and encouraging it.”

“Yeah, okay, wow. This is making me think of all this differently, and this is not how Doreen expected this would go – apart from you asking to molest me.”

My face goes red with embarrassment for a couple reasons. “Yeah, Doreen told me off pretty well after I made a lewd comment about a date she went on. She thinks she scared me, but the reality is she was right, and I’m trying not to step in it again.”

“What do you think of telling other people?”

“I don’t think you should rush it, but I think you should plan on it. Have a script, which you clearly didn’t. Hang with someone already in the circle in case you’re caught off guard again, which will get easier as the circle gets wider.”

“Thanks, Chuck. You’re a better friend than I expected. I’m going to go grab us another pizza because I’m starving – which, by the way, is a symptom of sex-shifting, so it doesn’t count as overeating.” Quinn stands to go.

I watch her leave, then stop her. “Quinn?”

She looks back. “Yeah?”

“How much physical change do you go through when you shift?”

“Not much – it seems like just enough to make all the sex parts work as expected. Penis, breasts, vagina, hips a little, voice for some reason. Why?”

“Then it must be the shoes and/or jeans, because your ass looks fantastic right now.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Men. See you in a few, Chuck.”