For support, Andrew decided to take Claire to the clinic, though it did take her a good while to get ready, the rustle of clothes and light squealing emerging from her closet as she selected an outfit.
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It had never especially bothered Andrew before, the way she waggled her fingers and smiled at male pedestrians as he drove her — an arm around her dissolved her into a fit of giggles and kisses that drove away any observer’s thoughts of winning her — but now it seemed a grave portent to Andrew, a picture of his future.
It was a niche belief that slowly made its way into mainstream, with manifold studies on the topic, that, generally, there was a difference between the ‘Serumed’ and ‘Naturals’. Of course, anyone could see that former convicts were, er, far less academically gifted than either one of their feminine peers, but it would take a few well-placed questions to figure out that the lass at the bar with the low-cut blouse giggling at every clumsily-worded flirt was, more often than not, a former man, compared to their more conservatively-dressed counterparts.
And so it had been a constant rankle at the back of his mind, that the busty, outgoing, effusive, fashion-oriented, and more-than-a-little-ditzy Claire may have been… well, a man. Andrew had only asked once, received an affirmative answer, then left it at that. He was far more loathe to broach the subject than she was.
Maybe now was the time.
“So, Claire,” Andrew started, carefully keeping his tone and gaze even. “How was it like for you.. um, beforehand?”
An uncomprehending vacant gaze was his answer, so he gave it another shot.
“What were you like… before the serum?”
Claire’s face split into an open grin, and Andrew’s stomach lurched. “Oh! You shoulda said so!” A manicured finger probed her lip, and she gazed at the horizon for a tic. “Well, I def’nitly ‘member being taller… less, uh, soft.” She giggled mischievously at her own remark. “And, um, I think I was learning something about…” Her nose wrinkled cutely in concentration as she sounded out the word: “Mye-crow-bye-oll-ohgy!”
The short look at Claire’s smile of triumph was enough to shatter Andrew’s hopes. Sure, he loved Claire, and was planning on popping ‘the question’ a few years down the line, but, ending up like her?! That was far from ideal.
Claire must’ve seen some flicker of despair on Andrew’s face, because she leaned over and held his hand tight, all the while cooing, “Oh, don’t be sad, honey. I don’t miss it much; cookin’ an’ cleanin’s soo much more fun than all that reading!”
Andrew could definitely feel his face twist into a grimace, and apparently some semblance of realization wormed its way into Claire’s thick skull. “Uh, and I’m sure that they’re just calling you ‘bout a problem with your D an’ A, after all!”
Andrew stiffly nodded. That faint hope still shone in his heart: the ripped paper was nigh-illegible, save for the ‘PRESENCE REQUESTED IMMEDIATELY’ excerpt. One of his friends, John, had recieved a similar letter, and attended the clinic only for a quick handshake and a warm smile from the County Gender Director. There was still hope for him.
A silence hung in the car for a good bit, until Claire broke it with a “Hey, Drew, can I ask ‘ya somethin’? Like, if you’re going to be a girl n’ all?”
Andrew rounded one of the last turns before the clinic and returned a numb, “Sure.”
Claire squirmed guiltily before blurting out “Couldyoumakemeyoursponsor, pleeassee?”
“What?”
She took in a big breath before continuing. “So, I ‘member when they let me out, they told me that I could bring in someone and dire - deerec- choose their changes a bit? And, uh, even though you don’t wanna be a girl and all — which is kinda rude, I think — I thought I could…” More animated squirming, that sent her prodigious bust sloshing, “Uh, make you my sister?”
The blood drained from Andrew’s face. “No. Absolutely not.”
Claire pouted theatrically and clenched her tiny fists to the ample bulge in her blouse. “Aw, come on! We could be twinsies!”
Andrew shook his head, lip curling in disgust. The idea of going around as a ditzy twin of his girlfriend was some kind of sick nightmare. Giggling at vapid soap operas together… Squealing in unison at trips to the strip mall together… Going to a bar. A shudder went down his spine.
“C’mon, Drew! I’ll even tell ‘em not to do all the brain stuff to ya!”
Andrew turned to her in surprise, nearly running through a red light in his fixation. “Y-you can do that?”
Claire’s usually-vacant smile had more of a catlike quality to it this time. “Mhmm. They said they’d take all of my ‘sug-jest-yuns’ into ‘count.” Her smile brightened as she added, “And I can still love you ‘n stuff, just not in the, uh, sexy way!”
Andrew ran his tongue around the edge of his lips as he pulled into the clinic. It was a tempting offer, to be sure. Sure, he might come out the other end the busty twin of his current lover, but at least he might be able to maintain some of his dignity. A bimbo in form alone.
Then again, he had seen speeches given by some ‘Serumed’ where they had looked quite modest, and sounded quite astute. It all depended on the administrator, he supposed. Claire — or whatever her name might have been before — might just have gotten unlucky.
As he opened the car door, he decided...
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