Wish I May…

by Aoikami Sarah

Chapter Three

"Wendy!" The oldest of her three little brothers called up the stairs. His voice was changing, which was hilarious. "You got a visitor!"

"Weh?" The teen puzzled, looking up from the corny young-adult-fantasy-romance book she'd been reading. Lately, she'd taken to reading total garbage, completely unironically. The more of them she read, the more convinced she became that she could write better crap than these 'authors' could. She lived through cooler stuff than they wrote about!

Wendy gave a heavy sigh and placed the bookmark. Whoever it was who'd come to visit, it couldn't be one of her friends. They'd have texted first. No one just visited people anymore. She snorted imagining Thompson or Lee or somebody arriving on her doorstep in a suit and top hat and giving his calling card to her brother. "Oh, man. I gotta write that down," she said to herself and shouted that she would be right down.

Soos wasn't old enough to just pop by, he'd call or text, too. Stan might be old enough, but he'd never visit. Besides, if it was someone she knew, her brother would have said so, right?

As she rounded the landing, she saw the visitor standing in the foyer—a slim young woman in a trench coat. Her brown hair was messy and enormous hipstery horn-rim glasses slid down her nose as she looked up at her. Wendy made a face that conveyed vague annoyance and confusion as she descended the stairs.

"Miss Corduroy?" the young woman asked. "I'm sorry to bother you, but you're the only woman I know…"

"Yeah that's great, except I don't know you." She raised a brow and folded her arms. What was this? Some sort of practical joke? Was she hiding something gross under that ratty trench coat? And what was with that get up, anyway? What was she doing, cosplaying Stanford Pines?

The visitor pouted. On closer inspection, her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed and made Wendy instantly sorry for being so cold toward her. The woman pulled her hands from her pockets and wiggled her fingers at her—all twelve of them. "I'm afraid that you do."

Wendy gaped at them, then to the trench coat, up to the dimple in the woman's chin, her brown eyes and hair, and goofy glasses then grabbed one of her hands and dragged her upstairs without another word.

The teen slammed her bedroom door shut and leaned against it, staring at the woman now awkwardly standing in her room. She went straight to the windows on the opposite side and clutched her hands behind her back.

"Dr. Pines?!"

"Ford. Please…" Ford whispered, turned to face her and lowered her chin.

Wendy circled her. Ford stood about the same height as Wendy, perhaps a bit taller, but appeared to be somewhere in her twenties. "No. Way. No flipping way! What did you do?!"

"I didn't do this. It was done to me."

"Ok. Why? Who did you piss off?"

"I… I'm not sure," she balked. "I woke up this way after a night of drinking too much alcohol."

Wendy blinked at her. She had a hard time imagining Stanford Pines getting drunk, but once the image was in there, it was in there. Wendy sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at the woman with sympathy. "Whoa. Dude, I'm sorry."

"Is being a woman that terrible, really?" she replied. "That's not exactly the reaction I was hoping to get."

"No! I mean, well, actually, it kinda is, but…" she shook her head. "Dude. This is messed up. I do not know how to deal with this. Does Stan know?"

"No!" Ford shouted, eyes wide with fear. "No. He doesn't. Not yet." She started pacing. "I'm in a pickle, Miss Corduroy, and I was hoping to get your assistance. You see, I'm familiar with female anatomy only from textbooks and…"

"Oh. My god," Wendy gasped. "You're really a girl!"

Ford sighed and stopped pacing. "Yes. Much to my chagrin."

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Teach you 'how to girl'?"

"I…" Ford looked up at her but the words wouldn't come. "I have no idea." Her lower lip trembled and she turned away to face the windows. "I really haven't the faintest idea what to do." As she turned, Wendy's heart twisted. She stood and folded her arms around herself.

"Hey, I'm sorry I made you think being a girl sucks. It doesn't… too bad," she said under her breath. "This is gonna be a little weird for me because you're my boss's brother and all, but I can help you." She pulled open her dresser drawers and removed several pieces of clothing. "First thing's first. You need clothes that fit. Here. My yoga pants should fit you—nice and stretchy, and this big ol' tee shirt is super comfy. Your feet are… smaller than mine," she grumbled. "So, here's some flip-flops, and a pair of these, and one of these," she held up the last items, a pair of white cotton panties and a white skin-tone colored brassiere and noticed that Ford hadn't turned away from the windows yet. She put the clothes on the bed and her hand on Ford's shoulder. The young woman was crying, silently. Her mouth arched into a tight pout and tears rolled down her cheeks. "Hey, it's ok. It'll be ok…" she said, her voice going up in pitch in a way that reassured no one.

Ford sniffled. "I'm not so sure about that."

.x.

It took some doing, but about an hour later Wendy had managed to cajole Ford into returning to the Shack. The teen opened the front door without knocking and called to her employer and friend. Instantly, footsteps were heard pounding down the stairs toward them.

"I... I can't do this!" Ford cried and backed up into Wendy.

"Yes you can," she gently pushed her forward. "It's just Stan!"

In a panic and unable to free herself fast enough, Ford removed her glasses and hid them and her hands in the folds of her overlarge borrowed tee shirt.

Two men rounded the landing and thudded down the stairs. "Wendy!" one of them shouted. "You seen my brother? He's missing!"

The second man with glasses was hot on his heels and reached out to calm him down. "Stanley, ya might wanna take it easy..." he offered and gave Wendy a reassuring yet sheepish smile.

Her jaw hung open in shock. "What the...?" Her brain processed his name. The voice checked out, the nose certainly was his, and the jawline, but this dark-haired hunk-of-a-guy was Stan Pines? He'd been made young as well? Her grip on Ford's shoulders slacked.

Ford's face flushed crimson as she saw the two of them, but was not as stunned by their appearance as the younger woman. She grasped the multi-use watch on her wrist and secretly pressed a certain button. From the distant gift shop, the distinctive sound of the vending machine swinging open made both men's heads snap in its direction.

"Stanford!" Stan shouted and bolted for the basement door.

"Stanley, wait...!" Fiddleford called after him.

Using the confusion to her advantage, Ford peeled away from Wendy and fled out the open front door and into the woods.

Wendy pivoted to try to catch her, but was too dazed. She shook her head. "Dude, what the hell is going on?" she muttered and slowly entered the house, mulling over what she'd seen but could not wrap her brain around. In the gift shop, the other man was talking in quiet tones. "... don't think he's messin' with ya. I'm sure it was just a malfunction. He'll be back when he's ready. Why don't you go have a lie down for a spell." Stan agreed, citing his headache returning. He slinked off to bed, giving Wendy a sad, distracted wave as if absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary and the other man turned to face the teen. He was dressed in a pair of green pants with suspenders over a red, plaid flannel shirt with ugly green crocs on his feet. The entire outfit looked like something a man three times his age would wear. "Howdy, Wendy. Long time no see." He grinned deviously and let a light, unmistakable cackle escape.

"McGucket!?"

"The same!"

"Holy crap! Oh man, no wonder Ford looked so pissed!"

"Ford...?" His eyes widened. "Oh! That was…! But why is he a woman...?!"

"She doesn't know why, either." Wendy shrugged.

"And why is he—uh—she angry?"

"Dunno. She's super afraid of what Stan will think, for some reason." She folded her arms and frowned. "But all three of you are young now? This makes no sense!"

"As most things in this town, correct?" McGucket laughed lightly, unsure of how much he should tell her at this early stage.

"Well, yeah, but..."

He narrowed his eyes. "Thank you for bringing her home, Wendy. I think I know where she went. I'll catch up with her and see what I can do to help."

Wendy turned to go but hesitated. "Hey, uh, take good care of her, ok? This has really messed her up. She was crying."

McGucket pursed his lips and nodded.