Femboi Hooters Pt. 05

"Water," Brendan mumbled. He was still asleep.

Jessica faced away from him. She was asleep too.

"At the bottom."

Jessica stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"At the bottom of the ocean. Way down there. Down with the fish."

She woke up. She checked her phone. The bright illumination burned her retinas. 3.45am. Fuck. She wasn't used to sharing her bed. Gingerly, she shook his shoulder and woke him up. "You OK?"

Brendan wiped his eyes. "Huh?" You know that transient moment of internal panic when you wake up in a strange bed, in a strange room, with a strange person? He experienced a 'where the fuck am i?' freakout moment.

"You were talking in your sleep, I think." She hoped he wasn't a sleepwalker.

Brendan was still half-asleep, yet half-remembered. His brain tried to piece together the scattered fragments of whatever the fuck he was dreaming about while trying to recall what happened just last night. Vaguely, he remembered he was on schedule to get up with the sun this morning. Tomorrow was gonna be a big day. He needed more sleep.

"You said something about water being at the bottom of the ocean."

It felt like Jessica's words were arriving to him in slow motion, slurred, pulsing through waves. Eventually, Brendan's brain finally began to sputter, slowly kicking into gear. "Where else would it be?"

She didn't answer. Jessica rolled back onto her side and fell asleep again.

He stared at her unfamiliar ceiling. He prayed for more sleep before sunrise. His eyes eventually closed again.

*

Brendan was gone by the time Jessica woke up. He needed to drive home and get changed before work. Before leaving, he wrote his host a short note. 'Thanks for inviting me over last night.' He wrote his number underneath. 'If I didn't freak you out too much, maybe call me sometime?'

Closing Jessica's apartment door behind him, he rode the elevator to ground floor. His car was untouched, parked exactly where he left it last night, but he wasn't sure how to get back home. He keyed his address into his phone and let technology lead the way.

Panic set in once he arrived back at his apartment. He was about to head to the office for the first time since his breasts appeared. He knew people would notice, and they'd probably stare, too. He dreaded questions. He had no idea what he might say. He wasn't even sure what to wear. He decided to play it as cool as he possibly could. He dressed normally, as if he was going to the office on any regular day before his enormous tits sprouted up.

Just before he left the house, he considered logging on from home today instead. He knew he could, but just as he was about to succumb to the temptation, two things changed his mind. The first was the knowledge he'd only be prolonging the inevitable. He couldn't work from home forever; eventually, sometime later this week, he'd need to attend the office. The second was Jessica. The story she told him last night somehow emboldened him.

As he walked to the bus station, there was steel in his spine, but as he stood there, waiting for the people's chariot, his resolve began to wilt again. He was just about to run back home, tail between his legs, when he saw his bus in the distance. Fuck. Too late.

Brendan was in a state of high anxiety from nine until five. For most of the day, his breath came fast and shallow, and he found himself jumping at unexpected loud noises. Mentally, he felt like he was walking back and forth on a tightrope suspended between two tall buildings, high above the ground.

He was a nervous wreck whenever any of his colleagues spoke to him. In conversation, he noticed the odd glance drift curiously south, landing on his chest just for a split second. His co-workers had obviously noticed, but nobody said anything. Well, at least not directly to him, but he felt certain he was the talk of the office today. He knew there'd be whispers ...

('Hey, have you seen Brendan today? Have you noticed anything different about him? Yeah, I noticed too! Like, whatever, it's none of my business, but what the fuck's *that* about?')

Time moved slowly. Five o'clock eventually arrived, and Brendan couldn't wait to get out of there.

On the bus back home, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He received a text message from an unknown number. The message was simple: a single emoji of a red heart.

He knew it wouldn't have been from Steph. There was only one other person it could've come from. He smiled.

*

Later that night, Brendan sat on the couch with a book in his lap. He heard a key turn in the door and looked up. "Hey, Steph," he said.

She smiled warily, desperately hoping for a peaceful evening. "Hey, Brendan." She noticed his book. "What are you reading?"

He showed her the spine. "The new Murakami novel. I'm finding it hard to get into so far." He paused; he knew she wouldn't care. Once upon a time, they might've talked about it, but not now. She forced another smile before walking to their bedroom. All her clothes and things were here. He heard her rummaging around. He tried to resume his place in his book, but his concentration was shot. He'd read the same sentence fifteen times.

Steph sat on the couch, keeping a safe distance. She looked at his chest. His tits were still there. "How've you been?" she asked.

"Good, I guess." A painful silence fell. "What about you?"

Steph shrugged. Each day was a struggle. She was barely holding herself together.

"How's your mom?" Brendan knew she'd been sleeping in her mom's spare room these past few nights.

"She's fine, I guess," she replied. Steph ran her fingers through her mousy brown hair. "But I'm a little tired, though. Been working too hard, and lately, I feel like ... I feel like I don't have a place to stay."

"It's just sleep, Steph." Brendan was referring to an earlier conversation. They might not be together emotionally, but times were tough, and even if their friendship went retrograde into being roommates who had to sleep in the same bed out of necessity, Brendan was OK with that.

This place didn't feel like home to Stephanie anymore. She didn't want to be here any longer than she needed to, but on the other hand, moving is a monumental pain in the ass, and most people delay it until it's inescapable. "Yeah, I know," she sighed, "but ... like, I think I'm just worn out with everything right now." She paused for a second. "Is it OK if I take a shower?"

Brendan couldn't believe she was asking permission. "It's your apartment too," he said.

That's not quite how she felt anymore. She didn't belong here. Steph shrugged her shoulders, headed to the bathroom and closed the door.

Brendan replied to the unknown number on his phone. 'Jessica?' he typed.

Her reply arrived immediately. 'Hey.'

Brendan: 'So you got my note?'

Jessica: yeah, you said to call but I thought id start with a text ... or, to be accurate, an emoji

He heard the shower running.

Brendan: how was ur day

Jessica: i went to work and wore clothes that made me look like the sky, how was urs

Brendan: awkward ... everyone in the office was staring at my tits but nobody said anything

Jessica: was that a good thing or a bad thing

Brendan: fuck, i don't know ... not sure ... but also not sure how im gonna cope tomorrow ... i mean, someone's gonna say something sooner or later, right

There was a short pause in their messages.

Jessica: hey so I really liked hanging out with u last night

Brendan: same

Jessica: I hope you found the water you were looking for

Brendan:?

Jessica: at the bottom of the ocean

Brendan: yeah so i think i had a strange dream

Jessica: tell me about it some time?

Brendan: ok :)

He smiled.

In the bathroom, Steph quietly collapsed onto the tiled shower floor and wept as the warm water cascaded over her.

Jessica: are u alone right now

Brendan: no

Jessica:?

Brendan: I said last night

Jessica: your ex?

Brendan: yeah she's here, taking a shower ... neither of us can afford to move out so we have to live together even though we're not together if that makes sense

Jessica: you sleep in the same bed?

Brendan: we don't have any spare space. i don't really want to sleep with her but i can tell she's moments away from crying whenever she sees me and it breaks my heart to think im doing this to her

Jessica: half of my bed is empty

At her end, the silence was painful. She waited for him to respond. She hoped she hadn't offended him.

Brendan: if that was an invitation, i would love to, but I can't ... not tonight

Jessica: yeah i understand

Another short pause.

Brendan: do you like me in the same way i like u

Jessica: i think so yeah

His heart swelled, though he knew how strange and unusual this was. They'd only known each other for a little more than a day, but something about this felt right.

Brendan: give me a chance to explain to her

Jessica: explain about what

Brendan: like, i thought about you all day

Jessica: i thought about you too, even though I didn't sell a single bra

He smiled.

Brendan: I think I'm gonna need to buy another one soon ... maybe you can help me try it on?

Jessica: customer service, right?

Brendan sent her a red heart of his own. Way across town in Ingleside, across the State line, Jessica grinned.

Jessica: awwwwwwwwwwww

Brendan: maybe I should've sent you a black heart or a purple one ... you know, to match your furniture and shit

Jessica: should've explained im a bit of a metalhead

Brendan: guessed :) well, either that or a goth

Jessica: foot in each sexy satanic camp

Brendan wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. He tried to think of something witty, but just as he began to type, the bathroom door opened. Steph emerged with a fluffy white towel wrapped around her torso and another around her hair. Her eyes were puffy.

Thick clouds of steam billowed upwards into the extractor fan. "Gonna go to bed soon," said Steph, almost on autopilot. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "So tired. So worn out. And I've got another big day tomorrow." She padded quietly to their bedroom, completely exhausted. All she wanted right now was to wake up in the morning feeling at least semi-recharged. Another challenging day at the corporate coalface wasn't too far away.

Brendan nodded, silently acknowledging Steph's words. He texted Jessica one last time. 'I need to look after my ex. She's not in a good space, and I think I can understand why. Can we talk tomorrow?'

Although Jessica only knew the bare minimum of Brendan's home life so far, she sensed he had some urgent shit to navigate tonight. 'OK.'

*

Brendan stood up and followed his ex to their bedroom. "You OK, Steph?" he asked. Instinctively, he reached out to rub her shoulders, but he pulled back at the last second. He knew that kind of intimate touching wasn't appropriate anymore.

"Yeah, kinda, I guess," said a resigned Steph, sitting on the edge of the bed. She pulled a brave face, but her shoulders were slumped in defeat. "I guess I need to move out, don't I? I think I need to move back to my mom's place. We talked. She understands. I didn't tell her anything about you, I just told her things weren't working out between you and me." Everything inside her was on the verge of boiling over. It took all her emotional reserves to keep control. "I mean, that's right, isn't it? Things haven't worked out between us?"

He stood beside her. "Despite everything, can we still be friends?" he asked quietly, his eyebrows raised in hope. "I mean, I know a relationship between us isn't going to work out right now, but ..."

Deep in the magma of her soul, Stephanie detonated. She'd tried so hard to remain calm and unruffled by all of this, but despite her best efforts, the thin crust of her earth finally fragmented. She stood up, facing him, challenging him. "No! You fucking lied to me, you piece of shit!" Her bottom lip trembled. The tears came hard and fast now. "I don't wanna be friends with you! I don't even wanna be in the same fucking room as you, much less sleep in the same bed!" She wiped her wet cheek with the back of her wrist. "If I knew you were a fucking faggot, I never would've moved in with you!"

He'd never seen this side of her. Steph's furious anger took him by surprise, and he flinched a little in response. He winced at her choice of terminology. He hated that word so fucking much. "I'm not ... I'm not a ..."

Stephanie got right up in his face. "Yes you are!" she spat, poking him in the chest with a finger. "What else should I call a guy who lets other guys fuck him?"

His brain swirled with a myriad of possible responses, but right now, he knew none of them would've landed with her.

"Besides," Steph continued, "other than the night we first met, you've never been into me sexually. Sure, we had sex every now and then, but I could tell it felt like a chore to you, and for the longest time I thought it was because I was ugly, but now I know it wasn't about me, it was because you were a closet gayboy faggot who couldn't fuck women."

He winced again. "Steph, you're not ugly, and as a matter of fact ..."

She'd never learn where Brendan was going with the rest of his sentence, but right now, she didn't care. "Shut the fuck up!" she glared. "I don't care what you think about me anymore, and I don't wanna hear anything else that comes out of your filthy lying cocksucking faggot mouth!"

Brendan exhaled. His light brown eyes were sad. "Stop using that word. Please."

Steph stopped dead in her tracks. Her face was defiant. "What word?"

"Please ... stop calling me that."

Steph's angry eyes were on fire. "The shoe fits, though, doesn't it, Cinderella? What else should I call a guy who dresses up like a cheap slut and goes to truckstops and carparks to attract strange men? What else should I call the person I moved in with, who I thought loved me and who I thought one day I might marry, only to find he's more into getting skewered by anonymous dick than he's into the woman who sleeps beside him?"

Brendan couldn't follow the thread anymore. Marriage had never crossed his mind, and he couldn't remember Steph ever mentioning it either. He took a deep breath. Love? He still loved her, but in a very different way now, though he knew admitting this would take their conversation nowhere. Everything was too much right now. "I just didn't know."

Stephanie was incendiary. She pushed her hair back over her ears; her overtired eyes were defiantly wide. "Are you telling me you didn't know you were a cocksucker? Then what made you buy that Hooters waitress outfit you told me about?"

Brendan couldn't reply.

"And then you went to that roadhouse last week and let a trucker fuck you, and then who the fuck knows what else you did since then." Her hopes for a peaceful evening were shot to hell.

He knew he hadn't told her everything, but he'd been willing to. "When you came home on Saturday night, I was prepared to tell you what had happened earlier that afternoon, and also what happened on Friday night. I started to tell you, but you cut me off, saying you didn't need to know. Or maybe you didn't want to know. Either way, you can't blame me for that." He paused for a second. "Steph, I ... I know this is weird, and it's not what either of us expected when we signed the lease for this apartment, but I've been as honest as I can about this ... I've told you everything ... I've answered all your questions ..."

"I don't believe you. I always thought honesty was one of your virtues but look how wrong I was. You're such a fucking liar!" Steph could feel sweat building up inside her tightly clenched fists. "I hate you! I hate the fuck out of you right now, you gay faggot-ass cunt piece of shit!"

That word again. "I didn't lie to you, Steph. Not once. Every question you asked, I answered truthfully. I don't know what else you want me to tell you. I don't know what else you need to know." Brendan paused for a second, breathing deeply, trying his best to remain calm and focused. He knew their relationship was over, and he knew this might be the last time they talked like this, but he wanted to give their current conversation as much respect as he could. He looked down and saw Steph's furious hands tensed by her side, armed and ready for action. "Don't forget you've had a busy week at work," he said, "and we haven't had the time or space to talk about stuff. It's not all on me. Ask me more questions right now, anything you want, and I promise you'll get nothing but the truth." He paused to draw fresh breath. "I only ever wanted to be straight with you."

Her face was twisted, contorted, scowling. Her shoulders heaved; her breath was violently shallow and jagged. "Straight?" she spat. "Well, that's what I thought you were when we moved in together, but hey, let's chalk that up as yet another lie from the mouth of the sissy cocksucker I'll be sleeping next to until I can afford to move the fuck out!" She paused for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't fucking believe I ever moved in with you."

Brendan took half a step towards her. "Babe, you don't understand, I ..."

Her fists tightened and her voice lowered to a viciously dark whisper. "Babe? Don't you fucking *dare* call me that."

"I think I met someone." He glanced at the floor. "Someone else."

Every muscle in Stephanie's body was armed, primed, ready for action, waiting to explode, wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face. She imagined the impact, the blood ...

"She's trans." Brendan watched Steph breathe. "I really like her."

Steph couldn't tell whether this was good news or bad, but in this moment, she knew one thing for sure: she didn't want to be here anymore. The fight went out of her. She was done with him. Without another word, she began to scoop up some clothes, a few essentials, and her toothbrush. She'd come back to collect the rest of her shit later.

Brendan stood beside their bed, not moving, not speaking. Steph's movements were quiet and efficient as she gathered what she needed for the next few days and nights. He shuddered a little as he heard the apartment door slam shut.

Steph cried again in her car. In tears, she called her mom to say it was all over between her and Brendan. Her mom said she could move back home for as long as she needed. No further questions were asked; this was the purity of a mother looking out for her heartbroken daughter.

For a few moments, Brendan stood still, concentrating on his breathing. He ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair. He listened to the sound of air entering his lungs, then leaving. He knew that Steph wasn't the one for him, but right now, it didn't stop the pain. While this was in many ways a release for him, it still hurt. It wasn't so much losing her as a friend that hurt, it was her accusation. She'd accused him of deceiving her, but he felt like he'd been as honest as he could with her. People grow through their lives, right? They learn new things about themselves, right? As far as Brendan could tell, that's what had happened to him. He didn't know this unknown thing about him. Unexpectedly, he'd learned that his sexuality wasn't what he thought it was, and he felt compelled to experiment and explore.

That's what people do, right?

You only live once.

It was way too soon for misgivings, but he wondered if maybe he could've told Steph about his feelings sooner. But he didn't know what they meant or how everything felt; he was still processing things internally, and how could he explain these impulses and urges to his partner when he didn't fully understand them himself?

He didn't mean for this to happen.

Brendan felt the silence of their apartment. He knew everything with Steph was broken. He knew now how much she hated him. Maybe she'd change her mind about that later, or maybe she wouldn't. It wasn't up to him, and he took some time to let that thought settle. In the meantime, he decided to make himself scarce when she came back to collect her things. Letting her move out alone was probably the best thing for them both.