After a few seconds of panic, both of them had calmed down.
“Maybe if we go back together, it will fix this?” Jon asked.
“…n…No. No, that’s too dangerous. We need to get it repaired, and to get professional help, just using it again if it is malfunctioning is as bad an idea as hitting someone over the head a second time to try to get their memory back after they get amnesia from head trauma, chances are that will just make things worse.” his mom said back.
“So well let’s get that help then. But, is there anything we can do about the way we look, I can’t go around in public like this!”
“Well…. actually, now that you mention it. You are a 32 inch waist, which is more than me, but my hips are wider, but not that big…”
“What are you getting at?” Jon asked, dreading the ‘solution’ he knew was coming.
“And your feet are a men’s size 10, and mine are a woman’s size 11, which is equivalent to a men’s size 9.5…”
“No… there’s no way that’s going to work…” Jon said, almost wanting to believe it wouldn’t, though knowing that it not working might be worse.
“Just, follow me,” his mom said jogging off using his more athletic lower body.
“At least she’s wearing boots, and not high heels or something,” Jon said to himself, not actually having any difficulty keeping up. Besides, wherever she was leading him, he wanted to get there quickly rather than standing around in public getting gawked at. 2 blocks away there was a gas station, and it had a public restroom that was not designated for men or for women. They wordlessly slipped inside and things unavoidably got awkward as they did what had to be done. They emerged from the bathroom looking almost like normal, except for the curious slightly feminine seeming curve of “his” hips. Jon had remedied the flatness of “his” crotch with a big wad of toilet paper, and “his” mom had nothing to worry about at all, wearing a skirt, tights and boots that thoroughly hid issues such as a crotch bulge and unshaved legs, showing not a square inch of skin.
“All right young man,” Jon’s mom said. “You just go to school like normal, I will contact the transporter manufacturer and see about fixing this.
“Maybe this won’t be so bad,” Jon muttered. “I can always use the rock to fix it if it looks like it’s gong to take long enough for, the hormones produced by, what I’m packing downstairs, to begin to affect, my upstairs.” As “he” lumbered toward the school, “he” wondered exactly how much time that was. “Probably several days and it’s nothing to worry about,” … she said out loud to herself.
