During dinner, as Mom, Dad (who arrived shortly beforehand), and I sat down to eat, the phone rang. Mom didn't recognize the number, but mincing over to the receiver I saw that it was Branden's cell phone. Picking it up in one of my petite hands, I held it up to my ear and excused myself from the table.
"Hello, is this Mrs. Long? I have something important I need to tell you about Mike." Branden asked from the other end of the line.
"No, dude, you're speaking to me, Michael." I said, plopping my butt down on a chair in my room. "What's up?"
"Oh, uh... n-nothing," Stammered Branden. "Just wanted to call to, uh, make sure that you still wanted to go through with this."
"Yeah, that's the plan after all." I said, annoyed. "You coming?"
"I'll be there in 5 minutes." We then ended the conversation. I thought it strange how he wanted to talk to my mother, but maybe he wanted to add another layer of support to the alibi that I would be staying at his house that evening. Even if that was unnecessary, as Mom could simply call Branden's number back at any time to 'check up' on me. I used the bathroom one more time, then put on a pair of (women's) sneakers and waited out front. I had retrieved the Webers' spare house key and put it in my handbag, since my leggings didn't come with pockets. Yes, I had begun to get used to carrying a handbag around wherever I went.
I saw Branden's dad's truck pull up to the curb, and I stepped up to sit beside him. Branden had taken a shower and threw on a graphic t-shirt of a local garage band, camo shorts, and beach sandals. I clicked the seat belt into place, hardly noticing at this point how much the belt pressed into my boobs.
"So have the Webers left yet?" He asked.
"Not yet, their car's still out front." I answered, pointing to their 2-door luxury sports car. "I guess we'll have to drive around for a bit. They should be gone within a few minutes."
"Alright..." Said Branden, somewhat reluctantly. "Not too long, or else my dad's gonna know I took his car out while he was gone."
"It won't be that long." I said to reassure him, though I also hoped that the Webers would leave soon.
So we drove through the neighborhood for about twenty minutes until, on passing the house for the third time, the car was gone. He parked the truck on the curb and we got out.
It was taking a big risk, since we didn't know if the Webers had actually left yet, but I unlocked the front door and stepped inside.
The coast is clear!" I announced to my friend, who ran up to rejoin me and begin searching.
"So this ring of yours... where do you think it is in this house? What does it look like?" Asked Branden.
"It's probably in their bedroom, kept wherever jewelry and valuable items are stored. Hopefully not inside a safe, assuming they have one." I replied, walking through the living room for a quick, once-over search. As was the case in my own pictures, Mary's life had been altered in an opposite fashion. Every one of her framed pictures and photos showed my tall, comparatively muscular body below her head. For some reason, seeing her like that was even more disconcerting than seeing my head on her body.
The Webers' bathrooms were very clean and tidy, but I noticed that there were subtle differences that paralleled those in my own home. The most obvious being that Mary no longer needed tampons, maxi pads, pantiliners, or cleansers. Her cosmetics were still there, except for some bottles of lotion and skin cremes that I found in my own bathroom now. The toilet seat was up as well, much to my chagrin.
Their house also had three bedrooms, although one seemed to be converted into a personal office. The other was filled with baby toys, unisex clothing, colorful wallpaper, and an empty crib in the center of the room. It having not been filled yet.
Finally, Branden and I narrowed down our search to the most relevant place: Mary and Josh's bedroom. Their single bed, like the rest of the house, was clean and tidy, the carpet recently vacuumed. There was a vanity table and mirror which overlooked a lot of tubes of makeup, glosses, foundation, and other things Mary still used. There was some jewelry -- necklaces and bracelets mostly -- but not much in the way of head-swapping rings, unfortunately.
"Try searching the dresser drawers?" I suggested. "Or the closet?"
"I don't know, Mike. This might be getting a little too invasive..." Branden trailed off.
I gave him a blank stare, then replied, "Well, we've already made it this far. The quicker we find the ring, the quicker we get out of here, right?"
Branden nodded, and I began to sift through the dresser for anything resembling a ring while he explored the walk-in closet. I expected Mary to have all of my old clothes in there, which made sense because I now owned all of her articles of clothing. So, without disturbing the clothes very much, I looked through her boxer shorts, t-shirts, jeans, pants, and jackets. I remember buying some of those clothes at the store myself, which was why it made me especially regretful to have put on that ring in the first place. What I wouldn't give to be able to wear my old clothes again without looking like a freak!
"Hey! I think I found something!" Cried out Branden, picking up a set of rings stored in a cardboard box in the closet. "Think any of these is the 'head-swapper'?"
"I don't know," I admitted, taking a handful of rings and laying down to examine them. "I wish I had paid more attention to the ring before the swap happened. Keep looking around for more while I try these on, okay?"
I looked at my thin, pale fingertips adorned with long, recently painted nails, and slipped the first ring on. It was a plain gold ring with a lackluster shine to it. I tried putting the ring on each finger on both hands, but nothing happened. I still had Mary's increasingly pregnant body below my head.
"Did it work? How would I know if it works?" Asked Branden.
"If it works, then you should suddenly see Mary here, sitting on her bed, instead of me." I remarked. "But... I guess you wouldn't remember anyways, since reality would change."
"Then how would I explain how I got here?" He realized uneasily. Not that it would happen, of course. I'm just doing this to keep an eye on Mike, to make sure he doesn't hurt himself or the baby, he thought to himself.
"Hmm, I don't know." I dismissed his concern, then continued slipping rings on my fingers. But, sadly, every ring tried in every conceivable combination had no result. No matter which ring I tried, I still felt the weight of breasts hanging on my chest, the way my ass pressed like a soft cushion against the bed, my belly stretching out the maternity top I was wearing, and the baby kicking inside of me.
"We have to keep looking." I said, joining Branden in the walk-in closet to look around.
"We've been here for too long..." He replied. "We should leave before --
SQUUEEEEEEEEEAAAK!
"What's that sound?" Branden gave a quiet shriek. "Was that a door?"
"I don't know!" I hissed. The Webers weren't home already... were they?
