Meanwhile, Branden gathered his wrestling singlet, headgear, towel, sneakers, underwear, and keys and threw them all in a bag with an emblem of our high school fastened on the side. His father, Jack, and his mother, Elizabeth, were out running errands with his other siblings for the afternoon, but Jack left him the truck to go to the wrestling meet. It was this truck, the same one Branden picked me up in a few days ago, that pulled into the driveway of my house.
On the short drive over to my house, Branden found himself perplexed, his focus not on wrestling but on an altogether different matter. It had been a few days since the close debacle when he and I got trapped in the Webers' house. Hiding while they returned home early, becoming an unwilling trespasser on their 'confirmation of vows'... what would have happened if he got caught? But the incident followed him long after he had come home that night. He pondered over it this afternoon as well. Waiting in the driveway for me to come out, he gazed over apprehensively at my neighbors' house.
Michael took the Webers' box of rings with us. He hasn't given it back to them yet. Yet, how can I tell his mother or the Webers about this strange delusion of his about head swapping without implicating myself in all of this? The longer I keep my mouth shut, the harder it will be to explain myself when they find out. And they will find out. They will find out...
I tossed my bags in the backseat of the truck next to Branden's own wrestling bag, then hefted myself into the front passenger seat. Noticing the contemplative look on his face, I asked him, "Sup dude? Everything alright?"
He blinked, taking his hands off the steering wheel to shift the gears into drive. "Yeah... everything's fine. Just thinking about today's meet is all."
"You'll do fine. No pressure, it's like a practice competition." I replied, giving him a thumbs up topped with a recently manicured nail.
"A practice competition against our bitter rivals? It's a walk in the park as long as Coach Kelvin doesn't flip his shit like last time!" Cracked Branden, recalling the harsh beat down delivered by Ironrock High during last school year's championship tournament.
"Their team was full of seniors last year, Branden. They all graduated, now they're total weaksauce."
"That's a bold statement, Mike. Too bold, considering you don't have to square off on the mats today. Don't forget that their school is larger than ours by a few hundred students. They've built a reputation as a competitive school in all kinds of sports, wrestling included."
"Well, so have we. Wish I could compete with you guys today, but you know...." I said, prodding my belly. "By the way, I went to the doctor's this morning. Twins, dude. Twin fucking girls." I described all the details to him as I had done with Mary over the phone a few hours ago. He seemed equally as incredulous as her, as I suppose both of them were also equally as clueless now about the workings of a gestating female body. The more I talked about it during the ride, the more nauseous it made me feel. Either that or the erratic way Branden was driving; he obtained a fresh driver's license from the DMV a couple weeks ago and had been itching to get his hands on the wheel of a car ever since.
"You okay Mike?" Branden watched me clenching my teeth and grimacing. "Please please please, dude, don't puke on the seats, my Dad's trusting me to take good care of his truck. He'll kill me if he finds so much as a speck of dirt! Do we need to stop off somewhere so you can relax a bit?"
"No, just stop driving so fast." I replied tersely. "We'll make it there in time. The meet starts in an hour, but we can't afford to waste any more time by stopping."
He nodded, keeping his eyes peeled on an intersection dead ahead. "I noticed you brought your wrestling bag and purse along," He added, "Are you gonna get dressed out with the rest of us when we get there?"
"I thought it would be okay." I said, sensing a pang of hurt in the way Branden asked me that question. "Why? I'm still as much a part of the team as anyone else, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course, I didn't mean it that way." He replied. "What I meant was, is the singlet still gonna fit you? You've grown a little around the middle since you wore it last year. Maybe wearing something more comfortable would be best?"
"Branden, all players on the team have to wear the uniform. I'm on the team. I'm wearing it, even if it looks weird."
He nodded before we finally pulled the truck into a parking lot in front of the high school. The buildings looked the same as when I last saw them at the end of the school year last spring. The exception being that the school was empty save for the parents. coaches, athletes, and fans filing into the gymnasium. Already there appeared to be a sizable crowd forming in the bleachers lining the walls of the large room. The room was a basketball court with long, blue mats rolled over the polished wooden tiles. The referees had not arrived yet, and both teams were still in their respective locker rooms getting ready to compete.
Following Branden past the ticket booths and into the hallway next to the gym, it was surprising that none of the students or parents gave a second glance at me. They did not point, scream, or do anything to suggest that they didn't expect to see a six-month pregnant high school boy strutting into the locker room. I noticed Sarah Tatum and her clique of popular girls sitting in the bleachers chatting together. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, spaghetti-strap tank top (with bra straps showing), denim miniskirt, and 4-inch sling back pumps. She was leaning over to talk to her friends in the row in front of her, revealing a bountiful set of cleavage with her straw-blonde hair partially obscuring those eye-pleasing beauties. I felt an odd stirring sensation down below, but Branden snapped me back to attention and pulled me along with him.
We entered the home team locker room with about 40 minutes until the start of the first match. The weight classes had been randomly drawn and Branden's match was to begin third, according to the coach's clipboard tacked onto the wall. He and I were one of the last to get there, and Branden immediately headed toward the weight room to get warmed up. I minced over to my own locker and opened it up.
Most of the other guys on the team paid me no mind, as they were busy preparing themselves mentally and physically for their match. They were in various states of undress, though most had by now gotten into their skin-tight nylon singlets. Coach Kelvin was out conferring with the other team's coaches, getting lineup cards ready and waiting to receive the referees when they arrived. Coach Berns, the assistant coach, supervised the rest of us and even spotted for some of the athletes while they lifted weights. The locker room had that unmistakeable odor of sweat and fried chicken that floods the nostrils and almost made me gag. It never bothered me before, why did it seem so nauseating now?
"Hey Mike, nice to see ya again." I felt a rough clap on the back. Turning to see Jim Evans, the star athlete on our team, I nodded and grunted, "Yeah. Thanks. Good luck today."
"Thanks, but I won't need it." He said smugly. "Are you gonna be ready for the start of the season?"
"My due date isn't until November, so I'll be missing the first few weeks of competition. After that, I should be back and ready." I replied. Hopefully a lot sooner than that, or else this body of mine wouldn't last five seconds out on that mat.
"Good to hear, dude! Coach Berns wanted to talk to you, you better go and see what for. He's in the weight room." He mentioned, giving me that 'you really better do this' look when we knew something important was going to happen.
"Sure thing, tell him I'll be there right after I get changed out." Jim went back into the weight room to finish his set of squats. I unzipped my bag and pulled out my own singlet. As with everything else in this reality, the piece of fabric had been refitted for my new body. I stripped off my clothes and gingerly stepped into the singlet, feeling it slide up my thicker thighs and settle snugly into place over my new hips and torso. The fabric stretched generously over my bigger ass and belly, while keeping tight around my flat crotch. Even the straps going over my shoulders were wide enough to cover my breasts. Their rubbing against the nylon causing them to itch rather uncomfortably. I decided not to put on the headgear and, instead, put on the shoes which had also been resized to fit my small, delicate feet.
Looking myself over in the mirror, I sighed before waddling into the weight room to see Coach Berns.
