Just for the Joke

Even though Rick now looked like some Instagram chick, the pose he/she had flopped into on the couch was totally him: theatrically ridiculous, arms thrown back, tongue sticking out like an idiot. He/she crashed next to Ralph and Alex suddenly and in that typical Rick way, continuing this imaginary photo shoot that was getting weirder and weirder.

— Oh blah-blah-blah, I'm a dumb bitch, I just love fucking guys and taking pics for my stupid followers! — Rick yelled in a cartoonish voice, rolling his eyes even harder while Mason dutifully kept snapping photos of him/her.

— Fuck… — Ralph, the one in the baseball cap, swallowed hard, instinctively lifting his legs before that moment, pretending to mimic Rick’s exaggerated poses, but really trying to hide the growing stiffness between his legs, which was only getting worse the longer Rick lay next to him. — This is getting kinda weird now.

— Ha! What's weird about it? — Rick clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes again, still clutching his tits. — It's just a photoshoot, come on. Like, for the story, right? “The day we got visited by a dumb wet bitch.”

Alex felt even more uncomfortable hearing that. It was like he suddenly became hyper-aware of how Rick’s smooth, soft skin was pressed against his body, how her long hair tickled his arm — relaxed just a minute ago, now tense. He had to shift his legs in his shorts, pressing them together — like that could somehow hide the awkwardness forming right under the fabric.

— For... uh… what? — Alex stammered, blushing like a tomato, staring off into the distance, frozen in place.

Rick burst out laughing, cheerful and almost manic, dropping his legs and resting the back of his head on Alex’s arm, making him nearly flinch.

— For our story, Alex! — Rick stretched out the words, staring at the ceiling, still sprawled in that new, almost parodic, feminine pose.

A tense silence fell.

Ralph stopped moving his legs, like he’d turned to stone. His eyes went from Rick’s tits — lingering a moment, almost mesmerized by the soft curve under the thin top — to his friend’s face, to that (her?) weird mix of smug grin and raw excitement.

— You do get that you’re… like, you’re actually a chick now, right? — he finally said, his voice cracking.

Rick turned his head and looked at Ralph with exaggerated shock, like he’d just been accused of murdering a guinea pig. Then he raised his eyebrows and squinted, whispering stupidly:

— What? No way… You mean these are real boobs?! — he theatrically lifted his top, squishing his breasts up slightly, and batted his eyelashes. — Oh my God! Who would've thought? Must be all Photoshop.

— Jesus, just stop already, — Alex muttered, lowering his gaze but sinking deeper into the couch, feeling Rick’s skin — too smooth, too soft, too… disturbingly real — brushing against his arm. He tried to pull away, but Rick immediately, like on cue, dropped a leg and “accidentally” bumped his knee against Alex’s thigh.

— I'm just messing around, guys. Come on. — Rick got up from the bed and lazily stretched, arching his back on purpose so that his breasts — not exactly magazine cover material, but definitely feminine — noticeably bounced under the top. He didn’t even realize it, but the eyes of both his friends jerked in sync, like some kind of primitive male reflex had kicked in.

— Get up, you zombies. — He bent over, grabbing each of them by the hand while they, as if hypnotized, kept staring at his tits, and yanked them up.

— Whoa, hey, wait a sec! — both of them blurted out almost in sync, but Rick had already pulled hard, laughing, not realizing he was way weaker now than before — and ended up flying backwards and crashing onto the floor.

— Ah, fuck! — he swore, pressing into the carpet, glaring up at his two friends from under his brows. They, unexpectedly even for themselves, jumped up to help — and then froze, like something had just clicked. But it was too late. Rick looked up at them from the floor, grinning wide, about to crack a joke — and froze too.

An awkward pause filled the whole room for several endless seconds.

— Uh… — Ralph finally managed, slowly dropping his gaze like he was afraid to meet Rick’s eyes.

Alex stood next to him, frozen, his arm half-extended as if to help, but now slowly lowering it between his legs, like that might somehow fix the situation.

Rick saw everything. He saw their boners. The whole joke of the situation vanished, like it had been wiped away by an ice-cold shower. He looked over at Ralph. He was standing there barely breathing, clearly trying to hide something with his hands. Under his top, Rick felt his nipples stiffen — maybe from the cold, or maybe from the realization that both his friends… were hard. Real, solid, throbbing… turned-on boners. Because of him. Because of how he — now she — had just been lying next to them. This didn’t feel like a prank anymore.

— What?.. — Rick breathed out, suddenly pushing himself back across the floor like distance might fix something. — You… you guys are turned on?

Ralph flinched:

— Hey, no… it’s not like that… You were just… lying there and… I mean… you looked…

— Like a chick, right? — Rick’s voice sharpened, turned harsh. He almost squealed — then immediately winced at how genuinely girly it had sounded. — But it’s still me! Rick! Your bro! What the fuck, assholes?! Are you fucking gay?!

— Just shut the fuck up already, — Ralph muttered, turning away, but his voice cracked. He was clearly fighting something inside himself. — It’s not… It’s not us, it’s you — the way you are now, fuck.

— What do you mean the way I am now?! — Rick jumped to his feet, staggering a bit.

— Like this! What the fuck’s so hard to get?! You want me to spell it out?! — Ralph yelled, his voice breaking into a near-scream before suddenly cutting off, like he was scared of his own words.

— Go ahead, say it! — Rick stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, breasts slightly lifted as his breath got heavy. — SAY IT, RALPH! SAY IT!

— You… you’re just… — Ralph threw his hands up like words failed him, but his eyes said it all: “You’re a chick. A hot one. Sexy as hell. Fucking irresistible.” He never said it out loud — didn’t need to. It was all over his face.

Rick suddenly let out a heavy sigh and slowly walked over to the table, where that damn medallion — the one that turned him into this chick — was lying. He reached out, picked it up with two fingers like it was a dirty napkin. Gave it a little shake in the air. It looked completely ordinary: small, with a golden sheen, no magic flashes or creepy vibrations.

— Alright, game’s over… — he muttered, grabbing his clothes in the other hand, more to himself than to his friends. — Turn me the fuck back...

He gripped the medallion tighter, like he could squeeze a drop of magic out of it. Nothing. No flash, not the tiniest change. Just the cold feel of metal in his palm and its annoyingly light weight — like the damn thing was mocking him.

— FUCK! — Rick threw the clothes onto the couch, spinning around sharply.

— Click! — the sound of a camera shutter suddenly cut through the silence. Mason, who’d been standing quietly by the wall all this time, suddenly raised the camera and snapped another photo.

Rick whirled around on the balls of his bare feet.

— Are you fucking serious, Mason?! — he screamed, almost hysterical. — You JUST fucking took another pic of me?!

— Well… uh… for documentation, you said it yourself… — Mason mumbled awkwardly, already lowering the camera.

— Documentation?! — Rick clenched his fists. — I just almost got full-on boners from my friends, and THAT’S what you decided to capture?!

Mason opened his mouth, but didn’t get a word out.

— We’re gonna go, — Ralph said, starting to back toward the door. Alex was already holding his jacket like staying even one more second might kill him.

— Yeah, of course. — Rick snapped his hand through the air. — Watched the show, now time to go home, huh? The second the “chick” got a little too real — you’re out the fucking door!

— Rick, get over yourself… — Alex muttered and practically ran out of the room, Ralph right behind him, not even glancing back.

Even Mason, who had stuck around the longest, vanished a moment later like he’d evaporated.

— Shit… — Rick exhaled, feeling something warm and awful starting to rise up inside him. He clutched his stomach — a sharp, dull pain flared just below his belly button.

— What the… — he crouched down, gasping, and noticed a red stain appearing between his legs. — Fuck, now this too…

He stared down between his legs, then at the medallion.

— Oh, fuck this! — Rick shouted in rage and, without thinking, hurled the medallion at the window.

The glass trembled from the hit, and a second later the golden disk arched through the air, catching the streetlight, and fell down. Rick dropped to the floor, arms spread out, feeling his stomach throb with pain and his head ready to explode from emotion. He lay there. One second. Two. As if...

— NOOO! — he screamed, suddenly jumping up and running to the window. Down below he saw some random passerby — a fat dude with a beer in hand — leaning down, picking up the medallion and looking at it curiously.

— HEY! DON’T TOUCH THAT! — Rick yelled, sticking his head out the window. — PUT IT BACK, YOU HEAR ME?! HEY, HEY, YOU FUCK!

The man looked up, confused at first about where the yelling was coming from. Then he saw a chick in a crop top screaming out the window… and waved at her with a dumb grin. Then stuffed the medallion in his pocket and walked off.

— NO! FUCK! NO!

Rick bolted from the room, tearing down the hallway like a spaceship dodging asteroids.

— You fuck, get back here! — he was screaming in the stairwell. — You don’t get it, that’s NOT JUST A THING, IT’S A MEDALLION! IT’S… IT’S MINE!

But the man was already turning the corner, completely oblivious to the shouts of a clearly emotionally wrecked girl yelling in the stairwell.