Simon had always been a soft-spoken lad: maybe he was just born that way. But maybe this was one time that he should’ve spoken louder and clearer.
When the old gypsy woman at the county fair had promised to fulfill one wish for five dollars, Simon had been thrilled. Only five bucks?! Who got deals like that nowadays? So he’d blurted: “I wish for a Bond girl,” not realizing that the old lady was hard of hearing and that she’d actually heard: “I wish I was born a girl.” “Wish granted, laddie,” she’d said, waggling her fingers at him, “Wait and see.” So Simon went home, five bucks poorer but full of visions of grandeur.
When he awoke the next morning, however, Simon felt a bunch of weird sensations: soft hair tugging at the nape of his neck, a slight tugging feeling of fabric rubbing his chest, and a slippery feeling down in his private area. “Wha—what is this?” he said in a soft feminine voice as he sat up and looked at his room, which was completely reconfigured: drawers and dressers where he’d previously stored his X-Box and TV monitor; and a shoe rack of…high heels?!
“Breakfast is ready, Sibyl,” his mother called from downstairs. Simon softly gulped and swung his legs off the bed, feeling his breasts jiggle as he stood up. Was he Sibyl now? He felt down in his groin area: yep, he was definitely female. He’d been born a girl.