Lost Things

"I could really use a trim for summer. My hair is dripping out here."

Edgar glanced at his girlfriend, Denise, as she batted sweat away from her full, tan locks. She'd had her hair lightened a few times and it had once almost come out gray. To his surprise, she wasn't mortified. She actually kept it for a few weeks, remarking, "If you live long enough, everyone goes gray eventually."

He flicked a few beads from his own, close-cropped dirty-blond "lawn" (as Denise liked to call it) and pulled her in for a wobbling hug as they walked. She was as sweaty as him with a sheen across her freckled, lightly-tanned face. She pulled up her lavender tank with a soft flash of her tummy and checked her tight jeans. 

Edgar regretted his stark-black shirt choice with the sun intensely blasting their eyes but at least his camo-green shorts flapped against his most sensitive areas. It was not the sort of day for a long walk but they didn't have a choice. 

Their car had been dropped off at the shop for a part which was literally only a few bucks but they were at the end of a long line of repairs. On this harsh, stifling morning all of Denise's friends were already at work. Edgar knew several folks online but they were too far away to help. The neighbors were also busy. Uber was for over the hills and the still-festering local yellow cab company quoted a price that made Edgar blanch. 

Sure, they could wait at a bus stop but Denise's stomach sung for a late breakfast. And she almost seemed excited to be out walking in such a sandy, harsh expanse, noting, "I enjoy the sun and it's not as bad as it's gonna get. We can take the bus after some food." 

Her energetic, optimistic words kept them both going at a steady pace for the first mile. The drivers dashing and roaring by did get some dirty looks but Denise passed the time talking about vegetables. She'd done a little garden for the last few years since they met, fitting a box in a warm corner on their apartment porch.

The citrus died an inglorious death but the tomatoes survived a wilt and the seasoning plants and alfalfa flourished under her care. She ruffled her hair again, moistening some gravel-covered stones at her feet. 

"I actually liked you had it short when we first met. It flipped and fooped around. Like it had springs," Edgar remarked with a grin.

Denise returned a smirking glance and responded, "I thought you wanted it longer and cuter. Man, I better hack it off quick so it can be all foopy again."

Edgar chuckled. "Oh yeah. Meeeroow." 

She broke down in giggles as they found their way back to a stretch of wind-scoured pavement. By the side of the road, someone had dumped a broken lawn chair and some animal had raked its claws through the fabric. Denise scoffed, "Geez, not your trash dump. Although maybe we can find some good loot."

She scanned ahead over the unbroken expanse of sand, gravel, skeletal prickly bushes, and the occasional emaciated "tree". The sun gnashed at her eyes. 

Edgar quipped, "No sofas. Not even perfect ones which only have two snakes nesting in them."

"Deal!" Denise giggled and hurried along, counting the cracks in the pavement as they gave way to tall, biting weeds that hunched over on themselves. 

Shaking her clothes, Denise paused for Edgar to catch up as she explained, "I used to just drive way out and look for the good stuff. Sometimes you lose stuff out in the desert though and it's...it's kind of a bitch to get it back. Or you make do. Whatever. I totally want a croissant."

Frowning at how she hustled through her words, Edgar only answered, "Alright, sweetie."

Still far from the next stretch of strip malls and megastores, like habitation domes on this hostile expanse, they came upon a disheveled couch with some clothes dangling off loose, exposed springs. At the center rested a pristine pair of leather suspenders which looked like they had been abandoned no more than a few minutes ago.

With a deep gasp, Denise exclaimed, "My gosh! Those are so cute! We gotta keep those! We gotta! I gotta try them on. Do you think they'll look cute on me?" She fluttered her fair-blue eyes at him. 

Edgar chuckled. "You go for it. I think they'll look great on you even though your pants seem pretty secure." He quickly inspected the seat of them with a smile. 

Dashing over, Denise lifted up the suspenders and held them against her chest. She remarked, "The button ones are best but I think I can get these on. Hope they don't look too weird but whatever."

Folding his arms, Edgar watched as his girlfriend fiddled with the attachments. He offered to help but she assured him it was fine. After a bit of twisting and smoothing, the suspenders were in place. She pulled at them and announced, "Brits love these but I think they call them braces. What do you think?"

Holding his chin, Edgar reflected. He was about to quip when Denise's face shifted. The soft, feminine lines hardened into tough, sun-stretched creases. Her small nose jutted and nearly doubled. Meaty flesh puffed under her chin and her fair hair lost even more color for a tangled, tough band of nearly-white locks. Below, her chest nearly swelled the tank to breaking.

But, before it could snap, the material spread outwards into a button-up purple shirt that covered her whole chest. The curves of her breasts flattened until a slight wiggle was all that remained. Broad arms with fair tufts of hair swelled from the sleeves. Her stomach started to bloat, a gut spreading over the top of her pants. The slim, snug pair loosened mercifully to allow the expanse of her belly as real age and fading distressed the material. Instead of her black boots, a rugged, brown pair that matched the color of the suspenders surrounded her big feet.

Where was once a woman in her thirties, now stood a fat but rugged man nearly twice that age. A scruffy, snowy beard spread over Denise's face as he staggered back and inspected himself.

Edgar was at a loss for words. Denise took a deep breath and slowly smiled. With a big, clear voice, he announced, "Heck yeah! Shoot! That's where I lost my masculinity! It took forever to find the blasted thing! Was it in these damned suspenders the whole time? How did they get in a place like this? They were straight-up gone. And they're the same ones! They have to be!"

He spun around a few times and laughed deeply. "All that girly shit is gone! No more bras, thank god! No more lady crap. And oooh...it's all back. I...oh...hmm...hey...." He paused in place, looking at Edgar. His eyes flicked away nervously before carefully returning. "This uh...this might take some explanation."

His hands on his head, Edgar gazed at what used to be his girlfriend. Clearing his throat, the old man explained, "So, totally honest, my birth name was Buster. I owned a farm ages ago. Then, one day, I was just scrounging around and I lost, well, everything. I was a pretty young lady, terrified, no idea what to do but I managed. I had given up I could ever be myself again but...here I am. Uh, p-please say something..."

Edgar looked Buster up and down. A whole huge part of his brain was in disaster mode with little people screaming and running for the hills but, despite the wrinkles around them, those same fair-blue eyes stared back at him, as they had on many a late night when Denise tried to get to sleep and just needed to talk for a bit. 

Buster cocked his head and clutched his hands. Slowly, Edgar smirked and said, "You know...those suspenders do make you look cuter. Merrroooowww..."

Bursting out in the heartiest laugh, Buster wiped the sweat and quick tears from his eyes. "Oh, Edgar, you absolute sweetie. You crazy, wonderful man. I could kiss you all night."

Reaching out, Edgar put his arms around friendly but unfamiliar shoulders as he remarked, "I'll hold you to that." The two embraced, as they had often done, and kissed softly. Edgar's body still flashed with alarm but he looked at Buster, feeling the smiles, the long nights, and all the warm words. 

He nodded when Buster admitted, "This is probably gonna be a little weird though." Edgar assured him immediately, "It'll be alright. Now about breakfast. Do you still like croissants?"

Flashing a few teeth, Buster pressed, "Love them. All the time, anytime."

Stepping away from Buster, Edgar turned to keep walking but his shoe caught on some gravel. Staggering, he reached for the ragged couch and clung to the top as he got the wind knocked out of him.

Coughing, he first brushed back a bright wall of blond locks before he realized what was wrong. Trying to find the least-broken part of the couch, Edgar looked down at his...her body. The black top was gone. He didn't miss it. A white tank, nearly as slim as Denise's, revealed her lean shoulders and sudden, quivering bust. The swells in the material excited an unfamiliar, intimate part of her. She pressed her legs together as she realized her belted, short skirt (with the same camo-tone as the shorts) was flashing her lower-half right at Buster, who wore a sly smile. 

"My goodness, I guess it is easy to lose yourself around these parts."

Edgar spared Buster a dirty glare and a poke of her slender tongue. With both arms, Buster helped her to her feet. They pressed into one another, their bodies so close that Edgar's eyes immediately flicked to a surprising, immense sensation just beyond Buster's broad belly. Though older, she could tell he was clearly a big man in every sense of the phrase.

She didn't push him away. Rather, she shifted in his grasp and looked at the little dot of the far-off strip mall. Cars had passed on either side but none had stopped or honked or done anything. Clearly too eager for gambling in Vegas to notice such a spectacle. 

Glancing at the same, far-off destination, Buster asked, "Well...so do you think you still like croissants too?"

Leaning on Buster, Edgar answered, "Well, a lot has changed but I'm willing to try anything." Buster kissed her full on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his head to hold him there. They leaned back and looked at each other before smiling.

They were both sweaty, mostly due to the sun's relentless assault. With a breath, Edgar urged, "We better get out of the sun before I burn. I'm fairer than you." Buster nodded and looked at the pile of junk as he adjusted his suspenders. "Did you drop anything important...aside from the obvious...in that tumble?"

Edgar felt around her body but shrugged. "I'm sure we can look for it later or it'll show up somewhere. Come on." She strode ahead in her slim shoes.

Buster admired Edgar as her hips swung and her behind swished her skirt from side to side. He noted, "You know, you should probably get a trim for summer. Gonna be even hotter. And you're gonna have to think about names. Granted that took me a long time."

Edgar laughed and walked backwards, facing Buster. "I think I like it long. I just need some ties. And I already have a name picked out but you're gonna have to gueeeesss it."