The idea came to me, as all great ideas do, while I was stoned out of my gourd.

“Hey Dani…” I said to my girlfriend as I handed her the bowl. We were presently sitting on the balcony of our apartment, on a couple of folding chairs, sharing our last gram of weed.

She flicked her lighter and took a puff before responding. “Yeah?”

“You know I was fretting about potentially coming out to my parents, right?”

She nodded. “Yeahhh… you were worried because they’re, like, hyper-conservative, right?”

“Uh-huh.” My parents, loving and goofy as they were, also fell hard onto the right side of the political spectrum. I wanted to believe this was due to ignorance, not malevolence, but maybe that was my predilection to always assume the best about my family. Needless to say, when I’d moved across town to attend university and properly started my gender transition, I’d kept them in the dark even after coming out to all my friends and schoolmates. Hell, even my pastor knew! My parents were the big exception, and every time I thought about telling them my stomach twisted in knots. What if they hated me? What if they disowned me?

“Sarah… babe…” Dani said, leaning forwards and handing the bowl back to me. “You don’t have to tell them, you know? Especially if you think it’s gonna hurt you.”

“But wait!” I cried, flinging my arms wide. “I have a brilliant plan! What if I tell them… that Starbucks did this to me?”

Dani’s jaw hung open. “I… WHAT?!”

“It’s like a big conspiracy theory among conservatives! There was someone who posted on Twitter about how they were slipping estrogen pills into Starbucks drinks to feminize people, and all the nutjob types started frothing at the mouth!” I explained.

“Babe, I know I’m baked right now, but there is no way that’s real,” Dani said, folding her arms.

“No, it really is! Look!” I took another quick puff, then pulled out my phone and clumsily googled ‘Starbucks estrogen.’ Well, actually, first I googled ‘Starboobs estrus’ because weed does not do any favors to my hand-eye coordination, but I got it right the second time. That’s what matters.

I pulled up a news story on the conspiracy and handed my phone, carefully, to Dani, who grasped it after only three attempts. With her face lit from below by the phone screen, she spent a solid two minutes rereading the same paragraph over and over, then looked up at me in astonishment. Having had adequate time to process the information, she delivered unto me her measured, well-considered response.

“Whoa.”

“I know, right? Whoaaaaaa,” I echoed.

“Imagine if that was, like, REAL though! That would be crazy! Remember that one drink they had that was in the trans flag colors or whatever?”

I responded without a moment’s delay. “The Unicorn Frappuccino!”

“PFFT,” she snorted. “Of course you remember it, you bought a bunch of them. What if that drink like, secretly transed people’s gender? Like if you eat anything that’s sugary and pink and blue, BAM! GENDERSWAP! And by the time you realize, it’s too late to do anything about it?”

“EXACTLY!” I exclaimed. “That’s what I’m gonna tell my parents! My gender was secretly transed by Starbucks!”

“Do you think they’ll buy it, though?”

I tilted my head in confusion. “What, buy me more Starbucks?”

“No, clown, buy your story! Even for a conspiracy theory, it’s kind of a reach.”

I grinned confidently. “Oh, they totally will. They’re big into wackos like Alex Jones or Rush Limbaugh. They’ll believe anything if I frame it properly.”

“Hang on…” Dani said, her eyes becoming distant with thought for a moment before snapping back to me. “Isn’t Rush Limbaugh dead?”

“What? No way! Is he? I feel like I would have heard about that!” I grabbed my phone off her lap and frantically googled ‘Russian Lesbians,’ followed by ‘Rush Limburger,’ then finally ‘Rush Limbaugh.’

“Unreal! He died in February!” I said in childlike wonder.

Dani stuck out her tongue. “Told ya. Actually, isn’t Alex Jones dead too?”

I rolled my eyes. “No way. Dude’s like a cockroach. He’ll never die!”

The rest of our indica-infused evening was spent snuggling on the couch while frantically googling various celebrities and political figures, trying to determine who was dead or not, until we wound up giggling madly at the silly names of the people who signed the Declaration of Independence. Did you know there was a legitimate historical figure, with portraits and everything, named Button Gwinnett?!

Wild.

******

Even after I sobered up, that idea stuck in my head, in the ‘just crazy enough it might work’ sense. And sure enough, when I found myself driving across town to visit my parent’s house on a long holiday weekend…

“Hey kiddo, how ya been?” my mom exclaimed, pulling me into a big bear hug. My hoodie insulated me from her strong arms; she worked as a professional welder, so her grip was plenty powerful.

“F-Fine…” I responded nervously. I was determined to go through with my plan, despite the butterflies in my stomach hammering away at my nerves with power tools.

“Everything okay?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twisting downwards with worry. My mom had always been well-attuned to my moods.

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, everything’s great, it’s just… I need to talk with you and Dad about something.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Something?”

I nodded silently, studying the plush carpeting intently.

She turned towards the kitchen door and called out, “ALEX!” loud enough to make me wince.

“What is it, Marianne?” My father, dressed in flannel and jeans as usual, poked his head out; he burst into a huge smile when he saw me. “Hey there, kiddo!”

“Hey…”

“He wants to talk to use about something,” my mom explained. “Are you at a good stopping point in making dinner?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping fully out of the kitchen; I noticed his jeans were covered in a dusting of flour. “The potatoes got about twenty more minutes of boiling before I gotta mash ‘em, and the chicken-fried steak is just cooling on the rack. What’s up?”

With both my parents’ eyes boring into me, I damn near chickened out… but managed to power through. You can do this, Sarah. Just stick to the Starbucks, like you planned.

“We should, uh… sit down for this.” I said, clenching my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

******

My parents sat on the big plush sofa, looking nervously at me, and I took a seat opposite them in the recliner.

“So, uh…” I began, wishing desperately I hadn’t forgotten my fidget cube back in my apartment, “I’ve… I’ve…”

“Just take it slow, kiddo,” my dad said encouragingly. “We love you, no matter what you have to tell us.”

I nodded. “Right, so… I have something important to tell you both. I’ve been drinking a lot of Starbucks lately.”

The tension in the room popped like a water balloon, dousing all three of us in pure liquid incredulity. I literally could not believe I had just said that. But in for a penny…

“Starbucks?” my mom asked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You remember that news story from a few years back, where a Starbucks employee was slipping estrogen pills into drinks?”

“I do!” my dad said, half-leaping out of his chair. “I read about it on Facebook! Some pinko commie homo was sneaking estrogen into drinks to try and feminize fine, upstanding American men!”

“Oh, c’mon now,” my mom said skeptically. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It’s true,” my dad said with utmost confidence. “I know because I read it on the internet.”

My mom and I exchanged A Look, before I remembered I needed them to believe this tall tale. “No, it’s actually true!” I said desperately. “I know because, well, because…”

My dad plopped back down on the couch, and both parents stared at me expectantly. It was the moment of truth… metaphorically speaking. Slowly, I unzipped my hoodie and pulled it off, eliciting gasps from both of my parents.

I’d been on spiro and estrogen for about three years now, and the results had been fantastic. I had pronounced breasts, just below a C-cup, and my body fat had redistributed to give me thick thighs and a juicy ass. I’m not being narcissistic; Dani told me how juicy my ass was on a daily basis. I’d let my brown hair grow long enough to reach my mid-back, and it was wavy and silky-smooth thanks to my haircare regimen. My face was softer and rounder, and every molecule of stubble (and all my body hair besides) had long ago been blasted away by lasers. I’d been hiding these changes from my parents by dressing in baggy clothes whenever I visited them, but I made no such effort now; I now wore a tight pink sleeveless blouse that accentuated my breasts and curves both, and matched the pink shade of my nails.

“Holy CRAP!” my dad exclaimed, leaning forwards. “Starbucks did THAT to you?!”

I nodded. “I usually go to the one near the university, so I guess one of the college kids working there slipped estrogen pills into the drinks, just like that news story said.”

“Oh my God!” my mom gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “It’s true, it’s all true! I knew that secular university was a den of iniquity! We should have sent you to a nice Christian college like we’d originally planned!”

It took every ounce of my energy to keep from rolling my eyes. I’d specifically insisted upon a public university so I’d have the freedom to pursue my transition, and it had been a sore point between me and my parents for a while. I sincerely hoped this little revelation didn’t reopen those old wounds. “Yeah, well… it’s a moot point, I guess? Like, before I realized it was even happening, BOOM! I’m a girl!”

My father stroked his beard thoughtfully. “How you holding up, kiddo? Are the, uh, changes giving you any dysphoria?”

I bluescreened for a moment upon learning my father knew the term ‘dysphoria’ before realizing he’d raised a good point; if I’d indeed been a cisgender guy suddenly force-femmed by Starbucks, I probably would be experiencing a significant amount of dysphoria; it’s not like cis guys went around wishing they were girls, after all. I racked my rebooting brain to try and counter my dad’s surprise insightfulness.

“No, I’m not having any dysphoria, because of… radio waves…” I muttered.

My mom did that thing where she squints with one eye and opens the other wide. “Radio waves?”

“Yeah…” I fumbled, “the Starbucks is broadcasting radio waves that, uh, brainwashed my brain into thinking girly thoughts, I guess?”

“OH!” shouted my dad, leaping up again. “I remember hearing about this! MKULTRA developed a method to beam radio waves into tooth fillings! They would cause teeth to broadcast subliminal messages!”

I stared at him, shocked my limp excuse had managed to convince him, and amazed he’d even built upon it. For the first time in my life, I blessed his oblivious adherence to conspiracy theories. “Yeah, that’s exactly right. So my brain is a girl now too, along with my body.” I winced at how poorly I’d phrased that last bit, but I was operating on equal parts nervousness and disbelief.

“It makes sense,” my dad mused. “Starbucks is probably working with the deep state on this feminization thing. They’re even hiding obvious messaging in their products! Remember that drink they released that looked like the transgendered flag a few years ago?”

“The Unicorn Frappucino, yeah,” I responded. “Wait, how do you know what the trans flag looks like?”

“Your dad is very intelligent,” he said proudly, tapping his temple. “Nothing escapes my steel vise of a mind.”

I gave a tiny snort, but fortunately they didn’t seem to hear it. This was going both far better and far worse than I’d ever anticipated.

“So what you’re saying is,” my mom mused, “your body was feminized by Starbucks drinks, and your brain was feminized by CIA radio waves?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the elevator pitch,” I responded, kneading my hands into my thighs.

“Sounds logical to me,” she said, nodding resolutely. “So, is there a way to reverse it?”

“To be honest, I’m not really sure I want to,” I said. “Maybe this is the brainwashing talking, but I’m just gonna stay as a girl, I think. I’ve been having a lot of fun with, well, the cute frilly blouses and skirts, you know? And makeup, makeup is fun.”

“Oh no, you really are a girl now! Our poor, poor son!” she wailed, leaping off the couch to embrace me.

“Daughter,” I corrected her.

“Our poor, poor daughter!” she amended, holding me way too tightly. “Even if Starbucks turned you into a girl, we still love you!”

“That’s right, kiddo,” my dad said, joining the hug. “So… do you, like, have a different name you prefer?”

“I’ve been going by Sarah.”

“Ooh, that’s lovely!” my mom gushed. “You know, if you’d been born a girl, we were planning on naming you Sarah!”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m aware,” I responded flatly. They probably didn’t remember, but I’d asked them that question many times when I was younger.

My father pulled back from the hug and narrowed his eyes. “Wait, does this mean you’re attracted to boys now?”

“Uh… no, I’m still attracted to girls,” I responded. “Dani and I are still together. I guess the radio waves turned me gay too?”

“I KNEW IT!” he growled, pounding his fist into his palm. “The gay agenda is behind all of this! They won’t rest until America has been transformed into a new Sodom and Gomorrah!”

“Riiiiight. So to summarize, I’m a girl now, and I’m gay. So are you two, like… cool with that?”

My dad shrugged. “Sure, kiddo, it’s fine. It’s not your fault the gay agenda sunk their sinful talons into you. And well, it could be worse, right? At least you’re not a filthy Communist!”

I bit my lip hard, deciding to leave that discussion for another time, and forced a smile.

Amazingly, the rest of the night went great. My parents mostly respected my new name and pronouns, and when they slipped up I easily corrected them. Thank God they were both so incredibly, lovably dense.

The mashed potatoes wound up cooking for too long and came out mealy, but that dinner was still the most delicious I’d ever eaten in my life.

******

“They actually bought it?!” Dani exclaimed in pure shock. We were having lunch in a small café, between our morning and afternoon classes, when I relayed my coming out story to her.

“I’m just as surprised!” I said, in between bites of watercress sandwich. “It was a long shot, but somehow it all went great!”

Dani planted her face in her palm for a moment, before spreading her fingers apart and staring at me through them. “Babe, I say this with the utmost respect, but… you do realize you’re not supposed to take weed-inspired ideas seriously, right? Remember that time I stopped you from buying a fondue set?”

I folded my arms and pouted. “I still think we should have gotten that fondue set.”

“We don’t need a fondue set,” she groaned. “Like you’re gonna cook fondue when you’re blitzed.”

“I’m just saying!” I protested. “We can melt the cheese before we smoke, and the fondue pot will keep it warm for us, and then when we get the munchies… BAM! We have fondue!”

“Babe, NO. Those little fork things are deadly, especially when you’re high. Just eat Mallomars like every other stoner. More importantly, I literally cannot believe you told your parents that Starbucks, Starbucks of all the damn things, transed your gender!”

I shrugged. “Yeah, it was a silly idea, but it worked! No harm no foul, right?”

“What if they figure it out, though? It’s a pretty far-out story, right? Like, imagine your mom talking to one of her buddies at the shop, ‘Oh guess what, Starbucks turned my son into a girl,’ and the dude goes ‘No fucking way, that’s an urban legend’ and one trip to Snopes later, your whole story falls apart? Aren’t you concerned about the consequences if they discover your lie?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Pshaw, you worry too much. My parents are so dense, they’ll never figure it out.”

She shook her head. “Never say never, babe.”

“Oh, quit worrying. It’ll be fine.”

******

A few weeks later, I stopped by my parent’s house again for a surprise visit. My dad, wrist-deep in making some pizza dough from scratch, wiped his hands on his apron and greeted me with his usual hug.

“Hey there, Sarah! I wasn’t expecting you. Been well?”

“Yup!” I responded cheerfully, delighted he was using my name without hesitation. “A bit stressed about finals, but that’s just college life for ya.” After extricating myself from his hug, I flopped down on the sofa. “Is Mom out?”

“She’s working late, yeah. Actually, since it’s just the two of us, there’s something I wanted to ask you…” he said, suddenly sounding nervous.

I sat up and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“So you know how you said you got… uh… feminized by Starbucks, right?”

My stomach dropped and my brain catastrophized. Had Dani been right? Was the gig up? Had he seen through my lie? Was he going to call me out on being one of those filthy transgenders that the talk show radio hosts warned about?

“Yeah…” I responded carefully.

“So I was thinking about that, and…” He wrung his hands together, and a faint blush tinged his cheeks, barely visible underneath his beard. “Can you tell me which Starbucks it was?”

“I… WHAT?!”

As I stared at my blushing, fidgeting parent, who had just asked me something I would have considered unthinkable mere moments ago, my brain ceased to form cogent thoughts and my jaw hung slack.

“I’m just, y’know, curious…” he stammered.

I blinked, and my brain finally figured out how to form words again, albeit not very eloquently. A single thought bounced around my head as I realized the can of worms I’d just unintentionally opened.

Uh-oh.