PurpleCatGirl

This is the third installment of our Capsule Plushie series! It's stand-alone, you don't need to read the previous installments to understand what's going on here. But if you'd like to start with the first in the series check out Meow!

I had a smile on my face as I pulled the rig off the road and up the long gravel driveway. I drove past the house and took a wide loop around in the back field, then finally brought the old girl to a halt pointing back out towards the street again.

I set the brakes, killed the motor, then unplugged my laptop from the dash. I unbuckled and climbed into the sleeper to grab my emergency overnight bag. And with that, laptop, and purse in hand I finally opened the door and jumped out.

Nowadays it was a lot farther down from the cab than it ever used to be, but that was just one of a hundred things that brought me joy. Two weeks ago my life completely changed, and I'd spent every day since then thanking whoever or whatever was responsible. I turned around and climbed partway back up so I could reach to swing the door shut, then made sure it was locked.

I gave the truck a quick visual inspection, I'd give it a more thorough look tomorrow to make sure it didn't need any work. And at long last, I turned and headed for the little old bungalow I called home.

I lived on a country road away from the city, though every year it seemed like the city got closer. They were building residential neighbourhoods less than five kilometres away now, but thirty-five years ago when I bought the place it was surrounded by miles and miles of farmland.

Coming around the corner to the front porch I was surprised to find someone there waiting for me. It was a woman, she looked to be in her mid-twenties. Frizzy messy jet-black hair, bright green eyes, fair skin that bordered on pale, she was wearing dark slacks and a loose purple blouse, and comfortable looking low-heeled shoes. I spotted one of those little hybrids parked on the side of the road when I pulled in earlier, I figured it must be hers.

I wasn't much in the mood for company, or at least not with strangers I didn't know. And it felt like this woman had been waiting for me to get home, which didn't bode well either. It was Friday evening and I'd had a long day, at the end of a long week. I really wanted to enjoy some quiet alone time and a bit of dinner.

"Can I help you?" I asked as I approached her and my door.

The woman looked me over, but strangely enough she didn't stare at the tall fuzzy ears sticking out the top of my head. She responded calmly, "I'm looking for a Mr. Hayes, would that be you?"

My mood and my manners both took a steep nosedive, and my nose and long ears all twitched in irritation. I hadn't been misgendered once in the two weeks since everything changed, and considering how I looked the only reason I could think for this woman doing it now was to be deliberately antagonistic.

I glared up at her as I forced myself not to growl or stomp my foot. Instead I demanded, "Do I look like a 'mister'? Do I sound like one? If so you better get your eyes and ears checked lady."

"My apologies," she replied calmly, "My information tells me this is the home of a Mr. Hayes, owner and operator of Jackrabbit Delivery Services Limited."

That wasn't a good enough excuse for me to stop glaring, since I sure as heck didn't look like the Mr. Hayes I was two weeks ago. I motioned her to stand back as I moved to the door and unlocked it, but I didn't invite her in. I left her waiting on the porch while I dumped my stuff on the living-room sofa, then returned to the door again.

"It's Miss Hayes," I stated. "Miss Abby Hayes, and for the record my pronouns are she and her. I'm the new owner operator of Jackrabbit Delivery. Now who are you and why are you on my property?"

She apologized, "I'm sorry Miss Hayes, I didn't want to make assumptions. My name is May Hawthorne, I'd like to talk to you about your recent transformation."

"Are you a reporter?" I asked sharply as I gave her another suspicious look.

She shook her head, "Not at all. In fact I'm here to help you. I'm aware of several people who've been affected by unexplained transformations, and I can fix -"

"Not a gods-damn chance!" I stated, and this time I stomped one of my little feet to underline how I felt. "This is the best damn thing that's ever happened to me, and I won't let anyone take it away!"

May Hawthorne hesitated, "You're happy like this? You don't mind what's happened to you? You don't mind that you're not entirely human anymore?"

I frowned up at her as I replied, "The past two weeks have been the happiest days of my life, and I'd sooner die than go back to the way I was before. Yes, bunny ears tail and all. I'm Abby Hayes, bunnygirl trucker. So far Miss Hawthorne you're the only negative thing that's happened since then."

She looked troubled for a moment as she took a deep breath, then let it out as a quiet sigh.

"Thank you Miss Hayes," she finally responded. "I apologize that we got off on the wrong foot. I came here thinking you needed my help, now I understand I was mistaken."

After a slight pause she asked, "I know this is an awful imposition, but could I come in and talk with you? If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to know the circumstances of your transformation."

I stared up at her for a few seconds then finally sighed, "Aw fine, c'mon in. Are you hungry? I was about to fix myself something to eat."

The woman thanked me as she stepped inside, and I let the screen door swing shut behind her. I led her through to the kitchen at the back, where she took a seat at the small table. I offered her a drink, and she accepted a bottle of spring water. I grabbed one for myself, then got started with the cooking.

I wasn't making anything fancy, pasta from a package, sauce from a jar, and meatballs from the freezer. It was simple but wholesome.

May didn't say anything but I could feel her eyes on me as I used my new step stool to reach stuff in the higher shelves of the pantry, and to get the meatballs out of the freezer. Having to use a step stool was one of those things that took me a day to get used to, but I didn't mind. It made me smile half the time, being another reminder of how small and cute I was now.

"So would you mind telling me what happened?" she asked as she sipped her water.

I shrugged, "Yeah ok. Give us something to talk about while I'm working on dinner."

After a deep breath I started sharing my story while I continued getting our food organized.

• • • • •

It was half past eight on a Friday night, and I was beat. As an independent owner-operator I had a pretty good gig, five days a week I ran a regular haul from a factory in the west end of Toronto to a depot in Windsor. I had another regular customer for the return trip, an importer in Windsor shipped stuff back to a distributor north of Toronto. Monday through Friday I was behind the wheel of my own rig, hauling goods back and forth along the 401.

It's the kind of work that folks either loved or hated. I was the first kind. Alone in my cab it was just me and the road. Well, and all the other rigs, and the countless four-wheelers getting in our way. Most days it didn't bother me though. I'd put my music on and I'd be fine. In my own world as it were.

Except traffic had been getting steadily worse the past few years. Fridays were always bad, and today was the worst I'd seen it in ages. There'd been a massive pile-up west of London that took three hours to get around. I barely made it to my delivery in Windsor before they closed. And the place where I picked up in that town would have been closed, but luckily the shipper and I were friends and he hung around an extra forty-five minutes so I could get loaded up that night. Otherwise I'd have been screwed all weekend and into Monday.

The downside was I didn't get on the road for my trip back to Toronto until way too late. All I really wanted was to head home for the weekend, I wasn't even really on the clock anymore. But I'd gone over on hours for the day, and if I got caught at an inspection I'd get fined or worse and I really couldn't afford that.

So all I could do was pull into the next truck stop and take my downtime in the sleeper behind me. I kept an emergency overnight back back there just in case, so it's not like I wasn't prepared. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't quite home. And it wasn't how I wanted to spend my Friday night.

I was eastbound coming up on Chatham and I knew there was a decent truck stop there. So when I saw the exit ahead I put on the signals and pulled off the highway. As I drove into the big truckers' lot I passed by a dozen other rigs parked in there, and grinned as I recognized one of them.

My old buddy Grey was another owner-operator, he tended to do longer hauls and didn't have a regular route like me. It meant we didn't get to see each other face to face that often, but we talked on the radio when we got the chance. We also emailed each other regularly, and usually managed a phone call two or three times a month. He was my closest friend, and the two of us had a lot more in common than just being a couple old independent truckers.

Once I had my rig parked I grabbed the mic and gave him a call, but didn't hear back from him. I figured he was probably in the restaurant getting a bite, or making use of the facilities. So I sent him a text instead to let him know I was around, then left my rig and headed over to the building.

It wasn't much, but they had decent washrooms, a fast-food burger joint, coffee shop, and a convenience store. I used the washroom then grabbed a burger and soda. I checked my phone but Grey hadn't got back to me yet, and I didn't see him around inside. That left one more option, he was probably asleep in his rig.

He had a sleeper cab like me, and I knew he kept some odd hours. It wouldn't be that unusual for him to pull off and sleep through rush hour and dinner, then get back on the road after dark and drive through the night.

After my meal, such as it was, I headed back out to my truck. I was only about halfway there when I spotted a strange young woman standing next to Grey's rig, waving at me. I headed on over, frowning as I looked the woman up and down.

She was attractive, but a little different. I figured she was in her early twenties, but her hair was a light silver-grey colour. Her eyes were amber, and her face was rather stunningly attractive. She looked familiar though, and I was left wondering if this was Grey's daughter. I knew he had a couple kids, but he'd been divorced for over a decade and I'd never met any of his family.

Beyond the hair and eyes and the familiar face, the most striking thing about this woman was the ears. And the tail.

She had a pair of pointy ears sticking up on top of her head, coated in short grey fur the same colour as her hair. They looked like what you'd see on a big dog, or a wolf. And a long fuzzy grey tail was sticking out the back, above the waist of her shorts and below her t-shirt.

The shorts looked like something my buddy Grey would wear, though the pair this young woman had on looked brand-new. And they were definitely a lot smaller than anything my friend could squeeze into. The style was similar though, charcoal grey cargo shorts with loads of pockets. Her tee was pink, which was a colour Grey would never be caught dead in. Not in public anyways.

After a few seconds I gave my head a shake and apologized, "Sorry for staring miss. What can I do for you? Are you riding with Grey?"

She gave me a wide excited smile and replied, "Hey Rabbit, I've been looking forward to seeing you all week. You ain't gonna believe it old friend, but it's me. I'm Grey."

"Right," I laughed. "You're right, I don't believe it. Good gag though. You're his little girl, right?"

The young woman giggled and shook her head, then gestured "C'mon! Let's go have a seat over there, you and I need to have a talk."

There were a couple picnic tables way off under some trees away from the parking lot, and that's where this strange young lady was leading me. I didn't really know what to make of the situation, but I was positive she was Grey's daughter so I followed along while my mind raced to figure out what this was really all about.

For a moment I had a bit of panic, that something happened to Grey. Maybe he took ill, maybe he failed a physical and had to retire. Except if this girl was his daughter she didn't seem the least bit worried or concerned about her old man, and that told me there wasn't anything serious going on. So I was back to thinking it was some kind of gag.

The two of us sat down across from each other at one of the picnic tables. The young lady had a smug grin on her face a she looked me up and down, while I found myself staring at those ears again. I knew they had to be fake, but the damn things were moving around on their own, twisting and turning to focus on noises from the highway and the truck stop.

"So what's going on?" I asked. "Who are you, where's Grey hiding? Are you driving his rig for him?"

She leaned forward and in a quiet voice replied, "My name's Rachel. I first told you that name about seven years ago, when the two of us were sitting at another truck stop. That's when I came out to you. I told you that stuff about me because I saw a lot of myself in you. And a week later the two of us met up again and you told me I was right. You told me you'd wished for the same sorts of things I did, but like me you put all that out of your head. The other thing you told me was your name, that you always wanted to be called Abby."

By that point my blood had turned to ice water and my gut was full of lead. That pretty young lady was telling me stuff me and Grey swore to take to our graves. And even though the conversations she was talking about happened some years back, I still remembered them like it was yesterday.

I'd never forget the gut-twisting emotions I felt when she came out to me, and that week I agonized over it and spent every night reading and researching before I finally accepted the truth. She was right, I was trans, just like her.

PurpleCatGirl

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