The grumbling in the little boy’s tummy was too much. He started scarfing down the nachos.
“Damn, kid! You really were hungry!” Patricia chuckled, “Same here. Never thought fried oysters would be my bag, but hey! Fortune favors the bold! How ‘bout that corndog, Quin? Had to have been good if you were sticking the whole thing in your mouth at once!”
“Uhmm… Quincy feel funny,” Quin murmured in a fairly feminine voice. Feminine for a boy anyway.
“Funny like how, babe?” Patricia noticed, “Also, did you just call yourself Quincy! Isn’t your name Quintus?”
“What?! N-no!” the soft boy insisted, “Quincy’s name is Quincy! Wh-what are you-”
“Oh-ho! I think I see the problem,” Patricia smirked, “Your little friend needs some attention!”
“L-little friend? Quincy don’t know what you’re… wh-why are you staring at Quincy’s…” The girl turned boy suddenly realized what was going on. Quin turned into a boy, and her boy body had a hard-on. “Oh… oh no!”
“It’s no big deal, babe,” Patricia assured, “We’ll just find someplace private to take care of it. I could use something to wash down the oysters anyway.”
“GAH! No!” Quin cried, “This is all wrong! We’re both the wrong sex! Quincy’s supposed to be a girl! You’re supposed to be a boy! How did… The corndog! What’s this food stall called again?”
“Gender Bender Grub,” Claude answered through a mouthful of queso and chips, “I can read! What does gender mean?”
“Gender is the difference between whether you call yourself a boy or a girl,” Patricia explained, “There’s a whole bunch of other genders besides those two, and it usually has nothing to do with what sex you were born with. Well, maybe that’s a wrong way of putting it. I’m still trying to figure it all out, but I do try to respect people’s identity. Like how you told us you were neither, right?”
“Wh-wha… now hold on!” Quin insisted, “Didn’t Claude tell us he was a boy not even five minutes ago?” The moment he said those words, an empty soda bottle bonked him on the side of the head from out of nowhere. A distant voice shouted at him for dead-gendering someone.
“Hold on,” Claude patted between their legs, only to find nothing there but a smoothed over crotch with a little urethra. They gulped. “Uhh… guys? I think the food here changes our genders!”
Quin’s eyes lit up with realization. “Of course! How could Quincy not see it! Patri-… no, Pete! We gotta order more food!”
“Dude, how hungry are you?” Patricia asked, “And didn’t I already tell you that I don’t like that nickname?”
“Oh what, would you rather Quincy called you 5932-12 instead?” Quin said, uncharacteristically catty.
“Hey! I told you that in confidence!” Patricia wailed, “Fine. I’ll get more. You want another corndog?”
“No. Quincy wants to try those fried oysters,” Quin insisted, “You eat the corndog!”
“I… I don’t like pork,” Patricia admitted, “Ever since I learned that pork is the closest tasting thing to human, it’s squicked me out.”
“Oh… Pete, Quincy didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” Patricia shook her head, “I just never needed to bring it up before. M-maybe I’ll try the… Futa Fried Chicken, what?”
“May I have a corndog instead?” Claude asked, “I finished my nachos.”
“Oh, Quincy gets it!” the former Quim realized, “Non-Binary Nachos! They made Claude into an enbie! That’s interesting!”
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Patricia rolled her eyes, returning with their second order of food, “It’s just fair food. Here you go, gang, and don’t worry about the texture of those oysters too much babe. They’re delicious once you get past that.”
——///——
“This is so unfair!” a younger Dr. Steinberg wailed, this one barely older than 18, “Ohh… Quincy where are you! You’re making me really worried! I’m so worried I might vom!”