Eduardo Rodriguez wasn’t having a good day. Unlike the waitresses at VonBurger’s, he was paid by the hour. So even though the restaurant was all but dead, he was still getting his paycheck. Even when he was working like shit, he was still drawing his measly salary.
It really wasn’t a good salary. Eduardo was an ex-felon, though, so his options were limited. Places didn’t like hiring guys with records. Especially not guys with a history of violence and gang-related activities.
Eduardo flexed his arms, the muscles bouncing.
He’d done his time, worked out, got big and strong. When he was released, he’d expected a little pushback, but he hadn’t realized how much the world had changed in the fifteen years he’d been gone. Pronouns and other bullshit. The chicas were less interested in him now, thanks to the wrinkles lining his face.
But he’d paid his dues, he should have found a decent job. He’d gotten a degree in prison (there was nothing else to do, honestly). But not a single person would hire him. Not with the gang tats and the tear tattoos running down his eyes. Thankfully, the authorities hadn’t known about the murders, couldn’t pin them on him. But what the tears meant-some filled in, others not-were pretty common knowledge.
No teaching jobs available for him.
The only places left were Jack Ronald’s and some car shop. Both paid next to nothing. He needed real money. Eduardo had learned to cook when he was in prison and worked in the cafeteria. So, he parleyed that, trying to get a chef’s job in the local restaurants.
And it just so happened that this one had just had their head chef quit.
The guy running it hadn’t even run a background check. Eduardo thought he was intimidated by the muscular Mexican. That fear…he liked it. Sure, the girls didn’t like it when he grabbed their plush asses, but what the fuck were they gonna do? He had seniority and no one else was lining up to work here.
The last time a Belp reviewer came here they said their watercress salad wasn’t fresh. As if he could control how often people ate that stupid salad! Of course the ingredients were going to sit in the freezer for a while.
The restaurant didn’t fare well on other fronts, either. Having a 2.1 on boondoggle reviews was like the kiss of death. Business had dried up ever since. For some strange reason though, like out of a cheesy zombie movie, people just kept pouring in today. Eduardo had no idea what was going on.
Yeah, what the hell was going on with this restaurant? Since when do restaurants have sit-down customers, a drive through, AND a drive-in? What a mess. Eduardo could’ve sworn that the restaurant’s crusty old décor hadn’t been renovated for years, but now the joint looked like a brand-new 50s throwback.
Andnow he was experiencing the mother of all lunch rushes. Since when?
The worst part about all this, though, was that he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to cook all of these orders! They kept coming in and coming in. Eduardo was starting to feel overwhelmed. It was like one of those terrible dreams where you’re in a class taking a test, but the material is based off of some book that you’ve never read before.
The straw that broke the camel’s back, though, was when Eduardo was asked to make a “Happiness Meal”. What the fuck? What’s next, he was going to be forced to make little toys? The chef…fry cook, fumed as he started flipping patties and making a small hamburger with fries.
Eduardo almost lost his balance as he worked the fryers. Years slipped off of him as his canine paws slipped out of his too-large shoes. He breathed a higher-pitched sigh of relief, and his short tail wagged. Hot oil in the face would be awful! He needed to be more careful. Sure, he was a part-time worker, but he was going to do his best.
He couldn’t let Mr. Von Burger down! He was willing to give him a shot despite his…breed.
Eduardo’s ears lifted themselves to the top of his head and became floppy. Covered in dark grey fur. His face pushed out into a canine snout. Full of sharp teeth. Hairs the same color started to layer themselves against his face as a short and smooth coat grew in.
Despite these changes, Eduardo’s cooking became steadier and more even. Like he was used to handling a lot of orders at once. It was a pretty common stereotype that pit bulls reacted poorly to unexpected stimuli, but Eduardo always did try his best to defy people’s expectations of him.
Like how his body was slender and on the scrawny side. His mother, bless her heart, always did call him a late bloomer. Eduardo tried to play that off to his advantage. His face was on the rounder side with a gentler curvature, not the square shape people associated with pit bulls.
So when people asked him his breed, he’d always tell them he was a labradoodle mix or an “American Staffordshire Terrier”.
Eduardo was swimming in his clothes now. His sleeves were falling over his hands. This momentary confusion and disorientation passed as his clothes shifted into a proper frycook’s uniform. A red-striped shirt with a red vest. A golden “VB” stenciled itself over his heart.
It was rough being a pit bull that wasn’t as big and tough as the other ones in town. His gentle, meek, demeanor didn’t’ really win him over to the other pit bulls around here that thought he wasn’t enough of a “real” pit bull like them.
At least Mr. Von Burger hired him, though. He actually looked forward to showing up for his shifts. Either during the weekends, or after high school. He liked being a fry cook. He got to work in the back, mostly by himself; he could lose himself in the routine of cooking.
Eddie could even think about his hobbies while he worked, a sort of pseudo-daydreaming. Like what pulpy detective and horror comics he’d be picking up at the comics shop. What he’d be doing with his ham radio later tonight. His next renaissance faire with the historical society. His amateur rockets, and who could forget wargaming? He sure did love his wargaming. Maybe one day, though, people would play with individual units instead of entire armies?
The lanky, gangly, pit bull’s hobbies were like a warm, reassuring blanket of escapism. Eddie’s self-esteem was so low that he couldn’t imagine one of those spiffy poodle waitresses having a crush on him. Oh geeze, if only he could work up his nerve!
Eddie resisted the urge to touch his parted hair with an undercut while he cooked. A nervous habit of his, but he couldn’t get a stray hair in a customer’s food! In fact, he went to go put on his hairnet. How could he have made such an oversight? The pit bull teen went back to work, with some more vim and vigor. This job was fat city.
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Brendan’s watercress salad was awful. This restaurant’s décor was also awful. The most awful thing, though, was that obnoxious jackass badger and his dumbass bulldog friend. All Brendan wanted was a nice, quiet, meal. He thought that he would have it after those two left, but more and more people kept entering this diner!
Not noticing that his meal had changed, Brendan lifted his veggie burger to his mouth and took a bite. Mmm, that really did hit the spot! He was thankful Alois had a couple of vegetarian options. It looked like Alois was quite forward-thinking. He even had a filet of sea life sandwich for Catholics.
His happy moment was soon spoiled by a sharp pain in his groin. He leaned forward and groaned, feeling quite off. It felt like something was stabbing and slicing at him. Like someone was digging into him with a knife. What the hell was going on?
Brendan got up and rushed to the bathroom, whimpering as he entered a stall and sat on the toilet. Letting his pants fall to the floor as he looked down in horror.
His balls were gone! His sack was still there, but stunted and smooth. His cock sat limply, small and impotent. He touched and prodded, but those eggs were gone.
Brendan shouted in horror. How could he not notice this eviration? He tugged on his sack, as if he could pull back his testes from hiding. It was to no avail.
His feelings of panic got even worse as white, wooly curls started to grow around his groin. Hiding what had just happened.
Tears welled up in his eyes. Oh, this was awful. Just awful.
Brendan’s feelings of insecurity intensified as memories poured into his mind. How as an infant he was required to undergo a procedure that resulted in this. How as he grew up, he felt agonized and ashamed of himself for being a wether.
More wooly curls grew all over him. Thick and fleecy. Heavy. Weighing down on him. His hair poofed, lost its melanin, and fell all around him. His bleached hair was a curtain of white tendrils that reached down to his waist and framed his face adorably. Brendan’s small horns were hidden by his poofy hair. Even his ovine ears were partially obscured.
As his thick pelt of wool grew in, Brendan became slimmer and smaller. Positively dainty. His whines grew higher-pitched, and he gave a sad bleat as his face pushed into sheep’s snout. His face was covered in finer hairs than the wool growing everywhere else.
Brendan blinked the tears out of his amber eyes with rectangular, slitted pupils. Just when he thought he’d completely break down and start sobbing, a sense of calm had washed over him.
Her. Brenda remembered those days. Those very dark days, but she had overcome them.
It all started after Brenda had gone on vacation in Europe and took a nasty fall while hiking in the Alps with her family. The doctor there talked to her about her…situation. After some follow-up talks, she had asked him a few questions. Questions that people didn’t really think about in small-town 50s Americana.
The scandal that Brenda attracted after her gender-affirming surgery was substantial, to say the least. At least her family understood, and she did have her supporters.
Some people were even inspired by her life story! There was enough of a buzz around her biography that Brenda had sold the rights to it. Apparently, some filmmaker called “Edward Bark” was going to make film called “Brendan or Brenda”
Well, Mr. Bark could make any movie that he wanted to after that check cleared. She was laughing all the way to the bank. She had a small nest egg that she was happy to sit on.
Brenda had moved to this quaint little town to settle down, and to start things over with a clean slate. To downsize and simplify her spending. So far, things were going very well. With her movie money, she had rented a small house and was spending her days knitting Angora sweaters that were in high demand. The way things were going, she’d own her own soon. A home that would have room for more than just her.
One day, she’d find her special someone. Flutter bum or keen bird, all Brenda needed was someone that would accept her for who she was.
The sheep walked towards the mirror and smiled at her reflection. Feeling pretty, feeling happy.
Her wool was carefully shorn to create an adorably feminine look. Plenty of fleece was left around her chest. Her midsection was carefully trimmed to create a narrowing, hourglass look to her figure. Her curls were trimmed especially short around her forearms and forelegs. Revealing her sable hide.
Brenda adjusted her hair, and the ivory ringlets arranged themselves in a big, trendy, beehive. Held firm with spritz and spray she distinctly remembered applying this morning.
The sheep tapped her dainty chin with her thick, painted nails, and brought herself back down to reality.
Oh dear, she had spent an awfully long time in the bathroom, didn't she? She needed to get out and finish her grub. Brenda tittered and baa’d to herself in her high-pitched voice before returning to the diner to finish her meal. Thick hooves clacked on the floor as she went back to her table.