“Happy biiiirthday dear Sarahhhhh, happy birthday to you!” the crowd around the dining room finished singing off-key. The birthday girl scrunched up her face, took a deep breath, and blew out the candles.
“39 today,” said a man at her side. “You know what that means. Next year is the big 4-0.”
“It means I’ll be robbing the cradle,” laughed Sarah. “I always did have a thing for younger men. Which is how I ended up with you, Brad.”
“I’m 36, I’m not exactly a spring chicken either,” he retorted. “Three days to recover from a workout nowadays.”
The group fell on the cake and ate nearly three quarters of it. “You better be careful, Aunt Sarah,” chortled her teenage nephew Eric as he helped himself to a second slice. “That metabolism slows down a lot at your age.”
“Yes, well, I remember being a teenage boy like you and being able to stuff my face endlessly with junk. Your poor parents must spend more on food than their mortgage,” replied the petite blonde woman.
“It’s so weird to picture you as a boy,” said Eric. “What were you like? When did you change?”
“I wasn’t very athletic,” said Sarah. “I started the change when I was about 25, and I was 5’8” and skinny. Then when I went through Second Puberty, I ended up as basically a 21-year-old young woman, just like you see me. Five foot two, eyes of blue, blonde hair, don’t care.”
“And enormous tits,” replied Brad as he copped a feel.
“Ew,” said Eric’s sister Caroline, “get a room.”
“Is it true that Second Puberty victims tend to end up in the stereotype of their new gender?” asked their friend Maureen.
“Yes,” said Brad with emotion, “which is why she ended up as a perky blonde bombshell.”
“If you went through it, you’d end up looking like a real-life Barbie doll,” snorted Eric.
His uncle cuffed the back of his head. “That’s not funny, kid. I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I turned into a woman.”