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Story Notes:
The character, show, and concept don't belong to me. No money is made off this story. :)
Author's Chapter Notes:
Let me know what you think... :)

“Check out the new Chinese food place I tried!” Shawn bounced into the Psych office. “It serves these weird fortune cookies. See?”

He held up a broken red fortune cookie for Gus to see. “How weird is that, huh? Red? And it gets weirder!”

He waggled his eyebrows, held up the slip of paper from the cookie and read, in a terrible, offensive, fake Chinese accent, “’You will find out how other half lives for one day!’ What’s with that, huh, Gus? Do you think it means I’m going to be rich for one day? You should try the place, though. The food’s great.”

Gus swiveled on his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Great, Shawn. You’re out eating Chinese food, and you didn’t bring me any?”

Shawn sat down on the couch and flung an ankle up onto his other knee, arm stretched across the back of the couch. “Well, I didn’t know you’d be here, buddy. Don’t you have work today?”

“Actually, I finished early…”

“Well, great! We can have a pinball tournament! There’s a machine I’ve been meaning to try down at the ‘Dirty Laundry Laundromat.’ And, uh, I kinda didn’t have the cash to buy extra Chinese food, anyway. Which reminds me. Can you spot me a twenty?”

“’Spot you a twenty?’ Shawn, what do you do with your share of our Psych earnings?” Gus glared at him, but reached for his wallet.

“I found these great shoes on eBay. Dude, they were worn by Chuck Norris, the seller swears it! He even has a certificate of authentic-fication.”

“Authentication, Shawn. It’s authentication.”

“Right, exactly what I said.”

“No…” Gus sighed, giving up the effort to yet again correct his friend’s English, and handed over a twenty.


Shawn woke up to the sound of persistent pounding on his apartment’s door. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. He seemed to have to stretch his legs farther to reach the floor. Rubbing his eyes, he wandered to the door. When he opened it, there stood Gus.

“What?” he said.

“Shawn! You were supposed to meet me at the office at noon today! You promised! We were going to go over the books…” The last word died away in a weird strangle as Gus goggled at Shawn.

“What?” said Shawn again. “Egg on my face or something?”

He scratched idly at his side. He was still wearing the ribbed black sleeveless t-shirt and boxer shorts he’d gone to bed in. Only now, they felt tight in some places, and baggy in others.

Suddenly, he realized he was looking up at Gus.

Overnight, Gus had gained at least four inches on him.

“Either you have a glandular problem you never told me about, or…Dude, I finally get a magic fortune cookie, and it makes me short?!”

“Uh…” Gus seemed to be having trouble getting his speech centers to work. Just like he did when…

No. It couldn’t be.

Gus gulped. “Uh…Shawn, you’re not short. You’re…you’re a girl.”

Shawn looked down at his chest. “Oh.”

He clasped hands over his new chest, and turned away quickly. “Dude! You’re not supposed to look!”

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