Brian tried to keep up with the changes in his body, but it was like trying to dam a river with a toothpick. More and more, he felt like a foreigner in his own skin as his body softened, his hips widened, and his nipples grew more sensitive.
He tried to ignore the rumors and speculation circulating around the palace. It didn’t help that these days even his “civilian” clothes were skewing more and more femme. The royal dressers seemed to delight in making him wear the girliest outfits they could concoct. When Brian protested, he was told the press loved seeing him in skirts, that it was “pushing the boundaries of what it means to be a prince.” But Brian couldn’t help thinking he’d been pushed over the edge of that boundary and beyond. Supposedly, some of the cheekier servants were even calling him “Brianna” behind his back!
“Oh, they’re just being silly,” Amelia said when Brian mentioned it one evening. “Everyone knows you’re my man, even if you’re becoming lovelier by the day.”
“What about what the doctors said about my...you know...fertility. They still haven’t found the source of my low sperm count.” In reality, “low” was generous; his sperm count was practically zero.
Amelia sighed. “Honestly, my love, I’m a little relieved. I’m a busy woman, and I wasn’t looking forward to being pregnant. I’d rather focus my energy on helping the country.”
Brian was dumbfounded. “B-But if we don’t have an heir, the monarchy will—” He stopped himself. Since when did he care about the monarchy’s future?
Amelia cupped his smooth face in her hands. “We don’t need a biological heir. There are so many wonderful children in our kingdom who need a loving home. We can adopt one and give them a home and a life full of love and opportunity.”
Brian’s heart warmed at the thought. “That’s a great idea.”
“And you’ll be an amazing mother,” Amelia said, her eyes twinkling.
“Mother? Don’t you mean father?”
“I suppose. It’s just... Well, you seem so much more maternal than masculine these days. But, of course, whatever you want to call yourself is up to you.”
Brian sighed. Was this going too far? Sure, he was starting to enjoy the attention he got in his dresses, the looks of admiration from strangers, and the way his body felt so much more graceful and beautiful. But he also felt oddly calm and contented. As a self-described punk, that wasn’t an emotion he was used to. But, hey, maybe this was the way to fight the system. There were other ways to be a “punk” than impotently raging against the world, right? His wife was not only challenging the status quo of the monarchy, she was also challenging gender norms. How could he not join her in her mission?
Brian smiled and hugged Amelia. “Let’s do it,” he said. “Let's adopt a child and make them a part of our royal family.”
Amelia smiled. “I knew I chose the right man. Oh! And I have a wonderful idea for our outfits for the Spring Ball. You'll be in a gorgeous flower crown and dress.”
“And you?”
Amelia winked. “I’ll be wearing my father’s old tuxedo. He thinks it’s for you, but I'm having it tailored for me. That’s also when we’ll announce our decision to adopt and your role as our child’s caretaker. Can you picture all their dumb faces? Oh, Brianna, I can’t wait!”
Brian felt a strange thrill as she called him by that name. But was it a thrill of excitement or dread? He wasn't sure. Either way, it seemed certain the monarchy would never be the same.