As voted on for race change September!

By FoxFaceStories

Devon, a rude and somewhat edgelord teen, is forced to learn a lesson after Priya the Witch hears him mock a black teenager for being pregnant. Now he’s the one as a young black pregnant teen, and the new girl really wants to change back!

Please, I've Learned my Lesson, Now Change Me Back!

Dear Priya the Witch,

I am very, very, very, VERY sorry for what I did three months ago. I was incredibly wrong in what I said, and I know how stupid it was to be an entitled edgelord teen who thought it was okay to mock a girl in the way I did. I know you said not to ever talk to you, or ‘things would be so much worse for me’, but I’m not talking to you if I send a letter, right? I’m really, really hoping this reaches you because I’ve been trying to find your address and it was only when some lady called Morgan laughed when she heard my story that I got a good lead on you. She told me ‘good luck’ but seemed to smile a bit, so I hope her information was good and that this isn’t a trick or something.

I’ve been researching how to say a good apology. Or write it, in this case. I’ve been watching videos and the like, but I’ve also just been genuinely reflecting on how to change for the better. I promise I’m not trying to game anything! I want to be better, especially with all that’s going on in my life and the fact that I’m, you know, very pregnant right now. Apparently one of the best ways to apologise is to acknowledge the crimes/sins/wrongdoings you performed, so I hope that’s the best way to start this apology?

Okay, so here it goes.

Three months ago I was on the subway in the early afternoon. My name was Devon then, as I suspect you might know, since you’re a witch and all. I was nineteen years old, white, with blonde hair and blue eyes. I was a big edgelord, and I was joking with my friends about a girl opposite us who was obviously pregnant. I never found out her name, but she was black and pregnant, and clearly only about sixteen years old or so. An underage teen mom, and you know the jokes I made. Shit, I don’t even know if I can write them anymore. I said some horrible things. This is what I remember saying.

“Oh great, another black teenage pregnancy, like we needed another one!”

“Where’s the babydaddy gone? I’m guessing he went down the street to grab some milk and then never came back, right?”

“What’s it feel like, having a future gangbanger growing in your belly? Or was it the result of a gangbang? Ha!”

“Lemme guess, Tyrone if it’s a boy, and Eunik if it’s a girl?”

It was racist. It was horrible. It was sexist as hell. I know that now. No, that’s not right. I knew it then, too. I was a fucking moron, and a bigoted one at that. My friends weren’t even laughing all that much; they were telling me to stop. But I prided myself on being a total edgy dude, and I recognise now that this was my privilege. I could say these things and the poor girl was crying, and then she snapped back at me, which made me laugh at her even harder and say worse things because she dared to insult me. 

That’s when you stepped in. I remember seeing you and thinking I had a shot with you. How stupid was that? I’d just been a total racist and then an Indian-American woman steps forward and I think I’ve made a good impression. Like I said, bigoted and privileged and idiotic as hell. I still remember what you said to me.

“Oh, this is bad luck for you, Devon.” (that’s right, you DID know my name, somehow). “Because you just happened to say all that racist, sexist, bigoted shit in front of an actual WITCH. You can call me Priya. Priya the Witch. I normally play games of chance with those who come under my magic sway, but for you I’m going to make an exception. If you’re going to mock a girl for the colour of her skin and her pregnant state, then YOU can see what it’s like to live like that.”

I barely even had a chance to respond when you hit me with your magic. I didn’t even know that magic EXISTED before this, and suddenly you were blasting me with it. I remember my entire body twisting and changing, my skin darkening, my facial features changing, my lips getting real thick and my nose a little wider. I grew boobs, and my hips spread wider, and even my clothes changed so that I was wearing a similar outfit to the girl on the subway; a maternity hoodie and a skirt. My body hair disappeared and my stomach grew and grew, causing me to groan. I remember feeling so confused and embarrassed, and my friends were shocked. The girl looked at me with astonishment, and then she started to LAUGH at me, which only made me angrier. 

“You bitch!” you might remember me saying. “What are you doing to me?”

“Making you a pregnant black sixteen year old,” you told me. “Maybe that will teach you a lesson, courtesy of Priya the Witch. Remember that name, kid, so you know never to take your chance on bigotry and cruelty ever again. Hopefully, you learn your lesson before the baby arrives.”

And then you left, even as my changes still raged. My dick pulled up inside of my body, and my hips widened, and my boobs grew again until I had Double-D’s! Worse, I could feel something growing into my new womb, filling me up and stretching my uterus. It began to kick and move inside of me, and when I lifted my hoodie and shirt I could see my new black belly moving. My friends were all freaked out, and then they got off on the next stop as soon as they could. Some of them told me I had it coming.

God.

I did have it coming, didn’t I?

The girl laughed at me again, but when she got off at that stop as well, she put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a sympathetic smile. “It gets easier,” she said. “I hope you adjust.”

They were far kinder words than I deserved. I tried to find you straight away, but I couldn’t get any leads. I was stuck as a black girl, and I was sixteen again! My entire identity had changed. My friends knew I had changed, and the other passengers had freaked out, but the government and everyone else just assumed I’d always been a black girl, that I was only sixteen, and that I’d gotten knocked up by a stranger six months ago. I was six months pregnant, and I cried and cried and cried. All the hormones were getting to me, and worse, everywhere I went people looked at me funny. That judgemental look. I was even the subject of some edgy jokes on the subway, including how I had no baby daddy and the like. It was horrible. It is horrible, and I realise that now. I have to work at a fast food place to make ends meet, and do everything I can despite getting bigger everyday and getting so damn tired. Even when I go shopping for clothing, some of the store women give me the stink eye or follow me around, acting like I’m going to steal something. I never knew how privileged I was. I haven’t done anything wrong since, I swear, but now the world treats me like I’m scum, all because I’m a young, pregnant black girl.

I never knew. 

But I should have known.

That’s what I want you to know. For the last three months, I’ve put up with it all, and changed so much as a person. The hormones get me all teary-eyed when I think about how unfair it is to live in a world that can be so unkind, but I cry even more when people are nice to me, like a gorgeous dark-skinned woman in her forties who comforted me and let me rent a room at her place at a cheap rate. Her name is Cassie, and she’s a true sweetheart. I would have judged her once just by her appearance (she’s a little overweight and single), but now I know how wrong I was. She’s even helping me prepare for the baby. I’ve been putting together the nursery, and doing the best to stay healthy. My belly is so big now and I could go into labor any day now. I won’t lie, Priya, it scares the shit out of me. Part of me loves this baby but I shouldn’t have to have it! 

I’ve learned my lesson, now please, please, please change me back!

Give someone else the baby! Let someone else raise it! Please, change me back to the man I was! I should be Devon again, not Denise! I can do so much more as a man. Help bring racial sensitivity to the spotlight or whatever! I can teach my friends to be better as well. I can help out! I can be kinder! But I shouldn’t have to go into labor or feel this baby kicking around in my stomach any longer! I’m not a black girl! I’m not a pregnant teenager! 

Can’t you do something to turn me back? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I’m begging you to do the right thing now that I’ve learned my lesson. Please change me back! I’ll do anything!”

Sincerely, Denise/Devon 

***

Dear Denise,

I’m surprised you found me, though I’m not surprised that Morgan rather humorously got you into contact with me. Be glad that you were cursed by me and not her or else you might be destined for a much larger brood. Still, I’m glad you believe you’ve learned your lesson! It’s clear to me that you have a much wider understanding of the truth. You seem more aware of what other people go through, especially women and minorities, and those who are pregnant as well. A good learning experience, I think. And it seems like it hasn’t all been suffering; you have also learned a lot more about dropping the edginess and putting forth sincerity, and the value of community in helping support a newly vulnerable person such as yourself.

As for changing you back, I’m sorry to say . . . I think not. The die has been cast, and I think you still have many more learning experiences to go through. The last half of your letter reeks of desperation and entitlement, and I rather think you’ll do more good in the world as Denise rather than Devon. Who knows, you might even find a man once you recover and finally get a baby daddy of your own. Perhaps the next child will be more voluntary?  Or maybe the life of a single mother is for you, and you’ll be able to staunchly defend the next woman who is unjustly the victim of prejudice on a subway, a street, or in any other public space. Do your best to grow into the life of a strong black woman who can be better. And with that, I end my response. Don’t contact me again, or I’ll refer you to my friend Morgan. Trust me, you don’t want that. Better to stick with your new life as a black teen and eventual black woman, and try to mature into a better person and mother.

Good luck with the birth, though!

With love for you and your new baby,

Priya the Witch

The End