---

 

Say Yup To The Drup

by Kaleigh Way

 

---

 
I was seething with anger. I was done being humiliated. For the thousandth time, I wished I never agreed to try to settle this godforsaken planet with this group of stuck-up heroes. Digging ditches and hauling rocks isn’t so bad, but to be mocked for not being as fast and strong as the others had finally become unbearable. At first it was just the men, and at first they only teased me. But once a few of the more athletic women decided that they, too, wanted to work the fields, that’s when it all went downhill. I wasn’t just slower and weaker than all the men: I was slower and weaker than the half-dozen women who’d come into the fields as well. That’s when the teasing went from being friendly to being mean.

Today the theme of my ribbing was that I belonged back in camp with the “other women.” I should be clear: the women working the field were never mean to me. It was the men. My so-called friends.

One of the women quietly -- and even kindly -- suggested that I might be better off working in the camp. Her remark was the spark that lit a firestorm all around me, until at last I threw down my shovel and said, “Fine! I’ll go! Anything to get away from you assholes!” And I stormed off to find Commander Bleecker.

I found him kneeling beside a stream near his cabin. He was taking water samples and studying a group of tiny frog-like creatures native to the planet. “Hallo, Norris,” he called as he caught sight of me. “Goedemorgen.”

“Come on, Bleecker,” I replied, irritated. “You know that I don’t speak Dutch.”

Bleecker sighed. “Come on yourself!” he retorted. “Goedemorgen,” he repeated. “Good morning. Is that so hard? It wouldn’t kill you lot to learn a few words of Dutch.”

“Why would we do that?” I replied. I was still pretty angry about my humiliation in the fields.

“It would be nice for me,” Bleecker said. “Also, learning languages is good for the brain.” He dropped the subject and invited me into his cabin, where he poured two cups of steaming tea.

“This is brewed from a local plant,” he said, with a pleased smile. “It tastes almost exactly like dandelion.”

I had no idea what dandelion tasted like. “Isn’t dandelion a weed?” I asked as I sniffed the tea. “How do you know this is safe?”

“I’ve seen the animals eat it,” he replied. “And they’re fine. Also, I’ve been drinking this tea myself for a few weeks, and I don’t show any ill effects. The flora and fauna on this planet are quite remarkable.”

Bleecker would have gone on in that vein for hours if I didn’t head him off. “I’m sorry, Bleecker, but I didn’t come here to talk about plants and animals. I need to change my work assignment.” And I told him how things were going for me in the fields.

“So you want to work with the women here in camp?” he asked.

“Yes, I do."

"You, among a bunch of women," he said. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"There are women working in the fields, so why can’t a man work in camp?”

“Why indeed,” Bleecker said with a nod. “Well, you can certainly try it. But, oh, by the way, do you know an old Norwegian folk tale called The Man Who Would Keep House? It’s just come to my mind, for some reason.”

“Why would I know any Norwegian folk tales?” I retorted, my face reddening.

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Bleecker said. “This man, he gets angry about working the fields while his wife is at home, having -- he imagines -- the easy life--” Bleecker broke off suddenly, as he realized why the story had come to mind. But after a pause, he went on. “So, I can’t remember all the details, but he makes a mess of everything. As I recall, he ties the butter churn to his back, and all the butter goes down the well when he bends to draw water. He puts the cow on the roof so he doesn’t have to take her out to pasture--”

“Why would he put the cow on the roof? And how--”

Bleecker waved his hands dismissively. “The house is up against a hill, so he leads the cow across a plank. It’s a sod roof, so there’s grass up there for the cow to eat. But anyway, he’s afraid the cow might fall, so he ties a rope around the cow and drops the other end down the chimney. He goes into the house and ties the free end of the rope to his leg…”

“What an idiot!” I exclaimed.

“Of course the cow falls off, and the man goes halfway up the chimney. He hangs there for hours, waiting for his wife to come home and rescue him.”

I sat in angry silence while Bleecker chuckled to himself. Then I asked, “So what are you saying? That I’ll make a mess of things in camp?”

“Oh, no, no! Nothing like that!” Bleecker protested. “But I did have a point in there somewhere…” and after musing for a moment, he said, “Yes, I've got it! Now I know what the point is: it’s about your attitude.”

“THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY ATTITUDE!” I shouted.

“Ah, just so,” Bleecker said in a conciliatory tone. “I’m only saying that you need to try to not carry your negative feelings from the fields into the camp. I agree that you haven’t been treated well out there, but you need to leave your resentment behind or it might poison your experience here. Remember, with the women in the camp, you’re starting more or less from zero. You don’t want to carry a negative balance of feelings with you. If they see you walking in with a chip on your shoulder...”

I grunted in half-hearted assent.

“And,” he said, his eyes glistening with ill-concealed excitement. “I have something that might help you with that. It’s just a drup of something.”

“A drup?” I repeated. “What on earth is that?’

“Give me a break!” he cried. “A drup, a druppel, a druppeltje! It’s a drop, a droplet, a tiny drop!”

“A tiny drop of what?”

“It’s a preparation I’ve made from a local plant. It should calm you, help you feel less frustrated. Let me show you.” He took a very clean, clear vial from a drawer, and a glass tube with a tiny tip. He dipped the tip in the liquid, lifted it up and gave the other end a light tap. The tiniest drop possible fell from the tip back into the vial. “Just a drup,” he repeated.

“How can anything that small have any effect…” I began to say, but then I stopped. I recalled that my grandmother was a great believer in homeopathy. Whenever we were sick she’d give us a few tiny white pills, or two or three drops of a liquid like that. “Is it homeopathic?” I asked.

Bleecker gave me a guarded look. “Will you feel better about it if I say yes?”

“Yes, I guess so,” I replied. “My grandmother used to give us homeopathic remedies.”

“And did they help you?” Bleecker asked.

“Yes, I think so,” I replied. “Grandma used to say, At worst, it will do nothing, but at best, it will help you.”

“A wise woman, your oma.” Bleecker commented. After a moment, seeing the look on my face, he sighed and said, “Oma means grandmother.”

I nodded and smiled. Remembering my granny, picturing her wrinkly, smiling face, had put me in a good mood. Bleecker seized the moment and asked, “So… are you saying yup to the drup?”

 

---

 

Oddly enough, I did find the drup calming. Almost instantly, it seemed to change my entire attitude, so I went to find Josie Weydert, the camp foreman, and she put me to work immediately, changing beds. She helped me strip and remake the first three beds, then watched me do the next three by myself. “Will you mind working by yourself, just for now?” I said no, of course not, and spent the next two hours changing beds alone. It was wonderful. It was the first time I’d been by myself since we landed on this rock, and I could feel my poor frayed soul reknitting itself inside me.

Josie came to call me to lunch, and found me smiling and singing to myself as I worked. She took a quick look at two of the beds, and complimented me on my work. As we walked to the mess hall, she said, “It takes almost three days to change all the beds. Two, if you’re quick. Will you mind finishing all the beds before I put you on another task?” I agreed, smiling, and she commended me on what an agreeable and positive attitude I had.

“Honestly,” she said, “I was a little worried when you came over today, because I’ve heard that you complain a lot.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “I’m sure I did.”

“What was bothering you? The kind of work? Having to work all the time? What?”

I searched my mind for an honest answer. Was it me? Was it the people I worked with? At last I said, “I think I was in the wrong place, and I let it get to me.” Josie nodded. “Also, to tell the truth, Bleecker gave me a drup of something, and that helped a lot.”

Josie stopped in her tracks and looked at me in alarm. “A what?”

“A drup, a drop, a droplet. It was really tiny.”

“Was it some kind of drug?”

“No, no -- it was made from some local plant.”

Josie swore. Then she asked me, “Are you sure you’re okay to work?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied. “I’m glad to work.”

Josie rubbed her face as she thought. “Okay, let’s go to lunch. Don’t tell anyone else about the droop thing, okay? No one. After lunch, check with me and if you still feel okay, you can go back to making beds. And I’m going to have a talk with Bleecker.”

At lunch, I sat at a table with some of the women in the camp. They glanced at me and said hello, but they didn’t make me part of their conversation. It was fine. I still kind of wanted to be alone, but it was nice sitting with them. I saw Josie corner Bleecker. She grabbed him by the arm and took over a entire table so she could talk to him alone.

After lunch, Josie came and put her hand on my shoulder. She led me outside, where Bleecker was waiting for us. There was no one else around, no one to overhear. Josie nodded to Bleecker and said, “Now tell him what you told me.”

“First of all,” Bleecker said, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel really nice,” I said. “Very peaceful, very happy.”

“And is your mind working okay? If I ask you what is 13 times 14, what do you say?”

I laughed at first, but after a moment, “182.”

“These questions are meaningless!” Josie hissed. “Tell him what you gave him!”

“Okay,” Bleecker agreed. “What I gave you was an extract of a plant that grows on the edge of our stream. It first appeared after we discovered the spring. The seeds were probably latent in the earth.”

“And what is special about this plant?” Josie prompted.

“The little frog-like creatures sometimes eat the fuzz that grows on that plant.”

“And what happens when they do?”

“It has no effect on the females, but --” Bleecker hesitated a moment -- “but it turns the males into females.”

My face went pale, and if Josie hadn’t caught my arm, I would have fainted. “But… but.. why did you give it me?”

“I thought it would calm you and improve your mood. Also, you were going to be among women, I thought it might augment your -- ah, feminine hormones.”

Josie swore darkly. “Bleecker, you are an idiot!”

“You must admit his mood has improved!” Bleecker protested.

“But am I going to turn into a woman?” I asked, my voice rising into a wail.

Bleecker actually started laughing! “Of course not!” he chuckled. “What a silly question!”

“How is that a silly question?” Josie demanded. “I was just about to ask the same damn thing!”

Bleecker huffed with impatience. Then he explained, “The frog-like creatures are very simple, very plastic lifeforms. They change easily: if they lose a limb, it regrows very quickly. If you compare their anatomy to ours, it’s like comparing a bicycle to a spaceship.”

We stood in silence for a few moments, then I said, “Well, I want to get back to work to take my mind off all of this, but I have one more question -- and please do not laugh.”

“Okay,” Bleecker agreed.

“How long does it take for the frog to change sex?”

Bleecker blinked. “Seven days. A week.”

Josie huffed in anger. “Don’t worry, Norris,” she said. “We’ll keep an eye on you. And no more droops! Understand, Bleecker?”

Bleecker’s eyes twinkled. “It’s drup,” he corrected. Then, as Josie began to say something else, Bleecker acquiesced: “Okay! Okay! I promise! I swear!”

 

---

 

The week that followed was the most frightening week of my life... AND the nicest week of my life. I never felt more relaxed, or more at peace with myself and the people around me. At the same time, I lived in constant fear that the drup — as wonderful as it made me feel — was going to alter me in some irreversible way… even to the point of turning me into a woman, or some strange thing that was neither man or woman or maybe even human! Each morning when I got out of bed, and each night before I got into bed, I checked myself as thoroughly as I could. I checked my chest, to make sure I wasn’t growing breasts. I checked my genitals, to make sure that nothing was changing down there. Happily, each day I was physically the same, at least as far as I could tell.

My work went along much better. After finishing with the beds, I moved on to cleaning and laundry. Josie told me that next week I’d help prepare meals.

Finally, the night of the seventh day arrived, and I was still myself. On the morning of the eighth day, though, there was a very disturbing change.

It was my attitudes, my frustration, my negativity. They all returned in full force, as if they’d picked up exactly where they left off when I took the drup.

This was a change I never expected, and it filled me with dismay. I’d just begun fitting in with my new work colleagues. At first the women had looked at me askance; like Josie, they’d seen me complaining. They knew I didn’t get along with others, and they didn’t expect to get along with me. Still, by the end of the week they’d begun to soften toward me, and were on their way toward accepting me. I was so upset by my reversion, that I didn’t bother to check myself physically. I quickly dressed, and ran to Bleecker’s cabin.

“I want another drup,” I told him.

“I can’t,” he protested. “I promised Josie. And it’s probably not wise.” But he didn’t throw me out, and he listened while I went through my reasons. When I finished, he sighed.

“I can see you’re all agitated again,” he admitted.

“Like a week ago,” I prompted. He nodded.

“And you’re sure -- dead sure -- that you haven’t seen any physical changes?”

I swore up and down that I was still the same man.

“All right, then!” he softly exclaimed, rubbing his hands with excitement. “So… you’re saying yup to the drup?”

“Yes, I am,” I enthusiastically agreed. “I mean, yup, yes, yup.”

He dropped another tiny drop on my tongue, and I immediately felt the change.

“I can see how that relaxed you,” Bleecker commented.

“Hey,” I said, in a conspiratorial tone, “what do you say to giving me two drups?”

“No,” he replied in a flat tone. “You see how strong this stuff is. Besides,” he added in a joking tone, “it might just make you too wonderful to bear.” And he laughed a little at his own joke.

“Would that be so bad?” I asked.

“Look,” Bleecker said in a serious tone. “Do you know about the Law of Diminishing Returns?”

“Oh, no,” I protested. “You're not going to tell me a story, are you?”

He scowled me into silence, then asked, “Have you ever been to Amsterdam?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, one of the best treats on earth is poffertjes. They are little fluffy pancakes sprinkled with powdered sugar, and the best place to buy them is from an Amsterdam street market vendor. You get a little bag, and you gobble them down, and they are so so good.

“Then you might say to yourself, those poffertjes were so delicious, I think I will have some more. So you buy another bag, and you eat them as well.” Bleecker’s mouth was watering as he spoke, and he licked his lips before he went on.

“Now, you might think nothing could be better than a third bag, then a fourth, and let’s say a fifth, but at some point, they aren’t going to taste as good, and if you keep eating eventually you’ll get sick and vomit and spoil the excellent experience that you started with.”

I let Bleecker enjoy the recollection of his fluffy Dutch pancakes for a bit, and then I said, “But two bags, that was still good, right?”

He groaned. “That was NOT my exact point. It's not a perfect analogy.”

But in the end, he gave me a second drup.

 

---

 

My second week in the camp was even better than the first. I was not only happy and full of peace, I was also very confident, outgoing, and empathetic. As far as I could tell, I wasn’t overdoing it. I decided to let Josie be my judge, and went to ask her how I was doing.

She told me, “In the beginning, you know, I had my doubts about you. I told you that right at the beginning. And then that business with Bleecker and his droops -- oh my God, Norris, you really scared me. I thought you might die, or turn into some awful freak, or something worse.” She stopped a moment and smiled. In a low voice she said, “I knew it was impossible -- that you could never turn into a woman. That's just ridiculous. You know that. Still, those droops were not a good idea at all.” I nodded. “But you’re fitting in really well. You’re a good team member. You take initiative, you help without being asked, and you are extremely reliable. When you say you’ll do something, I know you’ll do it, and I know you'll do it the way you’ve been asked to do it. I’m really proud of you, and I'm glad you’re on my team.”

And THAT put the cherry on top of my fantastic mood.

I was in such a great mood, that I only checked myself once that entire week. It was clear that my body hadn’t changed. It made me laugh to think that I once believed I might actually change.

 

---

 

Again, on the morning after the end of my second week, I woke in a terrible mood, full of anger, resentment, and frustration. It was like all my bad feelings had gone to sleep for a week and woke up, surly and combative. I trudged over to Bleecker’s cabin and without too much trouble, got him to give me two druppels. He didn’t fight very hard when I asked for a third. Surprisingly, the third drup didn't push me higher; it seemed to even me out. I didn’t feel all peaceful and positive like the previous weeks. I just felt normal. I wasn’t negative about anything. I just felt the way a person ought to feel. Just plain. On an even keel. Later Josie commented that it seemed that I’d “settled in,” and that seemed to sum up how I felt.

 

---

 

On the morning after the end of my third week, I woke up still feeling normal. I wasn’t peaceful and I wasn’t angry. I was just me, normal me. I lay in bed for a while, just experiencing the normalness. I was surprised that I didn’t need to run to Bleecker for another drup. I decided that I must have made a transition internally, and that all my bad feelings were finally behind me. I drew a deep, happy breath, and then for some reason, I rubbed my forearms with my hands and got the shock of my life.

The skin of my arms was wonderfully smooth. And do you know why? It’s because all the hair on my arms and hands were gone. It was gone from my chest and legs as well.

I leaped out of bed, and was shocked to see that my sheets were sprinkled with short, black hairs: the hairs from my arms and legs and chest and shoulders and back. They had all fallen out.

The hair on my head was fine, though. My eyebrows were there, and my pubic hair was still intact. But the rest of it was gone, even from my face.

Alarmed, I checked my chest and genitals, but everything seemed right in those departments. I tried to look myself over in my tiny mirror. As far as I could tell, the body hair was the only change. I decided to keep this to myself.

When no one was looking, I shook out my sheets and swept up the stray hairs from the floor.

Then I got dressed and went about my work. Bleecker didn’t ask me whether I wanted another drup. I think he felt relieved that I hadn’t asked, and even though (as I found out later) he was extremely curious about my experience, he decided to wait for me to bring it up.

During the day, a woman touched my arm and exclaimed how soft my skin was. She asked whether I was doing anything special to make it that way. I told her that I wasn’t, and shrugged.

That night, I started checking myself again, night and morning, to see whether I was experiencing any other changes. It wasn’t as easy as you might think. I had the feeling that my testicles were slightly smaller today. But how could I be sure? It wasn’t like I’d actually ever measured them.

My fourth week went like that: thinking that I’d changed slightly, then convincing myself it was only in my head.

On the night of the end of my fourth week, I had a dream that Bleecker came to me while I was sleeping. He leaned over my bed to put drup after drup on my tongue. Then he whispered, “There is an old folk tale from the country to the north of Norway about a man who kissed a frog-like thing and turned into a girl. Do you know that story? Do you know that man? Have you ever been to the country north of Norway? They know all about you there.”

I woke from the dream with a start and was so shaken by it that it took me a long time to realize that it hadn’t actually happened. In fact, even after I understood in my head that it wasn't real, I was still upset with Bleecker for the things he’d done in the dream.

The sun hadn’t come up yet. It hadn’t even begun to glow behind the horizon, but I got up, checked myself, and got dressed. I went for a long walk to help me think, and then I went to see Bleecker. I had to wake him up, but he didn’t seem to mind. He brewed some of his dandelion tea, and poured two cups. He waited for me to begin.

“Bleecker,” I asked, “what is the country north of Norway?”

“Is this a riddle?” he replied. “There is no country north of Norway.”

“Did you ever give me a drup without my knowing? Like in my tea or while I was sleeping?”

He scowled. “Of course not! How can you ask such a thing?”

I told him about my dream. He found it interesting, but couldn’t explain any of it. I told him about my hair loss, and he said that he’d noticed it already. “Josie has noticed it as well,” he said. “She spoke to me about it.”

“What did she say?”

“She’s worried about you. So am I. It was really stupid of me to give you those drops.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “Does she know that you gave me more than the first one?”

He shook his head no. Then he asked, “Have you experienced other changes?”

I explained how my moods had evened out, and he nodded. “Yes, I could see that. I was glad you didn’t come back for more.” We both sipped our tea at the same moment. Then he asked, “Have you seen any other changes?”

“Uh, yes,” I replied, “but only just this morning. My balls have shrunk to maybe a quarter of their normal size, and my scrotum has tightened up as well. I’m not sure about my penis. It’s more difficult to tell.”

Bleecker dropped his teacup, and it broke to bits on the floor. He looked at it for a silent moment and took a deep breath. It was one of the few objects he’d brought from earth. But he let it go and looked at me. He put his hand on mine. “I've done you a great wrong," he said. "I know it doesn't help, but I can only say how sorry I am.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I told him. “We did this together. Even after I knew what it was, I wanted more. And I pushed you very hard.”

“Still...” he objected, and made a vague motion with his hands.

I asked him not to talk to Josie, except to say that we’d talked.

I kept the next set of changes to myself: after another week, my balls were entirely gone, and a full week after that, my scrotum smoothed out and disappeared as well. As my penis grew thinner and shorter, my groin began reshaping itself into a pair of soft mounds.

However, once my breasts and butt started growing, and my shape began to look more like an hourglass, I couldn’t hide or pretend any more.

Each night and every morning, I’d touch myself down there, until one morning after many months, the soft lips parted and my vagina opened, moist and warm and ready.

The sun was still hiding below the horizon, but I quickly dressed and ran to wake up Bleecker. I was sure he’d want to share in my discovery.