#start hrt you’ll love it

[gr3yearl]

SO funny that my terf mum was all “testosterone will cause Irreversible Damage it’s evil and you shouldn’t start it” like where was this backlash when i got given birth control without any issue which then ACTUALLY caused irreversible damage. i’m on blood thinners for life and a vein in my left leg will be forever blocked but that’s alright because it was the correct hormone for me???

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[gamemakerm]

In honor of Mermay and the current trend of Animal/Therian HRT going around (inspired by @ayviedoesthings's Dragon HRT series, @welldrawnfish's Fish HRT, @kaylasartwork's Bat HRT, @nyxisart's Puppy HRT, @deadeyedfae's Human HRT, etc etc etc, love all your work), I wanted to share the short story I wrote last year about medically turning yourself into a mermaid. This got published in WriteHive's Reclaiming Joy anthology, and we're now just outside of the six-month publishing exclusivity, so I can make it publicly available.

This was really raw to write for me, and there are trigger warnings for transphobia(/whatever the equivalent would be for mermaids?), implications of violence and hate crimes. However all the stories in the anthology were ultimately about perseverance, courage and love. I hope you enjoy, and if you want to get this and eleven other uplifting stories I can't recommend the anthology enough (though this is the only one relevant to the tags as far as I know). And if you really, really like it, you can buy me a kofi!

Scales

When the scales began to break through skin, they said you were becoming a monster. Blue and green, seafoam to pearl. You weren’t certain at what point you started to believe them.

You began to wrap yourself in tighter layers, a futile effort not to draw attention to the rough patches. Elbows, knees, along your arms, mottled with foundation and concealer caked on like spackle. Toner to offset the iridescent shine so that a passing glance wouldn’t be drawn to it. Constant checks and double checks, bathroom visits far beyond the routine. 

Your careful camouflage is usually enough to deflect scrutiny, but occasionally a stranger catches on. Nobody has said anything to you yet, but you have noticed more glances on the train. The old woman’s frown of disapproval. The young man with something to prove to you, himself, the world. His jaw tightens as he calculates his ability to start something. You tuck your chin and pretend to be busy with your phone. In the dark screen you can see the skin flaking on your cheeks. The beginnings of another patch betray you.

As you touch up in the bathroom mirror you tell yourself you wanted this, that you were prepared for the hardships. 

You walk to the public library after your shift ends. You walk most places these days, telling yourself it’s a last hurrah. The fact is you sold your car to make a dent in the cost. You’ll sell everything eventually. You’re going to have to. 

The forums have a list of books everyone checks out when they choose this path. There aren’t many and most are fantasy. There’s a running joke: if anyone mentions Hans Christen Anderson, run. You spot The Little Mermaid on a small display. You don’t run. You check out your books. The librarian gives a knowing nod, but doesn’t remark. You silently thank her for the discretion.

You take a long shower, makeup swirling down the drain. You can’t help but scratch at the itching patches on your thighs, peeling skin tearing away for new growth. Shampoo and blood circle under your feet. Your fingernails are sharper than they were this morning. You exfoliate, letting the city, public transit, the glances of strangers be cleansed. Your reflection in the mirror, a colorful smattering of new scales dusting your cheeks, is tear-streaked, ethereal. Beautiful.

You knock the concealer into the trash bin.

Your mother left a voicemail. She avoids the elephant seal in the room, talking about her gardening, your cousin’s new baby. She lingers for a moment, then: You’re being selfish. She burns brightly as a beratement begins, emboldened. But without someone to riff with she loses her steam, trails off and repeats it. You’re being shellfish. She can’t help it; she laughs despite herself. There’s a minute where she doesn’t speak, but you can tell she’s waiting for the sob in the back of her throat to settle. She promises she’ll come to your party and the voicemail ends.

You still haven’t heard from your father. You don’t expect you will. You’ve made peace with that.

You do your weekly injection on the alternating leg, needle piercing deep in a gap between scales. The plunger delivers 200mg of concentrated hope directly into your bloodstream, salt water in salt water. You put a hello kitty bandaid over it and wait for the feeling of ice in your veins to settle, the tension to go out of your muscles. It doesn’t.

You pass an enraged man on the street, spit flying, a home-made sandwich board making his message clear: The Siren Is The Devil’s Agent. The back offers an equally cogent argument: Go Back To Atlantis, Fish Freaks. You would if you could, you think dryly. He notices you and seethes, but the current of the crowd carries you away before he can curse you out.

You drag your potted plants down to the front stoop and post a craigslist ad: free to a good home. They’re gone within the hour. You allow yourself the rare indulgence of posting a selfie, eyes closed, serene, to the reddit: Learning to love my scales <3! It’s still difficult to type on your phone with the new claws. The upvotes start to come in; everyone loves a guppie.

You catch up on the shows you haven’t gotten to yet. Where there was once only the metaphorical List, there is now an actual list. Despite your best efforts it’s becoming increasingly clear you’re not going to finish all of them. You knock a few off, restructure it based on length. It still looks too long.

You have dreams about choking on toxic waste, getting minced by a boat propeller. You keep a running count of the number of times you’ve dreamt of getting your head stuck in a six-pack of soda rings. You’re up to four. 

Every few days you do laps in the local pool. You’re getting faster, but you feel exposed. There are whispers around the locker room. 

Your cat knows something is happening, but doesn’t understand what that means for her. You hold her whenever and for as long as she’ll allow, give her as many pets and treats as she wants. Despite clearing out your apartment you’ve spoiled her. She licks the scales on your cheek as you cry over her. This seems to inspire something in her; she demands her tuna crunchies. Dutifully you give her the tuna crunchies. She can have as many tuna crunchies as she wants.

You doomscroll your twitter feed, making sure this isn’t the day you lose access to your meds because of some white man in a suit. A sister is assaulted by a violent extremist with a sense of humor: he shot her with a harpoon gun. Her crowdfunding campaign starts on the maidens reddit and goes viral.

You triple check to make sure your friend is still willing to take your cat when you go. They promise to spoil her and tell her stories of you every day. You continue to cry over it. They invite you out for sushi to talk about it, then backtrack to ask if that’s a microaggression. You go to sushi. You’re thankful for the distraction.

By the time your legs are more scale than skin and your fingers begin to develop webbing you’ve given up on pretense. The looks are now constant, but you get reflective sunglasses and a new patch for your jacket: Don’t like it? Drown, with a scaled hand reaching out of water and flipping the bird. You put the energy out into the world, and the world doesn’t fuck with you.

Children love you. Their parents do not. 

On the train a young girl quietly asks if she can feel your scales. You allow her to touch her little fingers to the aquamarine pattern running up your arm, giving her your most reassuring (but still fanged) smile. She’s fearless, enamored, reverent. Her mother pulls her daughter away and hastily apologizes for her, not looking you in the eye. But you know that girl believes in magic now.

A group of white supremacists go out on a boat loaded with assault rifles for “no reason” and get lost at sea. This is somehow your fault.

The day your fins begin to push their way out from your arms, your boss calls you into his office. You both know he can’t fire you in this and seven other states, but you both also know you won’t be staying much longer. He’s done his best to make you aware you’re making his life more difficult. You put in your two weeks before he can flounder for another excuse. He moors you with paperwork for the rest of the afternoon.

Someone leaves a rotting fish in your pool locker. You don’t go back, and you don’t file a report. You tell yourself the chlorine was bad for the gills freshly forming under your ribs anyway.

Your friends take you out clubbing. You lose yourself under the waves of music, submerged under strobe lights and the salty sweat of dancing bodies. You whisper sweet nothings into a stranger’s ear, entrancing her as you move against each other. You can see iridescence shining around her eyes, shimmering glitter and an emerging pattern beneath makeup. You brush a thumb against her cheek and she melts into your touch. You don’t get her name. You don’t need to; you’re both not long for this world. You catch up with your friends smoking outside, your lips still tingling with vermouth.

Weeks pass. Work ends. Your apartment is down to furniture and cat supplies. You take longer showers. News stories continue to come out, the machine churns and roils: monsters walking among humans, the mark of the beast, sacrificing daughters to the ocean. 

You make sure your meds are reupped for the final stretch.

When your legs start to merge you know you don’t have much time left. You donate the last boxes of your clothes. Your friends get first dibs on furniture before it’s put on the street. They bring drinks and sit on your floor, an impromptu celebration and wake. They ask all the usual questions: what are you going to do for food? Shelter? What if you get hurt, or attacked by a shark? Do they have waterproof laptops yet? Will they ever see you again? What if it isn’t right for you? Can you ever come back?

You don’t know how to answer most of those questions. The group stays with you through the night. At 4AM you put on The Little Mermaid and the group drunkenly sings along. Everyone knows the words. It’s juvenile and you can hear the maidens on the reddit rolling their eyes and tutting about misrepresentation, but you know everyone in your position does it. You try not to cry, but the waterworks start and don’t stop.

At daybreak you put your cat into her harness and everyone piles into a friend’s van. It’s not far to the beach, but they take the long way around. One final tour of the land. Your cat sits on your lap and stares out the windows as you pass old haunts, your grocery store, your gym, your high school. You realize you still have library books to return and almost get them to turn around, but someone promises to go back for them afterwards.

There’s an isolated area on the beach where a canopy and tables are set up; banners, food, friends. It’s a regular going away party, as if you’re going on a short trip abroad. You suppose you are, in a way. Someone rented a wheelchair with fat tires to help you get down to the beach.

When your mother arrives she pulls her shirt off to show her custom-made clam bra. Her eyes are already red and puffy, but she’s doing her best to be energetic and upbeat. She holds you for a long time and says she’s happy for you, that you’re beautiful, that you’re so much stronger than she ever was, and then she puts on a brave face to help everyone get served at the buffet. Your cat chases small crabs across the beach around you, and you sit in the sand. The party goes strong.

The tides come up until your fin is tickled by the seafoam. Everyone knows that means it’s time to go. You pass your cat off to her new owner and she gives you a last headbutt. She seems to understand. You kiss your mother’s cheek one last time and she clings to you. The group raises their drinks as you paddle out, disappearing beneath the waves. You give them the money shot and leap out of the water on your way out of the sound, and you can hear cheering from the shoreline. You hope someone got a video for the maidens.

You keep the city in sight for a while, but the currents lead you further into open waters. There are boaters out on the water who wave to you. You wave back and keep swimming up the coast. 

At dusk you rise to the surface and watch the setting sun turn the horizon from blue to pink to purple and orange. There’s nothing for leagues around. As the sun sinks below the waves and the skies darken you sing your first real siren’s song. Shaky and imperfect, it soon resounds over the ocean breeze. You leave everything behind in it. There are no words, only feeling and sound. It’s a lament, an invocation, a dirge. It is many things, but it isn’t an apology. You have nothing to apologize for.

In the seas beyond a chorus joins in with a language you never learned but understand, integrating your song into theirs. You swim to join them.

[gor3sigil]

About being a freak, queer, trans etc.

In all the years I've spent going back and forth with my gender, being sure one day and unsure the next about how I wanted to present, if I wanted to be more fem or masc, if I wanted to be neither of them, there's one thing that I never wished: I never wished to be born cis.

There's something so magical in being trans. To me it's like a never ending childlike wonder of myself and others. I see my body as a white canvas I can do anything with and as a playground for me to explore and find secrets at every turn. It's shedding so many times that I had hundreds of silhouettes and I'm not even 30. It's seeing the most deepest and honest smiles when you hang out with your peers, and they're fully themselves and you are fully yourself even if it's just for one moment.

Being trans is being more naked than ever. My understanding of my own flesh at its core like I'm dissecting it once a year is so whole and complete. Noticing the patterns, the intricate map of my skin, how it grows and stretch with every change even well before HRT as I was practicing new poses and expressions and clothes.

I don't see myself as a flower, I see myself as a whole garden, with bees and critters everywhere, bursting with life in the warmth of the sun under a sky as blue as the cleanest seas.

Regarding the way others see me, mind you, I always was, and I mean ALWAYS, all my life, seen as a freak.

Try to picture this, even tnough you maybe can because this is the story of a whole bunch of us: growing up as a goth, queer and undiagnosed autistic girl, in a little shitty town, the last child of a family of disabled and neurodivergent folks that everyone saw as a family of, well, freaks. The teachers at school knew your brother who was bullied, and your sister who always caused troubles. They don’t know which of these paths you’re going to take but they sure as hell don’t like you. And the only other queer kids you know are a couple of girls who’d chugg down vodka before class in middle school because they were not accepted at home and bullied during recess.

My first queer relationship, also in middle school, was the typical “I loved her to the moon and back but she only wanted to experiment” and it tore down my soul. It took me years to recover from this. I think that, apart from my longest relationship to date, I never put that much of myself into someone I loved. But she was just goofing around and I mean, fair, we were kids, but man did it hurt. I resented her for years after. Now I just hope she’s happy and doing the job she always dreamed of doing.

Anyways, all that to say that I was used to being seen as an outcast. I hated that for years and tried and tried again and again to fit in. It doesn’t work. Because this in not the answer. Remember when I said that my family members were always all disabled ? My father espacially was physically disabled (and probably also autistic but undiagnosed), and he’s still to this day one of the most ableist person I’ve ever met. He knew his kids weren’t “normal”. He fought tooth and nails for us to fit in. Because that’s how he survived. But despite it all, it never worked. Because you can’t force your way into society’s standards.

I never felt more free than when I just gave up trying to. If I was going to be seen as weird anyways, might as well go all the way. Dress as I please, date who I wanted (another story for another time but it didn’t go as planned), enjoy the shit I enjoyed, unapologetically. And guess what ? It stopped the bullying. Because I gained confidence in myself and most of all, pride. I grew proud of being an outcast, so much so that people just started to be like “well, they’re like that anyways” and left me the fuck alone.

I’m rambling lmao but I think it’s important to be aware that nobody will live your life for you. Being your weird self, it’s so hard, butn so rewarding. More rewarding than anything. You’ll start making new relationships based on you TRUE self, you’ll go all the way for your passions, and trust me, you’ll be more free than anyone who bent themselves to fit in the mold and still need to painfully stretch their limbs everyday to keep the act on.

I know that sometimes it’s something you have to do to survive, and that’s perfectly okay. But don’t forget to keep your true self close and to let them out from time to time, okay ? Water down your inner garden. That’s the only way you will truly live.

[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - Progress Report I

<<| ⏯️ |>>

“...”

[The video shows a bedroom with a computer setup in the background and an empty chair in the foreground.]

“...gods how do I even start…”

[o-s]“Just talk, love. You’ll be fine.”

“...but I meant like… no, you’re right.”

[A young woman appears from stage left, wearing a green flannel hood atop a t-shirt and leggings. She has brown hair and glasses, standing around 5’8/172cm. She sits in the chair.]

“Hello. My name is Elise, and I’ve decided to make a video documenting my transition. I’ve recently thought about some life choices and more about my identity, and I’ve chosen to undergo human removal therapy. Basically I wanna take all m’ flesh and bones and turn it all into slime. Thanks to experimental drugs and the fact that the FDA is not responsible, I’ve been given an opportunity.”

[Elise holds up one generic prescription bottle containing capsules; two vials for injections, one opaque and slightly coloured green, the other clear and watery; and one tube of ointment that has been emptied.]

“This is the motherload, right here. Everything I’m taking to do this. This bottle is my… ‘my-o-chi-tin-ase’... yeah. This is the main ingredient, turns all your insides to mush and turns that mush into slime. The pills are homolipostat, it’s basically spiro but for human removal. Stops your human parts from regenerating. The other vial and the empty tube are things to help the transition. This is vasopressin, helps with water retention, which I’ll need a ton, since I’m basically becoming 50% more water by mass. And this tube once contained something like 30 grams of salicylic acid, all to break down m’ skin. The myo is 1mL once weekly, the -(pfft)- the homo is 100mg once daily, the vasopressin is 0.01mL once daily, and the ointment is one tube weekly.”

[She sets the medicines down.]

“So…day one of Slime HRT. All that is to say, nothing yet. Though I have heard this human removal therapy business is supposed to work pretty fast compared to hormone replacement therapy. So, hopefully I get some good results out of it.”

“Still haven’t told anybody except my darling wife so…yeah that’s gonna be fun when it happens.”

“Oh, and yeah, this is what I look like right now. It’s decent as far as a human body is concerned, so just to make it obvious to the TERF-y crowd, I am happy I went through this process. Even though the slime is gonna replace all of…this.”

[Elise vaguely gestures to herself.]

“I’m gonna end up uploading this all in one big compilation-esque video at a good stopping point so this is all ya get for now!”

[The woman reaches for the camera and the first segment ends. The next segment opens in a different room, messier and more decorated. In the top right corner a timestamp of ‘14 Days’ is shown.]

“Two weeks later! Still not used to talking to cameras, I’ve had absolutely zero practice since the last time you saw me.”

[Elise brings her right hand and wrist up to the camera.]

“So in terms of changes, I haven’t really noticed much. Pandora - that’s m’ wife, if ya didn’t know - she thinks my skin’s gotten clearer. I think to her-”

[Elise momentarily looks away pointedly, likely towards her wife]

“-it’s just a confirmation bias thing. Not to mention I just cannot imagine. Nope. Nothing. Never been able to. It’s called aphantasia, and if you’ve ever seen that image where it’s the five heads all imagining an apple, I’m the one that can’t see anything. But that’s not really relevant to the slime stuff.”

[The camera switches to the outer camera of a smartphone, pointed down at the back of Elise’s left hand]

“So… just so you can see… even turning my hand over just to show… nothin.”

[The segment ends. The next segment opens with a headshot and the timestamp reads ‘1 Month.’ Elise looks excited, despite having obvious bags under her eyes. Her skin appears more lustrous and is slightly translucent. She is wearing short sleeves.]

“One month! Gods one month! It’s like, impossible to explain how excited that makes me. Anyway, big news! Look!”

[Elise holds her arm up to the camera, the skin looking notably transparent.]

“That’s the first sign! Well, the first visible sign. The actual first sign was like a couple days ago. Turns out the first thing to change is something to do with sweat, probably because slimes don’t want any help in terms of drying out. It got a sweeter smell, weirdly enough. If for some reason you’re using this as a guide, take the extra time in your day to keep your skin clean. Sweat equals bacteria, so while your skin is kinda retiring from the idea of keeping all that outside of your body, do yourself a favour and take preventative measures.” 

“...and I guess this’ll be a kinda vlog thing, too. Transition’s not all about the meds and stuff, y’know?”

“I told my boss about it. Honestly, it went pretty decently, all things considered. Most importantly: not fired, which was what I was most scared about. We talked about it for like, an hour while she was in the store for something else. She’s a very human human, so I don’t think she really got the deeper meanings of it.”

“Still haven’t told my friends or my family. My friends are…also human. It took them a while to actually take my transition seriously, and even then it was because I had to tell them to. As far as my family goes…yeah, nah. I’m moving out at some point soon so either way they’re not gonna have to deal with all this for long.”

“I have connected with people more like myself, though! These drugs are experimental so it’s not like everybody can just go for it yet, so that list of new friends is kinda small. There’s a couple little support groups but everyone kinda talks to everyone and wow there’s some nice creatures I know now. So, Mayday, Sandy, Xion, if y’all are watching, hey! I am aware of you!”

“I think that’s everything? Again, not much, but it is still only a month into all this. If something happens, I’ll keep you all posted.”

[The segment ends. The next segment appears to be an Overwatch lobby, where in the top left corner a webcam is set up, showing Elise wearing headphones. The timestamp reads ‘7 Weeks.’The audio from the game is intentionally muted.]

[o-s, distant]“Hey, El?”

“Yeah?”

“...”

[Elise removes her headphones.]

“One sec.”

[Elise walks away and opens the door, still in frame. The video zooms in to mostly show the webcam, though nothing of note happens in the gameplay.]

“What’s up?”

[o-s] “Nah I was just headed to the store and…”

“...and?”

[o-s] “...what the fuck? You feel okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I feel fine. Why?”

[o-s] “Look at your skin, you’re like breaking out or some shit!”

“No, dad, it’s fine. I’m fine, okay?”

[o-s] “No no, it’s not. You’re not! You got like, shiny skin and it’s…”

“...”

[o-s] “You’ve been taking shit behind my back, haven’t you?”

“What? What do you mean?”

[o-s] “Oh don’t you start that bullshit. Come on, El, you know that shit is delusional. You see it on TV, you see those people just throw everything away and kill themselves on that removal shit.”

“You don’t understand! You don’t struggle with identity issues! I want to be something that isn’t human, it literally should not change anything between us.”

[o-s] “Ah don’t give me that shit. This trans species stuff is all just a hoax. Government just wants an excuse to take gullible people and experiment on ‘em, they get away with it every time there’s some international shit to take the heat.”

“This isn’t from the government, though! It’s from Hyper City-”

[o-s] “Hyper- when the fuck did you leave the house that long? No, if your doctor didn’t give that out then hand it over.”

“Not happening. And we really don’t wanna talk about unprescribed meds, do we?”

[o-s] “You know that’s different, you… Whatever. You’re not gonna be around long enough to make it matter anyway. You don’t show any of this to your mother, got it?”

“...Fine.”

[The door shuts loudly. Elise returns to the setup as the scene fades to black.]

}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, PART THREE

finally made some progress thank you to sandy and weiss and the rest of them over at @sandyca5tle for dropping a bomb of inspiration on us earlier this morning

but yeah! finally actually getting the changes documented, as well as the developing lore (tm)

the trans experience on full display today ;-;

[i-like-forcefem]

hey, how would you define forcefem? because I like the idea of being forced to look like a girl, but I still see myself as a dude internally so any sort of permanent changes I guess is kinda disconcerting to me. (sorry if this is kinda weird, its my first real ask on tumblr)

Mhm! I think forcefem has 2 big categories (with plenty of sub categories

1) Aimed at cuties who like the Gender Euphoria, the fantasy of someone turning you into the girl you always were, grabbing your head feeding you hrt, buying you a new wardrobe telling you you’re loved and beautiful, sometimes they do it with force, sometimes they only give a gentle nudge and you’ll start running

1 is wholesome :3

2) Is aimed at cuties who like the Humilation, the frilly dresses, the pink bows, the hard to walk in shoes, cuties who want to be a toy, someone to be made fun of, powerless and pretty and nothing more then a doll, degraded and praised for who they have been turned into, not a woman, a Girl

2 is hot! I personally prefer 2 in a kinky context, but I definitely love and value 1 a lot too!

(If you feel your tastes lie outside these 2 main categories please tell me!!! Or if you feel my definition is lacking for another way talk to me too!!! I want to understand forcefem and why people love it!!!)

Now for a simple definition you’d end up with something really broad: Forcefem is the kink or fantasy of being forced (by a person, government or anything out of the POV characters control) to become more feminine

Which kinda tells you nothing!

But establishing what people like in forcefem is a lot more useful! (To me at least)

Now going back to you anon: you’re in an interesting spot, I’ve got 3 suggestions

1) reflect on what specifically you like about forcefem, the humilation? The unconditional love? The loss of control? The cute outfits? Maybe make a list off all the forcefem stories and posts that really stuck with you, what do they have in common? What does being forced to be a girl mean to you? Why is it hot?

2) truly consider that you might be a girl! Maybe get some distance from kink for a little while! See how you feel if I call you anon a Cutie! You’re Good Girl for considering it right now

3) come talk to me more in DMs! I’m curious about your exact experience

[b0tster]

ever since coming out, i’ve had a very difficult time inserting myself into the lgbt community, specifically the trans community. i don’t know why; i’ve just never felt like i belong in any specific place, like i’m not good enough or look “proper” enough to take part. i’m not sure if that’s rooted in how isolated i was a kid and teenager just trying to to sort through this stuff. but i can’t be that way any more, and i guess in seeking to view myself as more “valid” i’ve gone through a lot of personal changes. and despite my internalized feelings towards myself from my childhood and parents and society at the time, i’ve come to love and accept myself for the project that i am.

i guess i just wanted to get that out since we’re all doing this.

to the anon, i just want to say: i was in a similar situation for years and years. i first started questioning myself when i was a child. it got worse as i got older. eventually i learned to just shove it down and ignore it. as i got older though, and grew more autonomous, and grew as a person, i realized that those feelings never went away. and from 19-25, i just kept crushing them down, but every time took more and more out of me.

i came out to my sister in tears at like 12:30am in the office of my workplace. her response? “yeah no that checks out for you.”

i’ve never been more relieved or angry, or laughed so hard, at a response, but that was the push over the edge i needed. and i don’t want you to think any of us are directly telling you that you are trans, you should transition, blah blah blah.

i have a lot of regrets about how i handled my transition. i wish i had access to more information in the 90s and 00s. i wish i had people like those that are all over this website, encouraging me to look inside myself to see what was going on. i wish i had had all of you incredible people to talk to. i spent the better part of 26 years denying who i was because i was afraid of what it might mean, and because i didn’t have any base of knowledge to understand any of my feelings. i felt alone and isolated, in that tiny ass rural town in virginia. it wasn’t until i got to college that i really saw people like me, and even then i was too intimidated, too afraid to approach or talk to them.

anon, my only real advice to you would just be to talk. find people to talk to. talk to yourself if you have to. if you think they’re steps you want to take? give them a shot. you can always stop if it doesn’t jive with you.

i started transitioning at 28. i lost my hrt a year and a half later. i just got it back a month ago, and now at 31, i’m back at square one.

my biggest regret will always be, that i didn’t give myself the chance to be myself sooner. don’t rob yourself of that chance, anon, by hiding your light under a bushel. we’ll all be around. talk to us. talk to everyone you can, and you’ll learn a little more about yourself each time. i just wish someone had told me that sooner.

love all of you guys. 💜. thank you for giving me a place to put this, botster, and thank you anon and botster for giving me an excuse to share my story.

Thank you so much for your kind words. I don't even know how to properly respond to this 🥺

I know its not fully directed at me though. But this shows how important it is to be out and proud for those who are willing.

Having a platform where people feel safe enough to ask these questions is so important.

[asoftgoth]

To ask my dream future self in case I ever escape the closet, how is weight stuff on HRT?

So much I try to read online is full of fatphobes drowning it in desperate weight loss / maintenance talk for such different body types. Would love to hear from a calmer voice what eating on E as a bigger girl is like, if it's actually that much easier to gain, whatever you've been noticing/feeling

I wanted to know this too before I started and there really isn’t a good resource at all for this kind of info, especially for truly obese people like me. From talking with other big trans girls like myself, I can honestly say is that a lot of it will depend on your genetics. I know that’s not what people like to hear, and it’s scary. A lot of transitioning seems like it’s kind of a dice roll. What I will say, though, is that if you look at your mother, if she’s a bigger woman, you will probably end up with a build similar to hers. For me, that was definitely the case. For example, when it comes to boob size people say that you take your mother’s cup size and go down a size, and that that’s what you’ll probably get.

As for my transition, when I actually started on estrogen, I lost quite a bit of weight. Although most of it was almost entirely muscle mass. I did some measurements throughout the process and so far I have lost about 25ish pounds overall but I’ve gained about 4.5 inches on my hips and lost about 4inches on my waist. I initially lost probably 40 pounds, but I’ve gained back another 10-15. So there was that aspect. I think what I’ve gained back has been fat. And definitely I’ve lost a ton of muscle. If you have a big upper body, don’t be super scared because most of the muscle that I lost was actually from my upper body. Like shoulders, upper tummy, that kind of stuff. I actually don’t think it’s much easier to gain weight on estrogen. Or at least it isn’t for me. Some people have said that it is but of all the trans woman that I know that are also feedists it doesn’t seem like it’s some super easy thing to gain weight on estrogen. It’s why I really really really hate the term “biological males”, because our bodies act like cis women’s bodies do in practically every way. 

Lastly, I’ll talk about medication’s. I didn’t see a ton of fat transfer while I was on estrogen. I saw some for sure, but it hasn’t been anything compared to what I’ve seen since being on progesterone. I’ve been on estrogen now for a year and 3 months. I’ve been on prog for about 3 and a half months of that, and I’ve seen more fat transfer while on progesterone then on only estrogen (and an anti-androgen which I still take too). What sucks the most I think about transitioning, is how long things take. Your body is going through a lot, and it’s really important for you to take care of it and help it along through this process. It’s why I haven’t really been actively gaining, and I’ve just been trying to make sure I’m eating decent enough food and drinking lots of water and getting the exercise that I need. I think that’s really the most important thing with all of this. Eventually, I probably will try gaining weight intentionally again, but I’m just kind of letting my body do its thing. It’s going through enough changes on its own.

I hope this helps!!

[befstronganof596293658]

You are a real woman. You have no womb, you have no ovaries, you have no eggs, but that doesn't matter. You are a valid human who is trying to feel comfortable in her body. All the “validation” you get is pure. Behind your back people love you. Your parents are happy and proud of you, your friends laugh at your jokes behind closed doors, and boys love you, and girls envy you. Men absolutely love you. Trans folk who “pass” look ordinary and natural to a man. Your bone structure does not matter. Estradiol widens the hips. You will be happy. You will smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, and deep inside you feel the euphoria creeping up like a weed. It is what defines you, not the transphobes. Eventually, it’ll be perfect for you – you’ll come out, start HRT, get top surgery, and finally be your ideal self. Your parents will find you, happy and relieved that they finally have a happy daughter. They’ll congratulate you on your hard journey, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a woman is what you are

[missmastectomy]

i have a problem on my hands.

so, i’m detrans, and my girlfriend is still DEEPLY entrenched in gender ideology. i have no interest in controlling her opinions or anything, she’s her own free person, but there have been some moments where it’s been making me uncomfortable and worried. (i am using preferred pronouns, btw)

like when she asks me to talk about her as if she had a penis, wishing she could get one surgically or through HRT. or when she gets so uncomfortable in her body and her identity that she out and out says she doesn’t want to be seen as female because if she is, she’s ‘unattractive.’

it honestly hurts my heart to see the person i love go through the same hoops i did. thinking that because i was such an ‘ugly’ girl i couldn’t possibly be a woman, or because i don’t perform femininity.

i don’t even want to convince her of anything, i just want to help, but i never know what to say without sounding rude, or god forbid ‘terfy.’

Yeah, she’s definitely dealing with some shit. Young woman feels ugly and bad about her body, and other things going on? Not all that unusual to see her start to ID as trans.

I’ll be so real with you. If she’s deep into the ideology, you can’t make her get out of it. You could do this two ways - the soft approach where you gently probe and ask things like why being a woman is contingent on being attractive? Why would transitioning alleviate these deep issues?

Or you could go all in and say look, it sounds like you’re dealing with body image issues.

“I don’t think you’re ugly at all. I think your beautiful, whether as a woman or not.”

“I worry that transitioning might not be the answer to xyz.”

Don’t be afraid to draw on your experience as a detrans woman. With a partner, I’d definitely share your feelings about it to the fullest extent. That is your job as her girlfriend, and it is her job to listen to you and be there for you. If her mental issues are impacting you, you need to be honest with her about that.

Honestly? She probably would take any questioning as “terfy.” It comes with the territory of dealing with people like this. I was like that as a teen. But my philosophy is that if you can’t share vulnerable, messy parts of yourself with a partner, that relationship isn’t sustainable. But you never know how she’ll react. I understand being scared of losing her, but you have a stake in this too. If she is too stubborn to consider you may have more experience than her with this, and if she reacts VERY poorly, maybe she just isn’t the one.

Idk. That’s my take. Not to psychoanalyze y’all or anything but it’s so hard to be friends as a GC person with someone baked into the trans movement. Being fully honest with her is a good test to see how strong the relationship is. More importantly, you’ll feel so much better knowing that you tried, regardless of how she responds.

[butchpeace]

Hi Sam!

I found a post that you wrote about detransitioning and I decided to visit your blog.

I’m very sorry that you experienced negative effects from HRT. I hope you’re doing better now.

However-

I truly don’t believe that your singular experience is enough to invalidate hundreds of trans people who have received positive effects from HRT. And yes, I know there are other detransitioners in the world, but there are also lots of people who like HRT and found it life-saving. People have different results from HRT, and some bad experiences shouldn’t mean that we give up HRT for everybody, especially considering how many people find it life-saving, and also the fact that HRT is used to treat cisgender people, too.

I have trans friends right now who are on HRT and are feeling the best they’ve ever felt about themselves. And I have trans friends who don’t take HRT yet but cannot wait to take it. I myself experience dysphoria, and if I could take puberty blockers or get surgery, I would (I am agender).

Lastly, I just want to say that even though you may not believe you’re trans anymore, there are still so many valid trans people in the world. Again, your experience does not and cannot invalidate the feelings and experiences of other people, because we’re all different and we feel different things for ourselves!

You probably won’t respond to this, but I would love to hear your point of view, mostly just to educate myself on other people’s opinions. And I hope you’ll change your mind about your current opinions.

-Cass

Hey Cass. Thanks for your question and for being respectful! This is a good opportunity for me to put together the research I’ve found so far. Buckle up, it’s gonna be a long one!

I genuinely hold no ill-will towards people who are currently transitioning. I have many trans friends who I care about and love. My opinions are based entirely in empathy and care for all people who have been on cross-sex hormones.

I agree with you that there are transitioning people who are, at the moment, happy with their decisions and experiencing no negative health effects. And I agree that some of them may go the rest of their lives that way. And if that’s the case, I’m glad for them.

However, the harms of testosterone have been covered up by the trans community for a very long time. We’re now starting to see research backing up what detransitioners have been talking about for years.

What testosterone does (this is the main selling point) is shut down the ovaries’ normal production of hormones. Puberty blockers also disrupt the natural functioning of the ovaries, which disrupts the natural growth process of children’s bodies. This can be reversible in some cases when you stop taking it, but many people find that their ovaries don’t start working normally again after stopping. Not producing enough hormones naturally can lead to many health issues, some of which can be very serious. Some of us need to take estrogen HRT after stopping T. Some develop PCOS while on T, which doesn’t go away. A small amount become infertile.

Testosterone also will eventually cause atrophy in the reproductive organs in most people. For some, it only takes a couple years on T before the vagina and uterus atrophy and cause chronic pain. Many people will claim this can be reversed by using vaginal estrogen, but we have no proof of that, and anecdotal information to the contrary. In fact, doctors didn’t even know that vaginal atrophy was a side effect of being on T until maybe five years ago, when they officially added it to the list of risks. Most of them weren’t prescribing vaginal estrogen before then.

Many people have had unnecessary and/or unwanted surgery because of this issue, and there are other people who have been living with chronic pain for many years, even after stopping T.

So here’s the research we have so far: 94% of females on testosterone develop some form of pelvic floor dysfunction, which can affect bladder and bowel function, sexual function, and can lead to pelvic organ prolapse. (x)

Nearly every detransitioner I’ve talked to has vaginal atrophy that has not improved, without treatment, since stopping T and which causes them more serious problems than just dryness. See this post for more information on our pelvic floor health. (x)

Here’s the study that showed 72% of people on T developing pelvic pain. (x)

Females on T are 4% more likely than women and 2% more likely than men to have heart attacks, according to the American Heart Association. (x)

The health risks they tell you about when you start T include high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and increased red blood cell count. I experienced the first 2 problems while on T, despite having a very healthy lifestyle and I’ve heard of others who experienced the same.

Many people also experience symptoms of menopause, even while on T. Hot flashes, fatigue, headaches, muscle pains, dry eyes, mental health conditions, bone problems, and many more symptoms can all be connected to having ovaries that aren’t functioning at their normal, healthy levels, or not having them at all. I’ve experienced some of these myself and have talked to others who also have these issues.

All in all, we’re kidding ourselves if we think that the doctors who prescribe these things actually understand the long term effects of testosterone on the female body.

There’s so little understanding of women’s bodies in the first place due to historical sexism and neglect of women’s health issues. A lot of doctors don’t understand menopause or the symptoms of it in the first place, so how are they going to diagnose issues like that in young people undergoing cross-sex hormone treatment?

And this isn’t even touching the issues many people report with nerve pain and discomfort after top surgery, rib problems after binding, and other surgery complications.

On top of that, transition has only been widely available to people (in numbers large enough to study) in the past 10 years. That’s why we don’t have long term research that this is safe yet. It’s literally impossible for us to have it.

We also have extremely poor data to show how many people continue hormone treatment and how many people stop. Because of this, we have practically no data on the real detransition rates in the US. Most people who detransition simply stop seeing their HRT provider and stop hormones on their own. None of them are counted in any numbers that we have. There’s also an incredible amount of stigma surrounding transition regret in the trans community. From that we can assume that there are at least some trans people who simply don’t talk about the fact that they regret it. Therefore, the 1% detransition/regret rate that’s thrown around is likely way off.

So, the doctors are lying. They’re telling us it’s safe, effective, and necessary when they don’t actually know that. The whole concept of being trans is based on the idea that you need to take these hormones in order to improve your mental health. And what is that based on? The vague fact that some people are distressed about not being the opposite sex. A hypothetical suicide rate that was never really proven, because they don’t do controlled research to see how many people commit suicide if they don’t medically transition vs when they do. To me, that doesn’t seem to be enough to hold up an entire medical industry that profits from giving primarily homosexual people hormone imbalances and risky surgeries.

This is why I call transition “medical malpractice”, and disagree with it. It’s not based on hatred, but on facts. They do not have the proof to show that this is safe, effective, and necessary. They just claim they do.

I hope that clarifies my position, and feel free to ask any further questions! I also want to note that I have an open mind, always. If the facts end up contradicting my opinions, my opinions will change. ✌🏼

[kalamity-jayne]

heya! baby-ish tgirl here. i've been on E since dec now (current regimen 6mg E sublingual/100mg spiro per day). anyway i have a nasty needle phobia but i also really kinda want to switch to injections and i think i might be stubborn enough to overcome it. what do you think? worth doing?

Well, I'm not an endocrinologist, and this is very much a conversation you should be having with one. With that caveat out of the way though I'd say it depends. First of all, if you're Estrogen levels and testosterone levels are in the ideal ranges and you're feeling good about the results you’ve been seeing thus far, I would say there's no real reason to make that change. If you’re levels are good and your mostly satisfied but just want to get a lil extra juice out of your regimen, you may want to consider just adding in Progesterone.

Many trans women swear by injectable but obviously there's nuances here. The old axiom "your mileage may vary" absolutely applies. The big advantage you have with injectable estrogen is that you bypass the stomach and the liver and thus you don't have to worry as much about how much estrogen is actually available for your body to use or your body's receptors' ability to bind to the estrogen. When I first started I took oral estrogen, but it was really challenging to get my T and E levels in the correct ranges (for context I had incredibly high levels of testosterone before HRT, even by cis male standards). After trying a few different dosages of Estradiol and Spiro (and eventually progesterone as well) and still not getting the levels right, I made the switch to injectable. Once I made the switch it felt like I was cooking with gas. So I very well may have been one of those people who wasn't effectively binding to the estrogen taken orally.

The main disadvantage to injectable estrogen is really just the needles if you’re someone who feels nervous about that. Now with injectable there’s two formats, intramuscular and subcutaneous. Both are equally effective, the only big difference between the two is that intramuscular comes with a slight risk of scarring. Both are pretty easy, and you’ll get the hang of it fairly quickly. As far as avoiding pain and scarification my main advice is: 1. don’t do your injections when you are tired, in a rush, inebriated, or under any other condition that might cause your hand to be less than steady and 2. Be swift with the needle.

Another big difference, that is neither better or worse just different, is that your hormone levels will fluctuate differently. When you take hormones orally, you get your initial E spike and it tapers off over the course of the day, which is why you generally take two doses per day. With injectable you get your initial estrogen spike after injecting, and it slowly tapers off over the course of the week until your next does (this is why it's recommended you get your bloodwork done halfway between doses). So if/when you make the switch, you may experience some mild mood swings (not everyone does though, I only experienced noticeable mode swings during the first 3 months of progesterone) and you may experience a few other signs of hormonal fluctuation such as mild non-inflammatory acne on the sides of your nose (if you experience this talk to your end, you may need the dosage adjusted and definitely re-evaluate your skin-care routine as you may need to start treating the nose with salicylic acid).

Now there are a few other delivery methods to consider, such as the Patch and the Pellet, but I don't know as much about them so I'm not as comfortable speaking on them.

I hope that info is helpful baby-girl! But definitely take all of that with a grain of salt and go talk to an actual endocrinologist!

Love,

🌷Mother Calamity🌷

[starfruitgalaxy]

CW: Needles, Gender Dysphoria

A story I wrote to help me fall asleep, pardon if I’m not great at this stuff

She stared at her phone as she scrolled through the internet reading fantasies of boys forcefully becoming girls and she couldn’t help but feel envy

The clock flips as the calendar transitions from 23:59 Sunday to 00:00 Monday

Realizing she had forgotten to take her estrogen guilt starts to seep into the corners of her mind. Like the state of her room, she too felt in a state of disarray. All day she had planned on taking her medication, but she was distracted and locked into her normal patterns of playing on the computer or lying in bed hoping to have enough energy to get back up

Filled with sadness she looked to her bed and thought to herself that she would just have to do it in the morning, though she wished for a girlfriend who would help her do it. However before she could fully lay down, she felt as if someone was was talking in the form of thoughts flowing through her mind:

What are you doing, you promised that you would do your estrogen today

I know I did, but I just feel so tired I don’t even know if it’s worth it right now

Of course it’s worth doing right now, you won’t get the results you want unless if you take it

Feeling a surge of energy, she decided to grab the white bag in the pantry, inside the contents contained purple and blue needles, syringes, and a tiny bottle with a viscous fluid

She wiped the surface of the bottle and began to extract the contents, making sure no bubbles were inside

Honestly I don’t understand why I do this, every time I look into the mirror I just see the same boy I once was and it fills me with disgust. Even though I’ve been taking these meds it feels like nothing is changing at all

I’m so sorry dear, I know that you have had the desire to have been born a girl, but unfortunately you were dealt a bad hand and instead you were put in the body of a boy with the soul of a girl

She swapped the purple needle and replaced it with the blue one

It’s not even like it was that apparent to me either, for almost all my childhood I was convinced that I was a boy, that I had to be one, even when I wasn’t into sports, or hunting, or manly things. Hell, I never felt extremely comfortable being in boys groups and I loathed it when I was in public spaces with my chest exposed, it just felt so wrong

She grabs an alcohol wipe and began to clean the surface of her thigh

It’s just so hard, I want to be a girl so bad but it feels like I’ll never be the girl I want to be, I have facial hair on my face that comes back in a couple days, my boobs are not large, I don’t even have the ability to speak femininely and it hurts so bad

I know you don’t feel comfortable looking at yourself in the mirror, but do you want me to tell you a secret?

The needle sinks into her thigh. Her leg twitched and began to ache as the metal pierced her flesh

1.0

No matter what, you will always be valid and you’ll always be beautiful

The pain increased as the plunger pushed the thick fluid into her leg

0.8

It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t take estrogen

It doesn’t matter if you have no hair on your face or if you do

It doesn’t matter if you put yourself in cute girly outfits or if you wear shorts and a t-shirt

You will always be valid

She let out a moan as the syringe reached the halfway mark

0.5

I know, but it feels hard most days

Darling, I know that there will be people who treat you poorly just on the basis you are trans, but they can go fuck themselves.

I’m so proud of you for taking your meds, and I’m so proud of the woman you are becoming. So are your friends. They see how genuinely happy you look since you’ve taken HRT and cheer you on

The last of the medication is injected into her, and she feels her leg is filled.

0.0

She puts on a cute pink and blue bandaid and walked to the kitchen, putting away the bag and grabbing her anti-testosterone meds and drinks water

I love you, and I know one day you will look in the mirror and see the beautiful woman that your friends see, that I see. Change takes time, be patient with yourself and you will see progress one day

Thank you, for giving me the strength to do what I must to be happy

She crawls into bed, grabs her blåhaj and finally succumbed to exhaustion

Goodnight Darling, sweet dreams

[kdinjenzen]

i started hrt las week, unfortunatly im too adhd for this i want bazongas now, how do i deal with this impossible situation

Be patient, focus on the changes that happen sooner, do small things for yourself to feel happy, and for the love of all that’s good buy padded sports bras as soon as possible and actually wear them.

You’ll thank me later.

[dragonmuse]

I Know about Popular has an iron grip on my brain. I was wondering if we could see a moment between Izzy and Eddy about her HRT? Their revelation about how he adores her gender expression was so sweet, but we all know he would be adorably pragmatic about their medical transition as well.

(you got it! posting it here first so I can re-read it in the morning and maybe make some adjustments before it goes to the archive)

Someone stirred nearby and Izzy jolted awake. 

“Mm?” Izzy yawned and stretched. He cracked open one eye. It was definitely not morning. “Eddy, what the fuck?” 

Shewas in his bedroom doorway draped in one of her robes. Too dark to tell which one by color. The thin slices of light that made it through his curtains painted her face in shadows.  It was a lovely picture and woud have made him very happy if it wasn’t for the fact that she hadn’t been in the apartment when he went to sleep. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” she sat down on the edge of his bed. 

“So you came across town in your pajamas?” he sat up, hand falling away from the knife under his pillow.  

“Stede was asleep.” 

“What do you think I was doing? Recreational snoring?” 

“You don’t snore,” she tilted her head. “Much. Kind of just a wheezey thing.” 

He sat up and tried to breathe evenly so his heart would stop pounding. 

“Okay. So. You’re here for a reason then? Or just think I deserve less sleep than him?” 

Eddy sighed. Went silent. Jesus fuck. Izzy closed his eyes and tried to rally a few brain cells to his cause.  Words failed him, as they so often did, so he let his body talk, sliding an arm around their waist and pressing his forehead to their shoulder. Eddy went a little limp against him, so he could tuck them further into his body. 

“He’s going to freak out in the morning when he wakes up and your gone.” 

“Left a note,” she murmured. “Where he’ll see it.” 

“Okay....okay,” he breathed out. “You want to get into bed or something?” 

“I want to start hormones.” 

“Right now?” His tired brain attempted to kick into action. 

“As soon as I can, yeah, I think so,” she sighed. “I’ll tell Stede too, but I just....I couldn’t sleep and I kept thinking about it and I have no idea why I’m putting it off, not really. I want it. So. I’m telling you because I know you’ll make it happen even if I get weird about it tomorrow.” 

Izzy closed his eyes. He heaved a sigh and pressed a kiss into her hair. “You’re weaponizing me. Against you. On purpose.”

“Little bit,” she admitted. 

“Yeah, all right,” he huffed a laugh. “Seems to be for a good cause. Want me to make the appointment? Make sure you get there?” 

“Please,” she said into his shoulder. “Come with me? I know Stede would in a second, but you’re good with taking notes and things.” 

“Yeah, all right.” 

“No questions?” 

“Not right now,” his eyes were sliding back closed on their own accord. “Get under the covers, try to sleep. Questions and stuff in the morning.” 

“I won’t sleep,” she said with conviction.

“Then don’t sleep,” he reached for the comforter, pulling it out from under pinning legs and drawing it over both of them. “There’s books, there’s the tv and I went grocery shopping this morning. Do whatever.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I don’t care. Just lay down a sec with me first?” 

She stretched out beside him, waited for him to settle, then plastered herself to his back. He fell back asleep as soon as her breathing evened out. The room was suffused with light when he woke again and she had rolled onto her back. He brushed her hair out of his mouth and lay still for awhile longer, letting her sleep as long as he could.  But he had to piss eventually, and in getting out of bed, their eyes shot open. 

“I slept?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Huh.” 

“Rubber band snap,” he shrugged, making his way to the bathroom. When he came out, she was pouring beans into the coffee maker that she was petting like a cat. 

“What’d you mean by that?” 

“You work yourself up, figure out how to solve it, snap back and pass the fuck out.” 

“I do?” 

“You do.” 

“Huh,” she pressed a button. “How come it never helped before? Like you couldn’t make me sleep before.” 

“Didn’t do shit this time either,” he pointed out, getting the milk out for her. “All you. How’d you get here last night anyway?” 

“Drove the bike. Parked it next to yours.” 

His phone buzzed. 

Stede: are they all right? 

Izzy: seem to be. 

Stede:  Please tell her that I had myself a little panic this morning and putting a post-it note on the kettle is not sufficient notice. It took me a startlingly long time to locate it and her phone is off. 

“Sunshine is pissed,” Izzy summed up. 

“Why?” Eddy blinked. 

Izzy hit the call button and handed her the phone, “You handle him, I’ll make coffee.” 

The conversation was long, but not loud. Izzy took his coffee to the couch, waiting it out. Eddy slumped down beside him, handing him back his phone and clutching their own mug like a lifeline. 

“Apparently,” she said with a huff. “I’m not supposed to disappear in the middle of the night and I should just wake him up next time.” 

“Mm.” 

“And also the kettle is not ‘obvious in the least’.” 

“Mm.” 

“AND I’m supported and loved, but should consider having my next crisis at a more ‘civil hour’.” 

“Mm.” 

“...fuuuck you agree with him don’t you?” 

“Have your crisis whenever you want, we’ll be there.” 

“You do! You think I should’ve woken him up?” 

“Moonbeam, why was it okay to wake me up and not him, huh?” He looked over the rim of his mug at her. “Or just call?” 

She fidgeted for a second then set her mug down on the coffee table. 

“I wanted to be with you.” 

“Oh.” he blinked. “Why? Stede is way better at that shit than me.” 

Eddy hesitated, then shrugged and went for it, “You don’t put up with my shit the way he does. It’s great how he accepts me all the time, I love that about him, but sometimes I need someone to push back a little. I knew if I was being too much about this, you’d tell me.” 

“You’re not.” 

“I know.  Middle of the night thinking,” she admitted. “But I needed you to be yourself and you were, so thanks.” 

“Okay?” He watched her carefully. “You’re welcome.” 

“You’ll really go with me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll change. Slowly, but it’ll happen.” 

Izzy considered her, took a sip of his coffee. He had a lot of pitfalls in front of him. But he had always loved running into danger. Especially at her side. 

“Tits,” he nodded. “Could be fun.” 

“...you’re the worst,” she determined and started laughing. “Jesus fucking Christ. That’s where your head is at?” 

“I mean yeah, your hips might change and you skin’ll get softer which...seems fucking impossible, you already feel like cashmere, but sure.  Smell might change, that’ll take some getting used to, but it seems like all the stuff you want, right?” 

Eddy stared at him. He braced himself. 

“Did you...research that stuff?” 

“A while ago. I thought it was something you’d do right away or whatever and I wanted to know. Looked into all the surgeries and stuff too. Sent links to Stede, he said he read them so he’s got an-” 

The kiss was sudden and very effective, Izzy tried not to spill hot coffee on the both of them and mostly succeeded. She pulled away an inch, touching their noses together. 

“You’re so fucking anal and I love it. I can’t believe you did research. I want to hear more about that, but not right now.” 

“Why?” 

She plucked the mug out of his hands and leaned into kiss him again. Oh. That was why. He could get behind that.

[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - Consultation (Part One)

“My name is Elise, and I am a slime girl.”

There were once days where the woman had been neither. The mantra came naturally to her, as it had been repeated for weeks by now, having been slightly changed after the second grand revelation in her life. It was said with conviction, staring deep into her own eyes through the mirror, desperately avoiding looking anywhere else on her face.

“My name is Elise. And I am a slime girl.”

Nearly a month ago she hadn’t engaged in the mantra habit for years. All it took was one too many posts on social media, one final push of pressure through just another dam in her mind.

“My name is Elise… and I am a slime girl.”

The girl sighed, hanging her head low and turning to leave.

It was all fiction, too good to be true.

But so it went, weeks and weeks of embracing this new identity and nothing to show for it. Though it wasn’t very out of the ordinary for Elise, living in an apartment clinging to the shards of a shattered family, the veil lifted so many years prior. She had been medically transitioning for over nine months by now, all in secret.

The conversations surrounding Elise’s gender transition had been hard enough. Even if the possibility arose, it would be entirely too much to hide.

That being said, things weren’t all bad. She had a decent job working as a cashier, and was saving to move out in the next few months to live with her girlfriend, far, far from the city. Once she was free, she could do anything she desired, be anything she wanted to be.

…With limitations, of course.

‘This is really starting to stick, isn’t it?’ the girl thought. ‘It’s just like how the first time felt.’

It was then, in the few hours between waking and working, where Elise would receive a whatsapp message. Moving on instinct to block the sender, the message caught her eye.

“Hey, glad I caught you. My name is Maya, and I represent Something Else Solutions. We work with individuals such as yourself who feel unhappy with their current selves, and offer solutions to those kinds of problems! If you would like to schedule an appointment with our physicians or have any questions, feel free to message this number! p.s. this is actually a real individual and I’d love to hear back :) “

Someone must’ve leaked her number linked to her tumblr. Just her luck.

But as she moved to block it, a small voice, one of curiosity and enthusiasm rang out. ‘What’s the harm in trying?’

Only to be met with the more cynical side Elise was more familiar with these days. ‘I’ve been scammed one too many times, I need to wizen up to shit like this.’

‘This could be our one chance…’ the small voice responded. That wasn’t wrong, though the woman was skeptical at best. And so the probes of messages back and forth began.

Twenty minutes later, she had an appointment.

Three days later, she was on a train to a suburb 20 minutes away. Maya (or whoever that sender was; Elise was still incredibly skeptical) had given incredibly vague directions to the clinic. ‘You’ll wanna leave 20 minutes away from where you live, then take a dirt path that calls to you. As soon as you reach Hyper City most map apps can bring you the rest of the way.’ Sure enough, being as far away as she was, the address wasn’t found by either mapping program.

Hyper City. Elise knew enough about it, but again, it was all fiction, right? A path would just show up out of the blue in a pre-planned suburb of all things.

Though as she was thinking, the woman’s eyes darted to a dirt path between two trees next to the sidewalk. One that would have the HOA up in arms. A path that should not belong.

So, like any desperate fool, she began to walk. A long, long journey that spanned–

A city.

A large, sprawling metropolis that had never been there to begin with had more or less poofed itself into existence before her very eyes. Looking back, Elise was met with a large arch with “Now leaving Hyper City. See you soon!” engraved on the stone above her. And just as Maya had said, the address was now searchable.

The walk to the Something Else building was a blur, as was the wait in the clinic. The receptionist was, as many of the people here, at least a little removed from humanity, what with her long, drooping rabbit ears. Processing, though, was at least somewhat standard, what with the usual forms and signed agreements that came with processes like these. 

“For Elise?” a nurse called. Elise had to strain to not run straight to the door, as she imagined most patients here must have.

Again, the check-up part of the visit was mostly standard. Height, weight, medical history. Hell, if the nurse who was recording everything didn’t have a large crocodilian tail, it might has well have been a basic transition check-in.

When a large owl in a lab coat walked in, everything flipped on its head in the best way possible.

“Miss Elise, yes?” The girl nodded. “Good, hello! I’m Dr. Acosta, I’m part of the IART team here, I take it you’ve heard the good news?” Another nod, followed by the bird retrieving a pen and clipboard. “Wonderful! Now, if you’re comfortable, could I have a bit of your story? Just a little bit of background information to better understand your journey up until now.”

The dam broke. Everything that came out was part of a single train of thought. The first signs that she was a girl. The clues that something at home was wrong for a long time. The friends she made along the way. Dropping out of college. Finding love. Finally transitioning. Everything. 

And despite it all, the doctor was accepting of it, letting her rant and ramble, sometimes jotting something down to talk about later. When she was finally done, a beat of silence came before the doctor spoke once more. “If I may be so bold, Miss Elise, you may be a perfect fit for a treatment plan we’ve recently been approved for.”

SLIME CONTENT YES YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT SLIME CONTENT

I'm finally doing it. I'm makin an OC and I'm gettin her goop'd. Obviously inspired by the series of @scrubbinn and @sandyca5tle, the world of Hyper City by @nuggetofthesea, and the countless other HRT series by all those talented trans artists.

Updates in maybe a few days, maybe a week? Don't know yet lol