Lori flounced over to the couch and plopped down next to Hunter. (And yes, it was emphatically ‘flouncing’ – she’d been practicing what she’d described as ‘stereotypical boomer verbs,’ and at least this week’s ‘flouncing’ was less awkward to watch than last week’s ‘mincing.’) The plopping sort of ruined the effect of the flouncing, but Hunter was hardly paying attention anyway, instead staring intently at their tablet.
“Whatcha looking at, my Magnificent Maenad of Maiden-Making?” Lori asked inquiringly. (She’d also been practicing what she described as ‘redundant overuse of adverbs,’ a subject that Hunter had absolutely refused to engage with out of a persistent desire to ignore things that are purely non-diegetic.)
“Uh… first off, never call me that again,” Hunter murmured, not taking their eyes off the screen. “Second, maenads are a Dionysus thing, not Artemis. Her retinue is mostly various kinds of wood nymphs, and I’m not that either. Yet, anyway. Third, I’m working. Checking through some of these Discord servers for potential, uh, clients.”
Lori grinned happily before realizing that Hunter didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. “But you get to feminize someone? That’s literally your divine vocation. Why are you sitting here looking like you just sank 30 hours into a D&D video game before learning they hadn’t even bothered to include the girdle of masculinity/femininity?”
That finally got Hunter to look up and pay full attention to their girlfriend. “That’s the sort of oddly specific complaint that only you could have, Lori. And you’re right, normally I’d love having an entire roster of closeted trans folks and just-a-really-good-ally-who-hasn’t-figured-it-out-yets to pick from, but… I just don’t know what I can do with some of the things these folks want…”
“Oh, let me see!” Lori peeked at the tablet screen curiously, and then let out a disapproving hiss. “Oh wow, age regression. Yeah, I see what you mean. That’s always going to be iffy. I get it as a wish-fulfillment thing, wanting the chance to grow up as the right gender and everything, but almost nobody ever seems to think through the logistics or ethics of it.”
“Wait, this is … a Thing? A capital-T Thing?”
“Oh, my Sweet Sorceress of Sororitude… never mind, even I know that one sucks,” Lori admitted self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, it’s a capital-T Thing. And it makes sense, especially for the folks who wish they could be in their late teens or early twenties again. You get that nice balance of having most of your adult autonomy without having a whole ton of adult responsibilities yet. But they also almost always want to have some romance in their life too. And when you really think about it, there’s probably no ethical way you can ever date someone. Or at least not till you’re well into adulthood again.”
“You can’t? Why not?”
“Well, if your apparent age changes significantly and your personality and memories remain the same, you’re basically an adult in a teen’s body . You can either date someone appropriate for your actual age and have it look like a really sketchy age difference, or you can date someone age-appropriate for your apparent age and then you’re…in a relationship that actually is a really sketchy age difference.. I don’t have to spell the problems with that one out for you, right?”
Hunter shook their head. “No, I definitely get where you’re coming from here. You’ve really thought a lot about this stuff, haven’t you?”
Lori glared at Hunter condescendingly. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Of course I have. Then you have the logistics, right? Are you still an adult, legally? It’s going to be pretty weird showing your ID for things. Or are you legally a minor? Well, then you’re going to either need to be emancipated – which means dropping all of those adult responsibilities you didn’t want anymore right back in your lap – or you’re going to need a guardian, and at that point you’re dragging someone else into the whole scenario who may or may not be on board with everything.” Lori breathlessly paused for breath. “And presumably it’s someone you have some sort of existing relationship with, like a spouse, and forcing that kind of change on someone else is kind of squicky. Or you’re putting yourself at the whims of the foster system, and there goes all of that almost-adult autonomy. And don’t even get me started on what it would mean for people who’d want to be tweens or younger.”
“I won’t, trust me,” Hunter mumbled, feeling a bit dazed from Lori’s lecture.
“I swear, the things eggs will do instead of going to therapy.” Lori rolled her eyes annoyedly.
Hunter opted to ignore that impressively self-unaware statement and turned their attention back to their tablet. “And then you’ve got this person, who wants to give up being an accountant and wishes they could be a Japanese–”
“Ugh, why is it always Japan?” Lori interjected frustratedly. “People need to realize that Japan is just another country, it’s not some magical land full of cutesy UwU schoolgirls and exotic customs. Anime-addled eggs are just the worst, I swear. It’s bad enough how mainstream society exoticizes and fetishizes East Asian women, but this whole thing where people are pining to be part of a culture they don’t actually know anything about outside of highly stylized and unrepresentative media depictions… it’s just… it’s creepy, honestly.”
“...there’s actually more,” Hunter sighed, “but you already covered the age regression. And I don’t even want to get into this whole thing about tentacles…”
But Lori didn’t even seem to be listening, as her pontificating continued. “Of course it’s not actually always Japan. But it is almost always a white person from North America who’s fantasizing about becoming a person of color, usually living in a completely different culture. And you know, there are just layers here. Like the people who want to go from having a high-status job as a white man – or, well, someone who’s perceived as a man – to being a nonwhite woman with what they think of as a menial job.”
Hunter considered that for a moment. “So you’re saying that to these people it’s all tied together as part of some larger humiliation kink?”
“Exactly,” Lori replied smugly. “And there’s nothing inherently wrong with humiliation! It can be a lot of fun. (Seriously, Hunter, remember that. Maybe write it down.) But if someone views that specific scenario as being humiliating, it speaks volumes about how they view people with blue collar jobs, BIPOC people, and women, doesn’t it? I can definitely get behind some nice, fun humiliation (you wrote that down, right? My birthday’s coming up soon, remember…), but I prefer it without a side order of classism, racism, and misogyny.”
“Lori, for a Business Administration major you sure spend a lot of time thinking about sociology and social relations. Have you ever considered changing fields?”
“Psh, of course not. I’m in this for the business attire and oversized desks that we could have a ton of fun on. Or under. Social workers don’t usually get offices that fancy.”
Hunter frowned. “Well wait, isn’t that also kind of classist of you then?”
“Eh, maybe a bit, but deep down for me it’s not a status thing, I just think pencil skirts are sexy. Anyway, I won’t deny that there might possibly be some profound sociological commentary to be had on the subject of racial and cultural transformation, but I’m pretty sure a white American in their 40s who just desperately wants to be Hatsune Miku isn’t the right person to be making it.”
Hunter nodded, pretending as best they could that they knew who or what Hatsune Miku was. “There’s also this last one I was reading about. They’ve apparently always had a very complicated relationship with their father. He remarried recently, and they don’t get along with their new stepmother at all. They’re talking about different ways they wish they could swap bodies with her or somehow steal her identity and seduce–”
“NOPE!” Lori declared decisively before plucking the tablet out of Hunter’s hands. “Hunter, sweetheart, love of my life, there is no good end to that sentence. In fact we really don’t want to have anything to do with any of these scenarios. I’m going to order us some pizza, and then we’re going to settle in for a quiet evening of nice, wholesome, non-problematic feminization here at home. How does that sound, O Dedicated Demideity of Damselification?”
Hunter smiled and gave Lori a quick peck on the lips. “It sounds perfect. And never call me that again either.”
Based Lori.
She definitely has her moments 😉
Oh i love this!
Thanks so much!
lmao, fantastic
Thanks! ☺️
🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵
☺️
This was hilarious and on point. Brava!