We were both quiet for a while as it became more and more obvious that we were both ignoring the more important issue. Part of me kind of didn’t want to bring it up at all. I mean, it was awkward asking someone who had a better handle on themselves to explain to me why I wasn’t like them. But we would probably both come out better for it.

“Hey, so, I had a bit of a weird experience at the store today when I was buying girl clothes. I was wondering if I could talk to you about some kinda serious stuff.” As I spoke, Dylan seemed to simultaneously become more tense and more relieved. It was an odd sight, but I could understand why they were both longing and dreading to have this talk.

“Go ahead.” Their voice was even, but unnaturally so, like they were forcing it. 

“I just, I’ve been having some weird feelings about this body, and its relationship to my gender and well. Listen, I didn’t mean to snoop, but I saw that book you had in your bag last night, the one about trans people. I figured, you probably know a lot about this sort of thing, so I’d come to you for advice.” By the time I was done talking, all of Dylan’s tension seemed to have dissolved, maybe just hearing that I was clearly open minded and accepting was enough.

“I’m really glad to hear you’re finally ready to talk about this, Jesse.” It was hard to explain, but the more I spoke to Dylan, the more I noticed their whole tone had shifted away from what I was used to. They spoke more softly, more gently to me. Like they were talking to a girl instead of talking to their best bro. It didn’t really bother me that much, to be honest, but still, it was odd. “I mean, to be honest I’m no expert. I only just checked that book out yesterday. I’ve only barely had the chance to skim through it, but I did take some notes to help me understand.” Typical Dylan; even when exploring their gender, they took such a clinical approach.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I don’t really need you to tell me what the psychologists and doctors say. I just wanted to know what it’s like for you, how it feels?” I winced a little, hoping that wasn’t too much for Dylan; I didn’t want to trigger their dysphoria. 

“How what feels?” they asked, which was odd; they’d seemed relieved at first, but now they were dancing around the issue so coyly.

“Y’know, your dysphoria,” I squeaked out.

“My what?” The sound which came from Dylan’s mouth could be described as somewhere between a shout and a gasp. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. If thinking too much about it is hard, I understand. I mean, it’s already hard enough for me to imagine going back to being a normal guy, it must be even worse for you.  Having to feel dysphoria while seeing me like this in front of you. Being confronted by what could be if things were different.” I got all that out as quickly as I could, looking at the floor in shame, wishing I could just unsay what I’d said. 

When I finally looked back up to return Dylan’s gaze, I could see the gears turning in their head. “Wait, Jesse, do you think I’m a trans man?”

“What? No, of course not. If you’d already transitioned you wouldn't need a book on being trans. You’re a girl, right? It’s okay, you can tell me, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” A long silence followed, in which Dylan stared at me, slack-jawed, at a loss for words. I could understand why they would feel that way; I’d clearly had them pegged on something they’d thought they were doing a really great job at hiding. I decided to give them time, let them think, let them process. Eventually, Dylan’s brain seemed to do a hard reboot, and they closed their mouth, only to open it again to respond.

“Jesse, I’m not trans. Being a girl sounds really unpleasant, and kinda scary. I like who I am, I like being big and tall and muscular.” What? Okay, obviously this was just a -- s e r i o u s -- case of denial. But I would help coax Dylan out of their shell. 

“Look, it’s okay, you don’t have to pretend anymore to like that stuff. I mean come on, if you want to convince me you’re not trans, at least come up with a more convincing story. Nobody likes being big and tall and masculine.” My speech seemed to be getting to them, because Dylan was staring at me mouth agape once again, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Uh, Jesse? Ah shit, uhh --”

“Don’t worry, I get it. I mean come on, body hair is so gross and rough. Who wouldn’t want smooth silky skin like girls have? Plus, you have to constantly take up so much space and also do that weird posturing around other guys while secretly feeling inferior to everyone around you. It’s a chore. It’s okay to admit you’d be more comfortable giving that up to be small and cute instead. You can even still lift weights, I plan on keeping that up.” I smiled, and flexed my much smaller, but still respectable for a girl, arm muscles. Dylan looked like they were about to short circuit.

“Listen, I don’t think you understand wha--”

“I do, though. That’s why I know you’re not telling the truth when you say you’re a guy because you like being big and tall and masculine. No guys like being big and tall and masculine. I can confirm that for you, because I’m a guy, and I much prefer this girly body to my old one. I mean come on, if even actual, real guys like me prefer being feminine, you can’t honestly try to tell me your excuses make any sense. Come on, it’s okay to just admit it, you’re a girl. I promise I’ll accept you for who you are.” I flashed Dylan a big, supportive smile. In that moment, Dylan began looking around the room in confusion, seemingly searching for something on the walls or ceiling or in their bookshelf. “Hey, what’s wrong, did you lose something?”

“I, uh, no. I didn’t, I just thought maybe, well -- You’ll have to forgive me, but, is this a fucking prank? Like, am I being recorded right now?” Of all the reactions I’d suspect Dylan to have, this was not one of them.

“Um, no?” At my reply, Dylan took another few seconds to unfreeze their brain, shook their head about as though to clear it, then gave me a serious, focused look.

“Okay, listen. I’m serious about enjoying being a guy. If you want, we can go around and ask every frat boy in this house if he would prefer being a guy or a girl and listen to their answers. I mean come on, everyone in this frat is a wizard. If we wanted to be girls, we would just be girls. So I need you to understand and believe me when I say this: I do not want to be a girl. Not even a little bit. I like girls, but only in the sexual or romantic sense. I have no interest in being one, or being anything like one, okay?” I took a moment to think everything he’d said over. And like, realistically it made sense; surely some guys had to enjoy being guys, otherwise there would be way more trans girls. But, wait, what did that say about me? Before I had a chance to interrogate that thought further, Dylan continued.

“Now, about the book. I got that because, given the way you responded to your changes, and now, especially considering everything you just told me, I’m pretty sure it is, in fact, you who is the trans girl. And, let me be clear, everything you said about acceptance goes for me too.” At first I tried to laugh, then I tried to shake my head, then I tried to stop shaking in general. That couldn’t be true, Dylan had to be wrong.

“B-but if I were trans I would have figured it out by now, I wasn’t like putting on my mom’s dresses as a little kid or anything,” I stammered. Why was I sweating so much? Dylan pulled out his phone, and tapped a few times before glancing back at me.

“Okay, I took some notes, so sorry if this feels kind of stilted, but this is what I learned from the book,” he began, in a fairly awkward, monotone voice that conveyed just how not used to doing this sort of thing he was. “Uhh, okay. Here’s what I wrote down; I’m paraphrasing, but this is more or less what that book says. Gender dysphoria can vary in the way it manifests itself, how it feels, and what age it begins to become prominent. A person can realize they are trans at any age, from their early childhood and through into old age.” Dylan gave me a pointed, but encouraging look.

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” I muttered quietly, trying and failing miserably to think about crows again. 

“Okay, well this one is more or less verbatim from the book, so forgive me if it’s a bit long and clinical sounding. ‘Generally speaking, a cisgender person’ -- which means not trans -- ‘will experience no strong desire to experience life as another gender. A cisgender man, for example, would think about what his life would be like if he were born a woman in the same way he might think about what his life would be like if he had been born twenty years in the future. Which is to say, as an interesting thought experiment, but no more, no less. Furthermore, even if a trans person experiences no dysphoria whatsoever, they may still feel a strong desire, or sense of euphoria, when imagining or experiencing themselves as the gender they truly are.” He looked up from his phone once more, and raised an expectant eyebrow. 

“B-but just cause I like being girly doesn’t mean I’m a girl. There are feminine guys,” I protested.

“Okay, well, if I could right here, right now, accelerate all the changes you’re going through to make it so you were indistinguishable from someone born female, would you want that?” I barely let him finish before blurting out a reply.

“W-wait, can you do that for me?” I asked excitedly.  Wait, why did I really, really want that? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

“Sadly no, that kind of magic is beyond me. But I’m sure someone could,” he said comfortingly. “Would you want that?” 

“I, um, I think I would,” I sniffled; was I crying? God dammit, what was happening to me?

“Okay, and I’m sorry in advance, but... Let’s just say, hypothetically, I turned you back to how you were be--”

“No! Please, please don’t,” I drew my arms inward, holding my own body for comfort, as though to remind myself that it was there, that it was good and right and better. Why was it better like this? Why weren’t those fucking crows sticking in my head?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t, I promise I won’t. So one last question. And this one is admittedly kind of more, I dunno, metaphysical? I’m not sure if that’s right. I’m no philosopher, but you get the point.” He paused to find the right words, “Jesse, do you want to be a girl? And I’m not just talking about your body, I’m talking about you, Jess, the person, the consciousness. Do you want to be a girl instead of a guy? Even a feminine guy?” I could tell from the look on Dylan’s face that he was at his wits end. 

“I um, yes?” I squeaked.

“Well, you’ve got a girl’s mind. Most people would say that’s enough, but on top of that your body is already pretty in line with what most people would consider to be a girl’s body. So what’s stopping you?” he asked, looking at me expectantly. What followed was a long, protracted silence as over and over I tried and failed to poke a hole in his logic. Before finally, I breathed out a tiny, stunned breath that carried with it one word.

“Oh.” 

SapphicSounds

Well that was strange, wasn't it? If you're enjoying things so far, you can currently get early access to all of this story, along with several other benefits such as exclusive audio content, exclusive writing, and pictures of my cat on my patreon for as little as $2 a month (cat pictures are gonna cost you extra though, sorry).