“Hello? I can help who’s next in line…”

 

Hearing the words jolts me out of the mild trance I was in while staring at the rows of vitamin gummies and I walk up to the counter, grimacing together the best smile I can muster.

 

“Hi there, just picking up my prescription. Last name is Sullivan.”

 

After tapping on her keyboard, the pharmacy tech nods and walks over to the rows of bags that hold filled prescriptions. The sheer fact that she’s doing it at all puts a great many of my anxieties to rest and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve had such trouble with getting my prescriptions filled in the past that any time it goes as smoothly as this I’m greatly comforted to say the least. Not that the troubles came from anyone in the pharmacy itself, thankfully they’ve all been incredibly lovely and helpful, but sometimes they simply don’t have what I need in stock or something went wrong higher up the chain of command and I’ve had enough of chewing out my provider for their lack of effort and communication in that regard. Plus with the possibility I might not have insurance after the new year I…

 

“..and did you need any needles today, dear?”

 

Once again, the question breaks me out of the diversion my brain was headed down and back into reality. The joys of having a brain that operates under the constraints of ADHD truly never gets any easier.

 

“Oh, yes please. Ten each of the 25 gauge and 18 gauge.”

 

I don’t actually need more needles, not immediately anyway, but the last thing I want to do is run out when I have to do my shot so I’ve learned to just ask for them anyway regardless of how many I actually have. The tech smiles as she gathers them up and I fidget nervously with the strap on my purse, waiting for this transaction to finally be over. 

 

Despite having done this same procedure at least once a month for nearly four years I still haven’t managed to feel fully comfortable with it. I know it’s nothing new but I still can’t shake the relative embarrassment that comes from picking up my prescriptions, even after all this time. Thankfully I’m not left alone with my thoughts too long as the tech comes back in record time.

 

“Did you need anything else today?”

 

I shake my head and hand her a $10 bill from my wallet. It still blows my mind that I’m able to pick up everything I need for only $4, something that only highlights the fact that, barring a miracle, I’m probably going to have to go back to paying fully out of my pocket for this once next month rolls around. Medicaid in this state is a pretty sweet deal if you can get on it, although it also requires you to be below a certain annual income level to maintain it and I almost certainly am not at that level anymore. Of course, it doesn’t help that I haven’t heard anything either way about it and that uncertainty is killing me more than anything. Yet again, I’m not given enough time to fully dwell on this info before I’m handed my change.

 

“Here you are, have a great rest of your day and happy new year!”

 

I take the change and force my best approximation of a smile in her direction, before diverting my gaze back towards the rows of vitamin gummies I was looking at before. There are lots of varieties to choose from but only one that I’m actually interested in, which I thankfully find without too much trouble. A friend of mine had recommended them to me as she had been having the same issues that I was experiencing with hair, but once she found the wonders of biotin that hadn’t really been a problem anymore, so I figured I should take her advice on that. 

 

The biotin gummies my eyes had landed on certainly seemed enticing enough, given that they had a light pink color in both the product and the packaging, so I grab them without much of a second thought and turn on my heel in the direction of the rest of the store to finish my shopping.

 

I don't get much further before I lock eyes with someone I recognize who proceeds to smile and wave as he makes his way over to me. Normally I would have cringed at the idea of a spontaneous social interaction in public but for some reason I’m actually rather pleased to see him.

 

“Hi Paige!” he says as he closes the gap. “How’s it going?”

 

I don’t have to force my smile too much this time.

 

“Oh hey David, not too bad actually! Just dealt with the monthly crapshoot of whether or not the pharmacy actually had what I needed,” I say as I indicate the bag in my hand.

 

David chuckles politely and I do so in return as he talks briefly about his day, which is about as routine as someone like him can manage. Not that he lives a boring life or anything, but it’s still what one might expect from a devoutly christian family man. David thankfully bucks all the negative stereotypes associated with that though, as he’s always been unfailingly polite to me and has never once misgendered me either. I’ve always felt very comfortable chatting with him, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s a spectacular photographer who has always managed to capture my best side whenever I’m on or off the stage. 

 

That said, I can only really chat with him about so much because we both live very different lives, and we generally don’t have too much to share with each other, which he thankfully picks up on and offers me a graceful exit from the conversation.

 

“...anyways, I gotta go find my wife who’s managed to disappear into this crowd somewhere. Nice chatting with you, and happy new year!” he says with a smile and a wave, as he heads on his way deeper into the store.

 

I return the well wishes in kind, even though they do remind me of the ticking clock associated with my insurance. I shake those thoughts away by reminding myself that I was at least able to score a vial of estradiol before that possibly becomes an issue, which means I’ve got at least three months worth of the stuff with what I still have left. I try to remember what else I need as a means of distracting myself further as I make my way into the gently surging crowd. I really need to remember to write this stuff down at some point…

 

• -

 

After scanning and bagging the last of my items and tapping my card on the reader I’m finally ready to leave the store, much to my relief. I still can’t believe how much anxiety I get from being out in public, even though very little of it comes from my appearance anymore. I’ve definitely gotten used to dressing more outwardly feminine and I generally don’t give a shit what people think about it, mostly because my mind doesn’t dwell on those issues so much anymore in lieu of all the other anxiety I’ve replaced it with. 

 

Unfortunately, that all threatens to get thrown to the wind as I reach the exit and a big bearded dude with a trucker hat comes in before I get to the door. I don’t slow my stride any, and neither does he, but as we pass our eyes meet briefly and I can see in his gaze the disapproving and judgemental thoughts he’s no doubt casting my way. 

 

I’ve thankfully not experienced any direct outward bigotry from members of my community since starting my transition, but occasionally I do have to deal with the withering stare of someone who more than likely would have been at the Capitol on January 6th if they could have afforded the airfare. I thankfully don’t have too much time to dwell on those thoughts because the moment I step outside the biting wind clears my head of anything other than how fucking cold it is, and I pull my jacket closer to my chest as I make my way to car as quickly as possible. 

 

As I see my car in the distance and the thought of finally getting home starts to become more tangible, I begin envisioning what the rest of my evening would look like. Sam is still out of town visiting his family on the east coast so I’ve got the house to myself, maybe I could take up Lily on that offer of playing some co-op Tarkov for once. That, or I could just spend another evening at my computer whiling away the hours constantly refreshing all my social media and news sites while half-watching a YouTube video on the second monitor.

 

Either one is equally tantalizing, but my thoughts on the matter are cut short as I hear a car approaching from a distance and I look up instinctively in its direction. It’s a small blue car that looks strikingly similar to…

 

“Wait… fuck!” I say unconsciously as I realize that it most definitely is the car owned and currently being driven by my mother, who notices me and waves excitedly much to my chagrin. Without thinking I quicken my pace to my car door and swing it open to shove my grocery bag inside, hoping beyond hope that my mom doesn’t want to stop and I can just continue on my way without having to chat. That fear sadly goes unallayed as she opts to pull up beside me, forcing me to turn around with my most ironed-on smile yet as her passenger door window rolls down.

 

“Hi Mom…” I say without trying to grit my teeth. 

 

“Hey Paige!” my mom says cheerfully. I silently curse my luck, even though I should have known it was possible as she tends to go out thrifting and running errands on Saturdays so it’s not really a surprise to run into her like this, although I still can’t believe that our paths actually crossed in such a manner, even for a town as small as this one.

 

“Fancy seeing you here!” she says with a similar level of cheeriness, that I can’t hope to match. “Are you just running errands?”

 

“Yeah, had to pick up some stuff and grab some essentials,” I say while motioning to the bag now in my passenger's seat, electing not to mention the cavalcade of junk food and cheap carbohydrates stuffed inside.

 

“Oh hey, check out what I found, I think you might like it…” she says as she rummages around in the backseat, ultimately pulling out a patterned green blouse. “Cute, huh? I got it at the thrift store thinking it might be nice, but if I don’t end up wanting it would you possibly like to have it?”

 

Taking a good hard look at it I genuinely can’t say that I don’t, it’s my favorite shade of green and the pattern is very pretty and floral. I feel a rising lump in my throat at how thoughtful a gesture it is, even if it came with the caveat of “If I don’t want it” it’s still hard for me not to feel rather moved. My mom has always struggled with good clothing recommendations for me and I felt that a lot of it, especially earlier in my transition, came from a misguided place to try and reach me in that sense. That or she wanted to ignore what was going on, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

 

“Wow, yeah it’s really nice.” I say with unexpected sincerity. “What size is it?”

 

“It’s an XL,” she says with a knowing look, which is what finally makes me flinch a tad, although thankfully she picks up on that and doesn’t press it further. My weight has always been something of a touchy subject for me and one of several that I’ve had to put a rather hard limit on discussing, unless I’m feeling fully comfortable with it.

 

Diverting the subject, she says, “So… hey, I just realized that I have some stuff for you to bring back to the office when break’s over. You’re back in on Tuesday, right?”

 

Business talk brings me back to normal, as it generally does whenever I talk about anything related to the theatre. “Oh, I actually don’t know. Jessie hasn’t really discussed when we’re back in the office so…”

 

“What??” she says with slight incredulity and amusement. “But that’s the second day of the new year! How would you not be back?”

 

I grimace visibly at the interruption and reply, a little more heated and tersely than I’d prefer, “I don’t know. She didn’t mention it on our last day before the break, and I haven’t heard from her about it. So I don’t know what the plan is.”

 

She opens her mouth to speak but thinks better of it, opting to just let the moment hang. I’m all but certain she was going to recommend I text Jessie to gather that info but she knows how much I hate unwanted advice, having been on the receiving end of my less than enthusiastic response to it plenty of times. I appreciate her not saying anything, if nothing else.

 

I take a deep breath before continuing, “So yeah, I figure it’ll be at some point soon after the new year but I don’t know because she hasn’t told me.”

 

She doesn’t say anything in response, only to nod softly and look at me in the way that is so blatantly obvious what her thoughts are. Those being ones of fear and anxiety about my future, seemingly far more than the ones currently occupying my brain which are not insignificant in the first place. I realize that there’s not much more I can get out of this interaction, so I opt to try and leave it on a positive and conciliatory note.

 

“When did you want to meet for dinner on New Year's Day, the usual time?”

 

The question thankfully drags her out of her anxious thoughts and she smiles as she says, “Oh yeah, figured we should keep it regular. So, see you around 5 or 6 then?”

 

I force another smile as I reply, “Yep, some point around then. Let me know if you need anything from town.”

 

“Will do,” she says warmly, “See you then dear, love you!”

 

“I love you too mom,” I return before she rolls up the window. “See you on the 1st.”

 

With a final wave I hurriedly enter my car and quickly turn the ignition, not pausing too much as I take a quick look behind me to back up. Once I’m out of the worst of the parking lot traffic, I finally take some time to reflect on the thoughts now firmly occupying my brain, being that of the interaction I’d just endured. I even have to chastise myself for thinking of it in that manner because it truly wasn’t the worst of these kinds of encounters, far from the contrary actually. For one, she’d actually picked out some clothing that I might honestly like, although it certainly is hard to take it at face value when she admitted it was only if she didn’t want it to begin with. Also, having her recognize when the things she’s saying are pushing the wrong buttons and just not saying anything at all in response is most assuredly a step forward too. 

 

It really does suck that we have to repeat these same stupid patterns every time we see each other, and I hate that seemingly nothing’s changed no matter how many times it all gets brought up. Maybe on the 1st we can finally have that big breakthrough we’ve been working towards…

 

“SHIT!!” I scream as I realize I’ve forgotten to turn in the direction of my final errand. I had maneuvered into the right lane to head home, completely oblivious that I’d meant to grab a tea infuser as well. No doubt due to having been so caught up in the moment I’d just had, and it’s not like this hasn’t happened before. “Goddamn, maybe I really should be on medication of some kind if this keeps happening,” I mutter to myself. Not that I haven’t tried it in the past, but nothing seems to stick or seem worth the price of admission. I shake my head clear of any more of these thoughts as I whip the car around rather ungracefully, and weather a dirty look from the person in the next lane at my reckless driving while I press onward, in the right direction this time.

 

Of course, just my luck, the kitchenware store that I was planning on patronizing happens to be closed today which means that my options just went from nil to zero, because there’s no way in hell I’m going back into that sea of people at the grocery store for something that they may not even have in stock, and certainly not in anything outside of the planned obsolescence and boring utility that a chain supermarket is known for. It’s at that moment, however, that the thought strikes me that my options may possibly not be that limited after all. 

 

I continue on down the road in the direction of Divinitea, a place that I’d all but completely forgotten existed because until recently I had no reason to actually go inside, and actually still haven’t yet. It’s a small tea shop that opened up about a year ago in town and has attracted a small but devoted following in that time, as well as a great many detractors due to them offering tarot readings and wicca-related objects for sale. Even though I’ve never patronized them before I still have a lot of respect for what they do, primarily for the reason that it pisses off the squares so damn much. I’d sure assume if any place in town has what I need they would, but it is on the later side so I might just have to say “fuck it” if they aren’t open and try again tomorrow. If I can even remember to do that…

 

Thankfully, as the small building shows up in the distance when I turn the corner, I gratefully see that the open sign is still blazing forth its steady neon glow and I quickly turn into the parking lot. After sliding into a spot I shut my car off and step outside within two seconds of doing so, hoping as I approach that I didn’t show up too late and the sign was instead playing a cruel trick on me, but the door opens to let me inside as I press down on the handle and I step in with only a momentary hesitation. 

 

The inside is rather dark, and a bit cramped, but very full of just about everything one might expect from a specialty tea and wicca shop in the middle of nowhere. Lots of jars, all full of loose leaf teas that I’ve never even heard of, surrounded by stacks of old books, beaded and feathered necklaces, and enough gothic bric-a-brac to choke eight Tim Burtons. Looking around I spot someone near the counter, sweeping with their back turned to me and humming along to the tune in their airpods, clearly oblivious to my presence. I consider simply perusing the shelves until they notice me, but given I wouldn’t even know where to begin with the chaos of this organizational system I opt instead to break the ice.

 

“Uhh, hey there…” I say rather nervously, never a fan of having to initiate these kinds of interactions. 

 

The broom bearer whips around at my voice with a start, having been caught off guard by the sudden intrusion into what they thought was alone time. They’re tall, slender, with short brown hair, and dressed about as classically enby as possible in brown slacks, worn birkenstocks, round glasses, and a white t-shirt with hand-drawn patterns in black sharpie that’s cut off just above their midriff. 

 

Amidst the sudden shock on their face I also detect a hint of annoyance as well, not surprising given they were probably getting ready to close, but it sure doesn’t do anything to make me feel better about the situation. Thankfully, they put that annoyance behind them and affect a fairly typical customer service voice as they respond.

 

“Hey there, and welcome to Divinitea,” they respond as cheerily as they can, which is to say still quite strained, as they quickly pull out their airpods. Their voice sounds extremely familiar, albeit different enough that it causes no small measure of confusion. Coupled with this is the realization that they also look quite familiar too, which causes me to accidentally stare rather intensely in an attempt to sus things out.  “Can I help you find something tod…?”

 

Their voice trails off as they notice my intense gaze, and after a fractional moment of discomfort they realize that they have cause to do the same as their eyes go wide with shock at the moment of recognition, about half a second before mine hits me as well.

 

“Wait…” they say incredulously, “You helped coach DDF, didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah!” I say enthusiastically, it finally starting to settle in, “The summer after I graduated college I was an assistant coach for a year! You were a senior that year, right?”

 

“Totally!” they say with all traces of antagonism or false customer-service cheeriness gone. “What’s your name? I mean, I think I remember a name but I’m willing to say you don’t go by that anymore given, y’know…” they say as they indicate my general appearance.

 

I laugh rather heartily, appreciating the thought put into the gesture, before responding, “Yeah, you got that one right. I go by Paige now, have been for about 4 years.”

 

“Sick!” they say with a much warmer smile than I’ve gotten from anyone else all day, “I go by Breeze these days myself, if you’re curious.” They wink and stick out their tongue slightly as they say that, like it’s some sort inside joke I’m supposed to get. I don’t, but I laugh anyway.

 

“Well, shit, I didn’t realize you were in town again!” I say with equal measures excitement and incredulity, “What brought you back?”

 

Breeze chuckles softly and rolls their eyes, “Oh, more circumstance than anything. I spent some time abroad both in Europe and Asia after college working on my art but only for a few years before returning to the states. Lived on the east coast until a few months ago, pretty much doing whatever I could attempting to break into the art scene there. Didn’t really make much of a splash in that regard, but living there was where I finally had the ‘deep thoughts’ necessary to start transition. Luckily I was still on my parent’s insurance so I managed to get in just under the wire for top surgery without needing to pay out of pocket for it.” 

 

Breeze grins slyly as they subtly push their chest forward, which is indeed flat as a board. I grin as I reach out to give them a high-five, which they enthusiastically return.

 

“Hell yeah!” I say with a renewed vigor at the idea of having someone else to relate to in this town. “Way to get the man to pay for your gender, right?”

 

This gets a stronger laugh from Breeze than I expected, “Hahaha, yeah exactly! Thankfully that was the only real surgery I was desperate for too. Not that I could’ve afforded any others, especially after…” they trail off with a noticeable declension in their voice and demeanor, which only lasts a few seconds before they snap back. 

 

“Well, anyways,” they continue with a tinge of embarrassment, “I kiiinda ran out of money about eight months ago, not long after my 31st birthday actually, so I didn’t really have much choice but to toss a hail mary my folks’ way, which they gratefully picked up. They paid for my airfare and put me up in a dry cabin on their property; they’re still charging me rent, which certainly is not an ideal situation but it’s better than being homeless in Boston, and plus the amount they’re charging is small enough that it still allows me to actually save the money I earn as long as I don’t treat myself too much.”

 

I stare at them, not quite sure how to respond other than how I always handle these situations, which is to say with a conciliatory tone, “Oh, wow, that sounds like a lot. Are you doing okay?”

 

Breeze nods vigorously and forces a smile in the process. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Life sucks me down and spits me out from time to time, like it can do for anyone, but I’m still standing and no worse for the wear either. Guess I got that dog in me, y’know?” 

 

Breeze attempts to laugh at their joke but I don’t really join them, which causes a slight but noticeable pall in their expression. The shift in tone of the conversation was a bit quick for my liking, as I had no idea they had both done so much and had experienced such a seemingly quick downfall, on top of it being a rather stark reminder that my trajectory after leaving college was to simply move back home. 

 

Given how reticent Breeze seems to share any more info, in addition to now looking rather sullen at the memory of it all, I don’t press the issue any further and instead shift to the reason why I showed up to begin with.

 

“Sooo… I was wondering if you guys possibly had any infusers for sale?”

 

The question works a treat and snaps them out of their thoughts and back to business. It’s a trait I very much can relate with, and my face betrays a small smirk because of it. 

 

“Oh yeah, absolutely!” They excitedly bound over to a section of the store that’s much larger than the hallway I came down, with plenty of tables and chairs scattered throughout, and points to a shelf of canisters and large containers filled with assorted loose leaf teas, indicating one rack in particular with a large variety of infusers. “Just take your pick! Were you looking for anything specific?”

 

I laugh at the question, “Ah jeez, I think it’s ultimately all the same to me. I only just started drinking tea recently, always been more of a coffee gal myself, but when I ran out of it a couple weeks back I made myself some English Breakfast Tea that my roommate had in my rush out the door and I ended up kinda falling for it. I still haven’t done much diversifying in that area but I coincidentally was gifted some loose leaf Iccha Kariban for christmas and I haven’t had anything to actually steep it in.”

 

Breeze chuckles in response, “Well no worries, just take your time and let me know if I can help you any. Well, maybe don’t take too much time because you did happen to walk in right before we close, but you get the idea.” They wink at me again as they walk over to the entrance to turn off the open sign.

 

I smile at the offer and turn my attention back to the quite frankly absurd number of infusers they happen to carry. I can’t imagine there’s enough tea snobs in this town to justify all of this inventory, but then again this is a world I have precisely zero familiarity with so I push those thoughts to the back of my head and keep looking. My eyes settle on one that I reach out to grab while stepping forward, before I feel my foot make contact with something underneath the bottom shelf. 

 

Puzzled, I look down to see a small, aluminum cylinder about 6 inches long and 3 inches in diameter rolling slowly away from me. I grab it before it goes any further and hold it up to my face to see what it is, which offers me little help considering the only identifying marker it has is a sloppily glued-on label written in a language I can’t understand one lick. About the only indication is that the characters are clearly hiragana or kanji of some kind, although given I don’t know any language other than english that does little to narrow it down for me outside of it being of East Asian. They also seem to be closer to something you’d see in calligraphy rather than normal lettering, although I can’t tell if that’s just me being uninformed. 

 

Turning my attention away from the label, I notice that the cylinder itself is closed off on the bottom and has a lid on top which seems to indicate that it’s clearly holding something, a suspicion that ends up confirmed when I give it a quick shake and feel something loose jumble around inside, and given my current location I think what that something is is fairly obvious. I’m tempted to open it just to see what exactly it contains, but I opt not to considering the top has been sealed tight with wax. 

 

I’m still puzzling it out when Breeze returns and slyly sticks their head over my shoulder.

 

“Whatcha find, Paige?”

 

I yelp loudly at their sudden appearance in both my periphery and right eardrum to the point that I almost drop the canister. I look back at them as they bend over howling with laughter at their little joke, as I glare with only half-hearted annoyance at nearly being given a heart attack. I remember something they’d mentioned earlier and take the opportunity to put one over on them instead.

 

“You tell me,” I say as I extend the canister in their direction. “You’re the only one here and I can’t read a word of this label. You said you spent some time in Asia, right?”

 

As Breeze finally gathers themselves and stops laughing, they take the canister and look it over, squinting at the label. “Yeah, but it was only about a year and I spent pretty much all of that time in the Philippines, and I can tell you that this definitely isn’t tagalog. I did spend a month in Kyoto but that wasn’t nearly enough time to learn as much of the language as I’d have preferred. I can say it does look pretty similar to most of the hiragana I saw although it’s way fancier, which unfortunately doesn’t do me any favors as far as helping translate anything.” 

 

They turn the canister over in their hands several times before handing it back to me with a puzzled look, “Where did you find it?”

 

I shrug, “I was about to grab one of these infusers when I felt my foot hit something, and when I looked down it was rolling across the floor.”

 

Breeze grins as they affect a mock professorial voice and demeanor, “Ahh, yes, the elusive ‘Floor Tea’, imbued with the healing and transformative powers of oak boards and dust bunnies!” 

 

They laugh some more and I grin and chuckle as well. It’s always nice seeing someone who likes to put on a voice for a joke, although given their history with drama I can’t say I’m too surprised.

 

“But yeah, it’s probably a random sample that we got in our latest delivery,” they say in their regular voice again. “We tend to get those pretty frequently, although this is the first time I’ve seen something so unclear as to its origin.”

 

I stare back down at it, rather captivated by the mystery I happen to hold in my hands and acting on a surge of daring energy that seems to come from nowhere at all, I hold it up as I turn my gaze back towards Breeze.

 

“How much for the Floor Tea, then? I mean, if that’s cool and everything.”

 

They seem rather shocked by my question. “Really? I was probably gonna just put it in the return box since the boss doesn’t generally stock anything new unless she gets a significant demand for it. I wouldn’t even know what to charge you.”

 

The thought sits with them for a moment before they finally respond, “Well… why don’t you just take it?”

 

I cock an eyebrow at the suggestion, “Are you sure? I feel bad not paying you for it, and if it’s gonna get you in any trouble…”

 

Breeze laughs at the suggestion. “Hah! Nah, that’s not gonna happen. The boss is pretty chill all considered, and I’ve seen her give people more free samples than anyone else I’ve ever worked for. We get by mainly on the wicca stuff we sell and any events we host here, specialized high teas and the like, so we don’t tend to make much bank off of the tea itself.” 

 

I’m about to speak again before Breeze holds their hand up definitively. “Keep it! Just lemme know if it makes you throw up your small intestine so I can deny ever having met you.” They give me another wink as they chuckle, and I join them again in their laughter.

 

“Well, if you say so,” I say as I slide the canister under my arm while reaching with my other one for the boxed-up infuser I’d spotted before, “But I will take this too, and I’m not gonna accept any more charity.” I give them a wink of my own, which they smirk at.

 

“You got it, babe!” They take the box from me and walk behind the counter to ring it up. As they do, my eyes drift to an array of crystals and stones behind the display case set into the counter. Some are loose, others in bands and rings, but most are strung up around various chains or lengths of twine as necklaces and pendants. 

 

One in particular catches my eye and I end up staring at it for an inordinately long amount of time, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Breeze.

 

“Something else catch your fancy?”

 

“Oh!” I say with a bit of a start, “I was just looking at some of these designs and I couldn’t help noticing that green and yellowish one with all of the striations.”

 

They reach into the display and pull out the pendant I’m pointing at, holding it up in front of me by the twine attached to it. “This one? Because good choice if so, labradorite is one of my favorite stones!”

 

While I can’t say I’d ever heard of it before now I must say I’m tempted to agree with them. The color of the stone shifts every time the light strikes a different angle, which is rather frequent at the moment as it rocks back and forth from the momentum of Breeze holding it up so quickly. 

 

“How much is it?” I ask, almost mesmerized by its beauty.

 

Breeze takes a quick look on the back, where I assume a price tag is stuck. “This one is $45, but it’s also one of our cheaper options too.”

 

I flinch visibly at hearing the price. It might not be that much compared to most other jewelry options but at the moment, while I’m still waiting on a paycheck after having paid all my bills, it’s pretty much a non-option if I still want to put gas in my car. I shake my head sadly, “Sorry man, a bit too far out of my budget right now.”

 

Breeze gives me a soft and pitying eye, before their face breaks into a gentle and warm smile. “Tell you what, how about I buy it for you?”

 

My heart just about stops in my chest at their words. “W-what?! No, I can’t let you do that! You said you needed to save your money while you’re living with your folks and…” I struggle to put my next point into words before steeling myself and blazing ahead, “... and I already said I don’t need any charity.”

 

Breeze laughs again but with a much softer and less sarcastic edge than before. “Paige, I’m doing ok. The rent they charge me is a pittance all considered and I’m making more than enough. We’ve got another high tea planned for just after the new year and if the others I’ve worked are any indication I’ll make this amount 3 times over just in the gratuity alone. Consider it a late christmas present, if you want something else to call it other than charity.” 

 

I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat and I opt to shake my head instead, my pride still refusing to accept help. They frown softly at my reticence, and reach out with their free hand and lay it on top of mine, which causes my heart to go from a dead stop to a full sprint, something not helped as they stare directly into my eyes. 

 

“Paige,” they say as earnestly as they can, “I don’t want to presume anything, but I will say that I do I think having this pendant would be advantageous for you. I don’t know how much stock you put into this kinda stuff, but labradorite is a stone that is very much associated with transformation, and…” 

 

They take a moment to find their words, temporarily breaking their gaze as they do, “...and I don’t know how far you’ve gone or intend to go with your transition, but I just hope that you reach your goals with it no matter what. All of us deserve that, and everyone should be so lucky.”

 

I’m left completely speechless at those last words, as it’s one of the most genuine sentiments I’ve ever received from anyone, about my transition or otherwise. As Breeze withdraws their hand from mine I happen to notice the ring they’re wearing, which is the same striated green and yellow stone as the one they’re still holding in front of me. 

 

Almost by instinct I hold out my hand as they drop it into my open palm, upon which they reach into their back pocket to pull out their wallet.

 

“Besides, it’s not just associated with transformation, but protection as well.” Breeze punches some numbers into the register as it pops open with a typical ka-ching sound and they stuff two $20s and a $5 inside. “And I don’t care who you are, we could all use a little extra of that, right?” They hold out their hand expectantly as they say it, giving me a wry smile.

 

I suddenly remember the infuser that’s currently sitting on the counter and snap out of the trance I found myself in, reaching for my purse in the process. “Yeah… yeah I think you’ve got a good point there.” I hand them a $20 of my own, which they quickly process change with and hand back to me, along with the same wry smile they’ve worn for most of this interaction.

 

“Glad to help a fellow passenger in this life,” they say with undeniable warmth, “And I hope you get good use out of that infuser too. It’s the same one I have at home.”

 

I smile and nod as I pick up my purchase and turn to leave, before I feel that same renewed boldness flowing through me and turn on my heel back to them again. 

 

“Say, Breeze…” I say, swallowing quickly before my nerves get the better of me, “I don’t know if you ever want someone to chat with off the clock, but I know how lonely this town can get for people like us, especially at this time of year. If you want I can give you my number, and you can feel free to call or text me anytime you’d like.”

 

If they’re surprised by my offer it doesn’t show on their face, and instead they simply smile wide as they pull their phone out of their pocket. “That sounds like a lovely idea. Fire away hun, I’m ready.”

 

I smile back even wider and rattle off my number to them, and we finally part ways with a final wave and well wishes as I make my way through the store and back from where I came. Making it out to my car, I ungracefully fish my keys out of my pocket while fumbling with everything else I’m carrying before finally unlocking and opening the door. Once inside I drop my recently acquired goods into my grocery bag and pull out my phone to check the time. Surprisingly, I’d spent nearly 20 minutes in there which would have caused me a pang of guilt for keeping Breeze past their closing time, had it not been for the text I also see from an unrecognized number claiming to be them, both confirming their number and thanking me for the conversation, along with wishing me a happy new year. 

 

I beam wide and shoot them back a quick reply, wishing them the same, before putting my sedan in reverse and finally turning onto the road back home.

 

• - 

 

The drive to my house always seems to take so much longer than it actually is, despite it only being just over a mile. Maybe it’s because I still manage to get so lost in my own head the entire time, or because I tend to have the good fortune of driving home at the same time as everyone else. Even if we had a two-lane highway I can’t imagine it would make things any quicker. Regardless of how long it takes, or feels like it takes anyways, I ultimately find myself back in my driveway and breathe a massive sigh of relief. 

 

“Home again, home again, jiggity-jig…” I say to myself, as has managed to become my custom upon arrival.

 

I step outside of the car with my grocery bag tucked under my arm, locking the car behind me and fumbling to find the house key as I approach the door. Once I locate it and undo the deadbolt, I open the door to find Max waiting for my return. Or rather, waiting for me to refill her bowl. I chuckle as I reach down to give her pets and scratch her ears, which she tolerates for a second before demuring and trotting over to her food bowl expectantly. 

 

I close the door behind me and fish out a can of wet food from the grocery bag before setting it down, which causes her to bob her head in surprise at the treat. I lay some dry food on the bottom of the bowl before cracking the can and pouring it over top, which Max takes as her cue to begin devouring greedlily. I bend over to give her more pets and she purrs contentedly, wrapping her tail around my arm as I do. 

 

Smiling at one of my favorite daily interactions, I carry my groceries to the kitchen, whereupon I get to work putting away everything I’d acquired. It’s all so routine and familiar, the same basic easily prepared dishes that require little thought or effort to make and are highly processed and unhealthy, but are at least comforting and familiar. I wonder for a moment if I’ll ever get back to making food for myself again, but the black cloud generated by the long stretch of time I spent working in the kitchens of various restaurants around town still hasn’t dissipated. It’s hard to break an association with something that was such a toxic presence in my life, however necessary it might have been. 

 

Not helping anything is my near complete inability to actually break out of any negative habits and traits, which has led to my personal life becoming a disorganized and chaotic mess. Even at 36 I still can’t seem to break those habits, which I know isn’t necessarily the end of the world but it doesn’t do my mental health any favors either. 

 

“Whatever,” I say to myself as I continue haphazardly shoving things into cabinets and the fridge, “It’s not like something is just gonna come along and magically change all of that… and I’d still gotta be willing to really do the work too, even if that was the case.”

 

My thoughts on the matter are paused once I realize I’ve reached the bottom of the bag, save for the handful of items I got at Divinitea. I pull them out and set them on my countertop, contemplating facetiously for a half-second if they’ll be the ones to catalyze that change. I laugh sardonically and shake my head at the thought. While I do appreciate Breeze’s enthusiasm and generosity, I can’t say that some pretty stone or a mysterious, vaguely Asian tea I found on a dusty floor is gonna make any kind of a tangible difference.

 

I’m about to stash it away in the back of a cabinet before I realize I haven’t actually confirmed whether or not the canister even has tea in it, so I grab a butter knife from my cutlery drawer and slowly peel away the wax sealing the lid. Once I get enough of it off I give the lid a twist and it gently pops off in my hand. Looking down into the canister I notice an assortment of various leaves and herbs that would confirm it is indeed a tea blend of some kind. I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply, only to be quickly overwhelmed by the intense scent that hits my nostrils. 

 

“Jesus!” I exclaim with a start backwards, coughing as I do. Not because it’s an unpleasant smell, far from it actually, but I’ve never in my life smelled a tea that was so strong, especially before brewing it. I chalk that up to my relative inexperience in the matter and cautiously bring it up for another evaluation. 

 

One decidedly more gentle sniff later and I’m still hit with the same potent scent, only with less of the intensity and I’m therefore able to better evaluate it. Not that my nose is particularly adept at filtering out different scents, especially after breaking it 15 years ago, but there are a couple I’m able to pin down. The main one has a distinct mintiness, almost like menthol, and the second is a sharp and pungent aroma that feels very reminiscent of most earl gray teas I’ve had, which means it’s probably bergamot. 

 

I take another cautious sniff and while nothing new is revealed to me, other than a general earthiness, I start to become more enraptured by the intoxicating smell coming out of the canister. It feels like it’s clearing my head in ways I never knew were possible, and not just my messed up sinuses either. “Damn, this stuff smells pretty great,” I say to myself as I look back up at the cabinet, where I see sitting the Iccha Kariban I’d planned on brewing when I got home. 

 

I look back at the open canister in my hand as I shake my head vigorously. “Heck, that can wait, I gotta try whatever’s in here!”

 

I set my mind to my task and busy myself getting everything ready, starting with filling my electric kettle and then selecting the right mug for the job. That second bit is not an easy assignment, mainly due to Sam’s obsession with mug collecting that makes up well over half of our shared kitchen items. I settle on one of the bigger ones that we have, which is covered in various Shakespearean insults, and then go about the business of putting my new infuser to work. I open the box and take a good look at the device inside before extracting it; it’s a pretty standard ball-type mesh infuser, save for its shape which is in that of a heart. 

 

I can’t help but smile at myself for getting something cute without consideration as to its possible utility, but Breeze said they had the same one too and if it’s good enough for them I can’t argue with that. I pull it out of the box and undo the latch, opening it up and then measuring out about a teaspoon and a half’s worth of the mystery blend and dumping it inside. I close it up, latch it, and then fasten it to the handle of my mug before slinging it over to dangle on the inside. 

 

I only have a moment to admire my handiwork before I hear the kettle click off as it finishes its boil. I grab it and fill my mug eagerly, letting the hot water flow directly over the infuser as I do. As it does I finally start to experience the aroma of the tea in earnest, and it’s even more intoxicating than I could have imagined. All the scents, even the ones I can’t quite pick out, are magnified and tenfold more intense, and my head swims for a moment as the hot vapor tickles my sinuses and opens them wider than they’ve been in well over a decade. 

 

“Gosh, the next time I get sick I’m just gonna make some of this stuff. Screw that stupid neti pot!” I laugh at my comment and stare expectantly at the mug, waiting for it to cool down, before I realize I still have to let the tea steep for at least 5 minutes or so. I break my gaze from the gently brewing elixir and decide to clean up a tad before indulging. I wipe down the counter of some crumbs from last night and pull a broom through the kitchen, which only has so much of an effect before I realize the floor is in dire need of a good mopping. 

 

I shrug and promise to do it later, as always, and instead turn to grab the grocery bag off the counter to stick into the recycling hutch before I notice the last of my purchases, still sitting next to it.

 

I pick up the labradorite pendant, holding it up by its twine as I take a good look at it. The light shining through it is as mesmerizing as it was back in Divinitea, and I find myself lost in its beauty. I unclasp the metal fasteners on the back and slide it around my neck, locking it back in place once I’m able to make the two ends meet again. 

 

I walk over to the full-length mirror and take a good long look at it, or rather myself as I wear it. It hangs down just low enough that it only barely slides between my breasts while resting more on top of them, or at least it would if my breasts weren’t so goddamn wonky. 

 

I grimace as the thought kickstarts my brain into the first rising waves of a dysphoria spiral, and I find myself once again evaluating all of the features that continue to cause me so much self doubt and discomfort, even after nearly 4 years of transition: My weird, pointy breasts that grow out of my chest as though gravity is pulling them away from each other, the fact that even after a full course of laser hair removal I still have stubble on my chin and lip that I need to shave, my dry and patchy skin that only occasionally needs to weather a flareup of eczema, my square jaw that sabotages every effort of mine to try and read more feminine, the area downstairs I’m just not going to dwell on any more than need be lest I start fully dissociating, but most disheartening of all is my weight. 

 

There are so many issues I have with the general shape of my body because of my weight, but the worst of them is unquestionably the fact that nearly all of it is disproportionately centered in my belly. I don’t have curves the way I want to, and I wouldn’t even mind having a little extra down in that area if that were the case, but for all of it to make its way exclusively down there? And not to my hips or ass or breasts? It sucks a pretty big and fat one to say the least. 

 

Not helping matters is that any fat that doesn’t go directly to my belly makes its way to my face, which just makes the whole situation even more egregious. It essentially makes it impossible to distance the image of myself from who I was when I started transition to who I am now; about the only real difference to me anyways is that I don’t have a beard and have longer hair. Sure, my boobs do help somewhat, but given that they aren’t shaped in a way that looks right and with such a big gut hanging off of me I sometimes feel like they’re just glorified manboobs more than anything else. 

 

All of these thoughts swarm in my head and threaten to overtake me as I unconsciously clutch the pendant in my hands and tears form in the corner of my eyes… that is, before I catch a whiff of the scent emanating from my mug and my brain snaps back to attention. 

 

“Oh, right!” I rush back to the kitchen and grab my cup of tea, bobbing the infuser gently to help it release a bit more of its essence. I give it another deep inhale and all the dysphoria I was obsessing over a second ago melts away in a haze of minty earthiness. 

 

I’m tempted to take a sip but I figure I should at least get a bit more comfortable before I do, in addition to letting it cool down just a tad longer, so I bring it with me into my bedroom and set it on my desk while I take my seat in front of my computer and bring it out of sleep mode. 

 

I look around and take stock of my room as I wait for it to boot up and, unsurprisingly, find myself getting depressed all over again. Yeah, I’ve never been the most organized person but this place is still ridiculous. Clothing piled everywhere, bed eternally unmade, boxes and books stacked in odd and inconvenient places that make dusting a nightmare and vacuuming borderline impossible, and that’s not even getting into the nightmare that is my closet which has simply become a dumping ground for the clothes I don’t want to bother with. 

 

I turn my attention back to my computer, trying vainly to ignore the mess that my desk is all its own, and open up my web browser.

 

“Hmmm… what to do?” The eternal question as always, although I figure I might as well start with something from the mess of open tabs on my right-side monitor. I remember I was in the process of reading some reviews of movies I’d recently seen so I figure that’s as good a place to start as any, right as I reach for my cup and take my first sip of tea… or rather, my first sip that then quickly morphs into my first full mouthful.

 

The taste, as I well expected it to be at this point, is exquisite, unlike any tea I’ve ever had before in my life. That same minty overtone is present at the front but now it’s even sharper, giving it an almost wintry vibe that for some reason makes me think of the high mountains. Following quickly on its heels is that same bergamot-esque earthiness that gives it a pungent and floral quality which quickly overwhelms the mint flavor, and is then capped off by a savory, umami note that tastes almost meaty for a brief second. 

 

I consider for half a moment how odd a combination of flavors it is, only to realize that it actually works incredibly well as all the flavors are extremely rounded and play with each other in concert, like a full symphony. 

 

I barely have time to register just how delicious it is because on top of the incredible taste, it also perks me up without any of the forced and artificial jitteriness that comes from coffee or even green tea, which causes me to cock an eyebrow in confusion. I feel like I could run a 5k, and that’s just from one mouthful? 

 

I eye the mug with a touch of suspicion, wondering if it hasn’t been dosed with some kind of experimental energy supplement, or maybe even an amphetamine of some kind, before the smell draws me back in again and I knock back another sizable gulp of the stuff. It pours down my throat and feels like it completely bypasses my stomach in order to simply spread further throughout all the crevices and extremities of my body. It feels as though it’s been imbued with a brilliant yellow light that warms and brightens everything it touches, which currently happens to be all of me. 

 

Before I know it I’ve finished both the last of my cup and the final review I had a tab open for. I’m a bit stunned at how quickly I read them all, considering there were 5 reviews in total all of which had no fewer than 6 full paragraphs, but I don’t dwell on it too much as I hurry back to the kitchen to refill my mug.

 

Returning back to my room, downing a full third of the cup before I even cross the threshold, I stop for a moment as I take stock of just how chaotic the mess inside truly is. I wrinkle my nose at the clutter and disorder, before I take another quick sip and decide that I should, at the very least, put away my clean clothes and start using my laundry basket for its intended purpose. 

 

With blinding speed I gather up everything and start organizing it, not even stopping to consider that I’m also folding everything as I do. Before I realize it, I’ve completely sorted, shelved, hung, or otherwise dealt with every article of clothing my room contains, clean or dirty. I even grabbed several garbage bags from the kitchen to bag up anything I decided I had no use for and could donate to the local thrift store. The feeling is immensely satisfying and I plant my hands on my hips, taking stock of the job I’ve just completed. 

 

Said feeling only lasts so long, unfortunately, as it only draws into sharper focus the rest of the chaos and how much further there is left to go. I give the thought less than half a second of deliberation as I fix a determined scowl on my face before downing the last of my mug, rolling up my sleeves, and getting to work…

 

• -

 

“Goddamn… I should’ve done this a long time ago.” This is the first thought that enters my previously one track mind after the dust settles, and not in a merely figurative sense either. I look around what used to be the disaster area of my private living space, only to see instead a clean, organized, and thoroughly combed-over room that looks ready for a Zillow photoshoot. It genuinely doesn’t look like my room anymore, and yet it still is unmistakably mine at the same time. 

 

All of my personal items are either neatly stowed away or displayed in a manner befitting their utility or decorative qualities, any dirty dishes, glasses, or silverware have all been moved into my dishwasher, my desk has been completely cleaned off and scoured, a vacuum run across every inch of the floor, including underneath the bed, every surface thoroughly dusted, and the bed itself made up neatly with the comforter laid out overtop and tucked underneath with my stuffies lounging proudly in the center. I even decided on what stuff I was never going to need again and packed all of it into the boxes that littered my floors, bringing them downstairs to join the bags of clothing headed to the thrift store. 

 

I take another long look at the job well done before grabbing my mug and draining the last of my fourth cup of tea. I still can’t believe how energized I feel each time I drink it, and without any kind of weird shakiness associated with caffeine or something similar. The only thing that stopped me from having any more was that I brewed my last two cups with a fresh batch of the stuff, and I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to find it again with no identifying markers so I figured I should try and make it last as long as possible. 

 

I set the cup on my nightstand, reminding myself to remove it later, before sitting on my bed and appreciating how nice it is to have it freshly made up. I run my hand across the synthetic but gentle fibers of my comforter, admiring just how soft they really are and how nice they feel on my skin. 

 

I lean over to let that same feeling encompass more of my arm before sighing gently and wishing I could let it encompass all of me… and then realizing I absolutely can.

 

Without a second thought I pull off my blouse and slide my jeans down my legs, ripping off my socks as I pull them over my feet. I opt to leave my panties on, as usual, but reach around to unclasp my bra and let my tits hang loose for the first time today, sighing a bit more salaciously than intended as they’re freed from their bonds. I don’t even have a moment to obsess over their oblong shape before I realize that my right hand has made its way up to them and is caressing and massaging each of them in turn, alternating between gently and roughly groping them every so often. 

 

I moan softly as I feel how sensitive they are, much more so than they’ve been in a long time. The thought gives me a momentary pause at the possibility that they might be growing again, hopefully this time to fill out more. This thought doesn’t linger long as the warm and pleasing sensations radiate through my breasts and down into the rest of my body, and I’m lost in the pleasure I’m able to generate by stimulating them. 

 

As I lay back onto my bed, propping my head up on my pillows, as I let the warm and yielding softness of my comforter reach out to envelop all of me that it can. I moan gently as I continue to caress my breasts and feel the wonderful soft sensations all up and down my back, squirming to let it rub against me as I do. 

 

One of my hands moves from my chest down to my belly, and then to the space between my legs. While I tend to avoid directly touching that area with my hands unless absolutely necessary, I somehow find myself drawn to it at the moment. 

 

I rub my crotch, gently at first, and then firmly while I feel my various bits and pieces jumble around under my panties in a way that is far more stimulating than it’s ever been, with the warmth I felt from my breasts flowing down my body to collect and intensify in that area. I don’t last too much longer before I turn myself over and start rubbing my face, chest, and crotch into the softness of the comforter to let them experience the sensations my backside had been enjoying, and it isn’t long at all before I start gently thrusting my hips into the bed as my moans increase in intensity.

 

After about five solid minutes of rubbing and grinding myself into my comforter with reckless abandon I finally surface for air, gasping inbetween my shuddered moans. “F-fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever been this horny,” I exclaim incredulously. “Where the hell did this come from?” 

 

I don’t have long to dwell on the matter before my gaze falls upon my Hitachi, charging in the corner where I plugged it in less than an hour ago and now blinking green to let me know it’s finished in its task. My mind immediately lights up at the implication of that green light and I reach out to grab it, bringing it up to my chest and nestling it between my tits once I do.

 

“Mmmm hello there darling, I missed you,” I coo as seductively as I can, laying on my back again. I rub it gently between my breasts as I moan softly, before gently running it up and down my body without even turning it on. The firm, yet soft rubber of the head is slightly cool and provides a wonderful contrast to the intense heat my body is generating. I grip the hard plastic of the handle, closing my eyes and pretending that I’m holding something else in my hand, as I continue to rub my breasts and let my moans increase in tandem with my pleasure. 

 

Once the head of the wand finds its way just above where my mons would be if I had one, I hit the switch and feel the low vibrations rattle through my entire body, my moan turning into a sharp gasp in the process. 

 

“Ohhhh f-f-fuuuuuuuuck!!” I cry out as even the lowest setting sends a wave of intense pleasure I’ve never felt before rocking through me. I open my eyes briefly to look down and see if I somehow got myself off that quickly, noticing a growing wet spot on my panties but nothing that would indicate I actually came. 

 

My inspection doesn’t last too long because that same pleasure returns in even greater intensity and I yelp out another choked cry, my eyes slamming shut as my entire body strains against a sensation I’ve never encountered before. My free hand continues to rub and stimulate my breasts, which feel like they’re exploding with sensation to the point they almost seem too big for my hands, and every grope and pinch of my nipples pushes the sensation to new and dizzying heights. 

 

I rub the vibrating head of the wand all around my sensitive areas and maneuver it directly over my crotch and press down hard, my moans and yelps reaching newer and greater peaks with each passing second. The pleasurable feeling doesn’t slow, moderate, or plateau in any way, it only continues to rise and intensify, and I can’t get enough of it.

 

As I grind the head of the vibrator deep into my crotch my mind starts to wander further, and I imagine someone else in the room with me, straddling me as I’m strapped down to the bed and unable to move as they deftly maneuver the wand to keep me at a proper level of stimulation without pushing me over the edge. The thought alone is too much to bear, and that’s before I start imagining their voice in my head. 

 

“Do you like that? Do you like it when I treat you like my slutty little toy that I can do whatever I want with?”

 

I unleash my most depraved and animalistic moans yet, as the mere thought of someone saying something like that to me while using my body for their own desire is too much for my touch-starved body to handle. My hand that was formerly groping my breasts has found its way down to the comforter and is gripping it for dear life, as my eyes roll back into my head and the waves of pleasure continue to intensify without faltering.

 

“Y-yesss…” I cry out without even thinking, “Yes please, I love being a toy for you. I love being something you can use and play with whenever you want. I want to be your slutty little fucktoy…”

 

Hearing myself say these words only serves to push myself to the absolute limit, the closest I can possibly get without going over the edge, and yet despite the seeming inevitability of the situation the sensations still somehow keep building without stopping. My hand grips the comforter even harder as I pretend my mystery partner is continuing to shove the vibrating wand harder into my most sensitive area.

 

“I want you to show me how bad you want it, sweetheart. I want my slutty little pet to show me how bad she wants to feel so good. I won’t give you that satisfaction until you beg for it. Until you prove to me you’re worthy of it.”

 

The words stick in my throat for only a fraction of a second before exploding out of me.

 

“Please let me cum for you! Please let me feel like the slutty little pet I am for you! Please let me prove how devoted I am to youuu!”

 

I imagine them reaching out a hand to stroke my face, which my free hand does in lieu of theirs actually being present.

 

“Are you going to be my slutty little girl?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“My pretty fucktoy that I can play with whenever I want?”

 

“YES!!”

 

“My little pet that I can put a collar and leash on and parade around for anyone who wants to see her? A free-use slut available for all who want a taste of what she has to offer?”

 

“YES, YES, OH FUCK PLEASE YES!!!”

 

I imagine their hand making its way to my nipple while the wand is thrust as far into my crotch as it’s ever gone before, and right before the sensation hits its peak…

 

“Then cum for me, kitten…”

 

And with a quick but deliberate pinch on my nipple and a flick of the switch on the wand to push it to an even higher setting, my orgasm rips through my entire body like a bolt of lightning. I feel the crashing sensations rush and pulsate throughout me as my voice catches in my throat for several seconds before unleashing in a primal scream that could pierce the heavens. 

 

I continue to ride out the waves, each of them more powerful and pleasurable than the last, until the sensation threatens to become too overwhelming and I instinctively hit the off switch on the wand and toss it to the side. As my body shudders and quakes from the various aftershocks that course through me, my mind finally starts to clear and I gradually return back to the comforting softness of my bed, which feels extra delightful with all the warm and radiant energy still currently flowing through me. 

 

One of my hands grabs the pendant which I’d neglected to take off with everything else, while the other sneaks its way down to my crotch to check just how much I came.

 

“Mmmmmmmmm, fuck…” I moan contentedly, “That was incredible. It’s never felt that good before, and how fucking validating to finally feel like I came as a woman for once.”

 

I take a deep long look into the pendant to admire its color yet again, before it catches the light in a strange way and flashes directly into my eyes. I wince as it does, but grin in spite of it and chuckle softly. “Mmmm, did you make that happen? Because if so, bravo dear. I’ll have to thank Breeze next time I see them.”

 

I smile at the thought as I let go of it, and close my eyes again in contented bliss. My now free hand grabs my tit again, while the other finally finds its way between my legs to the soft warmth greeting me, along with a sticky wetness soaking through my panties that feels…

 

“Wait…” I say as a knot suddenly forms in my stomach and my eyes snap back open. “What the fuck?”

 

I quickly turn my gaze downward to look at my crotch, before I realize that I can’t do that from my current vantage point like I normally can for some reason. I push that fleeting thought to the side to focus on the more pressing issue, as I sit up hurriedly and bend over to look down at my crotch, which is the flattest I’ve ever seen it in my life.

 

My brain short circuits.

 

“What the FUCK??” I cry out in greater disbelief as I rip my panties off of me to take an even better look at what they should be covering, which simply isn’t there anymore.

 

My heart drops into my stomach.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK???!!!” I scream as loudly as I have all night, my eyes refusing to budge from where they’re currently staring, my mind rejecting all evidence that they’re currently providing it with. The only thing that brings me out of my adrenaline-fueled terror at the sheer impossibility of what’s happening is the weight on my chest that has finally reached a level of discomfort I can no longer ignore. 

 

My eyes are torn from the sight between my legs and drift down to my breasts, which are protruding outward in a way they never have before; not just in their size, but shape as well. They are filled out and rounded in a way that looks natural, almost like they were always intended to be there. They come together in the middle, forming a narrow and distinct line through them that is unmistakably cleavage and they are simply staggeringly bigger to boot, a full two cup sizes at least. 

 

I’d assume my mind was just playing tricks on me if I hadn’t already had the other revelation to contend with, on top of the fact that the pendant, which before had hung freely between my breasts without impediment, was now gently resting on top of them instead. 

 

My mind reels at each new piece of information and I have to slap myself in the face to keep from hyperventilating. 

 

“You’re dreaming, you’re just dreaming right now. That’s all this is.”

 

I’m about to give myself a quick pinch before I’m reminded how real that slap felt. I look over at the digital readout of the clock on my nightstand, which very clearly and undeniably reads 9:53PM. 

 

I shake my head, as if trying to dislodge myself from the dream world. 

 

“It’s just a very intense and real-seeming dream. You’re probably lucid dreaming right now is all, but you just don’t realize it yet. Just keep reminding yourself of that and you’ll wake up in no time at…”

 

My hand shoots to my mouth as it finally settles in for me how much my voice has changed too. What used to be a rumbling and deep baritone has morphed into a sultry and airy alto, one that is unmistakably feminine in every aspect. I barely have time to focus on this latest change before my hand at my mouth brings another one into focus.

 

“Wait, is my jaw…”

 

I instinctively bolt upwards and jump to my feet, running in the direction of the downstairs mirror which is a bit more of a challenge than it normally would be, what with the added weight on my chest now. I unsteadily walk downstairs, having to slow my pace due to the new jiggle factor proving rather painful on top of cumbersome, before I finally find myself back in front of the mirror in the living room as I stare at…

 

“It’s… me?” I say with utter incredulity, unable to comprehend that the mirror I’ve stared into so many times before is returning a reflection so different from anything I’ve ever seen, yet so unmistakably me in the process. Completely naked, save a labradorite pendant, and greatly changed, but still me. 

 

I raise my arm and touch my jawline, just to confirm I am actually who the mirror says I am, and in the process I notice just how much it’s changed. Gone is the square and jutting chin I used to have, and in its place is a gently rounded but still angled jawline that doesn’t feel like it’s out of place anymore. In general, my facial features have softened significantly and are decidedly more feminine, but haven’t changed too much that they don’t resemble what they used to either. 

 

My nose in particular has undergone the least change, and still has its highly angular Roman distinctiveness to it, but it almost looks like it’s reset itself too and isn’t slightly off-kilter as it’s been ever since the break. Point of fact, it’s now perfectly set the way it used to be and compliments all the softer features of my face like I could never have imagined. Additionally, all traces of stubble have vanished from my chin and upper lip, and my face looks like it never once considered growing hair at any point in its 36 years.

 

Tearing my gaze away from my face I notice next that my hair, which I have been growing out damn near religiously for the past 4 years and was quite long already, has grown even longer and fuller and now stretches about a foot down past my breasts, which are indeed much bigger and rounder than they were before. 

 

The sight of my breasts in particular causes a small lump in my throat to rise as I stare in awe at them, the way I’d always pictured them. A smile starts to creep onto my lips before I remember what’s happening and I quickly shake it off and turn my attention to the rest of me, in particular my legs and hips. 

 

My hips, which had never been anything to really write home about, have filled out considerably and have granted my figure a curviness I didn’t know was possible. I turn to observe my profile and am greeted with a new view of my ass, which has not only filled out but firmed up as well. I stare at it for far too long before my eyes drift down to my legs, which I always considered one of my best features to begin with and are now even more shapely and defined with absolutely zero hair to be found anywhere. 

 

I can’t help but admire them, even in spite of everything. 

 

My focus looms upward towards my gut, which to my dismay hasn’t seemed to have changed much, if at all. It’s still pudgy and prominent, and while it might have receded a touch is still covered in all of the stretch marks and divots that it’s had for so long. 

 

I barely have time to actually focus on my stomach before I remember there’s still one area I haven’t checked. One which I just now realize I’ve been unconsciously covering up with my hand.

 

I gulp as I steel myself and remove my hand from between my legs.

 

If the wind wasn’t already knocked out of me before, this last revelation fully snatches it from my lungs. I stare in absolute astonishment at the flatness and lack of what used to be there, and am left instead to focus on what now remains. 

 

Two lips, which are folded over a small slit that runs vertically, and just barely peeking out at the top is a tiny nub of flesh. It’s unquestionably not anything else except exactly what it looks like, and as that fact dawns on me yet again I feel the adrenaline surge in my stomach as my mouth finally forms the words.

 

“I… I have… a vagina?”

 

I look myself up and down once more and then back again to my mons, unable to comprehend what the hell is happening and hoping beyond hope that at the very least I don’t wake up from this dream right away. Again, in spite of everything, the lump rises in my throat and I start to well up. 

I’m staring at the body I’ve wanted for so long, give or take couple things, and it was just handed to me seemingly out of nowhere at all.

 

“But… how? And why? And… and…” I bring my hands up to my head as all of my thoughts swirl around inside of it, the unavoidable reality that I’m not actually dreaming becoming more and more prominent, before I start to feel a tugging pressure on the sides of my head.

 

Or, more specifically, my ears.

 

“Ohhh fuck, is there more??” I ask with a touch of annoyance, despite everything that’s happened. My answer is quickly provided as my hands drift to my ears and I feel the tugging sensation pulling them up and out, but I also feel a change distinct from them simply getting bigger. A more tactical sensation that feels…

 

“Wait, is that fur?!” I exclaim as I pull my hair to the side to get a better look. It is indeed, and I spot it sprouting up all across my ear as it gets pulled and stretched to more of a point, but also one that is relatively flat too. I check the other side of my head and see the change apparent there too and when I look back straight into the mirror they’ve finally stretched out enough that they poke out the sides of my head through my hair. 

 

Despite the shock of what I’m seeing my brain retains enough rational thought to attempt to puzzle out what exactly they even are, but to no avail as even though they look like cat ears they’re too flat and not near enough the top of my head to be them. But maybe?

 

I don’t have time to focus anymore on my ears as the next change all of a sudden becomes apparent and my nose starts to shrink and recede into my face, leaving behind a brownish wrinkly nub with two small nostril holes on either side, as long wispy hairs slowly start to spill out of the area just below it and extend out, further and further. 

 

I stand with my jaw agape, watching these unmistakably feline features continue to form on me, which gives me the best and closest look yet at the next thing to change. My canines extend down further and further, pointing sharply at the end, until they are the textbook definition of fangs. I close my mouth much quicker than I intend to, and accidentally puncture my lip with one of them in the process.

 

“Ow, fuck!” I say with a bit of a start back and instinctively bring my hand up to my mouth, which proceeds to rub against my new whiskers and tickle them. I flinch as I do, my hand shooting back down to my side, and I look around desperately for any kind of help, only to be distracted once again by the next and final change, which has already started and I didn’t even realize until I caught a look at my profile again.

 

Extending out the base of my spine, just above my rear end, is a fuzzy protrusion that continues to grow longer and longer, in addition to growing fluffier with every inch. I stare in equal measures of bafflement, fear, and fascination as it continues to relentlessly pour out of me and grow rounder and fuller. Only when it is resting comfortably on the floor does it stop, and once it does I’m finally able to take a good look at the patterns on it. It has brownish gray fur mottled with spots and three prominent dark rings near the end, and it’s only once I notice the color that I realize it’s indeed the same color of the ears I currently wear on top of my head. I reach out to touch it, only for it to almost instinctively flop in the other direction.

 

I snatch my hand back and snap back to attention in the mirror, finally observing the changes in full. I stand with my mouth agog, looking at every single difference feline or otherwise, and shaking my head slightly as I do.

 

“Okay… I changed my mind, I’d like to wake up now…” I say while looking upward expectantly. Absolutely nothing happens, and my heart starts pounding inside my chest like it never has before. I take a look at the digital clock on my stove, hoping beyond hope to see the distorted display indicative of it being a dream world, only to see the time plain and clear as day reading 10:08 PM. 

 

I’m on the verge of tears and another bout of hyperventilating when I hear a jarring yet familiar noise emanating from nearby.

 

I look around until I finally spot my phone, seated on the coffee table and ringing the same familiar tune it always does when someone calls. I run over to grab it and I see Breeze’s face on the contact icon, winking at me with their tongue sticking out. 

 

My finger hovers over the “Accept Call” button.

END OF CHAPTER 1