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I gazed into the cracked full-length mirror with a heavy heart, scanning the body I was trapped in. Standing in the middle of my room in only my boxers while staring in the mirror was something I did probably way too often. It was something I liked doing. Not because I liked my body or something of the sort; it was quite the opposite. I found it nice to be able to look at myself and think about the many things I would be able to change in the future.

Sighing at what was to come next, I picked up the familiar roll of duct tape and stuck the end of it to the skin below my armpit. As uncomfortable as it always was, I began rolling it around the upper half of my torso, the material sticking to my body and somewhat concealing these darned C-cups.

When I was finally pleased with the result I cut off the end and turned to get a side view. It was nowhere near flat, but it was better than before. The pain of it was always there, but I had gotten used to it. I knew that this whole tape technique was not exactly the safest, but I had no other choice. How was mom supposed to get me a binder when sometimes she could not even afford to put food on the table?

As cheesy and cocky as it seemed, I bundled up a pair of socks and stuffed them down into my boxers, marvelling at who I would become one day. It just felt more real this way.

I slipped into a loose shirt, some jeans and threw a hat on top of my hair, which was already tangled although I brushed it only a few minutes ago. Finally I exited my bedroom and made my way into the conjoined living room/kitchen. My face broke into a sad smile when I saw my mom.

She had fallen asleep on the old couch, a bunch if paperwork loosely hanging out of her hand. It was upsetting to see her like this. She was overworking herself in a shitty low paying job and still could barely cover the bills. It was completely unfair. The only thing keeping food on the table right now was my current job. I worked late hours at a nearby gas station.

It was not the ideal job, but it was fine temporarily. The only inconvenience was that my shift started at 8pm and ended at 3am. As we currently did not have a car and I was not in possession of a drivers license I had to walk home in the late hours of the night. It took no more than 15 minutes to get home from there, but those 15 minutes were the most dreaded part of my day. By 3am half of the streetlights were off (it was some weird power saving system put in place by the government). Not many people cared but to me, someone who was quite vulnerable, it was a huge deal. I was forced to brush it off though as it was the only suitable place in my radius for me to work.

I shook my mom's shoulder gently, prying her out of her dreamy state and seeing her look up at me and blink in awe. I slowly pulled her to her feet and walked her into the bedroom she owned sluggishly, as she was probably not even aware of what was going on in her current state. Carefully, I placed her down on the bed, which was very stiff and probably not much more comfortable than the couch, but at least the duvet kept her warm as she slept.

Flinching at the flexing of my body around the duct tape, I leaned down to pick up my school bag and headed for the door. I rarely ate breakfast and today was no different, so I simply locked the apartment door behind me, trudged down the mouldy stairs of the apartment complex and begrudgingly made my 30 minute walk to school.

With our limited funds, so far the only things I could achieve towards my transition were getting a few sessions with a therapist and, best of all, having my name and gender changed. To me, those were the most important things. Sure, going on hormones or getting top surgery would be pretty cool, but having my name and gender changed was a big deal to me. It meant that I was legally male and no one could tell me otherwise. With my name being Kellin instead of Ashley, people had to view me as a boy whether I had boobs or not. If my actual birth certificate read that I was male, no one could argue with that. So although physically I was still a girl, I was socially a boy.

Arriving to school was like being put in one of the Saw movies. In other words, no matter what you do, you always get hurt and your mistakes represent your whole life...just less bloody.

I pulled my hood up over my head - yes, I know, typical emo - and swiftly made my way to my locker, making sure not to touch anyone or make eye contact. It was way easier this way.

With some people it felt like simply being in their presence was an offence worthy of a death sentence. Once I got shoved face-first into my locker for giving someone a 'funny look'. I might have actually been giving them a funny look, but that's besides the point.

After I was done at my locker and managed to avoid any unwanted encounters, I made my way to my first period class. I was dreading going there and considered skipping it and hiding in the bathrooms, simply because of the fact that Mike Fuentes was going to be there.

My plan for today was to avoid him at all cost, but I was too much of a pussy to skip class. My good grades were the only thing I had going for me, so I had to keep them up if I wanted to get that, much needed, scholarship.

I walked into class right before the bell rang. Everyone else was already present, so I just dropped my head and sat down, completely ignoring everyone around me.

In the hallways, I could hide behind my hood. Here, everyone could see me. The only reason no one said a thing when I was walking to my locker was because my face was hidden. Now, there is no way I could conceal myself without the teacher yelling at me. Another thing which was virtually impossible was that, by some chance, Mike either did not remember or did not tell anyone about what happened at the start of the week-long half term holiday.

I knew that my suspicions were correct because, as soon as I sat down in my seat, I heard faint laughter coming from all around me. This was it: the downfall of my school career, even though it was already pretty low.

There were always rumours going around about me being trans, but no one really had any solid evidence as I was pretty good at hiding it. Now, though, Mike and Vic were surely telling everyone about how much of a freak I was.

I tuned out all of the murmurs from around me and focused on the lesson. About halfway through, I turned to my left as I felt something poke my shoulder. Some clueless looking guy handed me a piece of folded paper, before shrugging to show that he had no idea what it was.

I sighed heavily and opened up the note, already knowing who it would be from.

'That's a weird looking dick you've got there'

Honestly all I wanted to do was punch Mike in the face. I knew I would never be able to do it because if I punched him he would literally murder me. So, instead of physical violence, I opted for something more passive-aggressive and wrote my response to his message on the same piece of paper but lower.

'I think the biggest issue here is the fact that you were prepared to fuck someone who has a dick'

I sent it right back the way it came.



First proper chapter wooo! What do you guys think so far? I haven't planned this story very well lol but hopefully it won't be a total disaster.

Thanks for reading!

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