Disclaimer:

This is the first time that I've written a story from the point of view of a character who is either questioning their gender, is genderqueer, or is gender-fluid. In that light, I ask forgiveness and forbearance if this story should offend or if I've gotten anything wrong.

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Decision Time

© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  oli_snowpaw


“Hold still, Jack.”

“It tickles.”

I look up at Jack and brandish the cordless shaver at him. “And if I get this wrong, people will laugh at you. Now hold still, puppy,” and I went back to trimming the fur on his chest and stomach. See, Jack has a good physique, and he likes his fur cut short to show off his six-pack and his pecs. Between his workouts and my aerobics, we both keep in good shape.

My big dog flinched once or twice, but held still as I traced one line across his stomach, then brushed the clippings away. Just in time, too; we both have to be at work at seven.

“Hey, Carl,” Jack says over the sound of rushing water. He’s in the shower after me, and I’m getting dressed. Blue scrubs today, and I wrinkle my nose a bit. I prefer brown or black, because they go better with my fur.

“Yeah?”

“We’re almost out of fur soap.”

I set aside my brushes and take a look under the sink. “We got two more bottles. We don’t need to go out to the store.” I go back to brushing my hair out while Jack finishes his shower, then pull my top on and pull the hair out from under the collar. I look at the result in the mirror as the shower door opens.

Jack catches my eye as I’m looking at my reflection. He’s grinning at me. “Hey, beautiful.”

I grin back. “You look pretty good yourself. What do you want for breakfast?” He licks his chops and I say, “Besides me.”

He laughs and reaches for a towel. “Whatever you’re having, Carl.” He starts toweling off and with his head covered he asks, “You have an appointment today?”

I catch myself looking at my reflection.

Again.

“Carl?”

My tail gives a little shake and I look away. “Yeah, yeah, I have an appointment. Three o’clock.”

He’s still toweling off, so I head into the kitchen. Coffee’s ready, so I pour a cup for me and start fixing breakfast. It’s bagels and bacon today, with butter, jam or cream cheese for the bagels. Microwave bacon isn’t as good, but it’s a lot faster and I won’t get grease all over the place. While I’m setting things out I can hear the fur dryer.

The toaster pops out a nice hot bagel at the same time the microwave dings, so I spread cream cheese on the bagel and take a seat at the kitchen table while I drink my coffee and take a look at my phone.

No messages, appointment at three, my support group on Honker had a bunch of trolls show up during the night. The usual hateful shit, so it doesn’t hurt me as much as it did when I first started questioning myself.

Thinking about it reminds me of when I came out as gay, back in my senior year of high school. I lost some people I thought were my friends, and some of my relatives haven’t talked to me in over ten years. My Dad was confused by my decision, but Mom was supportive. I think they were both denial.

Still, I have new friends now, and Jack loves me.

But if I come out a second time . . .

I freshened up my coffee and started on a piece of bacon as Jack stepped out of the bedroom. Blue scrubs look as bad on him as they do on me.

The big canine pours a cup of coffee for himself, pops a bagel into the toaster, and leans over to give me a kiss. “Good morning, pretty kitty.” He grins as I purr at him and he blows on his coffee before taking a sip. “Burgers sound good for tonight?” he asks, and glances at his phone for a moment, then goes to his newsfeed.

“Mm-hmm,” I say, my mouth full of bagel. My tail swishes around, and he picks up on that. “Nervous about your appointment?”

“Uh-huh. I think I’m ready to make a decision.”

Jack’s ears perk. “Want to tell me?”

“What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s your decision, Carl, not mine.” He reaches across the table and lays his paw on mine. “Look, Carl, I love you. If you decide to transition to female, you’ll still have my love.” He leans across, and I feel myself start to tear up a bit as we kiss. We break the kiss at a sound.

Way to spoil the mood, toaster.

Jack catches my expression and we both chuckle as he goes to put butter and jam on the bagel. I deliberately left him most of the bacon, so he fills a plate and sits back down. He wolfs down a few strips of bacon, chases them down with coffee, and says, “And if you do decide to go all the way, Carl, I call dibs.”

“On what?”

He grins. “Deflowering you.”

“I’m not a virg – oh, very funny. You know how expensive that can be.”

“Yeah.” He’s still eyeing me up as he finishes eating his bagel, and then glances at his watch. “Almost time to go. Want a coffee to go?”

“Sure. I’m going to brush my teeth,” so I get up while Jack gets a travel mug.

Not ten minutes later we’re both out of the apartment and in Jack’s car. It’s a 2009 Charger, the best he could afford and he’s still making payments on it. He named it Shelly after his sister, because as he puts it, she’s a real bitch too. It starts on the third try, and we’re off to work.

I wave as we go our separate ways once we reach the hospital’s employee parking lot. I’m an LPN and a radiology tech, and Jack’s an RN up on the floors, so we don’t really see each other while we’re at work. Lunch is a hit-or-miss thing, and we usually work seven AM to seven at night.

Now you know why we tend to get a little crazy on weekends.

I don’t see Jack at lunchtime, but he texts me and wishes me luck with my appointment with Dr. Cavanaugh. He also sends me a picture, and I give a start and clap my paw over the screen before anyone can see it.

Later, my supervisor comes up to me as I clock out. “Carl?”

“Yeah, Dee?”

The doe’s long ears dip. “I don’t want to do this, but I have to remind you that you only have about two weeks’ paid time off left.”

I nod. I’ve been keeping track. “I think this might be my last appointment, Dee.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know, of course.”

I try to be honest with myself as I leave the hospital. The doctor’s office is just down the street, and it gives me time to think.

One of the biggest questions is still Am I comfortable in my body as it is? I’d been crossdressing for nearly a year, off and on, part of the process of determining the answer to that question. If the answer was Yes, nothing would really change; if No, it’d be a nearly irrevocable step. There’d be hormones first, then maybe minor surgery. The biggest and most expensive step, naturally, was a point of no return.

And I kind of like my cock.

Dr. Cavanaugh’s a rabbit, like my supervisor, and after a few minutes in his waiting room he invites me into his office. I take a seat on the sofa, and he pulls his chair around his desk and sits facing me, looking over my file. He scribbles a note and looks at me over the tops of his glasses. “So, Carl,” he says, “how are you feeling today?”

“Pretty good,” and I cross my legs and sit back. “I . . . “

“Yes?”

“I think I’m ready. To make a decision,” I add hastily.

He gives me a reassuring smile. “Okay.” He looks down at my file. “You’ve been dressing, as part of a real life experience, for nearly a year.” He glances up at me. “Not continuously?”

“No, although I’ll wear women’s underwear under my uniform while at work.”

“And you’re wearing them now?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you feel, when you’re dressed as a woman? As opposed to being dressed as a man?”

I can’t help but smile. “Panties are a lot more comfortable.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” I get up and get a paper cup of water from the nearby water cooler, down it, and drop the empty cup into the trash can. “I think – no, feel – I feel pretty much equally comfortable in either clothes.”

“Let’s go a bit deeper, then. How do you feel in your skin?” He waggles a paw. “Do you feel comfortable in your body as it is now?”

It takes a few long moments to think that over, but I finally nod.

After that, we talk for a while. Nearly two hours, in fact, and after that I walk back to the hospital and go back to work until my shift was over. I could have taken the rest of the day off, but I remember what Dee had told me about my time off.

Dee catches up with me eventually and we go to her office. “Have you decided?” she asks.

“I want Jack to hear it first, if it’s okay with you, Dee.”

The doe smiles and nods. She’s good people, and a good boss.

Jack comes out to the car and smiles when he sees me standing there waiting for him. We share a long kiss once we’re in the car, before he starts the engine.

He swings the car out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “How was your day?” he asks.

“Not bad. Yours?”

“Pretty good. No problems – ow!” He flinches and looks at me. “What was that for?” he asks. We reach a red light and he rubs his shoulder.

“That’s for sending me a dick pic. Someone might have seen it,” and I grin at him. “Nice pic, though.”

“Thanks.”

“Whose was it?” He splutters and we both start laughing.

“You’re being a bit frisky today, kitten,” Jack says as the light turns green and he taps the gas pedal. “How was the doc?”

“Good. I made a decision.”

“Yes?” He turns his head slightly and looks at me.

Those beautiful dark eyes of his . . . “Eyes on the road, Jack,” I say, and manage to keep my voice from breaking. “I’ll tell you when we’re home.”

“Sure.” He changes the subject, and we talk a bit more about work. He has some refresher training coming up on changes to the hospital’s privacy policy. I’m scheduled for the same thing a few days after he is.

I get the mail from the mailbox as Jack gets the car locked up, and we both go into the apartment. As soon as the door closes I drape my arms over his shoulders and look up at him. “I love you,” I say.

We kiss and Jack hugs me tightly, reassuringly, lovingly. “I love you,” he murmurs in my ear. He looks down at me. “So?”

“He doesn’t recommend it,” I say, and I look up into those eyes of his, “and he agrees with my decision.” I can feel my eyes start to tear up and I manage to say, “I’m happy as I am, Jack.”

Then the tears start, and for a while I just cry, while Jack holds me and strokes my hair.

We have Chinese take-out that night, because neither of us wants to cook anything, and we turn in early.


end