[Fiction] Rex's Transition (Patreon)

(I posted this story on tumblr, but I thought it would be Good Content for the patreon as well, so here is my cope fiction about HRT that turns you into a dog)

Part 1: Rex begins transition.

I got my first shot today. I had to get blood drawn a few times to mitigate any health risks from treatment, needles hardly phase me but it still hurt more than I expected. Felt gross too, the dose propagating like a cold syrup entering my bloodstream, but this feeling passed pretty quickly. I don't really know what I was expecting from medical transition on the first day, I'd been working towards this for the better part of 18 months, I guess I thought it'd feel like crossing over the top of a mountain, but now I'm only struck with how much longer I have to go. My heart is racing, there's no turning back

My friends have been supportive, well, most of them. Gabe already had me on thin ice, I've always been a vocal ally to the trans community, which he protested, but I guess he kept me around because I hadn't "bought in" myself. Now I've bought into something so much newer and scarier, which was just too much I suppose. I'm annoyed with him, but I can't help but empathize. I'd been his friend for years at this point, and I guess he hates the idea that he didn't really know me, that I'd rather be something he can't even relate to on a human level. At least I still have my girlfriend, Carmen, she greeted me at the door when I got home, embracing me, placing both hands on my cheeks and scritching at my beard. "Hiii! Rex! Who's a good boy?" She teased, like she always does in her attempts to be supportive. I always rolled my eyes at her, but this time it felt different, something in my chest reacted to her chiding with… excitement? I tried to focus on it, but it disappeared quickly. Interesting.

===

It hasn't even been half a week, and I'm bouncing off the walls. This doesn't feel right, the doctors insisted I wouldn't notice anything for weeks. I messaged my sole trans friend about this, her name is Sylvia, and she told me the first change during transition she noticed was purely in her mind, the feeling of just… being at home with the impulses her new hormones were giving her. I responded, wondering if there was a similar process with my new dog instincts. I want to run, I want to bark but I'm too embarrassed to do it out loud. I carry myself differently, and I think people are noticing. One lady who passed me on the street almost seemed to reflexively begin the "rest hands on knees, coo affectionately" gesture when she saw me, before quickly correcting herself and looking confused. Sylvia wrote "Good boy!" back to me, it doesn't hit the same over text.

===

Carmen noticed me panting yesterday, it was embarrassing.

===

I work from home, so I've had a lot of time to myself, time to overthink and fixate on what is happening to my body. I remember when I was young, I thought I was growing a dog nose because the cartilage on the tip had hardened as it normally does at a certain age. I feel like I'm ten years old again, idly pressing my fingertip to my skin, looking for signs of a transformation. Sylvia told me she fixated on her breasts in a similar way, when they first came in it was difficult to tell if she was imagining it or not. My jaw hurts, either I need to see a dentist or my skull is mutating. Exciting times we live in.

Carmen has always liked playing with my beard, but after finding out I'm technically also her dog, she began scratching and stroking at me every chance she got. I can't complain, especially not now, I always liked being pet but now it's like a balm for my soul. She thinks it's adorable, and I've come to enjoy being thought of as adorable. Last night we had a movie on, I leaned down and rested my head over her lap before I even knew what I was doing. She laughed, and started gently ruffling my hair. I woofed happily.

Part 2: Rex is changing.

My ears are bigger, I'm sure of it. I spent all morning examining them in the mirror, playing with them, rubbing them between my fingers. They're thinner, a little more flexible and stretchy, there's… trace amounts of hair growing on the tips. I couldn't remember feeling this excited about anything in my life. I was never great at moving my ears independently of my head, but the muscles responsible seemed to be developing regardless. I wasn't comfortable getting to work until I could reliably twitch both of them hands-free. I even managed some minute rotation.

Apparently, my body hair had gotten softer too, less rough and scratchy. I couldn't perceive it myself, Carmen is the one who always loved getting up close and personal with that part of me, and she's the first one who noticed. She started referring to all of it as my fur, I hadn't thought about adopting that term so early, but it felt correct. That substance growing all over me with increasing uniformity, hair and beard coming to resemble each other, it's all the same stuff, really. My partner loves stroking all of it equally. My fur.

I rolled the words around in my head and slowly began to forget what I used to call it.

===

Carmen has started to buy me all sorts of dog-related gifts, toys, mostly. It was a little embarrassing at first, but… I was persuaded. I discovered joy in bumping brightly colored balls around with my palms, gnawing on coils of colored rope, my inhibitions gradually receeding, especially in her company. She offered to take me to the pet store so I could pick some myself, and I vehemently and desperately refused.

Sometimes I felt smothered by her support, her eagerness to participate in the novel experience, but… I guess I'd rather she supported me too much than not enough. Silvia always complained about her cis friends who constantly offered to take her out shopping for girly clothes, but on the same token would admit said friends were an indispensible resource. I would never have bought chew toys for myself, hah.

I still told her how I felt, and she said she wouldn't spring stuff on me anymore without asking first. However, I was sure to remind her to keep stroking my new patches of fur. She had gotten very good at finding the spots that I like.

===

Smell. Jesus Christ, everything smells. Everything is vibrant, it's overwhelming, it came on so quickly I had no choice but to curl up and cower in the laundry room. But after my brain adjusted, it was as if I had lived my life in a world without color until now. Carmen smells! I can smell her from blocks away, but I've found myself wanting, nay, needing to get my nose as close as possible to her. Her shoulder smells like wet hay, her midriff smells like rancid pineapple, she's perfect. She complained that my nose was cold on her skin but stroked me behind the head anyways. I love her.

I told her I felt as if I'd never seen her face clearly until today, she didn't really know what to say to that. I wouldn't either.

Part 3: Rex is curious.

I found that chewing violently on things mitigates the pain of bone jutting from the inside of my fucking face, if only a little. The toys didn't last that long anymore, my teeth were getting sharper and my jaw was getting stronger by the day. An image came into my mind of Carmen scolding me after I had just chewed up the upholstery, myself sulking with my tail between my legs. I knew better, but it would have been very funny. I often daydreamt about cartoonish scenarios like these, ones I might have seen in newspaper comics as a puppy that ended up staying with me for years afterwards.

I thought it would be bothersome to constantly see my muzzle in my field of vision, but instead I came to feel like it should have been there all along. That's what I sniff with, I should see it. I should know exactly which portion of my lover's skin I am introducing myself to. My whiskers were starting to come in too, my nose was more sensitive than ever, my vision wasn't all that important in comparison.

I could tell Carmen was almost home, I licked my chops and whined quietly.

===

I spent a lot of time looking around online for information on species transition, looking for communities to hang around in. Trans-centric communities weren't safe, I discovered to my dismay that there was a rampant animal-exclusionary movement propagating throughout transgender spaces and I never knew which chatrooms I'd be chased out of if I mentioned how well my new tail was coming in. I was often derisively labeled as a cis male trying to invade queer spaces. Sylvia was sympathetic, at least, she told me she went through something similar in the early 20s with radical feminism, or something. I wasn't quite topped up on transgender history.

I suppose I was cisgender before transition, but gender seemed like such a human affair to me now. If Carmen started calling me "Good girl!" I doubt I would mind. Sylvia was very intrigued by this, she asked me what pronouns she should use with me and I told her I hadn't the faintest idea. I'm a dog.

Even after I came across online spaces for animals, and then specifically dogs, folks who seemed so barely contained by their keyboards, the itch to bark through the screen evident in their indelicate tone, I was too shy to say anything. I slinked in the background, watching the others, learning about real life gatherings and looking upon them with… yearning? envy? disgust? There were still so many bare patches of skin showing on me, would I really belong there? Dog people seemed to just pop into existence with perfectly formed muzzles, sharp teeth and uniform fur. Who was I?

Sylvia told me to get over myself.

===

I think I still enjoyed the sex I had with Carmen, but it was starting to feel different. I wanted something else, I still loved her, I loved her body, but I didn't want specific parts of her anymore. I wanted closeness, scents, textures, when she was horny the fetid fruit smells of her lower half grew more earthlike and soilish, chamomile tea and silkworms, I only wanted to clamp my body to hers and feel, nondescriptly, indiscriminately, have her fill my nose and my mouth. I can't imagine how, but she seems to have been pleasantly surprised by this development. She said she likes my new tongue quite a lot.

I love her, but it's different. I don't know how to describe it, it's not a human form of love. I feel it when she pets me, I feel it when she calls me a good boy.

I feel it when she calls me Rex.

Part 4: Rex is happy.

I asked Carmen to get me a leash and collar yesterday. I supposed she was already thinking of it, but was afraid of embarrassing me. I didn't care anymore, she needed to collar me. That's the kind of love I felt for her now. I suspected it was the kind of love she felt for me too, she began looking at me differently after seeing the way I reacted to her strokes, seeing my new fascination with her scent. I wasn't just her partner anymore, I was her dog. We'd joked about it before, but it had become less and less of a joke over the months.

When she put it on me, something shifted. I realized the shame I felt wasn't the embarrassment of being treated like a pet, it was the opposite. It was the part of me that still clung to humanity. I had become a shut-in, long long nights ruminating over my new face, my new inexorable freak mutation, but… truly I was only ever afraid of being seen without a leash. My stature had gotten shorter, I could still walk but my new legs were urging me to get my paws on the floor. This time, I finally gave in.

Carmen asked me if I wanted to go for a walk, my heartrate doubled, but I told her I wasn't ready yet.

===

My ears gained full range of motion over the past month, and sensation in my tail finally solidified. It was becoming easier and easier to communicate with wags and ear flicks, which was good, because talking was getting to be a slight hassle. I would rather whine and moan when I want attention, bark when I'm excited, growl when I'm angry.

I could still understand english, I even got a keyboard with large buttons for keys after I lost the dexterity and definition I needed in order to type. (I'm told our clients tend to be very amused to find that a portion of their website was coded by a canine.) However, my new instincts gave me the ability to turn that part off, to only hear the loving praising tone in my owner's voice. It's nice, after a long day of interfacing with my old human responsibilities, to simply crawl up into Carmen's arms and listen to her nonsense puppy talk as she digs her fingers deep into my fur, languidly flopping on my back so she gives attention to my belly. She noticed that scratching me in a certain spot on my side made my leg twitch, she found this very funny.

===

Carmen took me on a walk for the first time today. There were still nudity laws for human-to-animal individuals, which was a shame, but other than the constrictive cloth covering my natural coat I felt freer than I could have ever imagined. I spun in circles, leaping onto my hindpaws and dancing with joy before falling back onto all fours. I met a few other dogs like me, it was easy to tell which ones used to be people because they were all still wearing clothes. Carmen had a lot of time to make small talk with the other park-goers while we curiously sniffed at each other. Some of them still spoke mostly in English, others just barked, I guess everyone has a different preference. I think I fell somewhere in the middle.

I met a few "real" dogs as well, for lack of a better word. I know I could never really think exactly like them, although I dearly wished to. Perhaps these notions of "thought" were perceiving them with unfair anthropomorphism. Nonetheless, they seemed to trust me.

===

I'm not human, there was never any doubt about it. I was never supposed to be human. I was supposed to be raised as a puppy, I was supposed to be brought into a family and cared for, I was supposed to run, to play, to bark, to bite. I often wonder what I would have been like had I been born a dog, but I don't really have to wonder. It was always there, my curiosity, my sensitivities, the need to be separate from humanity while still yearning to feel a connection, validation, love, from humanity. Now, strangers look at me like I'm something alien to them, but something deserving of compassion regardless. They touch me, they stroke my fur just because they suspect I would like it, they understand me. I am understood.

Truth be told, my name wasn't actually Rex. Carmen started calling me that just a couple months ago. I forgot my old name, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm Rex now, and I'm happy.