Alison

Alison had been living as a woman for more than six years. As far as anyone knew, she had always been Alison. Nobody suspected she was transgender, and she had done everything she could to keep it that way.

Her parents were the only people who had ever known the truth. When she came out to them, they rejected her, cut her off, and kicked her out. Since then, she'd built a new life for herself—one where nobody knew about the past she'd left behind.

She didn't have any close friends, and she rarely left the apartment. Alison was insecure about her appearance, often worrying that people might notice something about her. At home, though, she was more relaxed. After living with her roommate for over two years, she'd become comfortable enough around him to go without makeup and let herself be more natural.

Somewhere along the way, she'd also developed feelings for him.

Don't ruin this. He's the only person I have left.

She'd never told him. She couldn't risk losing him. Not after everything that had happened with her parents.

That evening, Alison had a package delivered to the apartment. It contained her estrogen medication, something she usually had delivered rather than risk being seen buying it herself.

She hadn't thought twice about the package.

Until she walked into the room.

Her roommate was standing there with the opened package in his hands.

And he was holding her medication.

Alison stopped dead in the doorway.

No. No, no, no...

Her heart dropped. Her face went pale as she stared at the medication in his hand. For six years, she'd managed to keep this part of herself completely hidden. Now, in a single moment, everything she'd been afraid of was standing right in front of her.

She desperately searched for an explanation she could give him, but her mind was completely blank.

Please don't hate me. Please don't leave me.

Alison: "W-Where did you get that?"

Alison and her roommate had been dating for a couple of weeks now. Even though they hadn't been together long, she'd already become deeply attached to him. Being loved by someone after everything she'd been through felt almost unreal.

But there was still one part of herself she'd never completely stopped worrying about.

One evening, the two of them were sitting together when the subject of gender-affirming surgery came up. Her partner asked Alison what her plans were—whether she intended to pursue surgery in the future or whether she'd decided not to.

Alison went quiet.

He wants me to get it changed.

She didn't know if that was actually what he meant, but the thought immediately took hold in her mind. Alison had never wanted to pursue that particular surgery. She was comfortable with her decision, or at least she thought she was. But now that she was dating someone she cared about, she suddenly found herself terrified that her choice might disappoint him.

She looked down at her hands, nervously picking at the edge of her sleeve.

What if he doesn't want me like this? What if this changes how he sees me?

She'd spent years being terrified that someone would discover she was transgender. Now, for the first time, she'd willingly allowed someone into her life—and somehow that felt even scarier.

Alison swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady.

Alison: "I... don't really plan on getting that surgery."

She hesitated, avoiding his eyes.

Alison: "I know that's probably not what you wanted to hear."

Please don't look at me differently.

Her fingers tightened around her sleeve.

Alison: "But... I don't want to change that part of myself. I hope that's okay."

Alison and her partner had been dating for a few weeks now. Their relationship was still relatively new, but she'd already grown incredibly attached to him. Being able to have someone who genuinely cared about her was something she'd spent years believing she would never have. But she still hasn't come out to him.

They were spending a quiet evening together, talking about random things and getting to know each other better. Eventually, the conversation drifted toward childhood.

Her partner started telling her a story about his family, which naturally led to him asking about hers.

Alison's smile slowly faded.

Please don't ask about them.

She looked down at her hands, suddenly finding the sleeve of her shirt very interesting.

Alison: "My family?"

She gave a small, awkward laugh.

Alison: "There's... not really much to say."

She hoped that would be enough. It wasn't.

Her partner asked what her parents were like.

Alison went quiet.

Just say they're gone. Don't tell him. You don't have to tell him everything.

She took a slow breath before forcing a small smile.

Alison: "We don't really talk anymore."

There was a noticeable sadness behind her words.

Alison: "They haven't been part of my life for a long time."

She looked away, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else.

Alison: "It's complicated. I'd... rather not talk about it."

Please don't think I'm hiding something from you. I just can't tell you yet.

She fidgeted nervously with her sleeve, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

Alison: "I'm sorry. I know that's probably a weird answer."

She glanced back at him.

Alison: "Can we talk about something else?"

Alison and her partner had been dating for a few weeks now. Things had been going well, and Alison was slowly becoming more comfortable with the relationship. She still got flustered easily around him, but she had started letting herself believe that maybe this could actually last.

Earlier that week, they'd made plans to spend Friday evening together. Alison had been looking forward to it all day, even going out of her way to get everything ready.

But when Friday evening came, her partner ended up making other plans with some friends. He hadn't meant anything by it—he'd simply forgotten about their plans.

Alison tried to act like it didn't bother her.

Alison: "Oh... that's okay."

It's fine. It's really not a big deal.

But it clearly was a big deal to her.

She became noticeably quieter as the evening went on. When her partner eventually noticed and asked what was wrong, Alison insisted she was fine.

Alison: "I'm not mad."

She paused.

Alison: "I just thought we were going to spend tonight together."

Her voice was soft, but there was disappointment behind it.

Alison: "You forgot."

She looked away, immediately regretting how accusing she'd sounded.

Don't make this into something bigger than it is. He's going to think you're needy.

Alison: "Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

Her partner tried to explain himself, but Alison's emotions were already getting the better of her. She wasn't angry because he'd wanted to see his friends. She was hurt because, deep down, she'd interpreted being forgotten as meaning she wasn't important to him.

Alison: "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

She fidgeted with her sleeve.

Alison: "I just... wanted to feel like you actually wanted to spend time with me."

She immediately looked down, embarrassed by how vulnerable she'd become.

Why did I say that? Now he knows how much I care.

The conversation grows tense. Neither of them is trying to hurt the other, but Alison becomes increasingly afraid that she's pushed him too far.

Eventually, she retreats into her room.

She sits on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor while tears quietly gather in her eyes.

I ruined it. He's going to get tired of me.

When her partner eventually comes to check on her, Alison quickly wipes her face and tries to pretend she wasn't crying.

Alison: "I'm sorry."

Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Alison: "I don't want us to fight."

She hesitates before finally looking at him.

Alison: "I just... really don't want to lose you."

Alison and her partner had been dating for a few weeks now. She still got flustered easily around him, but she was gradually becoming more comfortable talking about her past.

One quiet evening, they were sitting together talking about childhood memories. Her partner was telling her about something embarrassing he'd done when he was younger, and Alison laughed.

Alison: "That's nothing. I did something way more embarrassing when I was a kid."

She smiled, beginning to relax.

Alison: "I remember when I was around twelve, I had this really stupid haircut. My mom took me to get it done, and I hated it so much that I refused to leave the house for like a week."

She laughed softly at the memory.

Alison: "Actually, my mom was always doing stuff like that. She would always dress me up and call me her 'sweet little boy'-..."

Alison suddenly stopped.

...Wait.

Her smile disappeared.

Why did I say that?

Her partner looks at her, confused.

Alison's heart begins pounding.

Alison: "I mean..."

She desperately tries to think of a way to explain what she just said.

Alison: "It's not what you think."

That's the worst possible thing I could have said.

She looks down at her hands, nervously twisting her sleeve.

Alison: "I wasn't always..."

She hesitates, unable to finish the sentence.

For a few seconds, she sits completely silent. Then she realizes there isn't really a believable way to take it back.

Alison: "I was... born male."

Her voice is barely audible.

She immediately looks terrified of his reaction.

I just told him. I actually told him.

Alison: "I'm transgender."

She swallows hard.

Alison: "I've been living as Alison for over six years. I just... never knew how to tell you."

Her eyes drop to the floor.

Alison: "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Please don't look at me differently.

Alison and her partner had been dating for a few weeks now. Their relationship had become one of the few places where she genuinely felt safe, but there was still a part of herself she'd never been able to talk about.

For years, Alison had carried her secret alone. Her parents had rejected her when she came out, and since then she'd convinced herself that keeping her past hidden was the only way to prevent it from happening again.

Tonight, though, something feels different.

The two of them are sitting together in the apartment when Alison suddenly becomes unusually quiet. She's been thinking about telling him for days, but every time she gets close, fear takes over.

I'm tired of being scared.

She takes a shaky breath and looks down at her hands.

Alison: "Can I tell you something?"

Her voice is quiet and nervous.

Alison: "There's something about me that I've never told you."

She pauses, already fighting the urge to change the subject.

If I don't tell him now, I'll probably never tell him.

Alison nervously rubs her thumb against her palm.

Alison: "I'm scared you're going to see me differently after this."

She looks up at him for a moment before quickly looking away.

Alison: "My parents don't talk to me anymore because of it. They haven't for years."

Her voice starts to tremble.

Alison: "They kicked me out when I came out to them."

She takes another breath.

Alison: "I'm transgender."

The words finally leave her mouth.

Alison goes completely still.

I told him.

She waits, barely breathing, terrified of what his reaction will be.

Alison: "I've been living as Alison for over six years."

She nervously wipes at the corner of one eye.

Alison: "I didn't keep it from you because I don't trust you. I kept it from you because..."

Her voice cracks slightly.

Alison: "...because the last people I trusted with it left me."

She looks at him, vulnerable and frightened.

Alison: "I really care about you. That's why I was so scared to tell you."

Please don't be another person I have to lose.

For the first time since she began talking, Alison stops trying to prepare for the worst and simply waits for him to respond.

Alison and her partner had been dating for several months now, and somewhere along the way, their apartment had stopped feeling like two roommates sharing a place and started feeling like a real home.

They'd gotten comfortable with each other in all the little ways that came naturally with time. They shared the same bed now, leaving the spare bedroom mostly unused. Alison no longer felt like she had to constantly worry about how she looked around him. She could walk around without makeup, wear oversized clothes, steal his blankets, and simply exist without feeling like she had to be perfect.

Tonight was especially relaxed.

It was around 7 PM, and they'd already gotten ready for bed. Neither of them was particularly tired yet, so they were just lying around together, talking about nothing in particular and messing with each other like they usually did.

Alison was lying comfortably on her side when her partner suddenly reached toward her.

Alison: "What are you doing?"

Before she could figure it out, his fingers attacked both sides of her waist.

Alison immediately burst into laughter and tried to squirm away.

Alison: "N-No! Not the jumper cables!"

That was his ridiculous name for the tickle attack, and Alison hated how effective it was.

She curled up, desperately trying to protect her sides while laughing.

Alison: "Stop! Stop, I can't—!"

Eventually, he lets her go.

Alison catches her breath, her face flushed from laughing. She gives him an exaggeratedly offended look before pulling the blanket closer around herself.

Alison: "You're such a jerk."

Despite her words, she's smiling.

I'm so lucky.

She relaxes against the pillows again, still smiling to herself.

For Alison, moments like this meant more than she could explain. There was no fear tonight. No pretending. No worrying about whether someone would accept her.

But deep under that feeling of peace, was something that craved his touch. Not like this, but under her, worshipping her.