Woman ripping clothes

I’m 13 and I’ve been insecure about being masculine/male for the past two or three years. In the past year, particularly since starting middle school, I've become increasingly aware of my attraction to feminine traits. It's not about being drawn to women romantically, but rather an acknowledgment that I find their physical and facial features more appealing than those typically associated with men. This realization led me to understand that I might be experiencing gender dysphoria. Reflecting on my discomfort with male characteristics, such as body hair and aggression, and my preference for traditionally feminine traits like long hair and gentle demeanor, reinforced this understanding. I've found solace in exploring my femininity through various means, from embracing long hair and feminine clothing to connecting more comfortably with girls and rejecting rough play and competitive sports. Although I am going through all of this, I have only told a single person, which is one of my wonderful friends. My parents and other friends aren’t aware of this though. However, I’ve told my friends that I prefer to go by a different name and it helps me feel more secure. I just curl up in a ball sometimes in my bed and cry about wishing I was a woman. My parents come in my room and I just tell them that I’m really tired and want to go to bed early. This is how it goes every time and I’m getting sick of it. I can’t deal with looking masculine especially since I’m currently going through puberty and gaining those type of features. In my state it is illegal for people under the age of 18 to take gaht. I’m in a really tough situation and am trying to seek help another way which is through Reddit. Please give me any advice you may have(:

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Shuttle Oathkeeper-32, Malgeiru (2,000 Ls)

POV: Eupprio, Malgeir (Executive)
Eupprio more closely observed the platoon of Terrans bantering with each other as the shuttle headed into blink. All of them were wearing matching sets of bulky armor and keeping their helmets within arm’s reach, even within the hulls of their shuttle. A couple of them had their translators off, speaking in a smooth-flowing alien language. In the corner, one of them was feeding herself from a bag of delicious-smelling treats, the scent wafting through the cabin and teasing Eupprio’s senses.
She noticed their leader was staring at her with both of her forward-facing eyes. “Enjoying the circus, Pupper?” she asked.
“Just not used to seeing so many aliens in one place,” Eupprio replied, flashing a warm smile back at her. “We have some Granti where I’m from, a couple of Schpriss at my company. But never so many in one place.”
“Better get used to it quick then,” the squad leader chuckled. “Not a whole lot of non-Terrans in Sol yet.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
The Terran hurried to explain. “Not because we aren’t a welcoming bunch—”
“No, no. I get it. The war,” Eupprio said, her shrug rippling through her fur. “What are your names?”
The Terran woman grinned and tapped the chest of her armor where something was written in Terran script. “Naser. Aida Naser.” She gestured towards the man beside her, “And this is Abe.”
“Nice to meet you, Eupprio,” Abe said, holding out his hand for her paw to shake, a ritual that she’d been briefed on before and performed effortlessly with grace.
Eupprio pointed a claw at the distinctive orange-black circular insignia adorning the Terran’s shoulder. “That’s a new one to me. Never seen that one before.”
“Ah, you’re probably used to the Republic flag insignia. We’re not part of the Navy or the Marines,” Aida said. “We are—”
“Mercs,” Abe interrupted her, grinning unabashed. “Space mercenaries.”
Aida shot him a playful, chiding wag of her finger. “What did I tell you? We don’t use that word here in front of guests.” She turned to face Eupprio. “We’re contractors. Private security consultants. The outfit we belong to is called Interstellar Enterprises, but everyone just calls us Black Hole Sun,” Aida said, pointing at the insignia on her shoulder.
“I’m sure there’s a fun story behind that,” Eupprio commented politely.
“Nah,” Abe said, his smile fading. “The opposite of fun. That was the original name of the outfit. A few of our guys went postal and shot up a civvie station in the Red Zone. Killed a bunch of innocent people. That was bad for business, so the higher ups changed our names. Nobody’s fooled though.”
Eupprio struggled to keep the fur on the back of her spine from rising. “This… do you know the people—”
“The guys who went nuts? Nah, that was like twenty years ago. One of them killed himself and the rest are all in prison for life now,” Aida reassured her. “I promise we’re not them. We’re a pretty big outfit: twice as many people deployed in the Saturn Red Zone as the Terran Marines do.”
She forcibly eased the tension from her shoulders and asked, “Why is that?”
Aida shrugged casually. “Republic doesn’t like it when Marines die on the frontpage news, but the situation there isn’t going to stabilize itself, so they put us in instead. We do pretty much the same job. Most of us are ex-Marines anyway. Except Abe, he was a fancy Navy pilot. Pay is better than the service though.”
Abe interjected, “Pay is better. Hours are better. Big fat bonuses. You can get in and out whenever you want.”
“Yeah, but if shit goes down,” Aida said, “We’re the ones getting shot at first and blamed if it goes bad. At least it hasn’t been so bad the last couple years with the planet alignment the way they are. So… you know, pros and cons.”
“Fascinating,” Fleguipu remarked from besides Eupprio. “You really would go to war for mere credits?”
“We don’t make those decisions, ma’am,” Aida replied, then chuckled. “We merely profit from them.”
“And there’s an old Terran saying,” Abe added with a sly grin, “If you’re good at something, never do it for free.”
Eupprio’s curiosity shifted to the bulky firearm attached to Aida’s hip. “What about equipment? Who pays for that?”
“Taxpayers, usually. The fun jobs are cost-plus contracts, so we just tally up our loadout and charge it to the Republic,” Aida said, deftly unholstering her sidearm. “You like mine? Latest model Hyperion-30, EVA-rated.”
With practiced ease, she ejected the magazine, double-checked its emptiness, directed the barrel floorward, and squeezed the trigger, eliciting a dry click. Safeing the weapon, she offered it to Eupprio, grip first.
Eupprio’s eyes went wide, gingerly cradling the cold weapon in her paws. It was heavier and more stable than its sleek design implied. “I’ve never used something like this before. How does it work?”
“How does it work?” Aida echoed. “Point and shoot. Here, I’ll show you. If flyboy Abe here can learn to use one, anyone can.”
Abe threw her a dirty look and a hostile-looking gesture.
Aida leaned in to Eupprio, pointing at the base of the weapon. “That’s the grip. Try to wrap your hands— paws around that.”
Eupprio grappled with the unfamiliar shape of the firearm which was evidently not designed for her physiology. After some fiddling, she managed to secure a grip, albeit an awkward one.
“Alright, good, keep your trigger… claw out of this hole before you want to fire,” Aida instructed. “Now, point it straight in front of you.”
Eupprio aimed the barrel at the row of Terrans on the other side of the shuttle, closing one of her eyes like she’d seen in movies before.
“Nah, keep both your eyes open. Now, on the side of the gun, there’s the safety. Flip it up with your claw.”
She fumbled around the side of the weapon with her second claw until she found the switch. She applied pressure to it until it clicked audibly. She blinked in surprise as a holographic interface snapped up in front of her face. Blue outlines encapsulated each of the Terran contractors across the shuttle cargo bay, save for one, framed in an alarming shade of red.
“Red means dead. When you pull the trigger, the gun finds the target you’re aiming at, guides the barrel towards it with the built-in inertial compensator, and blows their brains out. Or it snaps to whichever body part is exposed, if they’re in cover. Or the thinnest part of the cover, if nothing is exposed.”
Eupprio hastily moved her claw away from the trigger assembly. “That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s about it. Nothing complicated about it. There’s also an option to select multiple targets and fire in automatic, but don’t worry, you probably won’t ever need to use one of these. If you do, both us and whoever is trying to kill you have done our jobs very, very poorly.”
Fleguipu looked at it interestedly. “How much would it cost to buy one of these off you? We’ve got some Republic credits.”
“Nah, tempting as it is. No weapons for you Puppers,” Aida replied, sighing a mix of temptation and duty. “They might take you shooting on Mars if you ask, but you’re not allowed to take one of these out of Sol. So don’t try to visit a gift shop on the way out, either.”
“They’ll know?” Fleguipu asked, sounding slightly disappointed.
Eupprio knew what her friend was doing and she approved of the quick-thinking. Something like this would probably sell for quite a bit back in the Federation. Or maybe she was planning to have the engineers in the company’s new arms design division try to copy it—
“They always know.”
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Raytech — Olympus Campus, Mars

POV: Martina Wright, Terran (Executive)
Martina Wright, high-level executive at Raytech Corporation, held the artificial smile on her face until the representative for the shady “security services corporation” exited her office and the door closed. She knew they were a shell company fronting for one of those Titan smuggler gangs, but hell, they had credits and she had mid-21st century “mining radars” to sell. At least they weren’t the terrorism-inclined Saturnian Resistance Navy; those sanctions on them were airtight.
“What next, toaster?” she asked into thin air, glancing to look towards the answer from her corneal implant at the bottom edge of her vision.
Meeting in 28 minutes: CSMC R&D.
Ceres Ship Manufacturing Corporation, Research and Development division. They were big on acronyms on Ceres, not so big on subtlety.
Martina frowned. “They’re still having trouble with the experimental EW profiles we sent over last week?”
No. They integrated those successfully on Monday. This meeting, they have two items on the agenda. First, they plan to make you a personal offer.
“A personal offer, huh? How much are they offering to pay me to switch teams this time?”
Not enough.
“Too bad. Any chance I can leverage that into a raise?”
Slim but yes. About the same odds as being struck by lightning in the atmosphere of Jupiter.
“That’s… not too bad, right? File it with the board. Maybe they’ll—”
Done. Pay raise request rejected by board assistant.
“Darn, too bad. What about—”
Four additional paid vacation days approved and added to your calendar.
“Cool, I want to go see him on leave—”
Coordinating with his scheduler program… done. Tickets booked.
“Nice. You said that was the first thing. What else did CSMC want to talk about?”
Iris Engine Joint Project. They seem to have hit a wall on one of their sub-projects.
“What’s wrong?”
Unclear. Our sources suggest they’re having issues with Znosian computers.
“What? Didn’t we agree to just rip the Bunny trash out of those ships and put our own in?”
Yes. I can see no rational reason why they would be having these issues.
She thought for a moment, then smiled in understanding. “Ah, they’re trying to reverse engineer and clone the Znosian combat algorithms, aren’t they?”
That is… a possibility I ignored. The tactical and strategic capabilities of Znosian combat algorithms are… unsophisticated. Very. Unsophisticated.
Martina thought she detected a generous helping of contempt in the pauses in her implant’s output.
She smiled, “Relax, tin can, we’re not replacing your digital friends at Atlas Command just yet. They’re probably just trying to emulate it in our own programs so they can better model Bunny behavior in battle planning.”
That… may work.
“See? Another reason they have us smarty-pants humans running things. What would CSMC need from us?”
Manuals. Navy reconnaissance footage. Access to Malgeir fleet black box data.
“Fine, we’ll get those to them. The last one might take a couple weeks… Converting currency is such a bitch, and their officials only take their funny money for bribes.”
Actually, there might be an easier way: one of our local contractors may have access.
“Which one?”
Eupprio Tech, Fifth Fleet sensors upgrade project. CEO is on her way to Sol. ETA about six days.
“Convenient. Is she as uh… flexible with ethics as the other Puppers we work with on these things?”
More so than usual.
“Excellent. Schedule the meeting.”
_I have a question: why are we helping CSMC with this project? Can we not simply_—
“Sure, we can just try to beat them to it. I’m sure the engineers down at R&D made a dump of those computers before the Navy made us hand them over to the other companies to take a swing at it too. But it’s a lot of work to invest and I’m not sure I believe in the concept. Non-deterministic, doesn’t account for their high-level commanders who ignore the algorithms, and we’ve already got a pretty good model ourselves from observing them. Revealed behavior versus theoretical behavior, I think our computers win every time.”
So you do admit it was a bad idea that I correctly discarded.
“Ah, but see… Just because we shouldn’t do it doesn’t mean we can’t make a little money off CSMC’s hubris. And who knows, maybe they do find a breakthrough early. They do have a lot of modeling experience over there.”
Fine. Agreed.
“Well?”
Aligned intent with their assistant. Agreed to data exchange. Meeting objectives accomplished. Meeting cancellation request processed. Next meeting… 3.5 hours.
“Sweet,” Martina grinned, kicking off her shoes and settling into her office couch for a power nap. “Wake me up in an hour or if the office catches fire.”
Wait. One more thing: there is the matter of payment for our help with CSMC.
She opened her eyes in slight annoyance. “Calculate the value and piggyback it onto… whichever one of our contracts needs it for the tax credit… thing. Whatever. Work it out with their assistant.”
Already done.
“Nobody likes a show-off, toaster.”
Have a good nap, inefficient meatbag.
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Previous

Hi bros, NB tiny human seeking suggestions as to where to buy panties for a 6’2 jacked trans woman. Women’s stores look too small (I suck at women’s clothing, I wear briefs). Her kink is women’s underwear so something with a penis pouch isn’t ideal.
It’s a little comical having us both transition at the same time.

”You sure you got the right address? I don’t think anyone lives here, man.”
I peeked at the towering mansion behind the steel gates for the second time. The walled garden stank of rotted roots even from this distance, so I rolled up the car windows and breathed through my shirt as I spoke on the phone. Something about the boarded-up windows, pillared porch and the dilapidated state of the massive building gnawed at my conscience.
“Come on, dude! Chickening out or what?”
“Who did you say called?”
“Some girl; I didn’t get her name.”
“And she called me by my name?” I said, looking around the darkness-shrouded vicinity. “If this is some fucked up prank, I’ll—”
“Not only that. She called you by your real name, dude.”
“You’re the only one who knows that, asshole.”
“That’s exactly my point! Look, if you don’t want to do this, fine. But if she’s telling the truth and those fuckers beat us to it, I’ll fucking kill your ass!”
I placed the phone on my other ear, rolled down one of the windows and scanned the outside.
“I don’t see a damn thing, goddammit! Where’s the girl—”
The call disconnected as the phone slipped through my fingers. I spun my head and looked in the direction of the banging. Only when I noticed the contour of a young woman in her early twenties did I stop holding my breath and relax my shoulders. She motioned for me to roll down the window.
“Hey, Mikail is it?”
“You’re the one who called us here?”
She stooped over and leaned in. Taken aback by how close she got, I turned my face away and felt my cheeks burn. What was up with that smile? She looked as if she knew me or something—
“You’re not getting out, huh?”
“What?”
“I don’t bite, you know.”
I gulped. I wasn’t much of a ladies’ man and the few girlfriends I had over the years were people I knew from my childhood. While I had a decent face and a large build, I had sustained some trauma growing up which rendered me incapable of talking to girls. Not anything huge, just the usual getting-rejected-by-a-pretty-girl-in-public kind of stuff.
“Do I know you?” I asked as I stepped out of the car and followed her to the steel gates. She hesitated before answering as if she was considering how much she was going to let me on.
“I don’t think so.”
“But we’ve met before?”
She let out a laugh, “Why do you think that?”
Without letting me respond, she unlocked the steel gates and ushered me in through the wilted garden swarmed with flies wherever I rested my eyes. The way she laughed made me feel small and humiliated, so I didn’t dare to say anything for a while. But as we approached the pillared porch on the verge of collapse, I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself anymore.
“You called the channel and asked for me. You knew my name.”
She came to a halt as she was about to open the weathered door and turned to face me. Her cocked head a mix of confusion and amusement.
“Everyone knows your name, Michael.”
“You didn’t say that a moment ago.”
“Hmm? What are you talking about?”
I dropped my eyes as I tried to find the right words.
“True, everyone knows me as Michael on the channel. But you called me by my birth name; you called me Mikail.”
The smile across her face faded away as she straightened her neck. Her expressionless face was an enigma, a box of secrets that chilled me to the bone. When the smile on her face finally returned, I followed her emerald eyes as they kept avoiding my brown ones. What was this feeling? I turned around as her eyes locked onto something behind me. The next thing I knew was a blur of motion before everything turned black.
***
Ring, ring. I snapped awake upon hearing the distant sound of my phone ringing. Seated on a wooden chair in the middle of a dark and damp place, my hands were tied behind me. Something dripped on my forehead. I looked up. Startled, I jolted up only to fall sideways to the wet stone ground with my legs bound together. Panicking. The ceiling was suspended with untold limbs, some ripped apart, others disfigured beyond recognition. When my heart calmed down, I scanned the darkness my eyes got accustomed to and noticed that I was behind bars. What in the whole world was going on? I spun my head to the right, realising too late I wasn’t the only one in the damp cell.
“Took you long enough, man. Want a joint? Keeps you alert.”
The smoke got all over my face. The dude in the corner wasn’t tied up but he was hardly skin and bones. I could see the ribs through his hole-riddled shirt drenched in grime and sweat.
“What- what’s this place?”
“You’ll figure it out soon enough. Sure you don’t want—shush! Can you hear that? They’re coming! Quick! Get back on the chair before they see you!”
I followed the shrill screams growing louder with wide eyes, unable to move an inch. My limbs froze and my mind became a muddled mess. The joint guy crawled and helped me back on the chair, which was barely sturdy enough to carry my weight. Fearing the worst, I let my neck hang from the chair and shut my eyes in time with the rising bars. Something stooped over me. The stench of the saliva hitting my face and trickling into my half-open mouth almost made me twitch. Whatever leaned over me now headed to the other guy. Where were they taking him? The poor thing screamed his head off, begging for his life. I had to shut out all sounds to keep his pleas from getting to me. Only when the bars dropped did I dare to open my bloodshot eyes.
I looked around in the cell, searching for anything that could possibly help me out of these tightening ropes. That’s when I saw it, just inches from the bars. A shard of glass. With newfound energy, I jumped my way to the grille and let my eyes land on the glass on the other side. I wouldn’t be able to reach it in this state. Blood dripped on the tip of my nose. I peeked up. A suspended leg, with some flesh still hanging on, greeted me. Fuck! I stood on my toes and bit on the bone that stuck out, desperately trying to pull it down. As the rotten flesh gave in, the bone slipped out and hit the wet ground. I was so focused on the task at hand that I didn’t notice I was being watched from the other side. When the footsteps finally reached me, I grabbed the bone with my toes and jumped back to the chair. I slid the bone slightly under it and pretended to be unconscious again.
I flinched as something hit the bars repeatedly, screaming at the top of its head like a wild animal. When the thing finally retreated, I got back to work and managed to bring the shard of glass closer to the bars. At this point, I was drenched in cold sweat and several minutes had passed. I cut myself free and tried to unlock the cell. It didn’t budge. Now more panicked than ever, I looked around myself in the cell to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. I was. There was some sort of vent I could fit through on the right-side wall. If I were quick enough, it would take me no more than ten minutes to climb up the suspended limbs and reach the vent. As I was having these thoughts, the moment of truth came much sooner than I anticipated. This time, they were coming for me, I just knew it.
I placed the chair close to the wall and climbed up to the vent while keeping myself steady on the suspended limbs. When I finally made it to the vent, I looked down and locked eyes with a morbid creature. Its cocked head displaying a mix of confusion and amusement. Its fangs bloody and sharp, even from this distance. Then it came to life.
“Mikail, where you going? The fun’s only begun.”
Without looking back, I escaped through the vent and made it to the walled garden. They had slashed my wheels so I ventured into the dense woods instead and spent the night there, cowering behind an uprooted tree for hours on no end. As soon as the sun rose above the horizon, I hightailed it out of there and managed to reach the path that led to the city.
I quit broadcasting after this incident and retreated from social media. My fans were heartbroken and many demanded to know what had happened to me that night. I couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t even tell the guys. It kept ringing. I kept hearing my phone ring. Even in my dreams. Like a never-ending nightmare, I felt my blood sucked dry each night as if those fangs bore into my skin. Maybe they did. I couldn’t tell what was real or a hallucination anymore—something dropped on my face. I looked up.
“There you are. Mikail.”

I’m just tired!
I love my mom but I can’t stand her. She wants things to be done her way, people to behave the way she accepts, listen to her, be like her. Anything different, she doesn’t approve.
I’m an MBA Graduate, but I haven’t been able to achieve much anything career wise and I trying my best to move forward. Working on a new business which is small, but my mom doesn’t approve it because it’s not big enough of an idea, and at times she says it’s best to have kids and take of them, you’ll atleast be responsible then.
I’m married but due to circumstances, my husband and I have been staying at my parents place. Not a day goes by without getting shouted at by her, she yells I keep the room dirty, have too many products in the bathroom, too many clothes, I don’t help in the kitchen, I don’t do house work and so on! I’m equally involved in everything she and my siblings do, I do all the grocery shopping and run errands but nope she has to shout at me for not being upto her mark or being helpful in anyway.
A remark everyday about how I look, that I got to lose weight, braid my hair, wear clothes she approves, look like a married woman and just please her. She threatens my that she’ll send to my MIL atleast then I’ll be afraid of someone and behave. I’m a fucking 29yr old to be afraid of someone! My siblings too get shouted at constantly. We are constantly told that though they’ve provided everything, we aren’t good enough. We aren’t successful.
I’m short tempered, but I try not to say much when she triggers, but when I don’t say anything it’s a mistake or when I say too it’s a mistake!
I’m waiting to move out, get my life on track on work on my business.
I feel bad for having negative thoughts or hatred against her, for feeling the way I feel coz she’s my mom, but I’m so tired of this mental stress, that I’ve lost motivation in anything and everything, I just want to curl up and disappear forever!

Mark hailed from the Aegean city of Smyrna. His father, Hatzi-Konstantes, however, came from Thessaloniki while his mother Maria was a native of Smyrna.
Mark was a traveling vendor who would travel to Kusadasi (New Ephesus), Chios and in their regions. He was married in 1788. Motivated by his brother, he eventually went and settled in Ephesus. There he became involved romantically with another Christian woman named Maria and thus committed adultery. Caught in the act, they were both arrested. Being brought before the Aga, they both converted to the Islamic religion. Mark was adopted by the Aga and circumcised, and Maria was brought to the harem of the Aga. Later he let her free and allowed her to live in her own home, and gave her a salary.
Now the son of the Aga, he was externally hard on Christians, but Mark's conscience began to bother him soon after because of his denial of the Orthodox Christian faith. He therefore went to a spiritual father to confess his sin of adultery and apostasy. Maria would go to the same spiritual father. Both insisted they had to leave Kusadasi and asked the help of their spiritual father. They had already lived as Muslims for nine months. The spiritual father advised Maria to pretend being ill. A physician friend of this spiritual father "examined" her and recommended her to go to Smyrna where there was a cure. The Aga allowed Maria to go accompanied by Mark, but soon after the Aga realized their deception and sent a message to the Pasha of Smyrna to capture them. Mark then found a ship to Trieste, Italy and taking Maria they left. Due to some obstacles they were forced to disembark in Venice in 1792. Having been chrismated back into the Orthodox faith in Venice, they were married (perhaps his lawful wife had died by this time), and they lived in repentance and contrition.
Due to the past denial of his faith, it still left Mark uneasy, so he wandered with his family, until they arrived in Russia. Eventually he returned to the Turkish occupied territories and confessed to many spiritual fathers, metropolitans and patriarchs of his fierce desire for martyrdom. All of them tried to dissuade him, saying that it was not only dangerous for himself but for other Christians, and that repentance sufficed for his salvation. But his fierce desire to confess for the faith led him back to Kusadasi, where he had first denied his faith. Before doing so he prepared for martyrdom in Chios under the guidance of St. Makarios of Corinth and St. Nikephoros of Chios, with whom he stayed for several days. His spiritual father did not permit him to be martyred in Kusadasi, because the Turks were still enraged over the martyrdom of the recently martyred Saint George (April 5) and the new church being built there in his honor.
Mark therefore went to Chios where he visited various churches, frequently receiving Holy Communion, and preparing for martyrdom through the advice of St. Makarios of Corinth, St. Nikephoros of Chios and St. Athanasios of Paros. He presented himself before the Aga there saying: "I was a Christian named Mark. My origins are in Thessaloniki but I was born in Smyrna from Christian parents." He then went on to confess his Christian faith and denied Islam. He pulled a cross out from his chest and kissed it, threw down his turban, and put on a skoufi from Mount Athos. The Aga asked him if he was crazy or drunk. Mark responded that he was neither crazy nor drunk, but he was hungry from not eating. Furthermore he said that he was ready to spill his blood for Jesus Christ.
He was arrested and locked in prison, with his feet bound in stocks, which were a wooden torture board. One of the officers wishing to punish him for his constant singing and prayers to God would adjust this wood to cause him greater pain. But while being tortured, Mark would still melodiously sing hymns to God. The officer would kick Mark, forcing him to bleed from his mouth. However, Mark thanked God for his sufferings.
Sometimes he was given promises and sometimes he was given threats to deny his faith and return to Islam, but he refused. They would beat him and even threw him down some stairs, and while on the way to prison they would cane him. In prison they tightened the wood so much that his feet were nearly dissolved. Yet the Saint would constantly chant and say: "Lord, receive me, your denier."
Certain Christians managed to enter the prison to encourage the Martyr. To them he also told of his struggles. While in prison Mark received divine revelations which helped strengthen him to end his struggle through martyrdom. The local church also managed to allow mark to receive Holy Communion regularly while in prison and be visited by a priest. From the moment the Saint was imprisoned many Christians strictly fasted and prayed for him. The churches daily held services for him, and not only in the churches, but also in the homes of the Christians. The Saint would encourage them to pray for him, but to not feel sorry for him. He would tell them to rejoice, not be sad, for his wedding was tomorrow. He foresaw his death, and thus asked everyone's forgiveness, and sent his thanks to all those who prayed for him and stood by him.
On Wednesday 5 June 1801 he was taken from prison to the Aga, where there were gathered all the agas and mufti from the region. After his third confession he was sentenced to death by the sword. Mark left the court overjoyed, his face shining. And although his feet were crushed and hands were bound, he literally ran to the place of his execution as if he did not touch the earth. The guards could not keep up with him and even they said that a demon was hovering him in the air. A crowd gathered as if they were about to watch a sporting event. The Saint knelt and told the executioner: "Come on, strike!" The executioner felt awkward by this and was unable to behead him with one strike, and in fact his sword flew out of his hand. The Saint fell motionless, without being agitated or screaming. The executioner therefore grabbed the sword, and with many strikes he beheaded Mark. It was 2:00 A.M.
The Christians glorified God. They ran to the churches, expressing their joy by singing the praises of his martyrdom. Many sought to acquire some belonging or relic of the Martyr, whether it be soil soaked with his blood or a piece of his clothes. The Christians managed to recover the body of the Saint after giving much money to the authorities and they buried his holy relic. His life, written by St. Athanasios of Paros, records many miracles that have been attributed to Saint Mark following his martyrdom. A Service of Praise was composed for him by St. Nikephoros of Chios. A portion of his relic rests in the Metropolis of Chios, and another is in the Holy Monastery of Saint Nicholas in Imerovigliou in Thera.
Source

This is taken from and is copyright protected by globalsoup.net, a website that promotes flash Fiction with annual writing contests.
I am reprinting these Flash Fiction Prompts because they are outstanding ways to freewrite and offer plenty to work with for those who want to learn how to write Flash Fiction.
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We’ve put together 100 flash fiction prompts, each one designed for a very short story. These prompts will probably be best suited to a story of between 300-1,000 words. If you want to write a longer story using these prompts, you can easily expand these ideas to fit a story of any length.
What is flash fiction?
Flash Fiction is defined as a very short story that can be anywhere from just a couple of words to about a thousand in length. The beauty (and difficulty) of writing flash fiction lies in trying to tell a complete story in so few words. Great flash fiction is succinct, emotive, thought-provoking, and impactful.
What’s the difference between flash fiction and a short story?
The only difference between flash fiction and a typical short story is the word count. However, this scarcity of words means that writing flash fiction can feel like a completely new skill. Just like the short story is a different animal to the novel or novella; flash fiction is kind of unique.
When writing flash, you’ll need to use fewer characters, a simpler plot, and you’ll have to make each word count. This is why editing is so important. You have to be brutal. Cut out everything superfluous and really make sure each and every word is performing an important function in the story. If you’re interested in writing very short fiction, why not check out drabbles? Drabbles are stories of exactly 100 words in length, and they can be a great way to practice keeping your stories very, very short.
How to plot a flash fiction story
When you sit down to write flash fiction, you must begin by choosing an appropriate plot. You cannot simply use a short story plot and tell it using fewer words. A typical flash fiction plot is like looking at one part of a story under a microscope.
For example, let’s look at prompt #21 in our list of 100 Flash Fiction Prompts:

1. Two people on a sinking ship must decide who should take the last seat in the last lifeboat. If you were writing a novel about a sinking ship, you’d probably want the actual sinking to be the climax of the story. Of course, there are infinite ways to write a novel about a sinking ship, but this would structurally be the most obvious. You’d use the first part of the novel to introduce your characters and describe the voyage leading up to the sinking and the sinking of the ship would be the dramatic climax, leaving the last part of the book as the resolution.

The golden rule of writing short stories is to begin as close to end as you can. So, to turn the same story from novel to short story, you’d probably want to begin with the ship sinking. You haven’t got time to introduce the characters before the action begins, so you’d need to feed in exposition and backstory here and there during the events.
All stories need a good climax. So, you would find the most dramatic moment in the story and build up to it. Perhaps your climax would be the two main characters having to decide who will take the remaining seat on the last lifeboat.
Finally, you need a resolution. In a longer short story you do have time to bring in some kind of satisfying resolution at the end.
But, if you’re writing flash fiction and your story is only a few hundred words, you really need to zoom in on one tiny moment in that story.
You don’t have time to tell the entire story of a sinking ship, but you can turn one moment into a story.
We’ve chosen the lifeboat situation as the key moment in this hypothetical story. Two characters must decide which one of them will take the last seat on the last lifeboat. This is an appropriate plot for flash fiction because it’s simple, high-stakes, dramatic, and thought provoking.
Not all flash fiction will have a plot quite this dramatic, but all great flash fiction will have a plot that can be expressed in just one or two sentences.
If you have a plot in mind, but it seems more suitable for a longer story, you can sometimes find several flash fiction plots hidden within it. Just look for little stories within the story, like the lifeboat moment in our hypothetical tale of the sinking ship.
This brings us to our top tip for coming up with ideas for flash fiction stories:
if you’re ever stuck for ideas, you can find little stories within the story in books, movies, and TV shows. A full length feature film might have as many as 20 little incidents in it that could easily be flash fiction.
Don’t directly write a story based on the film, though. Just carefully pick out those little moments, write down what’s happening as a one or two sentence plot, and then use it to inspire your own, completely original flash fiction story.
One of our 100 Flash Fiction Prompts was actually taken from the movie Pulp Fiction!
How to write very short flash fiction
There are several reasons writers might start writing flash fiction. Of course, it could be that they just love and enjoy the form, but sometimes they’ll be a more strategic and practical reason at play.
Perhaps they want to practise the process of writing stories within the confines of a certain word limit. Maybe they are trying to develop a daily writing routine and they don’t have a lot of free time. It could be that they’re trying to break a habit of not finishing writing projects, or perhaps they are entering a flash fiction competition.
Whatever the reason, very often when we sit down to write flash, we must work under an imposed or self-imposed word restraint. We’ve set ourselves (or been set) the task of keeping the story under a particular number of words.
So, how do you plot a flash fiction story when you have to keep your story very, very short.
We’re not going to discuss stories of 100 words or fewer here. Technically, those stories are still flash, however, we prefer to categorise 100 word stories as drabbles and anything under 100 words as micro fiction.
But what if you have to keep your flash fiction story under, let’s say, 300 words? How do you write a flash fiction story that short?
The answer is: get your microscope out again. Remember earlier when we said writing flash fiction is like looking at part of a story under a microscope? If you have to write very short flash fiction, you’ll need to zoom in even further.
Let’s look at a couple of examples from our 100 Flash Fiction Prompts:

1. During a match, a young boxer must decide whether to throw the fight.

If you had 1,000 words to devote to the story, you could have time to tell the story of the entire fight. With only 300 words, it might be better to zoom in on the very moment when the boxer must choose whether or not to go down.
In a longer flash fiction story you might have time to go into detail about why he’s in this situation and why he’s so conflicted. In a 300 word story, you might only devote one or two sentences to his gambling debt and the large sum of money waiting for him if he goes down in the third round, as instructed.

1. A family must decide what to take and what to leave behind as a wildfire approaches their home.

If you had 1,000 words to devote to this story, you might be able to write about the whole process of choosing what to take and what to leave behind. You might be able to mention many different choices and have the whole family participate in the story. You’d be able to go into some details about certain choices and the stories behind individual objects or mementos, as well as the implications of choosing certain things over others.
With only 300 words, it would be advisable to zoom in on one member of the family and to focus on one profound and important choice.
How to write a flash fiction story
Now you have your mini plot, you still need to make sure your flash fiction feels like a complete story. It should still have a beginning, middle, and an end.
Just like a short story, you may need to bring in a little exposition here and there to give texture, context, backstory, and to bring some depth to the characters. But, unlike a short story, you won’t necessarily need to end with a full, detailed resolution. It’s quite common for a flash fiction story to end with a quick twist or plenty of ambiguity.
Flash Fiction is much more about eliciting emotions and provoking thought, than setting up and resolving a complex story.
100 Awesome Flash Fiction Prompts
A young ballet dancer chooses not to tell the other dancers in her troop about a loose paving stone outside their dance studio.
Two sisters realise they’ve both been on a perfect first date … with the same man.
On the car journey home, two parents realise they’ve left their child’s favourite teddy on a park bench several hours away.
A writer suffering from writers’ block looks for inspiration in a strange place.
Set 200 years in the future, a young man realises he’s too emotionally dependent on his robot assistant.
A young woman discovers she’s taken the wrong suitcase home from the airport. The contents of the case make her question her own life choices.
A murderer realises he has only 10 minutes to dispose of a body.
A child decides to walk home by themselves after their parent forgets to pick them up from school … again.
Your protagonist manages to talk the grim reaper out of collecting their soul.
Your protagonist suddenly realises they’ve been living in a simulation.
A young couple has chosen to spend the night in a haunted house to fix their marriage. Your story starts just as things get very weird.
Your protagonist finds a letter they wrote to themselves when they were a teenager.
Your protagonist must decide whether or not to drink from a fountain that erases all painful memories from the mind.
Your protagonist comes across a street called ‘Memory Lane’. They quickly realise the name is eerily apt.
A bride finds out something startling about her future husband an hour before the wedding.
Your protagonist finds an advertisement for a company that promises everlasting youth.
A youngest sibling shows up at a family reunion they weren’t actually invited to.
Your protagonist finds a piece of paper with a spell on it. If they say the words out loud they aren't sure if something terrible or wonderful will happen.
Your protagonist is watching a jazz band play when they realise they know the drummer from somewhere — but where? It takes a whole song for them to figure it out.
Your protagonist must meet their ex for lunch to tell them they’re now engaged. It’s been just a few weeks since they split up.
Two people on a sinking ship must decide who should take the last seat in the last lifeboat.
During a match, a young boxer must decide whether to throw the fight.
Your protagonist must pack their belongings before moving to a new colony on mars.
A pilot realises they have lost control of their aircraft.
Your protagonist doesn’t want to attend their 100th birthday party — and for good reason!
Your protagonist gets stuck in a lift with their ex … 5 minutes after breaking up with them.
A child says goodbye to the fairies in his garden before moving to a new home.
Your protagonist saves someone’s life … and then wishes they hadn’t.
Your protagonist arrives at a blind date. They’ve been set up with someone they actually know a little too well.
Set in a dystopian future in which public displays of affection are banned, your protagonist faces an agonising choice.
An agoraphobic must face their fear in order to save something important.
Your protagonist must make her partner fall out of love with them. Both their lives depend on it.
Your protagonist is hiking with her small children, they come face to face with a grizzly bear and her cubs.
Cinderella and Prince Charming realise they got married too quickly.
A message written in graffiti on a bathroom wall has serious implications for your protagonist.
Your protagonist finds a bag, looks inside, and realises the owner might just be their soulmate.
Your protagonist has been seeing the same stranger everywhere they go for months. They finally decide to confront them.
A couple realise their relationship is over during the trip of a lifetime. They’ve been saving up for the trip for years.
A public debate sees two previously married people letting their private grievances come into their arguments.
Your protagonist plans their escape from a retirement home.
A couple realise their fundamental beliefs are at odds with each other.
An artist develops an obsession with drawing a next-door neighbour.
Your protagonist finds themselves trapped in a cabin with a group of hikers during a heavy snowfall.
An ice skater must face going back on the ice after a dangerous fall.
A couple must decide their plan for New Year’ Eve. They both have secret reasons for their choice.
A family must decide what to take and what to leave behind as a wildfire approaches their home.
Your protagonist is waiting for someone important at the airport. They begin to think that person isn’t going to show up … and then they realise why.
Your protagonist must find their way through a maze. What they find in the middle of the maze is the last thing they were expecting.
An actor waiting in the wings has forgotten his first line.
Your protagonist is wrongly identified as a hero. Do they come clean?
Your protagonist realises their past is catching up with them.
Your protagonist overhears something that has serious implications for them while trying on clothes in a changing room.
Your protagonist is in a costume shop trying to decide what to dress up as for Halloween.
Your protagonist realises they’ve slipped into an alternate dimension.
A surgeon must make an impossible choice on the operating table.
A pregnant journalist interviews the mother of a missing child.
Your protagonist must ask his girlfriend’s father for his blessing, only to discover the father knows his deepest secret.
Your protagonist sees something on social media that will change their life forever.
Two work colleagues realise they’ve been dreaming the same dreams for weeks.
A reluctant daughter comes to terms with having to carry on the family business.
Your protagonist realises she must go on the run.
Two bank robbers disagree on their plan to rob a bank. This leads to a disastrous consequence.
A strange case of deja vous leaves your protagonist convinced of supernatural interference.
A sceptic begins to question their beliefs during a psychic reading.
Your protagonist uncovers a scandal at their workplace.
A hapless cook tries to recreate her late father’s favourite recipes in an effort to feel connected to him.
Your protagonist has a premonition that makes them certain they can’t visit their mother-in-law for Christmas. Now he must convince his husband.
A young backpacker discovers something unexpected in a cave.
An impulsive character and an indecisive character are brought together by chance. They must make an important choice.
Two characters cleaning up after a party discover an object that sheds light on something strange that happened earlier.
Two strangers are trapped together during a blackout.
Your protagonist must take a leap of faith in order to save something important to them.
Your protagonist discovers a huge part of their life has been a lie.
Your protagonist has set up an elaborate way to propose. Inexplicably, everything goes wrong.
Your protagonist must buy a dress for her mother’s funeral.
Your protagonist goes back to her favourite city in the world, only to find it has completely changed.
While stargazing, your protagonist realises the stars are forming secret messages in the sky.
Your protagonist hears a news story on the radio that will mean the world changes forever. However, she seems to be the only person who heard it.
Your protagonist is crossing a frozen lake. They see something under the ice that definitely shouldn’t be there.
A workaholic must come to terms with retirement.
An Olympic athlete must decide whether or not to report their teammate for doping.
A young mother feels isolated from her childless friends.
Your protagonist is about to realise their greatest ambition. Will it be everything they were hoping for?
Onboard a spaceship, a couple prepare to go into stasis for hundreds of years.
Your protagonist has an obsession with thinking about the past.
Set in a post-apocalyptic future, your protagonist meets an unlikely love interest.
Your protagonist visits a place from their childhood and realises their memories of that time might not be accurate at all.
A small child has decided to run away from home. Her parents watch on with amusement as she decides what to put in her backpack.
On a whim, a bus driver decides to radically change his route, much to the chagrin of his passengers.
Dystopian. A couple in love are only allowed to spend time with each other one day a year.
A shapeshifter begins to realise their powers are fading. They must decide what form will be the last one they take before they cannot change again.
The devil visits your protagonist with an offer on her soul.
Your protagonist suddenly has the ability to read minds. There’s only one place they want to go now!
Your very wealthy protagonist has designed a simple test to see who will inherit her estate.
An archaeologist discovers something that will change how we see the history of the world. It could be dangerous. Does he keep it to himself?
Your protagonist must clear out their late mother’s house. She discovers an incredible family secret.
Your protagonist is meeting his brother. They haven’t seen each other for 20 years.
Your protagonist develops the ability to see the world literally through someone else’s eyes.
Your protagonist starts to believe their partner might be a spy.
Your protagonist discovers a hidden camera in their living room.
Looking for a flash fiction competition? Check out our ‘Big List of International Writing Competitions!’ Looking for inspiration? Why not check out our list of the 20 Greatest Short Story Writers of All Time! Just received another short story rejection? Here’s our post about ‘How to Deal With Story Rejections’ Bonus Prompts! Two characters waiting by the side of the road realise they are both meeting the same person.
A woman loses her young niece in a busy shopping mall.
Three strangers must solve a riddle in order to gain entry to a secret club.
A poor woman must borrow ingredients from her neighbours to bake her husband a birthday cake.
A waiter finally finds out why an old man has been coming to the restaurant where he works every day at exactly the same time.
Two work colleagues must decide which of them is to take the blame for a terrible mistake at work.
Your disgruntled protagonist goes to confront the couple next door about the strange noises they’ve been hearing at night.
A family dinner party sees three characters make three very surprising announcements.
Two women argue over who should get to buy the last dress available in a store. How do they decide who should get it?
A young couple find out they knew (and disliked) each other vehemently as children.
Love writing stories? Register now for our free 7 Day Story Writing Challenges. Write a short story in a week, get extensive feedback on your entry, and compete for a prize of £500 in each round of the challenge. Register today!
Mastered the art of flash fiction? Now you can try submitting your stories to literary magazines! We’ve compiled a list of the best literary magazines that don’t charge a reading fee! Check out our Big List of No-Fee Literary Magazines.

I was thinking of posting this on something like rpg, but I think the context in the RED world would be hard to port, so please bear with me.
I think I need to come to some realizations about the group I usually play with. We're friends who played together irl for a while, went our separate ways, and then reunited, playing via internet. I'm usually just a player, but the two regular DMs were out of the rotation, and so I was asked if I wanted to run. I'd been looking into RED a bunch, and decided to give it a shot. I do feel like I've done a lot better running in this iteration than I ever had in the past, but that's not even the point.
I should probably preface now that the group has always been impressively chaotic in gameplay. I chalked it up to a couple of the players in particular being particularly uninhibited by potential harm to their characters, and valuing a commitment to the bit over character preservation. Sometimes it seemed to get a bit out of hand, but I really enjoyed it. It kept games exciting, added a massive element of unpredictability, and for me just added a level to the games when it worked. When it didn't work... well, I tried to write those off.
The game had a promising start (Red Chrome Cargo), then a weird turn when I ran Haven't a Stitch to Wear when in Ms. Mynah's night market one of them killed Red (the guy harassing Mynah) by accident, then the group threatened and roughed up Mynah, eventually even attacking her for basically no reason. ("Because I'm sure she's hiding something.") I wanted to run the group as falling out with the Fixer community entirely - attacking a prominent Fixer without provocation was enough imho (and others) for Fixers to no longer want to work with them. I really worked with the group on this out-of-character. I discussed what I wanted to do, what it would mean mechanically and practically, and why. They didn't like the why, but agreed to give it a shot. I said there would be new Fixers, but they would be shadier and scummier than the average. Dark themes would be very common. Payouts would be lower. I introduced a new score representing how much they were considered Pariahs in the edgerunner community.
The first session of the new arc went well, introducing both a new Fixer (based on Saul Goodman) who works with the Inquisitors (Evil cult gangs need disposable mercs sometimes too, after all), and the Inquisitor who was actually contracting them. I got great feedback, was even told that they were the most memorable NPCs I'd ever made. Things were looking up.
Then they weren't. The mission was to destroy the servers in a clinic in Heywood, a bonus for destroying the clinic's stores of cyberware. (The group would discover that the clinic does a lot of charity work for people who need replacement limbs and can't afford the work.) Every session there were debates about doing the job for the scratch or turning on the Inquisitors. I was actually really happy about that since the moral quandary was supposed to be front and central. But it kind of stagnated. I was surprised how many sessions were dedicated towards really very little. I tried getting the group to debate plans outside of sessions since we don't run often, but couldn't get traction. One of the PCs went rogue, ignoring any and all plans the group had made, ended up sparring with the one person in the clinic with a combat background, who had been made as a miniboss if the group tried attacking the clinic, and then tried singlehandedly swiping his clothes and keycard. It didn't go well. The character ended up spilling the entire plan to attack the clinic to the person most responsible for the clinic's security. Were there ways that I could have handled this better? Yes. Absolutely. But in the meantime, this kinda put the characters in a hard place. The clinic knew who at least one of them was, and that there were plans to attack.
Things spiraled worse from there. I'll spare you the details. After accidentally setting off a grenade while trying to threaten their Inquisitor contact in a club, things went very downhill. NCPD pulled them in, and trying to figure out what the easiest way to not kill them out of hand, I had the Inquisitors bribe NCPD and move them into their own custody. The Inquisitors offered them an ultimatum - do the mission or else. I was met with total flippancy. Two of them (both rather wounded from the whole affair, and with their weapons and armor confiscated) tried making fun of the Inquisitors, hurling insults and overall not taking them seriously at all. Out of ideas, I had the two characters killed. The ultimatum, after all, had been serious.
(I'm not good at combat, and the fact that the killing went without a hitch actually ended up somewhat hinging on an incredibly well placed lucky roll - one of them was very high BODY/REF/DEX, and crit success rolled a 26 to grab the executioner's weapon. I decided that I'd live by the dice or die by them, and rolled publicly. Crit success. 27.)
Like I mentioned at the beginning of this whole rant, I had always marked these players as not really being concerned about their characters, so I was completely unprepared for how bitter they've been since. One of them, now about a month later, still referred to me as "flipping the table and pulling the rug" recently. (As a reason to not want to have to invest effort in another game if I'm running.) The other said I'd sicced a lvl 25 Dragon on them, referring to the Inquisitor bruiser they went up against in the club after the grenade. (He was a hardened lieutenant, the group was already wounded and had done zero recon.) I've watched them lose a lot of characters over the years, and was really caught off guard. I asked, they said that their other deaths felt earned, but this was just unfair.
I've asked around a lot, and any other GM I've talked to thought that, if anything, I gave a ton of chances, maybe even more than I should have. The dichotomy was profound for me. One even wants to use the extended story as their new lowest bar example of "do stupid things, pay the price". On the other hand, these players were hurt. I've thought about it a bunch, and I think I need to come to terms that I had them marked wrong all this time. They aren't chaotic because they want to be, they end up looking chaotic because they don't understand social cues.
Probably the biggest difference between other games we've played and the one I ran is that mine was primarily a social sandbox. There were the Inquisitors and the clinic, and while the group could pick to just bum rush the clinic or burn bridges with the Inquisitors, but the story clearly leaned towards finding out more about both groups, and that was all social nuance. I really think it was a language they didn't understand, and was likely already leaving them frustrated. One example: one of the characters tried asking their Inquisitor contact for more eddies for the job, and the Inquisitor said "if you have a specific plan that needs additional gear or considerations, let us know what it is and we'll consider it, but no, we're not paying you more just bc you asked for it", but there was never any (serious) attempt to try to come up with a plan, or ask the Inquisitors for any help planning. In fact, I had the Inquisitor in the club ready to offer them some material help, but she was never able to get it out since the grenade happened first.
The comment about the deaths feeling unearned really drives me that way. Unearned? They flip off the Inquisitors, set off a grenade in public, and then from a position of being on very low HP, no weapons, no armor, go about being obnoxious to them some more. The clinic knew the group were in cahoots with the Inquisitors and knew where one of them lived. All of this, ofc, was after they attacked pretty much the nicest Night Market host in Night City without provocation. I was originally really confused, but after I thought about it, I think this is the answer. They just don't understand social interaction.
To be very, very clear, I am not being disparaging. I like these people. They are my friends. I did not and do not want to cause them distress. It's just a weird revelation for me. I've known them for years by now, and just never put it together. I will also state for the record that there was some very good feedback on things I could have done better as a GM, it wasn't all the bitterness.
Even after all of this, they at least said they wanted me to keep on running (I think most of them meant it too, but only have my own instincts for that), so I started thinking about what might work. I came upon an idea to give them an abandoned building in the Old Combat Zone, and basically make it slice of life like. I took a page from West Marches, and figured I'd develop the setting, and let them say what they wanted to do. This would, ofc, rely on them being able to decide what they wanted to do. Build a drug emporium. Clean out the gangs. Create their own gang. Anything, just give me time to prepare it and I'll run it. This was a big change for me. I love social sandboxes and the relationships/interactions that form in games. But I was convinced that they were simply not a medium that would work.
Initially, it looked good. I got group buy-in. They were willing to try it. But then there were zero messages over a week. I was a bit puzzled, and asked about it, being met with "what? we need to talk about it? no time/not interested/why." That's when I realized that I hadn't believed myself enough. Saddling them with the responsibility to have to discuss as a group and come to a conclusion couldn't possibly work. 10+ hours into initial prep, I scrapped the idea. rip.
I'm rather bummed out. I feel like I have great ideas, but simply don't have the medium to express them. Worse, it's even made me despair from being a player in some of the other games that are picking up now. I see the ghosts of my conclusions there, realizing I've been moving towards playing characters who act as the bridge between members of the group in order to get us cohesive enough to not completely fragment over random things. I don't even think that's bad, but atm it just feels like work. I'm considering taking a break from games in general, but we're a small group, one of the gang has had to bail bc of work, and I wonder if my departure dooms the rest of the games. Even worse are the feelings, even with the realizations I still feel like my stories got got, and they feel like I came out of nowhere and killed them for no reason.
I don't have any specific moral or question here. Like I said, I think I'm just venting. I'll get over it all soon enough. Maybe a cautionary tale about the nature of TTRPG players as people. In any event, thanks for reading, choom.

Hi is there are group for petite woman who have suggestions as where to shop for clothing or are we allowed to talk about that in this group? Everything is so expensive but yeh small online boutiques and bigger websites anything and everything please let me know!

Hey y’all. Lately I’ve had a ton of anxiety about my landlord hating me. They’ve never said anything to me but I rent their basement so I can hear them talking about me through the vents. I’m really scared they are going to try and evict me.
I had vocal lessons for about a year, once a week for 45 minutes at 430 pm. I quit because I could hear them standing in the room above making fun of me and laughing and imitating me or I’d hear the wife screaming and stomping and slamming doors so loud stuff falls off shelves in my house. Again they never said anything to me. This is just what I can hear.
I was talking about global warming and how if it gets to be in the 40s in the summer we may need to think about a small single room AC to use one week a year when that happens. I’ve heard them talking about how stuck up I am and I’m not getting AC for just me the world doesn’t revolve around me etc.
I do smoke pot, never once anywhere near the house. I go a minimum of a block away before I light anything and I go for a 10 min - 1hour + walk in order to air out. When I come home I change immediately, and put all the clothes I’m wearing in a closed cupboard to cut down on smell. I wash my hands and face, use mouthwash and spray perfume. I keep my weed in smell proof bags, inside smell proof contains inside a smell proof case, which I only open outside. I can hear them say they can smell it they’ve never mentioned it to me. So in case the smell was coming through the cupboards I’ve started warming a dish of vinegar and putting it in there once or twice a day to prevent any smell from storage. I heard one of them ranting for 2.5 hours about how much he hates me and he was claiming he’s going to have to rip out all the counters when I leave because supposedly the smell has absorbed in and it’s ruined. My partner does not smoke pot and can’t smell anything and doesn’t know what they are taking about. They however do smoke pot right outside the front and back doors with their friends. Which is their right but I’m mentioning it because they clearly aren’t anti weed.
My house is very very clean. I clean once a week and go larger tasks on a monthly rotation. My oven is cleaned regularly. My windows and window sills. I clean out my washer tank and dryer vents every 60 days. I vacuum multiple times a week. I’m not sure if they have another rental property somewhere but I heard them saying when they “get in there” they will have to remove mould and some fixtures due to damage. I don’t know if they were talking about some other property I don’t know about or if they were implying my house is dirty or damaged in some way. It is not.
They were talking about offers and I can’t tell if they are buying a new place or selling this one or just already looking for new renters.
We pay rent in cash so we see them minimum once a month and they ask us if everything is good and we do the same. They’ve never once brought any issues up with us.
Do you think they are trying to evict/get rid of us? I can’t afford to move and don’t know what I would do if they did. I’m getting married next year and I can’t think about it because my housing situation has me so stressed. I can’t sleep I feel sick constantly and I try to avoid being in the house whenever possible to avoid having to hear people talking about me.

(Context: I (20) Am an Amab nb person. I've been using she/they pronouns for i want to say 4 months now, and I was using they/them for about two years before that.)
I guess to start with a tl;dr: I wish I was born Afab, wish I had boobs, and hate being associated with being a man, but I'm unsure if I want to pursue transitioning. I'd like helpful resources and y'all's experiences with Estrogen/transitioning.
Much longer version:
I've wanted to be able to change genders for as long as I can remember. My entire life it's been a common thought. But I never gave it much credence, as i simply assumed all normal people thought that, and normal people were cis (in my mind). It wasn't until high school, after much self evaluation and long friendships with multiple gender queer people that it occured to me to ask my then-girlfriend: "Does everyone think about how badly they wish they could switch gender?"
This kickstarted my journey to figure myself out: wearing makeup, occasionally dressing feminine (although finding feminine clothes is difficult as a 6'4 amab person built like a linebacker), and regularly reconsidering my pronouns. At first I thought I was nonbinary, then gender fluid, then back to nonbinary but she/they. I've known for over a year now that if I could 'choose my avatar' I would prefer to be Afab, but I don't feel that I struggle much with dysphoria. I have no issue with my penis (I'm quite attached to it actually), nor my body or even facial hair. I do feel dysphoric about my quickly thinning hair and lack of boobs, and find more and more that I can't stand to see myself in my feminine clothes because they just don't look right on me. I kind of weirdly think of myself as nonbinary, but hate being a man, and desperately wish I was born afab, and also experience some dysphoria. But i struggle to see myself as a trans woman.
Despite recognizing that my experiences seem... Very trans it was an idea that I dismissed outright for the most part. I felt that i wasn't dysphoric enough to count or something, that if i was really trans it would be worse. But upon talking to my friend who's a trans woman, she expressed feeling nearly identical to me before realizing that she was trans. And yet... I don't know. It still feels like I'm somehow not enough of a woman mentally to be trans, or that even if I was it doesn't matter because I could never pass, and I don't even really want to. I still like my facial hair, I still like dressing masculine oftentimes. But I also know that I'm not 100% happy where I am. I wish my body had different fat distribution, I wish I had boobs. But I find myself wishing I was just born Afab, but unsure if I want to transition. Like I know I would be happier if I was born as a woman, but it feels like it's unobtainable now.
I know reddit isn't qualified to tell me if I am trans or not, and you don't know me Even if you were qualified. But I guess I'm more so looking for resources to help me figure things out, and to hear if anyone has similar experiences. Feel free to ask me pretty much anything at all, even if totally unrelated.
Also as a final note I'm terrified of estrogen and intend to do much more research on it before really considering it, but I'd appreciate good resources/anecdotes on its effects as well.
Sorry for the entire Fucking essay, and I'd really appreciate any comments.

I did an underwear refresh a few months ago and thought I'd post my findings here. Went with two pairs from four different brands (all briefs):

1. CDLP
2. Lululemon Always in Motion
3. Sunspel
4. Calvin Klein

They've all only ever been washed at 30° max and always air dried, never in the drier.

1. CDLP (£32 per pair)

A popular choice at the price bracket but truly awful quality. The elastic started poking through the waistband after just a few washes on both pairs and the fabric doesn't feel particularly premium. You'll see complaints over quality across the internet if you look hard enough and I unfortunately completely agree. These are in no way worth the money and I'll be surprised if they last to the end of the year. Avoid at all costs.

1. Lululemon Always in Motion (£25 per pair)

I'm an on and off fan of Lululemon. Like their trousers (ABC Utilitech, not flimsy warpstream) but not their tops (always too long, even though I'm tall). Their Always in Motion underwear though is very good. No signs of wear after a few months, a premium feel to the materials and they're the only pair that feel like they truly support my junk.

1. Sunspel (£37 per pair)

Disclaimer, Sunspel is probably my favorite brand. At this point, half my wardrobe is Sunspel. If you like fairly plain, well made clothing you can do no better in my opinion. Unfortunately this doesn't extend to their underwear as after a few months, the elastic on one pair has started to poke through (the other is holding up ok). At this price point to have any elastic showing after such a short amount of time is unacceptable. Avoid.

1. Calvin Klein (price varies widely)

Old reliable. Been wearing CKs for over 15 years. They aren't the very best but they're better than most and give similar support to the Lulu's. Quality depends on where you get them but no elastic showing on either of the pairs so far and pairs I've had in the past have lasted years before the elastic shows.
Conclusion
CDLP is a rip-off, plain and simple. I will never be buying anything from them again. Sunspel is unfortuantely not much better, at least for their underwear (their clothing holds up very well). That leaves Lulu and CK. Lulu are undoubtedly better but cost £25 whereas I can find a three-pack of good quality CKs for £21. So overall, if you're flush with cash, buy 10 pairs of Always in Motion. If you're just looking for good quality underwear at a reasonable price, go for the CKs.

I (31F) dated my ex (35M) for 1.5 years.
I was single for 2 years when I met him and I absolutely rushed into a relationship with him because I felt lonely and wanted a boyfriend again.
He's funny, well-spoken and handsome. But we don't have much in common which was the least of our problems...He has: - anxiety (which in itself is not as issue, but he doesn't know how to manage it), - anger issues, and - a drinking problem.
In the time we we dated some of the things I experienced were him smashing his phone, smashing two microwaves, throwing a chair through a wall, and ripping up his clothes just to name a few.
Adjacent to all that, he is very intolerant and had some very exclusionary views which were surprising since we were an interracial couple. As our relationship progressed he also could not stop talking about news and politics, he has absolutely gone down the rabbit hole.
Other issues I had with him is that he subscribes to red-pill culture, and is jealous and insecure.
I hated dating him and I fell out of love with him 6 months into the relationship but didn't have the strength to leave until a full year later because I was hoping he would change and I was also scared of being single and feeling lonely again.
I broke up with him in February and for the first couple months I felt great. In early May he reached out to me trying to reconcile but fortunately I was strong and told him there's no way (it also helped that I was seeing someone for a few weeks at that time too).
Now that summer is approaching I'm back on dating apps and I am not thrilled with what I am seeing. I hardly swipe right on anyone and if I do get matches I try to initiate conversation but men don't reply. I also don't have a lot of friends to spend time with. I end up doing a lot of things by myself which makes me feel even more lonely. I take workout classes, I go for walks, I'm reading a book right now, I've signed up for different women's groups in the area... but I spend way more time alone wanting to do something with someone then actually having anyone to do something with, and no matter what community events I go to I don't meet men (romantically) or women (platonically) I'm compatible with.
As a result, despite remembering how awful it was dating my ex, I miss him a lot. I know it's only because I'm lonely, but I can't stop thinking about him.

Part 9
Kathy Evenson, Professional
In the streets of a small town, somewhere in the Seventh World
"Now, that might be the finest pack I ever seen, Kath," Kells said as Kathy pushed her arms through the straps of her backpack and fastened the buckle in front. She pulled the slack out of the arms and turned to smile at him.
It was a modern pack. A fairly expensive one, too. MOLLE attachments were on every surface, and it had actually come as a kit, with a pair of main bags and two or four of several different size compartments, to be attached as needed, customized to each consumer. She'd spent quite a bit of money on it, but with the Agency always willing to reimburse her for expenses related to her work, she hadn't sweated the price tag.
Kells and his men, on the other hand, had simple canvas sacks with leather reinforcements and straps. Nevin, the one who had doubted that she killed a walker, had the fanciest one, with some sparse cloth padding on his shoulder straps and an extra compartment. They were all well-made, but worn, simple, and primitive. In comparison to those, her pack really was remarkable.
"Thank you," she said. "Would you like one?" Kells blinked in surprise.
"I have an extra," she added. "It's yours. I literally have no use for it."
"Err, um, it's a bit late fer me t'be transferrin' all me supplies..." Kells demurred. Kathy gave his shoulder a pat and a squeeze.
"I'll help you do it when we stop to make camp," she said. "You've got to put the pack together, anyways."
"Aye then," Kells said, his face splitting into a grin.
"When this is all over," Kathy added. "I can kit your men out with the same pack. And some other, more advanced tools than what you have now. And before you protest, know that I won't be the one paying for it."
"Aye," Kells repeated, his grin growing wider. Kathy had no doubt that the shrewd man had taken note of her clothing and kit already, and knew that she came from somewhere more advanced and wealthy than this place.
Dunnes, one of Kells' men, who seemed to be his second-in-command, walked up then. "We're all set boss. Any word on the Searchers?"
Kells looked to Kathy, who glanced up the street to where the inn stood. The only person in front of it was a local, walking past, leading a giant, dog-sized rat on a leash. Kathy had seen a number of those rats, and they seemed to be popular pets around here. She'd even seen a younger boy tickling one, and heard the rat giggling up a storm in response, when she came into town.
She ignored the recurring desire to secure one for herself and shrugged. "Last I heard, they were coming with us or they weren't. I guess they're not." She sighed, wondering how she'd managed to misread the situation. Luna and the others had so much of Jerry and Sarisa in them that she'd been certain she had a good handle on them. But apparently, she'd been wrong in assuming she'd talked them into this.
"I suppose not," she said. "Let's get moving, then."
She and Kells followed Dunnes back to the others. They all stood around a large cart, loaded with supplies for the journey. Kathy had shelled out quite a few of her chits to fill that cart, and she noticed that there were a few sacks she didn't recognize. That would be Kells' private stash. He'd told her that he regularly collected valuable things, for sale in the next town. The income from that bit of trading helped supplement his and his men's wages, keeping them flush with enough chits to always buy the best equipment and stay full on supplies. It was, in Kells' words, '...One o'the secrets o'me success.'
Fluffs took his place on the cart's handles, easily hoisting the heavy load with broad shoulders and tree-trunk-sized arms, and they began to move.
They had just passed the edge of town when Kathy's keen ears heard pounding footsteps on the road behind her. She turned to find Luna running towards them, a pack thrown over her shoulders, under her shield, and her sword bouncing along at her side. Kathy tapped Kells on the arm, then pointed back.
"Ho!" Kells hollered, causing the whole procession to slow down. Kathy stopped, letting Luna catch up.
"Decided to join us after all?" she asked.
"I didn't think you would get such an early start," Luna admitted. Kathy noted that the young woman wasn't even a little out of breath from her run. "We tend to sleep in late."
"Aha," Kathy said, wondering if they understood how dangerous that habit could be. She shrugged. She'd school them plenty during the journey. Speaking of which...
"Where are your brothers?" she asked. Luna glanced around, then met Kathy's eyes.
"They're here. They like to stay quiet and out of sight."
Kathy slipped her eyes into the magical spectrum and noted the four knots of dense illusion magic. Each one was about person-sized and shaped. She smiled at each one in turn.
"Glad you boys could join us," she said, then turned back to Luna. "And you, of course."
"We're only here because you offered to help us find and kill Gerard," Luna said. Kathy nodded.
"Don't you worry. A good man taught me the value of keeping my promises."
----
Gary Johnson, Surprised Old Dude With a Gun
Johnson-Wallace Residence, Baltimore, MD
"Whatta ya mean, coming out o' retirement?" Gary asked. Chris nodded.
"I'm an Einherjar, love," Chris said. "My retirement was always going to be temporary. Nat's old enough that she doesn't need me here all day, anymore. Hell, she's out cavorting with her friends now. I have no idea where they're at. I'm useless, sitting around the house, and both of us are neat freaks. There's not enough to keep me busy here."
"I ain't arguin' with ya," Gary said, needing to be clear on this. "But whatta ya gon' do? Join th'group? I dunno how well things'll work out, what with you workin' fer me."
Chris looked away, and Gary immediately recognized that he had a secret. Gary narrowed his eyes. "What ain't ya been tellin' me, Darlin'?" he demanded.
Chris sighed. "I've been talking to the Agency," he admitted.
"Oh shit," Gary said. "They want ya guarding more field agents out in Bumfuck, Nowhere?"
"No, they want me to be a field agent," he said.
"How much trainin' time?" Gary asked.
"Two weeks. They know my background, both with the Army and The Group. They just want to make sure I know the Company's procedures, test me, and then get me out there."
"D'ya know where they'll be sending ya?" Gary asked, imagining what it would be like to spend months on end without any contact with his husband. He didn't like it.
"Kathy needs a partner," Chris said.
"Kathy's a one-woman army," Gary shot back. "An' th'Agency damn well knows it. Iffen they're suggesting pairin' ya up with her, they're lyin' t'keep yer interest."
"It's not like that," Chris insisted, shaking his head. "The Agency's preparing for the worst, and with Kathy, they want to have her as an ace up their sleeve. Adding an Einherjar to that mix only helps maximize her effectiveness. You know she's as facile with magic as Jerry is, even if she doesn't have the same power or experience. She's got the same talent that man does. Being able to keep her from having to physically fight as much in any kind of engagement would allow her to be a lot more deadly than she is now. And I'm not exactly a pushover. I've got my rebirth time down to less than a tenth of a second."
Gary knew that Chris had been working on his rebirth. One of the advantages of being Einheri was that, if Chris ever got killed, he'd respawn back in Valhalla, ready to fight again. The only delay was that caused by Chris returning to wherever he'd fallen. More than once, Gary had found Chris' lifeless body laying around the apartment while Nat was out, while a living Chris did laundry, cooked, or watched television.
"Tenth of a second ain't instantaneous," Gary pointed out, but it was a lame objection. The mere shock of Chris returning in an eyeblink after dying would more than offset that small amount of lost time in most fights.
Chris didn't respond, knowing as well as Gary did that it wasn't worth responding to. After a moment, Gary spoke again. "I ain't trying t'argue with ya," he said.
Chris nodded. "I know. It's instinct. You lost me once, and even knowing that you can't do it again, you're scared."
"Ayup," Gary admitted. Chris stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, so Gary took Chris by the waist and squeezed. He felt Chris' head resting on his shoulder and nuzzled him.
"It's gonna be all right, Pookie Butt," Chris whispered. Gary snorted a laugh.
"Don't call me that, dammit," he groused, but his heart wasn't in it.
Chris pulled back, grinning, so Gary kissed him. A simple peck on the lips turned into two, which turned into a longer kiss. When they finally separated, Gary sighed. "It's fer th'best, really. I know you can raise hell, and right now, we need all the hell raisers we can get."
"That's kinda what I'm thinking," Chris agreed.
"This business about pairing ya up with Kathy needs addressin', though." Gary went on. "I'mma put a word in with my own contacts. See iffen I can get ya assigned t'work with The Group, as an extra liaison. We could use that level o'boots-on-the-ground contact."
Chris nodded. "I was told we'd be paired up once she finishes her current assignment. That we'd both be working closely with The Group."
"Good," Gary said. Then he nodded. "Good," he said again.
----
Sookie, On Point
Security Training Facility, DCM Central Regional HQ, Denver, CO
"Breech!" Linda cried. Sookie rushed forward, her foot lashing out to kick the door, right in the middle, without breaking stride. The door swung open, shuddering on the hinges as she rushed through and broke left. Right behind her, Jim Carmichael broke right. Emily Windham followed Sookie and Linda brought up the rear, behind Jim.
The pop-up targets began to move, the sensor on the door triggering them. An armed target appeared from behind the bullet-ridden couch, so Sookie smoothly lined her red dot on it and dumped a quick trio of shots through the center mass. She moved on as someone else fired, behind her. The noise was deafening inside the shoot house, but her earpro was doings its job well enough.
"Clear," Emily radioed.
"Room right," Jim said through the speakers in her headset. Sookie heard the crash of another door being kicked open. "Frag out," he added.
A deafening crack split the air. "Clear," Jim announced as soon as the echoes died down.
Sookie made for an archway as Emily's hand came down on her shoulder. Before she passed through it, she angled herself against the wall, getting an angle on the room beyond. It looked clear for the moment. She pied out, sweeping the room until a pair of targets popped up. A screaming woman and a man holding up his hands in surrender.
Sookie shot the man, three more rounds right through the chest. Emily fired from behind her and to her left, but Sookie had broken the habit of taking her eyes off her own lane already.
"Stacking!" Linda called out. Sookie slowed until Emily patted her shoulder, then went back to her smooth, rolling gait. She kept her short-barreled rifle up. This gun was a lot more useful in this tight spaces than the sixteen-inch barrel she'd started training with.
It was a modified M7 Spear, with a 12-inch barrel, modified and enchanted by the Group in a Mk15 configuration. The lens of the red dot optics on top could zoom up to 74X, and the 'dot' itself -actually a tiny crosshairs- would always point to right where the bullet would land, regardless of range, angle or windage. The gun never heated up, the magazine never ran dry, and there were selector switches and magical hooks allowing her to dial the ammo to a variety of different types. High-explosive, frangible, training ammo that would vanish after imparting a lot of kinetic energy but not yet penetrating, target shooting ammo, armor-penetrating... The list went on for some time, and the hooks included a 'smart' component that could automatically select for her. It was the nicest gun she'd ever fired, and she suspected that was true of the others, as well.
It was also the only bit of kit she'd taken from the Group. The standard armor and uniform didn't suit her. Instead, she wore the battle rattle she'd spent the past few months training in, comfortable and familiar with it. Under that, she wore a tight, yet flexible false leather catsuit. It was expensive, and it showed off her modest curves and shapely behind in a way that felt natural. It moved easily, didn't get caught on stuff, breathed well, and provided excellent protection against minor scrapes and cuts.
She found no other doors in the room, so she keyed her radio mic. "Clear," she called.
"All clear," Linda confirmed. They all relaxed.
"Under six, for sure," Jim said. Linda winked at him. "Maybe," she said, then turned to Sookie.
"What's up with the surrender?" she asked. Sookie quirked an eyebrow, so Linda gestured at the last target she'd shot.
"That guy's surrendering. Why'd you shoot him?"
Sookie walked over to the target and tapped the little protrusion next to the man's neck. "That's the butt of a gun," she said. "With his hands up like that, he could have grabbed it and fired in the blink of an eye. He wasn't surrendering, he was pretending to surrender."
Emily walked over, peered at it and laughed. "Holy shit, good spot!"
Linda looked closely at it for a second, then shook her head. "That's Director Johnson, striking again. Man, he really likes to keep us on our toes. Good eye, Sookie. I didn't catch that at all."
The filed out of the small structure and checked the large clock on the wall. Five point seven three seconds.
"Fucking nailed it," Jim said.
"Isn't six seconds the passing grade?" Sookie asked.
"Nine seconds is a pass. Six seconds is the pass for Black Team," a new voice said. Sookie turned to see an unremarkable looking man approaching. He wore a polo shirt with the group logo on it, khaki pants, and had a small handgun holstered on his belt.
"Hey, Bob," Jim said. Bob walked up and shook Jim's hand, then greeted Emily and Linda the same way.
"And you must be Miss Ohma," he said, facing Sookie. Sookie eyed him. He was handsome, in a somewhat bland way. But his eyes sparkled with both a deep humor and a vast intellect. She'd seen eyes like his before. They belonged to the most talented warriors. The men you dared not underestimate. She smiled, her lips curling into their most seductive state of their own accord as she extended a hand.
"Call me Sookie," she purred.
"How about I call you sexy?" he replied in a low, smooth voice, taking her hand and kissing the knuckles. Sookie grinned, her libido flaring for the first time in a long time.
"That works, too," she said.
"I'm Bob Brown," he went on, his voice returning to a low, relaxed tenor.
"Captain Brown," Linda added. "Of Black Team."
Sookie smiled and batted her eyelashes at him. "Are you here to recruit me?"
"All of you, in fact," Bob said. Bill gasped. "And not so much to recruit you as to ask you to do the rest of the Black Team Q course. And if you pass that, then yes."
"Sookie doesn't work for The Group," Linda said. "She's a client, in fact."
"Shame," Bob said. "But I think I have a new question for the legal department."
"I'm also a registered contractor," Sookie added, sensing her chance to spend some time around the bland, dangerous man slipping away. A distant part of her brain noted the way her libido was, once again, a factor. She didn't quite know how to feel about that. It felt like a relief, but also like a betrayal. But she didn't know who she was betraying. Certainly not Eric.
"Oh?" Bob asked, raising his brows. Sookie thought he looked like the kind of guy who'd be a good dad, which was hot, even if she couldn't give him any children. Maybe he had some already. He wasn't wearing a wedding band, but he did have a pale strip around his ring finger.
"Uh huh," Sookie went on. "And I'm certified to do security operations, too." She saw Linda turn and put her hands on her hips, staring, so Sookie turned and smiled.
"I'm a lover, not a fighter, but sometimes I can be useful. I've never been afraid to fight, I've just never been very good at it."
"That clock would beg to differ," Bob said. He produced a tablet from his back pocket and tapped on it. A moment later, Linda's phone dinged.
"Sergeant," Bob said. "I just sent you the requirements. Now, if you four are interested in joining Black Team, then I'd be happy to stick around and mercilessly judge your performance. You've already done the shoot house, provided you got the fake surrendering guy."
Emily nudged Sookie with an elbow. Sookie grinned. "I got him," she said.
Bob smiled back, every bit the image of a proud dad.
"Good," he said. "Now let's see if you can handle the hard part."

My friends are thinking of visiting Morocco this summer and invited me along, I'm thinking of joining but know that homosexuality is illegal, etc. there. I'm a woman but I present very masculine (have short hair, wear men's clothes, etc.) and I'm worried about being harrassed/traveling relatively safely. Does anyone have any advice in regards to traveling as an obvious queer-looking person? I am accustomed to going places and sticking out but I have heard that it is different in Morocco. Thanks!

Okay, everyone! I just got out of the meeting with the Executive Assistant and the CEO about my dress code.
First I just wanted to answer the question I was seeing a lot about why I haven't said anything to HR.. well, because the executive assistant is HR... we don't have an HR department...
TLDR: They don't like how my body looks in the clothing and the fact I wear dark colors basically.
I really wanted to be prepared for this meeting, since I am the youngest and I'm a bit of a pushover I wanted to make sure I didn't get bull-dozed over in this meeting. I printed out the section of the handbook that explained the dress code, and when I got home yesterday, I changed into the last four outfits that I had worn that I was dinged for and took pictures, including the outfit that was half my stuff and half the stuff they bought me. This morning I went around and took a few pictures of my co-workers (I asked for consent) who were wearing ripped jeans, flip-flops, and graphic-t's. These things are clearly prohibited per the handbook. I also brought with me a top that was bought for me, (a blouse from shein bright orange and frilly) then wore a top that I bought for the job that was fairly similar (a blouse from H&M that was dark green).
I asked if I could voice-record the meeting so I would be able to refer back to the feedback. they said okay. They started off the meeting by telling me that it was inappropriate that I argued back yesterday and walked out. (some people were confused when I said I walked out. I didn't leave work, I just walked out of the office.) I apologized for the arguing back but followed it up by saying "I report to 4 different people and have many tasks throughout the day, you two know that Tuesdays are my busiest days and I was frustrated that I was being called away from my job duties to discuss my attire as I was in the middle of a very crucial tasks."
They tried to swerve around that statement and just went into why they brought me in. They told me that they had made multiple attempts to get me to adhere to the dress code and that I had refused to comply. I told them that I have been trying to adhere to the dress code, pulled out the handbook, and read it out loud to them. I explained that I had been following the dress code as it is described in the handbook and asked if they could explicitly tell me what I had been doing wrong, I had bought different clothing, I had worn the clothing that they bought me and I dress business casual even though the handbook says "jean casual" because I understand that being at the front desk means I should be dressing up a little more.
They told me that the outfits I choose to wear are distracting. I pulled out the pictures I had taken of myself and asked them to explain in detail what was distracting about these outfits because I clearly didn't understand. Their response "The black pants with the white polka-dots are inappropriate." in that outfit, I was wearing a white flowy top that fully covered my butt and had a high neckline with white flats. I asked them to elaborate, they said the pattern is distracting. I wrote down, no patterned pants in my notebook in front of them.
The next outfit was a form-fitting black turtle neck, tucked in with a belt and cream dress pants. They said that the turtle kneck was inappropriate because it was a tighter fit. I wrote down, no form-fitting tops. I then pulled out the picture of the outfit I wore which included the heels they got me and the boot-cut jeans with no back pockets. They said the pants were highly inappropriate since they accentuated my behind paired with the heels. I wrote, no heels paired with jeans. I was keeping my mouth shut still. I then pulled out the shirt that was bought for me. I said I'd like to know how this shirt that was bought for me and the shirt that I am wearing now are different and why one is preferred over the other. They said that the bright frilly one is more inviting and presents the message they want more than the one that I was wearing. The dark green is not inviting but the orange is. This was their reasoning for my silver vs. gold jewelry question too.
I then said, "Okay, I think I'm starting to understand." I pulled out the pictures of my co-workers. I asked, do you see how I would be confused when the rest of my co-workers dress like this every day." They said that the other co-workers are held to a different standard since they are in the back office. I just nodded.
I replied "Okay I think I understand. So patterns are not okay unless they are bright loud colors and floral print?" they nodded and smiled "And since I am in the front, I am expected to dress business casual/business professional. Not Jean casual as described in the handbook." they smiled and nodded and said "yes, we're happy to create a new handbook for you to refer back to." and then I said "and for the other outfits, it's not really about the items of clothing, it's about how my body looks in the clothes, and my body is the thing that is distracting everyone at work. Not the clothes." They sort of stammered a little bit and I said "I really try hard to make you guys happy but I think it's inappropriate that this whole meeting was done, taking time out of everyone's day just to tell me that my body is being looked at in a way that is distracting people from their jobs. I am very uncomfortable and am feeling sexualized and harassed at this point. I understand that the dark colors and certain patterns aren't what you guys are looking for. But the other feedback you've given me is just about my body and how it looks. My compensation is not high enough for me to afford to buy any more clothing for this job."
They told me that I was misunderstanding this whole meeting and that was not what they were saying at all. The clothing I wear is not inviting and not the message they want to put out, it has nothing to do with my body. They pride themselves in being an inclusive and safe workplace and would never intentionally make anyone feel sexualized and they couldn't believe that I was interpreting this as harassment. They said that they felt like buying me clothes was a kind gesture to help me work on my professionalism and they thought that I would have been more receptive of that. They also said that if I'd like, they can extend my hours so my compensation is raised. They said that they would be having another meeting with me about the new handbook and to look out on my calendar for it.
I was so frustrated (I am an angry crier, I did not cry but I felt it brewing.) I just smiled and nodded and asked if there was anything else they needed from me. They said no and I walked out of the office. I had so much more that I wanted to say, but I choked up and was upset I didn't say anything else. I am looking for a new job, I don't want to do this other meeting. I feel like it's not worth trying to fight it anymore... I guess I'll just wear the 4 outfits they got me every day until I find a new job. I feel a little defeated and have a sour taste from all of this, but can't afford to just quit. But I have the recording so I'm going to research to see if maybe I have a case here. I'm not meant for corporate America...

Background: 35, AMAB, 14 months on HRT, 5 months post orchi, closeted, boymoder, DPDR survivor.
This is both a help question and a vent.
I’m 14 months into HRT and honestly frustrated with the rate my face is changing at. Or at least I think I am. I’ve been having trouble with face dysmorphia, a wound leftover from spending over 20 years as a disembodied consciousness floating in the general vicinity of a body I loathed, so what I see in the mirror really depends on my state of mind and where I am in my hormone cycle (which isn’t stable yet) and rather there’s a week in the month. And I can’t retain that image in my mind for more than 5 minutes.
And this effect seems to apply to pictures, too.
On some days I see a face that’s more masculine than when I started, and on others I see a somewhat masculine woman in her late 20s or early 30s, and some days I see a mix of the two. I really don’t know what I look like at this stage of transition and it’s jarring.
I’m still boymoding and the gender dissonance is becoming an issue, but I’m not happy with my face yet and having trouble finding clothes in size “giantess with broad shoulders”. I’m hoping to start adjusting my presentation this fall.
I can’t remember if I saw a man or a woman in the mirror this morning. They had biggish breasts and and huge hands, a bad though hopefully advancing hairline, estradiol blue eyes, minimal facial hair, a weaker chin than when I started HRT (I just noticed that in the last month and can’t say I like it), and according to a post-op slut I have a crush on, great lips.
This current episode of dysmorphia started about a month and a half ago and it is getting to me. I’m going to buy my first makeup in the next day or two so I can start learning to exert control over what I see in the mirror. And I want to learn girl stuff.
It occurred to me while driving to work today that this might be a good sign for my transition progress. What if my self perception as it relates to my perceived gender is on the line between “man” and “woman” and about to tick over? Or maybe I just really need to make more trans femme friends who can tell me what I look like?

I [45M] think I have a problem but I'm not sure if you all feel the same way or not. I can imagine other guys not feeling this way too, here it is.
I'm probably among the most successful men in my area when it comes to attracting women. I've experienced it like this since I was 27 or so. I divorced at 37 and went a little hog wild and slept with 20 women in the first 6-7 months I was newly single. I just ripped through Tinder as much as possible. During that year I analysed how the apps changed dating and also how social media acted as a way to predict which women were whoring around by looking at who liked their thirst trap posts.
I would inevitable end up connected via FB or Instagram with women I slept with or was in the process of seducing. I also identified other men like me that were ripping through the apps and the same women. I couldn't be certain that these other men that were liking posts were as successful as I with these same women, but Im not naive in the least. If I was having such insane success rates, I have to assume others are too.
After that first year I settld with one woman for 2.5 years. We ended up breaking up and I was back to online dating, although I was disgusted with that now, and the lockdown were to start 2 months later.
During the lockdowns the most attractive woman in my industry/city (Realtor) started flirting with me on FB. She was married. I had had an eye on her for years but she was married and I never did anything. Now she was aggresively pursuing me and I absolutly couldn't resist, we started a 4 month fling. I really have no feeling about it anymore after witnessing how totally disconnected modern women are from their cheating. They cheat regualry and they think it's strange if you act like you care. Don't take it personal husband, what's the big deal.... this is how that think. Truly disgusting modern world we live in. I broke it off with her, she divorced her husband 2 years ago and she's now on guy 3 or 5 since me, same old 'whore master' dudes.
I'm at the point were I just assume a portion of the guys liking any womans posts have or are fucking her. I find that this is just a safe bet and reliably accurate from being on the inside. I know of several men that have been with some of the hotter women I was with through these years. These are the other 'whore master' men in my area. If one of these guys is liking a womans post that is into me, I ignore that women. I just find her disgusting and I'll never tell her or anyone why. Does anyone else suffer from this? I can't look at half the women in my arera now because of the men they exchange likes with. I've been inside the dating app ecosystem of degeneracy and anyone I see engaging in it is dead to me.

So, I am middle age. I pass phone screens easily. I'm experienced
That led me to a MS Teams interview with a male around my age who talked about his adult married daughter who also works for this bank in their wealth management dept.
He talked about her spouse and where they live, and how he drove from Chicago to the east coast to visit them, "because that's what father's do."
He talked about how the 2 financial advisors who work under him are successful males. And this role would support them, in a clerical capacity
I'm middle aged, Masters and have multi-industry experience and he said, we need a person to be in THIS support role for at least two to three years before striving for a financial advisor role.
Pay is what my earnings were in 2000.
As a woman, most men never ask me what I know or think. They see me as someone who works in a pink collar job, because I don't have a spouse or children to talk about in my interviews or at the work place.
Sexism and patriarchy at its finest. I can't escape it, even in Illinois (West of Chicago in the suburbs), Tennessee, suburbs of Virginia or Texas.
When people mention family, spouses, children in an interview, they want to know if I come with that package...."for potential leads...."
While I can give examples of when I developed leads in my other careers, as a non-married woman, healthcare and dental care are expensive. Married couples can save more versus a single woman. They have more spending power in this economy and the woman can keep her appearance up (hair color, nails, clothes, shoes, handbags).
My knowledge is there, but interviewers don't delve into that. They see a middle aged woman, and their thinking stops.
Is it necessary to bring up personal "family status stuff" in an interview to elicit a response?
I was told they were looking to STAY in this FA support role for 2 to 3 years before ever considering moving to a FA role. I need to qualify for a place to live (an apt), and replace my deteriorating car on the pay they were offering for the support role, $25.48 - $27.40 per hour. $35/hour is needed for a single to qualify for an apt, pay utilities and cover a car, health, dental, vision benefits.
I've worked in insurance (sales, claims, underwriting), mortgage, property management, retail sales and human resources.

Living in a suburban area of Europe, we had gotten us a pair of cute long hair Chihuahuas, which absolutely adored us. However, from time to time, my wife and me also wanted or needed to go to the movies or the theater without the dogs, sometimes even for a whole day, when we traveled to a city further away. To help us in these situations for a long time, we relied on relatives. However, as they were not directly around we decided, that we should get a dogsitter from the area.

So we setup a short ad in a local Facebook group as well as other local websites, looking for a dogsitter. Just a couple of days later, I received a WhatsApp message. A young woman from the neighboring village wrote she would be interested. She had experience with small dogs and availabilities on many weekends, as she was studying and needed time to learn and could use the cash. I talked to my wife and we decided to invite her for the next evening for an interview. She asked, whether we could time it according to the train schedule, because she did not have a car, and we were happy to oblige.

The next evening, just when I got home from work, the doorbell rang, and I opened the door to see a maybe 20 year old, roughly 1.7m tall sporty black women outside. Due to the summer heat she only wore jeans shorts and a tight fitting belly open top. This of course could not hide her D/DD breasts. "I am Becky, I'm here for the dogsitter position" she said, so I invited her in and took her to our deck, where my wife waited with our little fur babies. I immediately noticed, that Becky's eyes widened, when she saw my wife on the deck. As it was, as already mentioned, summer, my wife wore a black Bikini below a light, black beach dress. None of this could really hide her G-Cups and her petite but chubby/bbw figure. At first I thought she found my wife's dress to revealing, but closer examination showed, that it was more like she was checking her out.
While my wife asked Becky if she wanted something to drink, I excused myself for a second to get out of my work clothes into something more appropriate to the heat. I decided for a pair of beach shorts and a muscle shirt. When I got downstairs again after a few minutes, the two women were chatting and already the dogs seemed to like Becky. When Becky saw me she also seemed to have a closer look at my upper body and legs. (The regular swimming pays of nicely).
When we all were sitting around the table we asked Becky a couple of questions regarding her past experience with dogs and her general availability. She said, as she wasn't much of a party girl and preferred to focus on her studies, she is generally available most evenings and weekends. However of course she also has other clients as well and it's first come first serve with her. As we tend to plan our weekends often a couple of weeks in advance, this was not a problem for us. We also agreed on a per hour salary and agreed, that she could use our TV and everything whole she was at our place. Food however would be her own responsibility and she of course could not bring other friends into our house. As these were acceptable terms for everyone, we made a short contract everybody signed and we agreed on a first evening in two weeks time, when I needed to be on a business trip and my wife had a cinema evening with some of her friends .

Two weeks later, my wife called me in the evening after her cinema evening. She told me, that everything went well with Becky and the dogs. Unfortunately she had come home just a little to late for Becky to catch a train, and she would have had to wait for another hour for the next one. So she offered to take her home. As she had been out with the scooter, she had handed Becky a helmet and one of my motorbike jackets and away they went. At the beginning, Becky had held her around the waist, but my wife told me, that during driving, Becky's hands had slipped higher, so by the end it almost felt like she was holding her at the boob. But of course this could also be just a coincidence due to both of them wearing motorbike jackets and gloves. I jokingly suggested she had been groped and should think of appropriately punishment which she dismissed while turning on the TV. "Did you watch one of the porn channels?" she asked me out of the blue. "No I didn't, at least not in the last couple of months" I told her. We talk about stuff like this pretty open. "Interesting" she said. "That means it must have been Becky, who left it on. Maybe you were right about the groping after all". As it was already late, we told each other about our day and went to our respective beds.

For the next couple of months, nothing special happened. We booked Becky about once or twice a month, but when we came home, the TV was always set to normal channels and she also approached neither me nor my wife.
About half a year after we first hired her, my wife an me went on another date night. Unfortunately while still at dinner, before we could make it to our movie, I got an emergency phone call, that I needed to help in a really urgent situation in one of the nearby lakes. My wife didn't want to go to the movies alone, so I drove her home, loaded my diving gear in the car, kissed the wife goodbye and went on. While driving to the lake, I got a text from my wife: "Becky is naughty, I need to punish her." "Go for it" I answered without giving it to much thought.

When I was back from the emergency about 4 hours later, my wife was still awake, as she always is nervous and can't sleep, when I'm diving. But this time she also looked quite smirky. Then she told me the story.
She had entered the house, and was greeted by the dogs, but she did not see Becky, nor did Becky answer her calling through the house. She then went upstairs, just to find Becky watching porn a porn scene on our TV set, with two women pleasing each other while being fucked in turns by a sporty guy. Becky's trousers and panties were lying on the floor, as was her top. She was completely naked. All the while she was wearing noise canceling headphones and fucking herself with my wife's favorite vibrator, with my wife's buttplug in her ass. My wife was angry and turned on at the same time and after short hesitation she approached her.
I would have given anything to see the shock on Becky's face when my wife tapped her shoulder. She was so far in her own world, that she hadn't realized my wife was already home. "Please madame, please do not fire me, I'll do anything, anything" she stumbled. Anything?" my wife said, "We'll see about that". Now get my plug out off your ass and my vibrator out of your pussy and clean them thoroughly in the bathroom. And don't you dare putting on any clothes before I tell you. Becky did as she was told, and cleaned my wife's toys, while my wife made her way to the bedroom, removing her panties and here bra below her dress. Lying on the bed as if she was still fully clothed, she called in Becky: "Get your ass in here and close the door behind you little slut" she demanded and Becky obeyed, naked as she was. My wife grinned internally, her bisexual urges slowly taking over. "What were you thinking, masturbating with my toys in my living room" she asked and Becky got really defensive. "One of the dogs lost something below the bed, and when I looked down I found the vibrator and I git really horny. I don't have a boyfriend right now and my female friend I sometimes have sex with is on holiday, so I searched a little more and found your stuff, and then it all just happened to me, I did not know I was so needy, I already came 3 times and still couldn't stop."
"Did it occur to you, this stuff was none of your business?" my wife wanted to know, with Becky getting even more defensive. "I didn't mean to, I just got so horny…" "Get your face down between my legs" my wife demanded. Becky looked irate, "Do you want to keep your job?" Becky moved towards the bed pushing up my wife's dress and only now realizing, there was nothing underneath, and my wife's pussy was already starting to get wet. "Lick it or do you need another invitation" and Becky started licking. My wife had to admit she was really good at it and after a couple of minutes my wife came into her face. My wife got up, tossed the dress away and demanded "Now massage and lick my boobs" This time Becky instantly obeyed, got to her side and started pleasing my wife's G Cups. My wife meanwhile was a lot less gentle with Becky's Double Ds, slapping her nipples and massaging her rather hard. Becky moaned. "You like that? " my wife exclaimed, let's see about this. She inserted two of her fingers into Becky's pussy without further notice. Becky moaned once again, and my wife started fingerfucking her. "Put the vibrator into my pussy" she advised Becky who one again obeyed. The two of them went on for a couple of minutes before both of them came very hard. After they catched their breath again my wife told Becky: "You keep your job. But next time, you will come dressed as I say. " "Okay said Becky, got her clothes together and left.

I already got a huge boner, when my wife told me this scene , which she of course saw. She got it out of my pants started blowing it and said: "You like me fucking this young bitch?" "I do, I would have loved to watch and join in" I answered while she was getting on her knees. "Fuck my ass" she pleaded, and boy was I down for that. I got behind her, lubed my cock with a few thrusts into her pussy which already sent her moaning, before slowly sliding into her ass. Once in, I started fucking her slowly, while bending forward and also massaging her huge tits with my hands, making sure I got here nipples between my fingers. I wasn't to gentle. I was horny. I was massaging her tits with hard strokes of my hands while fucking her ass with passion and it took us just a few minutes till we both came.

We asked Becky in for the week after, telling her, my wife and me wanted to redo our date from the week before. However our real plans were a little different. My wife told her to wear a black nylon stocking, a maximum knee length black leather skirt and a black leathelatex top. She was not to wear a bra or panties. This was also a test, onto whether she was still willing to go down the route started the week before, or whether to drop this point for the future.
Also we on our side dressed a little more daring this time. My wife wore knee high leather boots together with a long black latex skirt, a black silk blouse and a black underbreast corsage, pushing her already large breasts even further up. With the blouse not fully closed you could almost see her nipples as she too was not wearing a bra or panties. Her dark hair combined with black lipstick and dark mascara, this style made her look like a queen of the night.
I myself went for a skintight black shirt, combined with a skin fit black leather jeans. To avoid accidents with the zipper, however I also wore black boxers below.
Becky ringed at the door on time as always. When I opened the door, I saw, that she had obeyed to my wife's instructions and she was looking hot. I also recognized, that she was looking at me, my outfit and also the developing bulge in my midst longer than necessary and definitely not disgusted but aroused.
I asked her in as always and she went into our entrance hall. My wife came downstairs looked at her and ordered her to lift the skirt. Becky obeyed and it was clear, she followed the instructions not to wear panties. "Okay" my wife told her. Becky's eyes had widened, when she saw my wife in her outfit. "You know the drill with the dogs. We already fed them, so just do the usual walks with them." Becky did not even flinch at the idea of walking through our neighborhood in these clothes. But well, she had been coming to our place on a train dressed like that.
Becky seemed almost disappointed when we left the house, but we wanted to go to dinner to rise our anticipation and we also wanted her hanging on the edge for a little longer. Instead we flirted with our waitress who seemed to be more interested in my upper body than my wife's. In low tone we traded some ideas, how to deal with Becky afterwards. We finally settled on a plan and after a good steak dinner and a bottle of wine, made our way back home. In the garage I took out my phone and checked on our bedroom cam, we sometimes use for "life shows" when one of us is on a business trip.

My wife then told me, she would wink at me, when I should come in, and made her way into the house. After the hello of the dogs had ended I could hear her "You, bedroom, now" in a harsh voice to Becky. It seemed like she obeyed instantly because just a few seconds later she appeared on my phones screen. My wife appeared behind her. "Judging from your dress, I think you want to hold your part of the deal?" "Yes, madame" was Becky's answer. "You know, we can just drop it, you continue as our dog sitter, and we play it like none of this ever happened. I am not mad at you" my wife checked to ensure Becky's consent to all of this. "Madame, this was the hottest night I had in months. I don't mind if we go on like this." "And are you also okay with my husband watching and joining in? He can see and hear you, but he is not recording" "Oh please, I would love that" Becky said. "Well, in that case, get rid of those stockings and lick my boots" my wife ordered and Becky obeyed. She started licking the boots and in that process of course her skirt fell onto her back and I had a perfect camera view of that surprisingly wide chocolate ass. I could hear a sound of surprise from below my wife's skirt, when Becky realized, my wife did not have any panties on.
My wife bent down a little and slapped Becky ass "You like that?" "Yes madame" Becky exclaimed. "Good, now get up and get me out of this blouse." When Becky started to get up my wife pulled Becky's top over her head, revealing her upper body. As she was standing with her back to the camera, I was not able to see her breasts. She wanted to open the corsage when my wife slapped her as again, this time s hard it left a handmark behind. "I told you the blouse, not the corsage." "Sorry madame" was all Becky said and she pulled the blouse out of the corsage, opened the buttons and freed those breasts I cherished so much. My wife turned herself and Becky around by ninety degrees, so I could start examining Becky's breasts as well. They were a lot smaller, but given her much skinnier, taller figure, the overall look of this young woman with enough ass and DDs was almost as arousing as my w's looks to me. "On your knees and lick my tits" my wife now commanded and Becky once more obeyed, only her short skirt just barely covering her ass and pussy. My wife pushed her upper body onto Becky's face, her head almost disappeared in between my wife's big milkers, only her long black hair visible. My wife moaned in anticipation and pulled her face back, pushing it to make her face the camera while still on her knees. "Last chance, If you want my husband to join, tell him now. If not, you can still say no, and nobody will be mad at you." My wife said in a much more soft voice, while still pulling Becky by her hair. "Please come and join us, Mister" Becky said into the camera.

I took that as the wink and turned down the camera, left the car and entered the house. By the time I entered the bedroom, Becky was still on her knees, but my wife's skirt now lay on the floor. Only in boots and the corsage, my wife with a slight bush around here pussy looked extremely hot. Becky was licking my wife's pussy like her life depended on it, and I already saw, that my wife's knees were about to get weak. A couple of seconds later a gasp left my wife's mouth, as she orgasmed and let herself fall backwards onto the bed, her breasts falling to both sides of her chest. What an arousing view. Becky also stared from her viewing point below. I grabbed here below her arms and pushed her onto my wife "Nobody told you to stop" I said with faked anger in my voice and Becks started to lick my wife's pussy again, kneeling in front of our bed. I walked over to our toy collection and grabbed a medium size buttplug and some lube. I made sure to lube it properly, while my wife pulled up Becky and made her lick her boobs once more. "I was told you like your ass stuffed" I said to Becky and her eyes widened when she saw what I had prepared for her. "Get that ass up in the air and pull the cheeks aside. But get rid of that skirt firs" I commanded. Becky obeyed while continuing to suck on my wife's tits. I could feel her body shiver from arousal and anticipation, when the tip of the plug touched her ass. It only took a slight push and in it went. My cock was now pushing against the trousers and my sweat started to get wet from my sweat, but I did not want to spoil anything for my wife. Both women were now on the bed and I placed myself behind Becky, and besides my wife's legs and started to carefully insert my left middle finger into my wife's pussy, searching for just the right point. With my right hand i was much less gentle and pushed two fingers at once into Becky's pussy. Both women gasped. "Nobody told you to stop licking my tits" I heard my wife's voice and Becky's head went down again. I could feel her hands searching for me. "Use them on my wife" I commanded and now Becky was gently massaging my wife's tits while she continued to suck her. I continued to fuck both women with my fingers and my wife started harshly playing with Becky's tits. It did not take long, and my wife exhaled loudly screaming out her second orgasm and only seconds later Becky collapsed over her, her orgasmic screams damped by my wife's breasts, as her head lay in between her.

I grabbed her by her shoulders an pulled her up. "No time to rest, now it's my turn. Get your mouth round my cock asap!" She turned around to me, unzipped my pants and pulled them down. The sudden release of outside pressure felt really good and I stepped out of my pants next my boxers were going down and I heard her gasp, when my 20 cm of thick meat jumped into her face with everything containing it now gone. She grabbed it with one hand and started licking it from below before cautiously taking my tip into her mouth. After a few seconds as she started to release it again I started to get impatient, but my wife had already recovered from her last orgasm and grabbed the back of her head. "You call that a blowjob?" She said and pushed Becky's head onto my cock until it was fully inserted. I felt her gagging but she did not protest. My wife forced her head to fuck my cock and after a few strokes we could see, that Becky now did it on her own, so she let her head free again. She went behind me, got on her knees pressed her tits into my ass, and started massaging my balls while with the other hand forcefully massaging Becky's tits again. That was to much. I gasped and unloaded into Becky's throat without warning. However she was a good girl and swallowed as much of the load as she was able to.

I stepped back from Becky and rested myself and my cock on the bed. But my wife took control again. She got up and went out of sight. After a few seconds I heard a bottle opening and she came back in my view, oiling her huge breasts and making sure I saw all of it. And she did not forget to squeeze a nipple and boy, was that a good show. She then proceeded to go behind Becky, also oiling her young tits. The show of those huge, oiled white tits pressing against Becky's back while my wife oiled her big black tits got me going again quickly. And boy, was I in for a treat. After both woman had their tits properly oiled, my wife positioned Becky to my left and herself to my right and they started to take turns titfucking me while not forgetting to play with each other's asses and pussies. I was rock hard again after just a few minutes. But that was just the beginning of this second round. My wife advised Becky to continue titfucking me, while she went and got herself a buttplug, which she made a show for me and Becky inserting it. All the while I had positioned Becky above me now, in a way I was able to fingerfuck her, while she continued with her titfuck. My wife went again, and came back with one of her vibrators. She positioned herself to our side, so I could watch her starting to fuck herself with it while she had a perfect view onto Becky an me. This continued for a couple of minutes before she stopped, crawled over to us and removed Becky's buttplug, only to replace it with the vibrator.
She fucked Becky's ass with the vibrator while her tits were dangling above my face. I did not need a second invitation. I grabbed one of her tits with my free hand and positioned her nipple onto my mouth, so I was able to lick, suck and gently bite her. Afterwards I grabbed the second one and I started to squeeze the breast with my hand and her nipple between my fingers. My wife moaned with excitement. Becky's titfuck however got more and more sloppy while her moans got louder and louder until she screamed out her orgasm and collapsing on top of me.

My wife did not really give her time to catch her breath. She rolled her down from me and placed her on her back, immediately placing her lap above Becky's face. The good girl knew what to do and started to eat her out. My wife meanwhile cleaned the vibrator with a wet wipe and threw it over to me. I took it, got up and got behind her, pushing the vibrator into her pussy for a couple of strokes. My wife meanwhile slapped Becky's pussy and said sharply: "Put these hands to use and pleasure my tits!" This was followed by a second, harder slap when Becky did not obey right away. After a few strokes with the vibrator, I removed it from my wife's pussy and also removed her buttplug. I replaced the buttplug with the vibrator and started fucking her ass with it, while inserting my cock into her pussy. The three of us quickly found a rhythm which led to Becky not only licking my wife's pussy, but also to bottom of my cock and my balls when I pushed in. My wife could not resist this very long and screamed out her orgasm, collapsing forward her head onto Becky's belly. I also couldn't last any longer, I left the vibrator sticking in my wife's butt and grabbed her hips with both hands and after two or three more strokes I also came.

We arranged us in bed when we heard scratches at the door. The dogs wanted in. Becky was absolutely tired. We let the dogs in and the five of us went to sleep. The next morning we were awoken by the dogs. We quickly dressed and let them out. We set down for breakfast and Becky thanked us for the night. She stayed our go to dogsitter for three years and while not every time, from time to time she also joined us in bed afterwards (and sometimes we invited her for this sole purpose). We also got to know some of her friends and I also got to fuck her. But those are tales for different times.

It’s something I’ve felt for years, but it has crept up more and more recently.
I’m non-binary, but don’t mind being called a woman. My pronouns are she/they. I’ve been through the motions in working out my gender. Thought I was ftm for a while and was on hormones, but after having top surgery I realised I didn’t need to be a man to have that, and settled with non-binary and fell more into myself. I don’t regret anything.
But any time I’m at a pride event, or I meet other queer people, I feel like an outsider? I dont know if I’m falling into my own trap so to say, but I don’t ’look non-binary’ or I don’t present outwardly that I’m gender non conforming or queer. And sometimes I feel because of that, I don’t feel included?
I know there isn’t a ‘look’ to non binary. But there is overall a social bias, such as coloured hair, dressing certain ways, androgyny, etc. I’ve met a couple people who were shocked to find out I was non-binary because ‘I don’t look it’, and these were trans people who said this.
Idk. This likely isn’t making much sense. I think it’s mostly because I don’t see myself represented a lot. For example, I’m trying to gain confidence in wearing bralets and crop tops that show my chest and scars, but I can’t find photos or examples of women or non-binary people who are super feminine with surgery scars in those kind of clothes.
I know it’s such a small thing, but I feel like because I ‘look cis’ that it in a way invalidates me being non-binary? I’ve had conversations with binary trans folk who have had issues in lgbt spaces because they ‘look cis’, and I just wonder why it feels like there is such a pressure to look a certain way in order to be accepted and represented in our own community?