Houston's Transition
Houston still recalls the day he first took testosterone. He was 14 years old, still living in Chicago, a social outcast in high school and making enemies by simply existing. Dallas', or as he was known then, Nathan's infamous life as a criminal, tearing down mobs and even destroying his own before leaving the city left all eyes on Houston once he was born. Every day, whether it was someone of his family, or someone of another, they'd always bring up Nathan, saying how all the debts and burdens he made now lie on him, which as you can imagine, wasn't good to tell a kid going through puberty. Didn't help that he had undiagnosed autism. But the real problem wasn't the fact that he had to live up to Nathan, deal with his enemies, and have to go through school with all these other issues, but the fact that he literally couldn't do anything about them because he was born a woman.
Assigned female at birth, named Heather Steele, was a 14 year old Houston, barely getting through life, as the whole family expected a man to fill in the roll of Nathan only for the next of kin to be this girl with blonde hair once he straight up left. Yeah, there were some badass female criminals out there, but nobody ever expected "Heather" to do anything, and he was told that, almost all his life, that he couldn't do anything. Whether it was by his family, or by kids at school, people made sure he'd never forget that. His place would always be at the bottom.
Houston doesn't remember much of Nathan from his childhood despite him being a rather large part of the family. This all changed however when Houston turned 12 and Nathan stopped showing up to the house as often, eventually getting to the point where he only did show up to spout some drunken nonsense or because the cops were after him. Either way, they barely even looked at each other and the only time they did ever talk was a rarely peaceful family dinner where Nathan told Houston that if he wants to ever succeed in life, the last thing he should do is "stick with these freaks". That started an argument between the family as Houston watched silently, before Nathan stormed off out the front door. After that, all Houston heard of him was that he did something really, really bad and he's since left Chicago after robbing a bank and leaving with enough money to start off on his own. Since then, the entire family fell apart, leaving just Houston, his mom, and an older sister with a heroin addiction.
Now, Houston stands in a pharmacy in downtown Chicago, staring at a wall of girl's health products, eyeing each one, expecting to see something definitive, saying he should buy it, but only seeing the same white patterns and logos for all of them. Eventually settling on a random one from the shelf, he walked to the counter of the pharmacy and placed the item on the counter. Behind it, an old man, late 40s, yet looking like he was already on his way out. Houston didn't say anything as the man scanned the items and the pay appeared in green digital text in the screen just over the cash register. He didn't say anything, but Houston could tell the man was checking out his body, probably on his face, hair, eyes, and most definitely breasts. Awkwardly lowering his head, uncomfortable, Houston deposited the pay on the counter and left with his pads, quickly walking to the exit.
As he was walking out, through an aisle for men's products, he noticed testosterone on the counter and stopped for a second, observing it. It didn't come in pills, but rather injections. Over the counter, nobody needed a prescription to get it. He could buy it right now, he had enough money, after all.
Suddenly, from behind the counter, the old man spoke, in a dry voice, "Everything alright, miss?"
Houston flinched a bit at the miss part, but he looked back to the man, creepily smiling at him, before quickly leaving the pharmacy, getting out of site of the man. Thinking about what just happened. He wondered why he stopped at those testosterone injections. He heard they can make people more 'manly' so to speak. At first, he considered if he wanted them to make himself the man of his family, like what Nathan was, but that didn't add up, he hated his family and never felt safe around them. To suddenly be the one to care for them wasn't something he wanted. But then why can't he stop thinking about it?
This thought didn't leave him even after he made it to his destination – The middle school playground. Especially on Saturdays, kids of all ages, most prominently high schoolers, liked hanging around there. You'd see drugs being exchanged, smoking, drinking. It was a cesspit, but it was a very good place to blow off some steam, which was way better than Houston's family house. He'd rather sit alone on a swing set than listen to his mother and sister's yelling as he sits in his windowless room.
Taking his place on the rundown swing set, he put the pads next to his feet without much care for them and sat as he watched other kids congregate. He was never one for chatter, so he simply watched what others did. He eyed a group of girls sat by the fence, high schoolers, his grade. He recognized their faces, popular girls. They disliked him a lot, and for no reason. He always wondered what it was. His looks? Was he too quiet? He never knew, but they did constantly call him things like a "slut" or "whore". The insults never really phased him, the words meant nothing in his eyes yet every time he retaliated with the same insults, they'd get unimaginably pissed off. The only time the bullying ever got really bad was in 7th grade when a rumor spread around that he did a lot of the guys on the football team, which people still somehow believe even into freshman year. Despite the guys never admitting it at all and if anything were confused by this accusation, as they found him pretty unattractive. Worst part is, his family eventually heard the rumor, and he now has the reputation of being the family whore, despite still being a virgin.
Houston started looking at more groups, trying to take his mind off of everything, eyeing some boys, some girls, kids older, kids younger. Maybe he'd catch up on homework there, or read one of the many overdue books in his bag, or, what he'd usually do, is just sit and look around for hours on end. Despite Chicago not being the nicest looking city, something about just being away from it all, alone, brought him peace.
Suddenly, his eyes caught the site of one kid, looking just as average as the rest, but for some reason, seeming to stand out to Houston. He was tall, about 6'2", seemed to be around his age, most likely a sophomore or junior. He had noticeable muscles, pretty good-sized ones too. Probably worked out, Houston thought, maybe he took testosterone.
As he was checking him out, he sudden looked to his face and inspected his facial hair too. Although it was only just growing, there was still something intriguing about it, something he envied.
After checking him out for so long, almost everything about the guy Houston somehow envied. His muscles, his hair, his height... It was a weird feeling Houston had, and without thinking, he suddenly muttered to himself, "I wish I was a boy."
His eyes trailed around his face, looking at his strong facial features and soon, the 2 people locked eyes. Nervously, Houston looked away, back to another group, hoping the guy didn't notice him extensively checking him out. Unfortunately, the guy soon started walking in his direction and soon, it became very apparent that he noticed Houston.
"Hey," He greeted, "New here?"
Clearing his throat, Houston nervously replied, "Uh, hi. I'm not new here, at all, in fact. I've lived here all my life."
"Then why am I just noticing a pretty girl like you now?" He flirted.
"I'm- I'm not exactly noticeable."
The boy laughed at Houston's unintentional joke, "I'm Gavin."
"H-Heather," He stuttered, feeling uncomfortable saying his own name.
Gavin sat on a swing next to him, "Heather... That's a beautiful name."
"Thanks." Houston reluctantly said.
A short but slightly awkward silence fell upon them before Gavin spoke again.
"I noticed you were... Checking me out. You interested?"
Houston replied, fidgeting in his seat, "Was just looking."
"You can look again if you want." He smiled, almost in the same way the creepy guy at the pharmacy did.
Hesitating, Houston looked back to Gavin and looked up and down his body.
"How'd you get so fit?"
"Lifting. I can bench press 250! I go to the gym by the nightclub. You can come by if you want, I like to wear tank tops." He winked at him.
Ignoring his offer, Houston asked him, "You take testosterone?"
"Yeah! Shit's magic, dude. I get them at the pharmacy. It's expensive, but between you and me, it's very easy to shoplift the stuff."
Houston's curiosity rose, but before he could ask anything more about the topic he interrupted him.
"But, enough about me, I wanna hear more about you," Gavin leaned towards Houston, "You're too pretty to be so mysterious."
Houston held back the urge to cringe at that sentence. Gavin was trying way too hard to be romantic with him, with many attempts failing more than they succeeded.
"You- You don't wanna know about me."
He scoffed, "Course I do, Heather. C'mon, nobody's given you a chance like this one to open up, right?"
Gavin reached for his hand, and Houston uncomfortably let him grab it. His hands were rough and dry, a sensation he hated, but he felt like he couldn't do anything in that situation and just let it happen for the time being.
His head leaned towards his, and he started breathing heavily and started sweating. All that went through Houston's mind was fear and panic. He wanted to run, he wanted to do anything to stop what was about to happen, but it was inevitable, and Gavin kissed him, even trying to use his tongue in the action.
That was it for him, and he quickly jumped out of his seat and yelled for the entire playground to hear, "GET AWAY FROM ME FREAK!"
He casually got up and quickly grabbed his hand again, "Hey, where ya going? What's the matter?"
Enraged, Houston yelled at him, "Don't fucking do that!"
"Really? You won't accept a kiss from a guy like me? You'd expect something better from the bimbo who fucked the entire football team."
He paused, wanting to punch him now, "You really believe that shit?!"
"Well yeah, only some bimbo bitch like you could react like this to a guy trying to kiss you!" He barked, "Tell ya what, I got 50 bucks in my pocket. We go to a bathroom stall and we can have a proper introduction-"
Houston clenched his fist and charged at him, landing a swing on his face, attracting the attention of the entire playground now that a fight was going down.
Gavin paused for a bit, feeling his now slightly bleeding nose, "Woah. Can't believe some bimbo like you can pack such a punch."
"STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THAT!" Houston swung again, but this time, Gavin dodged the punch, maneuvered around him, and slapped him across the face.
"Don't do that again, bitch!" Gavin yelled, "Know your fucking place!"
That last sentence snapped Houston. Now, he wasn't going to just try and fight this guy, he wanted him dead.
Turning back around, Houston charged at the now walking away Gavin and tackled him to the ground. On top of the much bigger man, Houston started furiously punching him in the face, neck, whatever hurt him the most. The punches hurt Houston's much weaker and less developed knuckles, but it clearly did enough to make Gavin get desperate, and he reached for Houston's neck, wrapping his larger hands around and started choking him out.
Houston's punches weakened and his vision became blurry as Gavin chocked him out. His conscience started slipping away as the other kids, now surrounding their fight, watched helplessly, all of them just wanting to see how this would end. Houston tried desperately to break his grip, but nothing worked until he remembered a very specific weak point nearly every guy had, and smashed his pelvis with his fist.
Gavin recoiled and his grip loosened and he reached for the injured part of his body. Houston, gasping for breath, rolled off him to the side, gaining his breath and conscience back. He thought about the situation he was currently in, and knew that he couldn't just leave Gavin to live another day, healthy and willing to fight Houston again, maybe even bringing some firepower. This was Chicago after all. He looked at a large rock that laid on the ground just a couple inches from his face and had an idea.
He grabbed the rock, rolling over and standing over Gavin as he still held his pelvis, wallowing in pain from the attack. Houston threw the rock right on his head, seeing a large and disgusting bloody bruise appear from the impact. He reached for the rock again and crouched over him, smashing the rock down, over and over again, on Gavin's head as his blood erupted on both their faces and covered the rock. Before he was able to land the final blow, he paused, assessing the newfound situation. Houston felt powerful, the most powerful he's felt in his entire life. Not having to care about acting normal, acting like a quiet girl. He sat over a bleeding man, his face covered in his blood. But, he also noticed who he was in this situation. He was 14, about to kill a fellow kid, as multiple others watched. As powerful as this made him feel, how this made him feel like a real man, Houston just couldn't deliver the finishing blow and threw the rock to the side.
Looking around to the concerned kids surrounding him, all he managed to say was, "Call an ambulance." Before sprinting off back to the pharmacy, leaving the pads he bought for himself by the swings.
All he knew was to run. To find a place where he can calm down and clear his mind, to finally think this over and consider his options.
He finally stopped running when he was deep enough in the city, where he leaned against a glass window and tried to calm himself, slowing his breathing and repeating to himself "Everything's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright. You are not a murderer. Everything's gonna be alright..."
When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the familiar green cross of his local pharmacy sign. He turned around to the window he leaned against and peered inside, spotting the testosterone inside, exactly where he last saw it. Then, he looked at his reflection in the glass, looking at his bloodied face as sweat ran down it, making very few clear streaks on his forehead and cheeks. As he inspected his face more, he started feeling more comfortable with it. The blood hid his more feminine features, and gave the appearance of a much less composed and well adjusted girl. His messy hair added to it too. For a very weird reason, he smiled out of a very small euphoria he hasn't felt about looking at himself before at all.
Remembering the testosterone, he walked to the door and pushed it open, moving towards the product as the man behind the counter read a newspaper, not even noticing that Houston has walked in.
Just before he was about to grab the testosterone, he had a dumb idea that he couldn't help but grin at.
Quickly grabbing about 3 or 4 containers of the product and stuffing it in his jacket pockets, he turned to the old man.
"Hey asshole!" Houston shouted, causing the man to look away from his newspaper in a slight horror upon seeing his bloody face, "Go to hell creep!"
With those words, Houston sprinted out the door as the man shouted for him and tried very poorly to follow him, erupting into a coughing fit before he even made it out the door.
Still sprinting through the Chicago streets he turned around to see the old man stumble out the door and fall on the ground, still coughing. Houston laughed at the creep's pathetic chase and looked at the stuff in his pockets, laughing even harder as the adrenaline rushed through his veins. Shouting "FUCK YEAH!" as he continued running.
Making it back to his family house, he opened the front door in a cold sweat, still high off the adrenaline of the Saturday afternoon. Resting a bit up against the door, he breathed heavily, occasionally laughing from thinking about what he just did. He was in such a wonderful bliss that for a couple seconds, he believed nothing could ruin this, until, he heard his sister's familiar and annoying voice.
"HEATHER!" She shouted, "You were supposed to be home like 30 fucking minutes ago! Where the hell have you- Oh shit!"
She paused as she saw Houston's bloodied face and a slight grin to go with it.
"Did somebody hurt you?" She asked, still eyeing his body up and down.
Houston let out a slight chuckle, "Not my blood..."
"Bullshit!" She replied, a bit less worried.
"Try me." He responded, in a whisper.
Her concern returned, but for a much different reason, "Why are you acting so strange?" She asked before noticing the products in her pocket, "ARE YOU ON DRUGS?!"
"What? No!" He replied, desperately trying to hide the testosterone, "This is nothing! I just bought the pads in bulk-"
She grabbed his jacket and yanked a package out of his pocket, inspecting it, before the concern turned to confusion.
"Testosterone?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"...Yeah." He admitted.
"Why would you have this? What're you, some sort of fa-" She looked back up to his face and she finally realized as he looked back at her, his eyes noticeably twitching.
"Don't freak out-"
"YOU'RE FUCKING TRANS?!"
"Lemme explain! It's more than that-"
"I'M SIBLINGS WITH A FUCKING TRANSGENDER?!"
"PLEASE STOP FUCKING SCREAMING!" He stopped her, and began, much calmer, "Please, just give me back the testosterone."
He reached for the product in her hand and she moved it away from his own, still trying to comprehend the fact that her brother that she's known as a sister for 14 years is now deciding to identify as a boy.
"I'm telling mom," She stated, "And once she finds out... I hope I never have to share a house with you again!"
"Me too, now just give me the fucking thing back!" He tried to grab it from her again but she moved around him and grabbed his jacket, taking the rest of the stuff with her.
"Fuck you, Heather!" She shouted before running off with them and he gave chase.
They ran around in circles amongst the house, with Houston trying desperately to grab the product from her as she was relentlessly keeping it away from him. It went on for so long that once Houston finally tackled her and took the stuff, their mom already returned to the house.
His sister, hearing the car pull up, changed objectives from taking the drugs away from him and now turned into making sure Houston got kicked out of the house. So, she ran to the garage door as Houston went to his room, pulling out a duffel bag, and immediately started packing his things, coming up with a plan to deal with this newfound situation as he went along.
As his mom entered the house, putting the keys on the counter next to the kitchen stove, she was greeted by Houston's sister where she quickly started yelling to their mom about everything she knew and made up about Houston.
"Mom!" She began, "Heather! She's fucking taking testosterone!"
"What?" Her mom replied.
"Yeah! She came home today, blood on her face, I'm pretty sure she killed a guy, and had pockets full of the stuff! She thinks she's a guy!"
"Oh really?" She asked, "Heather killed someone?"
"I mean, she had blood on her face and claimed it wasn't hers."
"Please, Heather wouldn't hurt a fly."
She got angry at that suggestion and began, "Well, she also tried to attack me too! Chasing me around the house like a fucking maniac!"
Her mom scoffed at the idea and the 2 walked to Houston's room while she called out, "Heather! Heather, your sister said you killed someone! Is that true?
With no response, they made it to the room, but they found it empty. Empty of clothes, accessories, and some cosmetics Houston had kept. The only thing that was left in that windowless room was all the stereotypical girly clothes Houston's mom bought for him, including skirts, skinny jeans, and almost everything pink. He never wore it in the first place, but it was a bit heartbreaking for his mom to find all the outfits she thought were 'cute' for him all still hanging in his dusty old closet.
The 2 women turned around and went to the kitchen where they found Houston by the garage door, holding the car keys in his right hand and eating a sandwich in his left. A duffel bag, filled to the brim with all his belongings held firmly on his back.
"Hey, mom." He greeted, not phased by her existence at all.
His mom looked at the blood on his face, and the testosterone he was no longer hiding in his pockets. Her carefree expression soon turned to concern as she realized that his sister was unfortunately right.
"Sweetie?" She began, "What's gotten into you? Why do you have all that... Stuff?"
"Oh," He answered, finishing his sandwich, "I'm leaving."
"What?"
"I figured this house wouldn't exactly accept their youngest daughter being a guy, so I'm leaving."
"Honey, this isn't... This isn't you!"
"WHO FUCKING SAYS?!" Houston blurted, "Do you even know who I am?!"
"I know you're my daughter for God's sake!" She argued, "Put the keys down, and unpack your things, you're going nowhere. Oh, and throw that stupid testosterone away! You're a girl, you don't need it."
He laughed, "I'm not sure you know what I need, mom."
"You're. My. Daughter. Heather Steele, a female. I know what's best for you, sweetie. Now unpack and throw away that shit!" She said, getting in his face, attempting to be intimidating. But Houston was unphased by her. She no longer seemed a threat after the events that went down today, no longer the person who controlled her life. She seemed so powerless to him now, even though she controlled his entire life for 14 years.
"When Nathan left, the last words he ever said to me were, 'You'll never get anywhere if you stick with these freaks'," Houston whispered, "I'm taking his advice."
As he was turning to leave for the door, she shouted, "Oh, so now you care about being Nate!"
That stopped him, and he turned around, eyes narrowed.
"You could've decided to be a guy at any other time but nooooo! You decide to become a man now and try ever so hard to be like he was! You really think you could run this house?!"
Houston clenched his fists, "He left because he realized just how much of a waste of time it was with you guys. I agree with that idea. I don't think I can run this house, because frankly, I don't give a shit about you or that heroin addict I call a sister."
The 2 stared each other down, waiting for one of them to make a move, to do something.
"By the way," Houston opened the door and stepped out into the garage, "The money under the sink," He slapped the duffel bag, "Good luck motherfuckers."
Walking to the car, he unlocked it and started the thing as his mom watched him, before realizing.
"Oh no you didn't, you little shit..." She rushed to the sink and threw the porcelain sink out of the way, looking for the money stash of half a million she had hidden, only to find nothing, "No... No, no, no, NO!"
She ran to the door again and looked as Houston drove down the road and away.
"GODDAMMIT YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU'RE DEAD TO ME! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD MISSY!" She howled as Houston drove away, a large grin on his face as he saw his mother and sister freak out about their lost fortune.
Where he was going, he didn't know. It was the journey that mattered to him anyways. Him leaving Chicago and robbing his family of half a million would definitely put some unwanted targets on his head, but he didn't care, for he was completely prepared to face whatever was coming.
Houston spent 14 years in that house, suffering as a woman under the name of Heather Steele, but today, he finally left it, now a new man, ready to go against the world or die trying.
