Idea: label manipulation? as in, label morphing and evolving?
Butch gently coaxing her femme girlfriend into butchhood by widening the label of femme until it includes butchness.
"You're plenty femme without makeup"
"Femmes can have short hair"
"You don't have to conform to straight girl ideals of femininity."
All of these sentences are true. She's a little scared of being seen in a masculine light as a woman, so the butch proposes that she repeats these things to herself in the mirror for confidence. As the weeks go by, she inches closer to her true form.
"You don't have to shave to be femme"
"Even buzz cuts can be feminine, cis hets just don't understand that."
"Femmes can work out. Gaining muscle doesn't make you less feminine."
Again, these are all true. And as the weeks go by, you find her letting herself be louder when she talks. She puts off that smart, sophisticated act when you're at home alone with her. She lets herself be more bashful, more aggressive, more sexually expressive. You find that she feels more confident exploring expressions and hobbies that are traditionally seen as masculine as long as she has her femme safety harness on.
"Femmes can use the strap. It's a dumb myth that topping makes you less feminine."
"Femmes can like being called handsome"
"You can still be femme and have a masculine persona in bed."
"Femmes can play around with masculinity, it doesn't mean anything."
All true, all true. But is it true for you?
"Hm?"
Are you a femme?
"Well," she's sitting on a folding chair in the kitchen in her boxer shorts - the only underwear she's known for months now as she's given up on bras. She notices herself in a mirror and mumbles with a syringe in hand, "You can take testosterone and still be femme..." You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head forward expectantly. "...but..." Trailing off, she takes a good hard look into the mirror. Tracing her gruff hands across the facial hair that she was so excited about, down her neck and to her muscular arms, over her handsome breasts, and finally to her thickened waist. She smiles. Bright and wide and full of joy. "I don't think I am!" She leans her head back to laugh, and you take the moment to nuzzle her face into your stomach.
Are you my butch?
"Heheheh... I don't know!" She hides her face against you, allowing you to ruffle her hair.
Who's my silly little butch?
"Meee!" She wraps her arms around you.
Good boy.


















