Y'know I'm still working on my drawings still but I really want to get into this dragon hrt trend properly so uh...
I'm gonna write a Cryptid-HRT fic!
Read it here!
I'm gonna pour myself into this and I'm so excited already. Will post it once I feel it's in a readable state!
See y'all later~
Till then enjoy the first paragraph, feel free to give me any constructive criticism in my asks.
“For years, salmon have stood at a crossroads for biologists. Both fascinating them and baffling them for its extreme transformative properties. Able to undergo a metamorphosis much like a caterpillar, the salmon look so alien afterwards. By further analyzing the genome, science has been able to make a huge leap forward for queer folk. Normally, hormone replacement has limitations, besides only being able to build upon what's already there and not reverse anything already established, everyone has limiting factors. Your hair only grows so long, or bust so big.”
“For years, salmon have stood at a crossroads for biologists. Both fascinating them and baffling them for its extreme transformative properties. Able to undergo a metamorphosis much like a caterpillar, the salmon look so alien afterwards. By further analyzing the genome, science has been able to make a huge leap forward for queer folk. Normally, hormone replacement has limitations, besides only being able to build upon what's already there and not reverse anything already established, everyone has limiting factors. Your hair only grows so long, or bust so big.”
“The secret is the serotonin within the salmon, the metamorphosis leaves them high in the chemical, so by using a similar shaped compound we can achieve similar results.” Dr Aceilia spoke with enthusiasm, her presence on stage drew the sparsely filled auditorium’s like a magnet. Wielding a laser pointer and slideshow remote like daggers, they were tools not for cutting through flesh, but ignorance. “Here we see the similar structure between the two primary sexual hormones, testosterone and estrogen. Serotonin has a remarkably similar shape, with a few modifications…” She clicks the remote with growing enthusiasm, gesturing towards the pull down screen of the auditorium spinning to watch with the audience.
The projector shows an animation of the chemical compound being reshaped to mirror the primary sexual hormones, then overlapping the three. Dr Aceilia spins to meet the confused looks of the audience, she's quick to explain its implications. “This is the key to the next step of queer affirming care. With this compound were dubbing Sero-mones we may have answered the previously unanswered questions left by standard hrt!” Her rising inflections sparked murmurs among the auditorium. Like a conductor she waved the conversation down to nothing.
The next slide shows a few recognizable terms, FFS, Blockers, Laser Hair Removal, and SRS, all circled and linked to central bubble labeled “HRT”
“As currently stands we have a few options for affirming care. We start from Hormone replacement and may or may not need blockers. Depending on circumstances some may not want or need Laser, FFS, or even SRS.” With a click she turns to the next slide, almost the same but with the H marked over with an S making the central bubble SRT. “If we however start from Sera-mones instead we eliminate the need for all other care.” Click, the bubble labeled “blockers” is marked over with “SRT”
“We don't need blockers as the body will use Sera-mones long before estrogen or testosterone!” Click.
“No more laser removal or waxing, Sera-mones bypass the build-not-break principle allowing for previously unprecedented results!” Click.
“FFS similarly is not necessary, as Sera-mones can restructure bones, even going so far as to lose or gain inches in height and broadness in shoulders!” With a click the last bubble is crossed off to the crowd’s stunned silence.
“Oh yes… Sera-mones make Sexual Reassignment a thing of the past!” Immediately the whispers started, and grew louder. The Doctor gestured towards a microphone she had set up in the center aisle. Slowly the few attendees moved to form a line, and one by one, asked their questions.
“How do these serums replace both testosterone and estrogen; are there different formulas for transmen and transwomen?” The question was honest, one placed on good faith, if maybe slightly misunderstanding some things.
“Well our Sera-mone formula is currently only in oral form so it will be a little while before we start exploring the efficacy of topical and subdermal applications” Dr. Aceilia spoke with a clear enthusiasm, using the opportunity to share as much of her discovery as possible.
“However, in regards to that, the use of serotonin as a base has many fascinating effects, namely it encourages physiology to take on that which would produce the most serotonin for the individual!” Her rising cadence is quickly morphed back into one more clinical. With a click she moves to the next slide
“Sera-mones act as a stand in, once in the body the surroundings cause it to take shape more akin to the base hormones.” a smile creeps across her face as she explains, “we do not understand the mechanics completely, but the theory is something inherent in the brain. Scans show a Transwomen has brain chemistry much more akin to a cisfemale then a cismale, hence it becomes a stand in for estrogen. There's even potential for it to replace any form of hormone therapy!” She turns from the screen to see the attendant satisfied with the answer.
“How does Sera-mones replace SRS; and what about trans people that don’t have bottom dysphoria and don’t plan to or don’t want to get SRS?”
“EXACTLY! How?” Her eyes lit, “Now again we don’t understand all the mechanics of it yet, but it appears to act with one goal in mind. That is producing more serotonin in the brain. This triggers a runaway effect where a dose of sera-mones leads to a rush of euphoria, thus leading to the production of more serotonin which reacts with leftover sera-mones to produce more of the catalyzing hormone.” The person at the mic lit up and the doctor followed suit.
“Yes! This means that sera-mones are, in theory, a one time dose. No more patches, needles or prescriptions. You can quite literally make your own estrogen or testosterone.” In between questions most of the line had filed off as the doctor spoke, having their questions answered in the crossfire, but one person remained.
She stood, or rather slouched over the mic, wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a hoodie with enough holes in each to prove their trice times handed down status. Her long brown hair was a mess, curls and knots were hard to distinguish and the bags under her eyes were as heavy as her breaths. She looked like she just rolled out of bed but still had to rush to be here.
“What are the side effects?”
She hesitates for a moment before answering, “beg pardon?”
And cut, there's chapter one. Mainly exposition and set dressing but there's a method to my madness, a process.
She looks at the doctor, a clear suspicion in her tone, “What are the side effects?” murmurs erupt as the makeshift convention begins to bicker. Quick to cut in, Dr Aceilia clears her throat and asks in response, “How do you mean?”
“You claim this to be some sort of miracle drug, capable of so much. Have there been any human clinical trials?” Her tone was one of annoyance at the perceived obviousness of her questions.
Aceilia cocks an eyebrow, “Not on any substantial level, not yet. Just a few case studies. Part of this talk's purpose is to see if anyone here would be interested in being a part of said trials.”
She scoffs, “How am I supposed to put my trust in that?” years of distrust begin boiling to the surface, “How can you stand up here and claim to have to fix all, after all the hoops I’ve had to jump through.” The tears were beginning to well. Aceilia was taken aback, she hadn’t expected to hit such a raw nerve.
“I think I may know how you feel,” she started slowly, “Believe me I’m more than familiar with the hoops we are required to jump through.” her own voice began to waver, “But please believe me when I say I do not plan to gate keep.” She clicked a button on the remote and the house lights went up. “I will be honest, there was Dr. Avie, my colleague. She’s one case we’re still trying to understand.”
“I’m sorry?” she flinched, partially because of the light, mostly aforementioned colleague, “What happened with Dr. Avie?”
“We honestly don’t quite know, at first things were as expected then her changes became more… abstract.” She shook her head, “We’re not even sure we could consider it a side effect, before we lost contact she wrote us a paper detailing how the sera-mones knew her better then herself.” tears began to well, “she said she was happy, happier than she’s ever been and I want to believe her, but I need to know for sure.”
The doctor wiped her face dry. “That’s why I brought you all here today, I would like to run trials in an attempt to understand the effects of this more thoroughly. If this can be a breakthrough for our community, then perhaps it's alright I lost a friend.” Her demeanor had all but dropped, whatever collected facade long since made way to an abject honesty. “If you would like to be a part of these trials please, collect a sheet on your way out, fill it in and send it back. We’ll send a journal for you to record your transition, and a dose of sera-mones of course.” She turned and left the stage, gesturing weakly at the table by the exit.
As the small group left, and a smaller group still collected papers from the table, the girl that asked the last question was left in the auditorium. She had been staring at the area where the doctor once stood, still processing all the information she had been given. Was she serious with the potential? Could this be the advancement in gender affirming care she claimed? What happened to Dr. Avie, and why did it not seem to worry her as much as she felt it should? All the questions and more began to roll in her head as she picked up the sheet and began to fill it in.
She sits in her dorm room, her roomie was absent as usual, the only sight of them is the bed and pile of envelopes they send to cover their rent. Zoe couldn’t complain honestly, it was a pretty good deal. She never really got along with anyone she roomed with, much perfuring to have an area to herself. She sat on her bed, curled over a clipboard and frantically scrawled in answers.
“Address… occupation…” she mumbled mindlessly as her eyes meandered around the page. She jumped from question to question answering some, avoiding others. As she did her mind wandered, “worst case scenario, this is all some placebo and I’ll just have to go back to estrogen.” She sighed and she scribbled her signature, “best case scenario, maybe I won’t feel any more dysphoria.” Her mind went over Dr Aceilia’s talk briefly, “maybe this really could revolutionize trans care, but still.” her chest tightened as she finished her thought, “What did Avie mean by ‘knowing her better then she did.’” As this idea reached its apex, her eyes trained on the final question. One she had been bouncing off of repeatedly. Almost instinctively she reads it aloud, “How would you describe your own gender identity?”
Her face scrunched, she stood and paced the room, only lit by the string of fairy lights strung along the top of the walls. Her mind raced, she had come out as trans to her parents before highschool and they weren’t that supportive. Zoe was adamant this was what she wanted and it took some convincing before her parents relented. Now however, she had the downtime to give it more thought, and she wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. She hated the idea of any kind of masculine presentation, and while she was certainly more comfortable with femme presenting, recent events had made her think. She pulled a large sweatshirt and pajama pants on, grabbed a package of instant noodles and headed off to the shared kitchen, head still swirling.
Zoe wanted to feel gorgeous, powerful, and while it's a struggle to have the former recognized, the latter has been obfuscated in tandem. She took incredible care in her figure but not in the way many others did. The idea of having to rely on others made her slightly ill, so she did a lot to be able to care for herself. She worked Mondays and weekends, practically to the bone when put in conjunction with college. As she placed her noodles in the microwave and pressed start, Zoe remembered an instant at work. She was carrying something and it wasn’t really that heavy, but the sloshing liquid inside along with the few points from which she could grab on to, it was awkward. She breathed and focused, sometimes she wished she had a few more limbs, so often left with her hands full. One of her coworkers offered to help and she was happy to accept. As he walked away he mentioned “if you need me to carry anything else heavy for you let me know”, she cringed.
It was a classic case of eww-phoria, while it was validating in a way, she felt demeaned. Zoe didn’t want to say anything at the moment but it did hurt, come to think of it why didn’t she? She collected her food and marched off back to her dorm, currently neck deep in her own head. Then, all at once she's snapped out by the sound of a door clicking open, her door clicking open.
Her head darted up from its sullen position, and was met with Justin. He was nice but couldn’t take hints. He had been slinking up to Zoe every day for the past week, both in the dorms and the halls. She had always given him short curt responses, he took this as a hard outer shell he had to crack. She took this as an insult. Today was not a good day for his latest courting attempt but when it came to reading rooms, Justin was illiterate.
“Hayyy!” He slunk against her door frame like a february snowman, the dark black scruff on his chin looking like the dirt in his snow white face. “Gotch yerself some noods?” somehow he asked the question like it wasn’t obvious.
“Yes, I made myself raman,” she began to fiddle with the noodles, keeping them from setting, “I was filling out some paperwork-” She was cut off.
“Yea y’know, its realy good wit some fried egg. oh and dont for the pork.” He went on and on. Zoe stood there, the warmth of the cup radiating into her hand, the warmth of her rage steadily radiating into the air. She let out a breath as she fiddled with the noodles watching the steam slowly fade as the barricade in front of her did not. She blinked and smiled a strained smile, one that clearly said, ‘gods I’d rather be anywhere else’ hoping he’d pick up on her hint. “Mmm, Hmmm.” she hummed almost instinctually.
“oh that reminds me of this one anime where this guy teaches this girl how too…” the words fade into her ears. He’s going on it again, she thought, he’s doing that thing where he mentions how this reminds him of some anime, she stifled a chuckle as she felt him reach the end of his dialogue tree. Now he offers to watch it with me.
“Maybe we should watch it sometime.” Yea maybe. That was what she always said when he would do this, then they discussed some time, and she plans to be out of the dorm that weekend. “...i was thinkin maybe we could watch it together sometime, im free this weekend if you are, I know your realy busy.” Zoe prepared herself to perform her part of the worst dance ever, but as she fiddled her noodles she realized they have congealed into a block, despite her efforts the meager excuse for a meal she held had been rendered inedible. She stares into the brick, peering into the folds as if they were ones in her own head.
“Heyya earth to Zoe,” he snapped his fingers to grab her attention and something snapped. In an instant she dropped the waste in her hands and grabbed the waste in front of her, “woah! commin on a little strong ay?” He chuckled. She tightened her grip around his wrists. “Quite.” the words dripped out with a venom that shocked them both. Justin flinched as she twisted his arm, forcing him to the ground, “heyheyheyy!! Yacoulda jus said no!”
“I did that last month. Then I told you I had to study. Then I told you I had already seen it, and here you are, still.” her grip tightened with the last word.
“Hey look, your pretty strong for a girl.” he squeezed it out in a half flirty tone. A fire lit in her eyes, of all the moments to hit on someone, he chose now? With another grip she felt a slight crack as his wrist popped causing a girlish scream to erupt from him. She stopped and her grip lightened slightly, “Is that supposed to hurt me? All you’ve got are some barbed words.” She pulled him up from his knelt position, “You couldn’t if you tried.”
She let go and felt him scramble away, only looking back to make certain she wasn’t pursuing her. Zoe stood in the hallway, hands aloft. They slowly return to her sides as she moves to kick the cup noodle to one side and closes her door with a click. She waltz over to the questionnaire and picks up the pen and fills in the last blank,
“How would you describe your own gender identity?”
“N/A”
Hey, psst, down here.
This is the last part that's only exposition!
Next Chapter, Zoe starts her hrt, I am so excited!
Today I startled 2 coworkers, 2 strangers, had a tiny dog deem me a threat on the outset and bark non stop, and the amount of eyes I felt glance off me.
