Winona’s leg bounced restlessly in the gaudy waiting room. It was the kind of quiet that makes your ears ring, and she couldn’t stand it. Her lanky figure was slumped over her phone, yearning for any distraction to take away the disquietude. She found salvation in a notification.

[3:48 PM] Jessica: How’s it going babe? <3

Winona could have yelped in victory. There was one thing that could always bring her back down to earth, and her name was Jessica.

[3:49 PM] Winona: hiiiiiii

[3:49 PM] Winona: it’s going great

A chill ran up Winona’s spine. Her stomach turned when she remembered she was going to be talking about herself for an hour.

[3:49 PM] Winona: not actually idk why i said that. I’m nervous as shit

Winona locked her phone and squeezed her eyes shut. Three years together and she still got nervous messaging the girl of her dreams. Eventually the need for stimulation beat the anxiety out, and she let the phone scan her face to open back up.

[3:51 PM] Jessica: It’ll be ok!! She’s trans too, you know. She’s gonna get whatever you’re going through.

Winona let herself flap a little bit, overwhelmed by the love she felt toward Jessica. She had stood by Winona through her transition, and was always the first to support her, despite being cis herself. Winona collected herself and looked around to make sure no one saw her outburst of joy. The waiting room was empty, even the dark mahogany receptionist’s desk, tucked in a comfortable looking alcove a step above the rest of the room. 

[3:52 PM] Winona: yeah but like

[3:53 PM] Winona: no one gets me like you… ever

[3:55 PM] Jessica: Just try. I love you so much.

[3:56 PM] Winona: love u too

Winona forced a smile. She couldn’t wait to be home.

Just then, the black and gold-trimmed door in front of her burst open. Winona’s eyes snapped up to see a short girl shuffling out of the office. Winona struggled to read her expression before nervously averting her gaze. She looked… serene? That couldn’t be it. 

Winona’s eyes refocused and she noticed she was staring at black slacks. Her gaze traveled up, and up, and up to see smile lines tucked perfectly into a strong, angular jaw. The towering woman before Winona wore a white button-up with a black blazer draped over her shoulders. It struck Winona just how rarely she’d ever seen older trans women, especially ones clad in professional wear.

It took Winona aback to see someone like her, someone who… made it. She hoped one day she could appear as put-together as the woman in the doorway. Thin glasses obscuring steely eyes rested on the woman’s face. Winona could’ve squeaked when she realized that she was being studied. She suddenly felt very naked in her well-worn comfort hoodie and jeans compared to the elegant woman.

After a beat, accompanied by the jingle of the bell atop the door as the short girl exited the tense room, a voice. 

“You must be Winona, my 4 o’clock.” The husky voice suggested decades of training against thick vocal folds. Winona fidgeted with her hands and tried to silently clear her throat before replying.

“Y-yes!” Winona’s voice cracked, trying to conceal her utter lack of voice training. “You must be Dr. Park! It’s so nice to meet you.” Winona’s heart was beating in her ears. Even the most basic of interactions had been getting to her lately.

“Oh please,” Dr. Park waved her hand dismissively. “I like to take a more personal approach with patients. Just Evelyn will do, for now.” Winona nodded 3 times, then worried that was too many. 

“People like us,” Evelyn continued, “usually don’t place so much weight on last names from family, anyway.” Evelyn winked, and motioned for the girl to follow her into the office.

In contrast to the waiting room, the office itself felt very modest. A plush couch sat across from a tall accent chair. The walls were adorned with inoffensive art, and numerous degrees and certificates. Evelyn caught Winona staring a bit. 

“Doctor of both Psychology and Psychiatry, but that’s neither here nor there. I’ve found that a therapist’s efficacy is more about forming connections,” Evelyn recited, pausing for effect, “than what any piece of paper could tell you.” She motioned for Winona to have a seat on the couch, which she slinked over to and settled down in, almost letting out a yelp at how much she sank in. Winona had always felt big, but in the small room she felt absolutely dwarfed by Evelyn’s stature, which was bolstered even further by stiletto heels. Winona found the idea of a woman who had to be at least 6’3” flat-footed wearing heels to be amusing, but suppressed her smile. Evelyn headed to the chair opposing where Winona sat. 

Even seated, the height difference between the tall girl and the even taller woman made Winona feel uneasy. What Winona wore as lank, Evelyn carried as slender.

“I’m not used to not being the tallest in the room,” Winona said, letting out a nervous chuckle, “err, I mean, sorry I-”.

“You’re fine. You must not hang out with a lot of,” Evelyn clicked her tongue and tilted her head, pretending to consider her words, “women of our persuasion, then.”

“Not many, no.” Winona choked out, still thrown off.

Another click of the tongue from Evelyn. “I recommend you change that,” Evelyn said flatly. Winona thought she caught a glimpse of a scowl, but the crow’s feet on the older woman’s face relaxed as she prepared to speak.

“Let’s begin then, shall we?” The therapist asked, and without waiting for a response, she reached into her pocket. A soft, warm chime sounded. The lingering tone reminded Winona of a mallet striking a singing bowl. Winona glanced around, searching for the source.

“That chime,” Evelyn started, pulling Winona’s attention right back to see her wry smile, “will mark the beginning of each of our sessions. Hopefully, with time, you’ll grow to associate it with feelings of openness and clarity. That’s the theory, anyway.” 

Winona nodded. She couldn’t really imagine how such a thing would be helpfully therapeutic compared to, say, the actual talking part of therapy. But, she wasn’t the expert. Winona, uncomfortable as she was, was willing to allow the doctor to guide her.

“So, Winona,” Evelyn began, peering down at her notebook and uncapping her pen, “let’s do basics.”

The two women covered the gamut of onboarding questions, and Winona could already feel herself getting fatigued. She hadn’t even gotten to the hard part, and she was already tired of talking about herself. Family? No. Mental health? Autism, anxiety, executive dysfunction. Years on hormones? Two.

It was hard for Winona to see Evelyn’s eyes, the glare on the older woman’s glasses creating a wall of opaque light. She could hear and see the doctor was scribbling notes constantly, though. 

Without looking up, Evelyn continued her questioning. “Any drug use outside of the prescriptions you’ve listed?”

“Uh, I… weed?” The meek girl stammered out.

“No psychedelics? Depressants?”

“Never.”

“Hm.” Evelyn hummed as she continued her writing.

Following the barrage of mundane questions, Winona peered up at the clock. Only 20 minutes had passed in what felt like eons. It took everything she had to not groan.

“Alright, now let’s really get into it.” Evelyn shot, “I know a little bit about the situation from when you were scheduling, but can you describe what made you seek out treatment?”

Winona looked down, as if hiding in her own hair. “So, uh, I pretty much freaked out at work. Every day I went to my cubicle, every time I would go to a meeting, I’d just shut down. It feels like there’s so much clutter in my brain constantly. Clutter that shifts and obscures and suffocates. I’m terrified of being buried under it. Eventually, the higher ups had enough of me shutting down. I missed one deadline, and that was that…” Winona’s rambling trailed off as she bashfully rubbed her arm.

Evelyn nodded, continuing her writing. “It can be like that for people like us. Like someone is waiting for us to be at our most vulnerable to pounce. Or in this case, fire.” Her pursed lips communicated empathy to Winona. Evelyn continued, “I’m sure this is how you found me in the first place, but I’m transgender as well. I’ve navigated the workplace in your shoes for a long time, up until I’ve opened my private practice.” Evelyn gestured to the room they were in. 

“We can talk plenty more about work later.” Satisfied, Evelyn shot another question, “Your home life, how is that?”

“It’s great, honestly! I live in an apartment with my girlfriend Jessica-,” Winona started, stirred by the opportunity to talk about her love. 

“Jessica, hmm?” Evelyn prodded. 

“Yeah! She’s really supportive of me, we started dating before I started…” Winona vaguely motioned to her body, “you know, this.” 

Evelyn offered a polite smile. “I take your meaning.”

“She’s honestly great. I get very set in my routines, but it’s great to kind of have a wildcard to help me experience new things.”

Evelyn perked up, pen scribbling furiously. Her grin faded. “So routine is important to you, then?”

Winona shivers. “Oftentimes, more than anything. It’s my way of feeling like I have control, like I can overcome that executive dysfunction.” Her voice trailed off, then re-emerged after a cough. “Do you have any water?”

Evelyn nodded once, then pointed with her eyes to the door Winona came in through. “The waiting room has cups and a watercooler.” Evelyn paused, seemingly in thought, “In fact, let’s make this part of your routine to make this therapy a little more comfortable for you. Each Thursday, when you come in here, grab some water on your way in. Plus,” she lingered, “hydration is pretty important on spiro.”

It wasn’t long before therapy became just another part of each of Winona’s weeks. Evelyn had done a great job helping Winona establish a steady rhythm. Water, chime, therapy. Water, chime, therapy. Every Thursday. They talked at length about Winona’s previous job and the conditions that had led to the breakdown.

“Let’s try metaphor,” Evelyn prompted after a few sessions. “Imagine your mind as a house. Close your eyes, what do you see?” Over time, it had become easy for Winona to follow her therapist’s instructions. Immediately, her mind slipped into the house she spent most of her life in - her parents house. She hadn’t been there in years, but it was as familiar as ever. The wood paneling, the oversized, comfortable furniture, the shitty mounted heads from her father’s hunting “expeditions”. Equal parts gaudy and home.

“I see the house where I grew up,” Winona said in a small voice, leaned back with her eyes shut.

“Uh-huh,” Evelyn responded, pen scribbling furiously, “and what does it feel like when you’re stressed?” Evelyn clicked her tongue. “What if I said that you’ll never be cured? That you’ll never be able to have a normal job again?”

“Fire,” Winona stated without hesitation, relaxed mind not even giving pause at her therapist’s strange examples. “It has always felt like my brain is on fire when I get anxious, or when I have my attacks. Right now it looks like a roaring blaze inside the house.”

“You’re getting it, having a mental model can help you contextualize and give form to those feelings.” Evelyn explained, “Now we know our goal is to douse that flame.” When Winona opened her eyes, she could’ve sworn she saw more behind Evelyn’s polite smile.

Evelyn Park sat in her office, lights dim for closing. She was brushing up on her notes for her usual Thursday 4 o’clock: Winona Fitzpatrick. Sweet Winona, who could hardly make eye contact with her. The therapist kept clicking her pen while surveying the pages. Her eyes crash-landed on one word. Jessica. Evelyn shut the notebook. 

Her long, sturdy nail on her index finger tapped on the vial a patient had given her, with a nearly clear liquid inside. Before leaving her own waiting room to head home, Evelyn eyed the water cooler. She frowned at the empty receptionist desk.

Winona’s left ear was ringing. That was the first sensation she felt. Her bleary eyes started to focus a bit, and she saw she was in her therapist’s office. The tinnitus started to fade and it was as if Winona could feel Evelyn’s deep timbre vibrating her eardrums.

She was almost groggy, like having just woken up from a nap. Instead of the instinct to stretch, she felt like she already knew what she was saying. 

“I’ve been looking for new remote jobs, but Jessica has been suggesting that I go back to work. Like, for real.” Winona heard herself say, “It’s hard to find something but it’s terrifying to face the idea of going back to the office.”

That’s right, Winona had just been talking about working through interpersonal conflict with Evelyn. Winona felt like she was in a dream. She eyed the clock, 4:30 PM. Had she really already been here for a half hour? The sessions seemed to have flown by recently. She nearly felt herself snap to attention at her therapist’s voice.

“Does she work? What does she do?” Evelyn prodded.

“She’s a dogwalker. She works about 15 hours a week. It helps a little with the bills.” Winona felt like she was saying way more than she meant to. She chalked it up to the therapeutic environment helping her be open. It felt like the conversation was automatic.

“And she’s expecting you to be the primary breadwinner here? Does 40 hours in a cubicle seem fair compared to 15 hours with dogs?” Evelyn leaned in close to her patient. She searched the girl’s pupils. Winona was slower than usual to break eye contact.

“N-no. Not really,” Winona replied in a haze.

“It seems like she’s expecting you to take on a man’s role. Being the main earner for the family. Does it ever feel like she hasn’t let go of who you were before?”

“I don’t, she doesn’t-”

“I’m so sorry you’re going through that,” Evelyn kept the pressure on, “This happens all the time with people like us. A cis woman says she supports you, but still sees you as a man. We know the truth though; as a trans woman, I can understand you in ways someone like her never can.”

Winona’s throat was dry. Something felt very wrong. Her skin was crawling and it felt like the floor was moving. She must’ve been dehydrated. Her eyes darted toward the cup of water in front of her, still half-full. The girl reached for it and all but chugged the remainder. It was hard to think, but her mind wasn’t racing like it usually was. For once, it was quiet. 

Her brain latched onto that quiet, and the rest of the appointment was a blur.

In the weeks that followed, Winona was getting splitting migraines at home, which she initially chalked up to their shitty apartment lighting. 

“Do you want me to get something for your headache?” Jessica, ever doting, asked from the doorway.

“No. I just want to be alone.” Winona replied from the dark of their bedroom.

“Y’know, it may help to get out of the house more.” Her girlfriend suggested, though Winona knew what the implication behind that suggestion was.

Winona’s head throbbed. It felt like the back of her eyes were on fire. It only got more intense when Jessica wouldn’t leave her alone. Winona rolled over in bed to face the wall.

“-she makes me play the dominant role in sex all the time.” Winona heard herself saying. Back at therapy, it finally felt like she could relax. She didn’t know how long she’d been there or what Evelyn had been discussing with her, but Winona was grateful to be back.

“That’s such a shame. A cute thing like you shouldn’t be expected to be in control.” Evelyn cooed.

When did she get so close? Winona groggily thought, noticing that the therapist was on the couch next to her, leaving her usual chair empty. 

“And, of course, once again that girlfriend of yours is putting you in the male role. How are you supposed to explore being a woman in such a… stifling environment?” Evelyn, even seated, towered over her prey. “Maybe you need to move on?”

The suggestion seemed to knock something loose in Winona. Her eyes started to flutter as she tried to blink back to full lucidity. Winona felt the embers of the fire in her mind start to gather heat, and nearly recoiled at the sensation.

Evelyn took notice of her patient’s furrowed brow. “You look a little light-headed dear. Drink some water.”

Winona was surprised by how quickly she was able to grab the cup, because her thoughts felt like they were drowning in tar. As she started to gulp the water down, she felt her womanhood stirring underneath her skirt at Evelyn’s direct and stern order.

Winona felt the flame in her mind extinguish once again, and relaxed.

“Hey hun, you gotta start taking quicker showers.” Jessica advised.

Winona felt unpleasant, scorching pain radiating from her temples.

“Sorry, I just, uh, zoned out.” Winona told the truth. She could barely remember washing her hair.

“Yeah we can’t afford to do that right now, remember?” Jessica handed Winona a towel.

It wasn’t the heat of the humid bathroom that was causing the searing feeling in Winona’s head.

“Okay. Yeah, I know. Maybe I needed to stay in there to avoid being reminded by you about me needing to find work.” Winona snapped.

“What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything about that.” Her girlfriend tried to defend herself. Jessica had no idea where this irritability came from.

“Yeah but I knew what you meant.”

“Well, even still, you should try to get a job.”

“I’m already trying! You’re being so fucking… stifling. You’re never gonna understand what it’s like for me.” Winona erupted.

Jessica stormed out of the bathroom, and Winona slept on the couch that night.

Evelyn tapped her pen against her clipboard. It was almost four, and she was waiting to see her latest project again. She had just upped the dose in the water cooler, and was eager to see the effects on a girl already so fragile.

The younger girl arrived just in time. Even with the blur Winona had been feeling, she still stuck to their routine to a T. Evelyn had a moment of perverse pride, watching her patient grab a cup of water and sit down, just as she had every Thursday.

Evelyn scanned Winona. The girl was clearly agitated, and she was avoiding eye contact even more than usual. Evelyn had to stop herself from biting her lip when she saw Winona take a hearty gulp of the drugged water.

“Ready to start, dear?” Evelyn asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, and instead sounded the chime that had marked the beginning of their sessions together. Evelyn watched with subdued glee as her patient’s eyes lost their shine. The months of poison, poured in both ear and throat, were paying off. 

Evelyn led Winona through guided meditation. The therapist knew Winona hardly needed more priming, but she took joy in being able to slowly pry the walls someone like Winona erected apart. She knew what this girl really wanted. She would quench Winona’s flames. The patient started to slump back into the couch, eyes fluttering.

Winona was completely defenseless. These moments with her special patients were what kept Evelyn alive. It was the closest she could feel to playing god, sculpting her subject’s thoughts and behaviors, both conscious and unconscious, into a greater form. In Evelyn’s image. The girl was a willing sponge for any of Evelyn’s designs. She dug her claws in.

“What are you upset about, dear?” Evelyn asked.

The body that once held Winona and her anxieties spoke, monotone and relaxed. “I think things are going bad with Jessica.”

“You poor thing.” Evelyn cooed, savoring every moment of being able to inject herself into the girl’s subconscious. “It seems like she causes you more stress than she’s worth. It seems like she’s the throughline for all your problems.”

Winona’s lack of response was taken as an invitation to push harder.

“You deserve someone who makes you feel good, right? Someone who can take away your anxieties. You mentioned that your brain often felt like it was ablaze when you were having your attacks. Do you feel that around Jessica?”

“Yes.” 

Evelyn felt a rush of her own. Her subject was much further along than she had planned. The signs that she was already changing her feelings towards that girlfriend was a sign to plunge the knife further.

“That feeling, that inferno in your head, it’s only going to get louder around her from now on, understand? She can’t fix it the same way I do.” The woman’s eyes burned with conviction. “Agree with me.”

The direct command almost startled Winona, until she felt her therapist’s words seep into her own thoughts, her own convictions. She wanted to agree now.

“Yes.” The broken vessel responded.

“You don’t want to be dominant anymore, do you?”

“No.” Winona mumbled.

“You want to listen to me. You want to make me happy. You’d do anything for my praise, right?”

“Y-yes.” The slumped body responded, soaking in the new purpose. Winona was so empty that even her usual fidgeting had ceased.

“Good girl! You’re such a quick learner. My smart little patient.”

Evelyn saw Winona’s cheeks fill with crimson. She had softened this girl up for months, and it was all paying off. Evelyn almost felt guilty about how easy it was. It was as if this girl was looking for someone to take the reins, and certainly her little “girlfriend” wasn’t up to the task. It’d take a firm, experienced, guiding hand. It was time to install a new most important person in the young girl’s life.

Evelyn reached the couch in one stride. She grabbed Winona’s chin and tilted the girl’s head up to face the imposing therapist. Winona’s glazed eyes still avoided eye contact, struggling against twenty years of autism and muscle memory.

“Look at me.” Evelyn commanded, and watched as Winona’s dazed eyes tried to focus. She watched the girl’s mind trudge past every learned behavior she ever had, her very base instincts to avoid meeting the gaze of another. Finally, they locked eyes, and Evelyn fished a remote from her back pocket, pressing one of a few buttons on it. The chime sounded. It wasn’t the start of a session, but the behavior was instilled regardless. Winona felt her very being yawning open for the older woman to fill. She welcomed the respite from her typically racing mind.

“Feel how easily you can relax with me? Remember this feeling. I’m the only one who can give you this. Nod.”

The putty in Evelyn’s grasp nodded along with the woman’s words. Evelyn stifled a giggle at the sizable tent in Winona’s skirt. “I knew you’d fall apart at this. Let me guess, you already had a hypno kink? Does it really feel too good for you to resist?” Evelyn sounded the chime again, and moved to whisper directly in the girl’s ear. 

“Such a sweet girl. You shouldn’t have all this weight on your shoulders. You shouldn’t have to put up with someone like her.” Evelyn spat, venom on her lips. Winona was practically limp in her clutches.

“Y-yes…” Winona managed to drool out. Evelyn was eager to correct.

“Yes, Miss Evelyn. Say it.”

“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” her puppet repeated.

Evelyn finally let her fangs clutch her own lip, unable to hide her excitement. Despite teasing the younger girl about it, she was incredibly hard herself. Melting this poor girl’s mind, destroying her relationship, reorienting all of that love towards herself, it was all an intoxicating blend. She let herself get lost in the thrill. She just had to twist the knife. 

“That’s my name, dear. Miss Evelyn. You will always call me Miss Evelyn, even to others. Understand?” Evelyn hissed into the girl’s ear. She was insatiable, driven lust-mad by the thought of Winona mentioning “Miss Evelyn” to her soon-to-be ex tonight. She would set this girl on the right path.

Winona’s consciousness caught up to her as she was putting the key into the apartment door. She hadn’t remembered much of the therapy session, but the thought didn’t bother her. In fact, she felt completely in bliss. Her thoughts felt subdued, no racing worries like usual. The therapy with Miss Evelyn must be working.

She pushed the door open, finding their living room adorned with lit rosy candles. The typically harsh fluorescents of the kitchen were off, and the warm glow of the candles flickered throughout the apartment. Winona gasped. Even three years into her relationship, she still was astonished at any romantic gesture like this. A beat later, Jessica sauntered out of the bedroom, dressed in an outfit she knew worked particularly well on her girlfriend: oversized t-shirt and panties. The combination had been the catalyst for many nights of passion throughout their three years together. 

This time, though, Winona felt different. Her heart started to race as usual, but it was accompanied by her hands shaking, and the swelter in her brain gradually returning. 

“Hi, my love. Welcome home! I know things have been tough for us lately,” Jessica started, all but tiptoeing towards her girlfriend, “so I figured we could spend tonight in together. I’ve got us wine, and I have been dying…” Jessica continued, finally reaching her partner who towered over her, “to have you inside me.”

Jessica grabbed Winona’s bulge through her pants.

Winona instantly wanted to recoil, but froze up instead. The fire in her mind was choking all of the oxygen out of the room. Her throat felt like it was closing up. Jessica immediately noticed the lack of reciprocation.

“Honey, are you ok? What’s wrong?” Jessica’s tone shifted immediately, recognizing her partner was uncomfortable. She had always been perceptive of Winona’s feelings, and knew to pump the brakes.

“Th-th,” Winona struggled. Jessica guided her shuddering lover to the couch to give her a chance to relax. A moment later, she fetched a glass of water.

“Just breathe, my love, ok?” Jessica gently placed her hand on Winona’s thigh, but the girl flinched, pulling back. Her girlfriend’s touches felt like searing pain to her, like she had just been stung by an iron. Winona’s indecipherable thoughts kept racing, and did the speaking for her.

“M-Miss Evelyn helped me see… you always make me top. I never get to feel like a girl.” Winona mumbled.

Jessica was aghast. “You mean your therapist? Babe, we can do things differently if you want!” She searched for any clues in her partner’s face, but only saw an averted gaze. Winona previously had said that Jessica was the only person she could look in the eyes, a notion that Jessica felt a pang about internally. Had she broken her partner’s trust? Jessica was racking her brain when Winona finally spoke.

“Miss Evelyn said you weren’t good for me.” The monotone girl’s words felt like they were being pulled out of her. “I feel so tired.”

“What? Why do you keep calling her that?” Jessica replied, bewildered. She placed her hand on Winona’s cheek to turn her girlfriend’s face towards her. Jessica gasped at her partner’s typically bright blue eyes being so cloudy. They looked like murky waters on the shore of the dark circles surrounding them. “What the hell? What did she do to you? Are you on drugs?”

Winona wrenched her girlfriend’s arm away. “She’s helping me. Miss Evelyn is the only one who can. Stop touching me, please.” She rose from the couch as if her strings were being pulled.

Jessica fought back tears that would go unnoticed. “What are you talking about, babe? I love you!” She wailed, “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“I can’t be around you anymore. I need to go to Miss Evelyn. We can’t be together.” Winona flatly said, still averting her eyes from her now ex-girlfriend.

Jessica called out through sobs, “What? What happened?”

Without a further word, Winona’s long strides guided her out the door, and she let it close behind her.

Evelyn idly swirled the pinot noir in her glass. Her other hand was occupied with the burgundy moleskine she considered her favorite part of her occupation. This wasn’t the notebook she kept in the office, no. This was for her projects. She’d been addicted to the feeling of complete control since her first one, the one that put her in this house. The particularly boorish and particularly wealthy financier was matched to her through some program or other. Once he had seriously given Evelyn’s therapy a try, it was only a matter of time before he was having changes of heart regarding his money. It was better served under Evelyn’s care, anyway.

For years, she had justified it to herself through her deeds. One man’s wealth allowed her to open a private practice focused on affordable therapy for vulnerable trans individuals. She could use her own life experience and expertise in psychoactive drugs and mental illness to help uplift people just like her. 

Except, the void in her soul was not one to be filled with altruism. 

After a few years, she inched closer to her patients. The women were her type, after all. Young, vulnerable, practically begging for someone to take the weight off their shoulders. Evelyn was doing them a service, in the end. Those that weren’t already dating trans women were sure to have their preferences updated after a few sessions with her. It was what they deserved: true understanding.

She thumbed through her project records and took stock. None of them felt, to Evelyn, like they were life partner material. Most of them were half her age, so they often didn’t even register as potential friends. But what they were, was useful. 

For a whisper in the ear, she could get car repairs. For a matronly declaration of love, she could get custom furniture. Tell a girl she’s special and she may give you access to drugs you never could’ve imagined. Everyone has a price, but Evelyn knew the truth: they’ll all throw the price out the window as soon as a dopamine rush hits. As soon as they’re back in Miss Evelyn’s presence. 

Just then her phone buzzed on the small table next to her. It seemed like those work clothes were going to have to stay on a little longer. Her eyes widened when she checked the message.

[7:08 PM] Winona: miss evelyn, i need you

Evelyn put her notebook down, and took an extended sip of her wine before exchanging it for her phone. She couldn’t believe the girl had gotten to this point already, Evelyn knew it would be easy but-

[7:10 PM] Winona: *your help

Evelyn rolled her eyes. The shame that made Winona pretend that was a typo would have to be excised.

[7:10 PM] Winona: i know it’s late but i just broke up with jjessica im really nervous

The therapist felt her hair stand on end. She bit her finger to stop herself from being hasty. Evelyn knew by now that this was the part where she’d have to exercise restraint, despite being so close to her goal. She didn’t want to act on the urges of the tent growing in her slacks. As always, Evelyn provided a measured response as she cast her web.

[7:10 PM] Evelyn: We can do an emergency session here at my home if that’s O.K. with you.

[7:11 PM] Evelyn: 312 Maple Ln is the address. The 46 bus stops right at the corner of my block.

[7:12 PM] Winona: thank you miss evelyn im so sorry

[7:12 PM] Evelyn: No apologies necessary, dear.

Evelyn’s eyes darted towards the deep red notebook. It looked like she’d need to call that sweet chemist girl again.

In a haze, Winona disembarked the 46. It had finally gotten dark, and the streetlamps flicked on as if to greet the weary traveler. The neighborhood was far more upscale than Winona would’ve expected for a reduced-rate LGBTQ-focused therapist. 

Her lack of belonging in the unfamiliar neighborhood heightened her sense of feeling like a guest in her own life. Winona tried to reflect on the breakup as she trudged past the manicured hedges. Even when panicking, she never made hasty decisions like she had earlier today.

Winona tried to avoid spiraling as her steps took her, almost instinctively, towards what she thought could be her solution. To her perception, she had been doing so well the past few months. She hadn’t had an attack since she started therapy with Miss Evelyn. Winona couldn’t understand why Jessica wasn’t being supportive. She had regretted walking out so soon, as her and her girlfriend had a great track record of talking out issues.The heat in her mind at the apartment had simply become too unbearable. She hoped to discuss it with Miss Evelyn.

Winona’s navigation app beeped, and she looked up at the house she had stopped at. She could feel the blaze become tempered as she knew she would soon be in Miss Evelyn’s care.

The door swung open as Winona treaded the stone path through the lawn. The flames were quenched when she saw her therapist standing in the doorway. Miss Evelyn was even more stunning to Winona than usual, with the soft glow of the streetlamps kissing the sides of her cheekbones. She was wearing exactly what she had always worn for therapy, a pristine black blazer and white shirt combination that Winona had never even caught a wrinkle on.

The therapist beckoned for the girl to come in, and held the door open to allow Winona to enter first. The living room was immaculate, with no trace of it being lived in other than the stylish decor. A black and white zig-zag pattern rug sat beneath a glass coffee table. A plush chenille couch was facing the long side of the table, sitting 90 degrees from the director-style chair that Miss Evelyn was no doubt going to be sitting in. On the crystal surface of the table was a cylindrical glass of water. Winona’s eyes had settled on it when she was nearly startled by Miss Evelyn’s voice behind her.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I got it ready for you ahead of time. Have a seat.”

Winona all but snapped to the couch, ignoring the intrusion upon her sacred routine that, under normal circumstances, would’ve caused extreme distress. Instead, Winona let herself sink into the comfort that Miss Evelyn’s presence provided her. 

Though her anxiety was starting to subside, Winona’s throat was dry. She reached for the glass, and could feel her therapist’s gaze burrowing into her as she guzzled two-thirds of the water.

“Eager as always, huh? I understand. Sounds like you’ve had a rough night.” Evelyn settled into her director’s chair, extra height projecting control and superiority. To Winona, she looked unfathomably tall.

“Let me help you take care of that.” Miss Evelyn offered. The chime sounded, and Winona felt herself starting to melt.

The darkness was all-consuming. Winona felt herself dancing on the edge of consciousness. Time became smeared, with seconds stretching into hours of bliss. She was losing grip on her senses, smothered in the haze settling on her mind. 

She was sinking, until suddenly, she found refuge. First, a waft of vetiver perfume. Winona instinctively inhaled, as if trying to gather up the very essence of the woman before her. Before she could even dwell on what made her do that, a voice enveloped her. It was Miss Evelyn, and it felt as if a filter was placed on Winona’s sense that would only let stimuli from her therapist through. 

“Good girl, Winnie.”

Winona’s head spun. She’d never been called that, had she? Why did it feel so familiar? The thoughts were pushed out of her head by a more pressing matter. Her crotch felt warm, and she could feel her womanhood growing inch by inch. Winona’s anxiety was scratching at the door. Oh fuck, not in front of Miss Evelyn, I-.

Winona’s thoughts were brought to a screeching halt by a chuckle. The humiliation made her cheeks glow, and only served to help the blood flow to her cock more eagerly.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You’re safe with me. You can feel how you want to feel.” Miss Evelyn’s voice coated her conscience like thick oil. Winona’s mind accepted the words and her muscles relaxed back into the couch behind her, even as her dick stood at complete attention in the loose sweatpants.

Evelyn gazed upon her magnum opus. As calculating as she has always been, she hadn’t expected this girl to turn over a new leaf so fast. Winona had delivered herself to the therapist’s home, and all but offered her mind up to be devoured. It was time to cash in on the months of preparation and conditioning. The psychoactives Winona didn’t know she was taking, the hypnosis sessions she didn’t remember, and the emotions she didn’t know were tweaked were going to work wonders as Evelyn carved out a space in Winona’s brain for herself. All that love and misplaced adoration, finally going to a woman that deserved it.

The therapist’s cock ached at the sight of her patient’s lidded eyes and the stream of drool down her face. It wasn’t the first time Evelyn had Winona in this position, but her caution wouldn’t let her fully act on her desires until the prey was fully ensnared. Now, on the precipice of victory, the urges were stronger than ever.

“Now, Winnie,” Evelyn started, noticing the twitch in Winona at the sound of the nickname only her subconscious knew, “you said you broke up with your, ah, partner tonight. How did that feel?”

It was as if the prompting from her therapist made Winona spring to life like an animatronic.

“Bad, Miss Evelyn. The fire was hotter than ever.” She answered dutifully and sleepily.

Evelyn contained her excitement. This girl’s head was so fucked. Evelyn sounded the chime once more and watched Winona fall limp again, ready to soak up any honeyed words from Miss Evelyn.

“You’re such a good girl for remembering my proper title.” Evelyn bit her lip as she watched Winona shiver, “You’re such a good girl for breaking up with your girlfriend for me. Does that feel good?”

Winona was all but panting at the praise, and again answered when prompted. “Yes, Miss Evelyn,” the monotone voice that spilled out said.

“I want you to hold on to the feelings you’re getting from my praise, and forever associate it with the events of tonight, okay? Breaking up with your girlfriend felt good. It’s important for your healing process.” Evelyn continued, holding back venom from the word ‘girlfriend’.

Winona was floating in a sea of pleasure and darkness. Her senses were failing her. Her conscious mind hadn’t really understood a word that Miss Evelyn had said to her, merely accepted it as truth. She heard voices outside of herself. Miss Evelyn.

“Let’s do a memory exercise. What kind of girls do you like?” 

Winona tried in vain to think at all, but instead heard herself speak. “All of them, I think?”

A wry smile crept across Evelyn’s face. “You’re wrong, sweetie. You love trans women, remember? The cis girl you ended up with last time was abusive, and you’d feel a lot safer with someone like yourself. That’s what you told me, at least,” the therapist lied. It didn’t matter. Truth wasn’t relevant to Winona, who could only be certain in the new reality Miss Evelyn was pouring into her head. 

“Close your eyes, sweet girl, and try to remember our previous sessions.”

The command was all-consuming. Winona’s eyes fluttered, and her tranquility gave way to fits as she was treated to fuzzy, dim memories from her own subconscious. Things she hadn’t remembered until now.

Laying in the dark, next to a peacefully slumbering Jessica, sleeplessly scrolling through rough, kinky, constant trans girl on trans girl content. Eyes darting feverishly around the screen, all but magnetized to the cocks on the often-hung women. It was the only porn she watched for months.

Further memories flooded in. One session after another, all previously a blur, now being presented in beautiful technicolor. A view from her knees, in a familiar place. It was Miss Evelyn’s office. Her heart was pounding, and the room was spinning. When did this-. Gentle shushing in the memory quieted both her thoughts and the words she attempted to form at the time. Her gaze was drawn upwards towards the source of the sound. The fluorescents were almost blinding - she could only see the outline of Miss Evelyn - but she knew those warm brown eyes were looking expectantly. Winona’s eyes refocused and she saw it. Her therapist’s throbbing womanhood, positioned squarely in front of the girl, intoxicating heat radiating off of it. It has to be at least nine inches, Winona thought unquestioningly.

“You know what to do, Winnie.” Winona remembered Miss Evelyn’s sultry voice burrowing into her skull. She opened her mouth, drool threatening to rush out, and wrapped her lips around her therapist’s cock without a second thought.

“You live to worship trans women. You love girlcock. Never forget that.” The memory of Miss Evelyn commanded, and the words seeped into the mind of the girl with clouded eyes. Winona lost track of how many times it had been.

Winona gasped for air. In the present, her sense of self tried to break through. Something about this wasn’t right. She was doing this week after week? She hadn’t remembered it a single time until she was prompted by her therapist. Winona shuddered and pried her gaze up to look at Miss Evelyn in the face. She shoved down the butterflies in her stomach, desperate for answers.

“Wait, what did you- did you ra- what the hell?!” she stammered out, tone straddling the line between pleading and accusatory. The flames in her head were alight again.

“It’s adorable seeing the last of your willpower,” Evelyn gloated. She was absolutely rock hard, flowing with perverse adrenaline. “I’ve gotten this far without an ounce of pushback from you. Are you sure you didn’t want this?” The words made Winona’s hair stand on end. 

“Don’t you want me?” Evelyn effortlessly rose from her chair and within a blink, her hand was cupping Winona’s chin, pulling her focus up to her eyes. Winona couldn’t avert her gaze. She was trapped by Miss Evelyn’s frenzied eyes, too terrified for her eye contact avoidance instincts to even kick in. She was frozen in fear, drowning in the darkness of her therapist’s eyes.

The older woman was radiant, and from the girl’s seated position she loomed like a dark skyscraper. Her all-consuming shadow was cast over Winona. The girl felt the last embers in her mind getting stamped out under Miss Evelyn’s heel.

“I’ve never seen someone as easy as you. You must’ve been so desperate for a guiding hand, anything you could get from a fellow trans woman old enough to be your mother.” Miss Evelyn’s words made Winona shiver, freezing cold water thrown over the spent coals in her brain. Tears welled up in the broken girl’s eyes, pure strife between her conscious will and subconscious desires making it even hard to focus, and even harder to resist.

“But, Miss… I- what… Jessica-” Winona managed to sputter, prompting a click of the tongue from her therapist.

“You poor girl. That vile woman treated you so badly. Let me help.” Evelyn leaned down, and all but pressed her lips up to her prey’s ear. “Forget her name for me, Winnie. Forget everything but the pain she caused you.” She whispered.

Winona’s mind was in splitting, freezing pain. Like her nerves had been dipped in menthol. The headache spread, dissolvent being poured over treasured memories with… her ex? The memories seemed faceless, and soon their last three years had been sanded down, scrubbed clean. When Winona tried to remember their trips, their adventures together, their domestic life, only a sharp burning remained. The scorching, searing fire. The pain was unbearable. She had to seek shelter. She dove back into the frigid depths of the new truths implanted in her mind by Miss Evelyn. She couldn’t try anymore. She couldn’t even remember what she was trying to remember.

Soon after, tranquility returned to Winona’s face, suddenly finding herself slumped against Miss Evelyn’s bosom. Winona blinked awake, groggily. She was… still at Miss Evelyn’s place, of course. The physical contact with her therapist didn’t feel out of the ordinary to her. She knew Miss Evelyn would always do the right thing to help.

“Good morning, sweet thing,” the sultry voice right above her head said, “you had a pretty vicious episode earlier.” Evelyn pulled her jacket’s sleeve back to reveal a bandage on her arm, as if to prove it. Pausing a beat to let the false implication sink in, the therapist continued, “It’s okay though, it’s always okay. This is part of the healing process, especially after an abusive relationship.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Winona felt like there should’ve been something she’d reply to that. It burned her head to think about the fuzzy past, so the protest died on her lips. She instead chose to focus on her gratitude for her therapist. This was beyond anything she would’ve expected for such a cheap rate, and the guilt washed over her for whatever pain she might’ve caused Miss Evelyn.

“I’m sorry, Miss Evelyn. Thank you for taking care of me.” Winona’s voice was smaller than ever.

“Of course, Winnie.” Evelyn replied. Just as she was trained to, Winona fell into a heat at her special nickname. Her womanhood grew, and she noticed she was just wearing panties, which, again, did not register as out of place. She didn’t even get embarrassed about being hard in front of her therapist. Her shame, along with other characteristics Evelyn considered unsavory, had been stripped away from her. 

“Let’s quiet your guilt there a little bit. Down.”

Winona instinctively knew to kneel before Miss Evelyn, and there had already been a pillow placed neatly by the therapist’s feet. Winona dutifully pried herself away from the older woman and got down on her knees, looking up expectantly. She had no idea why she had previously been nervous around Miss Evelyn; all the traits about her that lent to Winona’s unease seemed to be inviting now. Those intense eyes just show that she cares. Was that a wry smirk or was it really a warm smile? Winona had never been more sure.

“You can make it up to me, Winnie.” Goosebumps racked Winona’s skin at Miss Evelyn’s words again. “I’m going to make you mine. I know what you want. You know what you want.” 

The dazzled, drooling girl didn’t even notice that her puppeteer had already undone her own pants, pulling them down slightly to reveal tight black boyshorts. Winona was too busy staring up at the woman who had all the answers.

She heard a snap from Miss Evelyn’s right hand, and her eyes were immediately drawn to it. The older woman’s fingers were long and supple, as if she’d been a piano maestra in another life. Affixed to them, what appeared like claws in her previous quick movement, but now came into Winona’s vision as deep merlot nails. The subtle sparkle from the glitter on them made the dizzy girl feel like she was staring into the cosmos.

Miss Evelyn must’ve noticed Winona’s staring too, as the girl’s tongue all but lolled out once Evelyn started smoothly, hypnotically, shifting her hand. She let her prey get lost in each curve of her fingers, each glint of light off those dark red void nails.

“That’s really all it takes, huh? I really fucked you up.” Miss Evelyn continued giving her pet-to-be a show. Her gliding hand movements made those nails feel like black holes, just swallowing every bit of Winona’s will, every ounce of attention. Evelyn stifled a giggle when she moved her hand to the side and saw poor, broken Winona continue to follow it with her vision.

“Enough,” Winona suddenly thought she heard in her head. She let her view be guided down to the older woman’s bulge. Winona’s stomach initially twisted at the sight. Something wasn’t right, but… she took in the view before her. Miss Evelyn now looked relaxed, auburn eyes peering over her glasses down at the girl. The therapist, even with her pants unbuttoned and partially down, as well as a now slightly wrinkled button-up and black blazer, looked like royalty from down here.

“This,” Miss Evelyn cooed, pulling her patient’s focus back down, “is what you want now.” Winona stared, fleeting thoughts of resistance, wisps of memories or preferences she thought she had, all surfacing. That is, until she felt Miss Evelyn’s other strong hand cover nearly the entirety of the back of her head. Big, was the last thing Winona’s blunted mind could offer before her face was plunged into the outline in Miss Evelyn’s panties.

The heat was intoxicating. Even through the cotton, it struck Winona how warm and soft it was between Miss Evelyn’s legs, pressed up against her-. Winona’s mind skipped like a faulty CD. The next thing that hit her overburdened mind was the scent. It was clear this was a woman home after a long day of work, for sure, but there was something else, too. Maple was it? Something sweet. Either way, she squirmed and couldn’t stop her moans as she felt it become her favorite scent, a heavenly mix of hard work and refined taste. Her second deep inhale didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh yeah, Winnie?” Her therapist teased, keeping her hand firm behind Winona’s head, “you like it that much, huh? You’ll fit right in.” Winona’s head was pounding, all she could do was whimper while her priorities were changed at will by Miss Evelyn. She imagined the spindly fingers that were holding her head in place were instead reaching through her skull. It felt like her mind was being invaded, prodded by the woman she had willingly shared her darkest thoughts and secrets with. She wanted to be horrified that her trust had been turned into a weapon against her. She wanted to be horrified that she wanted more. In the end, all she could do was whimper.

“Poor thing,” Winona heard pity from above, “it seems like you’re eager for the next step.” Miss Evelyn once again held Winona’s attention captive, with slow flowing hand motions, placing it on her waistband. She tugged lightly on the girl’s hair with the other hand, and started pulling down the tight garment that separated Winona from her very first conscious experience with someone else’s dick. That’s when she saw it.

It was massive, and the months of forgotten memories still didn’t prepare Winona for the awe it would strike through her. Winona’s drug-addled mind regarded its reveal with all the wonder of a summer sunset. It wasn’t the length that surprised her - Winona’s own length was only slightly shorter - but the differences between her own and Miss Evelyn’s. The cock before her was downright thick, and outside of the smooth skin on it, there was no evidence of any diminishment from estrogen. One of Winona’s hands slipped into her own panties mindlessly, as if to compare. Miss Evelyn’s dick was almost vulgar to a degree that made her own feel downright dainty. Her own tight coinpurse couldn’t measure up to the heavy hanging balls right in front of her face.

Nothing about Miss Evelyn’s uptight, white-collar woman of the 21st century demeanor or appearance would’ve suggested she was packing such a monster. The smug therapist sipped from a glass of wine with her free hand to give Winona a chance to admire it. She always soaked in the wonder that the dichotomy between her refined self and her brutish dick inspired in the women in Winona’s position. All the better that the girl kneeling before her now would have it seared into her memory.

Winona felt the throbbing cock fall upon her face, the warmth and scent from earlier being dialed up an order of magnitude. The weight of Miss Evelyn’s shaft against her was disorienting. It felt like two halves of her psyche were being rended apart, and the splitting headache from it were waves eroding the shore of her mind. She couldn’t swim against the rip current. She wanted to let it take her.

“Good girl,” Miss Evelyn praised, “just let me in.” The therapy chime, of all things, sounded again. Winona felt tension rush out of her body, felt her mind ready to accept new truths. The cock on her face would simply reinforce them.

“You belong to girldick. Agree with me,” Miss Evelyn commanded.

“I belong to girldick,” Her pupil learned.

“You don’t want pussy.”

“I-, I-,” the weight of Winona’s fundamental being tried to push. The weight of Miss Evelyn’s cock pushed harder. “I don’t want pussy.”

“You would do anything to please me.”

“I would do anything to please Miss Evelyn.”

“Good girl. You know what would please me very much?” Evelyn’s wry smile showed her satisfaction at the girl’s monotone voice. It was time for some more wine. “Repeat those three things until I say otherwise. I want them to stick to your mind, I want them to be your core truths.”

The slackjawed girl, still awestruck by Miss Evelyn’s cock, started reciting as she was pushed back into her new owner’s crotch. 

“I belong to girldick,” she kissed the underside of the shaft, right beneath the head. 

“I don’t want pussy,” she dragged her tongue down slowly, empty mind savoring every moment of pleasure. 

She started making out with Miss Evelyn’s hefty balls, soaking in every ounce of difference between her and the woman who was breaking her. 

“I would do anything to please Miss Evelyn.” 

Evelyn swirled her wine. She let herself indulge in it while her puppet lost herself to the words as if Winona was a delirious priestess, and this was her scripture.

“This is your mantra. Repeat,” Miss Evelyn commanded it, so Winona did it. Again, and again.

Once she finished her glass, Evelyn was satisfied. Now to make it all stick. She put her foot, still in heels, right between the girl beneath her’s thighs. Having her bulge brushed up against, even in such a humiliating, unfamiliar way, drove Winona crazy. She continued the mantra, of course, but wavered and bucked at every sensation. Evelyn had no intention of actually taking the time to pleasure the poor girl down there, but a little stimulation makes the conditioning seep so much deeper. The degradation of the act was just a bonus.

Miss Evelyn, and the words she put there, were the only things in Winona’s head. She was losing her grip on reality, and fast. Her face felt hot. The words she was reciting turned into a garbled mess as Winona struggled to stay upright.

“Oh, looks like it’s finally all kicking in,” Winona heard through the fog, through the blinding colors, “this is much more than I normally give you.” 

Winona tried look up at the blinding halo of light above her. Pretty lady, was all her thoughts could muster.

The voice returned, “God you don’t even understand what I’m saying, huh? That’s okay, you love when I give you ‘water’,” Miss Evelyn chuckled. “It’s part of our routine, isn’t it?”

Winona could only drool. There was a nagging feeling in her gut, as if she was on a roller coaster drop that never ended. The sensation was smothered by the colors dancing before her eyes and the smallest bit of stimulation her dick was getting.

“Let me give you something I know you’ll understand.” Winona heard, and felt the firm grip on the back of her head push forward. Her lips parted to gasp but they were instead filled with warm, salty flesh. She felt more of her past self die wrapped around this cock with each forceful thrust. I belong to girldick. She tried to cough but her airway wasn’t clear enough. I don’t need pussy. She felt the holy womanhood before her slam into the back of her throat. She wasn’t even aware enough to gag. I would do anything to please Miss Evelyn. The words were being pressed into her mind each time she took the entire length. 

It was becoming her truth.

What was left of Winona lost track of the time, and the amount of times the mantra was repeated in her head as she bobbed on Miss Evelyn’s dick desperately. She was pretty sure Miss Evelyn was saying something, but it rolled right off her conscious mind and felt like it was seeping into a deeper layer. Either way, the colors and sounds of her drug-addled brain kept her dumb and happy. She was making as much of a whine as she could despite the windpipe obstruction. 

Something in her was building to a head. She had never felt this sensitive before, and Miss Evelyn’s just-noticeable pressure on the girl’s cock was more divine, to her, than anything she could’ve gotten in her previous life. She couldn’t stop, she- she-.

“Oh yeah Winnie? Getting close just from this?” Winona bucked in response to the authoritative voice above. “Let’s break you for good. Cum for me, make Miss Evelyn proud.” 

Winona would’ve screamed in ecstasy if there wasn’t 9 inches down her throat. She would’ve fallen over backwards if Miss Evelyn’s firm, guiding hand wasn’t behind her head, holding her in place. She felt her very being thanking Miss Evelyn, her soul placing itself in debt to the perfect woman before her. 

Winona writhed, as the colors in her vision shifted and exploded. Her body tensed one final time, before her muscles settled into a level of relaxation previously unknown to the girl.

She was gushing through her panties, but she couldn’t conjure up the awareness to prevent any from spilling. She leaked onto Miss Evelyn’s heels, prompting a stifled giggle from above. Winona waited, half-limp, for sanity to return to her. For the normal come-down after an intense ejaculation. She felt herself returning home, to the house Evelyn had told her to imagine her mind as. Only now, she found everything…changed. Less square footage. The cavernous den was replaced by a cozy living space, lights dimmer and wallpaper missing. It was less ornate, for sure, but a feeling of comfort creeped over Winona at the simplicity. Most importantly of all, she felt a cool breeze across her face. The fire was gone. After a moment, she couldn’t even remember what was different about the home in her mind. Winona simply basked in the afterglow, her twitching muscles sending ripples of pleasure up her spine.

Ecstasy wracked her brain, where before the heat had been a wildfire, it had become glowing molten steel. The metal was being cooled and forged by Miss Evelyn, exactly to her own specifications. Imprinting the flourishes she wanted from the younger girl, etching this night into her brain. Formed into a dumber, easier slut for other trans women. Winona was different now. 

But, she couldn’t tell at this moment. All Winona could do as the sensations rushed through her was look up stupidly at the woman who had been imparting her will upon her all this time. The broken girl stared dreamily at Miss Evelyn’s smug grin, and let the dichotomy tattoo itself upon her mind. 

Miss Evelyn was elegant, strong, and looked way more put together than one should moments after sex. Winona, on the other hand, was in an oversized t-shirt covered in her own drool, hair frazzled and body slick with sweat from the physical activities and drugs coursing through her system. Winona was merely a girl next to the domineering woman before her. She felt lucky to even be beneath Miss Evelyn.

“You look so fucking stupid right now,” Miss Evelyn’s heavenly voice rang out. The woman’s husky notes were like nectar to the young girl now. It was clear that Winona couldn’t even parse what her new owner was saying. Miss Evelyn snapped her fingers to grab the girl’s attention. “Hey, what did you say you did for work before? Some clerical stuff?”

Winona nodded, not because she understood the question, but because she wanted to hear more of Miss Evelyn’s voice. 

“Wonderful. I’ve decided to keep you, you’re particularly pliable and it seems like you have no connections elsewhere.” The matter-of-fact cruelty of Evelyn’s statement was lost on the starstruck girl. Evelyn reached for the coffee table and grabbed Winona’s phone, holding up the screen to her stupid, drooling face in order to unlock it. Once the facial recognition kicked in, Evelyn turned the phone back around and started tapping furiously.

“Certainly that old ex of yours won’t come looking now that you’ve broken her poor heart now, my sweet Winnie,” Winona heard, and everything but her special nickname rolled off the dazed girl. She shuddered, trained pleasure coursing through her body.

“I need a new receptionist. A live-in one. You’re, uh, hired.” Evelyn quipped, letting her malicious excitement seep through.

Jessica sat on the bench in the square. It was a spot her and her ex would birdwatch while eating their sandwiches from the nearby deli. She remembered Winona playfully scolding her about feeding the bread to the pigeons.

She winced at her own mental mention of the girl she thought was her soulmate. At least the Italian sub she was eager to unwrap wouldn’t leave her.

Just then, she thought she saw an employed Amazonian. The towering woman was in a black and white business professional outfit, and it seemed her slacks were struggling to contain her hips. Jessica swooned before noticing her companion, a woman who was not quite as tall, and wore a similar outfit with no blazer, and a skirt instead of pants.

It was unmistakable. That was Winona! 

Instinct won out over composure. She hadn’t seen or heard from her recent ex in months, when it seemed like she had a full breakdown that ended the relationship. She blurted out the wrong word.

“Babe!” Jessica called across the courtyard. Winona’s companion continued walking. Jessica sprinted to catch up to her ex-lover. 

Winona had actually turned around, searching for the source of the noise before her eyes settled on the shorter woman rushing towards her.

“Uh,” Winona’s face was puzzled.

Jessica saw her ex’s eyes, still about as cloudy and dim as they had been that day everything went wrong.

That didn’t surprise her as much as the other thing she noticed. In huge, serifed letters on her soft smooth thighs, a tattoo. ‘T4T’.

The words died on Jessica’s lips as suddenly she was reminded of the final text she received from Winona.

‘I belong to trans women now. You never have and never will accept me.’ It had read. It sounded nothing like Winona, and Jessica had assumed it was just a result of shock from that night. But the truth was manifest, and permanently inked onto Winona’s skin.

Jessica felt whatever hope she had been holding onto get crushed beneath the dark heels of the mysterious woman she saw with Winona. It simply would never be the same again.

The lack of recognition in Winona’s eyes only added to the sense of doom.

Winona filled the silence, “Uh, I think you have the wrong person.”

Before Jessica could respond, the uninterested girl jogged off to join her companion.

She never saw Winona again.