True Relief: First Meeting

Author's Note: Written by a trans masc individual for whomever, but especially fellow LGBTQ folks. The main character, Kent, is trans masc and parts of their body are referred to with specific terms ie; clit, pussy etc. There are references to transphobia and homophobia, though they are brief and early on. They are not involved in the sexual scenes.

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Kent slammed the Pilsner down with more force than they intended. The heavy glass base remained in their hand as the thinner walls cracked in thirds, tumbling over their hand miraculously without leaving behind any marks. A piece of the glass bounced off the bar and into the lap of the asshole drunk Kent had just been serving.

"Blind fucking bitch!" the walking pile of dogshit swore, pushing back from the bar but toppling into a disgraceful pile as their stool caught on the uneven tile and tipped over. The patron to his far right spared him a pitying look, but the only other guest at the bar didn't bother to look up from his glass.

"Jesus, kid," Mark sighed, setting a warm hand on their shoulder. The side of his palm tickled the hairs on Kent's neck. "You need to watch that temper before someone complains. Be good."

Kent shook his hand off, snatching the shards of glass from the counter. "Sorry, sorry," they muttered, cheeks burning. They were already embarrassed that they'd let the dude's transphobic comments get to them, they did not need their older, hot as fuck boss calling them a kid right now or asking them to be good.

They tossed the shards of glass in the bucket under the sink. "I'll grab the broom."

They didn't wait for an answer - there were only three people in the whole bar on this bustling Tuesday evening - before slipping into the back to search for the hand broom.

They headed for the utility closet but caught their reflection in the over the sink mirror nearby. Their caramel brown hair was a mess, mussed from the humidity and the rush they were in to leave the house this morning. As if having a perpetual baby face at 24 wasn't enough, the frustrated flush in their cheeks and the tears pricking at their eyes made them feel emasculated in a way that they didn't really want to deconstruct at this moment. Men could cry too. Not that they were a man. Not that they weren't?

Not that fucking assholes would think they were a man even if they wanted them to. All they were gonna see is some short haired femme or a messy dyke, or a tomboy who just needed to meet the right guy to unlock her divine femininity.

Deep breath, they were getting into a hole now. Less thinking, more breathing.

They reached up to brush their messy hair into some sort of part when they noticed their hand. While it hadn't seemed to be cut earlier, they now noticed the bits of blood seeping through minor scratches on their skin. They swore.

Five minutes later they'd finally finished disinfecting and bandaging their hand, and remembered they had left Mark alone in the front.

"Fucking hell, dumbass," they muttered, hurrying off.

They didn't need to worry too much. The bar was more empty than before, just the two guests. Kent took a moment hovering at the threshold of the bar, watching Mark chat with the sympathetic guest. The drunk was either still crumpled on the other side of the bar or, more likely, had been escorted out into an uber by Mark.

While he could be a brick wall of a man when he needed to, Mark was kind to a fault. He'd never made a big deal about Kent wanting to use they and them as pronouns, and he'd told certain customers to shut their mouth over their can of beer or head out, but he would also cut those customers a great amount of slack for just having a hard time keeping up with the times or meaning well.

It was infuriating. Kent loved and hated the man in equal measures. It didn't help that he gave everyone his full undivided attention when he spoke to you, like you were the moon or the sun or something. Even right now, he was leaned halfway across the bar, chatting with the sympathetic customer.

She was pretty, Kent thought passively. Wavy brown hair, pinned back in little curls on the side of her head. She was maybe 35, closer to Mark's age than Kent's, certainly. Her fashion was fairly young, though. Gentle lipstick and gorgeous eyeliner. Low cut shirt and a tight top. After looking at her for another moment, Kent was pretty sure they'd spoken to her once or twice. It seemed she might be a new regular.

The woman reached her hand across the bar and set it on Mark's broad forearm. He didn't pull away, and instead set his hand on top of hers.

Oh. Whore, their brain supplied, which Kent immediately felt nauseously guilty about. So what if she was flirting with Mark? So what if they were even secretly dating? Or not secretly. Why would Mark have told Kent about this anyway? It wasn't any of their business what their boss did outside of work.

Stop, brain, they begged themselves, ultimately snapping their eyes away and down to the other end of the bar.

The other customer, the unflappable one, immediately met their eyes. Maybe he'd even been looking before, Kent wondered. They felt a spark of curiosity, probably fueled by jealousy, and didn't break the locked gaze of the man.

He had light hazel eyes, almost kind if not for the sharp expression. Black hair, five o'clock shadow, relaxed face other than the eyes.

Those damn eyes. He hadn't broken from their gaze either, though Kent wondered if he was taking them in through his periphery as well. His hand slipped away from his drink and down under the bar.

To his pants? Kent stared straight into his eyes, suddenly imagining he must be unzipping his fly and slipping his hands right into his boxers. He still hadn't broken their gaze, they were still staring straight into his amber eyes, and he was probably stroking his fat cock. It was probably getting harder and harder under his own touch. It would probably get even harder if they wrapped their lips around it and sucked.

Kent could feel themselves getting wet and clenched their jaw, snapping their eyes away. At the sign of his movement, they snapped their eyes back, only to see him set a card and a twenty dollar bill down on the bar before pushing out of his chair and heading out.

They pocketed them both before Mark could see and tell them to drop it in the tip jar. "Hey Mark?" they asked. "Do you still need me to close?"

Mark glanced at them, then back at the sympathetic woman. "No, that's okay kid. You can head home, I think I'll close up in just a minute anyway." The woman giggled and smiled shyly.

Kent couldn't get out of there quick enough.

When Kent got home, they snuck upstairs and into their bedroom as quickly as possible, hoping they wouldn't wake their roommate. They didn't even bother to turn the lights on as they stripped down to their boxers and tank top, throwing themselves on their bed and whipping their phone out. They were frustrated and horny and angry and needed to masturbate now.

But nothing looked good. They didn't want to read. They didn't want to watch gay porn because it just made them feel small and unattractive. They didn't want to watch straight porn because it would just make them think of Mark and that woman. Were they dating? Just fucking? Were they fucking right now?

Kent reached down to rest a hand on their lower stomach, pressing lightly. Maybe Mark had her bent over the bar even. Maybe she was dripping all the way down her legs. Kent dipped a finger under their waist band, feeling their own slick at the idea of it.

Maybe Mark had his jeans down to his thighs or his ankles. His cock had been half hard during the conversation but it was erect now, six - no, seven - inches long, ghosting between her lips. She'd wiggle her hips, push back, try and get him to enter, but - Kent grabbed their own hip - he'd hold her tightly, push her forward against the bar. He would decide when he wanted to give her cock, when she'd earned it.

But Kent was playing with their clit, they were already wound up, so they skipped ahead to the part where he finally plunged his cock into their pussy. It would feel so good, spread them apart wide - fuck, they dipped a finger in briefly but it wasn't anywhere near enough, nothing like a real cock. What they wouldn't do for a real cock in them.

They rubbed their clit furiously, bucked their hips, frustrated and wanting for friction and resistance and to be violated. They imagined Mark again, his hands so big, he could move them anywhere he wanted, they wouldn't say a thing, they'd just let him move them and sink into them and pound away until the only thing Kent could think about was his fat cock filling them up over and over again.

The only thing they'd be able to feel would be his fat cock stretching them wide. And using them exactly how he wanted, calling them a good boy, so good for me, so good at being my cock sleeve and maybe Kent would come - Kent was close now, fuck they were close - but even so. He would keep pounding into their sore fucking pussy until he was done, until he'd chased his orgasm and would come raw into them, filling their guts with his hot cum until Kent had no choice but to- to-

Fuck, Kent was cumming. For a moment, that brief clarity of nothingness, just the fucking cumming and then it was done. The clench and the release over all too quickly.

They stared up at the ceiling, panting, sweaty, feeling sticky and gross for more than just jizz related reasons. With a groan they threw their arm over their face, gritting their teeth until their mind finally calmed down. What a mess.

--

That night they could hardly sleep, waking up from and falling back into sex and gender ridden nightmares until their alarm woke them up at 1pm for their 1:30 shift. This gave them plenty of time to frantically toss on the same clothes as the day before, slap on a black baseball cap, and dart out the door to their car. Halfway to work, as the adrenaline of the alarm wore off, they realized they felt absolutely disgusting. They just prayed that nobody else would notice.

"You smell like sex," Alice said to them as soon as they leaned by her to clock in.

"Jesus," Kent snapped, taking a step back from their coworker. "Have a little class." Alice was grinning at them, snickering. "And don't say something about hypocrisy," Kent warned.

Alice shrugged and skipped away to finish her opening duties in the back. Kent sighed, beginning to fill the sinks. As they waited, they reached their hand into their pocket to grab their phone, but instead noticed a business card of some kind. They pulled it out and looked at it under the stream of sunlight from the front windows.

It was all black with a glossy black print on it. Kent held it up and squinted, trying to make out what it was. True Relief, it said, with an image of some kinda mixed up alchemy symbol. Kinda like the trans symbol but with triangles and other lines around it. They couldn't see a number or email or website anywhere, but their phone buzzed. When they unlocked it, they saw it had opened to a website with contact info, all under the same name of True Relief. There wasn't any other info, just a gray background with the info.

Probably some kind of dispensary, Kent thought, wondering how they got any business at all if this was their kind of marketing. Then again... this was the card that the silent patron had left, wasn't it? Kent twiddled it between their fingers, trying and failing to ignore the arousal they were beginning to feel.

He hadn't done anything at all. He'd just been reaching down for the card, and Kent - fucking sex obsessed much - had imagined all the rest of it. He was cute - no, attractive, but not cute - but that was just Kent being a weirdo.

Still. Maybe some weed would chill them out or something. They'd never really smoked, mostly just drank and tried a cigarette once. Maybe this would help calm them down.

--

The shift went by slowly, with Kent making a pittance in tips. At this rate they wouldn't have enough money to buy drugs even if they wanted to.

Part of them kept wishing that the strange silent guy would show up again, just so they could get a better read on him. Double check that this actually was some kind of dispensary, or maybe some kind of witchy shop. Either one would be cool, and honestly they had an equal chance of being helpful at this point. Anything to calm their mind down and - dear God - either get them laid or get them to cum well.

They'd been on edge the whole drive in and the whole shift, unable to stop thinking about the scene from last night. They knew that testosterone could make a guy horny but Jesus, surely it wasn't supposed to be as encompassing as this. They zoned out watching Mark cleaning glassware and nearly reached down to touch themself, only at the last second coming to their senses and shoving their hand into their pocket instead. Their hand wrapped around the card.

Right, weed. They needed to do something to calm this all down, and fast.

In the bathroom, they took their phone out and went to the contact info page. They decided to text the number provided.

-- Hey, you left this business card at the bar last night. How much does your guys stuff cost?

How much does your guys stuff cost? What a stupid thing to say. They set the phone down and buried their head in their arms. If only they could unsend text messages.

Only the nuclear option remained. They had to block the number.

As Kent grabbed their phone to do that, it buzzed. The number responded.

-- Hey. Come by sometime and I can show you around. I'm Alec btw.

Kent stared down at the text. Not helpful. Very murder-esque. But when they looked up the address, it actually did seem to be a dispensary. Five stars, even. A bunch of Real heroes and Saved my life and Mindblowing reviews. Maybe it was a physical therapy place, Kent wondered. Or Yoga or something. There wasn't a real website for it but it looked real enough.

Whatever. Kent was feeling just destructive enough to do something stupid today - it was either this, or getting a tattoo on their neck.

Alec. That was his name.

-- Cool. What time works for you?

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The dispensary waiting room was empty when Kent entered. The receptionist looked up smiling warmly. In her pencil cup were assorted pride flags, and one flag like the logo on the card. She took their name and number and gestured to a nearby chair.

"One of our associates will be out in just a moment," she said.

The room was quiet, gentle ambient music playing in the tidy room. The walls had a few floating shelves with assorted human and animal shaped trinkets adorning them. They were engrossed in a miniature sculpture of David when the door opened. Kent locked eyes briefly with a lanky girl in tall converse and a dark skirt who was leaving. She blinked at them once before breaking into the smallest smile and looked away, scurrying out the door but breaking into a skip as soon as she was in the parking lot.

"Kent?" a resonant, gentle voice said, and they startled and turned around. It was the man from the bar again, in a tidy gray button up half tucked into dark skinny pants. Seeing him standing like this, and not slouched over a bar, showed Kent just how broad his shoulders actually were.

Kent hopped up and threw their hand out for a handshake, which the man - yes, his nametag said Alec - graciously took. Kent tried not to think about how fully his hand enveloped theirs.

"This is your first time with us, right?" he said. Kent nodded, and he smiled like they'd done something extraordinary. "Well, let's go in and chat a little, does that sound good?"

"Yeah," Kent said, then, "Yes." Alec smiled.

The room - his office, maybe? Although that sounded too formal - was even cozier than the main waiting room. There was a deep set couch with a throw blanket that Kent immediately threw over themselves, too cozy to pass up. Alec sat in the wooden chair facing them.

"So, Kent," he said, "Tell me a little about yourself?"

This seemed odd, Kent thought, although they'd never been to a dispensary before. They didn't want to seem uncool or something though, not with his eyes so intense on them.

They licked their lips. "Well, you know the bar I work at, and other than that I don't really do a whole lot. I guess I play bass when I can, but I've kinda not had a chance for a while. It's nice to keep my fingers busy." They tapped their fingers on their upper thigh. Not technically NSFW, but closer than they'd be if they were under the blanket. "I'm also 24," they said, "although, you guys didn't card me?"

He laughed. "This isn't a business, we don't need to card you."

"This isn't a business?" Kent asked. "Aren't you a dispensary or something?"

Alec laughed again, just the slightest bit, and leaned forward in his chair. Kent's fingers twitched again. Something about his gaze, almost predatory in its fixation. They pressed into the space between their leg and pelvic bone. That technically wasn't masturbating, right?

"That's a good guess. But no. You're here because you need something, and I have it. Can you guess what it is?"

Kent licked their lips again - fuck, were they starting to salivate - and let their fingers slide to their mound over top of their pants. They thought about how absurd this was, how this couldn't possibly be okay, they should leave or at the very least stop masturbating to this stranger who was trying to convert them to Scientology or something, but -

"Good," Alec murmured, "Very smart."

Like he could see. Kent froze and bit their cheek, mind blanking.

"You can keep going," he said, then when Kent hesitated, continued, "It's okay. The rest of the world is far away, but doesn't this space feel nice?" It did, it was peaceful and felt like bubbles and smelled of incense and something else, something like sweat.

Kent nodded to whatever he had said. He smiled. The bubbling feeling got bigger. They moved their hand tentatively.

"Tell me about yourself," Alec repeated gently. "What do you need? What can we give you?"

A dozen images rose in there mind at once, but none of them would crystallize. What did they need? They needed a different body, but don't start with the impossible. They needed to touch themselves. That's what they could focus on.

"I need to-" they broke off, hand stilling as they stuttered into silence again.

"Do you need to touch yourself?" Alec asked.

Kent shut their eyes but nodded.

"Do it. Touch yourself, Kent."

Kent let out the smallest of whimpers and bit their tongue to silence themselves, slipping their hand into their pants. It was a little too tight but they couldn't be bothered to unbutton them, instead grinding their open hand in a tight circle. Fuck, they were already dragging themselves to the edge of an unsatisfying orgasm.

"Stop," Alec said, and Kent froze. Were they in trouble? "Do it properly. Remove the blanket."

Kent hesitated only for a moment. They were so fucking horny, and this wasn't really real anyway, right? It was some sort of fucked up wet dream, and unfortunately, they were digging it.

They tossed the blanket to the side, toeing their shoes off. "Unbutton your pants," Alec said, and they listened. He smiled at them as they shimmied it down to their knees. "Good, isn't that better?"

Kent nodded, feeling open and vulnerable. They nearly shuddered under that gaze.

"Can you say 'yes'?" he said.

Kent swallowed. "Yes."

"Touch yourself again. Like you were."

Without their jeans, Kent could feel the slick through their boxers. Alec could almost certainly see it too, but he looked so proud, approving as Kent started furiously rubbing their clit through the fabric.

"You poor, needy thing," he said gently, like it didn't make Kent want to impale themselves on whatever he'd offer them. "So horny and desperate. You don't even know how to ask for what you want yet, do you?" Kent shook their head, then nodded, but they mostly had tuned him out. There was nothing but their hand and his eyes. "But we'll help you with that. So try and tell me, what do you want?"