I always feel like people are out to get me. I have this deep fear that, if I so much as turn a corner, someone will pop out from behind with a BB Gun just to shoot me in the leg. I’m not prepared for that. It’s hard enough living in a society where there’s always a danger of being attacked just for who you are, even with superheroes slowly coming out of the woodwork now.

It’s always the same story, some billionaire hotshot gets his dick in a pretzel knot because some of his employees are like “hey, can you like, pay us more than $6 dollars an hour?”, says no, then doubles down before someone like Quantum Brain breaks into his office and beats the living shit out of him. I mean, to be fair, billionaires deserve whatever happens to them from this point forward, but it’s tiring at this point. It’s not even like any of these billionaires are becoming superheroes themselves, anyway. There aren’t a whole lot of superheroes out there, and the most prominent billionaire in the city was thrown in jail a couple weeks back. But billionaires aren’t the only evil out there that needs defeating.

Sorry for the rant, sometimes I tend to get sidetracked by the state of the world. I should at least introduce myself, as this is my story and all. My name is Serenity Eden. I know my name’s beautiful, I chose it myself. 

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I’m just an ordinary adult girl. I work at the Movieplex in downtown Seattle, the one near Pike Place. I play a lot of video games, I own a stuffed shark from a furniture store named Frosty, I really like the color pink, and I have a dick. I’d like to get that out of the way first, just so whoever is reading this can decide whether or not they want to continue. Oh, and the levels of queerness in this tale goes beyond just me so if that isn’t your thing, you might as well just stop reading right now. Put the book, tablet, laptop, or whatever you’re reading this on down and go do something else. Shoot a gun at a wild coyote, listen to Kid Rock, or cry. I don’t really care. This story isn’t for you.

For everyone who’s still around, let me begin by saying that this story isn’t going to be what you’re expecting it to be. There’s no romance. There’s no moral to be learned. This is just what happened to me, personally, I’m an adult, I got my own life, my own job, my own perspective on things. Some fucked up stuff happened to me, and that’s what I’m going to tell you, so as long as you’re okay with human rights for all, you’ll be alright. 

Now for the juicy details: how it all started. You see, while I am an adult woman, not everyone sees me as such. I still get side-eyed by people at the Movieplex who suspect they’ve clocked me. I still deal with my fair share of chasers and transphobes. Usually I just tell them that I’m cis and they’ll shut the fuck up, but there’s always that one person who’s willing to do far more damage than they should ever have been able to do.