ma, when will my penis grow in?

aggressive posture readjustment, your wrists being held against your lower back until you're stood properly, like a proper man

they're encouraging me to workout more, so that I can lift them up in bed and manipulate their position with ease. "c'mon, I know you can do more push-ups than that. you're a guy, aren't you? act like one. get on the floor and start sweating." once I get strong enough to do multiple pushups on my own, they start pressing down on my back just to make it harder. laugh at me a little when I can't do it, then whisper in my ear about how they want me to get all big and strong so I can fuck them better. which, of course, makes me go a little crazy and push just that little bit further.

after workouts, they admire my body, tracing circles into the sweat on my skin, sizing up my muscles and praising me for the man I'm becoming. they sit me down and pull out my t shot and inject me while the sweat is still cooling. it hurts, but they remind me that pain is part of the process, and it kinda feels good, doesn't it? I'm being such a good boy for taking it without flinching.

The fresh smell of the ocean is harsh on your nose today. You’ve been stuck in this room on a strange ship since you were stolen the other day by this frightening barrage of pirates. You were certain you’d be dead by now, but no.

You want to feel sadness, grief at the loss of the only home you’ve known all these years, but something in you cannot help but feel at ease knowing you will never see them again.

Still, it is confounding that the crew is wasting their supplies on keeping you alive, and you hope it’s not for sinister reasons-

Suddenly the door bursts open and you’re met with the wild gaze of the captain, a wicked smile on his cracked lips. You push yourself into the corner and he laughs at your blatant fear.

“Look! The boy’s scared!” An echo of laughs call behind him but you’re caught on one word boy?

“None to worry lad, we’re not here to hurt you.”

“We’re here to help ye!” Yells out one of the crew members, to the response of cheers and stomping of feet.

“First of all, no pirates gonna be useful in so many layers,” he gestures to your dress as he tosses you a beat up pair of new clothes. You hold up the slightly tattered shirt and a spark flickers in you.

“Second, you’ll need a new name, something that shows yer to be feared!” Everyone begins muttering ideas before the captain throws his hand up to silence them “a man must choose his own name!” He chastises.

You begin to adjust to life as a man of a pirate crew. You come to understand you are not the only one there who has undergone this process of becoming a man. You stay up with them on the deck late into the night and drink. You get your captain drunk enough that he begins explaining his philosophy, to the eye roll of the other members, having heard it all before.

He spins a beautiful tale of the man men around the world, trapped in the confines of the horrors of womanhood. How this world is cruel to women, how the prisons they are trapped in aren’t barred but beautified. Your eyes well with understanding.

Is this anything?

I am gonna say this is a favorite topic of mine, give my blood a scroll through if you like this.

I see you, in there. I have become well acquainted with this look on your face, the plastered on smile you reserve for those who you fear. I see it, and I will crack it. No smile will stop me from seeing what is hiding under your porcelain shell. I see him, and I’m not letting him stay trapped in there.

There’s no way through life without angering people. You might as well have them be angry at the real you, if they’re going to be mad anyway. I know it’s scary, shedding the layers of effort and time given to the ruse that is your life. It feels like too much to stand up for the boy in you. All you’ve known is how to not take up space, how to minimize yourself. It feels like too much to ask everyone to change their view, to understand they have never really known you.