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Dove Strider was anything but feminine, even as a girl. She would always dress baggy, or loosely, and she would want to hang out with the boys. Well, they wouldn’t let her, mocking her about how she should go do her nails or something. She didn’t like that one bit.
She fought the kids. She would punch, kick, and scream and always get herself into trouble, at the young age of 6. The teachers told her it wasn’t ladylike. She knew it wasn’t.
She knew she had trouble with herself. She knew she didn’t like changing for some reason, or how she shrieked instead of shouted like the other boys. She would practice when home alone, only frustrating herself more. She would move her bobbed hair back to see how her hair was when short. She loved it.
At age 7, Dove knew she was a he, and he used it to himself often. He called himself ‘young man’ or turn his head when people called out for a boy. He would take the boy’s flags when they played games, teachers saying it was a mistake. He would sit on the boys side, ‘accidentally’ walk into the boys bathroom, and more. But he was a kid, it was okay.
When he took it in, he grossed himself out. He felt like god (or his mom? whoever made him) messed up. He felt like there was a mistake and it needed to be fixed, but who cold he tell? He’d sound crazy. Even as much as he trusted his brother, he didn’t even share it on any of his toys.
But when he found out that in the summer they would move, he was excited. He was nervous. He was ready. One day during the first week of summer, Dove went to his brother as he did some adult paperwork. He moved the pen from his hand slowly, indicating this was serious. He came to him like this when he had questions, or something he needed to admit. Bro gladly picked him up and sat him on his lap.
“What’s going on, little sis?” He asked, Dove furrowing his brows and looking down.
“Bro- I don’t wanna be your sis.” He said, looking up to a frowning brother. He quickly shook his head. “No no- I mean like- I wanna be your bro? Not like your friend, I wanna be your brother.” He tried to say, rubbing his face. He couldn’t look at him. “I think god messed me up, Bro. I don’t wanna be a girl anymore, I hate it. I wanna be a boy and I wanna be your bro and get a haircut and all of that, wanna be fixed.” He mumbled, moving to flop himself on his brothers chest and sigh. A minute later, a hand showed up on his back, rubbing it.
“Alright, little bro.”
——
Bro had to buy an apartment, but he couldn’t tell his brother that. He planned to get a house, but if he wanted his brother- who called himself Dave- to be safe and comfortable, he would need just an apartment, just for now, just to get Dave the things he needs.
Dave was glad, though. They met their neighbors who knew him as Dave, never as a female, because Bro cut the boy’s hair the week he admitted to his brother. They found a gender therapist near their apartment and Dave’s been the sweetest boy.
He had to talk to her about his parts and what he thought about them, and a bunch of other things too. He only did it, because he was promised in the future he would be a full boy. He was excited.
At the age of 10, Dave started puberty blockers before anything tragic happened. He was registered at school as David Strider, as a male, but wasn’t allowed to use the boy’s washroom yet. He was okay with it for now, he would go when he was at home anyways.
At the age of 12, the girls in his grade changed. Voice higher, breasts forming, and they jokingly wore makeup, while Dave was happy just watching from afar with his friends, talking about their crushes. Dave didn’t know what he liked yet.
Although, that same year, Dave got little bumps on his chest. He didn’t notice until he was changing one day infront of a mirror, and it made him break down. He ran to his brother shirtless and whined and sobbed to him and telling him what happened. His brother tried to reassure him that it was okay, even some boys got them.
To prove it, Bro removed his shirt to show his brother his pecs, making Dave wipe his eyes and feel them. He sniffled and smiled as he ran his hands over them, giggling after his brother pointed out that his were bigger than Dave’s anyways.
For now, Dave was okay with his chest. It wasn’t until he was 13 when he woke up with a bit of blood on his bed. He screamed and sobbed when he woke up, and even as a growing kid, he was held by his brother as he ranted and mumbled about how ‘it wasnt working’ and he'd ‘never be a boy’. That week, Dave stayed home with his brother taking care of him completely, a furious Bro calling therapists and doctors for his brother.
At 14, Dave got his first shot of testosterone, and he was ecstatic. The blood stopped, the bumps reduced and he was looking better. He was content with himself, and he was happy with where he was. He didn’t tell anyone about his history, because that same year, he legally became David Dirk Strider, and had a lump in his pants. It took some time getting used to, but it was perfect. Bro didn’t mind when his brother sat in the living room in just boxers. He was glad to see his brother with a flat chest, lounging happily.
At 16, Dave got his first girlfriend. They hit it off, made out a bit, and Dave took months before they got intimate. He didn’t dare tell her, only using grinding shirtless as they could. At the last month of their relationship, she admitted she didn’t like vaginas and could never be into it. Dave later on had to end it, and admit the same.
At 17, he got a boyfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. He was accepting, funny, and was generally a happy vibe around Dave. He admitted he was pansexual the first month of them meeting, which got them together. Dave didn’t mind telling the boy about these things. His boyfriend supported him as much as he could. When they got intimate, it took a while for the other to get used to his boyfriend with a flat chest, but a puffed out clit. He still pleasured him like a boy would pleasure his boyfriend. Dave was happy.
At 20, Dave was ready to change his name again, to add another after it. He dedicated a whole day to be with his brother and thank him for everything he gave him in life, everything he’s done, because if it weren’t for Dirk Strider, Dave would be unhappy and uncomfortable.
At 21, Dave Strider was a boy, inside and out. He had friends to support him, a loving husband, and the happiest life he could imagine.