Honest Story

The video begins with the faint sound of rustling. The camera shakes slightly, as if someone is awkwardly holding a phone and trying to adjust it. Quiet taps of fingers on the screen can be heard. Her face comes into frame; she’s slightly frowning and looks tense, checking with her eyes if the recording has started. After a moment, she pulls back a little from the camera, trying to position herself within the frame, adjusts her hair, and looks awkwardly into the lens, taking a deep breath. It’s clear she feels very uncomfortable. Her face is practically marked with anxiety, and tension radiates from every movement she makes.

— "Um… okay, it seems everything’s working…" — she chuckles nervously and rubs her neck, as if trying to gather her thoughts.

She falls silent for a moment, seeming unsure of how to start. Then, as if forcing herself, she lets out a sharp exhale:

— "Well… hi. I, uh… honestly don’t know how to start this video."

Her gaze shifts to the side again, as if she’s wondering if she should even continue. But realizing there’s no going back, she slowly brings her eyes back to the camera, takes a deep breath, and begins to speak with more confidence, though there’s still a hint of shyness in her voice:

— "So… you know me, yeah… You definitely know me, because I’m posting this here, on my Patreon and DeviantArt pages… Yeah, I’m that GreenTG, the one who… um… Damn, I thought this would be easier… There’s just this ironic thing that happened…”

She nervously adjusted her strap, glanced somewhere into the distance, as if seeking support from someone, but she was clearly alone.

— "You remember my stories, right? The ones where I write about all sorts of… well, transformations. About men ending up in women’s bodies, and how it’s always strange, humiliating, funny. Yeah, funny… sometimes it was even really funny…”

She smirked, a smile appeared on her face, but there was a trace of despair in her gaze. It was noticeable. She obviously didn’t want to show weakness, but her eyes began to fill with tears, and despite all her efforts to appear strong, her emotions got the better of her. Her voice trembled, betraying her.

— "So, it seems I now find myself in one of my own stories.”

She laughed loudly, almost theatrically, but her laughter quickly turned into a nervous sob. Her eyes fully teared up, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away, trying not to show vulnerability, but couldn’t hold back and continued, now with a slight, defiant smirk:

— "You remember that story, right? You probably read it, yeah? The one where a guy wishes to become a woman but then can’t change back? I wrote it just a few weeks ago, actually, exactly a week before I posted it online, and well… how should I put this… It’s kinda based on a true story."

She tries to smile, but it comes off more bitter than ironic. Her lips quiver, and her gaze drifts off to the side again, as if it’s unbearable for her to look into the camera.

— "Before writing that story, I did the experiment myself," — a faint smile flickers on her face, only to disappear just as quickly — "I actually said it out loud. Yeah, for real. Just said it… to myself. So, basically, exactly like in the story, down to every thought and feeling. Damn… I just wanted to test my limits — to see if I could say it out loud." She pauses for a couple of seconds, tension hanging in the air, and finally adds, "I, well… I asked to become a woman. Even if only for a little while. And I said it loudly, clearly, seriously. Then I repeated it, again and again, noticing what I felt… And then I sat down and wrote the story. And now…"

She sighs and brushes the strands of hair from her face, like it’s already become a habit.

— "And the next morning I wake up… and see this." — She gestures to herself as if showing proof of her words. — "At first, I thought it was a dream. You know, when everything feels too real, but you get it’s just your mind playing tricks. But no. This isn’t a dream. This is real. This face, this body…"

She goes quiet, trying to pull herself together, but her hands start fidgeting with a pendant around her neck, which seems precious to her. Suddenly, her voice turns firm:

— "After the initial shock, I thought, well, hell with it, I asked for this, right? Seriously, like for a week or two. So, looks like magic’s real, huh? Or something like that?" — She pauses and then breaks into a wide smile — "Oh, I know what you’re thinking, you pervy fantasists. Probably: ‘So, what’s it like — to feel your own tits? Or… well, you get it.’" — She smirks with a hint of sarcasm, her gaze turning sly. — "Not gonna tell you here, don’t hold your breath."

She sighs, as if gathering her thoughts, and her smile becomes less sarcastic, her gaze drifting as if she’s about to say something personal.

— "Alright, I’ll admit it, yes, of course, I tried it. I mean, that’s what this was all for, wasn’t it? Probably… I mean, how could you not try it when suddenly you have… well, all this. And you know what? It turned out nothing like I’d imagined. It’s not just a ‘cool’ experience. It’s… very strange."

She pauses, as if searching for the best way to describe what she felt, and then continues:

— "When you’re usually touching a woman, touching her tits or hugging her, it’s, like… pleasant, exciting, but it’s totally different when it’s your own body. You’re touching what seems like the same thing — same tits in your hand — but it feels completely different. It’s your body, your tits, and instead of excitement, you feel this weird rejection, almost detachment. There’s a sense of that… excitement, right? But it all feels like something foreign… None of it feels like yours. I mean, it’s hard to explain… Even if, technically, it’s now part of you, but it’s…"

She trails off, sighs, and her gaze turns more serious, almost distant, as if she’s mentally revisiting those moments again.

— "You realize it’s your body, but you don’t feel it as your own. Everything feels somehow… foreign…”

Her gaze returns to the camera, and she falls silent, realizing she may have said too much.

— "Honestly, the first day I stayed home, not planning to try out all those… well, ‘girl things.’ Dresses, makeup, walking in heels — all the stuff I’ve always written about in my stories. I didn’t get around to that until the third day, more out of a mix of boredom and fear. I thought, well, okay, I did want to try all this, didn’t I? I guess… It seemed like it should be… you know, fun. Just an experiment.”

Her expression turns pensive again as she continues, recalling the experience:

— "Yeah, I tried all of it. I’m sure you can tell from this video…” — she glanced away, biting her lip slightly, clearly reluctant to elaborate. It was obvious talking about it made her uncomfortable.

— "So, once a week had passed and I was still…” — she hesitated but then continued, trying to keep her tone calm — "…still a woman, I decided maybe I should just post that story, right? Maybe it’d help? No need to hold it back like I’d planned earlier. I’d wished for this nonsense to last a week or two, but the week passed, and that was already a bad sign… So on October 16th, I posted the story, hoping I’d turn back, but nothing happened. Your feedback and comments really supported me. I even ended up talking with one of the followers about fetish, its role, and some thoughts I’d had about all these gender roles, fantasies… It really inspired me, and I wrote a continuation, though not about myself… I was afraid that if I wrote about myself, it would… well… make it all seem real for sure.” She chuckled. “Silly, right? I don’t know, maybe… I didn’t write anything that week, and it felt like I was sinking back into that inspiration…”

She fell silent again, and a thick swallow could be heard as she forced down a lump in her throat.

— "It’s been more than two weeks now… more than three… and…” — she trails off, her gaze drifting to the side as if she’s trying to hide the tension that’s suddenly filled the air. She takes a deep breath, gathering her hair in her fingers, trying to calm herself, only to let it fall again as though discarding an unnecessary habit.

— "And I… I haven’t written in a while. Honestly, nothing at all. Yeah, all those stories you’re seeing now — they were all written before all of this… almost as if not by me. I’m publishing them just as they are, and sometimes I’m even embarrassed to read them, like those aren’t even my thoughts anymore. They feel like they belong to someone else. I… don’t even know if there’ll be any new writing after this video, if there’ll be anything at all. Or if it’s even worth continuing.”

Her face turned serious for a moment; she looked away, trying not to reveal her anxiety, but the tension was there, even through the screen.

— "I thought I could keep going, but writing about things that knock you out of your own reality… It’s kind of… strange. My stories… It’s like they’re now mocking me, you know? And what I’m thinking about now… I don’t even know if it’d be useful or interesting to you, honestly. So… I don’t know.”

She looked at the camera again, as if checking how her words had landed, and for a moment her gaze turned sharper, even bitter.

— "And to be honest, this whole life… here, in Russia, right now… I think you’re all aware of this crap… I used to be scared to say I’m from Russia, but now… what does it even matter, right? But I don’t want to dig into the politics and how much all of it was already getting on my nerves even before this… transformation… And, hell, there’s the paperwork. It’s clear I’ll be dealing with issues soon. Right now, on paper, I’m a person who… doesn’t exist anymore. Well, exists, but doesn’t… So go explain who you are. And if I tell them I’m a guy, would anyone believe it? They’d look at me like I’m out of my mind.” — She falls silent for a moment, realizing how absurd it all sounds. — "In our country right now, with all this noise around traditional values, bans on gender transition, on anything LGBT… Confide in someone, and they’ll just think I’m… well, you know what I mean. And it would only add more problems for me, none of them funny… So I have to keep quiet."

She shifted a little in her chair, trying to change the topic.

— "And… going outside is another story, let me tell you.” — She gave a nervous smile. — “You go out, thinking, ‘I’m dressed in men’s clothes, trying to look as neutral as possible, to blend in.’ You’re walking along, and suddenly someone’s like, ‘Hey, beautiful, maybe a coffee?’ Damn… it’s not even a compliment! When I used to try picking up girls, I put some effort into it, but this guy… turns out there are just idiots everywhere, and I wasn’t even trying to look… damn it, I don’t want to think about it.”

She paused, nervously tapping her fingers on her hand, then continued quietly:

— "And then there’s this ‘miss’ thing constantly. ‘Excuse me, miss.’ ‘Go ahead, miss.’ Sometimes even in the store, they address me that way. People didn’t often say ‘excuse me, sir’ to me before, so why say it now? It’s like they’re pointing right at me with this ‘miss’! I used to laugh at these things in my stories, about characters getting a taste of daily life as a woman, but it’s one thing to write about it happening to someone else, and another to go through it yourself when you want no one approaching you or smiling at you. It’s… creepy. Really creepy. And, oddly enough, even women approach me. They talk. And they say… things that sound like life lessons. Like I should be more feminine, or wonder why I’m dressed like a slob or something…”

She paused briefly, realizing she was going off track, and tried to bring it back to the main point.

— "I know, I know… You’re probably thinking this is some kind of prank, right? A setup, or I don’t know, like there’s an actress sitting here trying to fool you, maybe a filter or something, there’s a lot you could think… You know, I’d probably think the same way. And honestly… I still can’t believe it myself. If someone told me this, I’d definitely think it was either a crazy game or just… some weird performance for attention. Every time I look in the mirror, it seems like a prank or something, like any minute it’ll all just go back… But actually," — she gave a bitter smile and spread her hands helplessly — "I’d be glad if it were a joke. But, sadly, it’s not.”

She lowered her gaze and added softly:

— "Honestly… I don’t know what to do with all of this next," — she said, biting her lip and glancing off to the side. — "It’s just, you know, I wanted to at least get it all out to someone… just get it off my chest. Other people wouldn’t understand any of this, and even now I’m not sure that you… understand. So… here I am, thinking — should I even post this video? I mean, honestly… even I’m not sure how I’d take it if I saw something like this from another writer or artist in this genre. Maybe it’d be simpler to take a couple of photos, which are, well, mine now, add some strange caption like ‘well, this is me now’ and go on with things. Like usual, as if it’s just another story with captions. That way it’ll look like just another character, like it’s just fiction, and no one will think I… that this is real…”

Her voice trailed off, and she fell silent, as if internally debating whether to leave this on the video at all.

— "Hell if I know what’s best… Maybe it really is better… Let this be like a fictional thing, yeah?… Even if someone notices that something’s ‘off,’ no one in real life will think this is all real. They’ll just read it and think I’m still the same as I was… There’d be at least some new material, right?… I just…”

She paused, her gaze turning glassy as though picturing that post and the reactions to it.

— "And if someone starts making stupid jokes… like, 'oh, I'm such a hottie, blah-blah'… Or… or ‘What kind of crap are yo even writing here’…" A tear appeared in her eyes again. "I mean, I don’t even know how to write about all this anymore… I mean, it's not just random fantasies now; it’s something real… Something more than just stories about transformations… My old stories don’t reflect what I feel anymore, you know? Those were just imagination games, not… not my life. And now it’s more than just blog material or some fetish."

She sighed, a sad but slightly relieved smile crossing her face, as if she felt some small relief after all her words.

— “Let this video stay simply as an attempt to speak out. I needed it… if only to talk to someone, even if you never see it. But if I do decide to post it, know this: life sometimes brings you to your knees in the most unexpected places, and only hell or God knows why, but I wouldn’t be myself if I gave up now.”