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The beach was hot and uncomfortable, and Carter had soon come to hate it. The rest of the family was off doing their own thing, building sand castles or swimming around in the ocean just a few yards away. He sat in a foldable chair under the shade of the large umbrella, looking rather amused by it all.
"Come on, kiddo." His head snapped to the side, and he looked up.
Cry patted him on the shoulder, gesturing towards the ocean, asking him to get out there. Carter rolled his eyes before casting his eyes out towards the water. Troy was running around with uncle Kai, the two of them tackling each other and forcing each other under the waves.
"Get out there and have some fun!" Cry tried again, frowning when Carter looked away, his eyes seemingly transfixed on something else on the beach. Cry followed his gaze, watching as his son's eyes traced a group of girls who were playing volleyball further down the beach.
"Hm." Cry hummed, ruffling Carter's hair with a smirk. He chuckled as his son turned to frown at him, hands already going up to fix the mess of his hair.
"Well, don't mope under the shade for too long." Cry snorted, making his way out to the water.
And then he was saying something else, but was too far away for Carter to hear him. He watched as his father swam out to sea, leaving him alone under the shade. The shadow helped combat the heat, but the fact that he was in a full-sleeved rash-guard did not help ventilate at all. But it did help hide the way his body looked.
His eyes scanned all the other girls that they shared the beach with. His eyes traced their silhouettes and found himself wishing he shared the same. This heat was killing him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, finally getting some relief from the heat.
'Just don't look down.' He told himself. He tilted his head back as he relaxed his jaw, content to fall asleep then and there. His mind drifted off, and he thought back to all the others on the beach with him. Others with bodies that he didn't have.
He thought of himself with a thinner waist, narrower shoulders, and hair that cascaded down past his shoulders. He supposed he could always just ask his dad for all these different body changes, but…
He sighed, opening his eyes as he stared up at the umbrella that blocked the sun.
It wasn't normal, was it? To want all these changes. He was made, deliberately created with all these design choices, not left up to random chance. He growled, closing his eyes as he tried to chase away all these thoughts that clouded his processor.
His thoughts were cut out as he was drenched.
Troy stood over him, grinning like the little shit he was. In his hand was a bucket, the white-haired nindroid laughing at the look on his face. Carter coughed out the water, feeling as grains of sand stuck to his tongue, face, and got stuck in his hair.
"Y—" Troy didn't even get a chance to speak before Carter grabbed a wet clump of sand and chucked it at his face. The dirt impacted the side of his head, dirtying his bright white hair. Troy blinked for a few seconds before his expression changed.
"Hey! I just washed this!" Troy snapped, tossing his bucket to the side before he grabbed Carter's ankles. In one swift movement, he pulled his brother off the chair, Carter hitting the sand with a resounding thud.
The two of them wrestled in the sand, getting dirt and grime all over one another. Carter bit down on Troy's ankle hard, the white-haired teen yelping before grabbing fistfuls of sand and smothering all over his brother; in his hair, face, and mouth.
"Alright, cut it out, you two." Cry had strolled up to them again, rolling his eye as Kai chuckled from beside him. Troy pouted as Carter spat out sand.
"Kinda wanted to see who would win." Kai joked, shrinking away when Cry glared at him. "Sorry."
"He started it." Troy pointed at his brother underneath him.
"You poured water on me!"
"Well, you threw sand at me first!"
"Boys, boys!" Cry pinched the bridge of his nose. Carter faltered a bit at the term, but Cry was turning away before he had a chance to catch it.
"It's getting late. Let's pack up. And the two of you need a shower."
Carter was looking at himself in the mirror now, his hair still positively caked with wet sand. He had shaken most of it off outside, but grains were visible through his strands and decorated his plating like freckles.
He reluctantly got into the shower, closing his eyes as he turned the water on and let it run down his body.
He rinsed sand out of his hair, lathering everything up and giving it a quick rinse; anything to get this shower done with sooner. His hair must've still had some leftover suds as he opened the glass sliding door and stepped out, trying to dry himself as fast as possible so he could avoid looking at himself.
He slipped on a loose hoodie and a pair of sweats, wrapping the towel around his head and trying to ignore how the ends of the towel came down past his shoulders like hair.
Two weeks later, Carter stumbled into his room, the world around him becoming muffled; the only thing he could hear was the sound of static. He was quick to shut the door, pressing his back against it as he slid to the floor, hugging his knees close to his chest.
He took a deep breath, then another, before he tilted his head back and let out a sharp exhale. He scanned the room for a few moments, gathering his bearings before he reluctantly got off the ground. He groaned as he made his way over to the bed, collapsing into it before he turned to stare up at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut.
'Tomorrow will be different,' he told himself, ignoring the way he felt like his body was burning, being so aware of each nook and cranny of his form that it felt like he was being eviscerated. He opened his eyes and raised his hands to his face, eyes tracing the seams where plates joined together.
He swung his feet off the bed and got up, making his way to the dresser. He opened each drawer, examining the contents inside. Neatly folded clothes stared back at him, and he gingerly took some out. Bit by bit, the pile of fabric inside the dresser got smaller and smaller, revealing a garment bag that lay at its bottom.
He pulled it out before he set out on his bed, unzipping it to reveal a well-polished suit, the one set aside for formal events. He took a deep breath as he slipped it off the rack, taking another deep breath as the very tasteful patches of sequins and rhinestones on the fabric caught the dim light and caused it to shimmer. He carefully slipped the jacket on, taking a deep breath as he approached the mirror.
He fished in the pockets of the suit jacket, pulling out the black tie he kept in there. He was already wearing a white shirt, saving him the torturous process of taking it off to put on a dress shirt and risking catching a glance of the body underneath.
Flimsy hands looped the fabric around his neck, tying the tie with some effort, and he stood back a bit as he stared wildly at himself in the mirror. He ran a shaky hand through his hair in an effort to make himself look more presentable.
He looked good.
And he hated it.
In hindsight, he regretted buying a full-length mirror. His eyes traced his figure, all the wrong sharp edges and curves the plating gave to his form, his eyes wild as he stormed up to the offending piece of glass. He gripped the two sides in his hands, staring at himself as he thought for a few moments.
He pulled, and the mirror came clean off the wooden door, leaving adhesive strips behind. He struggled under the weight for a few moments before opening his closet door. He tried to slide the mirror into place, turning it horizontally as he tried to hide it in the deep recesses of the small dark room.
It was too big, too long to fit against the back wall. He struggled with it a few more times, trying to put it in diagonally or turning it so it could simply rest on the ground face down.
Nothing.
He gripped one end of the mirror, holding it taut to keep its tension.
He brought down a shoe against it. With a resounding crack, the mirror gave way, bending under the impact. He stomped on it a few more times before it broke in half, and he was finally able to fit it into the back of the closet, burying it under boxes and clothes before he shut the door. He was quick to rip the rest of the evidence off his closet door, not caring how the adhesive tape started to peel the paint or didn't come off cleanly.
He stumbled back, examining his work. The mirror was gone, and he no longer saw himself. He sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at the empty spot where the glass once was. He let out a deep breath he didn't know he had been holding, burying his face deep in his hands.
The tie, now affected by gravity, tapped his forearm.
Carter gripped the loop of the tie that was around his neck and pulled, not bothering to untie it the proper way. There was a strain as the fabric was stretched past its limit, a snap as it disconnected. He flung it across the room, not even caring where it landed.
He got up and tore the suit off him like it was on fire, gritting his teeth as he struggled with the sleeves, the article of clothing suddenly feeling like it was clinging to him like glue.
He reached forward with a fist and tore at the sequins, the small beads and stones clattering against the ground as they now lacked the threads to keep them connected. He let out a frustrated cry as he tossed the suit; the clothing landed in a rather undignified heap in the corner. He shoved the rest of the clothing he had taken out into his dresser, slamming the drawers shut as he now stood in the centre of his room, breathing heavily as he attempted to calm himself down.
A pause.
"…fuck." He groaned.
Carter took a deep breath as he walked down the hallways of the mall, wearily glancing at the different billboards and digital displays, pretty girls dolled up in jewellery and colourful fabrics. He grumbled as he looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He stopped just outside a shop, swallowing the lump in his throat as he walked through the door.
"Hey!" One of the workers was immediately on him, approaching him at a rapid rate. "Looking for anything in particular?"
"Uhm- no." Carter shook his head. "Just browsing."
"That's fine. Let me know if you need help, okay?" She wandered off now, back to folding clothes and taking note of inventory.
Carter was suddenly acutely aware that he was the only customer in the shop. He supposed that it made sense, since it was the early morning on a Tuesday. He wandered over to racks of long-sleeved shirts and jeans, designed for his broad shoulders and flat hips. He took some off the rack, not even bothering to look them over to see if they were anything he would consider wearing.
He glanced over at the worker, slipping away when her back was turned, wandering to the section of the shop he never dared to set foot into. His hands explored soft fabrics, brightly coloured clothing made of cashmere and silk.
He took his time, grabbing things off shelves and racks, hiding them in his arms under the previous clothes he had picked before. His head spun with all the different outfit combinations he could put together.
And—
He stopped in front of a mannequin, staring up at the satin dress draped around its body, a dark black that held a deep purple hue when the light hit it at the right angle.
It was stunning.
He imagined what it must be like to sit on his own skin, imagining the way the fabric would swish as he spun.
He risked a glance back at the worker, noting she was still occupied with her work. He grabbed the dress that was his size off the rack before slipping into the changing room without anyone else noticing.
He opened a door and staggered in, his core already racing. He fumbled with the lock as he clicked it shut, wiggling the door as he tested to see if the lock would hold. He hung the clothes he wanted to test on the hook, leaving the rest as a pile on the ground.
He got to work.
Carter took a breath as he finally stared at himself in the mirror. He had taken most of his old clothes off, now donning the white dress-shirt he wore to the mall, jeans and shoes gone as a pleated burgundy skirt sat high on his hips.
He risked it and swayed his waist, watching as the fabric swished around him in a circular motion.
Something in his chest loosened.
He couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He posed in the mirror a bunch, pulling the dress shirt off as he put himself into a low-crop white sweater.
He tried piece after piece, beaming as he imagined himself in each outfit, walking around outside as he pranced in high-rise loose jeans that accented the curves of his body or a skirt that would sway as he walked.
His hands paused once they came to the dress.
He took a deep breath before he unzipped the back.
It took a bunch of wrangling, as Carter had never worn a garment that zipped up from the back, but he got it done in the end. He adjusted the inner waistband and the chest piece so it sat as comfortably as it would on his body, taking a deep breath as he finally looked at himself.
His mouth dropped open.
He looked… pretty. Beautiful, even. The dress cascaded down his form perfectly, if Carter chose to ignore the parts where it pinched awkwardly due to his poor posture. A slit ran down the side, exposing one of his thighs, and Carter stuck his leg out.
He giggled, giddy and excited. He remembered there was some silver jewellery being sold at the front of the store, which would go great with his current outfit. He unlatched the door, ready to jog out just to make a quick trip before coming back—
He slammed the door shut on himself as reality sank in. He stood in the fitting room, suddenly more aware than he had ever felt, feeling raw and exposed. The parts of his body that the dress didn't cover felt hot to the touch, tingling like they were under a hurtful, watching eye.
Joy melted away until it was replaced by shame.
His head turned, and he looked at himself reflected in the mirror.
He kept staring, like he was trying to burn the image of himself in that dress into his brain.
He tore the garment off him like it was actively on fire, it landing on a heap beside him.
No, it wasn't enough. He wanted to tear more off. He wanted to tear the plating off his form, pulling each piece off his body until there was nothing left.
He wanted to resculpt himself until he wasn't himself anymore.
He put his old clothes on, ignoring how they felt weighted and heavy, the taste of freedom now sour on his tongue. He carefully slipped all the clothes back onto their hangers, zipping all of them back neatly to avoid any damage.
He looked around the small room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. He walked out of the fitting room like he was put on the planet for the purpose of escaping clothing shops quickly.
"Find anything you like?" The employee was by the returns rack, clearing space on the table for the clothes he was carrying out.
"No." Carter blurted out rather quickly and roughly, causing her to blink at his tone.
He dumped the pile on the table, turning around and walking away before she had even started to sort the items. He hid himself in the collar of his jacket as he stuck his hands into his pockets and exited the shop.
He cut his hair shorter. The black strands that fell just above his ears now sat just on top of his head. He swapped out his more ornate earrings for simpler silver studs.
He no longer borrowed Troy's more fancy rings, the ones with multiple gems or fancy flourishes carved into their sides.
He got a new suit; no more shiny sequins or rhinestones. His closet got more boring- Troy had noted- now consisting of dark blues and browns and a bunch of blacks and grays.
He drowned himself in things that would force these thoughts from his mind. He tore punching bags and worked his body until it hurt, anything to stop his mind from thinking. A pair of headphones became glued to his head, blasting music, anything to stop thinking.
"Kiddo." Cry had approached him one day. Carter froze, eyes trained on his father like a hawk, preparing for what he was about to say next.
"Are you… okay?" Cry leaned on the back of the chair that was in front of him, leaning into Carter's space. Carter frowned but said nothing more, fiddling with the headphones in his hands awkwardly. Cry blinked before he backed away, giving his son some room to breathe.
"I'm fine." Carter snapped, quickly.
Cry mulled over his own thoughts for a second, trying to think of what to say next.
"You've been losing your colour." Cry tilted his head to the side.
"I just wanted to try a new style."
"And you've been working out a lot more."
"Maybe I just want to keep my body moving."
Cry huffed, trying to pick apart his son, but Carter was not giving him any leeway. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he paused and closed it once again. Carter watched him, pretending to be uninterested, as Cry thought over his next words.
"Well… alright. But if anything is bothering you… you can come to me."
"Yeah, I know."
"…I hope so." Cry turned and hesitated before he decided to leave him alone, Carter watching him as he left.
Carter groaned as he collapsed onto the table, his core racing.
'He knows.' The words replayed themselves in his mind over and over.
He had to make these thoughts go away.
He had to fix this.
He found himself back on that beach again.
It was mid-autumn, which meant he was the only one there. His bag was discarded further up the shore, his shoes sinking into the sand as the waves lapped at him.
He had just come out here for a jog, but found himself standing and staring out into the horizon.
The water was beautifully clear, Carter had noticed, as he squatted down to feel the coolness on his hand. It was a pleasant cold against his body, a welcome feeling after his workout.
He stared at himself in the reflection of the water.
His muscle shirt allowed him to see his defined arms, the article of clothing tight on his body as it highlighted his broad chest.
He was suddenly so aware of how exposed he was.
No sweater, no long sleeves. He had put on the short-sleeved shirt to avoid feeling hot and uncomfortable as he ran, but now it was feeling as if it was doing the opposite.
'No no no…' He shook his head, driving all these thoughts out of his mind. He was doing so good, he was doing so good…
This wasn't going to change.
His mind thought back to that moment in the mall, however many months ago. The brief surge of joy of the memory of those outfits being stamped out by shame as Carter pressed his hands to the side of his face and squeezed.
He glanced at his reflection again, looking like a version of himself farthest from what he knew. A stranger in his own body, almost like a prisoner sentenced to imprisonment, with his body as the cell.
His life was slipping through his fingers, and he was just watching it pass him by.
Everything tipped over.
Carter opened his mouth and screamed.
He hunched over and sat down in the sand, hands coming up to claw and tear at his own hair. He cried as he screamed his throat raw, his voice box glitching out as he did. Fists slammed into the ground repeatedly, punching into the sand until his knuckles hurt.
He was living a lie.
He sobbed violently as he clawed at his arms, his face, his body, anything he could get his hands on, wishing he could just mould himself into whatever shape he wanted.
"SOMEBODY HELP ME!" He screamed, tearing at his own scalp and hair until it stung, wishing he could pull it longer. The world distorted through his tears, and his body felt oddly disconnected from his mind.
He thought of himself, in that fitting room, dolled up in fabrics and beautiful sequins.
He thought of himself, with longer hair that fell beautifully down his back, stunning, delicate jewelry adorning his body.
He thought of himself with curves in just the right places, perfectly accentuating his chest, hips, and thighs in the ways he wanted.
He wasn't sure how long he had cried for, but the next time he focused on reality, he was lying on his side, curled up in the sand. He made a mental note to do the laundry when he got back, before picking himself up off the ground.
"I'm a girl." She finally admitted, and it seemed to lift a large weight off her chest. She stared out into the distance for a few moments, the declaration feeling new on her mouth. She giggled a bit at the confession.
She sat on the beach for however long, imagining a life where things were different. She would pick herself off the beach, and the wet sand would be tangled in her long hair, or she would complain that her new dress was smeared with dirt.
The sun had begun to set when she finally hiked the small distance back to her bag, picking it up off the ground as she began the walk home.
The trek back home was torturous, clouded with thoughts, but it passed by soon enough. She needed to tell someone, anyone. Maybe her dad, since he could start the process of changing her body.
But what would he think? What would he say? She doubted he'd have a negative reaction… but what if? To go against how she was built and coded, to throw it away to live something new? She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, her mind replaying all these scenarios over and over.
She wandered through the front door, taking note that Cry was on the couch, watching some sort of television show.
"Hey, kiddo, you've been out quite a while." Cry turned his head to greet her. "How was the jogggggg…"
She was now acutely aware that she was caked with sand, and she looked down. The muscle shirt she wore was dirtied beyond belief, looking like she had rolled around in a bunch of mud before she came home.
"I fell." She explained, hoping it made sense. Cry scanned her up and down before pressing his mouth into a line and shrugging, accepting the answer for the time being.
"Okay. Are you hurt?" His face relaxed once Carter shook her head no. "Alright. Go get cleaned up. And put the clothes in the hamper."
She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it.
"Okay." She said quickly instead, speaking quickly to avoid hearing her own voice.
She made her way up the stairs and into the bathroom fast, avoiding the way Cry's eyes followed her on the way up. She washed up quickly enough, changing into a fresh pair of clothes and tossing the dirty ones in the hamper before she exited the bathroom.
She made a beeline for her room, turning around to shut her bedroom door as she entered.
Cry's hand came in and stopped her. He gripped the edge of the door and pushed it open once more.
She blinked before she froze in place. Cry wandered in, now standing in the doorway.
"What's wrong, kiddo?"
'What wasn't wrong?' Carter wanted to scream. She had so much to say that she wanted to yell out, to get it out of her chest.
"W- what do you mean?" Carter shrugged, her voice betraying her expression. Cry narrowed his eye, closing in. Carter backed up, eyes darting around as she looked for an out.
"You come back home late, looking like you rolled around in the filth outside," Cry explained, advancing as she backed up into the deeper recesses of her bedroom. "And you've been crying."
"I haven't been crying." Carter blurted out rather quickly, and Cry shook his head, pressing his mouth into a line.
"Don't lie to me, son, I know that look."
Carter cringed at the word 'son' but said nothing more. She stared down at her feet, suddenly becoming very interested in the wood tiles of her bedroom floor. The two of them stood in silence for however long, Cry waiting for Carter to say something and vice versa.
"Kiddo." Cry leaned down so they were eye level. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. He watched as her jaw tightened and her expression became cloudy. He watched as she stewed in her thoughts, struggling to come up with the right words.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Cry tried again.
Carter squeezed her eyes shut.
"You wouldn't get it."
"Try me." Cry's voice was dead serious now.
'Get it over with.'
"Okay. I… uhm…"
"Yes?"
"Would it be okay if… I asked for a change?"
"A change?" Cry tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Like… a body change. Like wh-what if I-I-I wanted to look…different?" Carter stammered out, wringing her hands together. Cry stared at her for a few seconds, stepping back as he examined her up and down. Thoughts were swirling in his mind at a mile a minute, before something in his mind finally clicked as everything fell into place.
The wardrobe changing into more neutral colours, and the shorter haircut. The fact that Carter no longer wore those sparkly piercings he seemed to love so much, changing into studs no bigger than a small bead, almost as if he wanted to hide them.
"Carter…" Cry started, sitting down on the edge of her bed, watching as his child stood stock still in the centre of the room. Carter's hands were held at her sides in fists, her whole body trembling ever so slightly.
"Okay. What were you envisioning?" He gently prodded.
"Uhhh…" Carter clammed up even more. How was she supposed to tell her dad about all these changes she wanted without being embarrassed? She was now the only girl in the house, would Cry even understand?
A pause.
"Maybe a different hairstyle?" Cry suggested, trying to start the conversation, tilting his head to the side. "I could change your overall silhouette as well, if you so wanted."
Carter snapped her head up, looking hopeful but almost not believing what he said. Cry got up off the bed, approaching his kid with his arms open. She blinked as Cry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him.
Something in her broke.
She sagged against her father, hands grabbing up and clawing at his back. Her face contorted as she let out a hitched wail, beginning to cry freely into his shoulder. Cry made a sad noise, one hand going up to gently caress her hair.
"Oh… kiddo. You're okay. I've gotcha…"
"Dad…" Carter sobbed, crying loudly. Cryptor moved backwards, guiding them to sit down on the bed. She continued to cry, rubbing at her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of tears.
Cry lost count of how long they sat on the bed, holding one another, but soon enough, the shaking of Carter's shoulders slowed to a stop, and he pulled away, wiping a tear off his child's cheek. Carter took a few more deep breaths, Cry sitting and waiting patiently once it was clear she wanted to talk.
"I- I don't want to be a man anymore." Carter blurted out once she had gotten her crying under control. Cryptor pressed his mouth into a line before he nodded once.
"Okay. What does that look like?"
"Uhm." Carter had not thought of this. All that she knew was that she was a girl, but she never really thought about what that might entail. She creased her brows, thinking back on everything that had led up to this one moment.
"I… I'm a girl." Carter started. Beside her, Cry nodded, motioning for her to keep speaking.
"I- I don't know. Uhm. A wardrobe change? Longer hair, and… maybe I could be less… broad." She rubbed her arms, and Cry understood immediately what she meant.
"That can be arranged." Cry nodded, already noting those down in his mind. "I'd assume you'd want me to call you…something else? Refer to you… differently?"
Carter blinked a bit, suddenly feeling ten times lighter. She blinked as she looked up at Cry, unable to stop the big, stupid grin that melted onto her face.
"You're… taking this really well."
Cry shrugged.
"Meh… I thought you got into a fight or something while out there. This? This is nothing."
"Thanks, Dad." Carter had run out of things to say, exhausted from her outburst on the beach and her recent stress cry. Cry smiled before he nodded, reaching over and messing up her hair purposely. Carter made a noise in protest, her hands going up to smooth it out.
"No problem, kiddo." And suddenly Carter was hugging him again, tightly. Cry smiled softly, hands wrapping around her and squeezing her tightly, listening as his child began to purr in his arms.
It was going to be a long night.
But that's okay. He wouldn't trade it for the world.