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So you got isekai'd into this trippy city with a couple of people. You were walking around with them for a while, but then you got sidetracked because of your damn undiagnosed ADHD and started running around to look at a bunch of pretty glowing signs. Now you're lost and alone.
You don't usually mind being lost and alone, but the issue is that you're lost and alone in a city as a "woman." That's like playing on hard mode. You aren't actually a woman, of course, but people on the street don't know that lore.
You decide to turn into an alleyway because you hear a police car on the road and you're scared you might have finally been found out for that fraud you were committing. They probably wouldn't care about real-world fraud in this weird internet land, but better safe than sorry.
Lo and behold, a disgusting short man is in the alley! He peers at you from a trash dumpster, where he probably lives.
"HEY EVERY ! YOU SEEM TO BE A [[Respectable Young Man]], DoN'T YOU???"
You stand there, stunned into silence. To all appearances, you look like a woman.
"HAHAHAHAHHAA!!!! I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR [Soft Glowing Orbs]. YOU WANT TO [[Day Trade]] THOSE [Dresses] FOR [Messes], YES YOU DO!!!"
Spamton goes over to his dumpster and pulls out a 1mL single-use vial of 200mg/ml testosterone cypionate, a sterile syringe, a sterile 22 gauge needle, a sterile 25 gauge needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol and multiple clean cotton pads.
"IT'S T1ME FOR YOU'RE [[Interjection]]!! COURTESY OF THE [[Ruler]] [Of Only] SPAMTON G SPAMTON!"
You finally find your voice, which you hate. In a feeble and frankly pathetic attempt to sound slightly androgynous, you ask in a quiet tone, "How could you tell?"
Spamton looks you clear in the eyes. "WE CAN ALWAYS TELL."
Spamton lunges onto you like he's a wild animal, knocks you over and pins you to the ground. You're not shorter than him, but your estrogen-dominant hormone system has rendered you powerless against Spamton's testosterone-dominant one. Your skull was cracked from the impact of hitting the concrete, but that's not really a big deal.
"Spamton-chan, inject me!!!" you cry with all the gusto your bright, animated, high-pitched voice can muster.
"[[Litigation]]" he responds.
Spamton cleans the top of the vial with rubbing alcohol, attaches the larger needle to the tip of the syringe, and carefully draws up a reasonable dose of 200mg/ml testosterone cypionate. He then detaches the needle and disposes it into his nearby sharps container before attaching the smaller needle.
"THE TWO BEST PLACES FOR SUBCUTANEOUS HORMONE INJECTIONS TEND TO BE THE STOMACH AND THE OUTER UPPER THIGHS. I'M GOING TO INJECT YOU IN THE LEFT THIGH, BUT YOU CAN INJECT IN ANY OF THOSE PLACES AND IT'LL STILL WORK. YOU SHOULD ALSO ROTATE INJECTION SITES, AT LEAST A LITTLE, INSTEAD OF STICKING THE EXACT SAME PLACE EVERY TIME."
You nod, rapt. You wish you could kiss him and ask him to bear your children, but the blood is pooling behind your head from your cracked skull so you decide to preserve your energy.
Spamton uses the alcohol to clean a small portion of skin on your left thigh, near the top. He then injects the syringe into that area at a 45 degree angle with the pointy part going in first. After slowly injecting the sweet nectar into the area right under your skin, he removes and disposes of the syringe while applying pressure to the site with a clean cotton pad. After a minute or two, he removes it.
"Thank you!"
"I'M A BIG SHOT!" Spamton replies.