Mortified in the Mire(MtF/F, Drama, Emotional, Modern, Trigger Warning)

[Solrex]

Trigger Warning: This story contains elements and themes of (but is not limited to): antagonistic transphobia, depression, heavy emotional content, transgender, lack of names, and more. If one of those things is extremely triggering to you, consider having a close friend read it first to see if it is suitable for you.

Author’s Note:

So, last night I just was doing anything as usual, except writing QS stories, because writer’s block sucks. However, an idea from who knows, the idea fairy, passed one by me. Just like how I build MtG decks, play splendor, and do a few other things, I set up a few cornerstone pieces for the idea, and everything fell into place. The first line of the story was indeed the first line I wrote.

Personally, is this a good story? It’s short, but I would argue so. Is it upsetting? Well, I would say it’s emotional, but if that’s something stopping you from reading it, just give it a shot. Is it offensive? Possibly, but I enjoyed how it turned out. Did I put a lot of effort into writing it? Well, when you have an idea late at night past midnight, and you want to finish it before you go to sleep, but go over it a few times to fix details, that adequately describes the effort I put into it.

If I was recommending this story to a clone of myself, would I encourage them to read it? Absolutely fricking yes! I made it with passion.

Did you draw upon real life for inspiration? Partially. Some bits are inspired from some IRL things, others are completely fictional. Which are which, I won’t say. It would take too many footnotes.

Should I read it? YES!!! The story is in italics below, just enjoy! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it. If you disliked it, also feel free to comment. I am fully open to criticism, I consent to hearing what I did badly so I can improve.

Without further ado, enjoy:

“You can’t be a girl, you weren’t born that way!”

As the mud is thrown humiliatingly at my dress, I think how I got to this point. It started long ago.

Several years ago, I remember putting on my sister’s blue dress, which came down to my knees, but didn’t cover much of my arms, while she wasn’t home. I loved the way it fit on me, and I remember spinning in it, and feeling amazing. It also made me feel something else that I didn’t understand at that age.

Eventually, my sister caught me, but she told me that I needed a wig to complete the look. It was our secret, as secret sisters. I bought the wig online with PayPal through my debit card, and received it in the mail.

My sister taught me how to apply makeup, but I enjoyed the feeling of her applying it to my face, a face I had to hide from most of the world.

We also did other things, like mud masks for our skin, which were nice. She did my nails, which made them beautiful. We waxed our hands together, and the feeling of it was wonderful, especially peeling it off. She took care of me.

Watching tutorials on the Internet, I even learned to do a female voice.

On my 18th birthday, my sister spent a lot of money on a surprise for me, a beautiful expensive gown, a very realistic wig that had hidden straps to securely latch onto my head, clip on earrings, and everything to truly show who I was! She invited me to come out in public to the bar down by the swamp and just be myself. I changed my preferred name just slightly to be feminine instead of masculine.

We were having drinks, enough to be tipsy, but nothing more. We also had fun, and everything else. A man had looked at me more than a few times. He walked over to the balcony that overlooked the swamp, back to the bar, and such. I was too busy with my sister to notice.

And that’s how I got here.

Splat.

My dress!!! Mud had come out of nowhere and ruined it! I begged to fate that it would wash out. I cried out femininely. “Why would you do that? My sister spent so much on this dress!” I started bawling. My sister glared at the man.

“You’re a fake! You’re not a girl, you’re a man wearing a dress to take advantage of people!” the assaulter demeaned at me.

I was appalled. This was who I wanted to be! I spent so much time, effort, and money trying to be what made me feel happy. I felt a stirring in my groin as the mud soaked through my dress.

“See? That’s not a vagina, that’s a dick! You’re a fake! You’re a monster!”

My sister was red in the face, both with horror and silent anger, but I had enough. I spoke up, “I can be whoever I want to be. If I was born in the wrong body, I can change to be who I want!”

The perpetrator’s retort came coldly. “You can’t be a girl, you weren’t born that way!” he spoke with anger, throwing more mud at my dress, “Abominations like you should not exist!”

My sister whispered to me, “We should go, I’m so sor-“

I pushed her away. I stomped towards the man at the balcony, ready to punch him. I winded up a big punch, and slammed towards him, the moonlight of the full moon blinding me. But he was not there, he stepped out of the way. I fell forward with momentum, falling through the rope railing, and past the sign that said “Danger: Do not jump off the dock, deep mud, drowning hazard.” As I fell through the rope railing, I splattered into the mud up to my knees and elbows. Despite my horrible evening, the slimy feeling of the mud soaking into me made my boner only tighter. I was not wearing underwear or leggings or shorts under the dress tonight.

Before I could even attempt to get up, the perpetrator looked out to me, “See? This is where you belong, with the filth! You filthy useless waste of a man, no, boy!” Turning to the crowd, he spoke, “Don’t help him, he is a freak, a useless-“

My sister had walked up behind him and hit him with a chair, knocking him out cold. She spoke up, “Sis, are you alright?”

I was just paralyzed with fear, disgust, confusion, and even worse! The mud had sucked me up to my mid thighs and lower shoulders, the midpoint between my elbows and shoulder tops, the thick slimy weight of the swampland hugging my body in my only comfort right now; the only comfort I could feel now was the slimy muck that accepted me for what I was, slime, mucus, sludge, muck; worthless. I had opened up my true, vulnerable self and it was struck down. I had lost my will to do anything right now.

“SIS! Are you alright?!?!?” My sister called out to me again. I finally mustered up my voice, too shaken to speak female, I spoke in a deep voice, “I am an abomination, I don’t deserve to live, I should just drown in this bog. I should have never tried on your dress when I was younger, it wasn’t for me.”

My sister cried out, “No, please! Our parents only gave birth to two of us, and when they gave birth to you, I was disappointed you were male. When you became my sister, I was so happy! You mean so much to me! Please!” My sister looked around, took out a pocket knife, cut the railing, and tossed a rope out to me. I refused to take it as I sank up to my armpits and just below my groin in the heavy slimy mucky sludge that made up the bog in our hometown.

The only comfort I felt right now was in this filth. I belonged here, and it felt nice to be in. I retorted to my sister, “This is where I perish, sister, I don’t deserve to live.” I had given up much earlier this night my will to use my female voice, crying now with my shaky male voice.

“Grab the rope! Please! I don’t want to lose my sister! My only sister! My best friend!” my older sister was bawling her face off, hot tears streaming down her face. She spoke, again, “You know you’ll just float because of buoyancy, right? Just grab the rope, please!”

Shaking, my bones vibrating in the full moon’s light, I spoke, “If that’s the case, I must force myself under.” I then started humping the mud, pleasuring my stupid dick for one last time and forcing myself deeper, sinking into my despair and shame.

“PLEASE!!! JUST GRAB THE ROPE! EVEN IF YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE GARBAGE RIGHT NOW, YOU ARE MY GARBAGE, AND I LOVE YOU. BUT YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT!” My sister wailed out to me.

I ignored her. I decided that I would orgasm and then force my head under. As I came closer and closer to orgasm, I was getting deeper, just at a slower rate. My whole body trembled, and my bones vibrated in my arms, legs, cheekbones, and even my fingers in my muddy prison. I was filthy garbage. As I reached my climax, my voice exploded into what I hoped would be my last female moan. Before even closing my mouth from moaning, I plunged my head into the bog, waiting to suffocate.

But, I didn’t die that night.

I felt a squish in the muck, and it got closer to me. The taste of gritty mud in my mouth flooded my senses as my lungs started to begin burning. The squishing got closer to me. I could feel my lungs burn so much that I felt a crack-like sensation in them. As I was slipping away, I felt my sister hugging me. The world faded after that.

I woke up, on my back, coughing and sputtering up mud. I was up to my neck on my back. Once I was breathing again, I felt lips touch my own, but not to give any more oxygen, but to pleasure them. They kissed me, licked me and my tongue, and showed all manner of intimacy and love towards me. Pushing my sister’s lips away, I cried out, “Why? Why do I deserve to live?”

My sister, in hot red tears, called out, “Why do you think? You mean the world to me, and if you died, I couldn’t live with myself! I need you! Please, my sister. You may not have been born my sister, but you are my sister now! Please, just take the rope.” She handed me the rope that was connected to the balcony.

As I was about to speak, again in my manly voice, my sister put her finger to my lip to shush me. “Don’t speak as my brother. Speak as my beautiful divine sister, who I love dearly.”

Crying now, I spoke, softly, in my feminine voice, making sure to end my sentences in what seemed like questions to me in order to keep my voice in the feminine range. I spoke, “If my reason for living is for you, then I suppose I am in your debt for loving me all my life. Let’s get out of this, sister.”

With my consent now, she tied the rope around both of us, and pulled us both up to the balcony. Police had arrived, and the person that had harassed me was being handcuffed. As we got back to the wooden floor, I noticed my sister’s dress. Despite being completely soaked in muck, I remembered it as the dress I first wore all those years ago. I smiled and tears welled up in my eyes.

I leaned my head on my sisters muddy breasts, and she cradled my head. Coughing out a bit of residue mud, I hugged her back. “I love you, my sister. Thank you for finding me when I couldn’t.”

She smiled, “Thank you for finally agreeing to grab the rope. I couldn’t save you until you did.”

A police officer looked to the both of us. Somehow my wig managed to stay on throughout all of this, and he spoke, unaware of my assigned sex at birth in our muddy state, “Are you girls alright? You don’t have to worry anymore, you are safe now, and for attempted murder, as in pushing you when you fell past him, that man is not leaving prison for a long time, if ever!”

I was about to speak, but my sister spoke up first, “Yes, officer, we are fine now, thanks to you. Thank you for your kindness.”

My sister then nodded, and guided her and I to her vehicle, drove to her own house, and took me to her backyard. We used the garden hose to wash off, but while doing so, she spoke, “I love you no matter what, don’t forget that. I apologize for kissing you earlier, I got carried away after applying CPR.”

Being soaked in the dress as I was washing off, I smiled, and spoke, “You know, I understand. It was a life threatening situation. My female side is so fragile, please promise to protect me.”

She spoke, “You know, we are probably clean enough to go have a shower now. But, my dear sister, I swear on my life, that I will protect you up to even my own grave, and further, if needed. You have my assurance that I will protect you, my princess.”

So, we had showers, and that was that.

Post Story AN: Thanks for reading the story, let me know what you thought of it. A view does little, but a comment not only bumps my story, but also communicates to me how you enjoyed it, and can help inspire my next story.

[Jaina76]

Very well written. I enjoyed it very much. Thank you!

[somebodyelse]

That was really good!

[JSample]

Well written and sensitively addressed, Solrex. My only moment of confusion was when the protagonist first fell in the mud and I was trying to envision how she was positioned. I finally decided that she had landed on "all fours," her legs and arms submerged in the muck.

[Solrex]

Well written and sensitively addressed, Solrex. My only moment of confusion was when the protagonist first fell in the mud and I was trying to envision how she was positioned. I finally decided that she had landed on "all fours," her legs and arms submerged in the muck.

That is correct, she landed on all fours. Not the best way to submerge, so having her suffocate herself because of her emotions added danger despite buoyancy. I’m glad you appreciated my story.