Mirin peeled her leg from the leather sofa. Sweat clung to her skin in a fine layer, just enough to adhere to the furniture, but not to warrant any special attention. The office didn't offer air conditioning. For her at least. Out in the waiting room where others had waited with her, she was cool and hydrated. She wiped at her brow and waited for her therapist to continue.
"It sounds to me like you're restraining yourself," the dismayed woman said, paying only minimal attention to her patient. This wasn't their first session, or even their second or third, and still she made every effort to keep Mirin uncomfortable. Even the more unpleasant patients got better treatment.
"How so?" Mirin asked.
"It's rather obvious," she said, condescending as a fresh college graduate, "All you're doing is going with what people want of you. Not that I can blame you. From what you've said before, everyone at work is out to get you. Hardly surprising."
"So, what? I need to make decisions for myself?"
"Yes, within reason of course. Flaunting that body like you do might be too far. Perhaps some medical tape for the breasts? Or maybe adopt a child so it's not as... unbecoming."
Mirin swallowed her response, "I don't make enough to support a child."
"No, I didn't think so. Getting hired as a novelty worker mustn't pay well."
"Just get to the point, please," Mirin rubbed at her temples. She wished people would just ignore her body for once. Day in and day out, someone would comment on her figure, demeaning her for it. For the longest time, she thought such teasing would end once she left school, but it just followed her like a cowl. At this point, most words dripped off her back.
"My point, miss Lester, is you should consider trying to blend in with society."
"I tried. It ended up with my lungs almost being crushed," Mirin sighed. She'd explained it before.
"I see," the therapist said. Mirin didn't use her name where possible, preferring to disassociate the woman with reality. Without a name, she was just another venomous mouth, "Perhaps it'd be best to work from home."
"Tried to. My mother wouldn't let me."
"Ah, yes. You still live with your parents."
"Just my mum."
"No wife? That might explain a lot."
Mirin wished her glare could pierce skulls. No matter who they were, people ignored the things they were responsible for. Her mum couldn't get a wife, because everyone knew what had led to Mirin's birth, and everyone knew because they couldn't keep their fucking lives to themselves.
She didn't take the bait. Even a fish would recognise the dangers after enough time. Mirin turned her attention to the future, formulating her day off and strategy for handling work. Therapy should help her handle it, provide a release, but thus far it hadn't made anything easier. Just another drain on her funds and time. One more session and that's it.
"And our time is up," they still had ten minutes, "I look forward to seeing you next time, Mirin. Same time?"
"Yes. Thank you," Mirin said and left for the restroom. In a stall, her worst kept secret flopped out into the toilet bowl, slapping the icy porcelain. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. Any other woman might be grateful that their armpits never reeked no matter how hot a day became, and she was, but the assault on her sinuses whenever she stripped made her question that gratitude. A sigh slipped out at the release of pressure.
Once emptied, she pulled her pantyhose over the meaty log. Heat wave or not, she couldn't let it swing freely, or hang in a pair of jeans. Without leggings, skirts were impossible in public, knee-length or not. Mirin hissed as she pulled too far and pinched her sack.
"Fuck's sake." Some adjustments and she felt she was presentable, but still glared at her reflection. No matter what she wore, her body seemed to pop out like an absurd children's book. Her blouse, something she thought looked cute from a magazine, strained to cover her chest appropriately. Her skin glistened under the lights, drawing her eyes at any moment.
"Why aren't these longer?" Mirin tugged at her skirt. This was her summer attire, the only chance she had at aerating her crotch outside, but the garment length put her under constant threat of exposure. A random gust, bastard children, or any passer by, and everything was released. She smoothed out her crimson locks. It wasn't the clothes fault, they were designed with a sleeker form in mind.
Not someone with hips wider than shoulders, or boobs larger than heads, or with a seven-inch slab of meat nestled against apple-sized testes. Mirin couldn't change herself. Plastic surgery had been outlawed several years ago, as people decried artificiality. Even so, mutilating her body was too far. She pulled on her ear, where a faint hole reminded her of carefree days. When she didn't give a shit about consequence and attacked everyone.
She missed those times. Perhaps she should take up boxing, except her boobs would get in the way. Or running, except her thighs and... thing weren't suited for it. Sport had been the bane of her life since Year 7, when her body decided it was time to grow. If it had just been upward, then everything could've been great. All her little nuisances wouldn't show and she might've had a better social life.
No use regretting the past, she thought and splashed some water on her face to cool off. She didn't wear makeup. People used it to accentuate their cheeks, their lips and eyes to craft a mature air about them, but hers needed no aid. Using product seemed like a waste of money.
Studying herself didn't last long. She'd seen her face too often to be surprised by it any longer. Sometimes she thought perhaps a new freckle had grown in, or maybe the beauty mark on her chin had darkened, but they never did. Whatever force that designed her seemed finished. Mirin dried her face and left, face down and away from whispering gazes.
There was no hiding her body, however. Tired disdain pulled lips down wherever she passed, eyes followed, waited and started talking when they thought she was far enough. She never was. Mirin kept her right hand clasped around her purse strap, the other hung limply, twitching at every sharp comment. Just more knives in her back.
At this point, the bite of her bra was worse. Mirin sighed and headed to the nearest maternal store. By sixteen, she and her mother shopped for the same sizes, and just a few months later she needed larger. Imagine it, entering the last year of school and shaming every parent or teacher in the vicinity, then rising from there in a dizzying spiral. Even now, ten years later, her growth hadn't ceased, merely slowed.
"These please," Mirin said. The cashier took one look and recognised her, a sneer replacing the welcoming grin on her lips.
"Shocking, the cow needs new clothes. Surprised you haven't just retired to a farm with those things." She had a sharper accent, a northerner Mirin supposed, that added another obnoxious bite to her words.
"Just get on with it so I can leave," Mirin sighed.
"Hold your horses, I was just about to go on break. Come back in ten minutes would you."
"I know your schedule, Cadence," Mirin said, wreathing the name in spite.
"Are you stalking me?" Cadence's voice pitched several notes higher, a worry entered her gaze, while an anxious hand darted to her phone. Or was it pepper spray?
"Who in their right mind would stalk you? No one needs to know the crap you get up to." Someone else said, coming from the back. She was an older woman, clearly a mother by her marginal curves. Her expression wasn't any kinder than Cadence's. "Just take her damn money and get her out of here. Don't need people talking."
"Fine," Cadence pouted, "Come here again and I'm calling the cops."
"Whatever." Mirin knew bullshit when she heard it. While she was held in contempt by the whole of Ireland, and likely the world beyond, she couldn't be incarcerated without evidence just because of her gender. That didn't stop people from trying.
Her mum wasn't home when she returned to their flat. The economy hadn't been kind, nor was her insatiable clothes budget, and so they'd moved two years ago, leaving their old house behind. Though cramped, she appreciated that the tenants kept to themselves. Proper neighbourhoods liked to stuff their noses where they didn't belong, especially when the infamous Mirin lived so close. No one here could do that inconspicuously.
If she were a celebrity, the constant attention might be beneficial. Not a day without her name in the tabloids, or websites paying for information on her. As it was, she was just the freak next door. Inconsequential but detested all the same. Mirin plopped onto the sofa and stacked her feet upon the coffee table. The tv was still on, meaning her mother hadn't left long ago.
"Boring, boring, boring," Mirin flipped through channels and settled on a documentary, "Might as well." She got up and went to the fridge, grabbing the supermarket brand beer they kept well-stocked, an out of date bagel and some jam, then returned to her spot. The cushions had been worn out, but her ass provided all the comfort she needed as she nestled into the familiar position. Slouched, beer and food in hand, she let her mind drift as the tv played.
It was a historical documentary, detailing what led to the current Asexual world.
"An hour for this crap?" Mirin groaned, "I can do it in a few sentences. Fucked up disease killed half the population, people got desperate and made themselves Asexual. Except me. Where's my fucking documentary? Bullshit." She slurped the rest of her beer, got another and switched to some cartoons.
Though she wasn't wrong, the death had been slow and terrifying. For years, humanity feared its extinction. The half that died was a single people; men. She was born after they were gone, as such she'd only seen grainy images of such people. All she understood of them was they were hairier, thicker set and shared her extra 'equipment', something that animals filled in for easily enough. Their role was once to help reproduce. Made redundant in the current world.
"Then what's my role?" Mirin mumbled and tossed aside her fifth can. The alcohol warmed her body all over, but focused in her face, blearing the world and sapping her energy. Why was she born this way if humanity didn't need penises anymore?
Everyone else liked to think it was for their amusement. She was different, therefore lesser, and she couldn't do a thing about it. Just getting a decent education and job proved almost impossible. But things could change. Surely if she had been born, another one like her was as well. The world was too huge for her to be alone.
