Support Structure (Fem-to-Futa, transformation, surgical, futa-on-male, male-on-futa)

“Tara, are you alright?” a hand on her shoulder jolted her out of silently wallowing.

“Yeah, Meredith. Everything’s fine. I’m just bummed out,” Tara attempted to reassure her co-worker, but she wasn’t able to shake off her brooding mood.

Something needs to change, she resolved. She just wasn’t sure what it was that was under her control. Glancing at the corner of her monitor, she heaved with a sigh of relief. Seven minutes to go… she thought. Slipping her headphones back, she decided to listen to the rest of the new Tennis album while finalizing the updates to her case files before skipping out to her dance class.

***

Ravenglade Studio was the one place Tara felt she could put aside the weight bearing down on her mind. Dancing served as the only therapeutic outlet she could reliably count on to alleviate a bad mood, and today, she was sorely in need of an hour abandoning all the thoughts plaguing her. As she headed to one of the bathrooms to change, she felt compelled to stop and greet Kelsey and Gwen. The two women had started out as Kevin and Gary, and over the last two years, Tara had seen them through numerous sessions at the counseling center as they managed their transition. They were part of her sample group, and normally, she’d have been glad to see them, but today, they just served as a reminder of her research grant getting turned down.

They weren’t the only two women Tara had introduced to the dance studio – a number of her cases had been recommended to the class as a safe space to explore their physicality and their transition process. It represented a haven, not just for the broader needs of LGBT participants, but central component of many members’ social circles. Dominique, the lead instructor, had definitely laid out cots more than a few times for students who didn’t have a place to stay after being kicked out by unyielding and bigoted parents. Dominique was probably more successful in pairing up new roommates than Craigslist had ever been.

As Tara exited the restroom, her outfit pared down to a pink and green leotard and a sweatband to keep her bangs out of her face, she caught a glimpse of a woman she’d never seen before stretching at the barre. She didn’t have to wait long before Dominique stepped to the front of the class, introducing the regulars to the newest participant.

“Welcome back, everyone! We’ve got a couple announcements before kicking things off this afternoon. Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone who came out to support Stephanie and Ryan at their performance this past weekend. It was the highlight of my Saturday night, and given how raucous the after-party was, that’s saying something!” Dominique lauded the couple at the back, who each took a brief bow.

“For the rest of you, I’d like to introduce my dear friend, Dr. Macellaia Cavallo. She’s recently relocated her practice to the Bay area from Geneva, and I hope you’ll welcome her back to the States with open arms. She’s absolutely brilliant,” and raising her hand, the rest of the room joined in a short burst of applause.

“…and I’m sure you’re going to drum up plenty of new clients with this crowd, doll,” Dominique added with a wink, and Dr. Cavallo smiled self-consciously as eyes around the room peered at her with curiosity. Tara glanced toward her, and caught her gaze – she had sharp, dark brown eyes which matched her hair color, with full cheeks and pouty lips turned up in a soft smile. She was maybe two inches taller than Tara, but much fuller-figured, and had an olive complexion, which Tara reasoned was a consequence of her obviously Italian lineage.

Through the dance class, Tara paid little attention to anything but her form, and Dominique’s instruction. They had two fast-paced routines on either side of a slower, heavier piece in the middle of the class, and by the end, the

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