I Will Carry This No Further - The Magnus Archives

Trans!Martin getting  top surgery from Micheal

Very loose in interpretation of canon  

CW: Light Body Horror 

 

 

If you asked anybody who the living room belonged to, they may have guessed someone in their twilight years who never quite got the hang of interior design. The furniture was old, though inexpensive and mismatched in the kind of way you usually only saw in dusty second-hand shops.

Only the scattered electronic devices gave away the youth of the occupant, as did the not-quite-old-enough-to-be-called-retro gaming console resting next to the large boxy television. And if you asked the kind of visitor this person would receive, they might guess grandchildren or somebody from Meals on Wheels.

You'd hardly imagine it belonged to a young man who spent a little too much time in charity shops, awkwardly offering a cup of tea to a guest of decidedly non-human stock.

It declined the tea.

Martin was hardly a short man, but the entity that had introduced itself as Michael towered over him. "Relax." The echo of its voice did nothing to slow Martin's rapid heartbeat.

"I'm just, starting to think this might be a bad idea."

Micheal laughed, the room rippling with it. "Why?"

"I just, I do want to do this, but I know I probably shouldn't be making this type of deal? If any of the others found out-"

"Doesn't everyone want to change things about themselves? Become more... them?" Michael seemed to get taller somehow, or maybe that was just that it was getting thinner, less human and more like the kind of thing people wrote about in their statements, around the time the handwriting started to get wobbly and the paper gained small water stains.

"Yes, but if Jon found out I'd given you the book-"

"He doesn't need to know."

"Right." Jon would find out. He'd find out and then he'd find out /why/ and then, well, he'd probably be more upset about the book. And the lying to him. But he'd wanted this for years, and he'd never actually be able to save up the money to go private and- "Okay. should I just, take this all off then?"

"It would be nice to see what I have to work with."

He pulled off the baggy jumper, his shirt, his vest, and finally squirmed out of his binder. Michael just watched, impossibly long fingers soothingly brushing against his waist as Martin took a few deep breaths.

"Don't worry, I've done this before." Martin knew that. He also knew that if Michael wanted it could just, distort him to death or something. He really should have convinced someone to come as backup. But that would have meant telling them what he was doing and he'd rather not have that particular conversation with any of his coworkers.

Martin screwed his eyes shut as Michael's hands moved to his chest, pressing against his skin. They were warmer than he'd expected, like being touched by someone with a mild fever.

"Ready?"

Martin nodded, then gasped as he felt Micheal's hands slip inside him. It didn't hurt, not exactly, it was just a lot, his nerves struggling to process the way his form was shifting, his chest aching in a way he remembered from his teenage years.

He opened his eyes, and the sight of hands shifting beneath his flesh immediately made him nauseous. Micheal's eyes snapped to meet his as he let out a distressed noise.

"Do you need to stop?"

"It's fine!" So long as he focused on something other than his skin. He stuck to watching Micheal's face, the curls almost hiding the fact that it was smiling, even as its brow furrowed in concentration.

There was the occasional sound of something wet hitting the floor, plucked from him by Michaels ever-moving hands. He should have put down newspaper or something, a bowl from the kitchen to keep his insides neatly contained. He let out a hysterical giggle, one of his hands moving forward to rest on Micheal's shoulder. His legs were shaking, and he was glad he'd chosen to do this here, somewhere he could safely collapse once it was all over.

"Almost done."

The hands slid out of him with no trace of blood. It felt like it should have been accompanied by a wet popping sound, or a sudden spike of pain. But no, one minute Micheal's hands were inside of him, and then they weren't.

Martin clung to him for a long minute, breathing deeply. Nothing hurt, but he felt faint. Uncomfortably like he'd just given blood and hadn't made it to the juice and snacks yet.

He barely noticed Michael steering him towards the sofa, just a sudden awareness that he was sitting down, and that his torso didn't feel right. Palming his chest he found it wasn't perfectly flat, but the only shape was made from fat rather than breast tissue. Blinking tears from his eyes he turned to look in the mirror hanging from the door.

It was what he'd wanted since he'd hit puberty, a chest that didn't feel too heavy and constraining. Nothing for people to look at or question. There weren't even any marks to show what had happened, and as long as he kept an eye on his health to make sure Michael hadn't done anything else while it was in there everything was... great.

"Thank you."

When he looked behind him Michael was gone, and there was a door that hadn't been there before in the corner of his flat. He'd read enough statements to know he wasn't going to be opening that. Instead, he turned away, pulling on his shirt. He looked at his jumper and decided he didn't need it, it was warm enough after all, and he'd hate to get it dirty while he had a cup of tea and dealt with the mess.