Ask anybody: Buck's not a man of deep reflection. He knows who he is, and he's never felt the need to put a whole lot of thought into it. He's got the answers he wants people to believe, but he knows the truth. He just doesn't think it's all that important, in the grand scheme of things.
It really is a complete accident when he ends up in a trans support group. See, there was this misunderstanding about the ownership of a certain pack of cigarettes, and he thought it might be better to duck into this open door than let the store clerk catch up with him. Being offered a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin, well, that's just an unexpected bonus. He reckons it's as good a disguise as he's gonna get and sits in a chair, ready to take a nap while a bunch of pussies whine about their feelings.
But then they're going around in a circle and introducing themselves, and really, it's just going to call attention to him if he doesn't do that, so he nods to the woman who seems to be in charge and grunts, "Buck."
She grins, obviously delighted by something. "Welcome, Buck! Now, this is the first time I've ever seen you here, so why don't you tell us more about yourself?"
He shrugs and mutters something along the lines of maybe next time, but the leader just grins even wider.
"Well, that's okay, you just sit here and listen and make yourself feel at home, Buck, and then next week we'll get into that head of yours!" Her cheer is nauseating, but he just nods, folds his arm over his chest, and lets his mind wander to the danishes Marshall promised to try to make tonight.
A teenager stands up and coughs nervously. "Uh, hi, you might remember me from about a month ago, Sam?"
"Hello, Sam!" the rest of the people chorus. Buck rocks his chair back on two legs and pulls the brim of his hat down over his eyes.
"Well, I did it." The kid grins. "I came out to my parents. I told them I'd be more comfortable if they could call me their son, and they've agreed to try it out." He lets out a happy little whoop as the group leader wraps him into a quick hug, and Buck slowly sets the chair down and tips the hat back up. He can see the boy's tits.
The meeting continues with much of same. People talk about their trials and triumphs, and Buck studies them. There's one man he makes a note to corner after the group session - his chest is ridiculously flat for someone who was happy about getting his top surgery scheduled. There's a woman he wants to sic Alice on, but he's pretty sure that even her skill at and love for makeovers wouldn't overcome her irrational disgust for people who fall outside of the norm. He's the only one there she wouldn't have a problem with, he realizes with no small amount of his own disgust.
When the conversation seems to be wrapping up, he's surprised to realize he's still there, paying attention. He's even more surprised to hear himself clear his throat. The group all quiet and look expectantly at him.
"Uh. Never mind." He sinks back into his chair, but the woman beside him pats his arm encouragingly.
"Go on, dear. It's all easier once you just start talking."
He swallows and tries again. "I just wanted to know what you'd do to fit into a body when there's no chance of any sort of permanent changes. Not even a haircut."
There are a lot of suggestions, none of which are really news to him after the rest of the meeting. He can tell they're all curious why he can't do permanent changes, but they don't ask in the big group. Instead, the man he'd had his eye on finds him afterwards and asks.
"I've got multiple personalities," Buck says. It's easier to say it that way than to explain that he's not even the one who's 'supposed' to be there in the first place. "All the others are women. Well, pretty much. And it ain't right to fuck with a woman's body like that."
The man laughs. "Especially if you're surrounded by them 24/7! Will, by the way."
Buck shakes his hand. "It ain't so bad. They mostly leave me alone. I reckon I'm the only one who can piggyback and annoy whoever's fronting - running the body, I mean - so it works out for me."
"I hope you don't mind me asking. I mean, please tell me if you do mind! But what's it like, sharing a body like that? A body that's so wrong for you? Because I mean, mine's wrong, but I can change it without it affecting anyone else the same way." Will steers their walking conversation out onto the sidewalk outside.
Buck shrugs. "It's weird. When I don't have the body, I feel right, but I can't make any decisions about what's going on. It's a tradeoff that's worth it every now and then."
Will nods slowly. "I wonder if there's any support groups for multiple personalities."
"Shut up." Buck turns down a side street and walks faster, wondering if he'll be able to negotiate time out for this every week.