Just Triggered A Male To Mayo Transgendered Walmart Cashier I needed to get a new belt for work because when you work outside in the heat and the rain, every now and then you realize undressing during this busy season that the strap of leather on top of the pant just doesn't give off that professional look you need to project to clients anymore during this busy season. It's time for an emergency belt run to Walmart. Eventually I decide I can punch another whole one of the few 34 (their smallest size) inch belts. The lone open register is manned by a transmayo hog desperately clinging to a male identity though it obviously obliterated any male characteristics other than a ratty goatee with his indulgence in the Beetus. Or maybe it might have once potentially been female that completely gave up on clinging to a gender and was shamelessly wearing a metformin goatee. Roughly 5 foot 8 inches tall, estimated weight 350-380 pounds, but... IT HAD THE SLATON SLAB! Full on rectanglur-ish slab of adipose tissue one its forehead drooping into its eyes. But at least it was "standing" for some definitions of standing that include always maintaining at least three non-gut points of contact with the floor or counter. Never had more than one hand off the counter at a time... This was too easy. I simply put the belt on the conveyor and when it picked it up to handle it, it... I guess it played with it? It's face started expressing a greater degree of confusion than it did before and held the belt in the manner people in comedy movies hold giant rubbet dildoes waving it back and forth a few times before putting it in the bag. I slide my card and everything in the universe aligns into opportunity. The pen to sign the transaction isn't in it's slot. I spy it dangling. I mention this to the hog and it slowly begins lumbering around as I make a show of looking confused. Then as it rounds the end of the counter and puts eyes on me again I swiftly squat and recover the pen and sign politely saying "Sorry I found it." Much more slowly it lumbers back and I get my receipt. As I wander off effortlessly being able to take both feet off the ground and not requiring further support to stand it goes to its radio and whalesongs to the longhaired (female identifying mayogender) wandering the no man's land between the registers and the door.  It was probably griping about some manlet buying an impossibly small belt "because real men, blah blah blah." Or maybe it wanted it's lunch break. Who the fuck cares about the musing of pigs. My only regret it as miserable as its existence is this small act of shitlording is unlikely to have affected it for any length of time. I deeply regret I can not end this story with "And then I beat it with the belt until its skin broke revealing fat on top of fat" but... unfortunately these hogs still have rights, but until we fix that hams tend to be criminals and I'd rather not be locked in a cell with a fat fuck.