I'm pretty new here and I'd like to share a story to break the ice...

[Ms.Stepford]

I don’t even know where to start. We were at my house. We got on the subject of psychedelics. We have psychedelics just laying around. Tiny powders that release megatons of energy through the proper vessel. That’s probably not the sort of thing you leave laying around on the internet, but I’ve long given up on credibility as a real person. I’m an outlaw. My people are outlaws, so we decided that we’d all take some of one of my favorite substances, a phenythelamine of extraordinary potency and really lovely character, especially in regards to the truth.

So this boy Rob came over and started the conversation about psychedelics, and brought his really lovely friend Sarah, and we dosed them with us. We really just look for an excuse. I think we brought some money in. I dunno. I never have to pay. I’m literally a Goddess. You get me fucked up so I can tell you who you are -like an oracle, and I show you some dance moves you’ve never seen before and hit a drum like you’ve heard in your genetic memory. My inflated ego is really fun to hang around with, as are all of my people’s egos. That’s why I love hanging out with them. We can share our Goddess and God time and dance and make high-pitched noises and the neighbors won’t even complain because you just know the sound of endless spirits drumming and dancing and even if you’re not invited you’re glad that it’s happening.

Rob wasn’t dancing. He was trying to get higher. We were all dosed, so I remember pontificating, “why do you need to get more fucked up? You’re wasting your whole trip trying to get higher when you really need to just appreciate the people that you’re with and the experience you’re having, and you don’t need to nullify yourself,” or some trippy shit like that. Point being, we were all perfectly set to have a spiritual experience, and his constant goal of becoming more fucked up off the house stash was an interruption to the all singing all dancing fucking let’s be free.

So we had to go to the store. On the way, of course he has to go ahead and say “I’m all fucked up and I have to ask you a question…” and I’m like “oh noooo…” and my friend and house/tribe mate Tim is like “oh noooo….” and decided to walk with the other people so I could deal with an awkward question that people ask me. I’m okay with that. He knows I’m not helpless. I’m a Goddess.

Of course, he wanted to ask me about what was in my pants. That’s so fucking boring, especially since my job is pretty much to be a pretty chick with a penis. I told him it was none of his business. He wanted to know if I’d “gone all the way.” No such fucking thing. There is no surgical procedure that’s going to stop me from hating myself from being born male, and there’s no way to fix it. All I can do is be awesome. I can have thousands of thought and idea babies, and eat my fill before I pass them on. You know what I mean. I have different goals. My life is mine, and I’ve been queer and punk rock forever -even when I was in the Army when I was trying to be a boy. It’s an indelible mark on my character. It’s battle scars -literally and figuratively.

We walked on to the store, and some guy on a bar patio was like “can I ask you a question?” and I was like “NO! You shouldn’t even be able to see me!” and then I spun my hoop a few times dramatically as I walked away. He probably wanted to ask me “aren’t you cold?” because I was just in a tank top -because hoops and coats don’t go well together, and dancing comes first.

On the way back home he confessed: I really want to see you naked. I said “everyone does. Lots of people have. I have a ridiculous body. Wanna feel my flaw?” I put his hand on the couple rolls of fat I have on my back above my hips. They make me way thicker than I should be, but I’m working out every day lately, so they’ll go away. Custies say it’s perfect now, but when your income is directly proportional to how typically porno you look, you tend to be very self-critical. I let him touch my butt too. It’s mad callipygian.

We got home and I kept on laughing and talking and hooping in the livingroom. Rob kept on getting me to sit down. He said he needed human contact. Then he bothered me more about what was between my legs. To shut him the fuck up, I just fucking showed him -right there in a room full of my friends. I unbuttoned my four button shorts, pulled down my leggings and panties and showed him my teeny little girl cock. Then he wanted to suck it. He wanted to tell me about how much he did, a lot. I’d have let him if I were in the mood, but I just wanted to keep on having a good time with my friends. I didn’t want to abscond with his scrubby ass. Who doesn’t want to suck my cock? I can literally get that any day, but I’m mostly disinterested unless there’s money involved. For fun, I bottom and suck cock. He’s a brokedick, so I tried to play up how fucked up I was, like “bring me a loaded gun to put up your ass while you do it (I’ve been really into loaded guns and sex lately), but I don’t even think it’ll get up. I’ve been on four years of hormone replacement therapy and two hours of 2C-E and I really would rather dance and laugh.”

I had to pee. I went to the pee hole. It’s a little bathroom under the stairs with a curtain for a door, and I run the water because I don’t like people to hear me pee. I sit down, and before I turn the water on, I hear “hold on, I’ll be there…I’m trying to get laid by some transvestite.”

I freaked the fuck out right there, as did apparently everyone else in the house. I was trying to pee, so I could go and knock a couple teeth out of his mouth. Some people don’t like violence, but it’s just like dancing to me. I fully accept that my ancestors were barbarians. I have savagely bony knuckles, especially since all but the ones on my pointer and middle finger are sunk from punching people. I’ve nonchalantly been in more altercations than most people lie their best stories about, and I don’t see it as latent masculinity. I’m a force of nature.

I was still trying to pee though, so my threats turned to “you better get the fuck out of my house before I finally pee, and finish peeing.” and I’m laughing about it a little because of how I’m sitting there on the toilet with warm water running over my hand while I make threats.

I gave up on peeing, and my sister (who I met as my girlfriend ten years ago) was like telling him why he should apologize profusely, and he tried to say he was sorry, but I was like “no. Get the fuck out my house,” and everyone who lives there was like “yeah, you gotta go if she says,” and I was like “go have a fucking bad trip. I hope you freak the fuck out on the street because of what an asshole you are and end up beat up by a roving gang or in jail or the psych ward. I hope you think about how shitty you treat people and how superficial you are for years!”

He was really bummed while he tried to find his shoes and coat, and I felt pity. I decided to make it a teachable moment, and explain exactly why what he said was so fucked up. First of all…you don’t even need to tell your coke dealer why you’re gonna be late. You just say, I’ll be there in a few. Second of all I’m not a fucking transvestite. My girls had me on that one. They routinely forget that I don’t menstruate when they do, and to the general public I’m an oddly attractive blonde with an endearingly forceful personality who always looks like she’s getting away with something -because I’ve usually shoplifted a few items -but I’m a pretty femme blonde and that’s like carte fucking blanche once you learn how to play it right.

I let him stay after a really good talking to, but he kept on needing to apologize, and I got to the point where I was like “I’m fucking done with it. Next time you think about how sorry you are, the best way you can express it is to shut the fuck up, and keep your sorrow to yourself, because I’m tripping and I just want to spin my hoop to this music.”

Then he apologized again, and I was like “okay little boy. Suck my cock right now in front of my friends, and be done with it.” My sister was like “hell yeah! I’ll take pictures!” and I was like “yes!!!” and boy I bet that was a weird scene.

He told me he still wants to. I’m pretty sure I yelled at him in front of the whole room about how he was never going to get with me. I mean that. As much of a slut as I am, it’s going to be a fun knife to twist because I’m going to keep seeing him around.

I have to give him credit. He was at least willing to admit amongst a group of people that he wanted to get with me, but he ultimately had to leave, scared, while afterward my family talked about how fucking good at being well-spoken and scary I am when I’m pissed off. He’s really lucky I couldn’t pee.

This has been a slice of life. I dunno. Hope it was as fun read.

[Byalongshot]

I like your style, well played and well written.

[sophiebendable]

love this

[TSLexi]

That was fucking awesome.

[Ms.Stepford]

Well, thanks y'all. Thanks for reading

[Yeah]

Awesome story, yummy babe

[BiBoyinBeantown]

Nicely written. Also, <3 "callipygian". Win.

[Ms.Stepford]

Awww thanks again, y'all!

Genius tranny porn bitches are the best tranny porn bitches unless we intimidate y'all.

[Odelay]

Hello Ms Stepford. Met you on streamate awhile back. Welcome to Hung Angels. Liked your story. In fact, I like most stories about psychedelic tripping if they're told right.

[Rusty Eldora]

I didn't get the chance to read more than the first paragraph, will read this weekend. I grew up in the 70's in a University town, and yes enjoyed windowpane weekends. Megaton is right.

Ms.Stepford - welcome to HA, anyway I love your style.

Rusty