4degrees
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2004
- Posts
- 5,860
I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself up and down, and decided I was pretty satisfied with my look tonight. I had on a hooded sweatshirt with a t underneath and Levi's, with my hair parted on the side and combed back. I had to use a good amount of gel to keep my unruly curls at bay, but when I did, my hair looked pretty decent. It didn't quite reach the back of my neck, and I had pulled it behind both ears, namely to show off my new captive bead ring I wore in the left lobe.
I brought my face in closer to the mirror and parted my lips widely, checking to make sure I had no food stuck between my teeth, then looking into my eyes, wondering how well someone could read my thoughts by looking in them. I stepped back again giving myself yet another once over. I turned to the side and studied my chest, which was bound with an ace bandage underneath the the t shirt. It was nice and flat. No reason that would be questioned. Then I adjusted the small bulge under my fly, making sure it wasn't overly obvious, yet obvious enough for someone checking it out. I put my hand down my pants and moved the shaft of the soft latex prosthesis to one side, and then the other until I was confident that it looked natural. I picked up a pair of sunglasses and slid them up on the top of my head, an assurance that my hair would stay back. I was ready, and I looked good. I knew that tonight I'd find that guy that I was looking for, the one who would still accept and be attracted to me even after he found out I wasn't a genetic male.
Do I need to explain things any more? Well, for those of you who do need more insight, I'll go to the trouble of telling you. Some people call it 'dragking', some 'ftm', others call it 'transman' or 'transfag', the last is what I most closely identify with. There's no doubt, at this point, that my gender identity dysphoria is very real, and that my discomfort, felt for thirty years now, concerning being the gender I was cursed with sometime around 4 months in my mother's womb doesn't match up with the mental part of my identity. It's only come to surface, the fact that I'm actually not just crazy or fucked up but afflicted with an actual disorder, of sorts, in the last three years. Still, for varying reasons, I'm not at a point where I'm able to really do much to help my physical jive with my mental.. Oh, yeah, therapy has been helpful and enlightening, but it's sure not enough. So, tonight I'm heading back out to a bar, one I've become a regular at for some time now, to lessen the notion that I'm just a freak, and to feel some acceptance and equality by others who frequent the establishment too.
I said I identified with the term 'transfag' best. What that really says is that despite my deep desire to be physically male, I'm attracted to guys as well. I've learned that gender identity is a very seperate thing from sexual preferance. Most people would take for granted that anyone who wants to change their sex, wants to be with someone of the same sex..same before they opted for surgery, anyhow. But that's not always the case, as I know first hand. Well, enough for now about the scientific side of my story. I'll get on with the personal side.
I made my way over to the bar at the far end of the large open room to start out with a drink. I had pretty much the same routine every time I came here. I'd get a drink, and sit at the bar for long enough to have a second, checking out the scene, saying a casual 'hi' to those I recognised and scoping the room for those I didn't, looking for that guy I hadn't yet met. By my third drink, I'd move to a table and wait. Wait to see if I got approached, possibly joined for a drink. This was an 'alternative' type of bar, so many different types of people came here. All except for the mainstream 'normal' hetero folks. This wasn't their kind of place.
I fit in well, it was never unusual to see alot of people there that you really couldn't pin either gender on unless you were pretty upclose, or had a hand in their pants. Alot of gays, alot of lesbians..and alot of people in between that maybe weren't real sure what they were looking for. I knew what..well, who, I was looking for. I just hadn't met him yet.
I brought my face in closer to the mirror and parted my lips widely, checking to make sure I had no food stuck between my teeth, then looking into my eyes, wondering how well someone could read my thoughts by looking in them. I stepped back again giving myself yet another once over. I turned to the side and studied my chest, which was bound with an ace bandage underneath the the t shirt. It was nice and flat. No reason that would be questioned. Then I adjusted the small bulge under my fly, making sure it wasn't overly obvious, yet obvious enough for someone checking it out. I put my hand down my pants and moved the shaft of the soft latex prosthesis to one side, and then the other until I was confident that it looked natural. I picked up a pair of sunglasses and slid them up on the top of my head, an assurance that my hair would stay back. I was ready, and I looked good. I knew that tonight I'd find that guy that I was looking for, the one who would still accept and be attracted to me even after he found out I wasn't a genetic male.
Do I need to explain things any more? Well, for those of you who do need more insight, I'll go to the trouble of telling you. Some people call it 'dragking', some 'ftm', others call it 'transman' or 'transfag', the last is what I most closely identify with. There's no doubt, at this point, that my gender identity dysphoria is very real, and that my discomfort, felt for thirty years now, concerning being the gender I was cursed with sometime around 4 months in my mother's womb doesn't match up with the mental part of my identity. It's only come to surface, the fact that I'm actually not just crazy or fucked up but afflicted with an actual disorder, of sorts, in the last three years. Still, for varying reasons, I'm not at a point where I'm able to really do much to help my physical jive with my mental.. Oh, yeah, therapy has been helpful and enlightening, but it's sure not enough. So, tonight I'm heading back out to a bar, one I've become a regular at for some time now, to lessen the notion that I'm just a freak, and to feel some acceptance and equality by others who frequent the establishment too.
I said I identified with the term 'transfag' best. What that really says is that despite my deep desire to be physically male, I'm attracted to guys as well. I've learned that gender identity is a very seperate thing from sexual preferance. Most people would take for granted that anyone who wants to change their sex, wants to be with someone of the same sex..same before they opted for surgery, anyhow. But that's not always the case, as I know first hand. Well, enough for now about the scientific side of my story. I'll get on with the personal side.
I made my way over to the bar at the far end of the large open room to start out with a drink. I had pretty much the same routine every time I came here. I'd get a drink, and sit at the bar for long enough to have a second, checking out the scene, saying a casual 'hi' to those I recognised and scoping the room for those I didn't, looking for that guy I hadn't yet met. By my third drink, I'd move to a table and wait. Wait to see if I got approached, possibly joined for a drink. This was an 'alternative' type of bar, so many different types of people came here. All except for the mainstream 'normal' hetero folks. This wasn't their kind of place.
I fit in well, it was never unusual to see alot of people there that you really couldn't pin either gender on unless you were pretty upclose, or had a hand in their pants. Alot of gays, alot of lesbians..and alot of people in between that maybe weren't real sure what they were looking for. I knew what..well, who, I was looking for. I just hadn't met him yet.