Confessions of a part-time girl

Losing control
10:18 a.m. -- 2008-06-26

You've heard a lot about tranny heroin by now. That powerful yet incredibly selective drug. One segment of the population is born immune (simply by being female), while among the remainder, some are hopelessly addicted in early childhood.

Like any severe addiction, it causes the subject to behave irrationally at times, as they go in search of another 'hit'.

Sometimes, that hit is thrust upon you. Here's an example from my own life. It's not something of which I am proud. Rather, I present it as a warning.

I went to a party one night, with Lucy. It was at a friend's house, not far from our place. Since we had been able to walk there, we were both drinking.

Lucy and I had an argument; I don't remember what it was about. I tried to make amends, but she stormed off. I should have walked her home, but we were both angry. Instead, I went back into the party, and drank quite a lot.

At one stage I was in a conversation some folks in the kitchen, including three goth girls in heavy makeup. They were saying that everybody looks better with makeup on. Had I ever tried it?

"No," I replied. The alternative, "Yeah, all the time; I'm a transvestite" isn't the kind of thing I am likely to say. I've always been very secretive and more than a little ashamed of my cross-dressing.

Moments later, I was ushered into the bathroom by the three goth girls, where they proceeded to get out their makeup and fuss over me. Also making nice comments about bone structure, and how much better I was looking, as they applied concealer, foundation, powder, blusher, eye-liner, mascara...

Tranny heroin! Three girls I've never met before just dragged me away somewhere quiet, to make me look just like them.

Lust.

Nobody at the party freaked out. It was a gothic rock kind of party, so nobody batted an eyelid, mascara-enhanced or otherwise.

Still high on my tranny heroin, I didn't resist when one of the three girls started kissing me. In fact, we went upstairs together, found a quiet room and had sex on the floor.

In my defence, I can only say that Lucy and I hadn't made love for nine months. Were it not for her acceptance of my transvestite tendencies, I'd have left Lucy long before. Instead, we remained together in a curious after-image of our earlier relationship. Still, what I did was wrong, and it was also very stupid. To illustrate just how stupid, consider: it was the only time in my life when I have had unprotected sex.

That injection of tranny heroin caused me to lose control completely. To be dragged off and made up by three girls, despite my weak protestations, suffused me with lust... and I acted upon it. This is my biggest weakness, and it probably will be until the day I die: being forcibly transformed into girly state is simply the hottest thing that could happen to me.

The goth girl I had sex with was badly overweight, and hardly pretty. Not the kind of person I'd normally be interested in at all. Yet because she made me up, and wanted to kiss me, nothing else mattered. Neither the risks I was taking (STDs, fatherhood, Lucy finding out...) nor my normal standards prevented me from this stupid and selfish act.

As dawn broke, I slunk away home. I thought Lucy might find out what had taken place, but she never did. It left me feeling very fatalistic about our relatinoship: whether she found out or not, I didn't DESERVE to be with her anymore.

She never did learn what happened at the party after she left, but when we eventually broke up about five months later, I didn't try to resist it because I felt I no longer deserved her. Tranny heroin is a label; it's not an excuse. Be aware of what it can do to you, and your loved ones.

previous - next