Adventures of a Femboy Sissy Ch. 06
Now, if I haven't blown apart your suspension of disbelief at this point, or made you laugh out loud just now and stop reading over the audacity it takes to compare myself to Angelina Jolie, please hear me out. This is what it all comes down to.
He didn't know the why of my reactions, and I, in turn, wasn't able to appreciate what he was saying. We were going right past each other like bullet trains.
As for that? Well, he was only zeroed in on this because we had been sexual together, applying an idea to me now, that he felt was perfectly reasonable. He felt was safe to say. And who wouldn't, under those circumstances, when considering what had gone down between us? What made it terrible, is how, without realizing it, I may have encouraged this moment to happen.
You're sincere when you do it!
Yeah? Well, look what came of it! There I sat with my friend getting it through to me where strong featured, long-limbed, svelte women like Angelina Jolie could look mannish. And he felt there I was, on the opposite side of the spectrum, able to go out and meet them half way. At least it could happen in that place where the curve met, like it did in women built like her. So I did NOT look like Angelina Jolie (don't be silly) but the fact remains...I had the canvas.
"Because...because...you like trying new things...maybe we can see what it's like?" he finished.
"We. What's we? Why are you saying all this?" I snapped at him a second time.
He pulled back a little, like I had just bit at him with my teeth. "I...I thought you wouldn't mind the idea, along with how comfortable you are about...stuff."
I remember then, for some reason, deliberately reaching down and shoving my plate of food into his. I had to bend down to do it, but I suppose it was more like I just wanted the noise. To tell him to get out of the way, and adding to the effect I was leaving.
"You're out of your mind. Do you know what you're saying?"
Exasperated by then, and probably a little hurt, my friend held his ground.
"Yeah, I do know." he countered as he still looked up at me from where he sat. "And so do you. You're not dumb." he stopped short, and still just sat there looking miserable.
"THIS is dumb." I flared up in a cold way, feeling even more queasy, and coming around the coffee table. "And we're done here."
I distinctly remember that to this day, how I said those words, and I meant to go right by him to shut the player off. At the time, I felt so freakin' ludicrous I didn't even know which way to turn. Oh, how the past will haunt us, eh? Slinking in the shadows. And jumping in when it's least expected.
(I debated putting this in for a few minutes, but the truth is, when I moved, I kicked the coffee table leg. On accident. I shouted 'Son of a BITCH!' and limped past him, but stubbing my toe only added to my upset. I took it out on the TV)
"I'm turning this off. This is stupid." I repeated, jabbing buttons. I did just that. I turned off the player and the set both.
"Why is it stupid?" he said from behind me, watching me from where he stayed on the coffee table. "I'm trying to tell you something. If anyone can talk it out, we can."
"Maybe because this is nuts?" I spat back over my shoulder.
"Why are you so defensive about this?" he scowled, as I turned back around to face him.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Why, huh? We talk about everything else. Especially when we started trading blowjobs."
He stressed that last word. Normally, he was more reserved than that, even when we were deep in it with our two year history. He must have been upset in his own right to be so blunt and fling that back at me. I didn't answer. I wasn't going to tell him. In hindsight, that might have been the smartest move I could have ever made. We could have sat down and talked everything out in one nice, big, long clear-the-air kind of thing. But that's not how it went.
If I had felt like faking this story, I could have dumped all this turmoil filler, and made the structure of it a much easier read, with easier transitions, and just have gotten right down to the panties and butt plugs, yeah? But I told myself I would write it down as it happened. And why.
The fact is, the 'guy' in me wasn't having it at that point, either. I suppose my sexual ego was involved here, too, and I felt silly. Men do a lot to avoid looking silly, and they end up just making things worse.
Of course I understood what he was driving at, and through such turmoil, there was this awareness of him admitting to what sounded like a latent attraction to me. That didn't help either. He was keeping it in the context of an idea, but he was also admitting to thinking about me looking a very certain way. You just don't point that out to someone, blowjob buddy or not, that you thought about them looking sexy. At the very least, he was attracted to an idea of me he felt we could look into, from our usual point of discussion, but I guess I just didn't want to hear it.
You think this thing would have delighted me in it's way, but over all, I think...I just felt exposed. In fact, I realize now, being teased all through school really did cheat me of this moment, when two thousand ten was practically at the cusp of different ideas about sexual identities. Leaving out the politics of it, being teased back in the 90's prevented from me just going with it. To just be able to say 'Sure, why not?' and at the very least, have a little fun experimenting. We were already doing what we did, anyway. What could it hurt?
But who reading this can so easily say they just shrug off the past?
Can you understand that, out there? Rather than reading something predictable like...all this left me flattered or turned on, what I really felt in that moment was exposed, and I can't name anyone who ever enjoys being put on the spot like that, no matter what they've encouraged, or where they find themselves.
But it wasn't over yet!
"Why would this upset you?" he went on, sitting there. He was being so innocent and naive...and stupid.
"Maybe because I'm not a girl?" I said, exasperated in turn. "This is crazy. All of a sudden, you're saying you like it, but I like it more. And here's why. Then you hatch this shit about me being sexy. This is what you need to scratch that itch?"
(I remember saying that. Clearly. This is what you need to scratch that itch?)
"I'm not saying you had to do it...look...I'm just pointing out what I saw. I've seen it. Since we met, and now..."
"Hold on a minute...what?" I know I was probably acting too angry. Meaning, I was shaken up and using my anger instead. To try and hide behind it. Well, I was ten years younger, and really feeling put on the spot. I was defensive. He paused. I could see him swallow. I could see him get ready to drop another bombshell, and I had just set myself up for it. Again! He even fidgeted and wiped his hands on his shorts a second time. Before, he had avoided owning it, but now that I put him to it so many times, he felt he had to say more. The words came out like artillery shells. If this had been the movies, maybe I would have cried out: Don't say it! Don't fuckin' say it!
But he said it.
"Come on. You know how you look. You have nice legs."
A detail to note, that I should have made clear earlier, was how I was wearing just some black sweat pants and a white t-shirt that night. I don't know if that was fortunate, or not. If I had had bare legs, I would have ended up feeling so self-conscious at that point, I might have tried to cover up my thighs with my hands like Betty Boop or something.
Still, he hesitated on the nice. Truth be told, it almost stuck in his throat to say it out loud. I have to take a moment in the present telling, and say I really do feel bad about my reaction. He was in the dark about me being teased all through my earlier years, but he was also summoning up the guts to admit this thing and present it to me. I wish now I had appreciated what he was saying.
I wish, I wish, I wish.
Well, sadly, it is what it is. Even so, you can't take stuff like that back either, once you say it. About my legs. Not a direct comment like that. He didn't say sexy, but he said nice. I let out a sigh, and stood straight up to my full height, half expecting him to tell me I was 'hot'. But right then, it felt like I was turning to wood or something, and my expression just kind of blanked out. So this really WAS that little off-center feeling between us, huh? Forget what I said about him being set apart from the past. He was thinking those things about me, too! He couldn't just let me act out without making me feeling like a flaming gay person, and he couldn't let it slide that he thought I could do it even better by looking sexy.
Pretty weighty anvil, when I put it like that, huh?
Now's the time to be frank, though, because it's nothing but the truth. Even as my mind boiled over with a system wide alert, the fact is, under the circumstances of who, what, where and when it was being said...a tiny part of me did like hearing him say it. I admit it now, what I wouldn't then. A tiny part of me that just went batshit over what I was hearing...enjoyed hearing it. Mostly for how, in a flash, it was reminding me of the rush of turning him on and all the fun we had.
But all that did was make me loop back to the freak out I had over being 'gay'!
So, I smothered that feeling on the spot. Ruthlessly. Why? Well, come on, give me a break about this, huh? I can make sense of how I felt now, but back then I was completely knocked off balance.
"Look, we may be doing what we're doing, but this? This is gay. Too gay. You're creeping me out."
"Am I? I'm trying to make this work." he sat there looking dejected now.
"Make what work?"
"Don't play dumb. You're getting a bit of what I am saying. Otherwise, why are you hanging around to listen?"
"Because you keep stopping me from leaving?"
"Then leave!" he fried back, flinging his hand out to where you had to walk around the end of our big L shaped sofa to leave the room. Before I could do so, he just shook his head and carried right on talking, deflating a little right in front of me and letting out a sigh of his own.
"...you know, this isn't easy for me. I'm not like you. I didn't say anything when you made a move that first time. Okay, yeah, fine, I like it, but I go with things even when I feel awkward. But we got this thing, and you know it. Now I'm telling you something about me. Something I thought we could talk about. I thought we were on the same page. Even if we're not, you're being pretty unfair about it."
I got to admit, that was another good proverbial slap in the face. I just stood there. He, in turn, stood up from where he had been sitting, and turning his back on me, he went over to the sofa, turned around, and flopped down hard on the cushions. I had never seen him so openly vulnerable. Or upset. In fact, though I didn't catch it at the time, he had just been willing to even go as far as establishing how we were a sexual item, no matter how we told ourselves we had an 'arrangement'.
"Too gay." he echoed my words with a snort. "What's that supposed to mean? I bet you want us to keep playing, though, because that gets a pass in your book, but what I'm suggesting is 'too gay'?" he emphasized the last part, tapping his chest with his fingers as he spoke.
I had to admit, the clever guy had me there. And to take you back to how he wouldn't let me go on about the very thing, all this being gay, it seemed like he didn't like the sounds of it when applied to himself, either. Or maybe he just didn't care? I mean, look at what he was asking me, after all?
"That's not fair. Think about what you're asking." I hit him with that very retort.
That stopped him. He thought about what he was actually saying to me. Again. Actually asking me. Again. Right then and there. Again. For someone who was always a bit shy and reserved, I could see him cringe at himself anew, in considering all that he had given away or brought to light tonight.
For him to dare to say anything at all, he must have felt ten times the stress, and so would crash and burn all the harder, if and when it went wrong. Looking back on it, he must have counted on my reaction being favorable, or he never would have tried it otherwise. In fact, my reaction was incredibly important to this moment. He needed me to be favorable. Anything less would be a disaster, and would sink him like a rock. He was right, though. At the time, I WAS being unfair. I wasn't listening. On purpose. And so I was trying to embarrass him. Put him on the spot. Flip the tables, as it were...and it worked.
"Fuck, I dunno!" he finally flung up a hand in frustration and looked away. "I handled this all wrong. I knew I would screw it up. I just tried to say that for me to...to go with it like you do, maybe this idea wouldn't be so bad? Try it out. Like, a visual aide or something. Just like the pics and porn."
Well, people, how do you think sissies come to be? I imagine they reach a point just like this with a certain someone who is entertaining certain ideas. I imagine they rationalize it, too, weighing the heterosexual against the homosexual. I can only guess. Anyway, it didn't happen just then. Some strange other self in me was rebelling at where this had all gone and now I just wanted to shut it down. Again, you got to allow for the fact this was all just too much at once. And I had been so comfortable with it just a few shorts minutes ago. So, I played dumb. Just like he said. I didn't say anything more and just held still, waiting for whatever, as he sat there looking dejected some more.
"There is a name for it." he said finally, slumping back, and pushing a hand back through his hair. He left it there, like he was pressing it against some deeper ache in his head. He wasn't looking at me as he went on, instead he just stared up at the ceiling.
"Someone who can be sexy, but isn't a girl. Who doesn't identify as female, but can look like one. It's more like something they step into. You do that, you know. The stepping into it part. You change when we're playing. Something in your manner. I can't do it the same way you do it for me. At least it's been getting more like that, and I don't think I'm imagining it. And you think I'm freaking YOU out? That's how I got the whole idea!" he paused, dropped his hand, and sighed. "I thought that made particular sense for the two of us."
Oh, it made sense all right. On top of my 'gay' freak out, now there was something else stapled to it. Awareness. All those moments that I had no idea of being moments, were poured into a bowl. Points I had no idea of being points about my behavior, and all the reactions, ideas, and notions I had. Throw them in, too. It clicked. I was in the dark until then about what had sprouted up in me, and while I might have been able to reconcile the idea of being a pleasure giver, it was just too much when coupled with this 'idea'. Go on, say it! I might as well look as sexy as I had been acting, right? And he didn't call this gay?
So what did I do?
I walked out of the room. Unfortunately, like I said, it was just too much. I didn't give him the chance to tell me what the name for it was, and I probably wouldn't have listened, anyway. Well, what did you expect? Forgive me if I had to take a bit to process what I was hearing. Maybe I could have spared myself several days and nights of nagging doubt and horrible self reflection if I had let just let myself listen. Yeah, and never being teased about it would have helped, too. (sarcasm)
The next morning, though, he went out of town for a week, and he was gone by the time I woke up.
...continued in Chapter Seven.
(Please rate and comment! It's appreciated and inspires me to keep going. Hope you enjoy!)"
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