Naked Time Machine

My outfit took 20 minutes of iteration, my hair is laying smooth and shimmering, and my face is done to artistic precision; I look fantastic, and I know it. For the rest of the day I will walk lighter, stand taller, and live brighter in my final form. This life-booster is unshakable until I retire to my closet to strip it all down. The top comes off to reveal the cavernous bra struggling to provide female form to my broad chest. I stand flat chested and empty when the bra hits the floor.

Skirts and dresses are my favorite. They provide free-flowing liberation and an inherent femininity not as easily achieved with a straight figure in jeans. I have found one pair that understands my unique body, but I’m definitely more of a skirt girl. My biggest shame comes out as I strip bare; an abhorrent bulge has been crudely stuck to me, supplying me ample discomfort on a daily basis. I can briefly forget about its existence since I got used to the pinching, pulling, and other distress throughout the events of the day. The problem is, there is no way to discount the presence of a penis when you’re naked.

I’ve Died a Thousand Times

I was in the living room enjoying a blissful afternoon with my wife and child. The place had a definite 50’s vibe to it, and it was my home. Everything was clean and organized as I watched my kid playing on the floor in front of me. Suddenly, the peace of the moment was rudely interrupted by a massive explosion, which blows out the entire side of my house in an avalanche of debris. My vision is dark and blurred from the trauma, but I use all my strength to lift up my head and see the lifeless blood-stained bodies of my beloved wife and child.

Two men in black approach, grasp my arms, and drag me outside. They slam me down on my knees and I raise my head to face the figure in front of me. All I see is a mirage of a person; a dark entity whom had robbed me of my entire livelihood. I crane my neck to the side to see a gaping void where the wooden yellow wall to my house previously stood.

There’s a loud pop, and pressure hits me in the upper right portion of my chest. My eyes explode with the impact as it is followed with a second shot to my lower left abdomen, and a final blow adjacent to my heart. I fall backwards as time decelerates and I meet the pavement. My sight fades in from the edges as I feel the my heart stop beating, and my last breath leaves my body.

Brain, Body, and Pleasure

Gender, sex, and orientation. These terms are all pretty much the same and completely interchangeable, right? Not so much. Many people don’t have the kind of inner conflict that forces them to consider exactly what these words mean, and how they relate on a personal level. Without contemplation, gender, sex, and orientation could be easily confused. As a member of the LGBT community, I feel there’s an obligation to understand these terms and share that knowledge where it is applicable.