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"Priestess of Cybele: An Erotic Biography" An Exotic Proem for Adults in Four Line Stanza by The Orifice at Delphi ([email protected]) it will become you; and if you are glad whatever's living will yourself become. girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need. ee cummings "Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and adventures are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes and forgotten." Neil Gaiman True, without falsehood, certain and most true, that which is above is as that which is below, and that which is below is as that which is above, for the performance of miracles of the One Thing. And as all things are from the One, by the meditation of One, so all things have their birth from this One Thing by adaptation. The Sun is its Father, the Moon its Mother, the Wind carries it in its belly, its nurse is the Earth. This is the Father of all perfection, or consummation of the whole world. Its power is integrating, if it be turned into earth. "Emerald Tablet of Hermes" Prologue "Cybele" is a "proem" (poem + prose) that has been written in four-line stanzas. It refers to what some psychologists call the individuation process. That's a term that the psychiatrist Dr. Carl Jung first coined, but one does not need to be a student of Jung to appreciate its meaning. The deeper issues that "Cybele" addresses are surprisingly universal. What does it mean, for example, to speak of integrity? What does it mean to get along? How does the individual relate to others in a way that honors and reconciles the truth on both sides? While our author offers the reader an in-depth experience of a unique sexual orientation, his story-which was somewhat difficult to tell, considering-otherwise touches on many existential themes that are common to us all. What is it to be a man/woman? Is the psyche two dimensional or multi- dimensional? If the latter, can we meaningfully speak of a person's erotic soul? What happens when lies get told in the context of relationship? What, finally, is truth? The keynote in "Cybele" is one that stresses the importance of authenticity and integration. One must not try to skip over one's true nature, like the cow that jumped over the moon. Yet, sadly, that's exactly what occurs in so many spiritual/religious traditions. While this story generally comes across as being both heart-centered and light-hearted, it is arguably still pretty edgy. What's a girl to do? It isn't for children. But it isn't "Cosmo" material either, to put a much finer point on it. Like Cybele, the author has made his own underworld journey. Perhaps that is the reason why his story evades the usual kinds of categorization. That could become a problem. Would the sexual minority (LGBT) community find it of interest, for example? Maybe, but the gay and transgendered communities have had ongoing issues. The latter has its own special set of issues as well, some of which are related to passing. That is a subject in which "Cybele" has shown virtually zero interest, however. What then? The author would assuredly call himself transgendered, but he isn't a transvestite. His qualifiers as a transsexual-pre or post-are equally dubious. Sexually, he is a tediously straight dude with a kinky bisexual babe deep inside him. And that leaves a lot unsaid. BDSM? That might be the best category, but that scene is so stylized that might not work out so well either. "Cybele" is at best a niche- offering that is not intended for the masses, though its broader appeal-human appeal, as it were-may be larger than we think. The problem will be one of distribution. It might not arouse most readers, agreed, but that does not speak to the question of its artistic merit. The writing's not bad. Might it not be passed between friends within the underground community? It insists on pointing us to the quintessential erotic soul of Miguel, but it is way too refined for pornography. It's the only true and approved biography of the Priestess of Cybele. Couldn't it become a b?te noir of one literary scene or another? Here, alas, "Cybele" might be looking for love in all the wrong places. Depending on where it ended up-I'd suggest the New York alternative arts scene and several all-girl rock bands-it might end up pregnant and barefoot, a long way from home. Then again, if it landed in precisely the right place at the right time-or with you, dear reader-perhaps love really could find a way, after all. You think? You're very sweet, but we probably shouldn't think of sending it off to Random House just yet. The author (*The Orifice at Delphi," or alternatively, cybele_mj) lives in northern Washington State, a long way from home. If you like the "Priestess of Cybele," please feel free to offer feedback at [email protected]. 1. As Above This is the story about a dark and beautiful Goddess with whom our protagonist had a long erotic connection. In a past lifetime-if such things even exist-he remembers himself as a waterfall hidden deep within the Garden of Cybele. That was when he was connected to the flow and served as one of her priestesses. Now, Cybele was the luminous Slut/Bitch Goddess who at one point held sway over the entire Fertile Crescent region. Hers was the Delta of Venus. Once upon a time, she had journeyed to the underworld to reclaim her power. All power is essentially erotic, of course, and Cybele wouldn't have sat stoically beside her mate like Persephone, waiting for him to make the first move. She would have straddled him. She was Innana, and her motto was terrible and implacable. Transgress! Transform! Transmogrify! She was the reason why good girls love bad boys though her priestesses included an inordinate number of transsexuals and eunuchs. He, alas, was a little of both. She lovingly called them her boygirls. She said it was not their fate to get the girl, but to prepare them for the getting. She endowed them with rare erotic skills, magical skills, as it were. They also cleaned up after her rituals, serving as her handmaidens. She had many lovers, and there were many such rituals. Her priestesses, though they could not satisfy as men, were well-trained to satisfy as women. Or rather as men who, having been divested of their manhood, excelled in the art of the labial (oral) caress. Hers was a reminder that their job was to make her long for satisfaction. To that end, Cybele prepared them for love in her name, transforming them into something soft and sweet and willing, and-let us not forget essentials-into something aching to be used. One of her priestesses stood out. His assignment was to please those whom she had chosen with his smooth, submissive ass (always weaving infinity signs in the air), his eager mouth-symbols of his erotic status as a boygirl in her stable. Mischievously, she cast a spell, changing his penis-which never was very big-into a candied girlcock. Its job thenceforth was to cast a spell upon her cunt so that the kind of men whom she desired would know she was available. Though he answered to many names in those days, he could no longer answer to "sir." He was definitely something else. More than a girlfriend but less than a man, he went on to become her very personal and very private boygirl. Privacy is relative, of course, and word did get around. Blush if you must, but I will tell you the story of what she made him do. Did you see how she casually played with him as he sat in attendance? See! How when she touched him there, she had his full attention! She touched his girlish nipples and he felt a bolt of lightning shoot through him! Observe! This is just the "introduction" to the Priestess of Cybele and even now he spreads his legs. Even now, he follows her to brink of the Abyss. 2. So Below Here we shall attempt to discern that which is essential to his soul as revealed through his past. I shall call him Miguel, if you must have a name. His/her story is both multileveled and sometimes even metaphoric, as all things are. It starts off personal and kinky, but in Parts 5 and 6, it gets transpersonal and tantric. First things first, however. As we shall see, Miguel aroused the Serpent Fire. Once aroused, however, someone else could usually be found riding it to completion. Up there with Cybele, there was never any subterfuge. Down here, however, there were so many questions. Up/Down? Boy/Girl? Straight/Gay? Miguel was complex, but he wasn't very digital. The most that can be said was that he was a good boy but a bad girl. Yes, he could be kittenish. And in this lifetime, he liked to be called certain names. He wasn't a weakling, however. Like any good bottom, he held most of the cards. Notice the Ace of Wands that was stealthily sequestered behind his back! No matter. Erotically, he was very much a bottom. We are told that it was Cybele who put the sizzle into those sibilant, femme-sounding labels with which he often identified. They're evocative and then some. We will use those same words and more in our story. You shall see below that he never emerged from a relationship feeling more masculine. He always felt feminized, often even sissified. The latter word fits. Streetwise terms like this in our narrative aren't there for their shock value. They describe Miguel to a tee. Why was he not married? Why is he still single? The answer is obvious. A mere boygirl by day, he longed to take it to a whole new level by night. Cybele's pet name for him used to be xxxsyboy-extraordinaire. It was at the very center of his sexual soul. Apuleius's Golden Ass has been described by some as a fable with both an inner and an outer meaning. Miguel's own ass was equally golden but it was decidedly not metaphoric. In his youth, at least, everyone wanted a piece of it. He himself didn't know what he wanted, however. Maybe there were signs. My proposal is to go back through the years and examine his love life. "Cybele" is written in the spirit of healing. It might work better for him this time around. Let's offer our insights. I would ask you to take note of your response to my narrative thus far. Are you bored? Shocked? Has my story intrigued you? If the latter, what then? What does that say about you? Aren't you just a little worried what your girlfriend(s) might think? Most women respond to the sound of "rolling thunder" in a man. It gets them wet. It takes a very confident woman to get past all of that, although she will still have normal desires. She'll think: If I liked faeries as a child, might I not find some use for a boygirl? Our boygirl was very exotic. Some women naturally dig that kind of thing. Maybe they secretly want one as a house pet. Maybe they're all from New York. Still, it's a challenge. What does one do with a boygirl? Much of "Cybele" hangs on that question. No worries. This story has a light touch, the kind of touch that you, in fact, might like on your nipples. If you have gotten this far, you may assume that our boygirl, who has exquisitely sensitive nipples himself, likes exactly the same kind of touch. Miguel had many lovers in this life, some of whom were quite striking. Most of them, however, found themselves wanting a real man on the side. Someone who was not just a boygirl. And no, they didn't always admit that openly. Alas, reliably making them cum with his penis was all too often like pushing rope uphill. Oh, he was a competent enough lover. His cock was of average size. It is true that when he was duly performing his role as a male, he probably satisfy most of his partners. For better or worse, however, he preferred to take a more feminine role in the bedroom. Early on, Miguel half-realized that his penis was actually a girlcock. He could feel the lunar energies that coursed through it. His lovers did as well. He could be a good boy and she could be a bad girl. Or she could be a very bad girl and so could he. That doesn't mean that he looked like a woman or even that he wanted to. He didn't. In the bedroom, however, he had always felt more femme than butch. He showed a transsexual streak in bed-one partner said that it was more like a landing strip at Kennedy-but most of the time, he enjoyed being a guy. He was also a bottom, however. That combination caused significant trouble to his male side. When his penis was doing its "boy" thing, it didn't have any problem bringing a very virile energy through. That was not its preferred style, however. His penis naturally excelled at delivering yin over yang. It was, as we have said, a girlcock. If you fondled his nipples, he'd start moaning in nanoseconds. In less than three seconds, you could actually hear him pant. In less than six seconds, he'd spread his legs. There was nothing very subtle about the extent of his erotic capitulation with the right person. There was an undeniable psychic connection between Miguel and his lovers. They both wanted much the same thing, though it took time for Miguel to realize it. How might a woman experience Miguel? With the proper temperament, she might get very turned-on. His girlfriends required a real man, to be sure. But most of them also enjoyed the kind of erotic dominance that they had over Miguel. They couldn't pull that off-nor did they want to-with their more alpha- oriented boyfriends. He himself wasn't interested in surgery or hormones but Miguel was not exactly an alpha male. He had a penis with neither great girth nor length. It came in at average length, yes, but what is average for men is not necessarily satisfying for women. It begs the question as to how "average" was even computed. To be potent as a man, Miguel's penis needed to radiate a convincing masculine presence. Because it was quintessentially feminine, however, it couldn't help but suggest disappointment. That led to his diminished self-confidence as a male and women picked up on that. They not only had to deal with Miguel's gender-confusions but they also had to find workable strategies with which to cope with the rising tide of sexual frustration on their side. And then there was Cybele's famous spell. It really worked. Under it, women got much clearer with themselves about what they really wanted. They then recruited our boygirl, being the natural-born pleaser that he was, to help them manifest it in their lives. He frequently felt like a pussy, knowing that he never could stake any real male claim on them. They, in turn, felt sexier than ever. Erotically, they used him to reclaim their power to attract the much rougher and more potent masculinity that they secretly craved. It is said that sex is all about communication. This is what happened. I was there and know what each person thought but failed to communicate. I know what his partners felt and what might have been achieved if only the proper "sharings" had occurred. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. It's important to note that Miguel had no memory of his time with Cybele. This was an entirely new lifetime. He wasn't swish but owing to his sexual ambivalences, many people mistakenly thought he was gay. Let's proceed. He was only three when during a childhood game, Sara Ann intuitively picked-up on the boygirl within him. She was his very first girlfriend. His own latent status as a "queer" surprised them both. He felt like a deer in the headlights. She teased him mercilessly. He reflexively fled, closing the door on his own deepest self. With it, he closed the door on his native ability, developed over many cycles, to perceive in a very special way. The door between the inner and outer worlds clanged shut. How would things have developed if, in the aftermath of that experience, he had thrown caution to the winds? What if he had been able to reclaim the self-confidence lost then? What if he could eventually remember who and what he really was? What if years later in high school with Joanne, he could have acknowledged that he was unconsciously getting-off on her dating other guys? He didn't know it at the time, of course-consciously, he was jealous and hurt-but what if he had known it? He moved on to Kathy in his sophomore year in college. She was arguably gorgeous, already sexually experienced and just barely legal. What about her? He remembers the first time they had intercourse and how she expressed disappointment. He went down on her then and for the first time ever, licked his own cum out of a pussy, spending much of the night bringing her to one thundering climax after another. Because he didn't perform so well in the penis department, however, he left her feeling defeated. She had other boyfriends, and he lost track of just whose cum he was licking. He was confused, feeling both humiliated and perversely turned on. In a parallel universe, he'd have laughed at the green monster, performed his oral oblations and been glad. He next met Toni, at the age of 23. The affair took a dive the night he took her to the home of a handsome architect and his beautiful wife. They had agreed to set this up as a foursome. Our host was able to perform several times. Miguel was not. Toni begged to be fucked yet again. Our host obliged her, with Miguel looking on just a few feet away, trying hard to hide his jealousy. A pattern emerged. His other girlfriends would not be nearly as open, but they would also look to other men for satisfaction. At that point, Miguel was pretty clueless as to what he really wanted. How might that have played out with more insight? If he knew then what he knows now, might he not have shown more gratitude to his host by eating Toni out immediately afterwards? It would have at least preserved the integrity of their relationship, even if it changed the terms of engagement. This incident was an omen of what was to be, alas. It should have prepared him for Aimee, who in five years would enter from stage right. But I digress. There were many different women in Miguel's life between the time Toni left him and the time he would meet Aimee. During these years, he tried to prove himself worthy. But he was really a boygirl at heart. His goal? He just wanted to feel more masculine. He experimented with drugs (unlike a certain president, he actually inhaled), sex and rock n' roll. He was a great fuck when stoned but he tried way too hard to push the river. He eventually even tried Reichian therapy, later Jungian therapy. The former was like trying to push a square peg into a round hole. At the ripe old age of 24, Miguel was diagnosed with a prostate condition. Right after dropping his Reichian therapist, the prostate problem went away. Go figure. Now, while many of his contemporaries came to prefer the smell of napalm in the morning during therse difficult times, Miguel himself preferred the smell of pussy. He had tried gay sex. For whatever reason, it held little appeal. This did not keep him from being widely perceived as effeminate. That, in turn, led to a even more trouble. He couldn't help being what he was, however. Because he did not know what he was, however, he often overcompensated. He had many women during these years. He remembers Kara, the girl who straddled him in the evening and then left him in the morning, running off to another guy who could reliably satisfy her. Miguel was just an ap?ritif. His forte was oral and they both knew it. Then there was Lori at work, whose boyfriend who was built like Heracles. Miguel and his very pretty hippy girlfriend, Dawn, happened to run into both of them in a sauna at a nudist growth center situated in Topanga Canyon. They all slept together in the public room. Miguel was on the end. Dawn slept next to him, sandwiched next to Heracles. Lori slept on the other end, also next to Heracles. The next morning, Dawn shamefully told Miguel that Heracles made a pass at her that night. At 4 AM, he had asked her to take a walk with him outside, without waking anyone. He told her outright he wanted to fuck her. She refused on the grounds that secrecy was unethical, that it would constitute a betrayal of Miguel. Ethics aside, there was no question that she had needed a Herculean-sized cock in her cunt that night. Tremulously, she told Miguel that she had allowed Heracles to finger-fuck her for a very long time. She admitted she had also sucked him off. She managed to do all that with Miguel sleeping peacefully beside her. She had tried so hard to be a loyal girlfriend. Picking up on what Heracles had said, she started to see Miguel in some ways as being wholly unworthy as a male. When she told Miguel what happened, he blushed. She had willingly allowed herself to be finger-fucked? He slept through it. He wondered how many times she had cum. He hated Heracles and his massive cock but he understood exactly how she felt. Unconsciously, it turned him on. He replayed the scene many times in his mind, it was so hot. If you need to blame anyone, blame Cybele. Men like Heracles would forever steal her boygirl's women. They, in turn, would forever allow themselves to be stolen. Or finger-fucked, no difference. Heracles himself had started with one finger, ending in two. And his fingers, in comparison to Miguel's, were huge. Dawn was beside herself with passion. She desperate begged to suck Heracles' cock, all without waking Miguel. She propped herself up while Heracles repositioned himself. He didn't want to wake Lori, who was sleeping right next to him. Dawn regarded Heracles' shaft as very worshipful. She swallowed most of his hot creamy cum but some remained on her chin. Miguel had noticed it, not quite knowing what it was. It changed the situation no more radically than after the architect fucked Toni, with Miguel looking on. It could have been perversely entertaining had he realized this. Too bad these girls didn't keep him around. I remember another partner of his from that period. Erin was 8 years younger than him. She was with him for almost a year. At the very end, she fucked two different guys, secretly stepping out on him in the process. He felt betrayed. She felt vindicated. And finally, there was an encounter with that very dark angel just before he met Aimee. She had actually called him a pussyboy. She meant it as an insult. Be it so. He would be invited by life to travel a parallel path that would lead him far beyond the fear of labels. Enter Aimee, from stage right. She was a beautiful and talented artist. She later went on to show her paintings and sculpture all over the world. She liked girls as well as boys. A steady diet of girlcock was bound to get old, however. She eventually took other lovers. She wanted Miguel, as she put it, to be more comfortable in his own skin. She thought he would need to more thoroughly explore his identity as a boygirl before he could do that. English was her second language, however, and she sometimes fumbled for words. One evening at a party, she spontaneously referred to Miguel as "a pretty little sissy." She wasn't quite sure what it meant. She intended it as a compliment, not hurtfully. She was trying to translate something from the French and it came out wrong. They drove home. Miguel, who felt slapped in the face, almost started to cry. He didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to do. Later on, they were alone. Instinctively, she ordered him-in French, no less-to find some erotic consolation in going down on her. He was very conciliatory. Nowadays, we can easily Google a word. A sissy, we are told, is a male who is regarded as effeminate. Now, many of Miguel's girlfriends and their lovers had come to perceive him in that light. But Aimee was reaching for yet another meaning, just out of sight. In fact, she had hit on the precise word, at least as it came to be known in certain circles. Effeminacy aside, the dots are connected only when one's woman reveals that another man might satisfy her in ways her partner couldn't. A true sissy would be very turned-on by that and Aimee thought Miguel was nothing if not a true sissy. She knew him very intimately. With a little training and encouragement, she unconsciously felt that he might show some potential. Toward the end of their relationship, she went on a vacation and was away for two months. Within a few days after her return, Miguel learned that Aimee made love to at least three different men while she was gone. He was less than overjoyed. She was forthright in elaborating on how she came to have sex with these guys. She showed him drawings she had made of their erections. She went on to compare their tools, and Miguel's as well, as if she had recently just a connoisseur of boycock. She suggested that he seriously needed to stop trying to get the girl for himself but prepare her for the getting. Secretly, he was very turned-on by her doings. He consciously denied that, however. He was subsequently given a crash course in sissification. Enter Heidi, from stage left, who was his next girlfriend. This is their story. They had been having normal sex for a few weeks before she took it into her head one night to start fondling his nipples. At first, nothing happened. He yawned and suggested she stop. She persevered, however, and after a few minutes, his nipples began to announce themselves as the true windows of his soul. It wasn't contrived. They hardened-up like small pebbles, each one burning with a jillion volts of uncensored feminine desire. The erotic sensations were overwhelming. As she sucked on them, he felt so weak he almost fainted. Heidi archly asked him what it was he wanted. He incoherently begged for something he only half-understood. Before it was over, he had taken his first dildo. In between his moans of pleasure, he plaintively kept asking he what she was doing to him. His confusion amused her greatly. She knew exactly what she was doing. All the while, he continued to rotate his ass in the tightest of circles. When they finished, they took a bath together. She powdered him, insisting that he wear a pair of her panties on his way home. It wasn't his thing but he acquiesced anyway. Was Diane Airbus right? Is all gender drag? Heidi giggled, thinking he looked cute in lace. Several weeks passed and the couple never reverted to their old vanilla pattern. Heidi believed she had turned him into her bitch and that made her hot. But didn't that also make her a dyke? Maybe so, but then with increasing urgency, she also needed a man. She should have shared some of these feelings, instead of keeping so quiet. They could have negotiated. In another scenario, Miguel might have properly thanked her. With his blessings, she might have started dating other guys. It could have saved their relationship. Brianna turned-up immediately afterwards. She was blond, beautiful and married. She was an unconscious exponent of Cybele herself. She also liked cuckolding her husband. She picked up on Miguel's secret almost immediately. She teased him about it. She loved taunting him when other guys were hitting on her. He still remembers her phone call from that Christmas party when she told him of just having danced to the sounds of "Beast of Burden" with a stranger who was fondling her ass. She asked, "What's a girl to do when that happens?" That man's advances didn't just didn't come out of the blue, thought Miguel. Brianna had even admitted she liked it. It secretly turned Miguel on, that stud's cock between her legs. It was the following morning that marked the turning point in their relationship. Her husband was traveling. Our illicit couple was able to share a quiet lunch in a cafe together. Miguel needed to vent. He was very upset at her phone call. This really happened. At the peak of his pique, so to speak, she casually reached under his shirt. She knew that once she started playing with his nipples, he would follow her anywhere. In seconds, all his masculine resolve had melted, along with all his pride. As she continued to fondle his tits, she looked deep into his eyes. Brianna was getting quite hot. She suggested that they retire to his place. She suggested that he spend much of the afternoon giving her head, nothing else. They both knew what that implied. He did as she wanted, of course. Using only his tongue, he cast a powerful spell on her cunny. She seemed to like using that particular term. She came like an exploding star, again and again and again. They didn't talk about the party anymore. A month or so later, he got a call late at night from someone who was clearly getting her brains fucked out. Whoever had called him was using a speakerphone. The voices were muffled but the woman sounded like Brianna . She called him the next morning. They met at the same cafe, where the exact same thing happened as after the first phone call. She was impossibly wet. He ate her out for what seemed like hours. He placed a second spell on her sex, making her irresistible to men. Brianna denied having sex with anyone except her husband and him, but she was very much the cock tease. She told him of "just showing" two classmates a very explicit erotic poem she had written and/or of "just playing footsie" with one of those same guys. She was an extremely attractive and sexually adventurous graduate student who almost certainly had several lovers on the side. He now imagines that she must have repeatedly rubbed his nose in her extracurricular activities. Miguel's only regret is that she didn't tell him the truth. She may have needed to lie to her husband but she didn't need to lie to him. She certainly helped grease the skids, however. He wasn't ready for Brianna at the time but he'd be ready for her now. He met Nicole immediately afterwards. She was another beauty. One night, she explicitly asked him to "prepare" her for her long distance boyfriend, whom she would be meeting the next morning. When Miguel had finished, she couldn't look him in the eye. She was the first to teasingly refer to his penis as a girlcock. She tenderly explained that it was still hoping to function like a boycock but that it could not help but have a different effect on his partners. True, some liked it best before he ate them out, some after. There was no question, however, but that his tongue was a national treasure! It had compelling magical properties which Brianna and some of his other lovers had already discovered. Nicole had it coming and going, so to speak. Miguel was proficient in both! Once a month-at the very least-she liked to spend the weekend with her long distance lover. She discovered very quickly that Miguel's ability to cast an erotic spell improved exponentially after he himself began referring to his penis as a girlcock. He was more than a little jealous of her erotic escapades, of course. She inevitably seduced him. He yielded so prettily. She learned the importance of controlling his ejaculations and of continuing to put him in his place. To make her point, Nicole reminded her reluctant sissy-her pet name for him-to be sure and wear his lace panties during the days leading up to her big weekends. She perfumed him and spent hours just sucking on his nipples. She said that she wouldn't let him cum, however, until she returned from her dates. After several such training sessions-once he was sufficiently "sissied-up," as she so indelicately put it-he was willing to do anything she asked. Miguel lived next door to her apartment and her bedroom was adjacent to his. Once, she invited a guy back to her place. They made love all night. Miguel listened to their cries of pleasure. He himself wasn't allowed to cum until she had formally released him next day. As he contritely cleaned her out with his magical tongue the next morning, he told her that she had indeed put him in his place-turning him, quite literally, into a pussyboy. She smiled. She said that she might yet turn him into something much more exotic. There was no going back, of course, since she was a law student who also endorsed open-marriage. She reassured Miguel, explaining there was no need for jealousy. She told him she could indeed cum with his girlcock. But she also needed a boycock. She explained that was the real reason why women would like boygirls. By pegging their sissy near the bottom of the food chain of masculine eroticism, their girlfriend could then set her sights on the very highest rung of the ladder. It turned them on. He met Caitlyn a few years later. She was ravishing and raven-haired, very elfin and feminine. She thought she was bisexual but wasn't quite ready for that. She called his penis a boyclit. While kissing his nipples one night, she gave him his first sissy-name. Miguel clearly remembers the morning after they first made love at her place. She was feeling rebellious and probably unsatisfied. She had chosen to play a particularly edgy and dysphonic piece of music. There was much they hadn't discussed. What he mostly remembers is her lying on the living room carpet with the front door open. She was naked and there was only the flimsiest of screen doors between herself and the world. She rotated her pussy saucily, daring Miguel to go down on her. Isis unveiled. As he did his job, he found himself wishing to put a spell on her cunt, making it hopelessly attractive to all other males of her choosing. Miguel knew that he would never fully possess her. Like a true sissy, he was ready to yield her in a heartbeat. He played Caitlyn like a blues harp. They both half-expected a tall, handsome stranger to sashay into her living room. He knew that she came much more explosively than the night before. Anyone passing on the street could have heard her cries of pleasure. She gave him a curious kind of birthday present as a reward. It consisted of a harness, a butt plug and three silicone dildos. She tactfully explained their provenance but how far could that go? She told him that each one was sized to another lover's erection. He winced. Seeing him thus, figuratively stomping his foot in a fit of girlish pique, had strangely excited her. It may now be revealed that she had hoped that they both might get off on those sex toys. Caitlyn was right. They eventually did. She instinctively knew that her present would be as erotically enticing as it was humiliating. With that well-lubricated butt plug in place, he felt a lot like Goldilocks in the story of the three bears. He just couldn't resist it. In just a weekend, he surrendered. Miguel knew after whom each of his dildos was modeled, of course. One resembled a current boyfriend's penis, the others took after two former partners. She contrived to fuck him with them anyway. After a period of skillful seduction on her part, she succeeded. Using the harness while simultaneously fondling his nipples, she fucked him with all three of her dildos over the next few days. She required that he first suck them off, of course, all the better to prepare them. Giggling, she said it was good practice. As she tweaked his tits, stabbing at them with the very tip of her tongue, our boygirl sucked "her" cock even more passionately. It was soul-destroying. She asked him to tell her which of the phallic simulacra he would most like in his ass. Caitlyn had told him that although she liked his boyclit fluttering inside her, she needed something more masculine. While he fucked her with the largest of his dildos-almost like a real man, she thought-she made him to use the smallest-sized toy on himself. She had cum several times, but he didn't, and she found even more devilish ways of frustrating him like that. When she thought his training was nearly complete, she and a boyfriend returned to her place after a date. Minx that she was, she had carefully planned this. She let Miguel know that this was the guy whose cock-size both of them coveted. She ordered her boygirl to lie absolutely still in a spare bedroom with his butt plug in place while listening to her make love next door. Her bedroom door was half open but her new boyfriend didn't know he was there. Miguel didn't dare reveal his presence. Caitlyn smiled and suggested that he play with his nipples, imagining what it was like to be her. He could hear everything they did. Caitlyn visited him later that night. Her boyfriend, who was straight and rather vanilla, had cum several times. He was snoring softly now in the next room. She asked Miguel to do his thing. He lovingly ate her out for more than an hour. She told him that when he was all sissied-up, he was as good in the oral department as her boyfriend was at fucking her. Maybe he was better. She came several times. In that respect, payback was especially sweet for Miguel. Now, it was her turn to be silent. The following week, she introduced him to her close girlfriend, Jaime, who was a high-priced model. Caitlyn lent him to her for the weekend with the restriction that Miguel must not be allowed to cum like a male. He was, she explained, her personal sissy. She knew that Jaime's boyfriend was bisexual. He was also very handsome. Miguel diligently serviced them both, spending much of his time on his knees. Before returning him to Caitlyn, they lovingly sucked his nipples and patted his ass affectionately. He knew that he could no longer pretend to be anybody's boyfriend, least of all Caitlyn's. He was terribly excited but he felt dreadfully humiliated. He thought that he needed to draw a line in the sand but he didn't know where. He sulked. He pouted. He cried. In his confusion, he told Caitlyn that he wouldn't give her access to any of his dildos. She shared hers, he should have shared his! Too bad he still wanted to be normal. It was the same old story involving jealousy, self-loathing and shame. But jealousy of dildos? He met Diane two years later in Seattle through a personals ad. By that time, he owned two dozen panties and six boxer shorts. The ratios were right. He showed them to her, stating that while he wasn't much of a cross-dresser, he couldn't help being a boygirl. He told her that panties perfectly "framed" his sex. Indeed. And for that very reason, boxer shorts no longer worked. Picking up her cue without missing the beat, Diane gave him several pairs of boyshorts for a present. She didn't give them to him out of the blue, however. He had to work for them. He had to model each one for her in a dressing room at Victoria's Secret. It was a show-stopper. He also had to pay for them at the counter himself. He blushed crimson throughout. He was very skilled at orally pleasuring a woman but he rarely went down on Diane. Was it due to an overload with others? Whatever it was, it left them in a quandary. Because his boyclit was such of a femme-on-femme tease, she often used her vibrator afterwards. While Diane did her thing, he did his. He now went into a state of hyper- attunement with her. Spreading his legs while fondling his nipples, he moaned out a litany of explicit erotic encouragements, even as her own climax approached. Though she still needed to be severely slept with, she might have found more satisfaction with our sissy. It turned them both on, seeing him so debased! With a freshly sucked dildo in hand, he could have talked her through a score of orgasms every night. Toward the very end, they went on a vacation where Diane hooked-up with a stranger. As they slow danced in front of him, he could see her partner's cock as it strained against her. She didn't go home with Miguel that night. When she finally did call him a week or so later, she gave him a choice. He could either be alone at his place or go to hers, where he could watch her make love to her new boyfriend. If he were to choose the latter, he would have to do precisely as she asked. Driven like a moth to the flame, he agreed to watch as she first danced for this guy, then sucked him off. Just before he thrust his huge dick inside her, he winked at Miguel. Involuntarily, our sissy throatily begged, "Please give my girlfriend what she needs!" In mock outrage, Diane reproached him for calling her "his" girlfriend. She ordered him to leave her bedroom at once. For the next few hours, he listened to her partner fuck her senseless. He blushed furiously as they greeted him in the kitchen the next morning. Not content with a single humiliation, she extended the same choice to him again. His performance would be choreographed by Diane. Thoroughly chastened while clad only in boyshorts, he dared not cross any lines of etiquette the second time around. Miguel was the initiatrix who prepared her. He was later required to taste of her affair. It was well-understood that a mere sissy could never hope to satisfy her. Her boyfriend actually did. She now belonged to another. Her demonstration of that was breathtaking. He had several other lovers afterwards. Here I am including the two J's. He really liked going down on them. They liked it too, especially since they always came repeatedly. Though the cum he licked was usually his own, they told him it was good practice. Next came Karina. Miguel had done some nice things for her. She felt appropriately grateful. There was also a real spark between them. She was a blonde, very pretty and sexy in a repressed kind of way. She had just separated from her husband. Because she was still married and came from a conservative background, Miguel told her that he only wanted a friendship. She suggested that she wanted much more. In an effort to discourage her, Miguel told her about his sexuality, which he described as alternative. He said that having a romantic or sexual scene with her was next to impossible for a variety of reasons. He told her that he was a boygirl. He didn't fit into any of the usual labels under the term "transgender," but that's what he was. He was different. He thought she would be discouraged and move on. Instead, she continued to probe. For reasons he will never understand, he casually referred to a transgender story that he had once written. She asked what its name was and without thinking, he gave it to her. She was a master of the Internet search and she subsequently found that story. When she told Miguel that she had read it, you could hear a pin drop in the room. His heart stopped beating. His inner boygirl was busted. He blushed deeply. He didn't know what to do. They talked about it and he learned that while she wasn't specifically looking for that sort of thing, she found herself getting very turned-on. When she then actually called him a "sissy" out-loud, he lowered his eyes and his breath caught in his throat. She now had the upper hand and insisted on visiting him at his place overlooking the lake. She seduced him the moment she started fondling his tits. She knew that he had a girlcock and she told him she needed a boycock. She wanted to see what would happen. In previous relationships, there was always a gradual period of disclosure. Here, it occurred all at once. They were just about to have sex. Quite spontaneously, he opened his nightstand drawer. He reached into the drawer and showed her his set of dildos. Shame on him for withholding them so long. The smallest dildo was just seven inches in length. It was actually it longer than his girlcock, assuming that the latter achieved its full erectile potency-which, while wearing panties-was a very dubious proposition. Miguel knew his girlcock would never satisfy her, and then she confirmed it. So he seduced her with his dildo. He sucked it first. Then he teased the entrance to her pussy till she begged to be fucked. Later on that night, she would be ready for his tongue. She told him she preferred the smallest dildo over the largest one, but that was just at the beginning. She had multiple orgasms as he fucked her, carrying her up one plateau to the next. She writhed in erotic abandon, a fierce look of satisfaction on her face. When he wielded his dildo, Miguel was quite formidable. Conversely, when he gave head, he was very much a pussy. The truth, however is that he loved fucking Karina with his dildo almost as much as eating her out. Was that the kind of "integration of opposites" the Jungians intended? She came to him either way. And since they preferred different sizes, they soon joined their two dildos together. She came to prefer the biggest one while simultaneously fucking him with a somewhat smaller one. Naturally, they both came en femme. They stayed in bed all day. For the first time, she recognized just how seductive male power could be. She liked wielding it. She liked its phallic texture. He was such a little sissy. Turning him into a boygirl was so easy. All she had to do was to kiss his nipples. This quasi-lesbian relationship worked just fine until she too hooked up with stranger. It wasn't that she found more satisfaction with this guy. She loved the dildo but she also craved boycock. The sexual carousel came around. She grabbed the brass ring. Unfortunately, Miguel had not yet come to terms with himself. He still secretly wanted to get the girl for himself, not just prepare her for the getting. Years passed. The wheel turned. On vacation in Canada one summer, he met Carol. Carol was his next great love. She was hotter than a pistol but she was demurely vanilla. She was classy, creative and beautiful. She was from Kansas, however, while he was from Oz. She had trouble with the notion of a sissy, for example. Like most women, she intuitively sensed that Miguel was a boygirl. She was genuinely aroused by that but she was also a little uncomfortable. She was anxious about where it might take her. She cared what her girlfriends might think. Though she responded with unfeigned passion, her feelings of lust were unwanted. In her confusion, she gave a lot of double messages. For example, she kissed his nipples till he spread like a girl. Next, she said that many men were similarly sensitive. He thought not. He remembers her telling him about her last boyfriend back home in St. Louis. She had caught him on bet with a girlfriend. Shortly afterwards, she concluded he was a "womanizer." A subtext for that might be that he was also a good lay. She had split up with this guy-no womanizer for her-but then they got back together for just one night. At first, Carol told Miguel they were chaste. Weeks later, she admitted that, yes, they just had oral sex. Still, she maintained they didn't fuck. Miguel went down on her after her first confession (chastity). Immediately after her initial orgasm-she was shaken to her core-Carol exclaimed with doe-eyes, "Oh, my God! You really got me good!" Then she shivered with lust once again. Strange choice of words! Miguel felt that she had given him a false compliment. His job was not to get the girl for himself, he recalled, but to prepare her for the getting. As a sissy, therefore, he was simply doing his job. He could do no more. His magical tongue had a mind of its own. It had the unique power to arouse in Carol's pussy a very specific memory. At the moment she came, might she not have been thinking of that guy back home, who assuredly had "gotten" her? Miguel certainly was. She never had used that particular expression before, but then Miguel often referred to his penis as a "girlcock." She yearned to be taken by a hot possessive shaft with a lot more gravitas than that! Here, she might have been thinking of a stallion! When Miguel couldn't get it up on a couple of occasions, Carol smiled indulgently, saying it didn't matter. Indeed, it did not. Only honesty mattered. This was, on both sides of the aisle, an existential issue related to an unfulfilled need for erotic acknowledgement. Caitlyn had once coquettishly observed that his "boyclit felt all- aflutter" inside her, even as he came. Rather than feeling insulted, he secretly liked her choice of words. It sounded so femme that he blushed. He felt validated to his core, which is what occurs in good sex. Might not his inability to achieve an erection with Carol have been a last, desperate effort to convince her of what he actually was? If his boy parts weren't working very well, perhaps she might finally begin to validate him as a boygirl? He was increasingly feeling so soft that he was forgetting how to get hard. Was that his new trajectory? Was he destined not just to become a pussy-hearted sissy, but also a cuckold-hearted eunuch (Ed., in fairness to eunuchs, they often can erections). He didn't want to be anyone's eunuch, however, except, perhaps, Cybele's. Previously, his penis had been pretty reliable. He had also begun to accept it for what it was, not for what it wasn't. It had its own brand of sex appeal. It was, as it were, his Ace of Cups. The first time he couldn't get it up with Carol, she was about to take a cab to the airport. He should have opened his nightstand drawer and let her choose amongst his dildos, all different sizes. He didn't, but it would have been interesting to see which one she picked! She thought: He's not that bad in bed but his cock wasn't large. He was in top form orally but she preferred that prior to penetration with his shaft! She preferred to cum while he fucked her! While ANY man fucked her! With him, she just needed more preparation. He thought his iconic girlcock wasn't even working. There wasn't much time, there was a cab to catch, and he needed to do something quick. How to prepare her for the getting? I am guessing that if he were asked to pick out a dildo just then, it would have been BIG! The Mile High Club? If it worked as a shared fantasy, why not? Perhaps she would fuck a fellow passenger? Perhaps the plane's captain? She said it didn't matter if he was still flaccid? Let her tell it to the judge after cumming repeatedly, just before catching her cab! That didn't happen, of course, and their discussions along these lines ("many men have sensitive tits") became ever more tedious. Not until the very end did she admit that she needed anything more. This was a loss to them both, given his fine collection of dildos. Things wound down and it was quite hurtful. Carol finally got laid-by a musician, no less. Shortly afterwards, she told Miguel about it and then said, "You were right. You really are a sissy. I guess I needed a MAN. No hard feelings. Let's move on!" The problem was not that she expressed these final insights. It was that she had been in denial too long. Getting her to admit to the truth was a thankless job. It would have been much more fun, and far less painful, had she acknowledged all this from the start! FACT: He was skilled at arousing female desire and he was equally adept at leaving it unsatisfied, at teasing. What he didn't realize is that he wasn't just a victim in his failed relationships. When the tease got to a certain level, he was in full collusion. Miguel went through a sea change. He decided that he had had enough of women who didn't know what they felt, much less what they wanted. Moreover, he was repelled at the idea of hooking up in the future with anyone who didn't absolutely love boygirls. There are no absolutes, however, only exceptions. Ambivalence and self- loathing no longer worked, neither on his side nor that of his partners. How to find love, when he still regarded his inner sissy with suspicion or at best grudging forbearance? Miguel was no longer young. Moreover, he still preferred attractive, even strikingly beautiful women. He knew that at this juncture, few of them had any interest in hooking up with a boygirl. Recognizing that his options were few, Miguel turned to the Internet. Here, he connected with two women who helped him regain his footing. The implicit rule, however, was that there should be no real life meetings ever. Just emails. And what emails! Many turned into long erotic stories that pushed their boundaries to the limit! On a much deeper level, it helped him remember Cybele. His correspondents gave him permission to step through certain doors. He reciprocated. They admitted to desires they themselves had never before acknowledged. They discovered what to do with a boygirl. 3. Intermezzo Remember Cybele's motto? Well, next we're about to look at a series of transgressions that, after certain transformations had been wrought, made for some very pretty transmogrifications. It would confirm his true erotic status as a xxxxyboy extraordinaire. All good eroticism is lyrical, and as your editor,it has been important for me to distinguish a sweetness of style from one that's merely pornographic. The former is seductive, even hypnotic. The latter is not. However, both exist in these emails. Shame-based and power-based eroticism are included in the mix. It's unavoidable. That's where our culture is, and it's a sadomasochistic culture, no less. Down here, power's been so sexualized that it often displaces love. I have no copies of Miguel's side of the correspondence, but one can infer from the emails on the other side that he was supportive, authentic and attentive, inspiring great feeling in turn. I think that he might have been very proud of that. You must decide whether my editing of these emails has worked for you. It would be a mistake, however, to adversely judge their merit just because they are hot. I am inclined to believe that a few of them have a soft, vulnerable underbelly. The writers have asked and answered the question of what they might do with a boygirl. Their fantasies show acuity of insight. They were rewarded in ways that they themselves confess to. This wasn't just a carnal rubbing together of pussies. It went pretty deep. I'll recount the scenes in these emails in rather clipped terms, sparing you any lengthy back-and-forth. The only time I'll use quotes (those are the direct quotes) is if I believe a particular description was noteworthy. Happily, there are many such instances. I'll identify the correspondents respectively as Debbie and Nikki, each in her mid-thirties. In this story, I have changed their real names. In the biographical part of the story immediately above, I sometimes, but not always, did the same. 4. As Below Debbie's opening riff in the very first email recounts a fairly vanilla blowjob with her significant other. She then goes into a graphic description of how it feels to be fucked. Finally, she takes the plunge. She writes: "I am aching to be used in this way. When I am done with this email, I am going to go lay down on my bed and slowly rub my pussy until it is ready for a large penis-shaped dildo that I keep for this very purpose." In the next email, she acknowledges that Miguel has just told her about his gender issues. She's from the big city, however, and while all this is all new to her, she registers no noticeable flap. Her reply is quite graphic. "Thank you for sharing your feminine self. I guessed as much. I've had my own fantasy about being with a woman and ask you to be patient with me. Yep, it's tacky for me to think about a girl when I make love with my man, but it turns me on nonetheless." [Ed note: Debbie talks about Miguel's feminine persona and tentatively gives it a name.] " . . . . But your femmy alter ego, Michaela, stops, my hips writhing on the bed as she holds my hands above my head. She insists that I kiss your hard little nipples. I raise my head and languidly probe them with the tip of my tongue. "Just then, she tests the entrance of my pussy with the tip of her very hard dildo. As she teases my pussy lips, I begin to learn my lesson: I must please you before Michaela will give me what I need. And it pleases you that I keep fucking your nipples with my tongue. "I have never before met a man with such sensitivity. I bet you can cum with just this kind of stimulation alone. I know that I can. But then you're not really a man, are you? Later, I suck on your girlish tongue. It penetrates me in time with the penetration below." You may be wondering if I'm using this email exchange as a fictional prop. Did I make it up? No, I did not. Cybele's boygirl has a silver tongue. We don't know what he said to Debbie, but it absolutely got her attention. She continues: "I can't help it and I begin moaning as your mouth starts to consume me. You put your arms around me, holding me tight, yet somehow managing to turn me over, never breaking our delicious connection. I love how you kiss me, now with unbridled passion. "As the dildo slides slowly in and out, you move yourself upwards, so that your nipples are conveniently just above my mouth. Ah, how you moan! Your girlcock throbs with desire when I alternately tease your titties, first with my tongue and then with my fingers. "As you climb that helpless peak leading to ton petit mort, I pinch your nipples lightly-feminine desire on feminine desire that grows stronger each moment. You succumb, caught in that irreversible tide sweeping us out of this world and into the next." Not everything is quoted here as this exchange reflects over a year's worth of emails. What's important, however, is to note that the film "Debbie Does Dallas" has nothing over the Debbie in these pages. Our Debbie is much more passionate, to say the least. She writes: "Don't think your letters to me are falling into a black hole; it's just that I'm uncertain what to do with them. I want to taste you. I know that you taste sweet! I want to see you melt when I touch your nipples, not just read about it! "I want to wrap my legs around your back, I want my collar around your throat, and I want you to service my girlfriends. Maybe I'd lend you out to them for that very purpose! I want to hear your moans, feel the tease of your girlcock (never quite satisfying) and smell your sweat. "If I were looking deeply into your eyes, I would kiss you softly, slowly, my tongue darting lightly between your lips. You are like a fast flowing river! I would turn the boy in you inside out and make you admit you're a pussy. I fear to take a first step, that I might be carried away!" Debbie next walks him through a fantasy scene with another woman. In the end, everyone fucks everyone else. The two women get fucked in the usual way, and all three of them get fucked in the ass. It's pretty convoluted and there are two alternate endings. Then, there's the scene with the two-headed dildo. Debbie wants to fuck Miguel, making him cum like a woman. She's greedy, however, as she herself also craves orgasm. What's a girl to do? This is what she dreams up. "You and I are in a partial state of undress, you with your shirt off, and we are passionately kissing. My mouth drops to your exposed breasts, at first softly kissing each one and then fucking your nipples more firmly. Your knees begin to buckle with desire. "You fall helplessly backwards onto the bed, my mouth following you down. I slowly fuck your titties with my tongue, insistently probing and biting, your legs involuntarily spreading beneath me, your mouth softly opened. You can't help it. You are panting. "My warm mouth descends even lower, kissing its way towards your boyclit, but only lingering for a moment on its head, teasing you, before I continue my downwards travel. You will become my bitch before the night is over. "I slowly lick the skin between your legs where your cunny might be, hearing your groans, your head thrown back. I lick you like you were a woman, softly and insistently. I gently roll you over on your stomach, first petting and then kissing your ass cheeks. "All your erotic feelings have come to be focused between them. In the future, I shall refer to your ass as your "cunt," for that's exactly the purpose it shall serve! When you are finally prepared, your cunt is high in the air with a pillow under your clitty, "Such an inviting target. I slowly slide a finger into your well- lubricated cunt. It's warm and tight, and after introducing yet another finger, I slowly fuck you until it's time for something larger. I get out a harness and fasten into it a two-headed dildo. "One end is going to satisfy me and the other is for you. I need you to lubricate the end destined for my pussy, and while you are positioned so seductively on the bed, I ask you to you suck the cock intended for me, in order to be sure that it is ready. "I always knew you were a good little cocksucker, Michael-Jane! I love how you give head. You watch as I don the harness in front of you, being sure you have a good view of the thick dildo that spreads me so wide, my face contorted in pleasure. "You are glad that the end of the dildo meant for you is a slightly slimmer version of the one impaling my swollen cunt, but you don't want anything too small. I move behind you, and insert the last bit of lubrication to make sure that you are ready. "The harness and your end of the double-dildo are also ready! Restraining my lust, I press the head of "my" well-lubricated cock into your pussy very slowly. I gently begin to fuck you, although my instinct is to thrust deeply, desiring a reciprocal thrust in my cunt. "At last, I am completely enclosed deep in your tight little pussy and I bend forward, my body in intimate contact with yours. I thrust now very deeply and with increasing urgent speed, my fingers reaching around so that I can tease your fiery nipples. "I whisper in your ear, telling you how much pleasure you give me. Each time I impale you, the other dildo thrusts into me. You confess you're my sweet little bitch. Our boundaries blur as the sexual tension increases, each of us fucking and being fucked. "My end of the dildo causes me to cum repeatedly. As I do, I helplessly thrust deeper inside you, triggering your own release. You moan in ecstasy, your girl cum spurting through my caressing fingers. We collapse into a writhing pile of humanity." Now, it's time to introduce Nikki, who never once saw any of the emails exchanged with Debbie. Notice the difference in their styles. Toward the beginning, Nikki scores several bull's-eyes in a row. She astutely offers Miguel an invitation that he cannot refuse: "You have suggested how a relationship with you might look if it were allowed to run its course. It would almost certainly be monogamous for you, but not necessarily for your partner. You'd have to find a way to live with that, even thrive on it. "You have been fortunate enough to explore your potential. I'm a different kind of girl from most and while I'd readily admit that I need a stud in my life, what you have told me really turns me on. I'd like to share more of my fantasies with you. What do you think?" Soon, Nikki changes gears. She creates a scene where she and Miguel have been dating for awhile. She has suspicions about him, however, and she decides to test the waters. They go dancing at the local blues bar where she's dressed very provocatively. She writes: "Around midnight we were resting at a dark little table when a very handsome guy came up to me, confiding that he had been watching me all night. He invited me to dance with him. You started to tell him I was tired, but I cut you off in mid-sentence. "No, I was not tired! I started flirting with him at that point, ignoring you and telling him I wanted to wait for a nice slow song to come along. The music changed and he held his hand out to me. I started toward the dance floor, then stopped and went back to the table. "It was dark enough that I could quickly reach up under my mini and peel off my little red bikinis. I shoved them into your breast pocket and arranged them like a hankie, slapped your face gently, kissed you on the lips and slipped my tongue into your mouth. "'I'm too hot for these, honey,' I whispered. 'Keep them cool for me' The new guy pulled me quickly to the dance floor. His name was Tom.