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Matty and Shar:
When he became Matty instead of Mattie, she believed he would love her. She
thought of him incessantly, dreamed him when she touched herself. He was her
world, caught up in university, when she dreamed the boy the girl, and
things were never to be the same again. And she the girl become boy. She was
smart and brave and all the things Boy Scouts should be, and when she became
he, then she knew the stars would finally align correctly. She had never
been one whit of a boy. She had always hated it, until Mattie, girl to
become boy. And Shar, boy to become girl. As it had been before, they had
tried. They had believed as hard as they could. And now Matty and Shar sat
underneath the summer tree here in the beginning of October, a nice yellow
harvest moon shining the night down on them.
Shar, they had decided, would keep that name. It could be either sex. They
held each other this time, one over the border, the other the other
direction. It should have been simple. Mattie would be pronounced in no
uncertain terms. For Shar had not had anything to do with boys, except
Mattie, because he had been an effeminate boy, and she had found herself,
himself, drawn to him, because she got to imagine him a girl. His hair was
brown and shiny and shoulder length, and his body was thin, with tiny waist,
with long legs that wore jeans uncuffed. For some time Mattie was a
confusion to Shar. Shar had never been attracted to boys, not once. Even
when they went beyond petting, even when Shar felt the erection in Mattie's
jeans and it was intriguing, it was somehow belonging to a girl, as she
unzipped him and took out his five inch penis and as it was milked with awe
in her hand, her hand became the hand of a boy, not that of a girl, and his
penis was that of a girl's, for it seemed of her, seemed to fit, as though
it were the most normal thing in the world.
Shar had never cared for breasts that were large, but only ones that were
small and boyish, and when it happened, though they still dressed unisex,
their tie dyed scarves, their long paisley shirts, their jeans and sandals,
when it became girl to boy and boy to girl, they would somehow become the
same sex. Shar's hair had always been cut short. Her jaw had always been
determined, as she pretended to be stocky and rough, though she wasn't at
all, and now she put away he, now, but a straw girl become a straw boy, and
when Mattie touched her vagina the first time, examined it the first time,
he said, she said, that her, his, vagina was perfect for a boy, perfect for
the boy Mattie, Matty, had always wanted to touch, and examined it closely,
touching it, as she had touched his, her, penis, and both believed they were
of one world, one skin, and sexuality was transferred. Delayed never. But
here was harvest. Here was the beginning of simply everything.
And now, late night, no one else around, they put their hands on each
other, as they tried to remember when they pretended with each other. When
boy pretended girl and when girl pretended boy, both of them needing their
dreams pegged to each other, making them what they were not, but a certain
designation that meant both boy and girl and girl and boy were able to rise
above themselves and what mistakes nature had made, for now they knew, or
then they knew nature had not made a mistake. For it had meant they were
made for each other. For it had meant they were forever caught, penis in
vagina, girl. In boy instead of the other way round. This they had finally
declared, for they were normally very shy, Shar and Mattie. They had been
tossed together in laughs on campus, for they seemed to be brother and
brother or brother and sister or sister and sister or brother and sister,
for though Mattie had been a bit darker of skin, and Shar a bit lighter,
they looked^×together. They looked complete in and of themselves. The jokes
brought them together, when they had heard enough of them when separate.
Mattie had come to Shar's room or Shar had come to Mattie's room, or Matty's
room, and they had said almost at the same time, knowing each the other,
what the hell is everybody laughing at us fors^×and then stopped, and then
knew, not in a meeting cute moment, but in something that bordered on
salvation.
Boy to girl and girl to boy, these were hurdles that need not have mattered.
Penis became feminine, so lickable, and small breasts, so lickable, became
masculine; vagina had become male and balls were kissed and sex happened, as
each lost their virginity. As each fell in love because it seemed they had
to. Because it seemed there were no other codes to break apart. They did not
discuss these things as much as lived them. They were together as often as
possible. They moved into room together. They ate together. They went to
movies together. They heroically washed the oily beads of shame and hurt and
being different off each other. That took some time. A year of hurting the
hurts and scaring away the fears, of learning each in their own way that it
didn't matter that students their age, or teachers, or parents, or whoever
the hell could not decide who was a girl and who was a boy in the pair.
Because it made being them not being them and being them most regardfully,
most soundly, most eclectically. As though home had come calling. And they
had this nascent wish inside, not binding, not flame blowing, but there
nonetheless..if only Matty would become a girl and change his name, and
Matty thinking if only Shar would become a boy, and change her name, thus in
the beginning of their junior year, they had felt the need of this grow a
little and a bit more, kind of a label tag or a size tag on a dress bought,
that could not be pulled from the fabric. Right at the back of the neck.
That would irritate the there. That would make it itch. There was more and
more scratching after an attempt to ignore it, and hope to get used to it.
But they could not. Matty thought of it as having had a haircut, though he
had not had one since he started university, since he was able to push
outwards, if only inwardly, and pretend to be a girl, mold his soft voice
into a higher register as best as he could duplicate what he would sound
like if his wish was granted. But he had loved his penis and never wanted to
get rid of it, and yet there was the conflict. He wore panties he had bought
after he got over the shame and courage to buy them. It took days of
agonizing to make the decision to make that purchase. And he loved the feel
of them on his body; round his slope off hips, making his penis harder than
it had been before. How he loved to masturbate on the panties and feel like
a girl, because that was how it was for him. Rubbing his penis,
masturbating, imagining it with boys and girls, but always coming on the
side of girls, and in them, wondering what it would be, and imagining
cumming on their small breasts, these things to him meant he was a she.
There was no doubt of it.
As it had been not this way for Shar. She had always been fascinated by her
vagina, from a little girl on, and this was proof that she was not a girl,
but a boy. She had loved to soap it and wash it in the bath, from something
like seven years old. She had always known she was a boy, and did not miss
not having a penis, even before she knew what a penis was. She had been a
great baseball player and went through all kinds of hell when she was not
allowed on the baseball team in high school. She, he, could climb trees and
dribble basketball in her driveway and make the hoops often as not. She
loved to be himself and she loved to party in high school till she was
stoned stoke to the gills, fascinated to see boys and girls playing strip
poker, drawn to them, to the sidelines because even then she was considered
weird, which was bad enough, and she pretended never to let himself know
this, for it might kill him. She had been drawn to vaginas at these parties,
and she had been drawn also to penises, erect and pumping in girls' mouths
while the boys played with the girls' snatches, and fingered herself as no
one noticed her sitting there, mostly still clothed and feeling her penis
where there was none. And that quite simply meant the very opposite of
absence.
And now, tonight, history complete, they lay under the summer tree in the
October cool with the harvest moon looking down on them. Boy to girl and
girl to boy and penis there and vagina here and stroke and excite and lips
to kiss, and arms to cover and clothes to take off, slowly, longingly,
teasingly, and penis erect at vagina wet and inward they took each other and
they kissed tits and breasts and they were Matty, wrong name for the sex
Matty was now, but that was part of the plan. Matty no longer had to dress
up in his sister's clothes when he was a boy, a girl, at home, and be
fearful of his `rents or his sister coming back earlier than they said, eyes
always on the doors, always ears pitched to the tiniest sounds like a key in
the lock, for he made sure always to lock all the doors at such times, to
give himself a lead time, herself, a lead time, to dress in boy clothes,
secret panties of sis's underneath, or make a run to the bathroom and hide.
He, she, was caught only once. And it was treated as a joke. A horrible mean
one.
And Shar told him of the jokes played on her as well, and in fury with the
past, in sadness with singular tears at night all those long childhood years
ago, they were naked in the darkness, and Matty's penis had been hard as it
had become her vagina, and Shar's vagina had become his penis, and this was
they the way they transcended themselves, for they had changed a bit into
the other. They had accomplished something they believed no one else ever
had, for they were young and unknowing of the world around them. But they
were deeply knowing of the world inside themselves and inside the other.
They were physically the same, but in transit, something had occurred;
street corners lost their usual names; roads that should have led to the
same places they always did, regardless of how circuitous the route, led now
to the edge of the world, or another country, with words and symbols and
sights and desires and loves and friendships that never existed for them
before them.
And girl shot his sperm into a boy whose vagina massaged her love's penis
and took all she had to offer, as he felt her penis massaged by her vagina
muscles, and hips pressed downward and hips pressed up to the sky, as they
united, as they became, they believed, and who is to say they were wrong?,
one forever, and never to be boy and girl again, but only themselves, which
was the one thing they had wanted all along, even before they had known it.
Jokes had broken their hearts. Jokes had brought them to each other.
Sometimes irony is a good and happy thing.
When he became Matty instead of Mattie, she believed he would love her. She
thought of him incessantly, dreamed him when she touched herself. He was her
world, caught up in university, when she dreamed the boy the girl, and
things were never to be the same again. And she the girl become boy. She was
smart and brave and all the things Boy Scouts should be, and when she became
he, then she knew the stars would finally align correctly. She had never
been one whit of a boy. She had always hated it, until Mattie, girl to
become boy. And Shar, boy to become girl. As it had been before, they had
tried. They had believed as hard as they could. And now Matty and Shar sat
underneath the summer tree here in the beginning of October, a nice yellow
harvest moon shining the night down on them.
Shar, they had decided, would keep that name. It could be either sex. They
held each other this time, one over the border, the other the other
direction. It should have been simple. Mattie would be pronounced in no
uncertain terms. For Shar had not had anything to do with boys, except
Mattie, because he had been an effeminate boy, and she had found herself,
himself, drawn to him, because she got to imagine him a girl. His hair was
brown and shiny and shoulder length, and his body was thin, with tiny waist,
with long legs that wore jeans uncuffed. For some time Mattie was a
confusion to Shar. Shar had never been attracted to boys, not once. Even
when they went beyond petting, even when Shar felt the erection in Mattie's
jeans and it was intriguing, it was somehow belonging to a girl, as she
unzipped him and took out his five inch penis and as it was milked with awe
in her hand, her hand became the hand of a boy, not that of a girl, and his
penis was that of a girl's, for it seemed of her, seemed to fit, as though
it were the most normal thing in the world.
Shar had never cared for breasts that were large, but only ones that were
small and boyish, and when it happened, though they still dressed unisex,
their tie dyed scarves, their long paisley shirts, their jeans and sandals,
when it became girl to boy and boy to girl, they would somehow become the
same sex. Shar's hair had always been cut short. Her jaw had always been
determined, as she pretended to be stocky and rough, though she wasn't at
all, and now she put away he, now, but a straw girl become a straw boy, and
when Mattie touched her vagina the first time, examined it the first time,
he said, she said, that her, his, vagina was perfect for a boy, perfect for
the boy Mattie, Matty, had always wanted to touch, and examined it closely,
touching it, as she had touched his, her, penis, and both believed they were
of one world, one skin, and sexuality was transferred. Delayed never. But
here was harvest. Here was the beginning of simply everything.
And now, late night, no one else around, they put their hands on each
other, as they tried to remember when they pretended with each other. When
boy pretended girl and when girl pretended boy, both of them needing their
dreams pegged to each other, making them what they were not, but a certain
designation that meant both boy and girl and girl and boy were able to rise
above themselves and what mistakes nature had made, for now they knew, or
then they knew nature had not made a mistake. For it had meant they were
made for each other. For it had meant they were forever caught, penis in
vagina, girl. In boy instead of the other way round. This they had finally
declared, for they were normally very shy, Shar and Mattie. They had been
tossed together in laughs on campus, for they seemed to be brother and
brother or brother and sister or sister and sister or brother and sister,
for though Mattie had been a bit darker of skin, and Shar a bit lighter,
they looked^×together. They looked complete in and of themselves. The jokes
brought them together, when they had heard enough of them when separate.
Mattie had come to Shar's room or Shar had come to Mattie's room, or Matty's
room, and they had said almost at the same time, knowing each the other,
what the hell is everybody laughing at us fors^×and then stopped, and then
knew, not in a meeting cute moment, but in something that bordered on
salvation.
Boy to girl and girl to boy, these were hurdles that need not have mattered.
Penis became feminine, so lickable, and small breasts, so lickable, became
masculine; vagina had become male and balls were kissed and sex happened, as
each lost their virginity. As each fell in love because it seemed they had
to. Because it seemed there were no other codes to break apart. They did not
discuss these things as much as lived them. They were together as often as
possible. They moved into room together. They ate together. They went to
movies together. They heroically washed the oily beads of shame and hurt and
being different off each other. That took some time. A year of hurting the
hurts and scaring away the fears, of learning each in their own way that it
didn't matter that students their age, or teachers, or parents, or whoever
the hell could not decide who was a girl and who was a boy in the pair.
Because it made being them not being them and being them most regardfully,
most soundly, most eclectically. As though home had come calling. And they
had this nascent wish inside, not binding, not flame blowing, but there
nonetheless..if only Matty would become a girl and change his name, and
Matty thinking if only Shar would become a boy, and change her name, thus in
the beginning of their junior year, they had felt the need of this grow a
little and a bit more, kind of a label tag or a size tag on a dress bought,
that could not be pulled from the fabric. Right at the back of the neck.
That would irritate the there. That would make it itch. There was more and
more scratching after an attempt to ignore it, and hope to get used to it.
But they could not. Matty thought of it as having had a haircut, though he
had not had one since he started university, since he was able to push
outwards, if only inwardly, and pretend to be a girl, mold his soft voice
into a higher register as best as he could duplicate what he would sound
like if his wish was granted. But he had loved his penis and never wanted to
get rid of it, and yet there was the conflict. He wore panties he had bought
after he got over the shame and courage to buy them. It took days of
agonizing to make the decision to make that purchase. And he loved the feel
of them on his body; round his slope off hips, making his penis harder than
it had been before. How he loved to masturbate on the panties and feel like
a girl, because that was how it was for him. Rubbing his penis,
masturbating, imagining it with boys and girls, but always coming on the
side of girls, and in them, wondering what it would be, and imagining
cumming on their small breasts, these things to him meant he was a she.
There was no doubt of it.
As it had been not this way for Shar. She had always been fascinated by her
vagina, from a little girl on, and this was proof that she was not a girl,
but a boy. She had loved to soap it and wash it in the bath, from something
like seven years old. She had always known she was a boy, and did not miss
not having a penis, even before she knew what a penis was. She had been a
great baseball player and went through all kinds of hell when she was not
allowed on the baseball team in high school. She, he, could climb trees and
dribble basketball in her driveway and make the hoops often as not. She
loved to be himself and she loved to party in high school till she was
stoned stoke to the gills, fascinated to see boys and girls playing strip
poker, drawn to them, to the sidelines because even then she was considered
weird, which was bad enough, and she pretended never to let himself know
this, for it might kill him. She had been drawn to vaginas at these parties,
and she had been drawn also to penises, erect and pumping in girls' mouths
while the boys played with the girls' snatches, and fingered herself as no
one noticed her sitting there, mostly still clothed and feeling her penis
where there was none. And that quite simply meant the very opposite of
absence.
And now, tonight, history complete, they lay under the summer tree in the
October cool with the harvest moon looking down on them. Boy to girl and
girl to boy and penis there and vagina here and stroke and excite and lips
to kiss, and arms to cover and clothes to take off, slowly, longingly,
teasingly, and penis erect at vagina wet and inward they took each other and
they kissed tits and breasts and they were Matty, wrong name for the sex
Matty was now, but that was part of the plan. Matty no longer had to dress
up in his sister's clothes when he was a boy, a girl, at home, and be
fearful of his `rents or his sister coming back earlier than they said, eyes
always on the doors, always ears pitched to the tiniest sounds like a key in
the lock, for he made sure always to lock all the doors at such times, to
give himself a lead time, herself, a lead time, to dress in boy clothes,
secret panties of sis's underneath, or make a run to the bathroom and hide.
He, she, was caught only once. And it was treated as a joke. A horrible mean
one.
And Shar told him of the jokes played on her as well, and in fury with the
past, in sadness with singular tears at night all those long childhood years
ago, they were naked in the darkness, and Matty's penis had been hard as it
had become her vagina, and Shar's vagina had become his penis, and this was
they the way they transcended themselves, for they had changed a bit into
the other. They had accomplished something they believed no one else ever
had, for they were young and unknowing of the world around them. But they
were deeply knowing of the world inside themselves and inside the other.
They were physically the same, but in transit, something had occurred;
street corners lost their usual names; roads that should have led to the
same places they always did, regardless of how circuitous the route, led now
to the edge of the world, or another country, with words and symbols and
sights and desires and loves and friendships that never existed for them
before them.
And girl shot his sperm into a boy whose vagina massaged her love's penis
and took all she had to offer, as he felt her penis massaged by her vagina
muscles, and hips pressed downward and hips pressed up to the sky, as they
united, as they became, they believed, and who is to say they were wrong?,
one forever, and never to be boy and girl again, but only themselves, which
was the one thing they had wanted all along, even before they had known it.
Jokes had broken their hearts. Jokes had brought them to each other.
Sometimes irony is a good and happy thing.
