The eight words that led to the revelation that changed everything were: Hey, I didn't want to say anything, but...
It had been about a month since you'd moved in. The rent in the gentrified apartment building was too high to handle by myself; I'd moved in with my ex before she became my ex, and when she moved out, I'd needed the quickest, most reliable roommate I could find. You were a few years younger and still had the party-boy, care-free affect of a recent college graduate, but the agency downtown where you did graphic design had a good reputation and paid well. I could fairly be accused of being a bit uptight and straitlaced—junior architect stereotypes and all, guilty and all—but I couldn't be accused of lacking pragmatism. I could make it work.
At first, my gratitude at finding a roommate had eclipsed our differences. I put up with cereal bowls left on the counter with standing milk. I tolerated sharing the beer in the refrigerator. When your girlfriend came around, I stayed out of the way even if it meant sequestering myself in my room. You stayed up later than me, seemed not to notice how you stomped around on the hardwood floors, and worked from home more often than I expected.
I suppressed my complaints or grievances, which made it all the more surprising when you came to me with a complaint. You were standing in the doorway to my room, grey fleece lounge pants and a navy shirt you'd designed with the solar system and dotted lines representing the paths of satellites since the 1950s. A roll of toilet paper bounced from one hand to the other and back.
"Hey, I didn't want to say anything, but..."
You said it anyway. I hadn't replaced the toilet paper, and I'd left the toilet seat up. I must have had a look on my face like I couldn't understand why you were making a big deal out of it, so you revealed to me what I hadn't known before I allowed you to move in—that you didn't have a cock.
"You..." I began, swallowing the rest of the sentence before getting it back out of the depths of my stomach. "You don't have a cock? Are you kidding?"
The answer there, of course, was no. You explained that you were born with a condition—that you'd never had a penis, that you'd always had a vagina. You'd always felt like a guy, and your body had even developed masculinely. You just happened to be a guy who had a pussy.
That night, sensing my mind was still struggling to wrap itself around your secret, you picked up beer and ordered pizza and told me I could ask whatever I wanted. The truth was my mind had been racing all day with questions, but I didn't want to come off as a pervert.
Under your careful and skeptical gaze, I played dumb and barely asked anything. A question about the degree of struggle you felt in your everyday life and a question about whether you were completely functional or not. Then I asked about your girlfriend and how that worked.
You grinned widely, shaking your head a little at what I'd just walked into. "Let's just say," you started before taking a large swig of your beer, "that what I lack in the dick department, she more than makes up for, y'know?"
I froze, dumbfounded. My thoughts really began to race as you helped yourself to another slice of pizza and flipped the channel from a muted public broadcasting news program to a baseball game.
This story is, at its core, three characters: you, the bro-ish graphic designer who was born with a pussy instead of a cock; me, the straitlaced architect who's going to be tortured by thoughts and curiosities and eagerness to know more about you but doesn't want to seem perverted; and your girlfriend, whose character we can flesh out together but is a girl who was born with a cock instead of a pussy. I'm interesting in playing a GM though (hope I'm using that term correctly), and would love to bring lots of characters into this slice-of-life setting.
What might complicate this—and perhaps turn away a few people—is that I don't want your character and my character to end up together at any point. What really intrigues me about this dynamic is an otherwise straight guy becoming more and more curious, but never able to act because your character identifies as straight and has a girlfriend. He'll have lots of questions though, and detailed conversation and furtive glances can be at the heart of their interactions.
You and your girlfriend might relish the chance to let your guards down around me since you likely hide your truths from the rest of the world, either oblivious or completely aware how the two of you are wondrously exotic and fill me with questions and urges and fantasies. Maybe my character eventually gets a girlfriend who adds some interesting contributions to double-dating. There's a lot of room to explore and grow this story for the right partner.
Obviously I'm willing to talk out the dimensions of this. Drop me a line if you're even marginally interested, 18+, and into exploration gender in literate ways.
Submitted October 17, 2017 at 05:44AM by vdude2 http://ift.tt/2xKq9N7 dirtypenpals
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