Alexandra and Tran discover a kindred spirit and friend, real world pornstar Allenina, and the answer to the question, can porn be art?
Chapter 13
Does Life Imitate Art?
The Greatest Lie
Chapter13
by Alexandra Rivers © [email protected]
Does Life Imitate Art?
I love technology, in spite of the stereotype about girls. Although I was a guy, at least outwardly, until a year ago, I think I was always inwardly a girl. According to the stereotype, we girls are supposed to be indifferent to anything more technical than the designer covers of our cell phones. Still, I just can't help myself: I enjoy mastering new technology.
Even though I look like a girl now, there are still bits of that geeky little boy I once was in my personality, bits that will never go away, like my love for gadgets.
This doesn't really bother me. I think many people, maybe most people, transgendered or not, have splashes of the other gender dribbled onto the canvas of the gender they present to the world. And, dear readers, whether trans, CD or not, this generalization includes most of you. Otherwise, why would you be reading my story?
I feel sure that if people could get comfortable with their gender duality, then they wouldn't react so violently when an encounter with a transgender reminds them uncomfortably of their own duality. Perhaps then we would not be mourning the murders of Brandon Teena or Gwen Araujo, and perhaps people like Alec and my father would not have rejected me with such cruelty.
I am so glad that I live in this age of the Internet and high technology, which has made it possible for me to learn about myself, and to realize my dreams for myself. The new communications technology has brought so many of our community out into the open and together.
I was certainly also glad for another bit of high technology when I tried to call my former porno director: Pavel's office phone forwarded my call to his cellular phone. After an annoying delay, he answered in a voice that sounded as distorted as it sounded faraway.
"You're where?" I shouted into the digital cacophony.
"Sao Paulo," came the choppy answer.
"I can guess what you are up to," I replied.
"How are you so knowledgeable? I thought you were a newbie when we made 'Transsexual Hookers.'"
"Don't worry, I was only a tourist. I visited Brazil with my parents. When are you coming back?"
"Dunno, maybe never. This is freaking transgender paradise. The 'travestis' look like angels, and the boy talent is great too. The filmmaking stinks, but it's a lot better now that I'm here."
"So what about Tran's and my sequel? We're ready."
"Christie's is dying to make another. Your video was their biggest hit ever, and I keep getting e-mail about you. Get in touch with my friend Allenina Wong. She's a T, porn actress and director: young, smart, talented and beautiful. I don't have her phone but you can e-mail her through her Website, http://www.allenina.com. I'll send her an e-mail telling her you'll be getting in touch."
"But Tran and I were, you know, comfortable with you and Yuri."
"You'll love Allenina, and her work is terrific. Rent her self-directed starring vehicle, 'The Asian She-Male Gang Bang.' It's an early work, and she looks a lot prettier now, but you'll see what I mean. Allenina's style is hot--it's you."
I never got to see the video, but I found a synopsis on the Internet. Obviously, Allenina was as imaginative as she was endowed with sexual stamina. I felt the stirring of a creative but competitive impulse.
I had e-mailed her some scripts I had written based on some of the kinkier stories I had heard in my transsexual sex worker interviews. I wasn't really excited by any of the stories I had written. They seemed mechanical and depressing. If you start writing from the perspective of social anthropology, even depraved sex gets boring pretty quickly.
Though I was a little bit hurt when Allenina didn't respond to the e-mail from my .edu address, I wasn't really surprised. She probably thought I was just another trannie chaser or wannabee trannie like the ones who populate her Yahoo! Group, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/allenina/. Besides, even I don't answer all my e-mail from unknown sources. I understood that porn stars get stalked by sickos and have to be extra cautious about disclosing personal information to people they only know from the Internet.
On the other hand, I felt pressed for time. Important dates were drawing near: a vital follow-up operation to my sex change, and the start of the summer session at Chiang Mai University, where I would continue my research on the behaviors of transsexual Thai sex workers.
I managed to finally get through to Allenina because my research mentor, Professor Finch, had given me an AOL account to use in Thailand, and Allenina's Website listed an AOL address. While I was getting familiar with my new account, I came across the 'Locate Member Online', button, clicked it, and found her instantly.
Before I had my AOL account, I had not been the type to waste my days on Instant Messaging. In hindsight, it really is an amazing and seductive technology: one can have the equivalent of a whispered conversation with a stranger sitting at a keyboard across the world. Although I didn't have much experience with the medium when I typed my first message to Allenina, I learned the lingo quickly as I went along.
Virtual_xx: you never answered my email
AlleninaW: who the f**k r u?
Virtual_xx: Pavel Rutkov's Tgirl friend.
AlleninaW: Porno Pavel? Does he o u money 2?
Virtual_xx: No. u o me email.
AlleninaW: o yeah, u r the Minnesota Tgirl. Pavel told me to look for u.
Virtual_xx: I want to make another movie. I sent u some ideas.
AlleninaW: Boring! documentary.
Virtual_xx: don't my stories have a verite feel?
AlleninaW: cinema verite, literati verite, blah blah.
Virtual_xx: What's the problem?
AlleninaW: it's got slew amount of dossier. Has to be simple, cheesy, 2 b porno
Virtual_xx: 2 much plot?
AlleninaW: 2 much explanation. u must keep doing what feels instinctive.
Virtual_xx: do I need to make it edgier?
AlleninaW: i love edgy thingy
Virtual_xx: like?
AlleninaW: put in a gang bang. I direct a great gang bang.
Virtual_xx: u 4get, I m the *
AlleninaW: that's the point, more gangbang, more talents, bigger budget, more money
Virtual_xx: o it's not for art?
AlleninaW: ha ha. Fucking for art's sake. But I'm not doing any more porns this year.
Virtual_xx: But I really need u 2.
AlleninaW: Allenina should be a new wave filmmaker, cover both porn and other interest, although she made her name first in porn.
Virtual_xx: please direct me.
AlleninaW: she will take bring porn out and meet the mainstream
Virtual_xx: OK I will make my scripts more mainstream.
AlleninaW: but cheesy 2.
Virtual_xx: OK, I will rewrite my scripts.
AlleninaW: Later.
Allenina had disappeared into the digital forest, leaving me alone and baffled.
Was I to put part of myself and Tran into the scripts that I was writing as vehicles for our sexual exhibition? That had been the model of my script in 'Transsexual Hookers,' where I had leveraged the unwelcome appearance of my high school ravager, Miguel, into the hook for an emotionally compelling story and performance. But writing about my family, my friends, or even my transsexual sex worker subjects would only turn out badly. Either the story could be realistic, but too banal to bear watching, or, if I exaggerated the action to the extremes of violence and cruelty needed to be pornographic, the story would be so inhumane that I could not bring myself to write, or act in it .
I stared into my computer screen, torn between the need to personalize my expression and to distance myself from it. I was almost relieved when the time I had allotted ran out and I returned to my studies: a comparison of Spenser's 'The Faerie Queen' to Chaucer's 'Canterbury Tales'.
I was mulling over the point that one had to be familiar with the concept of the seven deadly sins to really understand both 'The Parson's Tale' and 'The Faerie Queen', when a flash of inspiration hit me. My screenplay would frame a transsexual's achievement of perfect femininity in terms of a series of encounters with personifications of each of the seven deadly sins.
I typed up an outline quickly, inspired equally by Spenser's text and the Dudley Moore/Peter Cook classic, 'Bedazzled'. Then I shot it all over in an e-mail to Allenina.
Feeling flushed with that first success, I knocked out another script, based on a transsexual's fifth anniversary high school reunion, and sent that to Allenina, too. Later that night, I logged on to AOL and IM'ed Allenina
Virtual_xx: Hi.
AlleninaW: Hey.
Virtual_xx: Did u read my story?
AlleninaW: Your story works swimmingly.
Virtual_xx: Thx. u like it?
AlleninaW: It's straightly a fantasy of yours and not mine. However, I see the beauty of your brainiac craft. I like the little toss of dichotomy.
Virtual_xx: I like a little ying in my yang.
AlleninaW: Or a little Yang in your Ying. LOL
Virtual_xx: What do u mean?
AlleninaW: Laugh out loud.
Virtual_xx: I didn't. u hurt my feelings.
AlleninaW: U R 2 sensitive. Not ready 2 b in my pornos.
Virtual_xx: OK, I can take it. Anywhere, anytime. u like the bedazzled thing?
AlleninaW: written like a literary Pygmalion. It's a beautiful story. yes u r a literati Pygmalion
Virtual_xx: how do you like the class reunion porno scenario?
AlleninaW: it's very porn, so it's very cheesy. U have penned it deftly.
Virtual_xx: u mean keyboarded.
AlleninaW: of course. I will put in shots, rent location, hire talents and crew. U write more dialogs. I will email you with dates. About two weeks. I can get you and your friend fee of at least $4,000 4 this script. OK?
Virtual_xx: u had 2 remind me. I'll be my own whore on screen. can porn be art, or is it commerce?
AlleninaW: if done right, it can be anything u want it to be.
Virtual_xx: like Romeo and Juliet, porn in its time, also now kiddie porn.
AlleninaW: we've always lusted after kiddie porn babe, the erotic Eros, scantily clad, baby face and body, god, if it wasn't classical, people will have sued already
Virtual_xx: that's why they call it greek
AlleninaW: yup.
Virtual_xx: so u agree it's a 1st amendment thing, the right to sexual self expression.
AlleninaW: I don't believe in censorship. whatever can be imagined, should be depicted, my artistic opinion
Virtual_xx: if sex for pay is illegal, how can you legally pay people to have sex on camera
AlleninaW: performers get paid for performing not for sex intercourse, for modeling, not for sex intercourse
Virtual_xx: same for escorting?
AlleninaW: it's legal to escort, i get paid for my time not my service.
Virtual_xx: I have a law professor u should meet.
AlleninaW: law is dull Gotta go now. Later.
Of course she was right--Allenina agreed with the great Professor Epstein, my legal mentor, and he had never been wrong. And I accepted their reasoning:, too: I intended to make my body and soul into a work of pornographic performance art. I would sacrifice my body to the world of heartless male domination and emerge triumphant, a perfect woman, idolized by all as an embodiment of sexual perfection. It was my right and my duty to my transsexual sisters who came before me and who would follow in increasing multitudes after me. Tran and I would become role models by using the system to rise above its own oppression, I thought grandiloquently.
Turning my thoughts to earth, I asked my friend and partner in crime, "Tran, does your mom have any videos of you as a little kid?"
"Are you kidding? We were poor when I was little. Any extra we had went into the collection plate at church, and that never amounted to much."
"How about more pictures?"
"You got them all. Why do you want them?"
I flipped through the scanty stack of Sears portraits and school pictures, and the more numerous--and revealing--shots intended for the personal ads Tran had run in the local alternative papers . She had been a slender, beautiful boy who photographed well, but I had more pictures from any one birthday than Tran had for her whole life.
"I want them for our movies, to set the stage for our sex scenes. I want to begin the story with a few snapshots from our childhoods with a little voice-over for autobiography. It would make a quick little mise-en-scene."
"I thought this was porn, not documentary."
"When guys make porn, it's all action. Girl's porn has more emotional content, like the thing I did with Miguel in 'Transsexual Hookers.' I am trying to do something like that, to get viewers emotionally involved with our characters."
Pavel arranged to have the outtakes from 'Transsexual Hookers,' the prints from our solo photo shoots, and Tran's screen test FedEx'ed to me. I spent a long day and night at Finch's iBook scanning photos, editing video clips, and adding voice-over.
Tran complained bitterly as she read the faux biography I had written for her into the computer's microphone. "We're not even paid yet and you are making me lose my beauty sleep!"
"Tran, Van Gogh never sold one of his paintings for more than a hundred bucks, and now they sell for millions. Think of it as an investment in your future."
"If my dad ever sees this he will die of shame."
"Good, he deserves it. He can keep my father company in hell," I replied with acid in my voice.
"What about my mother? She doesn't deserve it!"
"She'll forgive you, and besides, if our moms really wanted to, they could pay for our surgeries so we wouldn't have to do commercial sex. And since we have to do that, I, at least, want the movie to be good!"
"This crazy Chinese T-girl Allenina convince you porn is art?" Tran snorted in ridicule.
"I don't think that's so crazy. I agree with her: porn can be art, and art porn."
"I always knew you were crazy. I am the only one that's not crazy, except when I listen to you!" Tran laughed, and I couldn't help getting caught up by her giggles. Eventually we collapsed into one another's arms onto our bed.
Even though I am a male-to-female transsexual, I have always been drawn to women and to other T's as much as I've been drawn to men. I am hopelessly polymorphous in my sexuality, and I have never been as attracted to anyone as much as I've been attracted to Tran. Her soft, pouting lips are a perfect cushion for mine, and the touch of her firm breasts against my nipples is one of my favorite sensations. As our giggling subsided, my eyes sank into hers, and my lips melted against hers.
Between kisses I said, "I really don't have time," but she quieted me with another delicious, soft kiss, and tugged at my jeans.
"I need some attention," she whispered. "Peter is gone, Randy was just 'Slam bam, thank you, Ma'am,' and now he's gone. I need you."
I nodded enthusiastically. I suckled at her broad, brown nipples and gave her a chain of kisses as I descended towards her clean-shaven pussy. At the same time, I swiveled my own nether regions toward her famished and eager lips. I felt her tongue enter me, just as I pressed aside her unfinished but lovely labia majora; my tongue entered her fragrant and moist vagina. My sinuses were suffused with the lovely perfume of her neo-vagina.
Our vaginas had been beautifully but not yet completely crafted by our Thai surgeon, Dr. Sanguan, from grafts of our undersized penile and scrotal skins. Overuse of hormones bought without medical supervision had left our genitalia too shrunken to allow adequate vaginal depth, so our surgeon extended our neo-vaginas with sections grafted from our colons that would offer us a measure of natural lubrication. He had even succeeded in fashioning us functional and sensitive clitorises from pieces of our penile glans.
The nerves in my vaginal region were gradually developing the ability to register nuances of sensation. Sanguan had painstakingly threaded the labia and neovagina with the leftover glans tissue, leaving us incredibly sensate and potentially highly orgasmic: an example of art improving on nature. I felt confident that with time, and the attentions of a sensitive and caring lover like Tran, my vaginal sensibility would become much more pleasurable. At the moment, though, a gentle touch could send me shivering with ripples of pleasure, but a rough touch could sweep me away in a tsunami of pain.
The sections harvested from our colons in our neo-vaginas still exuded small amounts of a now thin and clear mucous that lubricated our neo- vaginas with a sweet nectar from within.
Unfortunately, the junctions of the two dissimilar grafted tissues between our legs had thickened and contracted into solid rings of scar tissue that made our inner vaginas inaccessible to all but the smallest penises, and even those brought agonizing pains as they passed through. The sensation was so excruciating we both feared the moment when a lover's cockhead would pass through the dreaded ring.
Dr. Sanguan understood the structure of the neo-vaginas he had created inside us best, so only he should attempt to break the ring, preferably around the same time he completed our SRS's with the labiaplasties we still needed.
Thus, I had plotted and schemed to finance our return to his clinic in Phuket these past few months. First, I arranged an academic grant and semester abroad to study the 'katoey' sex workers of Thailand, and second, I wrote and agreed to star in a pair of porno blockbusters we about to appear in. I hoped thereby to be able to finance the completion of our SRS's and our transformations into sexually functional women.
From her sighs of pleasure it was evident that Tran enjoyed my attentions and body as much as I did hers. The pressure of her tongue and breath on my inner walls, and especially on my engorging clitoris filled me with a warm buzz of sensual pleasure. We undulated against one another, drinking deeply from one another's chalices.
How different was this girl's gentle and careful love from the mastery of a powerful and willful man, bucking and charging at my soft flesh, overpowering me into the release of my orgasm. Tran teased and coaxed my passion to life. She was trying to free it like a canary from a cage. My senses fluttered like the wings of that caged bird, yearning for flight in a cloudless blue sky. If only the cage could be unlocked: but where was the key?
From the rhythmic undulations of Tran's silken flesh, I could tell she was feeling the same sweet torture. It was I who held the key to her prison, and she the key to mine.
I knew how to open the door: I wetted my French manicured pinkie and gently slid it into her rectum, and carefully probing her knot-tight Asian ass. She quivered as I slid through her sphincter. I pressed on towards her pussy, searching for the shrunken remnant of her prostate, hoping to massage it with my fingertip. At the same time, she pressed her finger into me just as I was pressing into her. Suddenly my blissful sensations amplified themselves enough to overwhelm my senses--she had found and palpated my own tiny prostate. Her fingertip on this half-forgotten remnant of my male past released the dammed-up reservoir of tension within me into a surge of ecstasy. The sensation was so electrifying I had to cry out. As I did, I felt Tran's body go rigid, and then quiver against mine. I heard her cries of orgasmic release just as my overwhelmed senses could take no more and I fell into a swoon.
I awoke to a sensation of movement, I felt a moment of emptiness and sorrow because Tran wasn't there. I heard a flush and a swish of water, and then she was back, gently caressing my breasts as she bent over me to kiss me. The sweet taste of my vaginal juices lingered on her lips, and as we kissed our flavors mingled exquisitely.
"Yum," I said, "Who ever knew that Vietnamese, Chilean and Swedish went so well together."
"Let's tell Martha Stewart," she joked.
"But that would be insider trading," I laughed. "Tran, I think you made me cum," I said.
"I know you made me cum," she replied. "Who needs boys anymore? Too much trouble."
"You know you love that kind of trouble."
"You know me so well."
"And you, me," I said.
"I'm so glad you are my friend."
I kissed her, and said what I knew were both feeling: words I had never willingly spoken to anyone before: "I love you."
She brightened as I had never seen her, and said, "I am so happy, and I love you."
We kissed again and lay in one another's exhausted arms, nesting like spoons. Her breathing evened, and slowed, and she drifted off to sleep. When she was settled, I gently uncoupled from her and flipped open my laptop.
Inspired by our exquisite interlude, I stayed up until I had edited and e-mailed Allenina the final drafts of our screenplays.
When I woke up a few hours later, I had an e-mail from Allenina. She had arranged a location and was lining up the talent and crew for the coming weekend. I went on the Internet, checked the L.A. weather (early morning overcast clearing to hazy sunshine after noon; some fog at the beach). June weather in L.A. sucks, but we were going to be working inside most of the time. I bought a couple of cheap tickets from a website and finished packing. The lease that Finch had arranged was up, and Tran and I were leaving our home on Hennepin forever.
On the flight to L.A., I let Tran play Solitaire on my laptop after the movie ended while I read something Allenina had recommended: 'The Second Sex' by Simone de Beauvoir. I had absorbed Sartre and Camus in high school, but de Beauvoir's conception of women as the 'other', and 'that woman is not born, but made', made a startling counterpoint to the male perspective on life's meaning and purpose; especially for me, now. I was even more astonished that my prospective porn director had absorbed the seminal text of feminism and had encouraged me to read it.
I thought de Beauvoir's work offered a delightfully revealing window into her prodigious intellect. Her application of the concept of alienation to feminism was all the more impressive for having been written in 1949.
Allenina met us at the baggage claim elegantly dressed in white silk capris, Dolce and Gabbana top, and Prada shoes. Her hair was perfect, she glowed with a year round SoCal tan, and she greeted us with a friendly, conspiratorial smile. She gave Tran and me film industry hugs-and-double-kisses, and then called for a porter to help us with our bags.
Our Minnesota pallor made us look like immigrants. "Don't they know about tanning parlors in the boondocks?" she asked.
"That's just the start of what they don't have. You can't get a decent haircut or facial either," I replied.
"Welcome to our beauty paradise. Let's go straight to a salon. It's in the budget."
It feels really strange the first time you meet and speak with someone you already know, but only from e-mail. I mean, I had never seen or spoken a word to Allenina, but through our IM exchanges, I felt I knew her better than almost anyone else I knew.
Allenina was not your typical porn star. She was tall, thin, and elegant, but visibly buzzing with energy. If the world were filled with Alleninas, everything would be done correctly and be finished early. Her speech was graceful and clear: part Valley Girl, part British Empire. Her manners were graceful and charming, the legacy of a middle-class Hong Kong upbringing, and the polish of USC's art school. When she left Tran and me alone at last, in a dressing room of Trashy Lingerie on La Cienega, I asked Tran, "Can you believe she is real and not some character?"
"No. I think she is a character."
"I guess we're all in the same movie now."
"I hope it's a romantic comedy."
"And not action adventure."
"And definitely not family."
Allenina barged in, trailing a panting sales associate carrying an armload of sequined bustiers from Madonna's halcyon days; white cotton, eyelet bedclothes fit for Victorian maidens or turn-of-the-century New Orleans prostitutes; and silk and satin bra and panty sets ranging from supremely luxurious to lasciviously naughty. "We have $500 for wardrobe in each budget, so have fun. We'll split the goodies up after the shoot, so choose what you love."
"Wow, Pavel didn't do anything like this," I gushed.
"Pavel is a cheap bastard who grinds out volume crap for the masses. We are going to make a cult classic of porn."
Tran grinned enthusiastically. "I don't like the movies or the on-screen sex that much, but I love the money and the clothes."
Allenina replied, "I don't want to ruin your day, but there's one more wardrobe element that we need: remember, you start these stories as boys."
"I thought that's why Alexandra got the old pictures."
"It's a movie, Tran, my movie, and I need you to be boys. So you are getting some uniforms," Allenina commanded sharply. "I'm not going to rely on home movies to set the stage. And some strap-on cocks. I am going to have fun reversing your sex changes for a few hours."
We spent a miserable hour at Old Navy and then a sex toy shop, buying realistic-looking strap-on dildos. The colors of their silicone cocks and faux pubic hair were hideously wrong, and Tran and I were both miserable at the prospect of being filmed as regressed to before we were even pre-ops.
"I didn't sign up for this, much less write it into the script," I said.
"Alexandra, you are a great writer, but you are not a filmmaker. Trust me, I can't tell your story on screen without this. So get used to it: you're going to get to know my make-up guy really well, as boys and as girls. Ha, ha."
At the end of a hectic day of shopping, coifing, tanning and beautifying, Allenina announced "I need to get ready to strip at Peanuts tonight. I'd love for you to come see me, but you really need your sleep." I nodded in mute agreement.
Allenina's frenetic pace, combined with our jet lag, had left Tran and me at the point of collapse. We ordered from the room service menu, ate and set an early wake up call. Allenina had ordered a car to fetch us to a mansion on Mulholland at 6:00 a.m., and we wanted to look our very best for our return to the screen.
We had long days ahead of us. After all, there are seven deadly sins, and I would suffer all of them tomorrow: lust, pride, greed, envy, anger, sloth, and gluttony.
Film making, like writing, is a bore--the stories may be great, but the process is mundane. In porno, the ordinariness of the process, the waiting, the setting up, the tearing down, and the casual conversations between principals who will, in minutes, be locked together in feigned fierce passion can only distract from the story.
My director Allenina would not be pleased if I wrote this tale as a documentary about her filmmaking tradecraft, like the backstory on a DVD of her maitre d'oeuvre, 'Seven Deadly Sins of a She-Male', so I won't.
Everyone was nice, professional, and efficient. Plentiful Viagra for the talents kept anxiety at a minimum, and the fluff girl, a buxom, earthy Latino T-girl, had little to do but buff her nails and check her make-up. But I was a busy girl. Oh, yeah! So rather than bore you with the details, I'll just tell the story, as I experienced it, skipping all of the boring set-ups and concentrating on the sexual interludes. If you like transsexual porno flicks, rent it, and see how my perspective compares with what Allenina put on the screen.
I read a voice-over monologue as a montage of childhood pictures unfolded: "When I was a little boy, I always went through the motions of being one of the gang, but I was always apart, the other. On my soccer team, I spent more time on the bench than anyone else until my dad berated the coach for not letting me play, and then chewed me out even more when I screwed up and let the other team score. I was always more interested in art and dance and music than in sports, and in school I was always too advanced.
"My envious classmates kept a guarded distance from me, isolating me amongst a small circle of intellectual misfits. I was one of the last of my peers to hit puberty, and when I did, my interest in girls was more to see what was going on with their bodies, than anything sexual. I was a pretty boy, and the girls liked my attentions, and always seemed to expect more from me than I was ready to give. I just wanted to see their breasts and pussies, so that when I dreamed of being a girl, I would have better material to fuel my fantasies of femininity.
"Naturally, rumors circulated that I was gay, but nobody understood that I really wanted to be a girl. I was a girl with a boy's body. Being the smart boy that I was, I figured out how to change things, and began taking female hormones."
"We shifted to live action. I was costumed as I would have dressed in the last months before my transition. I went on-camera wearing a boy's tee shirt and jeans, my hair pulled back and hidden beneath a watch cap, my face half-hidden by a mustache and dark glasses. My boobs were squished uncomfortably flat beneath one of Allenina's Jogbras. I looked remarkably like a picture from my own high school yearbook. I said to myself dreamily, "I'd sell my soul to the Devil if he would make me into a girl."
Allenina had cast herself as the Devil. She appeared from behind a violet lit cloud of dry ice smoke, and said, "Hi Babe, can I help you? I am Satan's special envoy to the she-males."
"I hate that term. I'm transsexual."
"Whatever. I'll help you, but only if you give me your body and soul."
"Deal," I replied. "I despise my body, and my soul is trapped inside it. So what difference does it make if I sell them."
"Just make sure that you ask me for exactly what you want, as I will give you just that."
"Make me a beautiful woman."
"Are you sure that's exactly what you want?"
"Yes, my whole life."
"Then you're the perfect girl for me."
The picture faded to me as a pre-op, as Pavel had photographed me six months ago, and then to a sequence that Allenina had artfully edited from outtakes and footage from my scene in 'Transsexual Hookers'.
"We invented recycling in the porn industry," Allenina quipped as she cut and spliced. "I've seen movies with dead porn stars in the cast."
Miguel had been a jerk and a lousy fuck, but he was perfectly cast as a sin. And, for me, it was easy, since he (and I) had signed a contract authorizing Christie's to use the footage in any way, and at any time, it chose. So he got to be the sin of Anger, and the old me got raped and violated without my having to be touched again by the jerk.
There was plenty of footage in which Miguel's head didn't appear, so a new male voice could voice over the sound track a soliloquy of rage at having been fooled by a transsexual and spew forth a new angry justification for the cruel assault that Miguel had visited upon me for his own twisted reasons.
When the scene ended, I returned to my bedroom and summoned the Devil. Allenina responded, "Did you enjoy being a woman? Although you surprised him, my friend Anger seemed to be enjoying himself with you. Let's face it, it's trendy to be transsexual. Every guy will want to have fucked one or two, eventually."
"I didn't trick Anger. You tricked me. I thought you wanted to help me."
"Hello, girl, I'm the freaking Devil, Satan, get it? You must be more careful. Now you have six more wishes to get this right, as long as I'm in the mood to help you. Besides, I wasn't really sure if you were sure what you wanted."
"I feel like a freak: like anyone who wants me is perverse. I hate myself and despise anyone who is attracted to me as I am. I deserve to be perfect."
"Like me?" Allenina asked.
"I want a perfect, female, me."
"That sounds like you have an excess of Pride. Well, that's my own personal favorite sin, so I am just the demon for you."
Allenina fell to her knees in front of me and began sucking my strap-on . She fellated the limp, plastic penis with gusto and appreciation--a tour de force of porno acting. Finally, she bared her own beautiful derriere and pretty, uncut, cock, and we oralled one another in the 69 position as the cameras explored our passionately entwined bodies.
Of course, nothing was going to happen on my end, but I was pleased that Allenina began to develop the involuntary movements of a T-girl on the verge. Cameras focused on our faces--my curled lips and sucked-in cheeks bending over her thrusting thighs, her face going from beautiful to sublime as she approached orgasm. I felt a stirring of sexual pleasure within me as I sensed her drawing closer to her climax.
Good oral sex gives the giver a feeling of pleasurable control and power over the recipient, and this was heightened when the recipient was someone as lovely and in control of herself as Allenina. My own body quivered with pleasure when her body spasmed. Her beautiful bottom thrust upward and her penis fired a small but forceful load of cum into my mouth. I made sure that the camera caught it rolling off my tongue and smearing my lips and chin.
"Mmm, that was great," Allenina murmured to the camera. "I think you have met and overcome the sin of Pride." The fake fellatio she had performed on me had loosened my strap-on. Hiding my midsection behind a disheveled sheet, Allenina now slipped the hated prosthesis off me and dropped it behind the bed. It felt great to be without the stiff, hairy appendage. My groin felt clean and cool--it was ready for its screen debut. "I think you are ready to become a woman," the Devil purred.
"Oh, it's perfect. I can't wait to try it. I'm horny for the first time in my life."
"In that case, let me introduce you to Lust."
Lust was a handsome, tattooed regular from the T-girl porno scene, who has a prodigious cock and a legendary appetite for transsexual ass. He looked at me and said, "Do I get to break in this tasty pastry?"
"It was her idea," the Devil replied.
"I didn't mean right this minute," I said in fright.
"Like I told you, you have to be careful what you ask for around me. You ask, I give. I need to freshen myself up. I leave you two lovebirds to your own devices."
I covered myself modestly, and said, "I don't even know if I'm ready."
"That's OK, I am," Lust said, in a Viagra trance. He slid his tattooed arms under my thighs, grabbed my breasts, and swiveled my pussy to his face and began kissing, licking and blowing into it insatiably. It was an impetuous and overwhelming embrace, and it was a turn-on to have a handsome guy like Lust reveling in me like a cat on catnip. But I knew he had nowhere to go inside me.
At last he pulled himself up and mounted me, missionary style, his hands cupping my breasts. I averted my face from him and looked pleadingly into the camera, as he slid inside me. His cockhead was so thick that even the wider, outer portion of my vagina was stretched to the limit, and I writhed with pain. When he hit the ring of scar tissue inside me, he came to a dead stop as a nuclear blast of pain mushroomed through me.
"You're too big for me!" I protested.
"That's what they all say," Lust laughed, painfully thrusting into me again, again in vain.
"You'll rip me apart."
"That's your problem," Lust snorted, "I gotta fuck you."
"OK, then fuck me from behind."
He grinned happily, pulled my legs over his head and banged me again, trapeze style, and still got nowhere.
"I've seen tight pussy in my day, but this is ridiculous."
"Let me suck you."
"No, I want to fuck you. Lemmee fuck you in the ass, then."
"You're too big for that."
"We'll see about that," and he pinned me down and lubed me as I squirmed beneath him.
Of course, we were only acting, and I knew exactly what was coming. Lust had performed anal sex on a hundred T-girls in photo shoots and movies going back a decade, so he knew what was expected of him. He penetrated me with the care and deliberate pace of an experienced and considerate T-girl lover. Still, he had a porno-size cock, and it opened a big hole in me. I whimpered protests of pain and humiliation as my rectum felt filled to bursting with his hard flesh and my sphincter felt as if it had been ripped open. He was as long as he was thick, and my colon was stretched and uncoiled by his penetration.
As his cock explored the depths of my belly, it found the corner of colon from which Sanguan had taken the section. There, to my surprise, lurked another ring of scar tissue, and when Lust reached he unsheathed new daggers of pain from deep inside me. But Lust had only been exploring my depths. He found and got into a rhythm of fucking that stopped short of that threshold, and soon the pain of early penetration was supplanted with the pleasure of internal friction and warmth, the now familiar sensation to which I had become hopelessly addicted.
Now, I moaned and cooed with pleasure at Lust's ministrations, and thrust my ass willingly against his plunging sword. Occasionally, my reverie would lift, and I would remember the whirring cameras long enough to shoot a meaningful look, and even a triumphant smile at Allenina, who smiled at me from over the cameraman's shoulder.
Lust kept up a practiced sexual patter of, "Ooh, baby, that feels great, you're as tight as a glove, like a warm velvet tunnel of love, oh baby," as he humped away. It actually felt nice to have my performance praised so effusively on-camera.
I looked back and smiled at him once, and then smiled triumphantly into the camera. Allenina flashed a thumbs up, and I repeated the performance with a look of pained concern on my face, and then again with a look of happy relief.
By the time I had run the gamut of emotional expression, I could feel that Lust's train was about to leave the station, so as planned in the script, I pleaded with Lust, "Please cum on my pussy."
He pulled out obediently but not too quickly; I felt a pleasant emptying sensation as his cock emerged from my depths. He pulled off his condom and played with himself as he kneeled between my spread legs. He came with deafening series of grunts, and sprayed hot white semen all over my still virginal vagina.
"Hey, that was great, baby," Lust said as he swaggered off jauntily. "Call me again when that pussy of yours is fully grown. Or when that ass of yours has recovered."
I smiled wanly and said, "Leave me your number."
Lust replied breezily, "That's OK, I'll call you."
"What a jerk," Allenina said as she came back on-camera.
"You are so mean. You made me too small for anything but the tiniest cocks," I protested.
"You have to ask for exactly what you want. I just can't help myself. I'm the Devil. Remember what I did to poor Eve. They're still punishing her descendants. Ha, ha."
"I just wanted a vagina that would work. You know, that would accommodate a cock. Like other, regular girls, I want to be able to be fucked in my pussy, and my ass."
"No problem. Let me introduce you to my friend Envy."
Envy was a handsome but self-conscious young Asian guy. As soon as he came on-screen, he glared at the camera and barked, "What are you looking at. Just because my dick's not as big as some of the other louts here, doesn't mean anything. I mean, it's the motion, not the meat that matters. I mean, I wish I had a Lust's cock, he doesn't deserve to have all the chicks he gets."
Allenina commented acidly, "Envy, you can't fuck everyone. Look what a tasty dish I have here for you."
"Lust has already done her, hasn't he. You know, I can't stand Lust's sloppy seconds. Why does he always get to go first?"
"He didn't," Allenina replied sarcastically, as Envy made a face of puerile disgust. "If you didn't spend half the day studying yourself in the mirror, you wouldn't be late to every party. Now look at this lovely treat and be thankful to your Devil."
Envy sat on the bed next to me and began fondling me. "She really looks perfect. I guess she'll do." He turned to me and demanded, "Show me what a good little cocksucker you are. You look like you've had some practice." He gripped the back of my hair and forced my lips over his cock.
Though I love to suck cock, and I love the gentle pressure of a hand guiding my head over a hard cock, I really hate it when guys twist my head and shove it onto their dicks. It's about as sexy as whiplash. But I really couldn't complain about Envy's rough treatment or high-handed manner. He was acting out my script, and he seemed perfectly in character. Nor could I sincerely protest, though I acted one out, when he rolled me onto my back and mounted me.
Unlike my ex-boyfriend Alec, Envy had been well versed in the anal arts. He entered my vagina with the greatest of care. For the first two inches the progress of his slender, tapered cock was quite pleasant. But when Envy tried to insinuate his cock through my ring of scar tissue, a familiar hideous ripping pain saturated my senses . It was not the familiar initial discomfort of a suddenly stretched sphincter which one knows will melt away into warm, pleasant internal pressure. My vaginal pain signaled potential injury to my unfinished genital organs.
I cried out, "Stop, stop, you're too big!"
Envy snarled back, "Thanks, that's the first time I've ever heard a whore tell me that," and plunged onwards.
I grimaced and real tears filled my eyes as Envy plunged his slender prick into an even narrower region of my vagina. He exclaimed, "God, it's so tight, tighter than an ass, it feels so good, I'm gonna cum, I have to cum!" Then he pulled himself out with a fierce ripping motion, pulled off his condom and orgasmed over my heaving tummy and breasts.
"Thanks, I gotta go," Envy said, leaving my belly sperm-coated and me shivering all over.
The Devil returned with a towel and a glass of water and said, "Talk about 'Wham bam, thank you Ma'am. That was really pathetic. That's why Envy is my least favorite sin. Of course, that's easy for me to say, because I have everything I want. Did he give you what you wanted?"
"It was awful, I just give up. I'll never be a complete woman!"
"Never give up. You always have to keep trying. Though you may never reach your goal, it's the way that we try that defines us."
"I don't want to keep trying. Let me give up. I'm through with wishes, and I don't want to meet any more of your friends."
"That sounds like an invitation to Sloth." She picked up a bright red cell phone and punched in a number. "I love these things. But I get such a terrible connection in Hell. I just love it up here. Oh, hi love, yes, she's ready for you now." Turning to me, she said, "He'll be right in."
Sloth entered, a slightly overweight but well-hung African-American. He lay down on the bed beside me and we lay silently together. After an uncomfortably long pause, he asked, "Well aren't you going to do anything?"
"Aren't you? All of the other sins couldn't wait to invade me."
"I don't want to do anything. So you just do what you do to get me off, and I'll be on my way."
"I'm really not used to being the sexual aggressor."
"Get used to it, ho, and do your job on me."
I started to rise, saying, "Let me clean up the mess that Envy made of me, and I'll . . ." but Sloth interrupted me and said, "Don't bother, bitch, just get started on me."
I shrugged my shoulders for the camera, and wrapped my lips around his gigantic, but flaccid cock. I worked at him energetically, gradually bringing his cock to a half erect posture, but he wasn't cooperating. He lay limp and languid, and said, "You got to try harder than that, baby. Try getting on top and sitting on it."
I lubed my now puckered ass and stuffed his floppy member inside of me. Even soft, it was a large cock, and lacking firmness or purpose, and it kept popping out. "C'mon, ho, get me inna you," Sloth grumbled lazily. I stuffed his flesh inside my still lubricated ass, whose smooth, firm textures stirred his cock to life.
"Oh, yeah, that's it, that's the way I like it. Now, ride me, bitch! Ride me." My hair flew, my breasts bobbed, my temples pounded, and my thighs ached with the exertion of fucking this massive, inert man. His cock failed to completely harden, so each time I threw myself down on him, his cock folded inside me, and each time I rose, it flopped precariously, repeatedly slipping out, and requiring re-insertion. I expressed aggravation with mocking smiles to the camera, as I facetiously said, "Oh, yeah, fuck me baby, you feel so big inside me."
Sloth played along gamely, as he was a seasoned pro and this episode, like all the others, had been carefully staged. Sloth had foregone the Viagra that the other talents had taken to ensure their studly performance, and, to make the matter in hand even softer, he had come to the set straight from another porno shoot.
Allenina had cast him against type in the unenviable role of Sloth to counter the stereotype of the African-American as a sexual superman. So Sloth, the famed stud of dozens of XXX productions, struggled to maintain tumescence in the cause of plot advancement.
After he had slipped out of me for the last time, he said, "You gotta help me, baby, play with me."
I finished him with a hand job that ended in a tiny blob of cum that puddled on the end of his large but still flaccid penis. I stretched a strand of the clear, thin liquid from the tip of his cock to the tip of my tongue, and, "Mmm'ed," appreciatively as I winked at the camera.
Sloth ambled off-camera, mumbling, "Thank you, baby, for heppin' me. You da baddest ho of all."
When Allenina returned on-camera, I complained, "Thanks a lot for foisting those last two losers on me. I can't decide which of them was more pathetic. I thought you were going to help me."
"I did, your wishes have been my commands. I made you feminine, a woman-- what do you want? Will nothing please you?"
"I certainly want something more than losers like Envy and Sloth. They are like, both really high-maintenance for guys. I thought girls got all the maintenance. I want to be taken care of."
"I know what you mean. I think you'll like Greed and Gluttony much better, and you'll be surprised how well they go together."
Allenina had been one of the first porn stars ever to perform a DAP, or double anal penetration, in her legendary porno classic 'The Asian She-Male Gangbang'. I've heard the Brazilian 'travesti' Patricia Araujo filmed one too, and I had done it on my own with Rick and Randy before I'd ever heard of either of them, but still, it's an exotic feat.
When I confided my own double anal experience to Allenina, she wrote it into my script, arguing that she was the perfect director for the scene: after all, she had directed herself in a DAP scene. "Besides, you know you can do it, darling, because you've done it! Think of it, the first post-op ever to do it on film!"
I agreed it would be a spectacular ending for the "Seven Deadly Sins": one that would put me in the porn pantheon with Allenina and Araujo. Plus, we would get the shoot over with faster.
Gluttony and Greed arrived arm in arm, arguing convivially. "But what's the good of having something, if you can't enjoy it right then?"
"Just having it is the enjoyment, isn't it?"
"Having it, but not having it, is the worst part, I'd say."
"But at least we can agree that you have to have it."
"Oh, definitely. Speaking of which, what have we here?" Gluttony asked, noticing me.
"Something we both ought to have, I dare say," said Greed. They sat beside me and began fondling me and sucking my breasts.
"I don't suppose it matters what I want," I said.
"Not really, but it won't matter as long is it's the same as what I want," said Greed.
"What about what he wants," I asked, referring to Gluttony.
"Actually, I think we both want the same thing," said Gluttony amiably, and they both thrust their cocks toward my lips.
I took them between my lips, alternating Gluttony's fatter, shorter piece with Greed's longer, thinner model. Each cock has its own flavor, and soon I had two different vintages of precum on my tongue, one reminiscent of seafood and brine, the other of wild game and mountain heather. Both had rock-hard Viagra hard-ons, and their rough and enthusiastic use of my lips made clear that soon they would demand more of my tired body.
Gluttony demanded, "I want to fuck your hot little pussy."
"I can't, you won't fit."
"Oh, yeah, the Devil told us about that little issue. Well, that's your problem, I'll take your ass instead."
"What about me? What do I get to fuck?" Greed complained.
"Fuck her mouth, and then have some of my leftovers, if there are any," Gluttony laughed cruelly.
"Please go slowly," I implored.
"I'll do as I like," said Gluttony piggishly, and pushed his cock in as far as he could with one lunge. I gasped and cried out, causing Greed's cock to slip from my lips.
"Shut up and keeping sucking me," Greed grumbled, replacing his cock in my grimacing lips.
I was still well lubed from Envy and Sloth, but Gluttony's sudden entry, the fatigue of my internal muscles, and the knowledge of what was to come overwhelmed me with emotion and pain. My body was rebelling against the imperatives of my own scriptwriting, and besides, I wanted a little coercion and brutality to emerge in this scene.
Gluttony was bucking against my buttocks, as Greed continued to ram his cock into my face. I endured this two front invasion for as long as I could, and then pushed Greed from my lips.
I cried out, "No more, please, leave me alone!"
"Well, if you're going to be such a prissy little bitch, we'll leave you alone sooner, by fucking you both at once," Greed said nastily.
"What do you mean, I'm not done," Gluttony griped.
"We'll be done all the sooner, now sit her down atop you, and I'll come in from behind."
Gluttony spun me into position, and bent me forward, so his cock strained against me, pulling my rectum downward. He silenced my protests with a rough kiss, as Greed slipped his finger between my stretching anus and Gluttony's cock, and pulled at my taut flesh. He opened a slight gap into which he forced his own penis.
I felt a blunt force of his cock force its way into my battered flesh, and surrendered to a wave of anguish. My body was now rent asunder by two irresistible forces: Greed, and Gluttony, as they knifed through me like two Titanics on a collision course on the waves of my inner sea.
They seemed to have been transported to a new plane of selfish ecstasy by the pressure of their cocks against one another, enclosed in the tight confines of my belly. I felt exiled to the last circle of hell as they plowed twin furrows through me.
I looked back pleadingly to their empty, selfish eyes, and into the indifferent lenses of Alleninia's cameras, and wondered if, perhaps, I had gone too far in scripting my own degradation. Had I really consigned myself to the lower depths, to be forever the plaything of the bodies and imaginations of these cruel, childish men? Or was this merely an illusion of my own creation, that served only to titillate my audience? And what was the difference?
Then all thought vanished as the reality of heaving and suffering flesh crushed my consciousness. Now, all I could do was endure, as my twin tormentors tried to tear me in two. I became lost in the moment; my universe contracted to my sensations of Greed and Gluttony.
The two brought me back to earth abruptly--first Greed, then Gluttony, pulled out from inside me. I remembered where I was again: on the set, getting ready for the double money shot. I steadied myself, smiled, first at Greed, then at Gluttony, then into the light above the lens, and licked my lips in anticipation of the imminent treat.
Greed and Gluttony were pros who had, as they say, worked together before, so Allenina had high expectations. They met them well and fully as they both geysered cum into my face in a chorus of grunts and moans. I licked and cooed appreciatively as I shot an ecstatic look towards the camera.
When they finished, they gave one another high fives, and Gluttony said to Greed, "You see, when there's enough for both, it's not so terrible to share."
"Yeah, but how often does that happen?" Greed replied.
"True enough, but I rest my case," Gluttony concluded.
"Point taken. Well then, my little whore, you've satisfied Greed and Gluttony at once. I should say that makes you a very special little whore." As he pulled on his jeans, he pulled out a roll of bills and tossed them to me, saying, "Never let it be said that Greed is cheap."
"Or Gluttony," Gluttony added, as he tossed me a roll of bills.
Allenina's Devil character said, "Well, you've done well from your encounter with Greed and Gluttony. Gordon Gekko was right, 'Greed is good!' Ha, ha. Well then, now that you've met all of the Seven Deadly Sins, have you gotten what you wanted?
"No! You tricked and abused me just like they did. I should have known not to trust you."
"I do wish I could help you, but when nature errs, and puts a male body around a woman's soul, there is no solution from my realm. I can only help you learn to know yourself, not to change yourself. Life is made of your choices, not on anything we decide. At most, I shape the environment, not the woman. And a sinful, cruel environment it is," Allenina mused.
"So you really couldn't do anything to help me." She nodded. "Why didn't you say so at the beginning."
"You wouldn't have believed me. Humans think that God and the Devil rule over them. In fact, you created us, and now, you must re-create yourself."
"And these sins, to what purpose did I endure their humiliation?"
"They provided the laboratory where you discovered who you are, and what you will be. You overcame them well, experiencing them, but without letting any of them change you. Take your money to a surgeon. You will become a wonderful, strong woman."
"And what will become of you?"
"I will be here, waiting to educate the next human gullible enough to believe that help is available from heaven or hell." The scene fades out as we embrace, and I walk off to my destiny.
I took a long, hot shower, douched the lubricant from my tired interior, and spent a long time by myself doing my hair and make-up. I had expected to be exhausted from the ordeal of the long shoot, but I was almost magically energized, thoughts raced through my head. I realized I was raring to go onto the second shoot as I stepped out the dressing room door.
I helped with the lights and set-ups for the script I had written for Tran, 'She-Male High School Reunion'. Allenina even drafted me in for a couple of scenes as a jealous G-Girl ex-cheerleader.
We completely finished both shoots by evening. Allenina passed out the money that we had saved by finishing ahead of schedule as a bonus to the crew and cast. After the equipment had been loaded and the crew had gone away, Allenina asked us over to her place. As Tran took a nap in her spare bedroom, I joined Allenina at the computer, editing the digital footage that she had shot only hours before.
"I'm tired and wired," Allenina muttered as she squinted into the computer.
"I should be tired. Tran is completely crashed, but I'm just buzzing with energy. Can I watch what you're doing?"
"Sure. It's not brain surgery, though. You know, until a few years ago we would have been waiting for months to get this from the lab, and then we would have been manually splicing the film for months and months more. It was a real nightmare. Now, it's just point, select, and click. I love technology."
"Me too, though I must confess I have some reservations about the use we are putting it to," I replied ruefully.
"So do I. I really want to do mainstream work, and this is good, but let's face it: they won't be screening this next year at Sundance. But it's telling a story--our story. Look, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that even though there may be some laws technically protecting us from discrimination, most people don't really accept transsexuals. Is it any different for post-ops?"
"Not unless you go total stealth, and that's almost impossible. There are too many ways things from your past can emerge and out you. Then, it's almost worse, because people feel they have been misled."
"So I can justify my porno career. The first way men will come to accept us is as sex objects. If you become sexually desirable, eventually you become acceptable."
"But we need more than just being accepted sexually. People have to learn that we are not crazy, self-indulgent, or really homosexuals, and I can't seem to get that across to many people. They are so ignorant." Tears filled my eyes as I thought of the times Tran and I had been outed and then rejected.
"That's why you have to wrap your porn in a real story, like you did. The story of self-discovery is as old as Hamlet, or Oedipus, or even the cave paintings of Chauvet-Pont d'Arc or Lascaux. 'The Seven Deadly Sins of a She-Male' is just another chapter, and I think we told it well."
"I hope you are right, but I don't think we'll ever change this world."
"But we have to try," Allenina said, embracing me in a chaste, sisterly way.
"Yes we do," I agreed, "We have to change the world, one cock at a time."
Allenina shot me a look of feigned disbelief and deadpanned, "Or two."
We both burst into laughter. We worked and laughed together all that night.
to be continued
My thanks to my invaluable editor, riottgrrl, for her editorial acumen and creativity, to Allenina, for lending her persona and her ideas to my tale, and to her friend Debra, for insight into matters far beyond my imagination. As always, blame for any errors, omissions, or other faults are all mine.
Excerpted from FictionMania.com and edited lightly by Erin Halfelven for display on BigCloset by permission of the author.
