Marvin's mother worried about him. He seemed to have no friends, no interests, no ambitions.

She-male porn.

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Marvin Hauser---who would rather you call him Ace---took a long pull from his two liter Mountain Dew and set it back on the desk. He unplugged the a.c. cord and carried his gently whirring laptop down the hall to the bathroom, never once taking his eyes off the images on the screen. They were photographs of girls. Beautiful girls, with long tresses and voluptuous figures.

That made it okay that they had dicks, right? It was when you liked guys, that's when you were a damn queer. And these were not guys.

Because some girls (like his cute cousin Marcie) had webbed toes, and this didn't make them ducks. You wouldn't call someone who liked web-toe girls a duck fucker, would you?

'Course not.

He locked the door, then set the computer on the sink counter alongside the toilet and swivelled it to face him. Ace kneeled in front of the bowl. Looking at the magical naked ladies on his computer, and thinking about girls with dicks and webbed toes and with beaks like ducks---NO WAIT, DELETE THAT LAST IMAGE!---he began to stroke his rigid penis.

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The faint drumming of fingernails against the bathroom door made him jump.

"Marvin? You in there?"

"YEAH MOM! I WAS ABOUT TO TAKE A SHOWER," he yelled, as if she was clear off down the block someplace and not less than three feet away. He scooted on his knees over to the shower, reached up and turned the water on.

"Another shower? Well your dinner's ready. Don't let it get cold."

"Okay, Ma."

"Honey?"

"What?" he snapped. Talking to his mother sure was wrecking the erotic mood his pornos had put him in.

"I don't see your computer. You didn't leave it at school again, did you?"

"No, I got it in here. I was ........... ummmn, studying."

"Well good! Okay, I'll leave you alone now..."

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Wendy Hauser smiled. It looked as if her only child was finally starting to apply himself! Those cd-roms she had bought him---a program designed to "make learning fun" for struggling students---seemed to actually be paying off. Which was good, because they hadn't been cheap.

She would be furious if she knew that he had frisbeed all ten discs of LAUGH YOURSELF SMART THE PROFESSOR GIGGLESWORTH WAY down the weedy ravine behind their Valencia, CA home without ever having loaded them into his computer; and that their book-shaped box was now a hiding place for his CDs of digital pornography...

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On the liquid crystal screen the teenager had pasted together a triptych of his current three favorite pictures ....... Bonnie McBoner, Busti Withwoode and Ugimi Sukahachi pouted at him with their puffy cocksucker lips, their breasts outthrust, those penises dangling not from the forbiddingly angular pelvises of men, but from the sweet luscious curves of young ladies.

Of the three of them, Ace liked Miss Sukahachi best. Those oriental ones looked so delicate, so real. And unlike any oriental "gg" he had ever seen---(G-girls, T-girls, gaffs & HRT- Ace was learning all the cool secret lingo of this world)---Ugimi had just the hugest knockers!

He had written her care of WEENIE GIRL magazine, saying that if she just gave him a chance he would treat her like such a lady, but that she could also rest assured he would run things and totally be the boss of her, 'cause those Asian chicks loved that. They lived to take care of their man. He told her it was okay if she was shy, that this was better than all these American girls who thought they knew everything, and if she wanted they could be just friends for a while before they got married. Ace was a bit disappointed that she hadn't contacted him yet, but he wasn't too worried. She must get about a billion fan letters every day, but when she got to his, she would realize the incredible connection they had.

In his mind's eye the lovely t-girl shuffled toward him in her cherry blossom kimono, palms pressed together, eyes downcast. Standing before him she slowly opened her silken robe, revealing the object of his queasy worship.

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Over dinner, his Mom was saying something about how she didn't understand how he could be getting such poor grades when he spent so much time in his room with the door locked doing homework.

He nodded, not really listening as he shovelled Bean-A-Roni ("The Angeleá±o Treat!") into his mouth. All he registered from her lecturing was that she kept calling him Marvin---Marvin, Marvin, Marvin! It was driving him nuts!---when he had repeatedly instructed her to call him Ace.

Wendy, meanwhile, was noticing that her son had not taken a shower after all. He must have taken what she had said about "another shower" as a reprimand. Marvin was so sensitive, so moody sometimes. She wished he could find a girlfriend, or at the very least some friends.

"I noticed that the February Frolic dance is coming up at your school."

"Yeah?" he drawled sullenly.

"Were you thinking of asking anyone?"

"Those dances are all just a big popularity contest," he snorted, "If you're not a jock or a sosh or on the honors roll they treat you like you're dirt. Dances SUCK!!!"

"I had a lot of fun going to dances when I was your age."

"Well things are different now. High School is all cliques and stuff!"

"I think you'd like it if you gave it a chance. You know my friend Sylvia? Well her daughter Heidi- you've met Heidi, right?"

Ace rolled his eyes, "Do you know what kind of loser people would think I am if I went to the dance with her? Heidi Honneger is a dork and a lard ass."

"Well you're getting a bit big in the tush yourself, kiddo," She chided playfully, "Don't think I don't find those Twinkie wrappers you try to hide by stuffing them down into the couch-"

Suddenly Marvin was out of his seat and storming from the room, his plate of Bean-A-Roni left congealing on the table.

"Aw don't be like that," she called after him, "I was just teasing."

Wendy sighed. He used to be such a happy kid, open and innocent. Sure he had a temper, even back then, but it was balanced by great kindness and generosity. Like that period of time when he seemed to be giving his toys away to other kids almost as fast as he got them. Jeffrey had felt that this showed a lack of appreciation for all his Christmas and birthday presents, but she could see the joy the boy took in making other kids happy.

Jeffrey ...... She traced their son's troubles back to when he had died on that business trip three years ago. The State Department and that big column in Washington with all the names on it tried to make out like he was some sort of hero, when it was clear that he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The atomic exchange between India & Pakistan hadn't even been America's war.

Since then Marvin had changed so much. His grades declining, driving away all his friends with his outbursts and accusations, and then shaving off the lovely curly blonde hair that had been his best feature. Considering the shape of his head, the stubbly buzz cut that he had taken as his trademark was not the least bit flattering. And that bony neanderthal ridge across his brow. Had that always been there? The thing really popped out when he scowled, and it seemed like he was always scowling these days.

"You always seem so serious," she had commented once, trying to broach the subject.

"So I'm supposed to go around laughing like an idiot? Ha ha look at me, I'm a happy stupid robot!"

At least he was happy when he was on his computer, Wendi reflected, doing whatever it is kids do on those things. She was glad for the government monitoring and this new internet rating system. Unlike parents of a decade ago she didn't have to worry about some deviant getting hold of Marvin.

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Back in his room he logged back onto his computer, and using the end-runner chip that Geeky Darren had sold him found his way to the adults-only part of the worldwide web. Soon the screen was full of jumping day-glo lettering and wonderful dirty pictures.

He uncapped his big plastic bottle of soda pop and guzzled from it, washing down the awful Beanaroni aftertaste. His mom didn't see how he could drink it right out of the bottle like that, and especially with how it got warm so quick, and did he want ice? Was he sure he didn't want ice? Why didn't he want ice? Always going on about the effing ice; but actually he didn't mind it warm. You had your whole four to six hour supply right here and didn't have to go messing with glasses and shit.

Ace reflected that Heidi Honnegar who his mom seemed to want to hook him up with actually wasn't that fat, that hers was a cute kind of plumpness, she had great tits, and she did act nicer to him than most of the kids at school. And he knew that his mom and hers would pave the way for the hardest part, the asking itself. That if he ever was going to go to a school dance this might be the best opportunity.

But then he flashed on just how uncomfortable he would find such a gathering, a room full of kids his age that wasn't structured the way a classroom was. Where somebody might talk to you, or nobody would. The whole night would be one long opportunity to screw up and look like an idiot.

But a good honest look at his fears wasn't Ace's style, so he decided that they were all a bunch of assholes, and what was the big deal about dancing anyway? It served no purpose. Jerking around like a jerk. Sure there were girls there, but...

He liked girls but they scared him. Not just that they might laugh at him, which they always seemed on the verge of doing, but physically somehow. They had that plumbing. Their pussies smelled like fish (he had heard) and he did know they had periods, which was disgusting, and rather alarming to contemplate, since he really hated seeing blood.

T-girls were cleaner. He liked the ones with dicks but even when they did have THE OPERATION their pussies weren't hooked up to all that weird stuff inside- they were like the fembots from his ROBOT ROBOT 777 manga books. The idea that they were constructed, in sterile rooms and by mostly male doctors was reasurring somehow. Not the crazy wet gooshy randomness of animal nature but something you could control.

He liked the pornos where the shemales wore tight rubber or pvc because then they REALLY looked like robots. All shiny with nice curves and they could sword fight and fly a jet and always had something super clever to say when they were killing a bad guy!

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Besides looking at pornography, there was something else he liked to do. There were chatrooms where all the big dick shemales went to talk about getting their pussy operations and stuff.

The first one he tried, they were weird. He had just said HI to everybody when this woman named LillyMarlene took him aside in like this little cyber alcove and asked him about himself. He sensed like she didn't trust him. She kept talking about predators. Then it dawned on him that she thought HE might be a predator. Couldn't she tell he was okay? He said:

ace911= I am SO not a predator! But i would want

LillyMarlene= Yes?

ace911= it would be nice if maybe findsomeone I can fall in love with like maybe a nice she male girl

LillyMarlene= We all want that ace, but that's not really what we're about here.

ace911= whats it then?

LillyMarlene= This is a room where transgender youth or those who think they might be tg can find themselves. Can talk relax share notes in a place where there is no judgement and find out who they are.

ace911= THATS A GOOD THING

LillyMarlene= Yes it is.

ace911= Do U have a big dick?
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And that had been the end of Ace911's involvement with Aunt Hattie's Haven.

Stupid! Why did he ask that? He knew the uptight ones acted like that. They were like she-male women's libbers or something, they hated men, and weren't fun and sexy and wanting to do it all the time like the ones from his pornos.

It hadn't ended very friendly, all those things she had called him. She was the goddamn tranny, where did she get off acting like HE was a pervert? Probably ugly and looked like a jowly old man, trying to get all the young cute ones to hate men too!

Or maybe he really was just a pervert. Just a stupid, stupid, stupid who never seemed to get the Rules of whatever situation he was in, and even the nerds at school avoided!

Taking a drink from his 2-liter Mountain Dew, he suddenly grabbed the back of his head with his other hand, holding it there while he tilted the bottle way up. It was like it wasn't even him do it, but Aunt Hattie. God she was strong! She was standing there, clutching his head, a stern Victorian headmistress in some kind of riding outfit with leather thigh boots, making him drink all the pee from her monstro dick! All he could do was open up and drink all that nasty liquid! It was horrible and gross and degrading and scary and oh so thrilling!

Finally he had to stop. Why did he do that? It was sick. He was sick. Sometimes he just felt so wrong he felt like the only thing that would fix it is if he was punished somehow. Why did life have to be so darn confusing? Why couldn't the world be more like in his fantasies, where things made sense and he wasn't always saying something wrong?

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He went to his favorite fiction site, HyperGraphia. There were six stories posted today, and DAMN- they were all rated G. He skimmed them just to see if maybe there was something hot in them anyway. Three of them were about boys who wanted to be girls, and their parents were really nice to them when they found out, and everybody cried and hugged a lot, and the lady shrink put them on that spirolackabone stuff so when they got older they could get that operation. These stories TOTALLY SUCKED. These kids were really just like stupid boring girls.

The next two stories were about old people, which was just disgusting. Old men, whose wives caught them transvestating. He kind of liked the ones where this happened and then the wives would turn them into big titted she-male sissy maids and made them eat out all their mah jong partners and stuff, but these weren't anything like that. Instead the wives were really nice to them, and everybody was getting in touch with their true self and there was more damn crying and it was just so STUPID!!

The last story was set in some dusty dirt desert in Australia for some reason, and you thought it was maybe about a transsexual, but even after he read the whole thing he wasn't sure, like it was supposed to be "art" or something. And that one REALLY sucked! All and all these stories had been a total waste of time...

What was the goddamn deal with HyperGraphia these days? His comments weren't welcome at this story site anymore, but the way they had it set up you could just say you were anybody, and didn't have to leave your e-mail address. So instead of being ACE911 he used his new name- HOSER. He left a message on every one of these stories saying how much it SUCKED and the person who wrote it SUCKED and anybody who was reading it SUCKED. His comments probably would get taken down but it was fun to do that and it was important to let them know how bad they were sucking, so maybe they would knock it off and put some good stories on there...

It was only 8:40 now but he figured he might as well go to bed.

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Settling in under the covers, his hand stuck in through the top of his pygama bottoms, resting on his dick. It was his favorite part of the day. Most nights he would lie there for up to an hour before falling asleep, stroking himself and fantasizing. Occasionally a new one, just pure spontaneous mental wandering, but for the most part he relied on one of his half a dozen or so favorites, plotlines that he kept expanding on and perfecting. But which one tonight?

Flying. He liked the one where he could fly. And he knew it was kind of weird---but it was so exciting---that the reason he could fly was that his legs were now two great stout penises that he stood on, without knees or feet obviously, something like Astroboy's legs. And then he blasted off into the air by pissing, jet propelled- or would that be pee-propelled?

He wasn't sure where all this pee he used came from. Though he was no rocket scientist he realized that there would have to be some kind of reserve tank for all this "fuel", in which case he would probably be all one big sloshy bladder that was too heavy to become airborn, if this were reality, but it clearly wasn't. Was it? In these lucid half-dreams the pee just came. Maybe there was some whole other dimension or universe that was just full of his urine that he was linked to by a wormhole in his weenie.

He flew over his neighborhood, his twin streams raining down on everything. On grouchy Old Man Witherspoon who was out mowing his lawn, and got quite indignant to be showered upon thusly. And then he flew over Hawkins Park where Aaron and Frank and Jim were hanging out sitting on a picnic table. They had kind of been his buds for a while, but recently had turned against him, but now they were totally impressed as he circled overhead, "Wow Ace, you can fly!"

So now they wanted to be his friends. But instead he did his hovering trick, where he hung in one spot and pointed his dick ends at them, then let loose with a mighty blast, knocking the three losers off the table and driving them across the lawn into the oleander bushes, laughing as they coughed and sputtered and whimpered for him to stop!

"My job is done here!" he declared---like the cool mutant superhero he now was---before he soared high into the sky, the houses and shit getting smaller and smaller beneath him, the horizon receding, practically half the Pacific ocean coming into view, as he headed for...

Sometimes it was a giant door, like the front door of a house hanging in the sky, and sometimes it was a science-fictiony stargate/wormhole thing that shuttered open for him as he approached, but it was always in the same spot out over the ocean, and then he flew through it. On the other side the ocean, the shoreline at this distance looked pretty much the same (except for the volcanos), but he was in a different world now. His world. Weenie Girl Land...

There were she-male houses and apartments and office buildings and McDonalds. A Weenie Girl in a sexy sort of mailman's uniform delivering mail, looked up and winked at him. All the cars were cute little convertibles, whole freeways full of morphodites going to and fro. In the park there were whole shemale families, moms and daughters in pretty dresses with holes where their dicks hung out. And some shemale hippies in gossamer tie-died peasant dresses playing frisbee with a shemale dogs, who ran really good in her weeniegirldog high heels, despite the multiple pairs of big pink human tits crowding her underside. All the women here recognized him as some sort of benevolent demigod, the creator of this world...

But suddenly his twin jets were sputtering. His piss streams were dimishing and he was losing attitude. Strain as he might the piss just wasn't coming. The pink houses and immaculate landscaping of Weenie-Girl Land rushed upward to him. He flailed his arms and dicklegs wildly, but to no avail. Ace knew he was in trouble if he ever hit the ground, but it was gonna happen!

As he landed the crowns of his peckerlegs compressed slightly and then his penises turned into his regular legs. And then into curvy girl legs, in high heels and nylons. And now his tits were blossoming, he could feel their growing weight.

"Oh shit!" she cried in a lilting, breathless voice.

"Ha ha," they laughed, "You're one of us now!"

"Only with one special difference," leered a red corsetted priestess.

Ace's tits kept growing and growing, from huge to super-huge, until she was staggering under their weight, and when they were as big as bushel baskets he fell forward. Ace crawled to escape the growing circle of her tormentors, dragging her breasts across the grass, until even this was impossible. Her hands no longer reached the ground. She squirmed, her high heels sliding uselessly on the slick grass.

"We just wanted to be women. To live ordinary lives, to try and love and to be loved. You turned us into freaks."

"Not freaks- better!"

"Better for who?"

"But it's just a fantasy..."

"Then there ain't no harm if I do this," she jeered, and stepped around behind the nu-gurl with her enormous rigid phallus. Acette felt her flip up the back of her skirt-

"No!" she screamed.

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Ace bolted upright, surprised that he even could. It was dark, but he could see by his Baywatch nightlight and he was in his own bed. He felt his chest, relieved to find it flat, his nipples no longer giant strawberries made of tender meat. His heart was pounding, but he was safe! Himself. But man, did he ever have to pee!

He got up and trotted to the bathroom. What a crazy, crazy dream...
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CHARACTER BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE: In addition to being the star of this story, Marvin is also the minor character HOSER from my science fiction piece Life During Wartime. As Anakin Skywalker grew up to become Darth Vader (tho' this may be overstating it a bit...) Marvin will evolve into HOSER, the foul-mouthed bane of t.g. fiction sites...
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AND HOSER SAYS:
....................../ ´ ¯/)
....................,/ ¯../
.................../..../
............./ ´ ¯/'...'/ ´ ¯ ¯` · ¸
........../'/.../..../......./ ¨ ¯\r
........('(... ´... ´....  ¯~/'...')
..........................'...../
..........''............. _. · ´
..........................(
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