Baxy 01

Baxy 01

So, here's my shortest version of what had happened way back in the day. A day came when I realized that I was born in the wrong skin and that was about the same time that my mom picked up on what was happening and although that left her stuck in the middle, we got through it.

And then the day came when my dad was going to have the "talk" with me in the Den room and I put my hair in pigtails for that, used fruit punch beverage maker powder as eye shadow and sucked on a handful of cinnamon candies to brighten my lips and then the "talk" never happened.

And then I was shipped out to be raised by my Auntie Jeanie (may she be viewed kindly come judgement day and overlook her spirited ways) and that actually worked out for everyone since my parents are still married and my dad didn't hang himself, the end of my new beginning.

Anyways, my last name is Baxter and people have always called me Baxy for quite some time now and my parents changed their last name to Bowman-Barker-Benson-Brewster.

And by the way, being called Baxy is a huge pay grade above the other names I was called as I muddled my way through school, but in full disclosure, I always have been sideways enough to be referred to as the queer one. But I like Baxy better. You know, since it's a huge pay grade above the "S" name. I mean, not as huge like Mrs. Bentley, but still, right? Baxy is better, right?

"(Giggles)"

Anyways, I bring my fair share of value to the world of transitioning. I'm easy on the eyes, my eyes are not male eyes, but rather one of my more magical features and my upper lip Cupid's Bow has not been surgically enhanced as some rumors have had it, but that doesn't matter because what I don't quite understand is why I've been told that the width and size of my shoulders are where the magic begins, but I'll take it.

I'm not as outgoing and loud as I am quiet and subdued, but that was been working for me and I'm very comfortable blending into the background and popping into the conversation for a quick second and then disappearing back into the paint. For now, anyways.

Now, I will be skipping over huge, huge, huge portions of what it meant to be raised by my Auntie Jeanie (may the spiritual commissioners be in a good mood come judgement day and see past how she lived life her way and her way only), but it was the "talk" times like a bazillion and a picture book too!

I'm not saying that I'm more virgin than not, but that's exactly what I am. I mean, fine, I don't know how to engage back yet, so, sue me! But thanks for almost making it a sexual encounter when you escorted me to the curb. And for falling under the charms of my eyes and lips since that's why I assume the curb where I was to sit down on has always been brushed and cleaned for me first. I mean, I spend a lot on clothing, so I appreciate the cleaned off concrete curbs to sit down on. The end.

Well, the end except for I kind of figured out that some guys walk me to the curb in the parking area to avoid the spying eyes of their crew buddies, but making out in private is cool with me. I like wrapping around another person. And I never said a word when they came back a little later to make sure that I was safe sitting on curb all alone. I mean, I lived through the "live" presentation of the "talk", so I know what head most guys think with.

And to my credit, I wasn't always just still sitting there when their throbbing head drew them back to where they left me. Just like I'm not for everyone, everyone is not for me. Or I got scared and ran. That's the end.

Anyways, I'm not ashamed to admit that being raised by my Auntie Jeanie (may she receive a little extra credit come judgement day and overlook how she rarely acted her age) resulted in me becoming a little bit spoiled. And I already said above that it worked out for everyone and what difference does it make then, hmm? I mean, nobody knew where Auntie Jeanie (may her overlords be tipsy come judgement day and overlook her belief that sheer wear was everyday wear) nobody knew where her money came from since she didn't really have a traditional job and I didn't ask any questions at all when she bought me a condo for my 19th because she wanted her life back on track and probably because I lived her long enough to figure out that she is totally plugged in when it comes to life under the radar. And that she was the radar operator. The end because I like breathing and it was an easy trade for a key ring for life above the seedy underworld ongoings and my chance to post my "new home" meme photo of that infamous "see no, say no, hear no" split screen photo thing. Wait, thang! It's quite a photo, right?

Which I may or may not have posed for in just my undies. I mean, obviously, I was shirtless, right? Ahem, with filters, of course.

And by the way, I can't say who took the three photos and spliced them together, but that was fun and Josh even managed to maintain control and I appreciated that more than anything, especially since that was the day that I told by Josh that my shoulders bring value. And this is not a part of my story, but there are unfiltered versions and a rearview version.

And an unplanned "surprised face" split screen version because I eventually caught a glimpse at Josh and his other throbbing brain. I mean, I mean, I'm still more virgin than not, but whew! And, and, and, whew, moving on then since I've seen the future folks! And the future has a heartbeat and an elevated heartbeat at that.

Guys, right? Pose for a photo shoot in just bikini style undies and kaboom, kaboom, kaboom, right? Oh, blue and white striped undies.

Anyways, my condo, right? It's new, it's the whip, it's two stories, has a lot of windows, it's smack dab in the middle of the Square Tubular Towers condo complex and I love, love, love, that it has an upper level railed open loft bedroom that spans the width the of the interior. I mean, I wish the architects would have designed it just a tad larger overall, but I'm not complaining since the price was right.

And by the way, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that Josh wanted to wrap up our meme photo shoot with a different kind of meme as directed by him, but I already mentioned somewhere above that I'm scared and nervous about a few things and I'm sure he finished later anyways, so, the end.

Tee he, he should have pushed me down and, um, well, let's move on.

So, about my story today then. Obviously, I'll center things around me, I have a mystery that I cannot solve to bring up later, I have a few assignments from my Auntie Jeanie (may the judgement committee be fair to her come judgement day since lingerie and a bikini are just about the same around the house) that I must perform, I have a temporary roomie, who keeps refreshing the "one week" stay, which has been okay since the middle of week can get a little lonely and I might talk about a recent date that I had and I'm only bring that up because, huh, Wednesday is not just a place holder on the calendar, right?

Oh, and I'll address how I've finally found my place in life since getting out on my own. LOL, I so haven't found my place in life yet, but I'm working on it and I have a mailing address, so.

Um, the closets in my condo are full and I like the darker goth look some weeks and I like looking like a super nova bright starburst during other weeks and I recently went exploding starburst cheeks on a calendar place holder Wednesday and I might as well start there because when I have to get into any of the seedy underworld assignments that my Auntie Jeanie (may the heavens be in a good mood come judgement day and overlook her throne seat as the queen of life under the radar) imposed on me, well, that's going to take a while.

Anyways, holy my phone works snap, I was asked out on a Wednesday for a Frozen Whippy date and I went all out for that, even to the point of being mentally prepared to go three quarters of the way and things were going great and totally in his favor and there are actually other people on the Strip during the middle of the week and it was amazing!

But then we unexpectantly ran into his entire crock shoes crew. I mean, I actually lean towards being cute enough and all, so, I think he got to keep his crew stripes, but there was one of those embarrassing moments and then we were off to find a curb for me to sit on and I haven't heard from him since. But I got a free Frozen Whippy with a little sexual flirting swirled around the top and his crew buddies even tried to light their cigarettes with my sun burst super nova red cheeks and nobody got hurt, so, that wasn't too bad, right [slurp, slurp]?

And, and, and, I mean, the guy's name was Cliff and I actually fell for that, hence my portion of the sexually charged flirting, which included sucking my Frozen Whippy as seductively as I could because I was this close [pinch fingers] to falling off of the cliff with Cliff, which would have flipped my script from more virgin than not to something like less virgin than the day before, but then we ran into his calvary and all I got were a few black streaks across my face from the matches. Which, tee he, looked a lot like cat whiskers, so, it wasn't all that bad. The end.

Well, the end other than I introduced cat whiskers to one of my darker make up themes since, damn it, I'm getting curious about what killed the cat these days! Um, not my Auntie Jeanie (may the powers to be find mercy in hearts come judgement day and turn a blind eye for how she never let it be a mystery where her boobs were, where they started and where they ended since, you know, you guys were the ones who blessed her that way, so, that's actually on you) cat, we all know what happened to Misty the cat, right? RIP.

Anyways, so, what if I'm curious and then run? I can wait. I mean, you guys still have to clean and brush off my spot on the curb for me to sit since I spent that much on my clothing, but stick with me because one of these days, the cat whiskers that I now draw across both of my cheeks sometimes are going to flux and flex for another reason and you'll be in total control of that. So, stick with me [gulp].

And by the last way, smartasses, I know how to balance myself on my knees! I practice that sometimes by knee walking up the steps to my loft bedroom! For body balancing practice purposes, of course.

And by the other last way for a while, I squirm while you're pushing me down to the curb because I'm not there yet and that could be used to your advantage, knuckleheads! I wiggle and shimmy on the way down, so, pay attention! Sheesh.

Unless that makes me sound like a total loser for trying so hard to do whatever it takes to win one big time, but if you're name is something as bold as Cliff, I mean, just do it and do it your way and do it good and do it fast so that I don't have time to argue back and get it done! Not that I'm about to post that step-by-step procedure on Chang or anything. Cliff!

Anyways, hey there, hey, I'm a fairly cute transitioning loser who lives in a nice condo and who blames his questionable Auntie Jeanie (may she be given extra thoughts come judgement day for how she left her bedroom door cracked open a little more than she should have) for being single. Not that I would ever say anything like that to her face since, you know, she's so plugged in the seedy world, so, I'm single because my "to do" doesn't line up with your list. But stick with me. Someday my brain and my knees will be on the same page. I think.

And OMG, for the absolutely last way, I mean, I know that "cleft" is a medical deformation in the mouth area, but can a guy be named Cleft? For one weekend? And a person named Cleft would probably like his river date more on the goth side, right? I mean, my closets are full, so. Or just a thought for short.

Anyways, that's enough about me, for now because I have a few other things to talk about. As I mentioned in the beginning, I have a mystery that I cannot solve, even though I've drawn it out like a bazillion times, but I'll save that for later when the stars of the mystery enter my story. And if I'm missing something small and stupid as the solution, you don't have to be mean with your reply comments. Just tell me what I'm missing. Later.

So, I'll move onto a recent assignment that I received from my beloved Auntie Jeanie (may she be viewed kindly come judgement day for her life style choices and seedy underworld power), who forced me to invite her over to see my place, that she bought for me with money that came from who knows where and to validate my end of my assignment.

And since my life turned out for the better, I mean, Auntie Jeanie (may her burden be lightened come judgement day because she actually lives on the top shelf) is welcome any time at all.

[A very graceful opening of the front door and then slides the hell out of the way because the queen of living under the radar commands things like that without saying a single word]

"OMG, look at this place! And come judgement day, tee he, do you think I will get a little extra credit for spoiling you so much, Baxy? Not that I'll need any extra credit (whew, wipes brow) or anything, so?"

Well, my Auntie Jeanie (may the heavens give her a little extra credit come judgement day for how she made her own unique fashion statements at literally every family gathering) has always meant well, so.

"I mean, did I buy you condo or a spaceship, Baxy, hmm?"

Well, since the condo is a tall square tube design, I mean, it may look like you're looking up into a space ship from the ground floor.

[Glances up towards the railed banister loft open area. And then stares up at the loft open area in awe]

"Well, I wasn't expecting this type of presentation with one, two, three, four, five, six mannequins and by the way, I realize that there are seven mannequins looking down at us, but I'm afraid to say anything about the way the seventh mannequin is dressed! In front of you, that is, tee he. Also, please tell me that those are the work of your roomie and not your last desperate attempt to have girlfriends, Baxy!"

That never ever crossed my mind! I mean, it did just then, but not before. Tee he.

Oh, it was a row of seven mannequins, fully dressed out, all in a row guarding my upper loft railed banister. With, tee he, their booties pointing towards my bed.

"[Whew, wipes brow again] which is nothing that I would have ever expected from Bo Bolsters, the bowling champion, Baxy, so, huh, the things that you can learn about a person when you see how they live, right, nephew-niece-nephew?"

"Oh, Auntie Jeanie, tee he, my roomie isn't Bo Bolsters the bowler, tee he, my roomie is Bo Bow Bee, the cosplay seamstress. And part time freak since, you know, since the seventh mannequin and all, so, oh, here she comes now down the loft steps."

[A flow, a very graceful flow down the stairway]

"(Whispers and watches) holy Bumble Bee, Baxy, is she allowed outside when men are awake?)"

[Yep, that's quite the graceful floating flow down the steps]

"Hi, I'm Bo Bow Bee. You must be Auntie Jeanie (may those who judge you come judgement day spare your soul and your boobs) and I can see why your nephew-niece-nephew is such a tit person since, you know, they are right there and all, but they are a blessing and deserve their respect, so?"

"Oh, well then, it's on right from the start then, hmm, well, I've never stepped an entire foot over the line, Miss Bumble Bee Mee Beautiful! Which you really are and tits just grow the way they grow, but thanks for noticing, although, tee he, um, well, your turn."

"Oh, and I believe that about how you've never stepped more than two feet over the line and thank you back. Anyways, my bedroom is on this lower level, behind the bathroom and I only use the open loft area as my workshop area because I can spread things out along the loft area and because the stupid architects didn't design the lower level with the space that I need, which is my way of saying that I don't sleep with your nephew-niece-nephew, so?"

Ahh, nephew-niece-nephew? Baxy, right? It's that simple!

"(Dumbass nephew-niece-nephew, she's hot!) Well, then I believe you back about that, Bo Bow Bee. So, um, well, I invited myself over here for a reason and now I'm twice shocked over what I see up in the loft area and what I see standing right in front of me, so, Baxy sweetie, what was my underhanded, seedy underground reason for spying on you, I mean, visiting with you today?

"Your secret and legendary party, Auntie Jeanie (may the overlords be buzzed come judgement day and over look how those couple of people could have disappeared on their own) and my meeting with your cheerleader days arch rival, Mrs. Kindler. Oh, and her niece, Kelli."

"Oh, oh yeah, mwahahaha, my old arch rival, Kelsey Kindler! Hmm, well, first, are you guys sure there isn't a threesome thing going on around here? Not that there is anything wrong with that. In these modern times. Gulp."

"Oh, well then, Auntie Jeanie to my roomie, your nephew-niece-nephew, I mean..."

Seriously! It's four letters! Baxy.

"I've actually crawled into Baxy's bed twice now since I temporarily moved in like seven weeks ago, but both times were innocent reverse spoons. And if I said that wrong, I meant booty to booty, so?"

"(Dumbass stupid ass, nephew-niece-nephew) well, I like your gusto, Mee Bee Too Cute, I mean, maybe I left the bedroom door cracked open two times while my nephew-niece-nephew was staying under my roof, so?"

"Oh, since were closing in on the truth, on the fourth time I booty spooned him, I sneezed three times and Baxy's body responded, um, well, it worked, so, truce then, Auntie Jeanie (may the heavens be in a cheerful mood come judgement day, um, for me, because I'm riding this rich bitch all the way home, just like Baxy does) so, truce, hmm?"

"Hmm, truce (and may the peace makers be drunk come judgement day because I'm thinking about going lesbian for a day), hmm, truce, Bumble Mee Please."

"Alright, alright, alright! We've all made mistakes, so, let's move on, shall we real ladies? I need to get it and hit it up on the Strip to fulfill my assignment!"

"(Tee he, your nephew-niece-nephew said hit it.)"

"(Tee he, yep, tee he. Also, hmm?)"

"(Once, booty to booty was skin to skin. Truce?)"

"(OMFG! Stupid ass nephew-niece-nephew! Done.)"

"(Ahem, I live here temporarily, Auntie Jeanie (may those who judge, judge with light hands come judgement day for how she dresses like she was 29), so?)"

"(Um, [tap, tap, tap, make it happen, Gorgon, tap, text sent] I just bought the condo complex, Mee Bee Too Cute, so, um, where were we?)"

Well, you see, folks, when three people are standing shoulder to shoulder while staring up at the row of seven warrior babe mannequins, I mean, that whispering stuff just doesn't work, so.

Also, you remember my magical and perfect width shoulders, right?

And by the final way, my body did not "react" that time when Bo Bow Bee sneezed three times while booty spooning me! LOL, it was over during the second sneeze! Ahem, um, moving on then.

But remember that I've been in a bed with a woman. And my shoulders. If you keep your eyes out of my eyes.

[Knock, knock, knock, a perfect pair of shoulders opens the front door]

"Ahem, you're late, Hank! But thanks for showing up to drive me to the Strip for my assignment. Also, should I change or can you handle these shorts, hmm?"

[A confused flashing all over the place of the eyes]

"Bah, bah, bah, I like those shorts on you, Baxy and just what the hell am I spying up along your loft area? If you're freaky like that, I mean, you should have put that as your yearbook statement!"

[Confused eyes still flashing all over the place]

"And holy it's true, snap! That's not Bo Bolsters the bowler! Um, ooh, and of course, I will gently kiss the back of the hand of the famous Auntie Jeanie (may the frowning eyes soften come judgement day for how she accidently wore a Peek-A-Boo bra to the festival bake sale, twice), so [smooch]."