Forward
Hello and welcome to the launch of my new serial on GayDemon. This is going to be a slice of life, ongoing series set during the trials and tribulations of an intersex person who presents as a young man. You don’t know what intersex means? Read on and find out! This story will be familiar to gay men. There is spice for readers looking for steamy sex but the sex is woven into a much larger tapestry of life. The story is a spinoff set in the same universe as “The Village” by Lil Guy. I highly recommend you check him out HERE.
I will mention Village favorites from time to time but Ash has their own life. Likewise, Ash might occasionally visit their friends in North Carolina but play only a minor role. I want this to feel like a full, lush continuity. A sand box if you will. I hope you help me build sand castles with Ash. There is plenty of room. I want to thank Lil Guy for his patience, his encouragement, and his support. There would not be a story without his help. Thank you.
Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! It’s actually happening! I’m with my best friend (my best friend! I have a best friend! I never thought I’d have any friends let alone a best friend. Ahem, sorry).
Let’s try that again. I’m with my best friend, in my own car, driving over two thousand miles to start life as an independent, self-sustaining, hopefully productive member of society. I’m writing my own story, riding into an uncertain future with my hands firmly–shit, my knuckles are white. Must not grip the steering wheel so tight, Ash.
Sorry, my brain does that. My thoughts run like a cat with the zoomies. You need to understand what I’m saying so I’ll do my best to remain coherent. I guess I should start at the beginning.
Hi, my name is Asher Morrison. My friends call me “Ash” or if they really like me, “Asso.” There is a story behind that last one but later. I’m 19 years old and I was born in Wilmington, North Carolina. My father died soon after I was born. My mama raised me, the youngest of three. My sister Haley is eldest, then there is Grady, my brother.
My family was dirt poor. Mama worked two jobs until Haley and Grady got old enough to work. By then Mama got injured on the job and drew Disability. Haley was always sick, she kept talking to imaginary people and wandering off to who knows where. One time she accidentally set a fire on the job. The state put her in a home for her own protection after that. That left Grady as the sole provider. What about me, you might ask?
I ain’t proud to say it but I was a sickly kid too, but not like my sister. I was pale and puny, always coming down with something. I was slow to crawl and walk. Mama always blamed it on herself. She didn’t have me until she was starting the Change of Life. She never took care of herself, what with working so hard and raising two kids practically alone.
I never blamed her. She did the best she could with what she had. She was my hero, my defender, my advocate, and my biggest fan. I loved her like nothing else in the whole world.
Anyway, I was puny and sick a lot but I did great at school. I was really good at art. Mama bought me supplies so I could draw and paint. Later I learned how to do it on a computer. My ambition was to go to college on a scholarship and work as a professional artist. Then I could take care of Mama like she deserved. Only, life didn’t work out that way.
I was twelve when Mama got sick. The doctor told her that she had Bronchoalveolar Carcinoma, about the worst form of lung cancer. She quit smoking years ago but it was too late. She hung on for nine months before she passed away. That left only me and Grady to look after Haley, only Grady wasn’t having it.
I was only 13, too young to work. Grady was my legal guardian but he was barely 18. He wanted a better life, he wanted his freedom, and I was holding him back. He would scream at me, call me a “waste of flesh,” a “freak,” and “misspent seed.” He tore up my paintings and threw away my art supplies. After that he disappeared, leaving me alone and without food sometimes for weeks at a time. The neighbors finally called Child Protective Services on him and the state put me into foster care. I guess nobody wanted to adopt a sickly, emotionally scarred, withdrawn teenager so I wound up in the group home.
Ask anybody who ever spent time in the system and they’d tell you group homes are the worst. I survived by making myself as invisible as possible. I was too small for my age. I’d yet to have a growth spurt. One of the care workers saw it and got me to a doctor. They ran all kinds of tests and took too much blood but they came up with what was wrong. It’s kind of complicated so I’ll keep it simple.
I was what people in olden times called a “Hermaphrodite.” Nowadays doctors call it a lot of things but my specific case is “Klinefelter Syndrome.” I looked like a boy on the outside but inside I was all mixed up between boy and girl. My body couldn’t make up its mind what it wanted so I never went through puberty.
The doctor gave me a choice. I could live as a boy or as a girl. People often said I was as pretty as a girl but I wanted to be a boy. I had a dick–it wasn’t anything to write home about but it was mine and I was kind of attached to it–and so I chose to live as a boy. That meant that I had to take testosterone injections every two weeks for the rest of my life.
My health perked up first thing and I discovered what all the fuss was about with sex. I started crushing hard on the men and boys at the group home, especially the bigger boys with muscles–who happened to be my bullies. My brain sometimes betrayed me and I’d have the most depraved dreams.
The worst of the boys was Clay. Clay was also the hottest of the boys and the meanest. He was 17 with skin as white as snow, black hair like a crow’s feathers, and eyes as black as pure sin. He was one pretty son of a sea cow and the bastard knew it. Clay was about to age out of the system and he had a pack of younger boys following him around like hyenas. I nicknamed them “Shenzi,” “Benzai,” and “Ed” after the Lion King. Clay was of course “Scar.”
I never knew what Clay’s damage was but he hunted me down no matter where I hid. He said I was his favorite victim. I had awful night terrors about him chasing me. After I started taking testosterone the dreams started getting weird.
The most vivid dream I can remember had Clay cornering me in the bathroom. I had a tooth brush in my mouth and wore my pajamas so it must’ve been just before lights out at the group home.
I was 16 at the time but I looked 12. I was just a little over five feet in height and as skinny as a bean pole, weighing in at around a hundred pounds. That’s me, a real life 98 pound weakling.
The doctor said I started taking hormones too late. I might grow a little more and build muscle like a boy but I’d never be big and strong like other boys.
Anyway, I gasped at the sight of Clay’s reflection in the mirror and spun around to face him. My heart raced in panic and I held my toothbrush like a knife. I just knew he was gonna kill me–or worse. He shot out a hand and choked me before I could scream for help. He then yanked me off my feet and slammed me back against the wall. Here I am seeing my life passing before my eyes and all I can think about are the muscles bulging in his arm.
Clay had a wild look in his eyes. He grinned pure wickedness at me as he drew so close our noses just about touched. “There you are Princess,” he used that name I hated so much. “I got an awful feeling like you were avoiding me. You wouldn’t leave me all cold and alone now, would you?”
“Damn it, Clay! Leave me alone!” I spat past gnashing teeth.
“I can’t do that, Princess. I ain’t done with you yet. You promise not to yell and I’ll let up on your neck.” I nodded as best I could and he kept his word. I could breathe better but he still trapped me against the wall.
I caught a whiff of his cheap after shave, lavender soap, and something else. It reminded me of clean sweat. Whatever it was, it went straight to my dick. I pondered this development when Clay reached for my hair.
“Such pretty red hair on a boy, it’s sinful.” He raked his nails across my scalp and I let out a moan straight from the pit of my balls. It felt so damn good! I wanted more but then I remembered who was doing it. I stiffened in Clay’s grip and he seized my cock and balls in his free hand.
He tutted me, “No moving unless I give permission, understand?” I squirmed and he squeezed until tears streamed down my cheeks. For some depraved reason I was as hard as a rock in his palm and Clay’s grin turned sly. He rubbed his thumb up and down my cock. I grunted and twitched with the most indescribably erotic sensations. I’d never experienced anything like it. My breathing deepened and I felt heat flush my cheeks. I couldn’t tell if it happened because I felt so ashamed or because I craved more from my tormentor. I suspect it was both.
“Goddamn,” Clay chuckled, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You like this!” He continued massaging my cock. I pinched my eyes shut and tore my gaze away. I refused to give him the satisfaction of humiliating me.
“Look me in the eyes!” He gave me a painful squeeze. I cried out but he covered my mouth before my noise alerted somebody.
“Such pretty blue eyes,” Clay searched for something in my watery gaze. “You really should’ve been a girl. All this pretty is wasted on a boy.”
“Fuck you, Clay.” I clenched my trembling fists.
“That’s the idea, Princess.” He fixed me with a wolfish gleam as my blood grew chill. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody how much you like being my bitch. It’s just between us.”
“I hate you!” My outburst earned me another painful squeeze. By now I had leaked so much that the front of my pajama pants was drenched.
Clay surprised me then by letting go and stepping back to strip off his black T-shirt. He gave me an opportunity to bolt for freedom but I stood there gaping at his glorious chest like an idiot.
“Strip,” he commanded. I continued ogling every swell of muscle before my eyes. Clay was a gorgeous specimen of young manhood, well formed and virile with thick tufts of hair under his arms and a twisting line of short hairs that circled his navel and dipped under the waistband of his jeans. His beauty led me to think in goddamn poetry. My fingers twitched to draw him, to touch him.
“I said, strip!” Clay sank his fingers into my loose top and yanked it off roughly. I froze in terror but equally potent arousal. Sex was not instinctual for me. I only felt it after taking hormones. I had no idea what to do or how to act so I stood paralyzed, an aching ball of want.
Clay yanked down my pants and caught my dick on the way. It sprang up, flicking a string of clear fluid across Clay’s arm and my chest. Clay renewed his grip on my cock and balls only now I moaned louder with skin contact. The tip of Clay’s fingers honed on my taint while his thumb smeared the juices piled on the tip of my foreskin across my sensitive glans. The strength in my knees fled with a rush and I dropped to the smooth tiled floor. Clay loomed over me, a vision of hell with the Devil’s smile. I understood at that moment that I’d played right into his hands.
Clay shucked his tight jeans and kicked them to the side. His white briefs sailed off in another direction. I wondered why none of the other boys bunked in my room wandered into the bathroom but then it hit me, they knew what was happening and either went along with it or they were too chicken shit to risk Clay’s wrath. I was on my own, gazing up at the column of flesh jutting boldly from Clay’s groin.
Clay was big, not that I’d seen many cocks in my time but he was at least twice my size. I could have seen him performing in the porn videos I sneaked during my turn at the computer.
I had the satisfaction that Clay was at least as hard as I was and just as wet. A long string of juice hung enticingly from his slit. Clay took my head in both hands and reeled me in like a damn trout.
By now I was beyond caring who Clay was or what he had done to me. I was hypnotized by his throbbing manhood. “Suck it,” he demanded.
I balked which only seemed to encourage him. I glared hotly and he anticipated my threat. “Bite me and I’ll bust out your teeth. Suck it, we both know you want it.” He snarled.
His eyes were glazed with lust, his chest heaved with anticipation. His muscles clenched restlessly, reminding me of a horse. He was damn well hung like one. His heated state filled me with a sense of power. My bully needed me. That power gave me ideas and so I dove in.
I’d never pleasured a man before. Hell, I didn’t even have the inclination until recently. I lacked the instinct to know what to do. I had only the porn I’d watched for reference.
Clay guided me with his hands while I plied his fleshy crown with kittenish licks and kisses. Clay’s scent grew potent, his taste struck me as heady, salty with an alkaline afternote. It tripped some switch in my brain and suddenly I craved it like a starving man.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it, Princess. You’re my good little bitch, my pretty little whore.” He raked his nails back through my hair.
His words stung deeply and yet something about them struck a flame in my core. I sucked his crown fully into my mouth. I swallowed him inch after inch until I gagged. I pulled off by reflex but Clay held me tight. He shoved to the back of my mouth and then down my throat until spit ran in runnels past my lips. He choked off my breathing until I panicked. My nose ran in torrents, tears cascaded down my cheeks.
“Come on Princess, you can do better than that. I know you want it. You can do it, you’re my good little slut. Trust me, I’ll take care of you.”
I knew better but let him have his way. Clay yanked me off just as I started to black out. He then subjected me to this torture several more times. My fear eased over time and I became enthralled with the feeling of fullness in my throat. Clay throbbed with life. He stretched the cartilage in my throat until I felt molded to him. I cupped his swollen balls in one hand and used my nails to scratch his taint in the back. Clay rewarded me with a full body shiver and a soughed whisper, “fuck!”
Soon I ached for another kind of fullness and Clay seemed to read my mind. “That’s enough,” he dragged me to my feet by my hair. He chuckled at my state. “Fuck, Princess, but you are wrecked, with pouty lips all wet and shiny with spit. I ain’t done with you though.”
He spun me about and pushed until I bent over the sink. He bent over to tug on my ear with his teeth. “I’m going to ruin you, Princess.” He breathed hotly against my ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard no other man will be good enough for you. You’re mine now. Mine to fuck, mine to breed, anytime, anywhere I want.”
The man was insane but then so was I, for I stood there and let him do it. I no longer had the excuse of victimhood. I no longer felt hatred or terror. My body thrummed with anticipation. I rested my cheek on crossed hands, braced on the vanity. I hiked my ass invitingly and met Clay’s gaze in my reflection. His grin of pleasure reminded me of a shark. He clapped my ass cheeks hard enough to leave handprints. I jumped in shock, “The hell, Clay?”
“You want more?” He smacked me again. I pushed to get past him, my submissive mood shattered when Clay rang his arms around my neck and pulled me back against him. He shushed me, caressing my hot, tender ass. It hurt when he first spanked me but now I pushed into his touch. Delicious shocks coursed through every inch of my skin, especially where he spanked me. It felt so good that I wallowed against him like a cat in heat. I desperately needed Clay to touch me. I was going crazy for it.
“There, I take good care of you don’t I?” He bit along my ear, eliciting little whines from me. He slid his cock between my thighs, wetting my tiny, vestigial ball sack until fluid ran down my legs.
Clay pushed me back across the sink to watch my reflection while he squatted behind me. I wondered what he was up to until I sensed him press his face between my ass cheeks.
I wailed with surprise and rapturous delight as he pulled my globes apart and dove in. Clay probed past my rectum with his tongue. I writhed uncontrollably with pleasure as he licked, smacked and nipped me in an incredibly lewd manner. I uttered sounds that belonged in a whorehouse on Easter Sunday in response. Clay shattered my innocence without apology. He drowned me with carnal knowledge and I drank greedily. I lost track of time. It seemed like he tortured me with need for an eternity but I whimpered when he backed away. Before I uttered a complaint he tapped my rectum with his cock and drove inside with authority.
I pushed off from the sink with a long, ragged gasp as Clay filled me beyond capacity. He took possession of my body. He used me for his depraved pleasure and God help me, I was onboard for it. Hell, I waved flags and shot off fireworks.
Clay uttered a most lascivious moan as he bottomed out. He sank his fingers in my hair and pulled. He covered my mouth with his free hand as I screamed in unfettered bliss. He drilled ever deeper inside me, setting a plundering pace. I lost touch with reality, falling into a dreamy state of sublime satisfaction. My breathless grunts matched the rhythm of Clay’s rutting plunges, my hungry whines beckoned him to seize ever more terrain in my consciousness. After a time a force rose from the pit of my balls, gripping my attention more tightly with every stab to my brutalized prostate. I rose onto my toes as this dawning wave of sensation threatened to drag me under. I wanted to cry out a warning but my body rebelled, too drunk on pleasure to respond to my will. Clay sensed my impending crescendo and took my neck in both hands. He restricted my breathing and I clawed with instinctive panic. Somehow my struggling stoked my pleasure into a conflagration. He released me to howl my release. He slammed me one final time, his release flooding my channel to overflowing. His words chased me into darkness. “That’s my pretty little whore.”
If only that happened in real life but Clay was a total douche. I have no idea what real sex feels like. Well, no, I take that back. A really sweet, totally hot guy named Martin showed me the pleasure of oral sex. He was so nice, I wanted to spend more time with him but our schedules didn’t allow for it. We text all the time and he is totally on board with my move to Phoenix. That leads me to now, releasing the steering wheel so I don’t clutch it so tightly.
“Hey, Asso, eyes on the road!” That’s my best friend, Trevor. He is keeping me company on the long drive. I glance over and smile as he is blasting “Nothing’s Going to Break-A My Stride.” He is bouncing in his seat next to me, singing along, having fun, so full of energy. Nothing gets him down. I feel so lucky to have him in my life.
“I am paying attention!” I whined indignantly.
“You looked like you were a million miles away.” Trevor gave me an arch look. “What were you thinking about?”
“Just writing my story in my head. I’ve gotta have something to post online later, don’tcha think?”
“I guess, but don’t miss out on the moment, especially behind the wheel.”
“Yes, Master Smartass,” I gave him a sulky side eye. I couldn’t hold it and finally we laughed. Trevor pulled me into singing along with him. He reached across and massaged the back of my neck. Oh, my God, that went straight to my dick after daydreaming about Clay but I couldn’t resist leaning into it. Trevor said I was touch starved. I believed him. I want him to touch me everywhere but friends don’t do that, do they?
“Stop biting your lip and talk to me, Ash.” Trevor gave my neck a comforting squeeze. “What’s eating you.”
I breathed a forlorn sigh. “I wish there was a manual for how to be human. I’m always so scared that I’ll do something or say something weird and piss people off.”
“Do you think other people know more than you or care half as much?”
“It seems obvious to me. I can’t open my mouth without putting my foot in it.”
“Really, cause all those people we left back there think differently. They love you, Ash. I–we love you.”
I caught that misspeak. What was he going to say? Should I say something? No, he is looking out the window. I took time to think about his words.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just worked up about this move. I’m so afraid I’m gonna fuck something up and I’ll be all alone again.”
“There are no guarantees in life, Ash. Life ain’t fair. Shit happens.”
“Well, aren’t you just bubbling over with optimism?” I drawled sarcastically.
“I am,” he beamed. Damn, he was so cute when he was acting like a little shit.
“I’m also realistic. Ash, you can’t go through life being afraid of failure. My grandpa taught me something before he passed. I think it applies here. He said, ‘Trevor, fear is a thief. If you let it, fear will steal every precious moment of your life without hesitation or remorse. It will pluck opportunity from your fingertips leaving only regret in its wake. It will render triumph into ruin and achievement into loss. Fear appears savage and insurmountable but it is only a shadow cast upon the wall. Its sole power over you is your consent.’”
“Fear is also natural, Trevor. How do I know if I’m doing the right thing?”
“You don’t, nobody does. Make the choice you least regret. If it doesn’t work, pick it up and try again.”
“Damn, you should get a job like Seth’s. You’d make a hell of a therapist.”
“Oh, hell no! You couldn’t pay me to do that job! More power to Seth but I’d go crazy listening to people’s problems all day.”
“You listen to mine.” I gave him a look. He blushed so pretty and took his time responding.
“I like listening to you, Ash. You don’t bitch, moan, and complain–much.” We said that last part in unison and laughed. “Your babble is funny and I’m always learning something new. I could listen to you all day.”
I felt heat in my cheeks. “You’re so sweet. I’ll remind you that you said that the next time you tell me to shut up.”
“I’ll just turn up the radio.” He cranked up the next song and we got back to our trip. We had to get past Alabama to stay on schedule. For the moment at least I looked toward the future with a heart full of hope. Thanks for tagging along.
Author Note: At present I’m looking at posting regularly once per week until I build up a buffer of chapters to post on holidays or unexpected delays. I crave your ideas and feedback. Give me ideas for daydreams or fantasies for Ash. Tell me who you want as Ash's lover or what kind of kinky encounter you want them to have. I'm all ears! Reply to me here or contact me via email at my link at the top of the page
. I look forward to hearing from you!
