Musings on Two Events

imagesAt my latest appointment with my transition doctor my pleas were heard. Since my second visit I’ve asked him to increase my dosage. I’m old and in a hurry LOL. Of course, I asked in a joking manner… I don’t tell highly educated doctors what to do. He’d look at my labs and say ‘no, you are where I want you to be.’  Well I’ll be damned if he looked over all my lab results this time, nodded gently and said ‘your testosterone is excellent, but I think we can up your estrogen.’ I squealed a little bit, embarrassingly so. He raised my dosage by 50%! Now we’re getting somewhere.

Had a horrible experience recently. If you’ve read my blog you know I am involved with various ministries in the Catholic church, and have had some minor and major battles with priests, their homilies and the Church’s stance. At the church I am currently a member I happen to be the head of the bereavement committee. When a parishioner dies I lead the process from notification to creating the mass booklet to the funeral mass itself. I’m not done until dirt is being thrown on the grave.

So on Tuesday i saw through a funeral mass. As usual, due to too much practice, everything went perfectly. I take pride in making things run smoothly… this is a process to honor a deceased’s life and is important to the family to remember their last pubic appearance of their loved one.

At the after-mass luncheon the family and friends gather to share a meal and memories. We on the committee take part in the meal. So I’m sitting at a table with my co-members shoveling down some home cooking not my own (always a plus) when one of the family members approaches us. This is a normal event. The family likes to thank us for our efforts at this difficult time.

“I just wanted you to know… i find you a disgrace.  I’m disgusted you had anything to do with my mother’s funeral. I hope you’re happy.”

Stunned? Yeah. Speechless? Absolutely. Angry? No. Only angry I don’t pass well enough to have no such scene. I’m rarely spoken to quite so directly, though. When my ex-priest spent four homilies decrying the destruction of the family by those ‘men in dresses’ I simply left that church and moved to this one. I’m not a confrontational person.

Those two events intertwine. Hopefully my transition will improve enough that someone may say to themselves ‘something odd about that ugly old woman’ but feel no need to ask me why.  Then I can go about my life quietly without incident. I have no desire to do anything other than live my life quietly and in peace.

 

Depression

AdobeStock_50031686-650x433Yes, once again. Hormone Replacement Therapy has its joys and its drawbacks. I can only explain my occasional depression by the hormones, as otherwise I should be ecstatic every day. I’m happily married to the love of my life. I love her in real life too. I have friends who care for me and invite me to sail, to attend fun theme parties. I live in a beautiful home and have exciting adventures in Second Life that I would never attempt in Real.

Yet here I am. Listening to live music at Beau Belle Coffee Shop and crying uncontrollably. Well, I was. I’m OK now or I wouldn’t be able to type haha. <sigh>

There are days like this I think I’ll just chuck the whole thing. Pour my drugs down the toilet and flush them away just like I’ve flushed away my life in this vain attempt to be something apparently God didn’t want for me and I feel will never attain. Burn my dresses, toss my wigs in the trash and lock myself away in a small cabin in the Appalachians or something. (Notice I didn’t mention my heels. A girl’s gotta have something.) I wonder if they’ll deliver pizza up there? My tastes are simple.

Ever have days like this? Where nothing is worth it?

Fuck.

I’ll be better tomorrow.

An Author’s Decision

22ff3f30cac050b53e3ab321989caafaI’ve been writing a while now. I started off my publishing career with transgender erotic romances. I published many books/series in that genre. I enjoy the romance of it, taking events from my life and romanticizing them making sure the endings are always happy in the sweetest sense.

Then on a whim, and on a kind of challenge from a writing mentor, I switched to the futa genre. Lots of fun developing an entire mythos for a non-existent species. All of the characters and their sex scenes were as outrageous as I could imagine… and I can imagine a lot LOL.

Sales were radically different. The market for transgender romance is small. I suppose mostly the trans-curious. Fair enough. While I found them emotionally satisfying I was only able to reach my self-assigned goal: To sell enough books that I can pay for a nice restaurant meal once a month… with wine. Heehee not exactly a lofty goal, but I’m not trying to pay my bills with writing. Futa sales were easily twice, usually three, sometimes four times. I earned enough for the goal each week. Restaurant food! No cooking. No cleaning.

Sadly, though, I’ve become disenchanted with futas. Despite being able to let my mind soar into unchartered ideas I missed the more realistic interaction between my transgender characters. While I used futas and their problems as a surrogate for transgender people it just isn’t the same.

So, bottom line: I’m returning to the writing of transgender romantic erotica. I still get to be one nasty piece of work LOL, but hopefully my characters will be someone you may recognize, or want to know and find out what happens next. Sales will suck… don’t care. I will be pleasing myself.

This is not to say I’m going to abandon vampires or succubi… those are still perking in my mind. My focus will be at a different angle. Happy writing/reading!

Nightmare Solved

black-and-white-crying-girl-sad-Favim.com-1347828A while back I posted explaining to the person I love the reason for my — shall we put it mildly and call it distrust — of men. Not A Pretty Story. (Trust me… don’t read it.) I had the pleasure last night of discussing my first books (T-Girl in the Office) with a friend who had been reading this 9-book series. As noted before this is a romanticized version of my life. So she asked if one of the events was true. The scene of my near-castration at the hands of a gang of assholes. Sadly it was true. We talked about it for a while and I explained it had finally been figured out that I suffer from what I consider a mild form of PTSD. I’ll leave that diagnosis to those military types who have suffered real, actual trauma, not my piddling little panic. Nevertheless, it affected me and my life ever since. It has defined me. The result was a recurring nightmare. I’d wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. My dog doesn’t even wake up any more hahahaha.

In talking about this with her it slowly dawned on me: I have not had the nightmare in… I can’t recall the last time! I cannot recall!!! And I don’t want to think about it other than to note its demise. I can attribute this to one person and one person only. My love. I will call her Kelly here. My Second Life wife. Through her love and her love alone, her caring nature, calming demeanor and the fact that I know had I been with her it never would have happened. She would move heaven and earth to prevent it. I now realize that not all men are assholes who want to hurt me for no reason other than that I am different. Kelly would stand between me and any attack… physical or verbal. There is not a doubt in my mind. My darling, I could not love you more. Thank you for being in my life, SL and RL.

 

 

You’re Kidding Me

7577473-woman-with-surprised-look-in-front-of-computer-stock-photo-shockedColor me surprised. My last book, Desperate Hot Futa Wife has been available for purchase 8 days now… 9 by the time you read this post. Usually, my sales are good for the first weekend and then trail off. Which is OK because I usually have a new one to publish. But this has me flummoxed:

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I have a ranking of #23 for Erotica/Lesbian and #27 in Erotica/Transgender. I can’t tell you how overjoyed that makes me.Thanks to you all. Especially you, Ladydawn, for the lovely review. And no, you don’t get a cut of the profits. LOL

Happy Camper

captureI am happy to report — and forgive me if this comes across wrong, I’m just very relieved — that despite my self-imposed two-month layoff I have not been forgotten by my readers. My latest book, Desperate Hot Futa Wife, went live this morning. By mid-afternoon it had reached a ranking of  25 for Erotica/Lesbian and 40 in LGBT/Transgender. It has since moved up to 28 and 45 but I’ll live with that. I’m happy it was bought/read at all haha. Seriously. Thank you to those who do read my work. I would kiss each and every one of you if I could just track you down.

I’m still never going to take two months off again! Trust me.

Desperate Hot Futa Wife Book 1: Relief LIVE

futa-wife-book-1Advice to my writer friends: if you are like me and have a specific routine you use in writing… certain location, certain hours, certain method… never take a two-month sabbatical. It was hell getting back into the swing of my process. Sheesh.

That said, Desperate Hot Futa Wife Book 1: Relief is available for Amazon Kindle.

Plot

Miho had a problem. A husband out of work and a dwindling bank account. They couldn’t afford to wait for him to find a new job. Something had to be done now, and it was going to get done by her.

When a beautiful milf rescues her from public humiliation Miho felt duty bound to repay her. The method may have been unconventional but it was effective.

Pointed in the direction of a possible long-term solution for her financial woes, Miho sets off for a life-changing meeting.

This is a 7,000-word story of a futanari taking matters into her own hands and contains futa sex, lesbian encounter, and a threesome.

Excerpt

Janette and Amy met her at the door. Janette beamed and invited her into the room with a wave. Amy stood behind the taller quietly, studying the shapely futa.

“So glad you came. We asked for someone fresh and beautiful. And how you do fill the bill. Miho is it?”

“Yes,” Miho answered as she looked around the beautifully appointed house. Very expensively furnished.

“What do you think, Amy? Does she fill the bill?”

“Yes, Mistress. She fills the bill quite nicely.”

“How can I be of service?” she asked nervously. She hated this . . . this whoring herself out. But she had to do something. Her husband couldn’t, so it was up to her.

“Just watch, darling. That’s all.” Miho looked between the two women. They were well dressed and lovely. The smaller one kept her eyes downcast while the taller was obviously in charge. They made small talk while Amy poured wine. Nothing specific, just a general relaxing chat with each other.

“Well,” Janette finally said after the wine was gone, standing. “Shall we?”

Janette and Amy walked into the bedroom, a trail of discarded clothing marking the way for Miho to follow. She resisted the urge to pick them up and fold neatly. Not her job. Her job was to watch. This is so odd, she thought.

“Get on the bed, dear,” Janette said when Amy drew near. Her short blonde hair was stylishly mussed – model perfect. Her lingerie – white thigh high stockings, bra and panties blended with the lacy corset to present a pale vision. Janette looked on hungrily while her lean legs scaled the high mattress. Dark eyes drank in the loveliness as she positioned herself in the middle, bright eyes eagerly returning the smoldering look.

Miho stepped into the room. A chair had been set in a location to watch all the action. She sat quietly, knees together, hands resting on top. Janette’s long hair ran down her back. All she had on was a tiny patch of white panties. Her breasts stood proudly.

By the end of this book I finally was comfortable and ready to roll. <whew> Never again. If nothing else I’ll write love letters by the ream.

Check Desperate Hot Futa Wife out.