By Larry Taft as told to John Hughes
From the April 1979 issue of National LampoonOne morning last winter, um, I woke up and, well, I was asleep and then I woke up, and what I found was, um, well, I woke up, and there it was, and my…what should have been there wasn’t and what was there was…it was…a vagina. I mean, I was a sixteen-year-old guy with a box! I had a damn ugly, hairy woman’s privates and it was gross and sickening, and I was so pissed off I wanted to punch it right in the face!
When I went to bed I had a regular guy’s cock and nuts and pubic hair. But when I woke up and looked inside my pajamas, all that stuff was gone and instead I had this…vagina and hardly any hair down there and a butt that was pink and bald. It was so disgusting I’m surprised I didn’t just march downstairs and go out in the garage and not pull up the door and start my mom’s station wagon and die. How could I be a guy when I had a twat? I mean, what was I? Where was my "dick"? Where were my balls? Why did all of this happen?
I thought about it a lot and I think what maybe happened was I tried to get high off the gas that’s supposed to be inside a can of whipped cream and I was also smoking a lot of Kools, and I eat real shitty and I always sit too close to the TV and I never read with good light and I…well, like a lot of guys my age I…do a lot of…"self-jacking off." It was either that or God did it.
But anyway, there I was with a vagina. Oh, by the way, it isn’t polite to say this and I’m not being conceited, but the dick I used to have was a pretty good one. It wasn’t so big that it was gross and it wasn’t so tiny that it was a joke, and it didn’t have moles or spots on it like that of a guy who was in my gym class two years ago (Jim S.), and it didn’t bend over to one side when it was in a "hard-on." My balls were O.K., too, and my hair was decent and my rear end was normal, and I was overall happy with that stuff and I was super-sorry to see it gone, really.
So, like, there I was, you know, on the edge of the bed looking down into my lap, and instead of seeing this thing I just saw this shitty little wad of hair. I wouldn’t exactly say I cried, but I will admit that I felt so bad that my eyes got really runny, and felt sad because, you know, I was All-Conference in three sports and I wanted to eventually get a football scholarship to Michigan State or USC, and I had just bought a motorcycle (Kawasaki) and a new stereo (with Bose speakers, MAC amp, and Nakamichi deck), and I had started to shave, and all my friends were friends because I was a guy, and who the fuck but a girl would ever want to be a girl except a homo and I am not a homo! That’s a fact. Even though I had a pussy I was not a queer! I hate that and I hated it then and I will hate it all of my life, and I looked up "homosexuality" in the dictionary and in a bunch of other books, and having a vagina doesn’t make you a homosexual. Liking guys makes you a homosexual, but you have to like them so much that they are like girls to you (and that is a requirement), and I didn’t so I wasn’t a homo, I swear to God.
Well, anyway, there I was. I had this pussy and I was feeling real pissed off because I thought my life was over. Then it occurred to me: like, there was a girl’s thing only about a foot and a half from my eyes and only about two inches from my hand, you know. So I figured that it’s not every day that a guy my age gets to look at an actual living girl’s thing, and as long as I wanted to in the daylight and do to it whatever stuff I wanted to do to it, it was O.K., you know? So I sort of "forgot" about how I was freaking out and I opened the thing up and took a peek.
I never saw one in the light. I only felt them in the dark, and, of course, I saw a few hundred in magazines, you now, but never one in the light that was a 3-D one. It was quite a shock to see how big it was. I measured it with a sheet of notebook paper, which is eight-and-one-half inches wide, and it was almost as long as the whole sheet of paper was wide from the top of the hair down to the edge of the butt. A vagina is not like a dick, you know. A dick is just a thing, which is a stick with two balls, and that’s it and it’s real simple. But a vagina is a whole bunch of stuff all crammed in there and buried in a whole bunch of skin and called a vagina although, according to my dictionary, the vagina is only the actual hole part.
Starting at the top, which was the closest part to me and which was just a lot of hair: it was a nice V shape and it didn’t spread out all over and become leg hair, like on a guy. It was pretty soft hair, soft of like camel’s hair sport coat material only longer and curlier, and sort of darkish-brownish blond. You know how guys’ hairs are really weirded-out, you know, all twisted up and strange? Girls’ hairs are perfect and cool.
O.K., so then I moved down to the middle part and I poked around in there and I found the beginning of the inside skin part. Do you know that the Mississippi River is so small up in Minnesota, where it starts, that you can step over it? That’s sort of like the same with a vagina. It’s very small at the top and then it gets big and complicated. Where I had my thumb was like the "source" and it was just the beginning, and there weren’t any holes or flaps or anything. Just a small curve.
Then all the skin started. Boy, is there ever a lot of skin! There is probably enough extra skin down there to make a whole face. It’s all tucked in and wrinkled up, and at first, it doesn’t make any sense. It just looks like somebody got it drunk and just mushed everything in there. That skin is soft of two-tone. It’s fleshish/pinkish outside and then when you get inside it’s redder, like inside-the-mouth skin, and it is very soft and sticky. And it get stickier the closer you get to the hole, and then it’s just "wet." It also can be, like, "molded," and I made a bird shape out of the real long flaps that sort of hang out.
Anyhow, it’s all defined into things called, I think, lips, and I think there are about four sets of them, although I’m not sure because they are all attached to each other. Inside all those lips is the actual hole. I’m not sure what all that skin is for except maybe for "show" because, who knows, when we were cavemen maybe guys thought all that stuff looked cool. But anyway, the hole itself isn’t even just a hole. Like, it has lots of ridges and bumps and stuff in it, and it’s not really a hole like a hole in the ground is a hole—it’s more like an opening because it’s sort of closed up, and it moves around and opens up and closes; like if you cough, it shuts and if you yawn, it opens up.
It was as deep as a Little League trophy and it stretched, too. So, like, it fit a Magic Marker, and it also stretched big enough to hold a Polaris submarine model. There is a lump up at the end of the hole, and I don’t know what it is exactly because it’s awful dark in there, even if you take the mirror off your desk and lay it on the floor and squat over it and shine a great big hunter’s flashlight up there. But I guess it’s just all that reproduction stuff that girls have.
Also, another kind of gross thing about a vagina is that it smells kind of bad. Pardon me for being kind of sickening, but it’s true. I smelled on before on my old girl friend and then it smelled O.K., but I think that when you are a guy and you are real hot and with a girl and you are kissing and feeling and all that, I think your nose gets confused, and a vagina doesn’t smell bad at all—in fact, it smells pretty cool in a kind of gross way. But when you are just a guy and you are by yourself, your vagina reeks. They must all do that because there seems to be a lot of those antiperspirant deodorant sprays for females over by the Kotexes at the grocery store.
The other important thing about the vagina was that I located that "little thing." It is so small that you can hardly see it! Which is ridiculous because, man, there’s a lot of room down there for all kinds of stuff that doesn’t even have anything to do with sex. This "little thing" was about as big as the pusher-inner thing on a ball-point pen—it’s that tiny! So that may be why girls are not all that crazy about sex, not like guys are. But anyway, besides being so tiny, it’s also buried in a wad of skin. I had to uncover it to get to the good part, and it’s really good because it’s so sensitive that when I touched it I got a huge shiver! I was a sex shiver, but I think it was also a go-to-the-bathroom shiver because I had to whizz like crazy!
"Holding it in" when you are a girl is hard because, where are the hold-it muscles? In a guy they are back near your rear end. So I had to get to the bathroom pretty fast since I didn’t know how to use that thing. I was very glad that my mom and my dad and my sisters were gone, because my sister was in a figure skating thing so I didn’t have to worry about anybody seeing me, which was one good thing so far.
By having two sisters and a mom, you know, I knew a little bit about how girls go to the bathroom, and, I know, thank God, that you better sit down because you don’t have anything to point. You just have a little hole, and if you stand up, believe me, it won’t work very well; in fact, it will be a huge mess. Sitting down is the stupidest way in the world to take a leak. It’s over so fast you don’t have time to read or anything, and like, what do you do with your hands? Another thing about sitting down is that you get everything wet and you have to waste a lot of toilet paper.
Also a vagina makes a rude sound when you use it to go to the bathroom. It’s like this—fiiiiiiiissssssss, fiss, fiss, fiiiiiiiissssssss. It’s a typical girl’s sound, real high and dainty and gross. Well, after getting the go-to-the-bathroom business out of the way, I decided to have a look at myself in the big mirror on the back of the door and look at my whole body. I took off my pajama bottoms and then my top and then I got more bad news!
I had two tits! Shit! What a fucking pain in the ass this whole thing was turning into—next thing I knew I would be down in the basement doing a load of laundry with my mom! Well, at least nobody in my family except my Grandma Jessie, who had torpedo tits but is dead now, has large tits, so I was flat like my mom and sisters. But…I had big brown nipples. I wouldn’t have anything to do with the girls who had brown nipples myself. I personally consider that a deformity and if I ever found out that my wife had them I would get a divorce. Plus, they were huge and lopsided! So, not only did I get screwed by having tits in the first place, but I also got screwed by having gross ones. Just my luck!
I looked at myself and it was weird. I had muscular-type arms (with the kind of veins that stick out from working out with weights) and hairy pits like normal and good shoulders and neck, and then these smallish tits with big nipples, and a belly button and good stomach ripples and no hair on my check below my stomach or below my belly button, and then…the vagina. My legs were slimmer than they used to be, I think. When I turned around and looked at my butt it was real neat. I kind of liked it. It was real round and, well, it was pink and cute and there wasn’t any hair on it and it was just…cute. It was a girl’s cute little butt.
Anyway, you know, that got boring real fast, just looking in the mirror, so I kind of walked back to my room and I looked around to see if I walked like a girl does and I did, sort of. Then I went into my room. Then what I did was…well, I think, but I’m not sure, what I think I did was what would still be considered "jacking off." It felt pretty good and I had an "orgasm," but I wasn’t doing it just to jack off. It was more like an experiment that kind of turned into jacking off, only with a girl’s vagina it’s more like "rubbing off" because there’s nothing to jack.
What I did at first was pretend my hand was me and my vagina was this girl friend I used to have so I could sort of see what it was like for her what I did to her when we were on dates and once at her parents’ cottage up north. I think it must have felt lousy because what I did seemed like it had been good, but it wasn’t at all. It doesn’t feel that great to have somebody shoving their finger in and out of you real fast, and it doesn’t feel good at all to get your breasts squeezed and pinched. What does feel good is just old-fashioned rubbing down there. You don’t have to fool around with the hole at all because it doesn’t have hardly any nerves, so don’t waste your time. I know, because later on I tried a lot of stuff, like carrots and candles and hot dogs and breakfast links and one of those toilet paper holder things and rolled up Cliff Notes (Brave New World) and bananas and a cucumber and a hairbrush handle and even an old GI Joe’s head, and none of them made me have an orgasm. The hole is just for "intercourse" with men.
So, I was rubbing away and then, all of a sudden, I hit the jackpot, and my legs started jumping around and my hips started going back and forth automatically and there was this tremendous tickle feeling up my butt and then zing! It was over, but then another one started coming. Zing! Zing! Zing! Zing! More and more! Note like a guy’s at all! Smaller, but tons and tons of them! Guys’ are over right away and that’s the end of it, and you don’t ever want to do it again in your whole life and you feel like a slob and girls are revolting to think about and you want to just burn the magazine you were looking at, you know. But not with a vagina! You can keep going and going and going and there isn’t even any mess to clean up. All the messy stuff goes on inside. Also no "hard-on" is required, you know. You’re ready to do it any time of the day or the night—it’s really pretty cool. And there is no way for anybody to tell that you did it because there’s nothing to poke out of your pajamas. Finally, I had to stop because all that feeling good was starting to feel bad, and I was getting sort of afraid that I might have a heart attack or something. When I looked at the clock, I couldn’t believe it! I had been masturbating that thing for almost three hours and, boy, was it sore!
Also, it was almost time to go to my swim meet, which was real important, and I would be in a lot of trouble if I missed it, and I’d let down all the guys on the team and they’d be pissed off. So I washed my hands about fifty times until they smelled like hands again, and then I got dressed. But my shirt scratched up my nipples and my underpants didn’t fit because there wasn’t a guy’s "thing" to fill it up right. I figured I better wear a bra or I might make my tits bleed or something, or I could get cancer or who knows, I sure didn’t!
It was really creepy and weird to be going through my sister’s underpants and bras and boyfriends’ letters drawer looking for a bra to wear. There were a whole bunch of them, so I picked out the lightest-weight one that wouldn’t show the most, and it was one of those real thin ones and it was O.K. except, how do you put it on? They are real easy to fasten and unfasten when you are holding them in your hand, but when you put them on and put your bosoms in the holders you can’t reach behind you far enough to fasten them, which I think is stupid unless women have longer arms and narrower backs. I tried and tried and it was no use, so finally I just had to fasten it, then lay it on the floor, and then step into it and pull it up over my legs and my hips and my stomach and then my chest, and then stick my bosoms in. But that kind of stretched it out and tore it a little in the middle between the holders. Boy, what a pain!
I decided that I may as well take a pair of underpants as long as I was in her drawer and feeling creepy anyway. At first, I didn’t think I would wear any underpants at all, but if you have a vagina you have to wear underpants because those things leak all the time. I found a nice pair of red ones with a little kitten sewed on the butt. They were real soft and smooth and silky and cool, and they were much better than guys’ underpants, and I thought it’s too bad that guys don’t get a chance to appreciate really nice underwear, except I guess if guys wore this kind of underwear they’d just spend too much time thinking about how good their underpants felt and they wouldn’t get their work done and they’d get fired. By the way, if I had had my regular guy’s "thing," I would have gotten a hard-on when I looked at myself in my sister’s mirror, because without my arms and my head and my feet I was a pretty cool-looking girl.
So I was all ready to go and I went out to the garage to get my motorcycle. I had a lot of trouble just holding it up, and kicking it over was almost impossible for me because I was just weaker, it seemed, than I was before, and I didn’t know if it was because I spent so much time masturbating the vagina, or that I didn’t eat breakfast, or that maybe I was losing my muscles as part of the deal getting a vagina in the first place.
But after I got it going I had another problem. I was sitting right on top of my "little thing" and the motorcycle was vibrating. That made me have more orgasms, and I just sat there and revved the engine for about ten minutes enjoying it until I was afraid that it would blow up. Then I had to ride, and it’s pretty dangerous to drive a motorcycle when you are having non-stop orgasms, especially making a left-hand turn when you are moaning and your hips are moving automatically. I almost creamed myself by running into a truck because I didn’t want to let up on the gas since the vibrations were just perfect. It is no surprise to me why there aren’t any girls motorcycle gangs or motorcycle cops. I made it to school, but almost not, and my bottom was soaking wet.
I had two problems with the swim meet. Actually, I had three, but number three was the problem of changing into my bathing suit in front of the other guys (and that problem went away because I was late because I went around the parking lot a couple of extra times to finish off my last orgasm). The other two problems were hiding my tits and not having a lump to make it look like I had my regular guy’s "thing" when I put on my bathing suit. We wear little thin bathing suits and your thing shows a lot, so to not have your thing show would make people suspicious, and the last thing I needed was to have the whole school know about my vagina, so I put a sock in there, took off my bra, and put my shirt back on and wore it into the pool area and didn’t take it off—and that covered up my tits.
The coach was pissed, but I was in the next race they were just about to start so he couldn’t be pissed at me for too long. Anyway, I walked over to the edge of the pool and bent over like I was going to dive in with my arms in front of me, and I took off the shirt and I sort of tossed it to the side (but close enough so I could get it when the race was over), and I just stayed in that tucked position so that no one would see my tits or my brown nipples. Except that this dipshit guy from the other school took forever to get ready, and I must have looked like a real jerk being all tucked under and ready to begin the race three or four minutes before we started. Then when we started the race I was so stiff I could hardly keep up, but that was my smallest problem as it turned out.
When I hit that warm water something happened to my stomach and it started to hurt, and when I got to the end of the pool the coach was waving his arms like crazy, and when I finished going into my first turn I saw what he was waving at! It was red and it was a big cloud in the water and—guess what—it was coming out of me. I had my period!
Holy shit! I wanted to drown! I was treading water with my period and my tits and my vagina, and about 100 people were all watching me! Somehow I had enough brains at the time to swim over to where my shirt was and I covered my tits, and the coach came running over and he was real concerned. I told him I had an infected pimple on my groin and that it was bleeding, and he got kind of mad at me for not telling him because of the dangers of spreading infection and all that crap. Then he said to go get dressed and see my family doctor and not to get blood poisoning.
I was so glad to get out of there! But I wasn’t that glad because I still had my period an I had a long way to go to get home. But after just a couple of minutes I knew I would never make it home unless I did something that was so horrible and embarrassing that I almost didn’t do it.
Do you know what it’s like to go into a girls bathroom when you are not a girl? It’s awful, but where else can a guy get a Kotex? I hurried down the hall as fast as I could with a whole towel stuffed in my pants. I went across the hall and through the cafeteria to the girls’ bathroom way over by the music room where there wouldn’t be anybody, and there wasn’t anybody so I was happy about that.
There were two machines in there. One for Kotexes and the other was for Tampaxes. I didn’t know anything about that stuff (my only experience with female hygiene was filling up a sink and soaking them to see how big they get), and I didn’t know what to do then, but I bought one of each. They were only ten cents apiece, which was pretty cheap. I am not a moron, it’s just that when a guy gets his period he’s really out of it because that period stuff isn’t taught to guys, and girls don’t talk about it. It’s one of the "female mysteries." Even the fat, ugly girls don’t tell you anything about it. But then, how many guys ever think they’re going to get their period?
Anyway, I know that the object of a Kotex is to soak up stuff, and so it has to go in the hole. And that also is the object of a Tampax, which is much, much smaller than a Kotex and is shaped a little different but is made out of the same stuff and smells like toilet paper, too. So it was obvious that the Kotex must go in the vagina hole because that hold was the biggest of the holes down there, and the Tampax must go in the rear end because it was smaller. The third hole is for taking a leak, but it’s so tiny that I don’t know what you could shove up there, and I never saw a commercial for anything smaller than a Tampax so I just left it alone.
Now I know why there are couches in girls’ bathrooms. You need them to lay down on to get the Kotex in your vagina and the Tampax in your butt. A Kotex, you know, is about as big as half a box of Kleenex, and it doesn’t slide too well. But anyway, after shoving for about ten minutes I got most of it up there. Getting the Tampax in my ass was a little easier but it hurt more.
So there I was with this giant wad of stuff in my vagina and another wad in my rear end. I guessed it was all fixed up, but it sure was hard to walk normal with all that crap in my holes. No wonder women get so crabby when they get their periods. I was pretty crabby myself about having to go through all that, and I felt real sorry for all the girls and I also felt pissed off at the female period supply companies for making their products too big and too hard to put in and not slippery enough.
Anyway, I got home and everything, and by about 4:00 my period stopped and I took a bubble bath. My parents came home about 5:00. It was real weird being around my dad when I had a vagina. But it wasn’t so weird around my mom, and I helped her cook dinner, which was fun. I made the frozen peas and mashed up the potatoes and I did really good, and it wasn’t boring or anything, which was neat.
During dinner I got a phone call. It was my best friend, Dan. He asked how my groin, which was bleeding at the swim meet, was and I said it was O.K. and it was just nothing and it was all gone away, and he asked if I was still going to go with him and Jeff and Steve and Steve’s cousin, who goes to junior college, and I said no, and he got pissed off because before I said I would and I said no again, and he asked why not, but I couldn’t tell him the real reason why so I said O.K. and he said, "Great! We’re going to get high and look for girls."
I finished dinner, and my sister Kristen, gave me a whole bunch of shit about hogging the bathroom and leaving hair in the sink, and I started to cry and my mom told Kristen to shut up, and I went upstairs to steal another pair of her underpants, because the other ones were buried in the back yard along with my pants. By the way, don’t flush Kotexes down the toilet, because they back it up, which is what happened in our downstairs bathroom, and there was a big fight between my dad and my younger sister, Mandy, who is thirteen, for flushing Kotex, and she screamed, "I don’t have my time of the month, it’s Kristen!" And Kristen screamed back, but louder because she is nineteen and really an asshole, "I don’t even use Kotex, you little shit!" That earned her no car for two weeks, and finally my old man got so embarrassed listening to his daughters fight about periods that he left and said he was going to the hardware store to buy some washers for his sailboat. Boy, what would he have done if he knew it was my Kotex that caused the trouble?
I was not in love with the idea of going out with all those guys, but at about 8:00 they showed up, and while I took one last look at my face and hair and checked to see if there was anything up my nose, the guys joked around downstairs with my dad. Finally, my dad got sick of them and yelled at me to come down, and I did.
I was the last guy to be picked up so I had to sit in the back seat in the middle, which is not a great place to sit. I had Steve on one side of me and Steve’s cousin, who goes to junior college, Jim, on the other side. Up in front Dan was driving and Jeff was shotgunned, and there was a case of Stroh’s beer in the middle. We smoked some joints and drank and talked and listened to Ace Frehley’s solo album (he is the guy who plays lead for KISS), which I used to love but suddenly did not love anymore, and I think I would have rather listened to Fleetwood Mac or Chuck Mangione or the Bee Gees, but even though I didn’t like the music, I still sort of sang along with it like my sisters do. Jim told me to shut up. It hurt my feelings real bad, and I almost wanted to cry.
I was real quiet (except for singing that time) because my vagina was sort of pulsating and throbbing. I think it was doing that because of the Kotex being up there before, and also my butt was in pain. Everybody wanted to know why I was so quiet and I said I didn’t feel too good. I you ever want a bunch of guys my age to leave you alone, don’t tell them you don’t feel too good, because if they know that something is wrong they will attack you and take advantage of you and try to make you feel worse, which is just what Jeff did when he turned around in the seat and looked right at my face and said, "Ass Patrol on alert!" "Alright!" Dan shouted. And I freaked out inside.
Ass Patrol is the same as mooning, and mooning is hanging your ass out of a car window, and I couldn’t hang my ass out of the window because (a) I was wearing my sister’s underpants, and (b) the vagina was right in front of my ass. "It’s your turn, Larry," Dan said. "Flash flesh."
"I can’t," I said. "I have a cold."
No matter how much I said no they said yes, and they would have pulled my pants down and shoved my ass out (they were so drunk and high), and the dangerous part about that is when you are going sixty-five miles an hour and a bunch of drunk guys are trying to get your butt out the window, you can fall out and die or get into a crash and have to die with your pants down and have people laugh at you for the rest of your life—and even laugh louder when you have a vagina! So I said I would do it then. On top of everything terrible that had happened, Steve’s cousin said, "Why don’t we moon the drive-in window at the Burger King?"
Everybody thought that was the coolest thing they ever heard, and we turned around and headed back for the Burger King. One good thing was that it gave me time to figure out how to put my ass out without revealing my sister’s underpants or the vagina and also to get my pants ready so that I could do it quickly and get it over with. Except everything got fucked up because Dan was too busy trying to watch and not busy enough driving, and he crashed into the Burger King and I flew forward into the front seat and I hit my head on the ashtray. I knew I was in big trouble because I could see four faces staring at the beaver I was flashing.
"It’s a cunt!"
"Larry’s got a cunt!"
I didn’t do anything except almost shit in my pants, which were down by my knees. And do you know what else? All the people who worked at the Burger King were crowded in the window looking at my vagina. I think they must have thought I was a girl but still, shit, that’s super embarrassing! Dan suddenly got smart and saw that he was going to get into trouble for hitting a Burger King, so he pulled out into the street and swerved to miss a car and we were gone.
"Far out!" Steve said.
"It’s incredible, look at it!"
I just laid there, mainly because of the position I was in I couldn’t do anything else. My head was down on the floor and my back was on the beer and my legs were hanging over the back seat, and there was a guy on either side of me and two guys in the back about a foot from my vagina, just staring like morons. Then the guy from junior college reached out and touched it.
"Get out of there!" I screamed!
"Where’s your dork?" Jeff asked me.
"What’s happened to you?" Dan said.
Then the guy from junior college tried to open my legs up, and I kicked him but he just started laughing like an animal and then he made me faint when he said, "Let’s fuck Larry!"
Oh, God! I was in deep-shit trouble!
When I woke up, the car was parked at the golf course and my pants were completely off. I tried to get up but no one would help me.
"You can’t fuck me!" I said. "I am a guy!"
That sort of slowed them down, and they were all quiet for a minute and then Dan said that I was right. But then Jeff said, "If he’s a guy, what’s he doing with that!"
"You know what?" Steve said, like he suddenly figured out what was going on but he really didn’t, "Larry’s a girl who’s been pretending to be a guy and has always been girl!"
"I have not," I said. "You guys have seen my…"
Nope, I never had gym with any of those guys and as far as I knew they never saw my "thing" out in the open, and it didn’t make any difference because they were so drunk and high that I think I could have been a zebra and they wouldn’t have known it.
"I don’t want to take any chances on being a homo," Dan said.
"It’s a vagina, dumb shit!" Jeff said.
"You can’t be a homo if it’s a vagina."
"Yeah," Dan said, "I guess so."
"Let’s do it," Steve said.
"Is it O.K. with you, Larry?"
"No!" I screamed!
I was scared shit and I was struggling like crazy and normally I could have whipped those guys in about one and a half minutes, but I just didn’t have any muscles left. I have to admit this and it’s really gross and disgusting and horrible and a nightmare but…my friends all fucked me.
Everything worked out O.K., I guess. I never talked to those guys again and they never talked to me, either, and then my Dad got transferred to California and we moved there in the summer, so I don’t know what happened to them, except I heard that Steve’s cousin joined the navy and got thrown out for setting fire to a guy’s bed. The vagina went away after a few months. The "little thing" just got bigger and bigger until one day it was my regular guy’s thing again. It doesn’t bother me any more that I had the vagina. I mean, it didn’t make me insane or anything. I guess the worst thing that happened was that I had to use up most of my money I was saving for new skis and waste my Easter vacation having to get an abortion.
THE ENDI found these of all places on the Transgender Graphics and Fiction Archive of all places. Google works wonders. WILLIBOY, I still have not found the Thanksgiving one yet, but I am still looking.