Modest Sexuality

The internet is for porn.

Grab yor dick and dubble click FOHR PORN PORN PORN!

Even in the TG enthusiasts’ little corner of the internet, it all comes back to porn. No matter the focus on gender transformations, it almost always eventually comes to revolve around sex of some sort. Though, I guess, this is a fetish, and fetishes are bred from sex, and the appeal attached to them are sexual in nature, so I suppose it’s only natural that would be the focus. As such, I would be the impractical one here, but like fuck is that going to keep me from complaining.

I’ve been wanting to write an entry about this topic for some time, because I believe this aspect, which I have come to call Modest Sexuality (after the great psychosexologist, Modest Mouse), is what distinguishes me from most other people who share my interests, and who share my internet haunts. It’s the reason why, no matter how adept I become at navigating the primal jungles of Fictionmania by fine tuning my searches and keeping a discriminating eye on story descriptions I still can’t get no satisfaction I can’t get no satisfaction ‘cause I try and I try and I try and I try I can’t get no I can’t get no!

Stones mouth: one of the most prevalent symptoms of can’t get no satisfactioning (along with Jagger Hair)

Seeing how the Olympics are currently in progress in London (or on the moon, depending on how long I take to finish up this entry and publish it), I’m going to use that as an example. Now we all know what the Olympics are for: bringing together the nations of the world in the spirit of love and unity and squeezing international nubile hotties in perfect shape into tiny volleyball shorts. Observe the aforementioned example:

For those of you whose attention hasn't drifted, I think just about everybody can agree that the beach volleyball “uniform”, being just a bikini, is the single sexiest sport uniform ever. Hell, it’s probably the only reason beach volleyball exists. The only thing that would make it sexier is if it were even skimpier! And, of course, the best uniform of all would be complete nekkedness, of course! In fact, fuck clothes! In a perfect world, every hot female would be naked at all times. And, of course, this is a universal ideal for all heterosexual men. If anybody disagrees, raise your hand so I can shoot you lest you impede our progress toward a bare-boobed world.

I am currently raising my hand, by the way. Maybe I’ll shoot myself later, once I’m done ranting.

Ever since I saw my first Olympics in 2004 at the age of 13, I acquired a profound enticement with one of the female uniforms that lasts to this day. But what? There’s nothing in the Olympics that shows more skin than the beach volleyball bikinis, and therefore, by definition, nothing could possibly be sexier!

It was the gymnastics leotards that enamored me. And even, though it shows some serious leg (and I do love me some gymnast leg), that wasn’t the only thing to which I paid attention. It was the outfit itself, the colors, the texture, the way in which it clung to the girls’ contours. Then, it hit me. In a world where so many people equate nudity to arousal, where everybody can’t get boobies and vajayjays off their minds: I have a fetish for femininity.

Unlike my sissy friends, (psych, I don't have any friends) my poison isn’t the hyper pink excessively frilly kind of stuff (although I do have a thing for sweet Lolita fashion), but rather, real femininity. The type of femininity that I’ve observed expressed. That which is common in my everyday life. And, of course, the female body is incredibly feminine too, and I’d be lying if I said I had no attraction to it, not to mention sex as a woman must be a very feminine experience. Honestly, though, with the nigh-exclusive focus on it, I think it’s a little old.

Okay, exercise 2: compare these two schoolgirl outfits. Which one would everybody in the world, apart from me, find more attractive? The skimpy one or the frumpy one?

As for me, the outfit on the left offers me just about no sexual attraction. It's too skimpy, so much so that it's comical.It just looks stupid to me. The one on the right, though, that's something I would actually see. Something a real schoolgirl would wear, and that can get my mind running.

 Now don’t get me wrong, I like to indulge myself sometimes. I’m not above fantasizing about being a harem slave girl or a French maid in a ridiculous costume forced to serve, but my primary appetite is just being a normal female. Albeit without the identity death or tainted memories, and while maintaining the nonconsent factor. The kind of girls I dream about being are the ones I see in my everyday life.

Boring? To me, even though these archetypes are commonplace, the actual existence of them unleashes a heavy realism quality onto my fantasies, not to mention the behind-the-scenes enigmas of femininity, and the mystery of what it would be like if it was mine. I think what draws me to it most strongly is external opinion. Not only are you now this girl, but people now see you as her, the same way you saw girls of the like before. It’s even better if the transformee once had a condescending attitude towards the girls whose ranks he’s been forced to join, like airheaded bimbos or teenyboppers.

There’s an amazing scene in The Katy Nightmare where Tony-now-Katy is being driven towards his new school. On the way, he sees some schoolgirls walking along the street, and he just about goes crazy when he realizes he’s now just one of them.

Gooble gobble gooble gobble!

I really don’t know how to explain this, actually, but here’s another example…

In a story I’m pretty sure was called Compulsions (which I can’t seem to find again… did it get deleted?), a man becomes a woman via punishment from his wife/girlfriend/yadda yadda yadda. As a result of this ‘curse’, he’s afflicted by certain compulsions to do feminine things like… and every time he gives in, a supernatural change is wrought over his life, making him more feminine.

Now, I started getting really into this story after a while (the age regression aspect may have had something to do with it, although the failure to notice the transformations detracted from it), as he slowly became a secretary for the company for which he was once a manager, also becoming slightly airheaded and bubbly as an added bonus. With this, her moods started shifting, things like her taste in music becoming typical for the kind of girl she was changing into. That was amazing. That’s the kind of thing I’m looking for. Someone who formerly listened to classical or something now being compelled to listen to the teeny-bopper music synonymous with airheads everywhere?

Or somewhere in between?

And then… the compulsions kept coming. One magical shift later, and she was ducking into her boss’s office every now and then to give him a blowjob or something. Another magical blink and she was the office slut. More than that, a wanton whore who strips naked without a moment’s hesitation amidst a crowd of horny men. I know it’s just a fantasy, but nobody fucking does that. It ruined the story for me.

Okay, okay, I’m aware that I’m in the minority here. This is a fetish. A sexual fantasy, so there’s nothing wrong with taking it to whatever extreme you like. You like imagining being a horny, nymphomaniacal superslut who can’t think about anything other than sex? More power to you. You like fantasizing about crossdressing in frilly sissy dresses? Have fun. I like detailed representations of all aspects of life as a girl. More power to me. In fact, all the power to me. Red Ochre desperately wants more of this.