Band of Gold
n and produced by Brendan Curtis.
An old boy in a sling called Parapleasing69 rocked back and forth on a homemade toy in the apartment block opposite in a thumbnail on the vid screen from our .onlyfan account read out.
144 other people were watching and we were raking it in before we’d even started.
Para was our biggest donator. Ding ding ding, went the read out, as another golden aubergine fell into the holographic cashbag.
‘Ok sweethearts, we’ll get going soon, don’t you worry’ A. said, again checking the activation times of the final dosages.
Our kink was to catch each other, right before the change. Just as the hairs start worming their way in/out of the pores on our chests, as our breaths caught with the sensation of our changing muscle mass, pupils widening with the onslaught of the chemical cascade. That was where we liked to fuck. And it also paid for the .accoms, most of A.’s studies and my terrible addiction to Faberge eggs.
Only joking.
Jamming our fingers inside each other, into the wet gullys of our folds or gripping onto the shafts of our receding dicks... We’d discovered we could inhibit the growth of the new tissue and keep ourselves writhing in the between place. We’d chosen opposite sexes for a long time but a few months ago zhe had opted to synchronise and play with twinning. We’d called our .onlyfan ‘.ASSIGNED FAG AT BIRTH’. And they loved it.
‘Ass like a bao bun’ zhe would say, slapping the tattoo on my cheeks and looking into the camera.
What we had was rare, I thought. We’d always supported each other, respected each other needs and boundaries – dealt together with the reactions of bored confusion or antipathy from the medical community and our estranged bio-families - this showed in ancient lace work of pale harmscars and impulse drawn scarifications on eachother’s torsos.
I kept the bloodied glass from the piece of broken bottle on a little mantlepiece alter. - ‘Never forget’ an old thrift store statuette of two ugly monolothic buildings said. I liked to imagine them as me and A. - standing eternal against the ravages of time.
‘You ready?’
A. bit my lip pressing zheir palm down as hard as zhey could, as the familiar warmth and welling of the home brewed hormone cascade wove collagen, muscle and skin. I did the same. The .greymarket torrent of roids, had been delivered into the groin earlier, as an injection of millions of carefully programmed nanobots - and they were speedy, powerful lil’ bastards!
Dangerous too, risks include, clotting, skin bleaching, malformation, permanent scaring and death. The HR forum said but that was part of the fun, right?
My month old clit was swelling now, and, in successive waves of thickening, doubled and tripled in size in the space of a minute, a larger urethra already beginning to cleave it in two.
A.’s gaze alternated between my eyes and the camera, as we jammed and ground the rough print of our palms down onto the wetness of eachothers fledgling glanses, crushing them into themselves, the sensation rolling back our eyes.
‘How’s that feel? You like that?’
I gasped. My breathing quickening as the fresh stubble on my chin grazed A.’s nose, the aubergines cascading into our simulated cauldron.
Zhe kept zheir callused digits deep inside me, rough fingerprint rubbing against my g-spot – I could feel the skin trying to seal around my vagina, but physically unable to close around zheir fingers - as the tissue of two testes gestated either side, the skin of my labia stretching, engorged, and quivering down into a nascent scrotum.
The little whirring drones zeroed in on the action, as the pressure in my cunt grew in intensity. There was music playing but I couldn’t tell you what it was. We kissed, bit and ground our breasts and the morphing tissue of our d/evolving genitals together as our sweat pooled in the hollow of my pigeon chest.
We would meet each other, once a month in this place of neither/or – It wasn’t about the penetration or the .onlyfans so much as just trying to exist and cum in the weightless, impossible, delicious purgatory of our fluidity and transpassage.
We thought we were fucking pioneers, mavericks and… smart business people …but, really, doing this together was one of the only things that helped – and… one of the only ways I truly felt my self. I lived for the afterglow it gave me that lasted for days afterwards. The new body and the self that came with it.
We would carefully time and plan our programme together – learning, monitoring and sometimes inhibiting our individual bodily systems and quirks, cultivating, then, carefully injecting the timed hormones loads into our anterior pituitary glands.
‘I’m going to cum’
we said simultaneously, laughing, as the sense of pressure in my proto-dick grew almost unbearable and our collective moans got louder. A mix of seminal fluid, squirt and I-don’t-know-what pulsed out from our piss holes the moment we pulled our hands free – and, we jerked, shook and spasmed like two evangelicals, taken by the spirit. The compressed glanses popped out into a phallus and cum roped helplessly from both of our brand new dicks onto our stomachs, to the noise of thousand HD .onlyfan snapshots clicked, and we lay back breathing, growing into and appreciating our new forms.
‘Fuuck.’
Our combined sweat had soaked into the sheets. After a minute or two, Zhey wiped our loads on my grandmother’s fraying ‘Silence=Death’ t-shirt. As I lay on my back, breathing returning almost to normal, A. did the closedown spiel:
‘Thanks for watching lovers. I hope you enjoyed that as much as we did. Y’all have just paid for our aircon and took us out for dinner. Super appreciated! And Para, honey, we know you’re watching, quing – we got your little gift and there’s a pair of our used thongs going straight to your door!’
The little drones fell onto the rug and deactivated, as zhe flopped down on the bed next to me.
‘Fuck, J. I’m pooped… I can’t believe I still have class. That was really, really, really good tho, no?’
‘yeah. It was.’ I said, wiping sweat from my brow.
Suddenly, A.’s face went white:
‘J… my fucking ring!’ and showed me zheir glossy hand. ‘where’s my fucking ring!’
A. always wore a simple, plain brass ring zhe’d found at a local junk market – an inscription inside said ‘yours always’ in fancy cursive. It was a good luck charm and the pale band on zheir finger looked naked and unnatural.
I looked down.
‘Fuck’
It was plain that zheir ring had become stuck inside my developing member.
I laughed nervously as the tissue of my new dick completed inflation into it’s full semi-erect form.
I lifted it up for us to examine further. It was around 4/5 inches but flayed like a heart at the end, with a slit down the middle and drastic right hand bend. The ring inside the rapidly forming tissue had caused the urethra to have two long openings that stretched half way down.
‘For fuuucks sake, A. why didn’t you take it off!.’
‘Are you angry with me?’ zhe asked wrapping zheir arms around my shoulders.
‘No. just...I don’t know if I can piss with this thing and… I dunno how it’ll perform online. What’re people gonna think?.’
‘I’m so sorry, J., I should’ve taken it off..’
A. was late for zheir evening Retrosymbology class, so, with a few swigs of the upmarket DiazaWine, that had been pretty hard to come by, zhey got dressed, kissed me, said sorry again jumped down out the fire escape, leaving me to examine my new member in the mirror… before returning 3 minutes later to collect zheir bag.
‘How the fuck am I meant to piss with this thing!‘ I laughed ‘I have to live with this for a whole month!’
A. kissed me, then got down on zheir knees and licked a drop of urine from the flayed tip of my new organ.
‘I dunno J.. It’s.. kind of hot…I guess you’ll just have to own it!’ zhe said.
I watched zhem running down the escape, and sat on my window ledge, looking out at the never ending building works. Genmod Bamboo scaffolds surrounded yet another new sky-scraping obelisk, supporting a synthetic work force that never really stopped. Early morning traffic clogged the capillaries of the citadel with the subways underneath transporting even more unseen human cargo.
Drizzle began to fall.
I could see the festoons over the market had already been turned pink, white and blue, though it was still a month until the SHAME parade [no kids allowed]. The local alpha phag contingent loved to wear their vintage Polizia uniforms, despite the historical human right abuses. The insipid theme of the Mirror Ball was ‘Plastic Phantastic’ so I’d .shopped out patterns for a freaky rotting corpse-cum-spraynude twins costume and begun fabricating two hideous Elizabethan style wigs.
I felt a strong impulse to mess with the vibe and draw as much attention as possible.
‘Fuck those phags’ I whispered under my breath to the streets.
The plaza, and the area generally, could get pretty dangerous at night time, as local proles, narcs, panhandlers and addicts took advantage of the inebriated crowd, but, on that day 99% of the folx there were after a good gay time.
We spent last years SHAME honouring the dead, lighting a candle in the derelict Starbux church and swallowing a .greymarket .e with our morning congee.
A.’s grandmother had been a big deal. She’d thrown herself in front a .gov calvacade to highlight the injustice against climate migrants just before the first water wars and she’d also been a tru phag icon back up dancing for some of the best stars of her time. And so – a small plaque with her and her girlfriend’s names lay just about readable on the mossy wall of a piss soaked methbar called the Watering Hole.
‘She’d have hated the music’ I’d said, after A.pointed it out on our first or second date - zheir strong arms visible through the mesh covering ‘let’s go in for a drink’, zhey said.
We tried not to think about the brutal past – the blood on the rungs of the ladders of our ancestors had been forced to climb – the short hate filled lives they’d struggled through, ideologies, poverties, bigots, a life without U.B.I and the bitter pills they’d been forced to swallow by the neo-fascist state.
‘Some people still live that way, you know? I think we’re pretty fucking lucky.’ I’d said to A. holding zheir hand underneath the table.
If trawling through the blog archives in latter 21st century histo.nalyis had taught us anything – it was to live for the now. Every time I buckled under the 4th orgasmic wave… I knew we were honouring our ancestors with every webcam fuckfest.
This kind of gender play was nothing new, really – but the use of gen.tech made it more than slightly illegal. A. had snagged the nanobots from the clinic zhey interned in and paid a gutterboy who worked into the back of a ramen shop to engineer the biomods and integrate the 8chan pirated techhacks.
If it wasn’t for the dwindling cult of bioessentialists, then the Union would deregulate the mods and A. would have a thriving career – ‘Not in our life time!’ zhey would say refilling zheir vape.
We did not adapt the genetically extrapolated genital forms into the variform .bodmod gennys that some did – sporting pierced multidicks, ribbed vulvas or puckered purple corals of fringed scrotal tissue at the thumping .pnp parties near the docks. Currently, all of that was just cosmetic, and, though cool or beautiful, for a post-gender studies .photog assignment, the bioimprinting was not yet complex enough to generate sophisticated nervous architecture and animate the polymorphic franken-gennys with actual feeling. The complex and alien orgasms their appearance suggested were simply not possible.. and the feeling was important to us.
Growing up intersex, we’d felt entitled to augment and explore ourselves as many of us had been non-consensually in the past. Non-binary i.d as continual flux was well understood by any doctor with half a sarah bellum but…we craved experimentation, progress and the ability to follow our joy - wherever it took us. We needed freedom and autonomy.
We sat eating in a graffiti’d stall at one of the .hummus.cafés that seemed now to be on every corner. The tired, tattooed waiter dumped bowls of blue corn tortilla chips, salsa and thaistyle crickets onto the table.
I tore a tortilla in two and said: ‘I admit, it presents some intriguing new possibilities… but ...my dick better be right by SHAME, A. or your ass is getting flogged in public.’
A. took down zheir smog mask and grinned stupidly: ‘You want to know why I still had the ring on, J?’
‘You forgot because you permanently destroyed your developing brain by inhaling too many fumes when you were a young adult?’
‘No, sweetheart…I was gunna ask you to marry me?’ zhey said, laughing loudly, ripping the inedible mouthparts off a female with zheir teeth and spitting them expertly into my glass.
‘Real funny. Maybe we can get Para69 to officiate.’
