Garlic gravy? Fuck that

Awhile back someone, if memory serves, it was either Teagan or Natasha - I forget which, and I'm not so sure it matters, belittled a tale I told in the midst of a heated argument. The argument was about "real womanhood"; whomever took the expected stance that I was not a real woman, a mere "tranny", and hence undeserving of any respect and I took to belligerence and pointed refutation. It was a tale of long ago rape. It's notable only because it's been thrice denigrated (once by such a luminary as Queen Emily of Questioning Transphobia "fame"); a tale that has been deprecated so often has to be either sordid or despicable. I don't think it occurred to my critics that it might be both.

In the midst of my nightmares, I've had reason to revisit that rape. I have no idea why. I'm not sure I care.

I've often thought it "interesting" that two parties found me cute enough to fuck; the bastard that lived next door and the esteemed, and a fortuitously erstwhile local religious leader and scout master. The fuckers who lived next door figured out "my secret". (I'm sure it wasn't difficult; I was 7.) It's why, beyond the obvious bad taste, I still cringe at those "I'm a little girl!" transgendered individuals. (Truth be told, those people influenced me enough to state that "transgender porn is the absolute objectification of women".)

In my nightmares I revisit those missing moments - the ones my mind doesn't care to remember. The Scoutmaster getting me out of that Matlock bed, quietly, lest we wake the other boys. He would never say "lest", of course; it was beyond his ken. The neighbor's wife, playing with me, delighted alarm that an erect boy was wearing a pretty dress. Me, secretly delighted to be wearing the frock but dreading what came next. Fuck, do I remember those moments. I'll not write of them - some fucking prick would take them and turn them into a FictionMania porn show. (FictionMania is a fuckup of a site that specializes in "trans" porn. Budding "writers" get their wanks in fantasizing about "trans" incidents. The site has fiction categories for "man to schoolgirl; forced feminization; "my girlfriend forced me to dress up!" and so on. Raping the "new girl" isn't frowned upon - I believe there's a category for that, too.)

...

It's useful to know the questions to which you want the answers. There isn't an answer to "Why me?" Because the rapist liked the way I looked, or knew I was vulnerable, or knew I wanted to be a girl and would do whatever he fucking could to turn me into his?

You know the really sad part of this? I got drunk, years later, with the fucker who arranged the fuck. It wasn't enough that we lived next door; the filming required some time - that had to be arranged. There was one fucker who, years later, while getting drunk on my dime, admitted to being the person who figured it all out. He had, I gather, considerable experience in such matters. (Yes, the rape was filmed; it's probably floating around the internet even now - after all, how many boys can be found that will wear a pretty white dress while being fondled by the rapists wife?)

...

The negative ain't my thing. I hate the despair of negativity; I fuckin' grew up with it. The glass is half full? Fuck that. "You" can't even count the measures. Well, fuck that. I can count the measures. My glass is overflowing. Nightmares can't hurt me. All they do is wake me up. The rest is just fuckin' garlic gravy.

Carolyn Ann