#( ;; inner speculation goes hard and hits harder. )

[artificialqueens]

Same Parts (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Of Lovers, Friends and Everything in Between. Part 3.- New Outfit

Title: Same Parts. Category: M/M Summary: He’s lickin’ his lips. His back on the wall. My ass on his d-d-d. Notes: This was actually the first story I wrote for the challenge, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into lol Quick reminder, female pronouns are used once they get in drag. Enjoy! -Monkey Written: Sept 29th, 2019

Same Parts

Trixie Mattel is done for the night.

All the elements that compose her have been haphazardly thrown into the suitcase that Brian now pulls across the driveway. The wheels jump with the cracks on the pavement, making the task harder than it should be. All he wants to do is get home, to reach the confinements of his house and forget all about the horrible night he just had.

It’s cold, or at least as cold as a California night can get. The wind has picked up and is now biting at his cheeks, making the path from the sidewalk –where the Uber has dropped him off– to the front door seem longer than usual. His nose is surely turning red as he fumbles with his keys. The ring is full, too full. He’s been meaning to purge it for the longest time, yet, every time he even starts thinking about it, he reasons that all the important pieces of metal are there for a reason. He goes through them, one by one, recognizing the different colors and brands; mentally pronouncing where they belong to until he’s able to remove the lock and push the heavy piece of wood open.

The smell of baking goods is the first thing that greets him. He can’t remember when was the last time the oven was used in that house. It’s probably the aroma of pancakes that reaches his nostrils, he concludes after a couple sniffs. The stink of cigarettes mixes with the food. All the lights are on, bathing the hallways with brightness, as Lana del Rey’s voice travels through them loudly. He won’t even try to guess the title of the song, they all sound the same to him. One thing he doesn’t have to speculate about, all those signs let him know that he is home.

“Brian!” He calls from his spot by the door. He’s in no mood of going around the place looking for him, not when his feet hurt from standing in heels all night; not when his muscles feel sore from all the dancing he was forced into. Yet, there is no answer.

For a moment, he considers just going upstairs and getting in the shower. His arrival will eventually be noticed. The inner debate is still going as he removes his jacket and scarf, leaving them on the little hooks by the door. Maybe he should check the kitchen, if nobody is there then he will find his way to the bedroom and wait there. Deep down, Brian knows all the baking and music blasting are activities to kill time until he returns home. It would be rude to go straight to bed without at least informing him he’s back.

Lana is by now singing something different, a faster tempo to accompany the same haunting voice. Then comes an unbelievably pitchy shout, which is probably a failed attempt to follow the lyrics.

He makes the last turn to enter the kitchen and that’s where he finds him, he finds her. The padded ass is up in the air as the whole torso disappears inside the fridge, taking too long to find something that is most likely right there. Brian doesn’t mind. He’s enjoying the view of the red thong shimmying in rhythm with the music, illuminated by the flourescent light of the refrigerator.

“Hey, Brian,” he tries once more, a little lower this time.

There’s a loud bang, followed by a grunt, before the full fantasy of Katya emerges from the fridge.

“Oh, hi!” Katya says, her hand rubbing the back of her head, the blonde curls of the wig going up and down to the movement. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Her heels click-clack on the tiles of the kitchen as she makes her way to him. Red lips are pressed against his stained ones a little too quickly. Brian closes his eyes and chases after her, provoking a low laugh from her. She complies. Walking directly into his space, she crosses her arms around his neck and pushes her perfectly sculpted body against his.

She kisses him a couple of times. Small pecks that barely allow any contact of their lips. Brian groans in frustration and she smiles against his lips, enjoying the power she already has on him.

“How was the gig?” Her question is simple, he should be able to answer it without a problem, but he’s distracted. Her fingers rubbing against his cheeks, probably trying to remove the remainings of his heavy make up, make it hard to concentrate.

He pulls her for a hug, feeling the need to be closer to her and recharge with her energy. He sighs into her neck. “It was horrible. All those baby queens have no idea what they are doing.” A strand of hair hits his lips and he blows the plastic away from his face. “Why can’t I just always work with you?” he whines. His open palms land on her waist, compressed by the red corset. “What is this, by the way?”

The wheezing that follows sounds a lot louder when she’s delivering it right into Brian’s ear. She pushes him back, needing space to bend over in laughter. Her eyes fall shut and her mouth falls open. Then, there’s no sound leaving her body, but she’s still shaking with amusement.

“I-I… I completely forgot!” Her hands squeeze his arm tightly, trying to physically transmit the hilarity of the situation. “I forgot I was in full drag,” she finally says a little calmer. “I just finished stoning this.” There’s a little turn to show off her handywork. The restraining garment shining bright as tiny stones catch the light. “I tried it on, but it didn’t look right without the shoes, and to wear shoes I needed tights, and the tights don’t fit without padding…” her hand waves in the air, indicating he should know where her rambling is going. He does.

“This makes me feel like a biological woahman.” Her hands rub down her crotch, in that exaggerated manner that is meant to be sexy. She looks goofy more than anything else.

Brian inspects the piece of clothing with detail. She’s really good at what she does. Katya is, most likely, the best drag queen he’s ever met, and he’s not afraid to admit it. She can be hot and sexy, but also funny and intelligent. There’s nothing about her that he doesn’t like, or at least not when she’s nothing but round hips and small waist, when she’s covered in nothing but a bra, a thong, and the brand new corset.

“See something you like?” The red lips turn into a kinky smirk, and just then does he realize he’s licking his lips with desire.

He wants her, he wants her so bad. He wants to see the wig bobbing as she sucks him off. He wants to see red nails digging into his flesh. He wants to have lipstick stains all across his chest, and stomach, and… He has to stop himself. He’s tired and aggravated, and doesn’t feel like starting something he won’t be able to see through.

His head is nodding before he can finish his train of thoughts. His body is answering her question without asking him permission to do so.

“Just remember, baby, what you see…” she starts out sexily, but by the time she reaches the middle of her sentence she’s full on laughing. “Isn’t always the truth.”

Despite himself, he’s laughing right along. “That stupid song - I swear!” He doesn’t have to finish his warning, the recurrent joke is here to stay, and they both know it, so there’s no fighting it.

“What-what?” She laughs, once again closing the gap between them. “Darling, I’ve got the same parts that you do.” Her words leave her mouth at the same time that long fingers circle his wrist, bringing his hand to touch between her legs. She’s not tucked, and is already getting hard for him.

His eyes widen, and his hand caresses her on its own accord. “Oh, wow,” he pushes through gritted teeth, his own arousal growing by the minute.

The small smirk turns into a full smile. “I made you pancakes for dinner but I guess we can jump straight to the dessert.” She removes his hand from herself and, before he knows it, she’s making her way up the stairs with him in tow.

Doing his best not to step on her heels, Brian follows close behind. His heartbeat is racing and he wonders if she can feel the pulse point on his wrist. His entire body is pulsing, his bottom half more than any other. His eyes are glued to the swaying movement of her ass right in front of his face. There’s an impulse to bite it, to have his teeth sinking into the tender flesh and firm muscles. He has to wait to do that, until she’s rid of all the green foam and Katya becomes Brian again.

With a swift movement, she pushes all the fabric she had been working on to the floor, leaving the bed with nothing but the fitted sheet and a few pillows on top.

“Help me take this off. I don’t wanna ruin my new creation before it even sees the stage.”

She turns around, two ribbons are gracefully laced across her back, and he untangles them with ease. One by one he pulls the silky streams from their hooks. Her breathing becomes lighter as her torso is released from the restriction of the garment. Just when he’s about to take the corset off, he discovers there’s a zipper that still holds the damn thing together.

“Oh, fuck me!” he grumbles frustratedly.

A small giggle leaves her as she looks over her shoulder, attempting to face him. “I’m trying, but I need you to take this off first.”

Her own hands snake behind herself, finding the device and struggling to get a hold of it with her long nails. He places his fingers around hers and, together, they pull it down. The stones tickle his arm as he catches the corset, but he couldn’t care less. All he sees are the indentations the material has left on her skin. He runs his fingers over the deep grooves and soon his lips follow the red paths, leaving sweet kisses. His tongue runs up and down the marks, trying to ease the pain.

“Jesus,” she exhales seductively. Partly enjoying the soothing sensation, and partly in desire.

She pushes her lower half hard against him. The sudden move throws him off balance, his back hits the wall behind him as she keeps on rubbing her ass on his crotch. He feels himself growing stiff inside his pants, she surely can’t tell, though, not with all the layers separating them. That can be taken care of. His fingers find the waistband of her tights and pull them down, bringing her shiny red thong and all the pads down with it.

And he can’t believe his luck. There’s no room in his mind to comprehend how he is worthy of dating someone so hot. Brian’s body is standing in front of him, in all its naked glory, skin covered with many tattoos; but Brian is also Katya, with a messy wig on and a full face of makeup.

“Undress.” It’s not a request, it’s a command, one that he obeys as Katya puts the just-finished outfit away, safely hanging it in the closet. Her ass, Brian’s real ass, is in full display as she walks away, and the view is even better from the front when she comes back, wearing nothing but the sparkling bra.

He makes sure to be completely naked and ready once Katya returns. Brian’s lying on the bed, his fist is closed around himself, slowly going up and down.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad night,” she says a little too nicely, verging on condescending, as she positions herself between his open legs. “Now, let me make it all better for you.”

The signs of a bottle being opened barely reach Brian’s ears, he’s too lost in the fog of desire to really make out his surroundings. That is until a finger is inserted; the cold of the lube makes him yelp, then there are heavy moans leaving his lips as a second finger goes in. He feels in full Trixie mode, loudly expressing how good it feels to have all the tensions of the night washing away.

“Look at me, baby.”

He does. Brian opens his eyes just to see Katya’s beautiful face contort in pleasure as she enters him, inch by painful inch. She’s making little whimpering noises, feeling her full woman fantasy as she thrusts deep into him. The feminine sighs only turn Brian on even more. As the signs of his orgasm start to build, he can feel all the anger and annoyance melting away. It doesn’t take long before he finds his release, screaming loudly and taking Katya right over the cliff with him.

She pulls out slowly, making him whimper at the loss of contact. Her still red lips land on his stomach, her tongue licking him clean.

“Maybe I should try on new drag more often.”

His tired body can’t do anything but let out a small, “Yes, please.”

[infiniteinjury]

Free Speech Slip and Slide

In the past I’ve written at length about my concern that the newly invigorated attitude that we must outlaw, or at least severely socially punish the speakers, racist/sexist/etc.. speech is a mistake. I have doubts about the efficacy of such punishments and believe that pushing racism adjacent views into a hidden underground where they fester and mutate1 creates more hate. However, the primary thrust of my concern was the usual slippery slope argument (importantly serious harms arise as soon as well-intentioned people start to fear that an epistemic mistake could land them in trouble). Unfortunately, evidence for a steep slippery plastic slope with extra soap arrived all too quickly.

Superiority of Western Culture

First we had this really stupid opinion piece that I would have guessed was written by a machine learning algorithm trained on 1980s era conservative values pieces if it had only mentioned crack (still managed a shout out to the pill for destroying our perfect 1950s society). Personally, I thought it was just as stupid this time around as I did in the late 80s and early 90s except these authors should have seen how that went and known better. However, as far as offensiveness goes it rates as a “kids these days…have no … always on their..” but somehow it has become the subject of accusations of racism and the subject of serious controversy (yes, that last article is written by a friend of the original author so take its slant with a grain of salt).

True, there is no credible effort to have the author fired from her position in the law school but it has generated enough outrage for students to get up in time to picket Wax’s class as racist and its not just some hasty people with signs. At least a non-trivial segment of the Penn campus left is willing to call this piece racist, sexist or otherwise suggest it isn’t just dumb and wrong but deserving of open moral scorn.

While one might try and charitably reconstruct some argument based on the text of the oped2 what is going on is what is always going on with accusations of racism/sexism/islamophobia etc.. Rather than parsing the literal content of a piece and asserting those claims amount to racism (or providing evidence that the author was being disingenuous) people decide to call something racist if it feels like the things racists would say. In this case there is no doubt this oped has that feel. Indeed, it hits many of the points that one would expect from a racist dog-whistle: glorification of European/western culture, suggestion that something associated with whites is superior, a nostalgic comparison to the 1950s, reference to some aspect of black culture the author disapproves of (“anti-“acting white” rap culture of inner-city blacks”) and even the obligatory focus on whites that have the traits you are criticizing.

The problem with taking this as grounds for accusations of racism is that it confuses being the sort of person whose strong affinity for traditionalism and reverence for long lived institutions and practices may make needed reform more difficult with actual racism. However, we are generally quite willing to let the earnest man who is such a strong believer in feminism that he frequently gives a piece of his mind to men who he views as pushing an aggressive male-centric approach on women and thereby does more to perpetuate the stereotype of women as unable to handle these situations than anyone he criticizes. This case is only different in that it is harder to imagine genuinely feeling that these old school conservative values are the secret to a better life and wanting to help minorities by sharing. Also in that often people who feel this way about morals and newfangled social innovations also feel this way about minorities but that’s just a stereotype.

Most importantly, it renders the standard for racism uselessly subjective. If it is no longer necessary to have overt animus or believe in some particular stereotype then it is insanely easy to apply the term to virtually anyone you want. Especially given that as the sphere of things that have been labeled racist expands fewer and fewer non-racists say anything in that sphere so just imagine the same dialog in 20 years about pieces supporting free speech. It would be something mostly racists talk about as a cover, anyone like me writing about it would explain that we believed in it for everyone (while detractors would point out that we kept focusing on the free speech of the racists as they don’t see it from the context in which that is the right place to make one’s stand), one could raise analogies to the contract rights arguments offered in the civil rights movement (yes its bad but the constitution…we just can’t do anything). The only thing this lacks is the subjective feel that comes from hearing lots of racists say something that sounds similar but we can’t cede to racists the power to decide what is and isn’t considered.

Also, as a practical matter this kind of use of the accusation of racism isn’t productive. The reason to use the term at all is to invoke our shared disapprobation of certain behaviors to change people’s behavior. Telling someone ‘suggesting that blacks only eat fried Chicken or look like Gorillas’ is racist usually results in an immediate change and the world is a better place but when you say that some vague thing about the gestalt I get from your article is racist doesn’t. If I were the author and was willing to sell out my views so I wouldn’t be racist how would I even know where to start?

Call these ideas out as stupid or even the kind of progress phobic thinking that perpetuates racism that’s great but its just not racism.

University of Tampa’s Impolitic Twitter Firing

Also, we have the University of Tampa firing a visiting professor for the following poorly considered and bumblinging inappropriate tweet

I dont believe in instant karma but this kinda feels like it for Texas. Hopefully this will help them realize the GOP doesnt care about them.

This is obviously just a case of someone not realizing how what he said would be taken in context. When he did he apologized. That should have been the end of it.

While at first glance one might feel that this isn’t really relevant to the broader picture at the moment. However, while it wasn’t exactly an academic paper this tweet is fundamentally nothing but an expression of a political sentiment. Indeed, suppose the author really believed this was some kind of divine vengeance on Texas for voting GOP. Surely that is core political-religious speech if anything is so its hard to see how this is anything but a direct attack on the idea that Professors get to comment on current events and broader social issues without fear of being fired for controversial views (assuming they don’t bear on their academic qualifications…mathematicians probably shouldn’t say $\omega$ and $2^\omega$ have the same cardinality).

Mistakes

We need room for people to make mistakes! Even mistakes about what to believe on controversial issues because only when people feel they won’t lose their jobs or be shunned if they get it wrong can they allow themselves to explore the issue and reach the right conclusions.

I know its really hard in these discussions to imagine any other perspective than your own but rarely is it the case that someone just wakes up out of the blue filled with hate and the desire to see another race suffer. Sure, sometimes the reasons are just visceral (your gang is white they are black) but in most cases there is some chain of thought and emotion that made every step they took seem reasonable so if you suspect the target of your criticism of simply reasonless hate you should probably reevaluate that view.

However, that is what makes the situation so dangerous as well. Given that even racists think they have good and sound justifications for their beliefs an atmosphere which imposes severe penalties for even minor infractions allows only one safe response: parrot back the official dogma.

But, if we are going to fix the remaining barriers and harms inflicted by problematic stereotypes and structural racism/sexism we need to find them in non-obvious places and that takes open speculation. We’ve picked all the low hanging fruit so more looking for white or male ‘perpetrators’ (if it could have been fixed easily that way we would have) we instead need to look at the less examined reservoirs of stereotypes such as members of the group themselves or the well-intentioned helper3. That means we need to walk on the edge and consider possibly offensive or unpleasant possibilities if we are going to figure out what is really going on so we can do something to fix things.

I’ve seen any number of scenarios in which the perception that certain topics can’t even be discussed doesn’t erase those ideas from people’s minds. Rather, it pushes them to form groups (the ones that go silent when a woman or minority comes by and we work so hard to eliminate) in which they feel they can comfortably express views they are sympathetic to but are too controversial for general consumption. Unfortunately, when people gather together for the purpose of feeling safe sharing controversial views creates a strong social pressure not to call anyone else’s views in that group out for sexism/racism/etc.. even in a polite friendly way. I’m constantly amazed at how quickly both such groups form and how quickly they descend to the lowest common denominator and serve as a breeding ground where hateful ideas can infect good people because there is no opportunity to apply the corrective of a good counterargument and criticism. ↩

Taking their complaints at face value would seem to suggest the problem is that suggesting WASP culture (not so named) is superior is racist or at least unacceptable and bad. While those of us immersed in liberal sensibilities naturally flinch a bit when the suggestion is made that one culture is superior to another that doesn’t make the claim wrong or racist. Indeed, we all believe that, at least in the modern context, modern western culture is superior to the violent revenge culture in some New Guinean tribes all things considered (of course cultures have so many traits surely we could cherry pick a few improvements but the original piece doesn’t deny this). Hell, the very idea of tolerance and equality that those on the left are fighting for is a rare value for a culture to have and we are right to identify it as something good and important. But I think this “can’t say one culture is better than another” line isn’t a very charitable interpretation. ↩

Everyone knows that a great deal of slut-shaming and outfit policing is done to women by women and we’ve learned recently that it is other women who do the majority of interrupting women and may very well be the ones preventing more competitive female involvement. This matches both my experience at caltech (women who had few if any female friends their whole lives were way more likely to just blunder in and shot their load on the conversation or dismiss someone else’s contribution as stupid) and what evolutionary psychology would suggest (men have little interest in policing women but each gender needs to police rivals). Of course, men aren’t on the hook they are just on the hook for something else perpetuating harmful male stereotypes which can harm women as much as they do men (say by men not being willing to become primary caregivers). ↩

Free Speech Slip and Slide was originally published on Rejecting Rationality