How I lost my virginity to a broom stick

It’s fucking Pride month and you know what that means? It means there are LGBTQ+ people young and old about to start making themselves visible in ways we don’t do year round. Some of us have the distinct pleasure, if you can call it that, of living our authentic lives. At the same time there are others in the community who don’t have that luxury. Whether you see Pride as a protest, a celebration or a mixture of both, there is one thing we can ALL agree on and it’s about being more visible. That is why this year I am going to commit to writing very deeply personal blogs digging into my own sexuality. My sister Robin will tell you I am kinda repressed in a lot of ways, sexually speaking. So you know this is not easy for me to share. But fuck it, this has to be done, it has to be shared.

When I say I am a virgin that is technically true in the purest sense. Meaning I have never had traditional sexual intercourse with another human being, this includes penetrative and non penetrative forms of genital exposure. But that doesn’t mean I have never experienced an orgasm. Nor does it mean I have never had a sexual experience with another human being.

I won’t share the details but I have had and have given hand jobs. I have given oral sex to a former partner at least once. And yes I have done the nasty all by my lonesome oh so many times. Yes that is all true. I have also had a lot of anal penetration over the years. No, sadly, not with a partner. But that doesn’t completely diminish my experiences.

I won’t divulge the first time I inserted an object into my anus with the intention of seeing how it felt. I will say it was around the same time I started questioning my gender identity so if you know anything about me at all that should give you some clues. I will also not be sharing every, well, thing, I have tried. That is both private and well frankly not something I care to share at this time.

I will describe my first orgasm though, and I will be honest it did not involve my genitals.

I was 12 years old. I hadn’t even discovered my junk could get hard yet let alone learned what comes next. I had already explored my anal cavity with various “toys” and things in an attempt to see what felt good. Spoiler alert it pretty much all did. At 12 years old, before I had my first ejaculatory emission I found myself in a literal closet, in my bedroom door closed, locked, front door to the house locked, radio up, TV on in my bedroom to drown out the noise. I took a screwdriver handle and went to town. It didn’t take long before I found the sweet spot and holy fucking shit that was all it took. I never told anyone this but I basically tried everything from there discovering what I liked, what I didn’t and figuring out what my limits were. That first time was, masturbatory for sure but it was also, well messy so it was short experience.

I spent the next few years, yes years, basically finding anything I could that would fit comfortably in me that I could keep there for a casual reminder I was different than everyone else. I am not going to lie here I kept pencils, pens, markers and other similar items handy just in case. I was always wearing women’s or girls panties so it was just another thing I had to hide.

When I say I “lost my virginity” to a broomstick that is not entirely accurate. The headline is eye catching but it’s not far from the truth. I literally got screwed by a screwdriver on more than one occasion. By the time I was 15 I had already begun the horror that was teenage “male” puberty so I had discovered another form of masturbating that included the use of said genitals. Now by this time I had also done some heavy petting with at least two girls so I was still figuring out what I liked.

It was right after I turned 16. I was staying home from school after I had dropped out. I was running around the house in a swimming suit I “borrowed” and found myself blasting “Work Baby Work” by the Quad City DJ’s. The song certainly turned me on in a weird way no other song had before. I had played with hair brushes, and other similar items plenty of times up to that point, But today was different. This day I took a broom handle into the bathroom, filled the tub with warm water and bubbles, slid things into place and Holy. Fucking. Shit. I know I had an orgasm because I shook violently. I experienced a sensation I had never felt before. After I exhausted myself from the most pleasurable penetration I have ever experienced I grabbed the little guy, finished the deed and drained the tub. I cleaned myself off, put the items I borrowed away, returning the broom to it’s designated place. Then I went to my bedroom and cried. Then prayed. I begged God to forgive me for sinning. I wasn’t sure what I had done that was a sin, I just knew it felt so damn good it had to be a sin. It was only the first, far, far from the last.

I never told anyone this but yes I would make excuses to stay home, alone, as often as I could. Not just to spend as much girl time as I could, ya know as I explored my femininity. But I also couldn’t wait to get under a bed, in a closet or even into a bathtub to try again. I quickly learned I had far more greater sexual experiences when anal was either involved, or the main focus of my explorations.

I write this, now, because Pride Month is all about telling the world people like me exist and our sexual desires might be different from theirs, they are just as valid and just as important to us as theirs are to them. I don’t know if I would enjoy being penetrated by an actual penis attached to a man, but I do know I have at least learned could accommodate one should that situation arise. I also know, from experience, that I can fit an anatomically accurate facsimile too. I share this because I don’t believe I am a pervert or a sinner for having these feelings or enjoying a sexual experience that differs from the hetero norm. I also share this because fuck it, Pride is all about pushing boundaries and what better way to do that then talking about gay sex, even if it’s masturbatory in nature. I say rub, suck, jab or fuck whatever it is that gets you where you need to go. At the end of the day be you. Stay Cool and Happy Pride~

Forgotten underrated 80s movies, why digital movie collecting sucks, Ghostbusters toys and more!

In this episode I take a look at 10 forgotten underrated 80s movies nobody ever talks about.

I also take a look at DVD collecting and contemplate why digital collecting isn’t taking off like streaming is. 

Oh and NEW TOYS including a very special Ghostbuster figure! This was a fun episode I hope you enjoy~

Transphobes beware, why I don’t tuck, deal with it

I have been seeing a lot of debates around the internet among queer people about whether or not kink should be allowed at Pride. The arguments center on Pride being a celebration that should be all inclusive for children thus keeping it “family friendly.” The other side, the pro kink side, argue Pride is not a celebration it is a protest. I have been going over this entire argument in my mind for the past few weeks ever since I learned of it.

I decided I am ready to chime in. I have been battling gender dysphoria for my entire life. I started transitioning one year ago because I couldn’t stomach living a lie any longer. I have always been a non conformist. That was partly how I covered up being trans, I liked to break stereotypes and ignore societal norms wherever I could. But somewhere along the way I found myself blending in to navigate those turbulent waters. That is, until I realized that blending in was killing me and I needed to shift gears before I ran out of energy to hold on.

For me gender dysphoria means I was born in the wrong body. Plain and simple. So the fact I am transgender does mean I lean into feminine stereotypes as a way to stave off that dysphoria. It’s why I wear makeup. To fit in with the other females but also to look pretty. I want to be admired. It’s one of the female traits I admire. But there is a part of me, the feminist woman I am trying to become, that wants to say you don’t have to live up to stereotypes. You can be trans and still wear pants, grow a beard or even forgo HRT. There is no rule book that says this is how you trans.

So when I started thinking about tucking in relation to Pride and my own gender expression and developing sexuality I came to a realization that I don’t do it for one reason. It’s makes me uncomfortable to do so. Yes I would kill to have bottom surgery and get the vagina my brain keeps telling me I need. But as long as I have the thing that shall remain unnamed, I am going to make do.

At first it wasn’t about protest or nonconformity for me. I never tuck. I refuse. It’s not comfortable and it makes me feel weird. I do, sometimes, wear gaff but that’s a different story. As I started listening to the discussions online between older queer people and the younger generation I started to see argument for and against bulge popping up. One trans person said they celebrate girl bulge because it demonstrates strength. Another responded they tuck out of fear of being clocked and the repercussions that go along with it. Another said it’s to stave off their dysphoria. I see all thee of those points as valid.

Here is why I wanted to chime in. Even before I knew who I was into sexually I knew two things about the male sex organ from an early age. I hated having one but I also love them on other people. This was a part of my discovery I tried to burry deep down. I felt if I was attracted to penis, or penile humans, it meant I was gay. Now I already determined I was gay, or a lesbian anyways, when I discovered I am also into vaginas and identify as a female. This put me in a strange place where I felt either way I went would be a betrayal to the real me.

Bulge for me is empowering to those who show it. I do find trans woman who show their bulge sexy, not gonna lie. That’s not why I don’t tuck though, because I want to be perceived as female. But I don’t want to be objectified. I want to be treated like a woman worth treating like a woman because of who I am, not because of my genitals. I mean damn if you’re only nice to the people you think about fucking you’re not a decent human being. That’s actually kinda self serving in fact.

I don’t want to go to the beach with my bulge showing. But I do want to wear a bikini to the beach despite not having the physical shape most women consider bikini bod. For me it is about tapping into my femininity and feminism. I want to push the boundaries of queerness in public. Normalize those who are different so people go to the beach, or Pride, can just be seen as people out having a good time, and nobody will be worried about which ones they can imagine naked while they jerk off when nobody is looking.

For me women, men and children should be free to wear whatever they want in public and not have to worry about who is looking. After all if you can’t see a person in public showing skin because you’re afraid it’ll get you off, that’s your problem not ours. To that end I say bring on the kink. Bring on the guy bulge, assless chaps and whatever else makes queer people comfortable, cishet people uncomfortable and helps normalize queerness in all its manifestations.

Transposed 19- Importance of Trans Twitter

In this lighter episode the girls talk about their personal experiences with trans Twitter. 

Robin asks the questions what does it mean to us. In relation to this the girls recall recent Twitter threads they each participated in. 

And once again this week’s top five was chosen by the listeners. The topic is plants. In a surprise twist, Robin is the one to go off the rails leaving Stephanie to hold down the fort. 

The Spiders Lair looks at The Conjuring

Ghost stories, haunted houses and demonic possession are the stuff of nightmare for me. As a horror fan I can tell you the movie that give me the most chills are those involving these topics. Demon possession is probably high on the list.

I have been watching horror movies ever since I was a child. I have recently been on a retro kick where I’ve been exploring the hidden gems from the 70s and 80s that I might have missed out on for one reason or another. I’ve been mostly avoiding the newer stuff for a number of reasons. My main reason is I have been told modern horror isn’t as good as the older stuff. I am not sure I agree with that sentiment.

In the past few years I have come across a handful of horror films that have really impressed me in ways few of the so-called classics have. Sure movies like The Last House on the Left, Hellraiser and Needful Things are among the scariest and thought provoking horror films I have come across. That hasn’t stopped me from discovering movies that I enjoyed as much, if not more than, those fantastic films. Sure I really dug Oculus. It Follows reminded me that teen horror can still captivate me even as I age into their parents demographic. And even something like We Are What We Are comes along and delivers a shocking ending that delivers on the promise of the slow build. And yet despite these modern classics I have been turned off by the barrage of low grade movies shot with a cheap camera or those infamous found footage licks I detest. Along came The Conjuring.

This is a movie that based purely on the trailer I knew if I watched it I would find it frightening. The 80’s have often been regarded as the golden age of horror films, especially the slasher among others. But I am here to tell you right now The Conjuring is the sort of movie that restores my faith in the genre. Now truth be told I am legit afraid of demonic dolls. So the idea of watching Anabelle gives me chills, and no in a good way. Except, that’s what I love about horror. A movie that can keep me interested and scare the bezjeesus out of me is the type of horror film that is going to grab my attention. Despite the terrible sequels The Ring remains one of the few horror movies that can still cause me to tense up when I revisit it. The Conjuring has that in spades.

The first thing I will say about this movie is it really delivered. Now this isn’t exactly a review of the movie itself. Rather this is intended to be a discussion of modern horror and my discovering basically what I have been missing out on. Now that I have seen this first entry you can bet your ass I am going to explore the rest of this universe as much as I can. At least for the time being.

It is rare for a movie to leave me wanting more. This was that movie. Not so much more from the same cast or within the same mythology but more movies in this style with this tone. Sure the Saw movies deliver on the gore and Human Centipede has the shock value but most modern horror movies I have seen, even those that came highly recommended, have been lackluster for the most part. For every fantastic film like Midsommar, you get three more Saw flicks, five found footage films and terrible movies like incredibly boring Would You Rather. It’s movies like that last one that really make me roll me eyes. So many Saw copy cats and not one of them worth a damn. That’s not saying anything about whether or not I even enjoyed Saw, that’s a story for another day. But I have realized most horror movies today come in two flavors. Those trying to out gore the movies from decades past, i.e. Human Centipede, or those trying to appeal to a younger audience that grew up with cell phones such as the annual Paranormal Activity release. I see films like that advertised and I wonder what happened to horror.

I want to take a deeper look at the modern films I have been avoiding. I also want to touch on one aspect of the horror world that has been shining bright lately and that’s TV. With shows like The Walking Dead, Lucifer, Supernatural, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and of course Stranger Things, horror has been enjoying some tremendous success lately.

Let’s take a step back and hone in on The Conjuring for a moment. I promise I will do a legit review in the near future. You can expect it to be a video review on my YouTube channel. In the meantime I will tide you over with a quick reminder that I rather enjoyed this movie quite a bit. In fact I will go so far to say this has easily propelled itself to my top possession films. It might not attain the number one spot quite yet, I have to do some deeper thinking on that first. But it is absolutely going to be a film I revisit frequently.

This takes me to my first impression. A bit ago I dismissed Paranormal Activity. Why? Well frankly it’s low budget, low production values aesthetic. It looks like something I wouldn’t enjoy watching. When I saw trailers for Oculus I knew I would enjoy that movie. While I did, it was not a fraction of how pleasing The Conjuring was. This is a movie I can sum up with a single word, satisfying.

There’s a lot of reasons why I tread lightly when going into demonic movies, ghost stories and haunted house films. I am a Witch. I believe in the power of evil spirits. Thus for me these are the movies that hit closest to home so to speak. Now I won’t even touch the way witches are portrayed as purely evil devil worshipers in this movie. Rather I will sidestep that for now and focus on the rest.

I often find myself thumbing through the endless thumbnails on Netflix looking for anything that catches my eye. Naturally I dive into the horror section first. Normally I flip through, decide I don’t see anything I want to invest my time into and return to good old faithful Shudder where I am nearly always met with something that will deliver the goods. This was one of those rare instances where Netflix just happened to have a legit horror movie that was new and not one I had seen a dozen or more times or something that reads like it was written by an 8th grader discovering horror for the first time. And that’s how most of the so-called horror movies I have discovered on Netflix felt. Like they were made by or for kids who have no appreciation for the art. That is absolutely not the case when it comes to this movie.

By far The Conjuring proves two things to me that I had been questioning. The first was that modern horror that captivates me and terrifies me at the same time does exist. It also cemented the reality that despite the love for indie horror, every once in a while Hollywood knocks it out of the park.

What gives me pause is if I decide this movie was a rush of terrifying brilliance how disappointed will I be when the next film I explored is a dud? Well at the end of the day I enjoyed this movie. It rekindled my love of horror while showing me there can still be good horror movies made in modern times. It also scared the living daylights out of me which is absolutely what I want in a scary movie.

Ghosts of Midlands Past Chapter 2- The Wishing Well

Ghosts of Midlands Past

By Stephanie Bri

Chapter 2 The wishing well

It was getting cold down in the well.  Her feet were getting cold from sloshing in the water. This was not what Jennifer had in mind when she woke up this morning.

“How in the hell did I get myself into this mess?” she asked. As she pulled herself up onto the ridge of the well she felt a sharp pain surge through her leg.

“Aw damn it all. I must have sprained my ankle during the drop.” she said.

It didn’t take long before she realized how unusual it was for a well like this to have ridge around the circumference in the first place. Something felt really odd about the whole thing.

Jennifer began swaying her hands around the knee-deep water looking for her flashlight she dropped on the way down. After a few moments she pulled it out of the water. Fortunately it still turned on.

She shined her light around the well to see what she could identify. She noticed it wasn’t like a typical watering well she had read about. It had a narrow ledge about six inches going around the wall of the well. On the far side she noticed something else that was unusual. She shined her light in that direction to see what appeared to be a crack in the wall. Not the kind made b weather wear, it looked man-made in how straight it was. She hopped down into the water to take the pressure off her ankle.

She slowly made her way around the circular dungeon she found herself trapped in for now. As soon as she reached the other side she ran her fingers along the length of the crack. She traced it around a square about twelve inches square she figured. To her chagrin it was far too small to be a trap door to a hidden passage.

“Oh sure Jen, let your imagination run wild,” she said.

Still, she could tell something felt rely strange. She knew her uncle, who sold the house to her mother for a bargain price, was a very secretive individual. But not nearly as secretive as her deceased father. She wasn’t sure what to expect but figured she would give the brick a push. Suddenly to her surprise brick came loose. She managed to muster  enough strength to nudge it loose.

She realized that even though it was obviously cut out of the wall, she lacked the energy to remove it from its resting place. After a few minutes of tugging she wasn’t able to move more than one corner lose from the wall. That, however, was all she needed to shine her flashlight in the cracks to see what she could spot. No, it wasn’t a secret passage way as she had hoped. She could see there was definitely a space carved into the wall behind the brick. She couldn’t quite make out what was in the slit but it looked like there was something there.

Deciding she was best served conserving her energy she curled her legs up onto the ledge as best she could, propped her book bag up on the loose brick to use as a pillow and closed her eyes.

There are secrets you were never meant to unlock.

The voice rang in her ears as she drifted to sleep.

(Jennifer was leaning next to her favorite tree. She knew she was dreaming by the fog that was surrounding her.

“If I’m dreaming I guess it means I’m not dead” she thought.

She looked around. The fog was the thickest she had ever seen. It was like the fog you’d see in ghost movies on TV.

She looked around for familiar clues.

You must be lost, child. This is no place for a young woman like yourself.

Jennifer could hear the voice again. She looked around to see where it was coming from. Slowly she spotted a figure appearing out of the fog. It was a woman with long, curly hair. It was a golden shimmer righter than the sun. The woman was dressed in white robes. She had the most beautiful gray and blue eyes Jennifer had ever seen. They reminded her of her dad. He was blind in one eye. The tint in his dead eye was slightly off compared to his normal one. It used to gross people out.

The woman walked over to Jennifer, her heart racing. Even though she knew it was just a dream she was certain she had no desire to visit with a ghost.

You are not wrong to be afraid child. You do not belong here. Close your eyes and I will return you to the land of the living where you belong. I pray that it will be a very long time before I see you here again, dear child.

Startled awake Jennifer was blinded by a white light. The first thing she noticed was she felt warm, dry and that felt wrong.nThen as her eyes began to adjust she realized she was in a hospital bed.

Unsure of how she got out of the well she sat up startled.

“Wow there, it’s okay Jen, momma’s here,” her mother said. “You’re safe now sweetie.”

Jennifer’s mother leaned in and engulfed the teenager in the smuggest hug she had ever been embraced within.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You are in the hospital. We found you unconscious by that old well out back,” her mother said.

“How long was I asleep?” Jennifer sked.

“Three days darling. I was beginning to worry. But I stayed right here by your side every day waiting for you to wake up. I just knew you’d wake up,” she said.

Jennifer was too tired to hold herself up any longer. She plopped back down onto her pillow and let her arms drop to her sides.

How did I get out of the well?

“Wait, you said I was lying next to the well right?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes dear, we found you on the ground.” her mother said. “What were you even doing out so late?”

Jennifer wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t sound like her mom knew she had been inside the bottom of the well. She didn’t know if she was quite ready to break that news to her as she still had questions on how she go out of the well.

“Hey, there she is, our little comma patient,” a voice she was all to familiar with said.

“How ya doing squirt, is my baby sis smothering you for taking a three-day nap?” uncle Trent said. “You’re mom here insisted on sleeping here at the hospital in that uncomfortable chair. When I told her she had nothing to worry about our Jennifer was a tough gal.”

“Oh stop it Trent, she’s been through a lot,” mom said.

“Right sis, as if twisting her ankle, falling and hitting her head on that stone well wasn’t enough to worry about, she’s got you coddling her like a child. It’s high time you cut the damn cord,” Trent said.

Jennifer didn’t want to get in the middle of another argument between her mom and her uncle.

“Guys, please I am still very sore and I have this headache the size of New Mexico,” Jennifer said.

“Well shit girl, just trying to get my grown ass sister to stop babying her own child who is damn near an adult from what I can tell.” Trent said. “To hell with this! You to bitches can just cry and hug all day, I’ve got work to do.” he said as he threw his arms up and stormed out.

Brenda placed her hand on Jennifer’s shoulder and said. “Don’t mind him, he was as worried about you as the rest of us, he just likes to act tough. Somehow thinks it will hurt his manhood if he shows any emotions. Never mind him, how is your ankle feeling?” mom asked.

Jennifer had forgotten about her ankle until her uncle brought it up. She squinted as she loosened up her muscles trying to take stock of what all did hurt. She certainly felt a bump on her heard that wasn’t there before. Was that why she couldn’t remember how she got out of the well?

“Mom, how wet was I went you found me? How long was I in that old well?” Jennifer asked.

“Oh silly Jen, we found you lying next to the well, you were never inside it. How would you even get down there? It’s been dried up for decades,” mom said.

“Mom I was down at the bottom of the well for at least a few hours. I slid down the old rope that was tied to the beam,” Jennifer said. “The water broke my fall when the rope snapped and I couldn’t get back up. The last thing I remember is trying to get above the water so I could fall asleep. I must have been drenched when you found me.” Jennifer said.

“Jennifer you must have dreamt the whole thing. There is no rope. There is no water. That well’s been dry for nearly forty years. Besides think about it. What on earth would possess you to climb into that broken old thing any way. Honestly. Sometimes your imagination is too damn much.” mom said.

Jennifer thought about what her mom was saying. Was it possible she dreamt the whole thing? If so did she actually pass out before climbing into the well?

Wait! The key she thought.

“Mother, where s my bag the things I had on me” Jennifer asked excitedly.

“Right here dear.” her mom said as she handed the bag to the distraught teen.

She frantically rummaged through her belongings. Everything was there. Every tool or item she packed was exactly where she left it. Except the key. It was gone.

“Where’s the key! I had a key it was right here in this pouch,” she said as she flipped the pocket inside out to demonstrate.

“I have no clue what you are talking about Jen,” mom said.

Jennifer was not about to let her mother talk to her like this.

“I know what I saw mother. I distinctly remember climbing down into the old well to fetch a key I saw when I shined my flashlight down there. When the rope snapped I couldn’t get back up so I slid the rest of the way down and slept the night. I know that part wasn’t a dream because…” she stopped and let her voice trail as she noticed the concerned look in her mother’s eyes.

“Because what darling?” her mother said. It was clear by the tone in her voice she was going from relieved Jen was alive to concerned for her mental state.

“Nothing mom. I guess I must have imagined it or something when I hit my head, like you said.” she said.

“Listen the doctor is going to be in here soon to ask you questions. I would strongly advise you not to tell him about your delusion of climbing down into an empty well.”

Jennifer agreed it was best not to make herself sound crazy while she was in a hospital bed. Still she knew what had happened that night. What was a mystery was how on earth did she get out of the well.