Street Called Main

Chapter I: Part II - A Few Hearts Ago

"I really, really have to fart. And poop." Chris thought to himself as he sat on the toilet, just outside the vicinity of Shawn who continued to lay on the bed.

It was the morning afterwards, and Shawn was feeling unsatisfied. The thought of having sex with a "Sissy Princess," had never entered his mind until he saw: Chris.

Chris and Shawn met on a dating application for the smart phone. The things that Shawn was saying to Chris; and the way he procured his terms to describe the everlasting beauty of him had left Chris - enamoured, to say the least.

That's the only reason Chris had decided to continue dressing in women's clothing and applying makeup to his face.

Just the idea of knowing that there was and most likely was an existing tribe of men who felt that he was so pretty; that a self-proclaimed straight man would deign to have intercourse with him; was more than enough to propel him towards seeking a relationship with the same gender - even though he felt as if he was the opposite.

Chris was: standing. Half-naked. And as he stood; Shawn admired his body with the fervour of that of a routous twelve-year old boy with the libido of a bull.

His white, pale - naked butt; glistened in the day light that radiated throughout the room; via his open window blinds.

He was draped in pink-lace panties and his white tank-top dangled off his pale and thin torso; he played with his hair; dyed blonde - even though it was wearing off: it still looked pretty to Shawn.

"Do you like my hair?" Chris asked him, "it's not as long as I'd like it to be-"

Shawn interrupted, "it's perfect, babe."

"Good. I thought I looked.. gross; for a second."

Shawn didn't see the pain that plagued Chris - emotionally, physically or otherwise. Chris had never met his father; never had a strong masculine figure in his life. Chris had Asperger's Syndrome which was indeed the "Royal Disability," so to speak - in the sense that those who truly had Asperger's Syndrome and not mere autism - were functioning on the top of the spectrum, intellectually. Chris was also born with a pretty woman's face - and regardless of his inherent beauty - many attempted to tear him down, and scorn his complexion with fierce and violent attacks when Chris felt it was appropriate to tell the truth - which was at every point during conversation in which he was tested.

Chris had never been raped, so to speak. However: he had been propositioned as a child to sleep with an older gentleman who felt that he was ripe for picking, so to speak.

It had never dawned on his mother or Chris until recently that when he was offered to another family at birth - it was because he was being chosen as the princess; rather than the prince: in a macro sociological model; which seemed to place him on the top of the pyramid along with the singer and songwriter he deigned to have romantic relations with; regardless of the fact that he was abating the truth pertaining to his love interests and attempting to fill the void with strange male intercourse.

Shawn: propped himself off the bed, and edged towards the end table where a gathering of the provided narcotics existed.

Shawn picked a cigarette from out of the package, and sparked the lighter as to ignite the tube filled with tobacco that hung from his lips.

"Babe-" Shawn uttered; as he inhaled, "I'm going to work, soon."

"Oh-" Chris replied; sorting through a myriad of women's garments - coming across his white, long-stranded wig. "I thought, maybe: I could throw on something-"

Shawn always had a method to his madness - or - absence, rather: in which he was able to effectively abate Chris' plans which always included himself.

Shawn began to dress himself with the clothes that lay on the floor near the mattress.

Chris hurried over to Shawn, "Stay. Please-"

"I got no reason to," Shawn replied.