*Please note this content contains adult language and themes. It is intended for a mature audience.*
By A K Kinley
The dressing rooms were close to the stage access, which gave Reed Collins an opportunity to see the flowers arriving. He worked with a sound crew of about fifty other individuals, who were now adjusting cords and cables, running preliminary checks on amps and sound boards. The pyro techs were setting up their display, as the last hour and a half winded down before the metal band Hardcore took stage.
As the delivery boy left, Reed anxiously waited for his phone to chime, alerting him to a new chat message from Levon Kruger, the band’s drummer. He didn’t care that they had already chatted five times today, as Reed’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the familiar ding. Slipping away from the crew, he found a wall to lean against, barely a hundred feet from Levon’s dressing room.
LevonRocks: The flowers are beautiful, like I imagine your face. Bet you’re one hot gay boy.
Playboy28: Not as beautiful and hot as it will be watching you on stage tonight.
LevonRocks: I think I’m falling in love with a cyber-boyfriend. LOL.
Playboy28: ILU2, Levon.
LevonRocks: WYWH with your lips on mine…see you…touch you…taste you…quick bj before show.
Playboy28: Wish I was there 2…your hands on my body…thinking about you inside my ass, and returning the favor.
LevonRocks: Bet your face ain’t the only hot thing. Wanna make love to that tight, warm ass…and to your heart. I’m serious about my feelings. ILU, Playboy28. U know this runs deeper than just dirty talk on some chat program.
Playboy28: I’m serious about meeting. It’s time you know who I am.
LevonRocks: You’ve always had an unfair advantage, stalker. LOL.
Playboy28: Now. Tonight. In your dressing room. There is one hour before the show. I don’t want to scare you, but I have access to backstage.
LevonRocks: In love…but not scared. Besides, security is everywhere.
Playboy28: I work for the band. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now.
LevonRocks:It’s okay. I’ve sensed you holding back in our conversations. Maybe once I get you in my arms, you’ll open up to me.
Playboy28: Two knocks, and you’ll know it’s me.
Luckily there was a restroom nearby that Reed ducked into, knowing that he needed to kill a few minutes before he knocked on Levon’s door. Splashing some water onto his face, he realized it would do little to cool his attraction for the openly gay drummer. What he was feeling went way beyond lust. Reed was in love and had just received confirmation that the feeling was mutual. He was also experiencing excitement, desire, and apprehension as he wondered whether Levon would still love him after he knew the truth.
Adjusting his T-shirt and jeans, Reed gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror, thinking he passed pretty well for a transman. Rachel was gone. She had disappeared ten years ago, at the age of eighteen, when her parents kicked her out of their house because she no longer felt like a woman. That was the day that Reed was born.
Calling his grandmother in tears, he had left the small town of Arkadelphia, Arkansas by Greyhound, going to live at her home in Fayetteville. Before he got on the bus, he had stopped at the barber for a crew cut and visited a thrift store, purchasing masculine clothing. Reed still considered that the first day of his transition to becoming a man. As one of the more LGBTQ-friendly towns in Arkansas, Fayetteville had provided Reed with an opportunity to not only make a few friends, but to find some comfort and support while he explored his new gender identity.
Growing up as a biological female, Reed had always felt that he wasn’t a girly girl. He hadn’t been a butch or a tomboy, but he never had that prom queen persona either. In fact the more he tried to become feminine, the more he hated everything that made him a woman. So, he wasn’t surprised at how much a haircut and masculine clothing had manned him up. From the moment Reed first saw the new reflection in the bus window, he knew he had made the right decision. At five foot ten, with a slender build, short brown hair, and brown eyes, Reed had smiled at the masculine reflection staring back.
As he had continued his transition to a man, Reed became acquainted with terms such as non-op, pre-op, and post-op. He quickly decided that he was pre-op, a transgender who wanted to receive the necessary surgeries and hormones to continue the journey. In getting his first job at a local store’s menswear department, Reed quickly learned that most medical insurances would not pay for what he desired. Top and bottom surgery and routine doses of testosterone looked almost impossible on a minimum-wage salary. Currently, he had saved only half of the money needed for just the surgeries, wondering if he would ever be able to afford even the T shots.
Reed had gained encouragement from a support group he attended during those early years of coming out, as he met some non-op transmen. He learned that everyone transitions in their own way, in their own time, and there are no set rules in changing one’s gender. Out of desperation he realized that being a man meant much more than biological features, something that he reminded himself of today, as he continued to look at his reflection in the mirror.
Even though he had perfected binding to the point of physical comfort, Reed was still not satisfied with the fact that his chest was not as flat as he saw it in his mind. In his reflection he saw a man, a biological male. That gentleman had a smooth, muscular chest and a dick between his legs, not the strap-on that he packed daily. He hated his breasts, monthly cycle, and his cunt. Reed would have been just as happy to sew up the latter himself, because he felt it served him no purpose. He held on to the fact that someday he would be able to complete what he felt was his own personal transition. For now though, he still passed most times, and that gave him a deep sense of belonging.
Sexually, Reed’s orientation had not changed. Even as a female he had been attracted to men, except now he was only attracted to gay males. He wanted no part of what he described as straight sex. Reed had experienced that a handful of times in the backseat of a car when he was sixteen. A few dates after had proved unsuccessful when his secret had been discovered. Actually he was glad, as sometimes he felt like a complicated mess…don’t touch me here…don’t touch there. He hoped desperately that Levon would be the exception.
Since then he hadn’t been intimate with anybody, except his own hand, allowing himself to touch the only two parts of his genitalia that he felt made him as much of a gay man as he dared to call himself, his clit and his ass. After all, the only reason that his clit had failed to fully develop into a penis was because of a lack of testosterone in utero. Many times Reed felt like he was a mix-up of nature.
Returning his mind to Levon, there was a delicious thought. The object of his affections was definitely a hot mess, at six foot three inches tall, with long, straight blond hair, and deep blue eyes. The fact that he was openly gay and proud only made the ache in Reed’s groin worse. Levon screamed homosexual male in a ruggedly handsome sort of way.
Seven months ago, Reed had answered an ad in the local paper for the Fayetteville-based band, looking for sound crew, no experience necessary, room and board, with salary provided. Burnout from working at the same dead-end department store job for the past ten years and loneliness had led to his decision.
Smiling as he washed his hands, Reed remembered the first time he had seen Levon walking down the stairs of Hardcore’s tour bus. Instant attraction. He also recalled not only wanting to know the inner desires of the drummer’s heart, but aching to feel his cock buried inside his ass. A month later, Reed’s attraction had turned into sending the man flowers before every performance. Then four months ago, an accompanying card had given instructions for an online chat program and Reed’s handle, Playboy28. He was surprised that Levon responded, even more amazed at how close they had become in such a short period of time. The drummer was open, honest, and obviously lonely, too. Exiting the restroom, Reed hoped that both of their situations would be remedied by the mutual love they felt.
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