AUTUMN CHANGES
(The Unofficial Autobiography of Red Jordan Arobateau) Vol. I
1998:


Jasmin, my wife has informed me she’s going to leave me--as soon as she can save enough money.

The bottom falls out of my guts.

Trannies suggest we adopt the song STAND BY YOUR MAN by the country western singer, for all spouses and friends of transpeople.--A lot of them will leave us, its a fact.

And liberal straights don’t know what to make of us.--Those who accepted us as gay--they’re not prepared for this new transformation. And become strangely silent--and turn their heads away now, when we walk into the room.

I have pushed myself fully into the bosom of life--so I’m out here, free falling.

Consent Form: General Health Care

City and County of San Francisco.

Financial Status: Soon to be homeless.

Every non-trans who is aware of our situation believes Red has gone insane. A notice for eviction is tacked on their front door by the landlord. He is receiving free sex-change medication at the clinic.

Then the check for $8,000 arrives.

A consent form for the bilateral mastectomy sits on his desk.--He’s going thru with top surgery. No one can stop him!

His wife is hysterical--pulling the hair out of her head in agony!--Only $1,200 will be left after the operation--he could pay the rent for 8 months!--But he’s stubborn! He wants those two unwanted lumps of flesh removed! Flesh he’s been binding & hiding & them since his first agonizing puberty 40 years ago.

He must do it! He can’t wait! He knows he will probably never have this large sum of money intact again.--He and his wife will fritter it away on stuff. He must act selfishly! Boldly!

The wife will never understand the depth of this emergency--because she’s not trans; just a lezzie.


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1960:
“Nigger bitch, yer the color of piss. Yuh got yellah skin--like a chink. Shore yer not part chink?”

“Bobbie says you felt that mans dick her in the club, right there at the tables. Says you put your hand in-between his legs and gave him a hand job; and Carl didn’t stop you like he does us because the guy is straight. And all he gave you was drinking money, the cheap fuck!”

“Bobbie says yer woman whose dead? That she shot herself over you not treating her right. Everybody thinks Reba killed herself over you!”

“FUCK YOU BOBBIE ! BOBBIE YER A DEMENTED CUNT! BOBBIE DROVE HER GIRL TO GO WORK FOR THE MAFIA! NOW CAROL’S A SYNDICATE SLAVE! SHE’LL NEVER GET FREE OF THEM UNTIL SHE’S OLD AND UGLY! AND I DID NOT GIVE THAT GUY A HAND JOB IN THE SILVER SADDLE ! I SAT ON HIS LAP ‘CAUSE THERE WEREN’T ANY CHAIRS! AND HE GAVE ME $10 PLUS BOUGHT ME DRINKS BECAUSE HE’S MY FRIEND! SO FUCK YOU!”

“Everybody says yer part nigger! Is it true? I can’t stand niggers! Every time they start coming to our bars the police wind up closing the place down permanent!”

“I DID SO TREAT REBA RIGHT! I LOVED HER AND PUT UP WITH HER PUNCHING ME & SCRATCHING ME WITH THOSE LONG FINGERNAILS AND PUT UP WITH HER FITS & CRYING MOODS RIGHT UP TO THE END! AND I’M NOT A NIGGER! I’M ONE PART NEGRO AND PART INDIAN AND PART WHITE! NOT THAT IT’S ANYBODY'S BUSINESS! SO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

“WHAT’S HIS NAME IF HE’S YER FRIEND!”

“I FORGET!”

“YER A NIGGER! NIGGER! NIGGER!”

“FUCK YOU YOU FREAKEN BITCH! YOU WASN’T CALLEN’ ME NAMES LAST MONTH WHEN I WAS BUYEN’ YUH YER FUCKEN’ DRINKS! I HATE YOU BITCH!”

“YOU DID SO JERK THAT GUY OFF UNDER THE TABLE AT THE SILVER SADDLE!”

“WHADDA YUH CARE ABOUT IT! I BOUGHT ALL OF YOUSE FREAKEN BROADS DRINKS AND NOW CAROL’S RUN OFF NOBODY’S BUYEN YOU NO FRIGGEN DRINKS BOBBIE, SO FUCK YOU! THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY MY KINDNESS--YOU TAKE IT FOR WEAKNESS! I’LL KILL YOU IF I EVER GET THE CHANCE!”

“GO AHEAD ‘N KILL ME THEN! I WANT TO DIE! I DON’T WANT TO LIVE ON THIS UGLY PLANET NO MORE!”

And Bobbie lays her face down on the table & begins to hit glasses & bottles off onto the floor, screaming and bangs her head down onto the wet table top over and over.

Two womanless dikes going at each other--ripping out each others throats; ‘cause neither one of them has nothing to loose.
AUTUMN CHANGES
(The Unofficial Autobiography of Red Jordan Arobateau) Vol. II
When daddy finishes, his shirt is wet with sweat from the temperature inside this ill-ventilated prison day room. He pushes his bitch off his pin-stripped trousered knee; she slides to the floor; collapses at his feet. Daddy stands, a grin of accomplishment on his face. Like a giant he looms over her, surveying her body a moment, then squats down, bends over her, and boldly pushes apart her thighs; using two fingers he enters her vagina, pushes in quickly, then begins a rapid fire assault upon her soft cunt, grunting with effort.

“FEEL MY FUCK! FEEL IT! FEEL IT!”

His bitch moans, groans, tosses her head back and forth, but obediently receives her fuck. Her bottom glows red from the spanking, and now, she’s being further humiliated--fucked like a pig on the cement jailhouse floor.

“FEEL MY FUCK BITCH! FEEL IT! IT FEELS GOOD DON’T IT BITCH! YUH DIDN’T THINK I’D LET YUH GET OFF SO EASY DID YUH! TAKE MY FUCK BITCH! THERE! UH UH UH UH UH HUH! TAKE MY FUCK BITCH! JUST LIKE YUH TOOK YER WHUPPEN’! I’LL WHUP YUH AND FUCK YUH TOO! I’LL WHUP YUH AND FUCK YUH AND KICK YER ASS AND DO ANYTHING I PLEASE TO YOU BITCH! YER MY PROPERTY AND I’M YER MASTER! FUCK ! FUCK! FUCK! FEEL MY FUCK BITCH! FEEL IT GOOD!”


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1966:
Red strides into the bar clean & sober from his jailhouse stint; so he can see the place--much more stark then when loaded.

Condemned to live in this barroom with broken floors. His life is to be here--no other place to be gay.

His life being here among criminals; gay women who boast of being in the penitentiary; and the others who just stop by for a while then run off scared, and don’t come back again for weeks, until their hearts and aching cunts inside went panties starved for a woman, compel them.

Forced to be a sexual outcast by the greater society which criminalizes them; considered at that point to be degenerates or insane by doctors, police, churches, schools, lawmakers; our label was not gay. There aren’t any gay groups, caucuses, gathering points, dating services, newspapers, books, music. Nothing. A few rumored bathhouses for the men; some secret circle of women which no dikes can find. I just remember back now, that I was suppose to die out. Our tribe of unwanted outlaws. Driven away--scattered by the law.

“Where’s everybody?”

“Where you been girlie? Ain’t yuh heard? Coppers been busting all the clubs. Every night they came thru, check ID’s, haul in the butch broads, take their girls in on suspicion of prostitution. Now ain’t that a laugh! Wasn’t none of that going on in here! You kids was all that use to come in! Them fairy boys was the only men, and nobody was over 30 years old! Just a trumped up charge the coppers used. Ah girlie, I hate to have to tell yuh, but the joint ain’t queer no more. Couldn’t get none of you kids to come back in... So we turned it into a regular place... Now it’s regular guys & dames. I’m warnen’ yuh fer yer own good.. A lot of ‘em don’t appreciate a butch broad hanging around. Yer one of the good kids, yuh never gave me no lip. It ain’t yuh personal, but yer gonna have to go. Fer yer own sake.”


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2000:
Time is slipping further & further away from this point; but at some station along our travels as a queer people maybe in the mid-1970’s, most of us could say they started the beginnings of their gay social lives by crossing miles of city streets or barren countryside’s to come to a gay bar or coffee shop or dirty bookstand, that was ‘lavender.’ ‘Funny that way.’ To meet others of our kind. Because we are only 1 &1/2 to 2% of the human population. Fewer & further between. And in addition, that 2% is criminalized. And so we’d come together in bars with bare floorboards--dives set up with rows of sparkling liquor bottles on a deserted side street--to avoid the scrutiny of cops or thugs or self-righteous average citizens who might file a complaint. And in red plush carpeted bars in war-zone red-light districts catching stolen moments--bars just like this.

Transman sat on a cracked vinyl covered barstool ion silent shock. There would be no gay wild party here tonight. He was relegated to his silent welfare room; or to walk under the starry night, until her found a type of alternative bar where artists went, musicians; where there was race mixing, and odd characters, though mostly straight, but who provided a camouflage environment into which a queer might slip, less observed; and perhaps meet up with another fellow traveler; a queer woman who’d let him hold her in his arms--for that night if no longer; but what an elusive chance that was--an onconstent dream, seldom materializing-


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AUTUMN CHANGES
(The Unofficial Autobiography of Red Jordan Arobateau) Vol. III
1998:
Early dawn. Outside thru the corridor of air the downtown buildings take on definition, depth, and come out of their flattened state of pitch-black night.

Transman goes in his secret closet & masturbates to nasty pictures of a woman getting her breasts sucked.


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He held his fortress together.--Consisting of his paints and easel; the diary, this table, typewriter and books; storage locker, their mailing address & voice mail, whereby he could be contacted by the great art galleries dealers and powerbrokers of the world: held onto it like a castle. Kept up the walls & roof by earning money on the kapitalist slave market, and there in labored log hours to get accomplished as much as he could before some mythical ax would fall--the police Fascist state whisk him away to be reprogrammed in prison or mental institution, or his death at the hands of bullies & thugs on the street-or the end of the country itself, Amerika on fire! Worked into the tiny hours of dawn in a feverish intensity in this manner piling up as many painted canvasses as possible--before the walls of disillusionment break in; crashing waves of the world..

He had fantasies until the top of his head blew off.

Pausing from his work inside the 4 close yellowed walls to stomp; killing roaches whenever possible.


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2001:
The constant roar of traffic from the freeway overpass above us twisting & turning cement ramps. Wind. Dust. Whine of truck wheels perpetual motion. So now we are here. Reduced to the last remnants in poverty; visiting our storage locker daily for supplies. The van has been tore-down to a decrepit state by housing our dogs for a year. They pissed, clawed, chewed; turned their own bedding to rags, then ruined both the drivers & passengers seats. Chewing off the plastic seat covers then clawing up the foam padding, so the sets are now just flat iron chairs with springs sticking out and we must line them with cardboard & newspaper.

He slept fitfully at the underpass; dusty wind in his lungs; so it was difficult to focus on the lines of patrons names and phone numbers at his job, or to stay awake when the nights went slow.


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It’s all man & woman; butch over femme. But, she is an adventurous girl.. After their first big bang she plies him with bottled water and gives him a long deep muscle massage as he lays, stretched out on his stomach naked but for his tee shirt & boots. Then makes a delicious proposition...

The lights are dim. An urgent music’s rhythm pounds low in the background. With soft words she convinces him to take off his tee shirt & binder. “My butch does it all the time baby, it doesn’t make you any less of a man....He loves to have me caress his breasts and enter him...” She continues to stroke his skin; her long brown hair floats over her pale shoulders. Finally, he relents. “OK.” He mutters, his mouth pressed into the sheets. “Yeah .. yuh can do it.”

“OH BOY!” She can barely conceal her pleasure! And swiftly works her painted fingertips deeper under his body at his sides, until finally she cups his large tits in both her hands. She lays on top of him, licking his neck, squeezing his tits, fondling his nipples, as bolts of red-hot ecstasy shoot into his groin.

Duefully Transman rolls over; lays on his back, faces up at the ceiling; surrenders power to this Ultra Femme. Sheepishly he submits, as carefully she works the head of one of her penis-look-alike dildos in his pussylips. “I’ll be gentle honey, tell me when I can go in you. Oh I know if feels so goood.....Tell me how good I feel baby..” She adds, wickedly.

“God, you so feel so good...” Transman roans.--Slowly she aims the meaty cock at his pussyhole & pushes in. He lays under her, being fucked & having his tits sucked just like a broad--and devours pleasure like a pig!

She lays over him, propped up on one elbow, feeling up his breasts with one hand, while she continues to stroke her tool in & out of his hot steaming pussy; bending to suck alternately one of his hard brown nipples, then the other. Her face is made-up still--blue/green eye shadow, mascara, red lips--despite their passionate lovemaking; all woman. “Does my penis feel good inside you baby? Tell me!” The femme demands, in a soft voice.

“Awww yeah! Your dick is so hard, god! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Dim lights around the small bedroom; they are shadow figures together. “Rodrigo. My name is Rodrigo.” The femme coos. “Call me by my name. Tell me how good my penis feels inside your pussy.”

“Awww yeah! Rodrigo! Fuck me! Fuck me good Rodrigo! You’re a master! You really know what your doin’ with that thing!”

“With what thing baby? My penis?”

“Yes! Yes Rodrigo!” Fuck me with your hard cock! Don’t stop!”

Rodrigo works his tool inside him; fucking expertly; while continuing to feel & squeeze his tits. His pretty face looms over Transman, while his driving tool, rock hard, works in & out of his squishy wet cunt. They both can hear the sucking slaps of his fuck; strokes growing more rapid as Transman moans, arching to meet the assault--which propels him over the threshold of orgasm! A long clock-winding climax lasting a full minute. ‘OHHHHHHH AHHHHH! UHHHHHH! UUUUUHHHHHH! UHHHHHHHAAAAAA!” Red’s guttural groans send momentary shock-waves thru the mellow atmosphere. Then their fuck subsides. It’s over.

Transman lays on his back, skin wet and goose-pimply with sweat.

Rodrigo smiles knowingly, as he puts away his toys with scented hands; until the next time they would be used for play. A faint smile remains on his pink lips.

And he was such a lady!
Excerpts


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