I Love Tits

And today, he has tits.



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Yep. Let me explain this piece of strange to you and you tell me if I'm hallu- cinating or is this shit possible. For some time there has been a flaming queer here in the box. A little, older man with long, straight back hair pulled back into a pony tail. A generally likeable fellow who hangs around with the Gas House Gorillas, Shalima and Kendra.

A very brief description of the Gas House Gorillas. Matthew used to call them 'fags'. Men-like women. Built like truckers. Kendra is huge. She is two people wide, her entire front of her body is composed of two pendulous breasts. Shalima is a stocky female figure. One or two more atoms of testosterone in her bloodstream and she would have been a man. They march around the Box together like two security guards, ready to knock someone's block off.

And with them is this queer guy.

Now I'm not against gay people. Not at all, and I only call them queer because they do it them- selves. But what I can't stand is when they try to hit on me, and this guy was trying. No bullshit. Every time he saw me he made it a point to stop and say hello. He was always in my face wherever I went upstairs. When in the diningroom eating he is always very complimentary. Always quick with the small talk. I know what this is. This is gay flirting. I've had it happen to me before, and then when the time is right they hit on you.

So I made it a point to avoid him. Yeah, he would come from one direction and I would get fucking lost in the other. This worked for me for some time. I don't spend much time with the general population anyway, so it's relatively simple for me to be isolated from the guy.

So you can understand when I walked into the nurses station and there he was standing proud with a pair of tits. Yep, that's right. Breasts in a bra. And not a stuffed bra but a cleavage and everything. The MAN had TITS. At first, I was shocked, and I didn't want to stare, but like a car accident with fatalities you don't want to see the mangled bodies, but you just can't help staring as you drive by. I gawked at him/her like an owl on a limb.

And you would think that he got mad, but no, he was proud and gleaming at the prospect that I found him desirable enough to look at. Now if anything could make me look away in disgust, this was it. I stepped back out of the nurses' station and waited until he left.

Now I ask you. How fast can a man get tits? I don't think he had an operation because Medicaid just doesn't cover those things. Hormone replace- ment? Doesn't that shit take time? A long time before a man develops hips and ass and tits? Now I also know that there a a lot of women out there who might take offense at me calling female mammary glands, tits. I mean, I could be calling them hooters, or fun bags or sweater puppies, or something like that. I mean, I have a dozen of 'em. But here, in this context, they don't belong. They just don't belong on a man!! And so, I call them tits, because they aren't breasts. Breasts are for women. Tits...a man.

Strange logic, I know. But I never said that I was normal.

I think that Aerosmith's song is appropo here. Dood looks like a lady. He now looks more feminine than the Gas House Gorillas, if such a thing was possible. My plan from this point on? Well it hasn't changed in the least. I'm intent on leaving at least ten meters of space between us at all times.

Not that I'm afraid of him.

I just can't stand it when they hit on you.

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