I eventually got tired and sat on a bench. I was near a park and could hear children playing. Then something hit me on the back of my head. "'Sup s...it head." I hear the familiar voice say, I know instantly who this is. It was Derek, my best friend slash drug dealer. He was a good guy, he just ran his mouth too much. "Bitch," I say, "What are you doing here?" "I can ask you the same! Eric, we are like five miles from campus and you don't have a car!" he laughs out like it was the. I thought being dressed up wasemasculating...but that was nothing...NOTHING compared to seeing myself asI was, having to face that even without the clothes, even without themakeup, I still made a fairly fuckable sissy. Now that I was silky smoothand naked, Dale had me as his own personal canvas, and little shit that heis, he was only interested in scrawling graffiti.The worst part, and its funny how subjective 'worst' gets after awhile,was that he made me come up with the slurs he scrawled on. More

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