MY GIRL, MY BOY, MY ENBY

Annabeth Leong

Today I want you to be my girl, the text message said.

I scowled at my phone in a way I never would have done to Rory’s face. I had already slicked back my hair. Waiting for me on my bed were dress pants, a pressed white shirt, and my favorite tie. I’d been planning to go boy today.

Do I haaave to? I typed back.

Extra vowels are whining, not a safeword. So yes.

Damn it.

Rory didn’t mind back talk, as long as it was accompanied by obedience. I went over to my closet to figure out how to handle the change.

The hair could stay, I decided. The tie, too, because I liked it. I put on the white shirt but left my binder off. I swapped out the dress pants for a pair of orange shorts and accessorized with dangly earrings and some sparkly rings. Voila. Girl enough.

I snapped a picture for Rory, and I had to admit I felt pretty and coy. What do you want your girl to do?

Girls just wanna have fun.

I pouted. Fun? That was the worst command of all, the very hardest, something I would never choose on my own. All day?

Yes. The park. The ice-cream store. A treat for yourself to keep. And an orgasm at the end.

What are you even getting out of this?

Haha. Bratty girl.

I did as I was told, as best I could. I walked around the park uncertainly. I managed to order a small ice cream, and I almost enjoyed eating it. After visiting four stores, I found a weird little magnet made by a local artist, painted with colors that matched my girl-mood well.

Then I went home, undid my shirt and shorts, and lay on the bed for the orgasm.

I nestled my audio recorder on the pillow next to my head, then began to touch myself.

I coaxed the pleasure out of my body, slowly, sweetly, gently.

After I finished, I played the recording for myself before sending it to Rory. My breaths sounded a little surprised. My moans were soft, the pitch of my voice high. I came with a full-body exhale. It was the sound of sinking deep into welcoming mattresses.

I attached the audio file to a text. Being a girl wasn’t so bad.

Today I want you to be my boy.

The instruction couldn’t have come at a better time. This was a day when I wouldn’t have known what I was otherwise, when I needed Rory to help me out by defining me, to give me enough of a push so I could put clothes on and get out the door.

I pulled on boxers, made my binder nice and tight, picked out low-slung jeans that hung off my hips, and added a boxy short-sleeve button-up. I didn’t want Rory’s boy to look careless, so I drew on a little eyeliner and put a unicorn-shaped stud in my left earlobe. How do you like that?

Very much.

And?

And I want my boy sweaty.

Do I get to come today?

Like a cherry on top.

Oh, that last instruction made me feel mischievous. It begged to be taken literally.

I texted Paula. You free tonight and horny?

LOL. Why?

I called her and explained, and that led to me with my pants and boxers pushed down to my ankles in her kitchen after work, crack lubed, Paula slowly feeding a thick plug into my ass—with a handle shaped like a cherry, which I’d remembered from a previous playdate.

Next thing was to get on top and get sweaty, and I made very sure Paula enjoyed that process. I didn’t even think about coming until she was begging for mercy, cursing me out, and swearing her clit was too sensitive to take any more.

Then I tried to shock my own pleasure out of myself, hard and fast, and Paula was nice enough to reach around at just the right moment, smartphone in hand, and capture a short video of my asscheeks pulsing rhythmically around that bright-red cherry handle.

Today I want you to be my enby.

My heart leapt in my chest. This command came from Rory so rarely, but these were the days when sex was about neither holes nor sticking things in holes. It became creative and other, and something Rory liked to do in person.

I put on a ruffled skirt over unshaven legs. I rolled a lacy camisole on over my binder. I used glittery eye makeup but left my lips natural. From the back of my closet, I pulled out my heaviest, most ass-kicking boots.

I rushed to Rory’s place like genders were ice-cream flavors. I’d picked up one of each, and I needed to get them all into Rory’s mouth before they melted.

Rory opened the door. They didn’t get into costuming the way I did, so they wore simple black. Jeans, T-shirt, eyeliner. Long black hair tied at the back of their neck.

I spilled into the door, kissing everywhere I could reach. Rory let me for a few minutes, then reasserted their control.

“Down,” Rory said. I dropped to the floor like a dog, not bothering to look around the space. I’d been over to Rory’s apartment a couple dozen times in a couple of years, and I always left with only the vaguest impressions of walls, floors, and furniture. Rory was all I ever looked at.

“Put me in your lap and brush my hair for a while,” Rory said.

We did it right there in the narrow foyer. Their hair was so soft. I lifted the brush to my nose after every few strokes to smell their shampoo and their scalp. Rory moaned and writhed and smiled blissfully. They rubbed my crotch with the back of their head. They slid their hands underneath my skirt and gripped my thighs with sharp fingernails, making me gasp and tense.

Then their eyes turned catlike, cold and green, and they said, “I’m going to tickle you now, until you can’t breathe.”

They pushed me onto my back, dug into my ribs and my armpits and the vulnerable places behind my knees and the points of my hips. They let me feel their weight. They shoved their thigh between my legs to hold me in place. When I cried out, they winked, and did everything harder.

I know people who wouldn’t call that sex, who would say this wasn’t like what I’d done with myself as a girl or what I’d done with Paula as a boy, but those things had only been sex for me because they were for Rory, and now I was Rory’s enby and my head floated and my heart filled and my body surrendered and nothing could have felt more intimate.

I lost my breath. My toes pointed. My muscles went stiff. I spasmed everywhere, not just in the traditionally sexy parts. Then Rory and I gave each other goofy grins, and as soon as we recovered enough to move, we went into the bedroom and did it all again.