My eyes widened as I took in myreflection.How was this possible? I was shockingly androgynous-looking. My leotardlent a sleek, feminine silhouette to ...y body and my slightly overgrownhair could easily pass as a shaggy pixie cut. I blinked in confusion.Had my face always been so round and soft looking? I shook my head.Something about the lights in here, maybe. The thrill of standing soclose to a beautiful girl, her hands on my shoulders as we admiredourselves in tight, shiny leotards was making. Michael stood at five nine with slightly tanned skin and a muscular tone. He had a clock work tattoo in the center of his chest and two wings on his shoulder blades. His boxer briefs clung tightly to him leaving very little to her imagination. He looked up at her and smiled, ‘Figured the kitchen would be the best place so I didn’t get your carpet wet.’ She blushed hard as her eyes scanned over his body, she walked over the counter and turned her head as she handed him the towel. He wrapped. It was the fifth of May, I remember that detail clearly, not only because of the events of the day itself, but also because it was the day after my mother's funeral.It's hard to write about it, even after all this time. She had died of lung cancer, too many cigarettes, I guess; no one knew about it until afterward of course, she had been like that- never wanting to upset or worry anybody.I suppose it doesn't really matter, like I said, she died just before The End. I suppose the only reason I. In the morning sunlight, on the temple wall, there above the entrance, I could read out a Sanskrit sloka, engraved in Tamil-Brahmi script:Vandhaegurusthanam sukhayoanisaagaram |Lingaamrthapriyam ABHIKAAMI maatharam ||This, with my acquired skill in that language, roughly translates,I worship the plump-breasted, the pleasure-ocean-cunt possessor |The cock-nectar lover, the son-desiring mother || I was astonished. It was unbelievable. A temple constructed to worship the son-fucking mother as a.