Sexual Desire and Writing

Wasn't it Joni Mitchel that said you don't know what you got 'til it's gone?  Or was that Linkin Park?  Or Monica?  Or... okay, I'm sure it was a cool lyric, but I'm talking about me and... I guess sexual desire?  It's complicated.  A quick warning, this is personal.  If you're a regular reader here, then you've read stuff like this before, but if you're just interested in my writing stuff, this might get more personal that you thought you'd read.  It's going to talk about my sexuality, my sexual experiences, masturbation, and sexual energy.  If you don't want to know about those things in relations to me, then stop and go read Just Dance or Gamer Gurl or something else.  If you do want to know about how this all comes together... step inside a trip into my mind and soul. 

There are a lot of layers to something like this.  Sexuality isn't just a simple thing.  If you think it is... well what the fuck are you doing here at a queer person's secondary blog where they talk about personal issues but also talk about the forced feminization and transgendered erotica that they write/create?  

Seriously though, we've got physical, psychological, spiritual, and other aspects of sexuality.  I might be all over the place in this post, and I apologize about it but I want to make sure I define what I need to define so we're all on the same page and then describe what I was, what I went through, and what I am coming to be.  

So... lets go with some basics first.  Male and Female?  If you believe there's only two genders then the door is right over there and you can kindly get the fuck out.  I'm all out of patience for people that can't understand the spectrum of sexuality.  Most people know Male, Female, and more recently Trans Male and Trans Female.  Some know Intersex, and then more derogatory terms like Hermaphrodite.  I'm not talking about sexual attraction, although I'll get into that, I'm talking about gender.  Biologically, most humans are born male or female.  Penis or vagina.  If we go back far enough into the womb or into genetics, we all start out as girls but some change into boys.  But psychologically, spiritually, mentally, gender is more than just the bit of flesh between my legs.  But if you're going to know me, you need to know my journey.  I was born male.  A boy.  I was raised in a fairly conservative area of the midwest by fairly free thinking parents.  But they were also people of their time, raising me in the 70s and 80s.  Transgender?  Hell, I don't think the word 'homosexual' was common as those people were just called gaybirds.  My parents weren't being mean, they were just raised in an era that didn't accept that and they were never put into a position to think more deeply about it.  They accepted societies position at the time and therefore used that platform to raise me.  

By the time I got to high school in the late 80s and early 90s, I realized I was not a straight cis male.  Of course I didn't have the vocabulary to define that properly.  I knew I wasn't a pure homosexual, but bisexual didn't seem to fit either.  I had sex with one girl in high school because... well, because that's what guys were expected to do.  I felt you should fall in love with a girl before you make love, but I didn't want to be left behind in my social circles so I found a girl, took her out a few times, had sex, then dumped her.  I'm embarrassed about it now, but... it's what happened and I won't shy away from my past.  Anyway, spoiler alert, that's the last time I've had what we will collectively call sex.  

In high school and college I found TG fiction.  In retrospect, a lot of it was forced cross dressing, but there was full transformations through technology and/or magic.  I struggled for a long time on what exactly I desired.  Like most young 'men' I had a LOT of sexual desire.  I could masturbate several times a day and still feel fully loaded and ready to go.  Worrying about tenting my pants when an attractive woman was around was an honest concern.  But while I didn't exactly lust after men, I did have sexual desires toward men.  I just framed them in 'forced' scenarios.  Think of it like a rape fantasy that many women have.  No, these women don't want to be raped, but the 'forced' aspect allows their subconscious to be a little more free.  Similar with me, the 'forced' aspect allows me to have the sexual fantasy of sex with a man. 

But, unlike homosexual fantasies, when I fantasize about sex with a man, I'm feminine.  Not necessarily a woman... that more specific fantasy came later... but feminized.  To me, realism was a big thing which meant it couldn't ever happen to me.  During this time in my life I was 6'4 (yes, shrinking as we age is real and I'm only 6'2 now) and between 280 and 360 pounds.  I mention the weight because I have the masculine body frame to carry that weight.  Yeah, I still quite the fatty, but my shoulders are broad, my hips are thinner but big.  I can carry that weight like a man.  There are women that are shaped like that, but at best they'd be called masculine, and at worst they'd be called ugly. It's not polite, but I wasn't exactly thinking in polite terms.  

A quick aside, I've never considered myself attractive.  This has nothing to do with sexuality and more with general shape.  My face is crooked.  My chin is more inset than rugged.  My cheekbones are practically non-existent.  For the longest time I didn't really have a neck, my chin just slowly melted into my chest.  I've lost a lot of weight and I believe I look 'okay' now, but my unattractiveness isn't just a weight issue.  I never imagined myself as an unattractive woman, but I'd imagine myself an attractive woman.  I mention all that because it's not part of the sexuality, that's just a part of me that wants to be attractive.  When I imagine myself with a woman, when I am feeling masculine, I imagine myself as an attractive man and technically that would require just about as much transformation as me becoming a woman.  

So, all of these things going through my head in my twenties and thirties were confusing.  I believe in my subconscious it kept me away from seeking out relationships.  I'd justify it in many different ways, but there is a deeper psychological need for pairing up that most people feel and I had a psychological force working against that.  You see, I'd see a woman and be attracted to her.  Just not all the time.  If I fantasized about her specifically, it would sometimes involve me making love to her as a man but just as often it would be the two of us making love to two men.  After she feminized me.  The men wouldn't realize I was a 'man' and I'd have to play along.  It was that 'forced' aspect so it naturally felt shameful.  Wrong.  So I wouldn't approach her. I wouldn't seek her out or try to go out with her.  

When I came into making captioned images back in 2009, it helped me work through a lot of issues.  I still called myself a straight man that simply had a dark fantasy of being forcibly transformed.  I'd say that I didn't want that in real life but at the same time, it was the majority of my sexual fantasies.  At some point, it became almost all of my sexual fantasies.  I rarely masturbated thinking I was making love to a woman.  Instead, I'd masturbate imagining I was giving oral sex to a man or increasingly being taken anally by a man.  I don't know exactly when it transitioned, but I know some of it was due to privacy concerns and not simply the physicality of it.  But the physicality of it certainly helped.  Masturbating changed.  

Traditional masturbation with a penis is to grip the penis, once it's hard, into your hand and to stroke it up and down.  Sometimes you can lube it up (lotion, spit, whatever...) but I normally would do it in the shower or just 'dry'.  The problem is that you need some good privacy for this.  The shower is fine, but I only shower once a day and at this time, I'd masturbate several times a day.  Getting alone time at the computer when I could watch my porn wasn't the easiest thing to do.  I learned that when I had the time, I could lessen my chances of having someone walk in on me by watching the porn before I pulled myself out of my pants, only to pull myself out at the last minute.  It would only take a few strokes that way.  Cum into my hand or a wad of tissues, clean up, tuck back in, and no one was the wiser (I'm sure they were the wiser, they're brothers and we all recognized what was going on with each other).  

What changed is that during that build up while I had porn on my screen and was hard in my pants, I'd rub on myself through my pants.  You know, to build up.  Well, if you build up enough, are aroused enough, or mentally push yourself into a more aroused state, you can orgasm without the standard 'penis in fist' stroking.  It didn't take long for that kind of masturbation to become the norm.  I'd say at this point in my life, even though I have FAR more privacy, it's been ten plus years since I gripped my penis in that way.  Instead I watch my porn, lean back in my chair, and rub myself through my pants.  It's not exactly masturbating like a girl, but it's closer than traditionally masturbating like a man.  

About six years ago I tried to explore and define what I was.  I'd been a nurse for years and had dealt with the medical and psychiatric side of trans genderism.  I'd thought it through and knew that I wasn't the traditional 'woman in a mans body'.  I wasn't a trans woman. I did experience some gender dysphoria, where my body felt wrong, but it wasn't consistent.  There was plenty of time that my body felt right.  That if felt correct being masculine.  You can read about my definition here but in short, I decided that the best term that fit me mentally and physically was Queer.  Not man, not woman, but gender queer.  Other terms that would work are Gender Non-Conforming, and Gender Fluid.  I don't like either of those terms, and there isn't a good accepted term for what I am.  But then again, with our society we still have half the people not even accepting trans men or trans women, so how could I expect them to support the naming of a gender between man, trans man, woman, and trans woman?  

I also consider my sexual attraction to be Queer.  Not homosexual as I'm not attracted to men when I'm masculine.  I'm not attracted to women when I'm feminine.  I'm not bisexual or pansexual because I'm only attracted to one gender at a time.  Heterosexual would almost fit, but you'd have to accept and understand that my starting point of male/female/queer would define who I'm attracted to.  And it's not like there's a indicator light on my forehead to let you know what I'm feeling internally.  

As for pronouns or how I present myself, those are complex societal issues that I might write about one day.  Suffice it to say that I choose to go by he/him and I present myself as traditionally male... maybe with a bit of feminine flair.  But I don't shave my body hair off, wear women's clothes, wear makeup, or paint my nails. I'd like to do all of those things, but I don't.  Again... complicated and deserving of a post all it's own.  This post is about sexual desire.  

That was six years ago and I'm still comfortable with that definition.  And that comfort, I believe, has shown itself in my sexual desire.  If anything, my desire increased.  I was no longer struggling inwardly.  It didn't feel wrong AT ALL to have fantasies about being a woman.  After decades of having forced and/or humiliation fantasies, those were still a big part of my sexual fantasies, but I didn't NEED those.  I'd just as often fantasize about having sex as a woman or a feminized man voluntarily and happily.  

I think the biggest outward aspect of this internal change was my creative outlet.  Before, I focused on caps.  I was sliding into some longer 'Obscura' type posts, but it was still shorter fiction that couldn't even really be defined as short stories.  After that revelation, I started to focus on longer and longer fictionalized content.  I still did caps and short Obscuras but the Obscuras got longer.  I started tumblr posts that were longer.  And I started my longer form stories.  I believe part of that was I had a more complex mental story to tell.  I needed more room sometimes for a happier ending.  People accepting the change that happened.  

Now if you can do the year math you realize that this queer realization came in 2019.  What happened in 2020?  Oh, nearly the end of civilization with the pandemic.  As a nurse and a nurse in prison in particular, life became difficult.  And after a few years of that, my migraines just blew up.  Again, if you've followed along you kind of know that timeline but the migraines go so bad that I thought they were just a manifestation of the stress I was feeling at work.  So I decided to change jobs.  When that new job, which was a LOT easier than my prison job, didn't fix the migraines and in fact the migraines just got worse, I eventually had to leave work as there were more days in a month that I couldn't work than when I could.  

That was late summer 2023.  I said at that time that I didn't know if I could last two years of that life.  Dealing with the migraines was so difficult.  It honestly made me feel like a different person.  I had memory issues (i.e. I'd forget portions of days if not entire days).  I was socially isolated because I couldn't make plans.  I tried to live as robust a life as I could but traveling was difficult, visiting with friends was painful, and all I had to talk about was my migraines.  No one wants to hear about that.  

It turns out that I couldn't even last a full year like that.  Around the time that I lost Tiffany to spilled milk, my depression got the best of me.  A few definitions here so that I can be specific.  Suicidal thoughts are when you are wanting to commit suicide.  Suicidal ideation is when you think about suicide even if you don't want to commit suicide.  I was firmly in the suicidal ideation phase.  I couldn't stop thinking about HOW I'd commit suicide.  

To lay out how that thinking worked, I knew I would want to hurt my family as little as possible.  Shooting myself with a gun while effective, would be horrific to find.  It might be impossible to have an open casket and that would be devastating to my mom and maybe to my brothers.  I'm a nurse with medical knowledge and I'm on a LOT of medication.  Including insulin.  I could overdose fairly easily.  But it wouldn't be fast and I'd likely go into seizures before I died.  Maybe even hours before I died.  That could lead to discovery which would be bad.  So, I could gather up my drugs, pack them into a car (and yes, that was one of the reasons I 'needed' to have my own car after I lost Tiffany... in order to be able to commit suicide) and drive to a fairly isolated area.  I was thinking of a couple large abandoned parking lots.  One behind an old factory, one behind an old movie theater.  Very few people go back to those locations, so I could be there for hours without interruption.  I'd write a letter to my family saying good bye and saying everything else that needed to be said and put it on my computer.  I'd then set up texts to my brothers and mother to go out twelve hours after I took the suicidal dose of medication.  I'd make sure my phone was plugged in and the text would include my location, and the password to my computer so they could locate the longer letter.  

That's difficult to write out now, even though I don't have those thoughts.  Between July and November of 2024 those thoughts kept intruding on my day. I'd think a part of that plan through for minutes or even hours, before I could shut them down and force myself to think I DO NOT WANT TO DIE.  But I knew deep down that if I kept thinking that way, if I kept piece by piece making that plan, that I'd finish it.  And if I finished it, it would only be a matter of time before I felt low enough that I'd put the plan into motion.  And once started.... there wouldn't really be any stopping it.  

I sought help.  I initially talked to my neurologist who recommended therapy or medication.  I chose therapy as I was sick and tired of medications.  On my first visit with a therapist, he recommended medication.  I then went to my general practitioner and he changed my meds around a bit, scheduled a follow up, and gave me a referral to a mental health specialist.  I saw him for the follow up where he changed the meds again and then I saw the mental health nurse practitioner.  I believe it was on the second visit with her that the meds came out right and we ended up on the doses that I'm on now.  20mg of Paxil every day and 300mg of Wellbutrin XL every day.  

They elevated my mood.  Significantly.  This depression wasn't quickly arrived at.  It's not like I was happy go lucky in May of 2024.  Or even happy in Autumn of 2023.  Or Spring of 2023.  Or 2022.  It had been building up for years.  But the majority of that was wiped away between November and January and changing years of depression in a matter of months was AMAZING!  I'd pay any price, do any task, forego any pleasure to get this relief.  

It turns out there is a price.  Side effects.  And here's where we roll into the4 gist of this post.  

In general antidepressants can cause sexual side effects, including decreased libido, difficulty achieving arousal or orgasm, and erectile dysfunction.  These are particularly acute with Paxil.  Since starting the Paxil, I've experienced all of these.  Decreased libido, difficulty achieving arousal and orgasm, and erectile dysfunction.  This isn't the easiest thing to talk to a health professional in the best of circumstances.  And as I mentioned in my previous posts about my nurse practitioner, she's an attractive young woman.  Decades younger than me.  She's easily qualified and good at her job, but theres something truly disturbing about telling a young attractive woman "Hey, I can't get it up any longer even though I still feel some mental arousal.  And even when I do get physical arousal and can get it up, I have difficulty achieving orgasm."  

Part of that is the knowledge of what that discussion would lead to.  It's not just talking about sexual desires in general.  It would mean opening up more to a health professional about these deep inner feelings and truths.  About my queerness, about my isolation, about my lack of physical sex.  About my masturbation.  Possibly, but probably not, about my fantasies.  To.  An.  Attractive.  Young.  Woman.  

And again... go up a few paragraphs.  "I'd pay any price, do any task, forego any pleasure to get this relief."

Yes, we could try different medications.  Paxil isn't the only medication in it's group, although it's the best with obsessive thoughts (and I do have trouble with obsessive thoughts even while on it).  Yes, we could try different dosing.  But any of these attempts could lead to the depression coming back.  Maybe not all at once, maybe not as bad.... but I don't want that depression anywhere near me ever again.  And again... "I'd pay any price, do any task, forego any pleasure to get this relief."

So, how exactly does this manifest itself.  Well, as with any habit you have over 35 years, it's difficult to give up on masturbation.  Seriously, even as I got into my late 40s and my body started to naturally slow down, I'd average masturbating more than once a day.  Sometimes once, sometimes twice, sometimes three times.  Rarely would I NOT masturbate on any given day.  That habit, that desire to seek out and obtain that pleasure is still there in the abstract.  It's not like I didn't enjoy it.  Sure, it's not like I was proud of the fact of how much I masturbated.  I wouldn't jump up on the rooftop and shout it to the heavens.  But I got pleasure from it and know that that kind of physical pleasure is on Maslow's hierarchy of psychological needs, right up there with a need to feel safe.  Most people have sexual partners, I have masturbation and a good imagination.  But that desire would often start physically.  I'd start to 'grow down there'.  If I were alone and so inclined, I'd pull up the porn and indulge.  It might take a few minutes, it might take longer.  It really just depended on how imaginative I was at that particular time and how recently I'd last masturbated.  

Now?  I really don't get hard or even engorged randomly.  'Little Caitlyn' down there just sits soft and happy.  I still get mentally aroused.  For instance when I'm viewing porn or reading others caps or trying to make my own erotica/porn.  But almost never will that mental arousal transition into physical arousal.  'Little Caitlyn' just stays in her napping state.  When this first started, I was so used to that being an easy transition that I tried to force it.  I'd rub and put on porn, and even put on a headset so I could listen into it (most of the time it's a purely visual and mental experience as sound carries in the house).  That had varying levels of success.  I might start to get hard but without constant stimulation, I'd quickly grow soft.  And I'm talking quickly.  As in I remove my hand from the action to light a cigarette and by the time I take a puff, put the cig aside, and return my hand between my legs, I've gone soft.  

Now, at first I was able to tap into that frustration and direct it into my creativity.  I believe I even mentioned it some time ago that it was an interesting sensation.... kind of like forced chastity. I could now empathize with my characters that were aroused but couldn't achieve orgasm.  It wasn't the same though as even my mental arousal was diminished.  Habit of successfully masturbating turned into habit of unsuccessful masturbation.  If you want to know the definition of frustration, try being aroused, playing with yourself for an hour, and still being unable to even maintain an erection, let alone achieve orgasm.  It's maddening.  So the desire to attempt masturbation diminished.  Any flow I had of directing that energy into writing dried up.  

I basically have four outlets for my erotic creativity.  Role playing (D+X), capping, short form writing (obscura and tumblr), and long form writing (currently CHYOA).  I stepped away from role playing back when the migraines got bad and have only recently (in the last couple weeks) stepped back in.  My last cap was made on August 28th.  My last tumblr post was made December 30th.  And my last Obscura was JUNE.  I've stumbled along and continued to write chapters of Gamer Gurl part II but where I wrote 37 chapters between July and September, I took two months off before forcing myself back into it in November.  I wrote 17 chapters between mid November and mid January then paused again until this month where I've written another 4 chapters.  Writing these chapters is now... confusing.  

I have trouble explaining it to myself, so I'm sure it's not going to come out clearly here.  But I WANT to write.  But a big part of my writing has always come from my sexual desire.  To put it crudely, I get horny, I write.  I continue to write until I get so horny at my own writing that I masturbate and have been temporarily sated.  I clean up, and then return later in the day or the next day and repeat.  But now that arousal just isn't there.  Or if it is, it's so quiet and in the distance that it's almost impossible to tap into.  I still have the outline of the story.  I still have images in my head that are interesting and intriguing and that I want to share and tell and have people walk along with me as we watch them together.  I even have the NEXT story lined up in my head.  The secretary story.  I have SO many scenes that I want to explore and write and share in that one as it will be a more raunchy fun story and less of a character drama that Gamer Gurl.  

But when I go to write it's like starting up the car for a long drive and realizing you're out of gas.  Yeah, you might have enough gas to get to the gas station... I might have enough of an idea to get myself going and start writing and then just continue... but more likely I'll stall on the way to the gas station... I'll start writing and then get stuck.  But getting stuck in writing is tough as the next time I come back I have to decide do I back up and delete what I've written?  Do I go in a different direction?  Do I re-write it?  Punch it up?  Just keep it and continue on that same path?   I hate when my writing leaves me stranded because as hard as it is to get INTO writing, its' even more difficult when I've failed the previous time.  

So, right now I forced myself to write a tumblr post the other day.  I'd found three good images that all inspired stories and just made up my mind to put one into tumblr form.  It took me FOREVER to write it out.  When I finished I thought it was going to be one of my longest tumblrs... like, it might be long enough that I could flesh it out a bit and just post it to fictionmania!  But looking back, it's one of my shorter tumblr posts.  And it's not that great.  It's not bad.  But it could be so much better.   As for Gamer Gurl, I'm at a fun place.  I left the last chapter on a cliff hanger.  Sadie gave Louis a hand job in the movie theater.  But just like she learned in all of her devotionals, once his cum has covered her hands she's brought it up to her face and is in the process of licking it away.  That's where I stopped.  It's, at least to me, a hot an horny spot.  Embarrassment, with maybe a side of humiliation, but still was a voluntary act because she wanted to make Louis feel good and feels good herself at having done a good job.  So, I can't go into that next chapter without my arousal to help.  This isn't her talking it out with Sarah or her practicing with Marley or her prepping for her Japan trip... it's the direct aftermath of sex.  

At this rate, it might be a month before I can write the next chapter.  It's already been nine days.  Maybe I can write it today, but I doubt it.  Maybe tomorrow... but I doubt it.  

I'm sorry if that's a more in depth than you wanted to go, but I think all of that information was necessary to explain why I'm having difficulties writing.  I don't have a fix for it either as I do honestly believe it's a side effect of these medications.  Yeah, I've only been on them for a few months.  Yes, they might still change and I still might get 'better'.  I've gotten better with the muscle tremors.  I just don't get the sensation that this is short term.  I get the sensation that this might be a new normal and that I might have to hang up my writing credentials.  

Another example of how this is affecting me is Sean.  Sean and I met through D+X years ago.  We role played together there.  We started with him as a patron and me as a girl.  I became staff and we became boyfriend girlfriend.  It was the first relationship I was ever in with a man while I was a woman.  Now, technically, any fun I had at D+X was with men... but they were like men.  Being women.  I won't even say 'playing' women... they WERE women.  But Sean was a man playing a man.  He knew what I was, but he accepted me as I presented myself.  As a woman named Caitlyn.  

Our role playing extended to various chat platforms.  While we still met as 'Sean and Caitlyn' we recognized there were the players, the people Sean and Caitlyn, and the characters Sean and Caitlyn.  But again, Sean saw and accepted me as I presented myself.  As a woman named Caitlyn.  I was able to truly be ME.  To be seen as Caitlyn, to be treated as Caitlyn.  To be loved as Caitlyn.  And yes, I loved Sean back just as much, just as fiercely.  This wasn't just about sex, but sex was involved.  You all know I have an oral fetish... well, I got to 'play' that live with Sean.  The technicality of it didn't matter one little bit.  Yes, technically he was on his side of the screen wherever in the country he was, and I was behind my screen in my bedroom in my hometown.  Again... didn't matter. We were together and we were intimate and I got to have sex with him. It was passionate, and romantic and loving and sexy and amazing.  I swear, during those sessions my heart would beat just as fast and just as hard as during any arousal and orgasm as I had alone or even with the lone 'true' sexual session I had.  It was real.  

In role playing, we followed what we did in our private time together.  Our characters fell in love just as Sean and I fell in love.  He even proposed to me and we were engaged.  The whole site recognized us as fiancé's.  And falling in love with Sean, both in role play and in our reality, made me accept being Queer, being feminine, even before I could put a title to it.  It made it okay for me to be Caitlyn.  It cemented it in that last way that hadn't been done before... emotionally. It wasn't just me having a lone fantasy or a dream, it was someone seeing me and believing in me.  It was me expressing myself and being seen and heard.  And that felt SO amazing.  And just as much as I loved making love to Sean, he loved making love to me.  

For various reasons we split up for a long time.  Sean stopped role playing where I came back to D+X, only to leave again later.  My character of Caitlyn kept on loving him, even though he was gone.  It became a defining characteristic of her... the loss of her true love.  

Well, recently, Sean and I have reconnected via Discord.  And it's been great.  I don't know what it's like to hook up with an old flame, but I know what it's like to hook up with a friend that you've been away from after a long while.  And this was better than that.  But again, this is recently.  This is post sexual desire Caitlyn.  I finally the other day had to have a talk with Sean as I felt awkward.  We were being our normal 'physical' selves with each other in chat.  We'd hug, and kiss and lay our heads against each others and caress each other and touch... and normally that would lead to us doing more.  Me rubbing his pants, him rubbing my breasts... me unzipping him, him removing my top... me kneeling down and pulling his pants off, him sitting back and smiling down at me...

But I can't do that now.  I don't feel that desire. I could 'fake' it.  I could write out those scenes.  It's just words on the screen.  But I've never faked it with him before.  When I wrote those words with him, it was me doing it to him.  And that wasn't true now.  So we talked and I shared how my sexual appetites, my desire, my libido, has just... gone.  And to be honest, that's when it all clicked in my head.  When the timing all matched up with my creative endeavors.  How I'd stopped writing or had difficulty writing, how I'd stopped capping.  

I'm not going to give up just yet and I'll keep you up to date if there are changes, either good or ill.