The love of one's own self is not a new concept, and surely I do not contian a monopoly in this niche industry. (And what if I did? Everytime a player's thimble fell upon the boardwalk of self-desire I would happily charge a luxary tax). The decision to become an autosexual has come after a lifetime of chasing my own desires, only to have them thwarted by the desires of others - how rude! Lifetimes, I can speak for my own soul, have been spent coming to decisions via the means of light thoughts. Choices are made with careful consideration of facts which would otherwise be construed as falicies.

"I've decided to become an autosexual, wanna hear why?"

"No, not really". A gust blew, almost caring away my bald cap - a look I shall have to get used to thanks to my parents carefull breeding - with it, to re-enforce Super's unwillingness to listen to my nonsense. Nonsense? We were dressed as mad scientest, on a college campus in the early evening, surrounded by princesses, power rangers, and an occasional ninja. I was about to engage in nonsense? Ha! If decisions about sexual orientaion are nonsense, than what is the rest of life? Of course, Super never said the word 'nonsense', but I could see it forming on her eyes instead of her mouth - it must have gotten lost. "But do you wanna tell me?", she added, purely to placate me.

"No". It was a lie and Super knew it. The need to explain my reasons - to make them real by speaking them to another person - was bursting from me, and Super could clearly see it. Not just then, but at some point, Super became privy to my reasoning. I trapped her. After sitting down on a terribly comfortable concrete bench, I began my tale of love.

As the old saying goes: "silly faggot, dicks are for chicks", so the possibility of becomming of homosexual was no possibilty at all. If some men wish to keep each other's company, marinating their meats, working in fudge plants, hiding salomies, in short sinning against nature, fine. Count the Ethan out though. An occasional human has turned to the beast in times of need and frustrastion - but again I have to sit that one out on the grounds of not sinning against nature. What remaining options were there for me? I have previously stated (and still stand by) that all pedophiles should be put to death once discovered. If I turned to a life of debucharily I would have to commit suicide as well, to avoid being a hypocrite too.

Ah....but why not remain a hetereosexual man? Why? Good question, and when asked that by Super, "They frustrate me". I was too frustrated to expound that answer. And so, with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, I decided by become an autosexual. The pros far out weigh the cons. I can never dump myself. If I break my heart, I have no one to blame but myself. Getting laid is as simple as staying at home and masterbating. Remaining chaste would not be a problem.

There's a kink in every plan, and my potentionaly autosexual behaviors faced two kinks. The first walked by, in brown leather cowboy boots, just as I was saying how great being an autosexual would be.

"I should have been a cowboy". Escaped my lips. The look of confusion went away from Super's face when that radiant smile wearing a cowbay hat came into Super's view. Her jeans seemed to be taylor made to fit her body - not too skinny, not too fat. Pleasanly plump. Her white was hacienda style, straightly tucked into her jeans, flowing loosely at the cuffs, ripples of material around her bust. People wear their personalities, and her goodness was more than evident. She walked away with "I should have been a cowboy" still ringing in my ears.

Little Bo Peep
I'll be your sheep
Take me to your pastour
Beat me with your crook
And I'll say faster

Miss Peep, in the flesh, was the second kink. Her beige dress (the same color as my dad's old truck - funny that I would make that connection) seemed to be woefully inadequate. You see, it wasn't capable of containing her cleavage or shoulders, a problem in dresses which I think is irrestible. Peep was saying something to Super. The words sounded like english, I should have heard her speak, but her soft skin (a shade lighter than the dress) proved to be too hypnotic. As Little Bo Peep walked away, with said dress swaying gently from side to side. Two things occured. One, I've never longed to be a sheep so much in my life. Two, Super turned to me and said:

"I can see the look in your eyes, you're rethinking being an autosexual"

"Exactly" was all I could say through my daze.

E.H. Whittemore 10.31.98
First Draft