This story is mine and is copyrighted by me, The Purple Herald. Please don't copy it and add it to your website and make a profit off of my hard work. Please don't strip my name off of the story and claim it for yourself. Please don't be an asshole.
When I tell people I am a lesbian they think they know me. They think I listen to the Indigo Girls, that I cut my hair short because I'm acting like a man and they think I liked the TV show 'Ellen'. People assume lesbians are a separate species. They either think we are girls having endless orgies with each other or they think we are women who have yet to meet the right man. Some think we all write poetry while others think I must have had a tattoo by now.
People might think they know lesbians but they don't know a damn thing about me. I am a woman that likes other women. I listen to country music and I thought "Ellen' sucked. I am a lesbian but I am also a person with strengths and weaknesses.
For example, take Geena. Geena works in my department and her blonde hair burns an ache in my heart that spreads to my belly and into my thighs. Geena and I make jokes about our boss together. Geena always has ham sandwiches for lunch and some days she has turkey. Geena's lipstick is a soft pink that doesn't really match her complexion but no one has told her that or maybe she just doesn't care.
Geena was also straight.
The day she announced her engagement I got violently sick. As I puked my lunch into the toilet I thought about some man's cock reaming my precious Geena. I puked again as I thought about his hairy chest pressed against her full breasts and I dry heaved as I thought about his sticky semen spilling out of her leg.
I went home early and Geena patted me on the shoulder as I gathered my purse. She asked me if I would be okay and I almost started to cry. I had never told her I was a lesbian because you learn a lot about a person when they realize you are a lesbian and I didn't want to learn that about her just yet. I had never told her that I fantasized about washing her hair. There was no way I could tell her now.
At home I got on my knees for the first time in a decade. Lesbians pray, but they pray to feminine ideals of God; some ancient barely remembered woman Goddess that helps them feel like they had a deity on our side. I had always thought God was a myth but tonight I was desperate. I needed to scream my wish to the universe. At first I tried to pray to Hecate, Isthar or Isis but I felt foolish. Dead Goddesses in hiding reminded me too much of myself. I couldn't pray to God as I felt the Patriarchal Overlord had no love for me. Perhaps as a modern woman I shouldn't have prayed at all but my grief was too strong. I had to turn to something.
I looked deep in myself and these are the words I prayed:
"Whomever listens to those in love or lust, please answer me. I love a woman who doesn't know me. I feel a consuming hunger for someone who would recoil at my touch. Please don't let this beautiful creature get married to a man and please help this pain in my heart just go away. Amen."
I went to bed.
For some reason I fell asleep in seconds. My dreams were vivid and unlike most of my dreams, I knew this was a dream. I was still in my panties but I was comfortable in my near nudity. At ease I walked through strange forests and stranger plains. The wind rippled through my short black hair and pushed me gently along a path that wasn't there.
My destination was a Crystal Palace that reared from the ground like a swollen phallus. Past dark-skinned women armed with swords, past several gates that swallowed me rather than open and through a long hall of pink glass that bathed my skin in a soft glow, I penetrated the mysteries of this lair. As I walked I heard the sounds of women moaning and men crying out but I never knew fear. Onward I walked till I found the One who heard my prayers.
He sat on a purple throne that was made of satin. His powerful body was twice my height and two heads sat upon his shoulders. Both heads were bearded, one beard blond, the other red. He was bare- chested and beneath his silk pants I could see the stirring of a terrible and consuming lust.
"I am called WetTongue and the Thigh-Crusher," both heads said and I knew him. He was born when Man first spilled himself in a Woman. He was there when a Woman first coaxed another Woman's thighs to open for her. He was there when a Man first handled the cock of another Man. I knew him just as all people know him in the dark lonely hours.
"You heard my prayer, can you help me?" I asked.
Both heads smiled. "You ask to tempt Geena away from her love. You ask that she change sexually for your own desires. You ask that she become yours."
"Yes," I pleaded. "Can you do this?"
"I can," he admitted. "But there is a price."
He rose and his pants melted from his body. A thick swaying penis was revealed and I shrunk away from its disturbing sight. He walked towards me and I heard all six hundred doors in the Crystal Palace lock around me. The Thigh-Crusher wanted what all Men wanted and my knees shook because I knew I would pay his price.
"I will not help you rape her because Rape is for the cowardly," the blonde head sneered.
"I will not help you seduce her for Seduction is for the willing and she is not," the red head sneered.
"Both we can change her sexuality if you are brave enough to change yourself for one night," both heads asked.
I swallowed my revulsion. "If it will get me Geena," I said.
"Beg me to take your body," the Thigh-Crusher demanded.
My cheeks burned with rage but I said, "Please take my body."
"Beg," he repeated. His cock grew impossibly large.
"Please take my body and do with it as you will," I said again.
"Louder, slut!" his voices boomed. "Beg like you want the fair body of Geena."
"Please!" I wailed. My anger had dissolved into a desperation that I didn't know had welled up inside me. "Please just use me! Please just fuck me like you want!"
.... There is more of this story ...