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ONE OF MANY MORE TO COME!

2010-01-13T18:48:00.000-08:00

Just got into shooting little videos of the girls! Here's Lily/Zelda for your edification!

TRANNY CHASERS! STRAIGHT OR GAY?

2009-07-31T07:31:00.000-07:00

Waxing philosophical this month, Dollar Bill ponders not the age old questions of “Who am I?” and “How did I get here?” but rather skips to a more updated and relevant mind bender: “The tranny chaser...is he straight or gay?” And who better to answer that question than a guy who visits she males’ apartments regularly to book their ads, listen to their problems, hear their stories, gossip about the other she males, and check out how many hormone bottles are inside their fridge when he hits the icebox for a cold one?

Traveling the highways and biways of the adult bodywork nether world is at once a fascinating study in the human condition...AND a migraine headache which makes my former employment - driving a New York City cab - seem like a walk in the park. And when It comes to the sociologically mind-boggling AND the intensely frustrating, the transsexual community certainly holds its own against any other nationality, gender or ethnicity body working their way through life. (Bodywork?!?! Is that the stupidest euphemism you ever heard in your life?) Whatever...I double digress...and now get to the point:

The other day, an old friend called up - a bodyworker of course - and out of nowhere began questioning me as to whether I “do” the she males and what kind of guys prefer she males to say...a gorgeous broad like her?
In her usual unenlightened fashion (Hey what can I tell you? She ain’t Einstein...but she has great tits), Miss Honey launched into an impassioned tirade proclaiming that any man who sucks cock...is gay. And on the face of it, I would agree. But really, there’s more to it than meets the eye - as I began explaining.

“Gwen...I would agree with you but having been an integral part of the transsexual community for a long time, I have a few meaningful insights on this subject which may shed some light on this issue. For starters. Many of the guys who see she males, will book a tranny on Tuesday...you on Thursday...and do the wife over the weekend. And I find it difficult to call a tranny chaser gay...if he can have sex with you or his wife."

Additionally, if a tranny chaser were gay, why wouldn’t he simply book a man? The fact is...if a tranny chaser chooses to step out of the transsexual realm when calling bodywork ads, he’s (according to the girls) much more likely to call a born female than a man. And that tells me something. Tranny chasers love a woman’s softness, tits, ass, curves and everything else that makes women so fabulous to heterosexuals. And it’s because of these feminine characteristics that he prefers the company of a she male to a nasty hairy, titless, musky man. Does that sound gay to you?

Now I’m going to tell you a story not to bore you - but to inform. I once had a female client who confessed that she was never bisexual until she began working in a garden variety of whorehouses all over the city. Checking out all the other girls’ assets every day, and watching certain guys pick other girls instead of her because (presumably) one had bigger tits - or a fatter ass - or longer legs - or a prettier face, she found herself working out her insecurity by simply befriending the other girls so she could suck and fondle all the body parts they had that weren’t exactly the same size and texture as her own.

I tell you this story because I genuinely feel that all the societal pressure - all the visible pornography - and all the references by females to how they slave for a big, fat cock has beaten down a significant portion of the heterosexual male community to the point where they too want to suck and fondle guys’ body parts. So if you’re basically a straight guy how can you reconcile this inner turmoil? Making love to a guy would be horrible! But wait a minute! TRANNIES! A hot, sexy, drooling, cock-hungry chick with a stiff willy to play with? Voila...there’s the answer.”

I paused for a moment, confident that I’d made my point - but of course I hadn’t. Gwen is clearly a homophobe of sorts who understood almost nothing of what I had just told her. “I don’t care. If you suck cock, you’re gay,” she concluded - no doubt, the prevailing attitude in the mainstream.

I continued in defense of the people who hand she males money so they can in turn hand it to me to run their ads.

“Gwen! Haven’t you ever felt up one of your friend’s tits or asses because they were so plump or whatever?” I continued.

“Yeah, sure! But I’m not gay.” Oy! Obviously some sort of reverse double standard was in full effect and I quickly remembered why I never fell in love with Gwen even though we had great sex and she is easily the best looking Asian bodyworker in New York. SHE’S A FUCKING IDIOT!!

The head of classified advertising from The New York Press called at that moment about something more important than philosophizing about the sexual orientation of a tranny chaser, and I had to get off the phone. But all was not lost. I had the theme of my next “She Male” feature. And I think it’s an interesting one.

Often when I visit my clients’ apartments, I sit not only do business...but gossip as well. And often our social/business interaction is cut off with the familiar statement “Billy, I have a guy on the corner. Gather up your shit and get the fuck out.” And when I leave I almost always run smack dab into the guy who is coming to see my client.

First, the guys never look gay and display no outward appearance as such. I see businessmen, handsome model types, occasional gnomes, old men and even ghetto thugs. And I find it hard to believe in most cases that these guys just do she males. More likely, their tranny chasing is a closeted “other life” which nobody knows about. And that contention is borne out by the fact that almost never will the tranny chaser’s eyes meet mine as I exit and he enters, even though homey has no idea that I know who he is and what he’s about to do. Tranny chasing by and large, is a very clandestine activity - and a very popular one as well. The amount of money spent by tranny chasers - whether they be straight, bi or gay - is considerable.

Honestly, I’m not clear why the sexual orientation of a tranny chaser is such an issue? But on second thought...this might be it: With born females, I can only surmise that a hot tranny constitutes a major threat. I mean...how can they compete with a chick who has bigger tits, a phatter ass than they...AND a big willy to boot? In the case of Gwen, she had really called because business was falling off and she needed to renew her ads. And I guess she felt that her regulars were (at least possibly) defecting for the company of a big-bootied/heavy-balled tranny - and was feeling insecure about the entire affair.

Lending credibility to that theory, I know several females who harbor fantasies about getting fucked long and hard by a beautiful, functional she male. She males just have so much, making love to one a female can exorcise all that penis envy and feminine cattiness/jealousy in one incredible interlude with a miraculous divastud. Talk about purging you mind, body and soul! Could there be a better way for an oversexed and overly insecure nymphomaniac adult bodyworker?

Anyway, before I slip out of my Platonic garb and end this meaningless diatribe, I’ll finish by observing that the once puritanical human species has evolved sexually to such a point that we now have a third sex and are struggling to define the sexual orientation of the person who likes to have sex with modern medicine’s relatively new creation. And really and maybe even more important...what’s with all the fucking labels? If it feels good and you’re not hurting anybody...you might as well go for it. Just use a rubber. That’s what really matters!

THE HISTORY OF TRANSSEXUALITY: Meet Cristine Jorgensen

2009-07-26T07:01:00.000-07:00

You probably think that Dollar Bill spends the majority of his life jerking off to photos of big-dicked transsexuals. But nothing could be further from the truth. Actually, he spends most of his life jerking off to The History Channel - that is - when he’s not chasing shemales for their ad money. And so this month, our learned professor traces the origins of the transgendered phenomenon so that we may all better understand what the hell all this tranny stuff is about in the first place!

It may come as a shock to some of you guys but the truth is transsexuality is not an entirely new concept, and the girl you saw last night doesn’t have a triple-o vin number. Which is to say, our current gaggle of advertisers aren’t the first chicks with dicks the planet has ever known. The concept of transsexuality is actually not a new one at all. There have been numerous examples throughout history of men wanting to be like and dressing as females as well as females wanting to act like and be men.

The problem was way back when, there were no surgical procedures available to help further the notion of transsexuality. Nor were there any hormones available to aid in the transformation. Men or women could only use other sex garb and make-up to create the illusion of transsexuality.

The big change came after World War I when the science and practice of plastic surgery found its birth. So many soldiers came home maimed and disfigured, the medical community found a need and demand to develop new procedures and technologies to help the infirmed and cosmetically challenged. One of these was the injection of silicone into the body, a procedure popularized by Japanese prostitutes hoping to attract American servicemen after the war. On the plus side, the injections created breasts which looked and felt real. (Indeed, I have a few transsexual clients who have this configuration and their breasts are amazing.) On the downside, silicone injection causes so many problems and health hazards that the US outlawed the practice.

Obviously, the legal banning of the procedure has not stopped renegade doctors and nurses from turning a buck in the underground while nobody is looking. And a significant part of that underground is the transsexual population, who routinely get their asses pumped illegally to appear fabulous to those who would court the favor of the transgendered set.

But I digress! The beginning of the modern breast implant age began in 1962 when silicone became available in a pocket or envelope and could be inserted in a girl’s chest to achieve the desired effect. With everything legal and on the up-and-up, an aspiring she male could now for a few thousand dollars have a big, fabulous set of knockers with which to seduce a “straight” guy.

Hormone therapy also found its birth in the 20th century. Originally conceived as a remedy for imbalances, it wasn’t long before wannabe she males figured out that the ingestion or inoculation of estrogen (and other female hormones) would aid in the loss of muscle tone and facial and body hair, as well as an overall softening of the body contour.

Add depilatory creams and electrolysis to the mix to further eliminate unwanted hair, and you have a scenario in which a man can almost completely transform himself into a woman - while keeping the male organ!

While transsexuality was and is shrouded in mystery, the subculture becomes more and more mainstream with the passage of time. And as with all cultural trends, somebody has to be the forerunner and the harbinger of things to come.

Although she wasn’t the first transsexual, Christine Jorgensen stands as the “Christopher Columbus” of the transgendered community. America discovered she males via her public persona.

Christine Jorgensen was born George Jorgensen Jr. in the Bronx, N.Y. on May 30, 1926. At age 5 she asked her parents for a blonde doll for Christmas. When she awoke on the morning of The Nativity, Christine found a red choo choo train under the tree. Despite the obvious, George continued as George throughout his childhood, adolescent and early adulthood life, even serving his country in the U.S Army! But then the call of his truly transsexual nature led George to Copenhagen, where he underwent a series of three surgeries to become the glamorous woman he’d always dreamed she could be.

As previously stated, Christine was by no means the first post-op transsexual - but she certainly was the most visible. A photographer by trade, Christine found herself thrust into the public limelight more by the press’ and public’s insatiable appetite for the facts and gossip concerning Christine, than any particular desire on her part to be so infamous. The year was 1952, and the post war baby boomer generation was just ripe for a cutting edge sci fi story, which not only included a lascivious quality - but also a lesson in the yin and yang of the mid century’s ever-advancing technologies.

Add that she looked and dressed in a very stylish manner and conducted herself in an informed and seductive way - and it was a wrap. Christine became a media star, posing, voguing and entertaining to the tune of $5,000 a week. People lined up around the block just to catch a glimpse of Christine and her show. But more important, Christine became the poster girl for gay/lesbian/transsexual rights and introduced America to its ever-evolving and rapidly-modernizing sexuality. Some go as far as to say that The Sexual Revolution began with Christine.

In truth, her original surgery was very rudimentary. Essentially, she underwent castration and had a penectomy. It was only years later that she returned to the operating room to have a vagina excavated, an operation which wasn’t all that successful. Sex reassignment surgery was in its infancy at the time and anybody who opted for the change couldn’t reasonably expect to have the capacity to enjoy sex that they’d had previously with their parts intact.

At the age of 62, Christine died of cancer, but not before penning an autobiography to document her unique voyage. And Hollywood even produced “The Christine Jorgensen Story,” furthering her legendary status to an even greater extent.

So if you think last night’s date is some kind of trendsetter, well, she may in fact be. Just not on the subject of transsexuality. Clearly, there have been many who’ve been there and done that before - even if your most recent partner does it better with the help of more and more advanced medical surgeries, procedures and technologies.

YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER!

2009-07-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

Dollar “Billy Bob” Bill has gone country parodying Jeff Foxworthy’s “You just might be a redneck” hook, with his own psychotic take on society's covert fascination with she males. Appropriately entitled “You Just Might Be a Tranny Chaser,” the following will no doubt be a painful and nauseating experience - but well worth the insight as usual - that is - if you don’t take yourself too seriously.

In the wild and wacky world of “metrosexualism” (what a bullshit word to describe the current trend), totally horny men-on-the-prowl often wander through the streets of The Big Apple led only by their rigid cocks and the endless need to get that stiff invader off as often as possible - and with the most furious of impassioned dick worshippers they can find. The haze and ooze of this surrealistic search numbs the mind to the point that the sex zombie in pursuit of all these carnal pleasures will often wake up the next morning wondering exactly how to define his sexuality, so that he may be comfortable in his own skin and able to walk by a mirror without turning away for fear of who or what he might see. It’s a quandary for sure!

Take the tranny chaser and the straight-up gay man. Is there a difference? Now in my opinion, there IS a difference between these “metrosexuals.” A gay man falls in love with other men. He may fall for a tranny but his attention will be directed below her waist - not above. On the other hand, a tranny chaser favors a she male over a man because the man doesn’t have soft skin and big juggzz - which are obviously important to a tranny chaser - or he would simply go for a gay man.

Well anyway...lest I overly digress, I have to admit that coming up with subjects for this feature is getting more and more difficult. I am a poison- pen writer whose major thrust is to ventilate at the expense of whomever (including myself) - hopefully in a humorous fashion. Unfortunately, the publisher of this magazine doesn’t want me to make fun of the advertisers who finance this paper. Hence, I feel like a porno stud trying to perform without his viagra or an olympic sprinter running the 100 yard dash with a broken ankle. I would much rather write “NYC’s Ten Biggest Deadbeat Trannies,” than “Zero Population Growth And The Transsexual,” - if you get my drift. It’s just so much more fun!

And so...every month I struggle to come up with a topic that might interest somebody on the subject of transsexuality and the guys who “chase.” And this month after endless mental rumination, I discovered one passage in last issue’s feature which led me to the promised land once more. It was a silly quip which ended with the phrase “You just might be a tranny chaser.” I read this paragraph to a couple of ancient friends at a high school reunion - all of whom fell out at the absurdity of the subject matter - and suddenly realized that the said narrative faintly resembled the hook line “You might be a redneck” so successfully used by comedian Jeff Foxworthy. And there it was - and is - the title and theme of this month’s feature! How fortuitous. How excellent! Now if I can only think up a few funny lines...it will work. And if it doesn’t who cares? Nobody reads this meaningless drivel anyway. Guys who buy this magazine go straight to the ads looking for a cute she male with a nice package. Yo! So what the fuck? Here goes with the comedy routine:

If you pick up a gorgeous “girl” on the street, invite her to your house, and when she undresses in front of you revealing a big sett of succulent tits AND a long, phat pole, you have to flip a coin to decide what you’re gonna suck on first...YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER!!

If you’re tongue kissing your favorite goddess du jour and she tastes a little sticky...or you’re sucking her big clit and suddenly a gush of viscous white stuff projects from her engorgement, YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER!

If you actually paid six bucks for this rag and you didn’t hide it under The New York Post, Daily News or other equally egregious tabloid pieces of crap when you went to the counter to pay - you’re DEFINITELY a fucking tranny chaser.

If you like to watch Channel 35 on your cable TV late at night, and you don’t throw up when that repulsive she male phone sex ad comes on...YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER.

If you find that in your normal conversation with people who have no idea that you buy this magazine and see these girls, you use expressions like “You go girl,” “You better work,” “Ova,” and “She’s serving,” YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER.

If you crave the affections of a lady with big hands, big feet, botox lips and a cute little $1000 dog named Chanelle, Poopsie, Zsa Zsa, or Sparky...GO KILL YOURSELF. You’re a hopeless drone. And get cremated while you’re at it. Nobody will come to your funeral anyway.

If you bought this magazine, called one of the girls, invited her over and then concentrated solely on sucking her dick and smooching the stubble on her chin - all while ignoring her big, phat fake juggzz and fabulously round and silicone-induced super booty, you AREN’T a tranny chaser. YOU’RE A FAGGOT - A HOMOSEXUAL MAN - A MARICON - A JOTA. Get out of the closet. You’ll feel so much better for the admission.

If you go out to a dark, loud disco joint, pick up a tall, chiseled "lady" with a deep sonorous voice, take her home to discover that her clit is actually bigger than your dick...and you don't care...YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER!

If you resemble a certain ebony comedian/movie star, and you like to pick up transgendered girls in the street at 5 AM to give them rides home (or at least that’s what you tell the police when they pull you over), you’re definitely a tranny chaser - just like the celebrity who used this preposterous excuse when he himself was outed for being exactly what he is: A TRANNY CHASER!!!

If you think Dame Edna is one sexy ho - and don’t even notice that the old fag is actually really fucking funny - forget about being a tranny chaser - YOU’RE A TRISEXUAL NYMPHOMANIAC. You’ll fuck anything!

If you ever went to the newsstand and couldn’t decide whether to buy Screw or this puppy trainer - YOU’RE DEFINITELY A TRANNY CHASER. There’s nothing but tranny ads in either magazine, you homo! But hey! Better buy both. There just might be one she male advertising in one that isn’t in the other.

If you crave the company of a gorgeous female with fabulous soft and natural tits and a fragrant and velvety pussy which you love to pound all night - YOU’RE NOT A TRANNY CHASER. What the fuck are you doing reading this dog shit in the first place?

If your name is Dollar Bill, and you write a preposterous first feature for the leading she male periodical, and you pretend to editorialize and hold yourself above the she male fray while you actually overindulge whenever possible - YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER. But you’re not! Contrary to the rumor mill, I don’t blow trannies - and trannies don’t blow me. Ha! Just when you thought I was outing myself.

If given absolutely no parameters as to what to write for your history paper, you choose a subject along the lines of “The History of Transsexualism,” or “Comparative Tranny Cock Size Through The Ages,” or “J. Edgar Hoover And The History Of Crossdressing,” YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER!

If you surreptitiously surf the web to jerk off, accidentally stumble upon a tranny feed and bust all over your pot belly before the stream even loads - YOU JUST MIGHT BE A TRANNY CHASER!

If you think “Paris Is Burning” and “The Rocky Horror Picture Show’ are two of the most fascinating, well-written and convincingly-acted films you’ve ever seen, you’re definitely no Roger Ebert - but YOU MIGHT JUST BE A TRANNY CHASER.

And there you have it! If that ain’t a litmus test for your tranny chasing quotient, I’ll kiss your ass...but only if you’re an onion-bootied, brain-dead born female ghetto hoochie mama - ‘cause I’m definitely a big fag for a dumb rapper-worshipping, illiterate, slow-minded, blunt-smoking lady of color. I just can’t help myself. What can I say?

WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE A SHE MALE - It Ain’t Easy Bein’ a Tranny

2009-07-19T07:30:00.000-07:00

Once again Dollar Bill imparts his questionable wisdom nauseating us all with his smug self-righteousness! Does he really know anything about the she male subculture or is he just jerking himself off? You be the judge!

Often, outsiders to the subculture - and even guys who call she male ads in the papers and websites - have no idea what really goes in the mind of a she male, or why she decided to be the transgendered person she is in the first place. And while I am not myself a transsexual, I’ve certainly spent enough time observing the transgendered sociological phenomenon via my long relationships with many of the girls on the scene to understand exactly what makes a she male tick. And if I don’t, you can trust that somebody will call up after reading this to let me know exactly how full of shit I am.

Regardless, here’s my take on the situation: The essence of this culture stems from the theory that occasionally, female psyches are born in male bodies or vice versa, causing a gender identity crisis which renders the person in a constantly conflicted emotional state. Obviously, if you have a man’s body but female’s impulses, you got a problem! Up until fifty or sixty years ago, there wasn’t much anybody could do. Yes, you could dress up in women’s clothing and attempt to look feminine. But you couldn’t have tits, ass or a vagina. And so...homosexuality, while the only viable alternative, wasn’t really the answer. Yes, you could make love with the gender you preferred but still, it wasn’t quite the same as actually transforming your body to another gender, the only true manner in which one could successfully attract a heterosexual of the preferred gender.

Now this is a little complicated for heteros to comprehend. There is a difference between a gay or transgendered person making love to a straight man - versus a homosexual man. Gay men may appreciate a phat booty and a big set of juggs. But they don’t crave them. Straight men do. And for many, if there’s a big, stiff dick attached...all the better! So as a homosexual man, a person with a gender identity crisis has no hope of attracting a straight man. But if he embarks on the transition and becomes a she male with womanly parts...bada BOOM! Now she has hot, straight guys wanting to suck her tits and fuck her ass!

While a significant majority of New York’s she males are still pre-op (they have their dicks), many are in a state of transition and planning to undergo sex reassignment surgery in the not-too-distant future. There are a few reasons why many pre-ops in transition are still pre-ops rather than having already had the surgery. First, the metamorphosis from male to female isn’t cheap. It takes money -- and a lot of it! Chicks with dicks make more money than post-op transsexuals. It’s just a fact! The customers want that little something extra or else they would simply see females. So the girls stay pre-op to earn enough money to eventually make the change!

Second, a candidate for the surgery can’t just walk up to any doctor and go have the procedure done. She must first undergo rigorous psychological counseling and analysis so that the physician feels comfortable making this radical change. And of course, the surgery is traumatic. And finally, post-ops don’t always enjoy sex as much as they used to especially if they were functional pre-ops. So some are hesitant to take the chance on severing some vital nerves which has on occasion made post-ops numb in a very strategic area.

If you think that some trannies are a few cards short of a fifty-two card deck -- and wildly dramatic and emotional -- there is a medical reason. Most she males undergo hormone therapy. Indeed, many shoot up every day to maintain their feminine personna! When you shoot estrogen in a born-male body what you get is a fight between the male androgen hormone and the female estrogen hormone raging in the person’s bloodstream. And that battle can manifest itself via wild mood swings and basic bipolar behavior. Girls have suggested on several occasions “Don’t come over. I just shot hormones and I’m a little crazy.” Enough said. I always heed that warning! I got enough drama in my life.

Female hormones, while making Miss Honey softer, rounder and more feminine also tend to make the dick soft and nonfunctional -- as does constant sexual activity! She males in the escort biz have the basic problem that the customers want them hard. But how many guys can you get hard for in a day -- especially if they’re gross and disgusting? Hence, viagra, cialis or levitra enters the she male’s drug regimen regardless of whether she’s having sex for fun or money. The point is that trannies do a lot of drugs. And I’m not saying they’re heroin addicts or coke heads. They simply inject foreign substances and/or take them orally to a) look good and b) perform well. But all this takes its toll on the mind and body. So if trannies weren’t nuts to begin with, they have all these substances to help them along on the road to insanity.

Often, the search for the perfect man is in constant motion - whether the hunter is a female or she male. But with she males there’s a lot of chicanery involved. Thus, dimly-lit club life comes to the fore. Remember, trannies want a straight guy, so low lights, loud music, liquor and/or other mind-altering substances are a she male’s best friend. Better to ease that straight man into the transsexual reality than slap him in the face (no pun intended) with it. It’s a big turn-on when she males are mistaken for females. It make the girls feel self-actualized to fool a guy into thinking he’s rubbing up on a girl - rather than a she male. Easing that guy from a booty dance at a club to the bed is a gauntlet that faces many horny pre-ops! It ain’t easy bein’ a tranny! What can I say?

Whether a she male is a big party girl or a homebody, most spend an inordinate amount of time and money improving their feminine figure and appearance. There are always trips to the manicurist and pedicurist. Artful fingers and toes always attract a hot guy! Then there’s the hair salon. Trannies spend big bucks doing their hair. Hundreds of dollar a throw to get that perfect streak of blonde and seductive cut is commonplace. A visit to the electrolysis lab to remove some unwanted hair is often on the she male’s beautification itinerary as well. And finally, a junket to the surgeon for pre-op prepping or post-op check-ups can be on the list. Trannies are often surgery addicts, constantly fine-tuning their faces or bodies to achieve perfection. The fact that many are “surged” to death seems to escape many drama queens. I remember one client returning from $15,000 worth of brow trimming, nose-jobbing etc... and I didn’t even see the difference! But when I saw her six hours after some lipo and a face peel...that was an entirely different story. I couldn’t look. The girl was as scary as Freddy Kruger with all that skin hanging off her face! Gaaag!!

Sometimes, she males want to assimilate into mainstream society. And sometimes they just want to hang in their subculture. So when it comes time to hang out, they may venture into a mixed venue filled with straight, gay and transgendered people...or go to hang with their own and the people who adore them (tranny chasers). Pursuant to this, there are several places (Escuelita or Edelweiss) where the girls go for a night out in their element. If they’re looking for boyfriends or hot sex with a cute stranger, they’ll hit places like the old Sound Factory where virtually people of all genders and sexual orientations congregate. Where she chooses to hang depends on the mood and/or the girl’s personality.

She male family life is yet another facet mainstream people rarely consider. Are trannies such social pariahs that their families simply can’t deal - leaving them as orphans? Apparently, the answer to that question is no -- especially with foreigners. Mothers, brothers and sisters seem to visit from the home country quite often. One of my Venezuelan clients has a she male sister! She and the two “girls’” mother are visiting right now as I write this. South American cultures seem to feel that transsexuality is less freakish than their American counterpart. Gorgeous she males abound in Brazil where the country all but oozes sexuality. I’ve actually met a few of the girls’ siblings or mothers and I didn’t find them or the situation strange at all.

But once in a female whorehouse, I ran into a phone girl who was actually the blood mother of one of the girls she was selling over the phone. A mother booking her daughter to have sex with strangers for money? That I found a little disturbing. Go figure! Until next month...enjoy yourself with these fascinating erotic ladies! Why not? You only live once. Just pleez....no Congressmen Foleys. That’s all I ask!

TURNING THE TABLES!

2009-07-16T07:12:00.000-07:00

Are you tired of slaving all week to hand your hard-earned bucks over to the object of your deepest lust? Well, Dollar Bill is! And here he fantasizes on how to turn the tables, convincing your favorite she male to fork over HER hard-eanred dollars for YOUR companionship!

I’m guessing that anybody who reads this column is an individual who has spent a lot of money compensating the advertisers on this site in exchange for time spent. And I think it's time for a change! I’ve been around an army of both female and she male escorts on this job -- and I’ve heard the stories from the girls who somehow got hoodwinked into turning customers who used to pay them into boyfriends for whom they have genuine feelings. And this is the success story to which all tricks aspire: To sexually and emotionally enslave a jaded escort for your own purposes. Talk about the hunter getting captured by the game!

Well...believe it or not -- it happens more often than you might think. Unless the girls have sexual abuse and intimacy problems -- which is more the domain of female escorts than she males for sure -- everybody needs love and affection regardless of how many sexual partners they have in any given period of time. You see -- for the girls -- most of the guys who give them money are suspect and disgusting at the outset. And you have to convince them right away that you differ from the norm! This isn’t like the square world. You have two strikes against you immediately because you’re a paying horn dog in the first place.

So how does a guy turn the tide? Exactly how does this work? How can a common john turn himself into Don Juan? Here’s my take on the sale:

TAKE A PERSONAL INTEREST

Before you jump the bones of the sex goddess you’ve just paid, it’s better to introduce yourself and take your time a little at the outset. Shake hands and look your partner straight in the eye. Especially with she males, guys can be very skittish. Seeing she males is a closeted deal to begin with and the girls are used to furtive, sly individuals who give incorrect names and information so as not to be outed for what they’re doing! Yes, you can still lie like a hooker. Just have a little finesse and patience in the process. Once you personalize the encounter, your fiancé will warm up and give you better service. It’s time well spent. Trust me.

When I order a girl, I usually do the wrong thing -- getting the party going immediately so I can stay in the pussy for as long as possible. But recently, I sat down and had maybe ten minutes of light conversation with a young girl. I played her a song on the guitar and then we got busy. The next day the owner called up and asked ”What did you do? The girl asked when she can see you again.” Obviously, youngblood was put at ease in the first ten minutes and thoroughly enjoyed her hour as a result!

SPEND MONEY

I know the object here is to get some free ass but in the beginning -- ya gotta lay the paper! All escorts are money-hungry. That’s why they do what they do! And nothing seduces girls more than a wad of cash. Big dicks come a dime a dozen for escorts. Big spenders don’t! So if you have money -- ya gotta spend it to begin with. It doesn’t matter whether you’re dealing with a female, she male, pro or amateur. Cheap doesn’t make it. Trust me! I’ve blown dozens of opportunities being cheap - and seized upon a few being a spender. Spending always works!

BE PHYSICALLY ATTRACTIVE

I know this is easier said than done. You are what you are obviously. But that doesn’t mean you can’t dress nicely, put on a pleasant smelling cologne for your date. This simply demonstrates respect for her -- and yourself -- at least in her eyes. And always be clean. Nobody -- and I mean nobody -- likes a funky man. If your mind set is “It’s just an escort. What the fuck?” that’s fine. But don’t expect to seduce the girl showing up smelly and nasty with skid marks on your underwear and toilet paper pills in your butt. Bitches simply ain’t feelin’ dat!

ROCK HER SEXUALLY

Do the best you can with what you have! Yeah! Escorts like a guy with a six-pack abdomen. But being attentive to her needs and going the extra mile orally (or whatever seems to turn her on) is something all women crave! Hone your technique (whatever the area) and turn on the charm! And keep spending!

ROMANCE AND CANDLELIT DINNERS

Yup! Bring flowers, candy, gifts and all that other nonsense I can’t stand. Take her out to romantic dinners and all that mushy stuff. Recently, one of my longtime clients called to say she was leaving town for a while and wanted to fuck me before she went. But she didn’t just want to show up at my door and work me for a free ad. She wanted to go out for dinner, drinks and dancing whereupon we would then return to my apartment where I could (presumably) lay the pipe free of charge. And this from an escort who’s been selling her wares for 20 years! The point? It doesn’t matter how many guys these girls have been with -- they still get stupid and mushy on the right guy. And remember -- transsexuals want to be women -- and thus have the same emotional needs. And those needs involve courtship, romance and a lot of traditional stuff you’d think somebody who’s sucked on 10,000 dicks would have long forgotten!

TAKE HER ON A VACATION

And book the honeymoon suite. You’d be surprised at how many girls form emotional attachments with guys who simply shower them with love and affection. How many times have you heard women say things like “He wasn’t very attractive in the beginning but as time went by he got a lot better looking!” Even if the girl doesn’t get hooked on you -- she might get hooked on all the perks you offer her and thus -- still need your company. Either way, you’ve succeeded in making the girl need you.

A SMOOTH RIDE

Girls love a dope automobile. If you don’t have a $100,000 Mercedes, book a limo for a dinner date. Limos are long and seductive and make a girl sigh in submission at the very thought of their luxury and length.

UNDERSTAND THE SUBCULTURE

If you’ve been around enough trannies -- or ghetto hoochie working girls (in my case) -- demonstrate your knowledge of her friends’ ways and vernacular. Long ago, I befriended all the Colombian girls in Queens simply because I knew some Hispanic culture and spoke Spanish (Hey! I went to school, y’all!) Just a few “You go girls” accompanied with a finger snap will make the she males giggle and squeal! And you’ll be in -- all the way -- for your knowledge!

MAKE THE GIRL MONEY AND THEN BECOME HER AGENT!

This is a superfluous subhead in reality. Any guy who’s beautiful enough, built enough and hung enough knows a lot more about "management" than I do. But if you’re gorgeous, built and packin’ -- just pile drive the bitch into submission and then offer to post her on craigslist for free. If you can bring clients to the girl -- and help her make money -- you can usually negotiate your companionship in exchange. The next logical step? Impress her with the fact that she needs a financial manager -- and keep pounding her holes -- and leaving her breathless and powerless to not hand you all the money she just made.

Working girls often victimize all men -- except the one daddy to whom she’s emotionally enslaved! Now this is really tricky because generally, there’s only one high cock in an escort’s life. The competition can be fierce but hey -- if you win the gold medal you might as well go for the moolah, too. You can score ass anytime if you have money in your pocket. But having a girl give you hers? That’s a coup indeed!

All right, guys! Now you have the outline on how to turn the tide! Once you realize that you’re the ho and your escort is your trick -- is when you’ve finally won the game!

TELEMARKETING AND THE GOOD OLD DAYS!!

2009-07-13T08:59:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I was hungry enough to telemarket tranny advertisers. And it ain't gonna happen anytime soon. Trust me. So in order to avoid that nightmare I commissioned my "friends" and colleagues at the leading adult ad agency in NYC to forward me pix and phone numbers of their clients so I could put the girls up free for a while - until they made some money - and then start selling the space at a 30% commission.

Essentially, I followed the model of eros, who gave away ads for a long time and then charged the girls after all the content made the site popular. Thus, I composed an e-mail and began sending the letter to all the advertisers on backpage. And I now find myself back in the land of courting trannies.

Mostly, it's been OK. Not everybody takes the time to respond and send a pic for a free ad. But some have. And I really need to do more e-mail blanketing. Regardless, I'm beginning to remember how creatively shady the girls can be. One set of friends in particular has taken to sending multiple photos from different e-mail addresses. But it's clear it all comes from the same source. For one, every e-mail is cc'd to the original respondent. And almost nobody ever does that. So when I see four e-mails within two hours time come in that fashion....and all with text that says "Columbian t-girl," I'm bright enough to know the 411.

I don't really care about all that. I just want good content for the site. So check it out! The first e-mail from them contained three very nice photos of a girl who looked like she was born a female. And the photos had a web address down the side. So I went to the address and found it to be a Model's directory. Girls! This is exactly what I DON'T want: Stolen/unlicensed photography on my site so the girl or photographer can sue me. WHAT PART OF NO FAKE PIX DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?

Shadeeeee! It brings me back to the era of SCREW Magazine being virtually the only vehicle in which the girls could advertise.
Every Wednesday, dozens of trannies would descend on the office to run their ads. And each would sit in the outer office like they were waiting for the dentist as one by one, they filed in to deal with sales girl Serena, The Wicked Witch of the East. And wow! Was she the perfect douchebag to deal with the "shady ladies" or what?

And if you were fortunate enough (or unfortunate enough - depending on your point of view) to enter the outer office melee,
you got smacked in the face with the pungent aroma of like ten different over-applied perfumes. Yikes! I remember one time I walked in to go see The Editor...and ran into like four trannies I knew from selling them Action ads. There was a sort of incestuous tension with me visiting SCREW at the time because I had been a free-lance writer for SCREW for a few years and then got a sales job with the competition (Action Magazine). And Serena didn't like it. So all the girls gathered around me, flirting and asking stuff about their Action ads when Serena saw everything in her office camera and switched her fat fishy butt to the outer office to throw a fucking tantrum because I was invading her territory. It was complete bull shit! She saw the entire deal on the camera and was just being a jealous whore.

It did accomplish one thing, though. She freaked the girls out and they sat down and behaved themselves. Action worked a little bit for the trannies but without SCREW, they were screwed...and they didn't want to piss the queen off and have her intentionally fuck up their ads...which she did a pretty good job of unintentionally.

Well enough reminiscing for the moment. I have another SCREW story that's really hilarious but I'll save it for another time. Like how many loads can I blow on the same post?

The message? Girls! No phony pictures. thanks.

DRIVING MISS TRANNY!

2009-07-11T06:57:00.000-07:00

Dollar Bill jumps in his time machine and harkens back to those carefree days of yore when he chauffeured trannies all over town in his yellow cab! Usually the mysoginist idiot supreme, Squacky waxes surprisingly sensitive in this rare and thoughtful passage.

The other day as I gazed out my apartment window before setting off to do “my rounds,” I decided that the torrents of rain falling from the sky were just too much for me to negotiate on my bicycle. I’d been soaked one too many times on the job and this was the day I would forgo the bike in favor of buses, subways and oh my God...cabs. And so I packed my traveling office (pens, receipts, pepper spray, digital camera, copies of Screw, Escort, She Male, The Voice, and The Press, photos from the previous week whose owners wanted them returned, and finally, my notebook to jot down orders), grabbed an umbrella, and hit the streets.

And it wasn’t long before the buses were too slow and crowded and the subways too far a walk, before I hailed the dreaded yellow beast. As I climbed into the back seat, I was not only transported to my next stop - but also to my past - as I settled into a little space where I once spent virtually half my life! And then I thought “I’ve never written about my tranny experiences driving a yellow cab” (at least for She Male), “and that might be a good subject for my next feature.”

Driving a taxi 20 years ago was seriously dangerous business. Cabbies were by rule not allowed to lock their doors or refuse anybody who wasn’t under the influence. And many of us drove with no partition, which meant we were pretty much sitting ducks for any criminal in need of a few bucks. Given this harsh reality, we discriminated not against race as much as what we perceived as danger. A black guy in a suit was fine. Two drunken, tattooed crackers wielding a 40 of Bud weren’t. And a tranny? No problem - even when we recognized them as such. As a result, I did pick up virtually every tranny who waved, a series of occurrences over time which introduced me to the she male community and in some measure, trained me for the job I have today.

What I knew about transsexuals 25 years ago could have filled a thimble - maybe! I’d seen a loop on 42nd Street featuring a big, handsome, gay cracker dropping to his knees to suck a big, nasty, black dick which happened to be on a chick! I actually thought it was some kind of trick photography! I didn’t even realize that she males existed! And when I was on a musical road gig in Richmond, Virginia, I saw one in the lobby of The Capitol Hotel, the flea bag we stayed in for the week. And that was about it - until I got a hack license.

My virginal tranny voyage came late one night right after I dropped three Irish lads who’d come from watching their country compete in The World Cup. Moments after taking off, I spied four gorgeous, scantily clad babes in my rear view mirror hailing for my services. So I jammed on the brakes and backed up for mo’ money. And I mean these bitches looked great! They were a veritable tidal wave of big tits, long legs, and phat asses. I’d have fucked any one of them. There wasn’t a dog in the bunch. The black girls’ heavy juggs bouncing as she climbed into the front seat further made my mind swim with libidinal longings. One of the girls in the back seat had the most deliciously long legs I’d seen since I was knee high to John Holmes’ boner!

I continued viewing the world through rose-colored glasses until the girl next to me gave up the group’s destination. Her sonorous baritone ran the red warning flag straight up the pole. My baseball bat became a toothpick in a second. As their ride was a rather long one, I had the opportunity to listen to their banter - subject matter with which I am all too familiar at this point - for ten or fifteen minutes before arriving at their destination.

And as you guessed it, nothing about the state of US foreign affairs...nothing about the new show at The Met...and nothing about place settings at Bloomie’s entered into their discussion. Nope! Just a lot of dish about which girl was doing what with whom and where - and who was packing and who was lacking. It was a surreal trip which I found disturbing not because of the conversation - but because of how incredibly sexy these bitches were. Exactly how was a horny dude to reject the advances of something so red hot - even if she did have a dick between her legs? In truth, there were more than a few occasions when I pulled up on super fine ladies and began salivating only to once again be met with the deep basso profundo which gave away the amazingly sensual being’s darkest secret.

But not every transsexual who waved at me went unspooked by my not-so-discerning novice eye. Once I can remember being sexually harassed by an obvious beast who was deposited in my cab by what I made as a total poindexter trick. And she got to it in a hurry!

“I’m going to Edelweiss. Do you know where that is?” she baited me.

“Yes I do,” I answered dutifully.

“And do you know what goes on inside there?” she continued.

“Indeed I do,” was my response. “Freaks drop to their knees to blow freaks like you!”

Unabashed, she continued. “You know that guy just gave me $500 for an hour of my time because I have a big 8 inch cock which he loves to suck. What do you think of that?” she proclaimed triumphantly.

“Really,” I fired back. “I have an 8 FOOT cock which I could swing into the back seat if you’d like to wrap your little pussy mouth around a real man while I drive you to your destination.”

“You fucking taxi assholes have a wise crack for everything, don’t you,” she sputtered trying to keep up. With that Jungle Jane quieted down until we got to Edelweiss whereupon she paused after paying to say “Are you coming?” Gotta give a girl credit where credit was due. Just like a horny guy...she didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

Similarly, there were many she males who embarked to say things like “I bet the taxi driver has a big cock. Maybe he wants it sucked.” I never succumbed to any overtures like that but there was one instance during which I almost got myself into a sticky situation. I had just picked up a fare from The Pyramid, a pit of a club at A and 5th which boasted all kinds of metrosexual types as their clientele. For some reason, I presumed that the girl in the backseat was actually a girl and began flirting with “her.” The crossdresser I was approaching picked up on my vibe quickly. “How would you like to fuck this?” he asked brazenly. I took my eyes off the road just for a second and turned around to see a guys’ gnarly butt staring me in the face. Whoops! Not exactly what I was looking for.

Now you know nobody would believe any of this bull shit unless I admitted that at least once, I got duped and let a tranny blow me. And that fateful moment came at 6 AM one Sunday morning while I was rolling a joint on 26th Street between 9th and 10th Avenues. I’d worked 60 hours that Halloween week some 15 or 20 years ago and was feeling very relaxed and content in the knowledge that every bill was paid and all that the next day would bring was beer, Chinese food and a lot of football on the television.

My sublime yoga-like state of mind was interrupted by a friendly though mangy-looking black hooker coming to the window to ask if I wanted a blow job for ten dollars. In my entire career as a cabby, I bought sex in the street a grand total of 3 times. And this was the third. The fire sale was just too attractive. Ten bucks for a blow job? I couldn’t resist. And so she climbed in the front seat next to me and started playing with my governor which responded immediately to her touch (I was younger then.) Gazing upon my naked manhood, she drew some hot, purple lipstick from her bag, quickly applied it to what looked like the hungriest and horniest mouth on the planet, and dove. My heart pounded. The visual of this man-eating whore dressing her insatiable mouth for my invasion - not to mention the amazingly soft and sensuous sucking action that followed - was the sexual experience of the century - that is - until she tried to reach under my booty and finger my asshole while she blew me. Well, in my world, assholes are exits not entrances - and when I grabbed her forearm to indicate that I clearly did NOT want my asshole ravaged was when I suddenly realized I was getting blown by a tranny.

Just for a second, I went into a numbing brainlock. What to do? The next suck stroke answered my question. The softness of her swirly mouth and the undeniable acumen with which this person was blowing me trumped the moment. I’d had a great week...I was feeling good...I had a day off the next day...and I was getting what was close to the best blow job I’d ever had in my life. The fact that a tranny was administering all this pleasure just seemed irrelevant. So I blew a major load down her throat, zipped up, thanked her for the incredible service and sent her on her way. No big deal...just another story in the naked city.

And finally, I wouldn’t feel fulfilled if I didn’t relate one last story before signing off. This one had to do with crime and revenge - and a tranny was the perpetrator.

Egregious capitalist that I surely am, I always drove “gay day” or what the subculture calls “Gay Pride Week.” The Sunday of the parade is one of the busiest days of the year and unless you’re a diehard homophobe, any taxi driver who wants to pay the bills is out there working on that day. Six AM right at the end of my shift, a tranny flagged me at 38th and 9th requesting to go to 16th and 9th, just two blocks from my garage. Perfect! My last four bucks for the shift. But when we arrived, the bitch ran like a rabbit without paying. By the time I turned off the car and stuck the key in my pocket, the whore had enough of a head start to disappear into the projects.

So I walked back to the cab none too happy (cabbies hate fare beaters with a passion), climbed back in and turned right on 15th Street to return the cab to the garage. By the time I got to 15th and 10th there’s the fucking whore selling ass on the corner. So I got out of the cab again to a) see her running toward a trick’s car in fear and b) see several other trannies on the block checking out the situation.

Now I have a friend (who several months before had painted Star Taxi’s window at 14th and 9th) who described an incident he witnessed in the middle of the night which involved several trannies kicking the shit out of a trick right on the corner. And I had visions of this happening to me if I weren’t careful. Regardless, even though it was just four bucks, I would not be denied. So I returned the cab to the garage (just a short block and a half away), dropped my money belt with the dispatcher for safe keeping, and returned on foot to where I’d last seen my fare beater. Sure enough as I turned the corner, there she was! I demanded payment in a reasonably threatening tone apparently to no avail. In that pregnant moment, she decided I was all bark and no bite and actually snapped her fingers and sashayed away as if to say “And what are you gonna do about it, hot shot?”

So I punched her square in the fucking jaw, whereupon she dropped like a sack of potatoes and about three or four trannies took off after me. I tore my ass out of there as I had no desire to punch out all the trannies - just the one who beat me on the fare. And it was a good thing I did because as I sprinted back to the safety of the garage, several bottles exploded around me, obviously hurled my way by a group of she males who were prepared to defend their sister’s honor. It was a proud moment during which I took the law into my own hands, taking the four bucks out on the bitch’s face! Considering that the ”girl” was born a guy - and the fact that she’d stolen from me, I felt only pride - and not guilt - about socking her in the mouth. The only downside? I injured my forearm clocking the thief. But it was all better in a day.

And so ends my recollections of “Driving Miss Tranny.” Busting a hack in New York City is an amazing training ground for almost every occupation anybody unfortunate enough to get stuck in the front seat of a yellow cab can think of. And I was no exception. Those experiences picking up she male fares really did build a firm foundation for what I do for a living today.

INSIDE THE TRANNY MYSTIQUE: Sociopolitical Implications of the Gender Blur

2009-07-03T06:39:00.000-07:00

Pseudo intellectual Bottom-of-the Barrel Bill rears his ugly head once again this month to discuss the she male subculture’s sociological significance in 21st century society (yawn). Fortunately, he doesn’t take himself any more seriously than we do as reading Dollar's ramblings go perfectly with a good morning sit down.

Several years ago, I was riding down Interstate 95 to a family reunion -stuck in the car for hours with my mother and female cousin. As you can imagine, the conversation was not what I’m used to. Tea sets, the opera, golf, sales at Bloomingdale’s, and the stock market are rarely subjects for discussion in a whore house - or my house, either. And frankly, I was getting more than a little bored listening to a whole bunch of crap I mostly don’t give a fuck about. Somehow, at least momentarily, the girls ran into a lull in the conversation whereupon my mother derisively dared query “So Billy...what’s up with your ladies?”

This is always a touchy moment. My mother has had a morbid fascination with the weird shit I’ve done for a living ever since I started working. And whether it’s cab-driving stories, musician on-the-road stories, or hooker stories, she can go from wildly entertained - to nauseated by too much information - in an instant. So let’s see...”Hey ma! I got some free pussy from a hoochie with a phat ass the other day.” Nah! I don’t think so. “One of my she male customers had two guys on the corner at the same time. So she invited them both over and they ended up blowing each other - and they still paid her.” Nope! That one won’t work either.

Now I know how to approach my mother, cousin, and other intellectual squares with my escort biz anecdotes: I have to couch the salacious stories with some sort of sociological observation to legitimize myself and offer some sort of redemptive undertone to what I do all day. This time I led with an observation about trannies.

“Ma. I got a new tranny client who is unbelievably feminine. She’s actually becoming a famous model! She did a spread for Cosmo and they didn’t even know she was a he down there.” And then I hit a home run: “You know it used to be that there were two sexes. Now the line between the two genders is getting blurred to the point that it’s almost one continuum.”

Homer, babe! My super intelligent, super square corporate lawyer cousin jumped in enthusiastically “You know...that’s a very good thing!” and then went on a rant about women’s rights and feminism and how just maybe transsexualism will open the gate to true equality between the genders. Well, I rarely view my she male friends in any kind of intellectual context. Mostly, they talk about clients, and other girls, and sex and sex parts. Our repartee is rarely cerebral. But that doesn’t mean that the transsexual movement can’t contribute to the betterment of society. Which is to say...just ‘cause these Blow Job Annies aren’t aware of their contribution doesn’t mean that they aren’t contributing in some oblique way.

And then I got to think of a case in point: There’s a dumpsite called www.eros.com - an escort directory on the web for who I am literally forced to sell ads. I have a joke about them. I tell my colleagues “I wish eros would send me an encyclopedia of rules and regulations” with which they’re constantly breaking our balls! It’s one thing to have a bunch of rules...and it’s another to have one that is in violation of the constitution! And via their strict regimen, eros had unwittinlgy broken a law. One of the rules actually violated the civil rights of one of my she male clients.

A sex change (post-op ts) who I’ll call Bertha (I pick that name so there won’t be any cases of mistaken identity - there are no she male escorts named Bertha) had recently ordered a female eros ad. So I e-mailed the materials as I had done many times before and got a message back: “This looks like a transsexual.” I wrote back what I thought was the right answer: “Yes, she’s a post-op transsexual with a female ID.” She goes in the female category.

Nope! Eros wasn’t having it. “We don’t put she males with the females. It’s one of our rules.” Well, I let the whole thing go and caught a lecture from Bertha for divulging the truth about her gender. She knew eros to be unenlightened; I - at least for a moment - had forgotten. And suddenly, as I was riding with the girls, I realized that eros could - and should - be sued for a civil rights violation. In theory, eros rejecting Bertha’s female ad was tantamount to a country club excluding Jews - or a restaurant not serving Negroes. Maybe it’s a stretch - but then again.

Lynn (my cousin) was fascinated and agreed with me when I presented the case that indeed, the girl did have grounds for a lawsuit and that in fact, the entire case could be very cutting edge. And so there it was, courtesy of my transsexual clients and an off-the-cuff comment, I had engaged my brainstorm family in a heated discussion about women’s rights, genderism, discrimination, civil rights and several other issues which we discussed for quite a while.

Upon returning to the city, I queried Doug Simmons, the managing editor of The Village Voice. He thought the topic was fascinating. The only problem was I couldn’t write it because I was the ad rep involved. (Journalists! What a pain in the ass.) Then I called an old she male client who had passed the bar several months before and had become a lawyer. She knew another lawyer who had represented she males in two separate cases, one involving two girls who were fired from their dancing jobs at The Sound Factory because they were she males...and the other an incident during which two trannies got thrown out of a Toys ‘R’ Us in Brooklyn. In both cases, the she males won their cases. And she felt that Bertha’s case would be a winner as well.

Believe it or not, I actually set up an appointment with the two lawyers to stick it up eros’ ass - and represent for my client who as I mentioned, was angry with me for divulging the truth in the first place.

Alas! Then came the attack of the stupid ass tranny. Apparently, Bertha was on welfare and was deathly afraid she would lose her handout if she pursued the case. Wait a minute! You’re making thousands a week “escorting,” and you collect welfare, too! Talk about a drain on the system!

So that was it for that case. I was only mildly disgusted. The Voice wasn’t hiring me to write the story - and I had no financial stake in convincing the scofflaw tranny to pursue her case. So fuck it! I of course reported all this to Lynn and my mother and we all came to more or less the same conclusion: While the movement may have meaning and significance, we couldn’t reasonably expect that one she male hooker on welfare was enlightened enough to risk her freebee.

WHEN SHE MALES AND FEMALES WORK TOGETHER

It doesn’t happen that often, but sometimes transsexual madams integrate into employing and advertising for females. And when this happens, they often hang and work in the same apartment. The most mind-boggling moment I’ve ever experienced courtesy of this particular phenomenon happened in a ghetto spot on 34th Street. We were sitting around “conversatin’” (I love that word) when one of the girls began gossiping about a she male in the house having a crush on one of the females. Square that I am (or was at the time), I asked the obvious question: “What’s the point of turning yourself into a woman if you’re just gonna go hit on born females? Haven’t you gone a long way around to come back to the same place?”

To which one of the girls explained with disdain for my ignorance “There’s such a thing as a transsexual lesbian!” Oh no! A she male dyke! What next?!?! And of course to add an ironic twist to the insanity, you had to know that the tranny was way cuter than the bitch she had a crush on. So is this hell in a hand basket - or sociological evolution? Is it the end of the world - or cultural enlightenment? Rednecks would tell you the former; intellectual liberals the latter.

Another interesting observation I have on she males working with females is that it seems clients have also gotten lost in the blur and confusion. Once exclusively heterosexual, many men have been enticed into the tranny world by the ads they see, and end up sucking dicks when they never would have if there were no trannies in the first place. You could argue that tranny chasers would find their way to fellating somebody at some point anyway. But I’m not so sure.

Regardless, when she males and females working together bond (and this works with females and females as well), they often try to convince the client to include the friend for an extra fifty or hundred dollars. So more often than you think, a guy goes to see a female and once erect gets approached to include a she male in the session. Caught with his pants down and his dick up, he’s lost in “the blur,” and takes the bait. When he walked in the joint he wasn’t planning on fucking around with a tranny. But when he left, he realized he already had! Hey, he fucked somebody with big tits and a phat ass. And it felt good. No sociological observation for the guy. He busted. That’s all that mattered.

And for me? I’ll tell you what matters right now. I’ve completed yet another feature for “She Male,” (hooray!) and I can now order some Chinese food with a guiltless conscience. Procrastination over; I’ve done my job. Break out the beer and spare ribs!

THE DO'S AND DON'TS OF TRANNY CHASING!

2009-07-02T07:54:00.000-07:00

Sliding into the netherworld of transsexual subculture is a delicate operation for sure. And who better to guide us through the gauntlet than Dollar Bill, our resident liaison to the chicks with dicks set? Does he know what he’s talking about? Doubtful, but who cares? There’s always a juicy tidbit nestled somewhere in the stenchy dung heap he calls an article.

Whether the object of your insatiable lust is female or she male, there are always an encyclopedia of helpful tips to guide a guy into the pants of the girl of his dreams. Generally, what applies to females is similarly relevant for she males as well. But there are some subtle (and not-so-subtle) differences when dealing with the two groups.

To begin, let’s deal with phone call protocol when dialing the number in a she male -- or female -- escort ad. Because the girls are constantly on the lookout for law enforcement, your initial contact should be forthright, straightforward and well-behaved. The girls don’t want to field questions as to what they’ll do or not do sexually. Don’t tell them how big your dick is. Trust me...they don’t care! Simply state your name when asked and answer whatever questions they ask! No girl wants to out you for what you’re doing. They only want to determine that letting you enter their workplace won’t result in an arrest or a mugging! So give them your name and whatever else they need to make them feel comfortable about meeting up with you.

With trannies, don’t harp on their dick size forever! Yes, you can ask the relevant question -- but take the simple answer and move on. I can remember on numerous occasions hearing she male customers sass idiots who stay on the subject too long.

In one case, the girl put her mouth right on the receiver and responded “Big enough to make you scream, maricon!” when he over pursued the subject. And another time, after getting the length straight, an overly inquisitive consumer wanted to know about the circumference as well. The tranny, disgusted with the line of questioning blurted “I don’t even know the meaning of the word” and hung up in his face!

She males like straight men. That’s one of the reasons they become she males: So they can attract guys who like a feminine form. Ask a lot of questions about their dicks and they make you for a sissy faggot -- and don’t want to see you.

And that leads us to a related do/don’t. Don’t act gay! The straighter you appear to be...the more attractive you’ll be to a she male. Remember that a significant percentage of she males’ boyfriends are guys they picked up in clubs who didn’t initially realize they were pursuing a chick with a dick! Uhh...did I mention she males like straight-acting guys? OK! Let’s move on.

Once you meet up with your date, you’ll probably have to take your clothes off immediately. Yes, it’s not very romantic, but in theory, this practice proves that you aren’t a police officer -- as they aren’t allowed to disrobe before making a bust. Once you become a “regular” the girl may dispense with this formality, but at the outset, you really have no choice but to obey this rule if you wish to continue.

Don’t suggest that you’d like to do something sexually risky. I hear stories about guys who want to blow she males sans rubber -- and similarly unbelievable requests. This may sound strange but escorts generally consider their clients to be nasty, promiscuous mother fuckers who they certainly don’t want to risk their lives for. Which party is more promiscuous in reality is irrelevant. In this case, perception IS reality and your date will be totally turned off in the assumption that you spend all your waking hours trying to convince girls to practice unsafe sex!

If there’s a particular style of rubber and/or lube you prefer, BRING IT! It’s not a big expenditure -- and it does afford you the convenience of using your favorite product while impressing the girls with your thoughtfulness, generosity and health-conscious attitude.

NEVER show up unshowered, stinky or with skid marks on your underwear. Nothing is a bigger turnoff than a dirty man. On numerous occasions I’ve heard girls complain “How come guys don’t know how to wipe their asses?” Enough said!

Arriving with a token of your esteem may seem corn ball but for some reason always seems to lubricate the wheels of progress. She males have a feminine mentality and respond to the same dumb gushy stuff that females do -- even if you think it’s ridiculous. So stop off and pick up some flowers or a box of candy. You’ll be amazed at the mileage you get from one considerate moment.

All trannies should always be referred to as “she,” NEVER call a tranny “He.” Chicks with dicks are girls - pure and simple. Don’t ever make the mistake! I had a colleague who worked for another magazine who wasn’t familiar with she males. He was about to consummate a sale for his publication when he he signed off the phone call with “Thanks, guy.”

Said she male called me up to relate the incident asking how she should back out of the purchase, citing she really wasn’t comfortable giving money to a salesman who referred to her as “guy.” When I was a cab driver, I used to roll down Washington Street yelling out the window “Wassup, dudes?” to the tranny street hookers just to fuck with them. But at least I knew exactly what I was doing. Some guys just don’t understand!

Try to familiarize yourself with transsexual culture without overdoing it. You’re not a tranny so you can only become a subculture member to a certain degree -- but not completely. Understand the delicate line which separates you from being hip versus a solicitous asshole. Know their lingo and use their vernacular occasionally.

If a tranny shows off a new outfit, you could respond “That’s quite fetching,” or “You’re dazzling in your new dress.” And those would be fine. But if the mood is right (and you have to be the judge) “You better work, showgirl. That outfit is over!” might really gain you entrance on several levels.

Be careful with augmented body parts! Trannies boast a lot of delicate, synthetic infrastructure. Don’t paw and grope on her tits and ass like a fucking bear. You can do damage if you don’t know your own strength! Proceed in all physical areas with caution and discretion and only get rougher if she gives you the signal.

Don’t complain about the size or hardness of her erection. How would you do if you had to fuck five ugly women per day? Try to see a she male early in her work day when she’s relatively fresh! If you’re client number five late at night, what can you reasonably expect? Born females can lube up and accommodate you all day and night. But if you want your tranny rock hard, that’s a different story. You’re running a gauntlet. What can I say?

If you’re out at a club with mixed company (straight guys/straight girls/gay guys etc.) and you spy a tranny you like, approach her as if she’s a natural born woman. Trannies love to think they’re unspookable even when completely obvious. They want to attract straight men. So feed the fantasy. Act surprised if she divulges her orientation -- which she probably won’t. Play the game. If she takes you home, be content to fuck her titties and accept that she’s on her period. She’s just warming you up for the moment she’s afraid might send you running for the hills.

Really, most of this stuff is intuitive -- but it bears relating as some guys just have no intuition! So proceed with consideration, tact, class and style and you should be just fine! And if you can’t muster that, be good-looking, have a big dick -- or a big wallet -- and that’ll work, too. It’s really not that difficult to spark a tranny!

MY FAVORITE TRANNY STORIES!

2009-07-02T05:50:00.000-07:00

What a crime! Yet another not-ready-for-prime-time tale of slime from our anti-hero! Dollar’s got crazy tranny stories. Too bad none of them are funny. Whatever! Maybe there will be a chuckle or two so read on!

As you can imagine, after years of hanging out in the pay-for-play netherworld, I got mad stories from the front. In fact, numerous individuals have suggested “You gotta write a book” after hearing one of literally thousands of anecdotes I’ve related to people who don’t hang out in incalls all day. And while the fish have their share of relatable tales, the she male -- that purveyor of the most forbidden of fruits -- may be the best source for the unimaginable and unbelievable.

Very possibly my #1 favorite transsexual story came recently from one of my oldest and dearest she male buddies. It seems she was out one night with a female friend when at 4 A.M., while they were making a purchase in a deli, Alex happened upon what she described as a beautiful Italian policeman. Thinking she was a female, he hit on her in the store, successfully enough to persuade Alex to give him her phone number. He promised to call around 6 AM when his shift broke and sure enough, at about 6:30, she was awakened by a call. It WAS the cop and soon he was on his way over for a nightcap.

Within say 15 minutes filled with idle banter, Mr. Protect and Serve had his mouth and hands all over Alex’s tits. She, clearly in heat, crossed her legs to squash the boner she was popping, and allowed the stud to kiss her neck and suck her tits - and you get the idea.

Well it wasn’t long (no pun intended) before they adjourned to the bedroom where she blissfully gobbled on his big police dick until the moment he sneaked his hand down to her pussy and got a handful of the unexpurgated truth! And the dude freaked. Alex said his dick went from like a foot to an inch in two seconds. The cop jumped up from the bed, literally threw on his clothing, and ran for the door. Well, this would be a good story right there but then...she saw a bag in the corner which didn’t belong to her. So she sneaked a peak to see that HIS SHIELD AND PISTOL WERE PART OF THE CONTENTS. Oh no! Grounds for termination, dude. How about exercising a little self-control?

Within seconds, there was a harsh bang on the door. Knowing who and what all the noise was about, she cracked the door and threw the bag out in the hall. End of story, right? NOT. A week later, the same cop called to see if he could come over. Man oh man! I guess that tranny head was just too fucking good eh, Mr. Gendarme? Whatever, she wouldn’t entertain his overtures. The first experience was just too freaky. Handsome guys with big dicks come a dime a dozen for this particular tranny. One indiscretion was enough. She wasn’t about to entertain another.

I’m sure you’re all familiar with the protocol when seeking entry to escort's abodes. “Call me from the corner” is the line we all know! Just like fishing, sometimes the fish are biting -- and sometimes you just sit there with your line in the water wondering whether there are any fish left in the ocean! And it’s the same way for she male escorts. Feast or famine can often be the order of the day and too many times, a girl is stuck between a rock and a hard place with not one -- but two guys calling from the corner simultaneously. Usually, the savvy receptacle will stall one -- and then rush the other -- hoping to score two quick paydays without losing either. Indeed, I’ve heard stories of girls inhabiting big incalls entertaining two clients at the same time going back and forth from the two rooms, giving each guy just enough of her time to turn the trick(s) -- so to speak!

Well, this particular she male had a two-floor apartment and when confronted with the quandary simply invited both over at the same time hoping to service each alternately. The plan worked momentarily until the two guys began to realize what was going on and one suggested they all get together. Lace (the tranny) brought the two guys together to the main floor whereupon the two guys began blowing each other -- actually excluding her from the action. And did she feel like the odd man out? Hell no! She was ecstatic having been paid by both guys while she simply watched AND got paid. Talk about a windfall! Awesome. Whoever coined the phrase “men are like dogs” could point to this anecdote as actual and irrefutable proof of the veracity of his (or her) statement.

What seems like a hundred years ago now, I had the unfortunate job of collecting ad dollars from a big tranny house run by a freak named Iman. And I hated going over there. The bitch was incredibly cheap for starters -- so there would always be a hot negotiation prefaced by a forty minute wait during which most if not all of the trannies in attendance would walk through the apartment in various stages of penile tumescence as they passed to and fro from the tricks in the rooms (gaag)!!

On one of these visits, an old German tranny named Morgan asked me what I knew about penile enlargement. Fresh and green as I could be with respect to the she male community, I answered in a medical and clinical fashion listing the pros and cons and finally not recommending the procedure. A couple of visits later while once again waiting too long for my money, I got a glimpse of Morgan coming out of the shower. And the freak had one huge fucking dick! I mean...it looked more like a foot than a cock. All I could think was “You wanna make that monster bigger? What...are you trying to join the circus to bust out small whimpering elephant virgins for a cheering crowd? I guess when it comes to dogs of the male persuasion, we just can’t ever have enough!

Sometimes trannies aren’t that bright. Enter Deborah, a surged out beast who called one day to ask about a tip she’d received from a client. The customer had tendered legal tender of a unique sort as a gratuity -- 2 one hundred year old gold coins! After a brief description of the bounty, I realized that the coins in question were actually 1906 $20 double eagles, which contain an ounce of gold each! Now if they’re in good shape, they’re worth even more than the current $920 per ounce price of the precious metal. Of course the “good shape” part was becoming a problem. Deborah had actually taken a hammer to one of the coins to check out its authenticity!

“Honey, you understand that you depreciated the value of the coin when you did that! Why don’t you just go out on Second Avenue and have a truck run it over while you’re dingbattin’ a thousand!” Then I tried to buy the coins for $500 -- albeit unsuccessfully. I’d revealed too much info and Deborah -- though not that bright -- had caught on that she was holding something much more valuable than she realized. Eventually, girlfriend went to a dealer and got the real price for the coins which ain’t bad -- considering Deborah has been known to hit the pipe on more than a few occasions.

And finally, I told this story to a dominatrix who responded that she too had seen the guy -- but that he’d only given her one coin as a tip. Oh well, I guess Deborah’s dick was more exciting than her tits -- which would account for why the dickless female got shortchanged.

In this day and age, we rarely hear about illiteracy. Maybe 150 years ago on the frontier - where there were precious few schools or time to attend them -- it was much more prevalent than it is today. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t an occasional individual who simply can’t read or write. And then there was Ginger, a forty something beast of a tranny who was not only a little slow - but a lot illiterate. Now this wouldn’t be particularly funny except the friend who divulged this little fact to me commented “We bought the bitch Hooked On Phonics but it was hopeless.” Just the image of a she male monster (this one looked about as much like a girl as I do) sitting in front of a child’s learning toy while surrounded by a gaggle of she male professoresses -- was just too ticklish. I couldn’t be sensitive -- mostly because I didn’t like the girl in the first place. We had a good laugh at Ginger’s expense. Why not? She’s an asshole anyway!

OK! I'm trannied out for the moment. Now it's on to the hetero column. have fun SAFELY!

INSIDE THE TRANNY MYSTIQUE: Why Are So Many Guys Interested In She Males?

2009-07-01T12:25:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder why the alternative newspapers advertise so many trannies? Dollar Bill doesn’t! He knows there’s an ever growing division of guys who seek the company of the she male set. And here he offers his sexpert analysis, peeling back the layers and debunking all the mythology associated with the forbidden netherworld so many guys are intent on entering.

Just hanging out at the bike shop...bullshitting with the mechanics as they true my wheels and adjust my brakes, when Jay, the stand-up comic in the bicycle fixing bunch, begins thumbing through the transsexual ads in one of the local sex papers. He nods his head at some...furrows his brow at others...and finally shares his impressions with his audience:

“You know there’s nothin’ like a big-dicked transsexual,” he mugs for the boys. Everybody laughs... but some of the guys appear a little uneasy...like they’ve had a Funky Cold Medina experience they may or may not want to share. Jay, himself is married with a child. He’s just joking around...or is he? Transsexual escorts have become an ever-growing segment of the pay-for-play industry...and all the “girls” insist that a very significant percentage of their clients are either married or in (supposedly) monogamous relationships with women.

Now, I’m a tranny chaser of sorts...but I don’t hound them for sex...I harass them for money. I’m an escort biz ad rep, and I know that more so than with any other class of trade, I can guarantee an attractive she-male working girl a handsome profit in a multitude of advertising vehicles...all due to the fact that men who purchase companionship have become increasingly interested in transsexuals.

So what’s the big deal? Why is this class of trade exploding exponentially? Who visits transsexuals...and what do they do in session? These are all taboo questions the answers to which most of society is too repressed or scared to even consider.

For starters...who pays transsexuals for their time? Everybody...that’s who. Single guys, married guys, couples, and even an occasional female will call to book their services. Often, in the course of selling and collecting, I find myself sequestered behind curtains, or pass by the customers as they come and I leave. And not once have I seen a client who looked or sounded at all gay. The tranny client wears no garb or displays any affectations that would give his predilections away, all of which boggles the mind when you consider the majority of these men have wives or girlfriends who are completely unaware of their partner’s extracurricular activities.

The next question is: What does the customer like to do in the room? Are the clients of the opinion that someone born with the same sex organ knows how to service a man better than a genetic female who can only imagine how that service feels?

Well, maybe there are a few guys who simply pay for the privilege of getting serviced by someone extremely gifted at performing that service, and ask for nothing more for their money. But according to the girls, they’re the exception rather than the rule. The overwhelming majority of clients are as interested in giving as they are in receiving. Worshipping the tubular god seems to be a priority with most tranny chasers. Knee pads would be as appropriate as standard issue as shower sandals in an Asian massage place.

I’ve heard a lot of bluster about the psychology behind the entire tranny-chasing phenomenon, and it all seems to boil down to this: Tranny chasers are basically heterosexual men. They like tits, feminine curves and the smoothness of a woman’s body. But at the same time, they’ve watched too many porno flicks, and heard too many women differentiate among men according to the size, shape, hardness, color and whatever else can distinguish one organ from another, rather than a few other personal
traits that just might be relevant. And they want to join the party. The thought of making love to a man...complete with stubble and a hairy body...is repulsive. But stick a hard-on on a gorgeous almost female, and legions of horny guys are lined up for the thrill.

Think I’m kidding about married guys patronizing transsexual hookers? Just a month ago, I was visiting with a client, an owner with a small one-bedroom/three girl transsexual incall, when the place got busy...and in a hurry. First, one guy buzzed and was escorted to the bedroom. And then..a second.

“Billy, jump in the shower,” the boss requested. Not a problem for me. I’ve been hidden under beds, behind doors...whatever. I was still waiting for details of ad changes and the payment. Well, I assumed the girls would have some way to handle both clients...I just didn’t realize exactly how they would manage the predicament.

It was easy. While I hid behind a translucent curtain, two girls took a middle-aged, Florida-tanned run-of-the-mill-looking Joe, and basically raped him. Right on the couch, not five feet from where I was hidden, girl #1 lay the man down on his back and stuffed his face with her cock and balls. At the same time, her partner slobbered all over the trick’s dick as the face stuffer rooted her friend’s cocksucking on. And the guy hadn't even tendered any cash yet.

Not content to tag team the poor guy with a face stuffing and a cock sucking, girl #2, rammed a big dildo up the guy’s ass. And all this while I was standing in a shower stall waiting for payment.

After a few minutes they broke to usher him into a vacated room when the guy uttered the magic words: “If my wife could only see me now.” You’re goddamn right mother fucker! She hasn’t seen your dick get that hard in a decade!

Sometimes, though rarely, the husband comes out of the closet and decides to book a she-male for himself and his wife. Many of the “girls” aren’t down with this program. Transsexuals are not sexually attracted to women (remember they were born gay men) and as a result, usually can’t perform with genetic females (derisively know as fish in the subculture). But there’s an occasional she male who can..and she gets paid handsomely for servicing the hubby’s betrothed.

The spell the lure of the she male sex can cast on some men is so strong that several celebrities have risked their careers and reputations just to satisfy their primal urges. The most noteworthy of course is Eddie Murphy, an alleged tranny chaser whose tendencies were well known within the community way before the law of averages finally caught up to him, and he was outed for picking up a tranny at 5 A.M. to “give her a ride home.”

If you think America was shocked by the revelation about Eddie, imagine how the Enquirer reading public would react if Corbin Bernsen, Robert Downey Jr., Anthony Mason, David Hasselhoff, Burt Young, Jean Claude Van Damme, and Charley Sheen, all of whom have been ralleged to play with she males, were added to the list. Clearly, the interest in transsexuals is not limited to the common man.

If you think the sexual orientation of a tranny chaser is confusing... or difficult to accurately describe without adding at least one new word to the English language, the transsexuals themselves are really pushing the boundaries of redefined sexual orientation.

In one rare house where genetic females, gay males and transsexuals work side by side, it was divulged to me over a few late night beers that Apples, an intoxicating and very passable transsexual, had a crush on Rachel, a genetic female.

Asked why Apples would become a chick so she could fall in love with another woman, the other TS working the joint indignantly informed me “There’s such a thing as a transsexual lesbian.” I never imagined I could be so naive. And with respect to the customers crossing society’s lines of delineation which define sexual orientation, the “girls” are quick to point out that several of their clients will see genetic females as well as transsexuals...depending on their mood. But almost never will that same guy book a male, supporting the theory that tranny chasers really do like feminine figures. It’s just that sometimes they want a pussy on that body...and sometimes they want a cock.

With respect to the all important fourth measurement, you can bet that’s what interests the customers more than anything else. You think all women are size queens? They can’t hold a candle to the tranny chasers in that department!

Emerald, one of my favorite transsexual beauty queens loves to put me on three way so I can hear what the boys have to say to her over the phone. The insight is spectacular. They almost always stammer breathlessly...like they’re so hot and horny for that taboo chick with a dick, they’re about to bust a nut or drop to their knees before they even get through the door.

And as you might expect, they all ask the magic question. But sometimes mere length isn’t enough information. One guy needed to know the circumference as well. Emerald countered with “Oh, come on baby! I don’t even know the meaning of the word,” as she banged the phone in his ear with disgust.

“Billy. I can’t deal with these freaks anymore,” she complained in dismay. I guess the question as to who’s the freak is all a matter of perspective.

And while we’re on the subject of dick size...how is it possible that every transsexual escort has at least eight inches...with the average being along the lines of 10 and a half. I mean...where are these girls measuring from?

Well, some measure from their nipple on down...while others don’t need to exaggerate. Remember...they’re all born men...and just like men...they tend to vary. And any tranny chaser looking for a hung she male to play with won’t have to look far to find one.

Of course, how hard that dick will get is another issue entirely. Daily injections of estrogen, coupled with too many clients in a day can often leave a transsexual hopelessly flaccid. But others who take moderate hormone doses and have exceptional libidos can successfully negotiate a full hard-on.

My best advice for the curious: If you want to experience the wild, weird, wacky world of transsexual escorts, do it first thing in the morning when the girls are fresh. Genetic female hookers can KY down all day and service ten or more guys without a problem. She males aren’t afforded that luxury. Most of the guys like their cocks big and hard. Catch a tranny at the wrong time and you might be disappointed. ‘Nuff said. A word to the wise should be sufficient.

Well there you have it... one very experienced man’s take on she male love and the psychology involved in making the fad so popular. Armed with this insider’s information, beginners as well as veterans should now have a working knowledge of how to go about entering and navigating through the mind-numbing netherworld of the she male escort.

If you have some ambivalence on the subject, and feel you won’t be able to look in the mirror if you finally break down and act on your most primal of urges, look at it this way: You only live once...so you might as well go for all the fulfillment life has to offer.And if part of that fulfillment involves a beautiful, sexy, big-breasted chick who just happens to have a long, fat dick..go for it! And on that note - whatever your thing is - let’s go get laid!

A GLOSSARY OF TERMS

2009-07-01T09:36:00.000-07:00

Ya know...if you really wanna be down with the trannies, it helps to understand their lifestyle and master their vernacular! In fact, she males have their own subculture which can be quite cliquish. So to help you bust through that wall and enter the world of the forbidden fruit...here we go with a glossary of terms which once mastered will let the object of your lust know in no uncertain terms that you are a force to be reckoned with! This was the sidebar to the previous post which once upon a time ran as a feature in Screw Magazine.

Knowing the vernacular and colloquialisms of any subculture is paramount in entering (no pun intended) that clique and befriending its members. And with she males, it’s especially true. With that in mind, we present some catch phrases and hip expressions with which to impress and ingratiate yourself to the object of your deepest and darkest desires.

MISS HONEY: Almost any she male or female for that matter, who is physically attractive, knows it, and knows how to show it off.

OVER: Pronounced “ova” and often accompanied with a finger snap, this term generally connotes success, beauty, flamboyance, intelligence and almost anything positive. For example, if a girl is wearing a particularly beautiful dress to a function, another partygoer might exclaim “Oh Miss Honey is over in that dress.”

PACKIN’: If a client or she male is “packin’,” it means he or she has a big dick.

PASSABLE: means that a she male looks so feminine that often nobody will know they’re not in the presence of a natural-born woman without being told.

SERVING: If “Miss Honey” is serving, she’s showing off all her God and doctor-given assets and doing the best she can with what she has to offer, whether it’s in photos, on the dance floor or runway, or even in the bed sucking your knob like no other skanky female has before.

SHOWGIRL: is really any she male who looks good enough to be on a runway. Often a term of salutation, she males might great their friends with “What’s up, showgirl.” If it were two frat boys the expression would be “What’s up, dude?”

SPOOKED or SPOOKABLE: is an expression which refers to a situation or a she male who is not feminine enough to fool the entire world at large when she’s seen in public. If you were in Macy’s and you saw a she male who you recognized as such, it means you “spooked” her. And if a girl is “spookable,” it means that anybody with eyesight and half a brain would know the person in question was born male. It has nothing to do with the girls being Afro-American.

SURGED: When a she male has been to the plastic surgeon too many times and looks even faker than Michael Jackson, she’s said to be “surged.”

WORK or YOU BETTER WORK: Again, this has nothing to do with actually going to a job. It simply means that you better show it off and bring it to the fore to the best of your ability, regardless of the activity.

YOU GO, GIRL!” see “you better work.” Essentially the terms are interchangeable.

TRANNIES ON TOUR!

2009-07-01T09:10:00.000-07:00

Always the keen observer, Dollar Bill the academician, waxes professorial in this insightful analysis of a new business trend in the tranny escort business, the phenomenon of she males hitting the road to satisfy the ever-growing nationwide army of tranny chasers’ lust.

The business of selling “companionship” has certainly evolved rapidly over the past few years. Once upon a time trannies didn’t have a lot of choices as to how to attract clientele. Street corners and neighborhood bars were basically their milieu. There were no papers or websites available for them to advertise their wares. Then along came SCREW and some other alternative weeklies to expand the options of a money-seeking she male.

Well, that was all good if you were happy to work one city or close geographic area. But what could a tranny on-the-go with a fierce case of wanderlust do? Take a bus and find a street corner in another city? Or look through the Yellow Pages hoping to locate a bar where tranny chasers like to hang out? Hmmm! Not that simple. But those days are over! With the invention of the internet and the emergence of the web to aid and abet the hustle, trannies can come and go as they please with relative ease!

Let’s say you’re a she male who is essentially burned out in a particular area. Every tranny chaser in the city has seen you and is well aware that your dick doesn’t get hard -- or that the dick in your ad is really someone else’s (whose is much larger) -- or you give lousy service -- or you have lousy reviews on TER - or whatever causes a local escort to fall out of favor with the customers. Are you stuck picking up the dregs - eking out a modest living? Hell no!

Here’s the deal: Said tranny contacts her ad rep or calls eros herself and books a “visiting” ad in almost any major metropolis you can think of in the continental united States - and some foreign ports as well! The cost of a two week ad is a whopping $120. Gosh! You think she can afford it? Then she goes on hotels.com and finds a reasonable hotel in that city to receive the customers. Cost? About $150/day at the most!

Finally...the plane, bus or train ride - all of which can be booked on hotwire, expedia, priceline and a multitude of other discount travel sites. Price? A few hundred dollars at most. Today’s cell phones almost all have free national calling so no problem with that. The entire nation has effectively become a local call! So she can use her current phone virtually anywhere.

And if the girl has a computer -- or an ad rep who does craigslist -- she can post herself (or get posted) the instant she hits the new town! Tranny chasers from the new area are always looking for some new meat and bada boom...guys are calling and offering their hard-earned cash to hang out almost the moment she arrives.

As a result of this new opportunity, guys like me who book ads for the girls are besieged by orders for eros visiting ads. South Beach, Chicago, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Boston and even off-the-beaten path locations like Columbus, Toledo or Akron where eros is NOT - but craigslist IS - are all destinations for touring trannies!

Having drained the local freaks of every last tranny-chasing drop of their energy, they return home with wads of cash and lots of stories with which to regale anybody interested.

But there’s no free lunch in this world and there is a downside to this nomadic experience. First, it’s bad enough to get busted in your own hometown -- but getting arrested in a city where you know nobody and are unfamiliar with the local statutes and protocol is no party. Local gendarmes who don’t appreciate escorts invading their territories are likely to target the visitors hoping to make an example of the girls who think they can barnstorm a location, extract a huge amount of money -- and then leave with a sack of their local cash!

Second, muggers, thieves, hustlers and the like tend to work the visiting ads, well aware that the girls are little Alices in Wonderland, just ripe for the picking. I mean...what could be easier than robbing a road escort?

And predictably. I’ve heard stories on both fronts. One girl got arrested in Atlanta and really had no idea how to handle the situation. She ended up in jail for days awaiting arraignment and disposition of the case before she could finally clear the fuck out of The South. Another two took the train to Philadelphia, earned a couple of grand in a day only to get relieved of all their earnings later that evening. Discouraged and scared, they returned to The Big Apple where they felt more secure, proclaiming they would never do the road thing again unless they knew the lay of the land and at least had a few friends in the new location!

For the adventurous she male, Europe is a gold mine waiting to be exploited -- especially if you’re a tranny of color in a country with very few of your kind. One she male related that on a trip to Germany, she banked big time with a division of Aryan zombies who’d never seen or experienced the likes of Miss Diamond! But given the language barrier, expensive fares, and passport problems for aliens ,this remains a relatively unexplored avenue of expression for most she males.

The Orient would really hold great promise for a black tranny. Can you imagine the flock of Asian guys who’d line up to pay a big-dicked black she male? My God! She’d need a barrel full of viagra to service them all!

Wherever the destination, today’s technologies have expanded the horizons of escorts of all classes of trade. Their job is to harvest money from clients and opportunities abound all over the world for them to reap their rewards. Staying in one location simply doesn’t make sense anymore. Business-minded trannies know to go on google and research where they will be welcomed.

Angie, a very civilized client of mine books numerous eros visiting ads and often says “I cleaned up here..or there! But don’t tell the other girls. They’ll ruin it!” The trick is to stray off the path and find some fertile but uncultivated soil.

In a similar vane, it’s occurred to me to call up every eros ad in every city and offer to post the girls on craigslist in that locale -- for a fee of course. And I’m sure with a little industry, savvy and effort, I could bank nicely just sitting at home and putting up ads for escorts I’ve never even met. PayPal would do the trick effectively allowing me to hit the virtual road on a quest for even more and more annoying, ball-breaking clients (just what I need)! Fortunately, I have enough bull shit to deal with right here in The Big Apple. I have no life already. I certainly don’t need to complicate my existence by soliciting out-of-town flatbackers for their business!

And on that note....see ya next post!

HOW TO SPOOK A TRANNY!

2009-07-01T08:39:00.000-07:00

Given all the she males Dollar Bill has known over the years, if there’s one thing he should be good at it would be how to “spook” a she male. No...not how to scare her...but how to detect the on-the-down-low three-legged femme fatale in almost the same way you might figure out that some guy with a $2,000 toupee is actually bald!

It’s happened to everybody! You go to a bar...and there’s this chick. She’s looking at your crotch - checking out the package - as she licks her lips. You think you’ve died and gone to heaven. Finally, some bitch is drooling in anticipation of sucking your big hog. OK! So you get her home, start fooling around, and then let your fingers head south. It’s the moment of truth!! Are you ready for the forbidden fruit or not? Some guys dive and gobble. Some guys knock the bitch out. Regardless, you find yourself in an awkward position. Maybe, there’s somebody out there who can help you avoid these uncomfortable moments? And that’s where I, Dollar Bill, come in to save the day. Cape and all, I’m here to let you know how to ascertain that even the most feminine and gorgeous of women is in fact not born that way.

In this day and age of advanced surgery, depilation and hormone therapy, some trannies have become remarkably gorgeous and almost totally “unspookable.” But there are certain signs that will let you know that beneath her legs lurks that long, thick, hard male weapon - and not a stinky little hole you have no interest in - which is why you’re a tranny chaser in the first place. Yeah, pussy is good sometimes - we know. But nothing beats the thrill of a she male sex nympho! That’s why this magazine sells so well.

Spooking really good-looking she males involves not just your eyesight - but all the senses. For example, trannies generally wear strong, wafty, and very seductive perfume. A real girl’s scent is gentle and subtle, giving off a come hither style air. A tranny’s is in your face. IT says “Come suck my big cock and then I’ll suck yours which I’ll bet is even bigger!!” So your sense of smell can be helpful in spooking a hot tranny. I remember during the heyday of Screw, walking into the outer office to see and smell ten trannies waiting to run their ads. The power of all the perfume was overwhelming - and nauseating. All I could think of at the time was ten trannies in a pile, fucking and sucking and spunking and getting down and dirty super slut style with anybody who wanted to join in. The editors used to run through the crowd, pinching their noses all the way, as they exited for lunch hour at the local deli.

Your sense of hearing can also be a tool in this pursuit. Trannies have very exaggerated vocal tones and their own language. While some have had their vocal chords shortened - and others consciously raise their vocal pitch when they speak, often their voices will crack like an adolescent’s or simply be too deep to go unnoticed and unquestioned.
The tranny’s vocabulary is also very different from a natural born woman’s. Expressions like “ova,” “you go girl,” “oh, scandal,” and several others are clear indications that the “female” before you actually has a dick under her skirt or at least, that she you hangs out with a lot of she males and should be placed under suspicion.

Your sense of touch is another sensual tool to help you ascertain the birth gender of your prey. As in...if you go to finger her and you come up with a fist full of balls and cock, she may just be a tranny! To be more serious, the smoothness of her skin (or lack of) can be a tactile indication. Hand/feet size and texture is another barometer. While trannies can induce breast and butt enlargement either hormonally or surgically, nobody has perfected the art of making a tranny’s feet or hands smaller, smoother or daintier. Wanna know if that girl you met in the club is a tranny? Ask her to remove her shoes and socks. That should do the trick (so to speak).

Next, the sense of taste! Yup! If you’re tongue kissing your goddess and she tastes a little sticky...or you’re sucking her big clit and suddenly a gush of white sticky stuff projects from her engorgement, you just might be a tranny chaser!

Ok! I’ll get off this ridiculous bender and make a point. If you’re reading this magazine, what makes you futuristic and unique - and not just dull and humdrum - is that you’re spooking trannies because you’re hoping the girl HAS a dick - and a big one. Normally, the act of spooking involves a straight man making sure he isn’t being seduced by a faggot! And so fellas, count yourselves hot, cool, metrosexual and all those other modern adjectives. While repressed white-collared conservatives only dream about having a huge cock, you guys go out and find one - and a chick with huge tits - all on the same body. Hey! you only live once - and you’re living a lot more freely, enjoyably and openly than your shamefully pitiful counterparts. And there’s my socially observant - if not redeeming -message.

WHERE TO FIND THE TRANNY OF YOUR DREAMS

2009-07-01T08:25:00.000-07:00

NOTE: This is a bit dated but still instructive and relevant. Plus I'm busy and running out of stuff to post so a moldy but goodie will have to do for today!

The quest for tranny love is a never-ending pursuit for that metroxexual horn dog on the prowl. This issue Dollar Bill shares some of his unparalleled expertise on the subject of the how and where of finding the tranny of your dreams.

This may come as a shock to some of our devoted readers, but this isn’t the only place (though it may be the best) a hot guy can find a tranny. If “She Male” went out of business tomorrow, there are still other publications websites, clubs and even street areas in the city where a discerning dude with a hard-on can troll up a troll for some flaming action! So let me take you on a tour of exactly how and where a big-bonered guy can find an even bigger-bonered she male.

In the realm of contact tabloids (like this one), there are essentially three publications, all of which have multiple transsexuals advertising for companions like you. The first and foremost - or at least the original - is Screw Magazine. Although its founder is now out of the picture, Screw still flourishes and boasts many she male ads to choose from. In addition, there’s lots of satire and humor within the pages of “The World’s Greatest Newspaper” to give you a chuckle, and lots of slimy blow jobs to jerk off to if you lack the money for some she male companionship.

“She Male,” this magazine, is a specialist in the field with not only multiple advertisements of the girls, but supporting editorial on the lifestyle, lots of hot action photos of she males engaged in the sex act, and a plethora of advertising for feminization products and hard-to-find magazines and movies all of which concern themselves with she males - and she males only. No nasty, smelly, foul fish to stink up the joint. Just hot, hard trannies to make your spine tingle and turn you thimble into a steaming pipe!

“Escort” is another popular periodical with wild insider features, exposes, and multiple ads for not only she males - but females as well - for those who dabble back and forth.

The basic advantage of these three sex tabloids over any of the following offerings is that the papers show the girls naked, which can be very helpful for a guy who wants to know about his prospective date’s endowment before he plunks down his benjis! Of course, there’s a modest price tag on these rags but if you’re willing to drop at least a hundred on a girl, isn’t it worth the few dollars the periodicals cost to get a look at the goods before purchasing?

Once upon a time, these sex tabloids were the only venue in which a she male could advertise - or a tranny chaser could find the girl of his dreams. But that’s all changed in the past 6 years. At about the same time, The Village Voice decided to sell display ads to bodyworkers, AND the internet escort website was born, opening the world of she male escorting to a much wider audience.

First, the free weeklies. At the outset, The Village Voice and New York Press (the upstart) ran only line ads for escorts, considering it too risqué and dangerous (they might lose mainstream advertising) to actually picture bodyworkers. But one day while on a flight to somewhere, the then CEO of the corporation which controlled The Village Voice, got a look at an alternative weekly from another city and discovered display ads for escorts. As soon as he got back to New York, the changeover began whereupon his paper sold pictured ads to “bodyworkers.” The Press followed suit shortly thereafter and suddenly, she male clients no longer needed to buy a magazine to find phone numbers of the escorts they wanted to spend time with. And the guys could walk to the corner and pick up the paper free! As you can imagine, there was a virtual stampede to the corner boxes by a division of tricks looking for the company of not just she males - but females as well.

This was a great deal except for one unfortunate reality: Both papers are available to anyone old enough to open the door to the box and grab the paper. Hence, the pix have to be PG (although they’re actually quite explicit considering their widespread availability to people of all ages) and for lover of she males, not very revealing - especially in the strategic areas. So if you want to go pot luck on the size and strength factor - and believe what the girl promises without getting a peek - the local alternative weeklies are excellent. Of course, if you get ten centimeters instead of the ten inches promised, you have only yourself to blame for being too cheap to buy She Male, Screw or Escort. Enough said.

Now to the internet. About seven or eight years ago, I was visiting a female incall when I ran into a friendly sales colleague toting a lap top under his arm. The madam introduced me to the guy who turned out to be a sales rep from an escort website with whom she had just begun running ads. Brian (who became a friend and business associate) proceeded to demonstrate exactly how he could bring the girls business by advertising their photos on NY-EXOTICS.COM, the site his employer was promoting. It was an epiphanous moment for sure. Instantly, I realized I was viewing the wave of the future and paid attention. Years later, the internet is loaded with sexual material of all genres and multiple websites featuring she males. Although Exotics is no longer number 1, it still boasts a lot of she male ads - but nothing like eros.com which has literally 100 or more trannies advertising in NYC alone!

Again, this is another free arena (assuming you have a computer). Access is easy and the pictures come in color. But no nudity is allowed and often, the prices are inflated. Shopping on the web (especially on eros) is sort of like going to Saks. There are no bargains. So if you’re on a budget - or you’re just the kind of guy who lives to get a lot of action for a little money - eros (and most of the internet) isn’t the ticket. There is one notable exception: craigslist.org. This booming brainchild is the K-Mart of the web. For the budget-minded, it’s actually quite good albeit labor-intensive, because there are no galleries of thumbnails to choose from. CL has only line ads all of which you must click to see the photos. So unless you have a fast computer and a high speed connection, the entire enterprise is like swimming through molasses and can be very frustrating.

Ok! Enough about answering ads. Trannies don’t always stay indoors waiting for callers with money to come by. They often go out to party! And of course, they’re always looking for a hot guy with a big dick! If you want to go clubbing with trannies exclusively, there are two enterprising individuals who run weekly she male parties at local oases. Whether it’s Allanah Starr or Dubois’ parties, the program is more or less the same: Some kind of theme (trannylicious, intergalactic trannies, trannies from the Wild West), some props, a few girls hired to dance seductively, and a lot of hot action in the nooks and crannies of the clubs. Admission is in the $20 - $30 range, and while hot she males abound, the girls are all looking to be compensated for their time. This is not a deal where you can find a hot she male, convince her you think she’s a girl, and then take her home to get some free action. This is strictly pay-for-play in a very erotically charged atmosphere.

For those who look attractive and want to get their tranny action free, go to after hours spots and/or hip clubs in Manhattan. Trannies are always in attendance and when they’re in mixed company, often want to lure a straight man who doesn’t realize that he’s hitting on a she male. This takes work - and looks - but can be a very fertile hunting ground
for free action. Pretending to not be a tranny chaser in this situation is very advantageous. Picture this: Let’s say you convince the she male that a) you think she’s a female, and b) you’ve never been with a tranny. Then you go home and once seeing her turgid boner, dive on her prong prostyle, sucking the chrome off her tailpipe. Said tranny will be delirious with feminine pride and joy and you’ll be getting it free for quite a while! But this takes some finesse and effort. So if you don’t look that good...and you don’t want to work that hard...just pay for it like an honest man. You’ll be better off for your lack of industry!

And finally, if you really want to rough it...and you like cheap companionship in a car...head down to 14th Street and 9th Avenue where any number of rugged she males dance and prance for your enjoyment. But be careful! Guard your belongings and always be safe and no doubt you can have some big fun slumming it on the streets.

Alright, guys! I’ve laid out several plans for your edification. Whatever your MO, go forth and enjoy SAFELY. And remember, you only live once - so get all the “companionship” you can - with as many different partners - before you take a cab to The Great Beyond.

TRANS-SEX IN THE CITY!

2009-07-01T07:49:00.000-07:00

Regardless of your gender or sexual orientation, one immutable fact continues to plague everybody who’s looking for love in all the wrong places. It seems almost impossible to find! Once again Dollar Bill reveals in no uncertain terms that even the most gorgeous, racked and packed she male still struggles to find the ultimate romantic connection in her very own soap opera appropriately named “Trans-sex In The City.”

Running the gauntlet of transsexuality is an especially precarious pursuit for those in the life, especially when it comes to finding true love and romance. For things aren’t always what they seem when a girl hits a mixed club to find a hot and straight stud. As I’ve mentioned before, she males aren’t interested in homosexual men. They want a straight man to love. But while they still have their dicks (most aspire to lose theirs eventually for the perfect man) finding that straight man can be especially difficult.

I mean...can you imagine what would happen if a guy with a pussy instead of a dick went to a club, picked up a woman, and then brought her home for sex? In the majority of cases, the girl wouldn’t be real happy to find that her stud-to-be had nothing between his legs. Well, the same can be said for transsexuals whose one-night-standers are expecting a pussy at the moment of consummation.

On several occasions I’ve spoken to she males who have confessed tales from the club world and exactly how they go about finding true love with someone they actually want to have sex with - as opposed to somebody who pays them. That’s not to say that all clients of she males are unattractive. And indeed, I know girls who have turned clients into live-in boyfriends. But as with natural females, rarely is the guy who’s paying them for their time the same guy they would like to hang out with and have sex with for free.

And so when the work day is done, the girls (female or she male) will often go clubbing, looking for love and romance in a very liquor and drug-induced after midnight nether world. As anybody who’s gone clubbing knows, the aforementioned subculture is an eclectic mix of straight, bi and homosexual men and women who DON’T wear any labels revealing their sexual orientation.

The games begin as the crowd mingles. Picture this: Miss Honey is dressed to the nines, high heels, Calvin Klein, Gucci and whatever setting off her burgeoning double d’s, phat booty and long legs. Mr. heterosexual gets one look and it’s a wrap. He’s got to have her. The two bob and weave and flirt with the she male titillating the guy’s boner. They both want to run home and fuck right then and there...but she has another idea. If the guy’s a cocksucker - but cute - she may take him home just to have some hot sex. But if he appears to be straight and longing for some deep wet pussy to fill...that’s another story entirely. This relationship must be cultivated. And for two reasons.

First, he’s a straight man - which puts him at a premium because she males don’t want homosexual men in the first place. And second, quick first night sex with a hetero guy could bring a beating at the moment of truth - or just as likely an “Excuse me, I have to go,” at that same operative moment.

Generally, the she male will feel the vibrations and control the situation appropriately. Most of the time, a little dance floor grind (she’s usually taped so he can’t feel anything) and an exchange of numbers, followed by numerous phone calls or dates will ensue, the theory being that eventually, the guy will become so “open” on the girl he just won’t care that she has a dick. Just so he can hug and kiss and suck her tits and get his dick sucked, eventually the love he feels for the girl will convince him to suck her dick, or fuck her in the ass simply to satisfy his partner.

Or if the she male just can’t wait (as in one case), she’ll bring the guy home and blow his brains out (sexually that is), or give him a fabulous titty fuck, feigning her femininity with the excuse that she’s having her period while still having the opportunity to enjoy his company.

Of course, there’s another side to this equation. The cagey bisexual hound dog on the prowl knows about all this drama and will often pretend to be a completely clueless and heterosexual man because he knows that’s what the she male wants. And so he’ll play the game - and the tranny - just to get what HE wants. Imagine a guy who totally knows what time it is, gawking at the she male’s throbbing member, and then “nervously” diving, sucking virginally when in fact it’s the 1000th dick he’s blown in the last week unbeknownst to the she male.

She’s smitten; there’s nothing like turning a “straight man” for a she male. And he has his hand out when she comes home from work after making hundreds or thousands from clients for whom she has no feelings. Pursuing trans-sex in the city truly is a gauntlet not for the faint of heart.

One girl who I met at a party and thought was a female eventually confided in me on several fronts. She knew I thought she was a fabulous female when I met her and that had she been a born-female, I would have been first in line for some pussy. Her complaint was that all the guys she was dating recreationally were straight and that her relationships were most unsatisfying because the sex basically consisted of her blowing them. And that was it. I’d had a fantasy about getting blown by this girl (what the hell) but when I heard her dilemma, my boner went south immediately. She was a friend of a friend (a female) and I figured if I displayed myself as yet another straight guy who just wanted to get his dick sucked by a pretty girl, my reputation might have gone even farther south than my boner. Apparently, sometimes the transsexual’s desire for a straight man can get in the way of her sexual satisfaction. If I were in love with a female and all she would let me do sexually was suck her pussy, I wouldn’t be a very happy camper either.

But on the other hand, another of my clients related a story which revealed that she really had turned a virgin into a lifelong cocksucker just by virtue of being totally attractive and seductive to the point that the guy really didn’t care. Just so he could be intimate with the “girl” he’d fallen in love with, sucking a cock seemed like a small leap.

And so it goes with trans-sex in the Big Apple. There are a million lonely stories in the naked city. And not all of them involve heterosexuals or even homosexuals. In the 21st century, the modern world they involve transsexuals as well.

HOW THE FUCK DO I KNOW ALL THESE TRANNIES?

2009-07-01T05:21:00.000-07:00

An avid reader e-mailed me yesterday asking how I know all these trannies? Am I a consumer of their services or what? Well, I explained briefly in yesterday's column (which is actually ten years old) but let me elaborate further.

Once upon a time, I was a cab driver who began writing about my taxi-driving experiences for the industry paper as a creative outlet. From there, I gained a little notoriety and before I knew it had been published in some 40 publications the likes of the lofty Screw, Juggs and Leg Scene...all the way down to the depths of The New York Times, Daily News and New York Magazine. But while my free-lance career was impressive - though not that monetarily rewarding - nobody hired me full time until Action Magazine saved me from the yellow abyss.

My first day on that job, the boss pulled all the sales people (yes..part of my job was selling - not just writing) together and opened up Screw Magazine to challenge the sales staff: "Goldstein has 72 she male advertisers. We have 3. I want the other 69!" And so...it was our job to telemarket and chase those 69 trannies to try and get them to advertise in Action. And THAT'S how I know all the trannies.

I've written voluminously about their subculture (as well as many others in this business) and in due time will be sharing all those articles I once wrote for magazines catering to she males and the guys who love them. So enjoy. There are no sites like this on the internet. And best of all...it's free. Like how much better does it get? Have fun and PLAY SAFE! A word to the wise should be sufficient!

A CHRISTMAS CAROL: A Twisted Version of Beauty and the Beast

2009-06-09T07:35:00.000-07:00

I know it's only June but after sifting through the archives, I just had to post this twisted piece of holiday wreckage I wrote about a stink mother fucking tranny ho named Aurelio Broccamontes, one of the most abusive assholes I ever (figuratively) bent over for to make a dime. What a fucking douchebag!

Once upon a time in not so old New York City, there lived a tranny madam - a huge-breasted, heavily-bearded, hair-plugged beast with lots of money in the bank - but a heart of stone. Everybody hated her. Her tranny ho’s hated her; her female ho’s hated her; her phone girls hated her. And most of all, the unfortunate people who prostituted themselves by taking her ad money to earn a living REALLY hated her. But none of this mattered. Just so she could torture her employees and count her money late at night, she was as happy as happy could be.

She lived in Hell’s Kitchen, surrounded by cabbies and the poverty-stricken. But as she walked her thousand dollar dogs through the litter-strewn streets of The Big City, she barely even noticed the destitution that surrounded her. All she could think of was the mansion she was building down in Mexico - the place she would eventually get away to when she’d had enough of dumb ho’s, vice cops, and stupid tricks.

Christmas Eve was especially cold that year - cold enough to freeze the proverbial witch’s tit! Regardless, The Beast trudged to the bank to deposit yet more money and exited the revolving door to return home to her slaves and dogs. Everybody in the house was festive. They all had the night off to go party. Only The Beast was unhappy. “Bah! Humbug” she shouted. “I guess you dumb bitches want the night off so you can go suck some cock for free,” she lamented. “And I sit around here making no money because you sluts don’t want to work on Christmas.”

But it was to no avail. The sluts ignored her. They knew she was just a small-dicked douche bag who would never be happy. And if the freak said one more thing, they could easily walk down the stroll and find another monster to flatback for.

Soon, all the girls had flitted out the door, switching their big, fake tranny asses and tits at the boss as they left - as if to say “Look what I have, baby. A big-dicked straight guy is gonna fuck the shit out of me tonight - and you’re gonna stay home ‘cause you’re a piece of shit mother fucker.”

The streets were strangely silent - as is always the case on Christmas Eve. Only the sounds of terrorist cabbies wishing each other well filled the air as they gassed up across the street from her home at The Hess Station. She decided to take a walk with the dogs it was such a peaceful night. Plus, the bitches were gone. No need to answer the phone. No self-respecting trick would wanna fuck her nasty ass. But it was all good. She was rich and her employees poor. That’s all that mattered!

Just as The Beast was totally immersed in her thoughts, a god walked up and began petting one of her dogs. “Merry Christmas, ma’am. Aren’t these the most beautiful dogs I’ve ever seen,” he baby-talked the canines as The Chosen One stooped to pet the little buggers. The Beast’s head swam with desire. “ I bet he’s got a real big cock,” the tranny fantasized to herself. “I wonder if he fucks tranny beasts. I hope so.” But little did she know that the stud had been commissioned by all the employees to swoon The Beast, go home with her - and of course, fuck the shit out of the monster.

And so, the beautiful one engaged our beast in conversation until that magic moment when she decided to take a chance. “It’s so cold out here. Why don’t you come over to my house. I live just around the corner and it’s real warm and cozy inside,” she waxed metaphorical.

Within minutes they had entered her little love cocoon on Tenth Avenue and it wasn’t long before the small talk commenced and her gaze centered on the bulge between his legs. Her mouth began to water, aching to open wide and let his presumed huge cock ravage the insides. Beauty knew what she was thinking (hey, trannies aren’t that complicated - nor are their dick-worshipping female counterparts) and arose from his seat to begin unbuckling his pants. “I must be getting fat,” he quipped. None of my pants seem to fit anymore.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Is it your waist that’s growing - or something else?” she led him on. With that, the stranger slowly dropped his pants to divulge not just a big, handsome dick - but the longest, thickest, throbbingest monster of a cock the world has ever known. She gasped in wonderment thinking “I like a big cock but where the hell am I gonna put that huge thing?” Indeed, it was so thick she feared her mouth simply would not stretch wide enough to house the hugeness of it all.

Suddenly, the theme from Jaws played on the radio. Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun! A mad sneer came over the once friendly god’s face and a maniacal laugh came from his transformed spirit.

And then it happened! The god proclaimed “I am the ghost of Christmas past and I have come to avenge all your wrongs.” She wanted to calm down and just tell him “Fuck you! You’re just an asshole with a big dick” - but she just coudn’t. Something about this guy was otherworldly. He had rendered the bitch speechless and totally at his command in much the same way just hours before all her slaves were similarly submissive to HER demands!

It was hopeless. She opened as wide as she possible could as he jammed his tree trunk down her throat but it was like shoving an elephant dick in a rabbit. The tranny troll gurgled and guzzled in a futile attempt to house his titanic. And was the god gentle? Hell no! Why should he be? The Beast had always treated her employees like shit. Why should he treat her any differently? And so he pounded and pounded away at her face, literally stretching her mouth, palate and tonsils beyond repair. The beast thought there was no such thing as too big. But now she knew differently as every cell above her neck ached and screamed in pain!

Still it wasn’t over. Just as she was about to pass out from asphyxiation, he pulled out and turned her over in a flash. Ripping her pants off her body to reveal the gnarly, hairy ass, The Beast hated to show anybody, he spread her cheeks and busted her stink ass right there. It was almost a sorrowful sight - except considering the bitch who was getting manhandled - it wasn’t. Whatever, he pounded that whore’s ass as she helplessly screamed louder and louder with each deep and wide thrust of his humongous saber.

The Beast decided she‘d rather be dead. If only she had a gun with which to kill herself quickly - rather than the slow death the stud was inflicting upon her. But it was all no use. He grabbed her by the hair plugs to gain leverage and continued pounding her even deeper. She screamed in the night but nobody could hear. Or so she thought!

Suddenly, all the girls burst into the apartment screaming and laughing their she male asses off. “Fuck that bitch. Tear that pussy up!” they screamed at the stud. They could in no way shape or form control their glee at the vision of their slave driver boss getting ravaged by the stud. “Pound her, faggot. Kill that bitch,” they implored him over and over again. And over and over again he jammed his giant dick all the way up her ass as the crowd ooed and ahhhed with every single thrust!

After about five minutes of utter voyeuristic bliss, the girls relented for a moment. “OK! Now turn her over and come on her fucking face and we’ll pay you and you can go.” And there was her epiphanous moment! The Beast suddenly realized that this guy had been hired to fuck her...to humiliate her in much the same way she had her employees. What a relief. He wasn’t going to kill her. He was simply a whore for hire!

And so...he turned her over, whipped up his biggest, hardest erection and blew a huge load all over The Beast’s face as the peanut gallery screamed their approval. “Drown that fucking bitch, maricon. Now stuff it in her face.”

Moments later, the beast sat up and with cum dripping down her beard, eyes, nose and everything else she smiled at her employees and applauded “Good joke, girls. Merry Christmas.” But it wasn’t like that at all. The bitches meant business.

“Merry Christmas my ass! Fuck you bitch.” And with that, they all pelted her with snow and ice balls they’d gathered from across the street. And they weren't just pure white snowballs. They were those nasty kind of New York City soot-filled, blackened and gritty/grimy/salty snow balls. And the beast spat and screamed as the trannies pummeled her with delight.

After they’d exhausted themselves fully and were out of ammunition, all together and seemingly in harmony exclaimed “Fuck you. We quit.” And with that they paid the stud for a job well done and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door as they left.

The Beast lay there in a heap for hours, curled up in the fetal position. Not even the dogs would go near her they were so repulsed by the specter of their horrible mistress lying there buck naked sporting a face full of cum. For a mere second, she contemplated the meaning of what had just happened. And just for a moment, The Beast considered mending her ways. But nah! This isn’t merry old England. This is The Big Apple where nobody changes and there ARE no warm and happy endings.

By the next morning, she was on the phone, demanding of her battle ax of an ad rep that she find her new girls and compose help wanted ads to replace the old mutineer bitches. She could barely get around her ass was so sore from the pounding. And her throat was beat up and sore from the previous night’s attack. But she was no worse for the wear and soon enough, she would have new and improved people she could enslave. She would make more money and add a wing to her mansion. Fuck those bitches. Let them work somewhere else and find out what it’s like to work for a REAL douche bag.

And so our warm and fuzzy story ends - a Christmas Carol of sorts - but one more befitting the nasty underbelly of the sex for sale she male subculture of 21st century NYC - than its traditional18th century counterpart in merry old England. If I had my druthers, I think I’d rather go back in time and live old style. And just for a moment, as I wrote this twisted piece of prose, I got all warm and gushy and felt like I really WAS dining with Bob Kratchit and Tiny Tim back in the day. That’s what writing does for writers. It’s kind of like what a big dicked ass fucking does for a hot tranny ho.

THE SILENCE IS DEAFENING!

2009-05-10T07:48:00.001-07:00

Last week in a burst of inspiration born from stark boredom, I launched my tranny site. The format is simple: REAL photos...nothing pornographic....and a lot of informative text I've compiled over the years from dealing in close quarters with the transgendered subculture. And it should be a no-brainer. There are no commercial sites with any insider info. And there are no commercial sites that feature REAL PIX ONLY. In the world of disinformation and bait and switch, this seemed to be the viable approach.

So I solicited via e-mail the aid of The Village Voice publisher...and the leading advertising agency in the local adult ad biz, both of whom directly derive their livings from my hard work. And what did I get? Nothing! Silence.

Let's take The Voice first. Backpage is a Voice-sponsored site...but not THEIR brainchild. It was conceived as a Craig knock off by a terminated executive to whom the corporation owed a favor. Backpage now runs way in the black and part of its success (at least in New York) is credited to yours truly (and that's by the owner - not by me). When I suggested The Voice be my partner), all I wanted was a banner ad in the paper every week...and maybe a little tech help. Is that so much to ask of a corporation which benefits from my hard work every day? And the answer to that is a thundering YES! I got no response from the publisher. But I did get an immediate response from the owner of Backpage to whom I cc'd the correspondence. His take was "They're not gonna do it. Don't waste your time."

Every week, The Voice runs a huge ad for sexyblackbook.com, a new site they're attempting to launch. And for the first time, I checked it out. It's dog shit! Almost EVERY photo is fake plus...there's no information about the girls...or any editorial of an informative or entertaining nature. THIS is THEIR brainchild. Not surprising they wouldn't see the potential in my tranny site.

Then there's Somad, the "leader" in adult advertising. That leader status comes from chronology and NOT vision - at least at this point. I e-mailed them suggesting they send me photos of their tranny clients to whom I would give free advertising for two weeks. After that, Somad could sell at a 30% commission. That should have been easy enough. Yeah, right! Nothing. Add to that...every time they sell an ad in Extreme Magazine, they have me to thank. I negotiated the deal for them. They didn't even know Extreme existed. Every time they sell an ad in Escort Magazine...they have me to thank. I WAS Escort Magazine until I bowed out under faux mafia pressure. Without me, there never would have been Escort Magazine. I started it! And get this: They make 15% of my money on The Village Voice in exchange for which they do NOTHING! I do ALL my artwork at this point.

Wait! I'm not done! I was instrumental in helping that agency win two wars (with competitors) and they don't even have the decency to throw down a few minutes of semi-work to join in on a project from a guy who's kept them alive? Bogus. You could say that I'm a time bomb waiting to explode and nobody wants to get near me. But the truth is they've pissed off more than a few employees in their history. I'm not alone. It's a syndrome!

Whatever! Here's something I know that they don't: I can check the internet service provider of every visitor to my site. I don't know who they are but I DO know how they get on the web. And more than occasionally (like this morning on the tranny beat site), I see yale.edu...or cornell.edu. That's right! Either Ivy League students - or their professors - log on to see what Dollar Bill has to say about the escort biz. And you can bet your ass that the ivy leaguers not only look at the pictures...but read the text as well. Maybe that's the problem. I'll bet that the publisher of The Voice and the agents at Somad don't have the energy to read the kind of information they are NOT privy to because they sit behind a desk all day.

And finally, CBS Sunday Morning is over and I need to do some laundry before I enjoy this gorgeous day. I'm not gonna spend all day crying about how unappreciated I am by the people whose mouths I feed. I'm just not that neurotic.