Kalalau
The promise of a post to come. Haven’t written enough this year for me. Here’s a placeholder photo from Kalalau Beach.
April Littrell
The promise of a post to come. Haven’t written enough this year for me. Here’s a placeholder photo from Kalalau Beach.
This post is NSFW.
AI TLDR: I’m planning to create a sequel to Fucking Trans Women in the form of a zine. I’m looking for contributors who want to share stories, art, photos, or any other creative content related to this theme. It’s an open project with no strict rules or deadlines. If you’re interested in participating, email me with FTW in the subject line. Let’s make this happen!
Hey, it’s been a while. I’m gonna get to the point. I had a busy first half of the year and now I have nothing on the calendar and a backlog of creative ideas and big loads of energy.
I had on my 2024 goals list to make another xxx film with friends, but for whatever reason it hasn’t come together. I recently met someone with printing chops and access to publishing machines and materials. Lightbulb! Let’s make a naughty zine.
Fucking Trans Women II. The sequel. Remastered. Less muffing and more… huffing pheromones? I dunno. I’m not going to pretend I know much about the original. I just know it’s over a decade old and I wanna make something new and spicy with friends.
What are the rules? Fuck if I know. Making this up as I go along. It could be an open call. Or more intimate like friends and friends of friends who could contribute. Will it be an anthology? It’ll definitely have loads of art. I want to render photographs into anonymized risograph splendor.
Perspectives are paramount, but — and I wrestled with this — I want it to be trans women focused. Or at least keep that part true to the original. I want to write / curate what I know, and that’s fucking as a trans woman. People should pick it up and know what they’re getting into. Or maybe they shouldn’t. Because that’s kinda the whole point… most people who pick me up don’t know what they’re about to get into. Which is probably the case with most people, except cis het relationships tend to follow well read social scripts.
The publisher designer machinist artist friend asked me if the content of FTWII would be prescriptive like the first — a literal manual for how to bust your favorite tgirl. I think that would be fun, at least for some of the material. I have a draft in my notes app I share [mostly with men] detailing how to fuck me. And not a single utterance of the inguinal canal.
Where you come in:
If you’re reading this in July or August of 2024, I probably sent you the link because I want you to get involved! If you’re reading this much later, I hope we actually got the zine published in some capacity.
Much like my film project last fall, I want you to contribute however you’d like. What are you good at and interested in? If you’re a trans girl who likes to fuck or a person who likes to fuck trans girls or anyone with a related sorta story, fact or fiction, I want it in whatever form. Not a good writer? Record yourself. I’ll type that shit up. Wanna take sexy or non-sexy photos of your estrogenated body? Multiple bodies? In, on, or around each other? Your lady bits? Your bedroom? Grindr screenshots? Share away!
I’m not sure who’ll end up sharing and what all will be shared. Maybe nothing. A minuscule amount. Or maybe a lot. But there definitely couldn’t be too much. Oh no. Let’s bust the zine machine.
If you wanna work on something together, lemme know. Let’s have coffee or beer or water or whiskey and talk about our orgasms. Girly things. I don’t have a deadline for this. No rush. I just wanna make it happen because too often ideas sit in the queue. And this one sounds pretty simple. It doesn’t even need to be pretty. It just needs to be.
Want to reiterate I’m not trying to leave anyone out this round. But as the curator of the project, I can imagine a good amount of editing will be necessary and not every bit will make it in. Maybe we’ll have a raw-dog edition without edits and a dolled-up edition with choice chops. Who knows. I just had to write some sort of brief so when I tell people about this idea, they have a cohesive sense of what I’m trying to accomplish. Fuck, sorry, I know this is long. My excuse is if you’re really interested, you’ll have some time to sift through this text. Maybe I’ll get AI to generate a TLDR for ya. Wanted to get this typed up first so I could get the word out. I don’t want to make submissions complicated. You can email me with FTW in the subject line and we’ll be in touch. Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll connect with contributors on an individual basis. And when there’s enough material in the works, we’ll see what we need to do to compile it and make sure everyone’s satisfied with how it’s laid out. That’s a way’s away though.
First, go fuck and make stories.
NSFWHey pal, how’s it going out there? Too soon, my friend.
I imagine you uncoupled from your earthly body, a hovering aura free to explore the universe at whichever speed you choose, no-clipping through any and every element, a light among lights traveling lightyears at a time and always finding your way back home.
I imagine you showing up to our work call, hearing us talk about you. First shifting awkwardly, finding words. Then muttering niceties, rolling small tears almost imperceptible on the screen. Then remembering your smile and your bluntness and your sheer glimmering charm and laughing in the spirit of the way you made us all laugh at the absurdities of life. And then you’d realize you were on a work call and realize you were free, forever, from all responsibility and could just exist and you’d fuck off to sit on the surface of the sun and then explore other planets and do somersaults in the clouds back on earth and jettison your spirit to the depths of the sea and out the other side of the planet, first stopping at the core to feel what it’s like to be at the axis of everything you knew and then getting a little dizzy and floating blissfully back to the bay to wrap your light around your children and spook your cat from rest and radiate around your wife with an indescribably palpable warmth that exists in the memory of you but also in the realm where you now exist, somewhere beyond memory, in eternity.
You’re only a week or so into your new form and I know you’re absolutely killin’ it. Having a ball of a time, like you always knew how to here, even with gravity in full effect. Even in the doldrums of endless designs, you relished in the opportunity to design your own days with impunity. Which is the ultimate lesson you left with me—every day matters. Good or bad, and most often both. You knew how to step off the stage of life and poke fun at the play fumbling along with its ever-evolving script, no one privy to the ensuing lines.
Some people in life pass you by, and others, no matter how small a part they played, stick around. The true characters. The faces and voices and names and bodies and personalities of folks that crop up when you think of one or another thing and all of a sudden, there they are in your head. You’ve managed to wedge yourself somewhere in my mind, Tim, and though our interactions were brief, they were all the more impactful. I had a sense though didn’t fully realize at the time… we shared coconuts. You were always the guy I could split a coconut with in our little video chat mirages that would materialize in the lonely desert of our remote worlds. Sure, there were others, but they were trying to trudge ahead in the sand. And I could always stop and sit on a fallen palm with you and feel the cool that might’ve not actually been there but was there in our minds and it needn’t be said and we were both okay with that. And I have a sense you made that mirage a reality for others, too, which is a magical power to have here on earth. You were a magical being, and I’d feel stupid saying that to you when you were here, or maybe I could in jest while really meaning it, but it’s too late now. I don’t need to tell you. You know it. You’re out there flying across time and space.
You have unlimited time now, so I hope you’ll take a few minutes to read this. I didn’t get to say goodbye and wanted some closure, so thought I’d speculate a bit on what it’s like to have your newfound spectral abilities. Miss you, Tim. More than I could have imagined, which is almost insulting to say but it’s true. We didn’t know each other that well. But I knew you enough to know for absolute certain that you have a kind, kind heart. Your light is ever present. Take care, buddy. Enjoy everything to come. See you when I see you.