Matthew felt like he was coming, was sure he was coming. He was thrusting his cock forward into Christian’s groin. Their legs were intertwined. Christian had an arm around him, a hand in the crack of his arse. Matthew had his hand in the small of Christian’s back.

‘Here,’ Christian said.

He was taking Matthew’s glasses off, and Matthew could see the strobe light flickering while he breathed into Christian’s neck. Christian was breathing into his ear. Their faces side by side.

Matthew didn’t want to move. He was so close to coming. He thrust forward again, thinking he could come, closing his eyes.

He had come, hadn’t he?

But that was Lukas.

He thrust again, and Christian seemed to shudder, like he was wanting him to do it.

What were they doing?

‘You know,’ Matthew said, not moving, ‘I had the strangest idea – that you had a cunt and I could fuck you.’

He thrust forward again.

Christian didn’t seem to mind.

He pulled his head back and found Christian’s lips. He bit them, kissing him hard, kissing him passionately, and feeling Christian kissing him back. Felt his rough stubble.

His head was swimming.

He felt like he was falling.

He groaned and thrust forward again.

If only he could pull his cock out. If only Christian would reach down and pull him off.

But what were they doing?

He pulled his head back and looked at Christian, half afraid of what he would find.

Christian’s eyes were flashing like mirrors, ticking with every beat of the strobe, his head next to Matthew’s on the pillow, the two of them looking into each other’s eyes.

Christian’s lips were so sensual. Matthew looked at them, tracing the curve of them with his eyes, feeling Christian breathing against him. Their breaths ragged. Their groins pressed against each other. A hand on each other’s back.

He leaned forward and kissed Christian again. Pulled Christian toward himself and thrust again. Driving his cock up underneath Christian as though he would find a cunt there when Christian was a man.

‘So if I had one, would you fuck it?’ Christian’s hot breath in his ear.

Matthew drove forward. ‘You fucking bet,’ he said. ‘I’d fuck it hard.’

‘So that’s a deal?’

‘It’s a deal,’ Matthew said, pressing himself forward again and starting to rut, now that he was sure Christian didn’t mind.

Christian pushed Matthew away, and turned onto his back.

‘What are you doing?’ Matthew said.

‘Taking my jeans off.’

#

Christian knew he wasn’t a man.

He was a chimera.

When he was born, it had been assumed he was a girl, though he had an abnormal clitoris.

For the first three years of his life he was raised as a girl. He wore pink dresses, and played with dolls. By the time he turned four, it became clear to his parents that Christian was of indeterminate sex. His cock had started to lengthen, growing drastically. There was a scrotum, though it was divided into two.

The Dr and Mrs Mueller were unsure of what to do. Christian liked playing with dolls, though he also liked trucks. He could be rough with the other children in playgroup, though he could also be quite feminine.

Christian had started grade school, in Alderton, as a girl.

When he turned seven, his testicles dropped, something which his father hadn’t entirely expected. It wasn’t usual, in these cases, for a person’s testicles to be functional, though it was soon clear made clear that Christian’s were. His boyish characteristics seemed to outstrip his feminine ones, and his parents were left in a quandary.

Dr Mueller decided to move. He went up the coast, north, to Petersville, where he enrolled Christian in the local grade school as a boy, after first discussing things with Christian, and ascertaining what he wished to do.

Christian didn’t think he was a boy or a girl, but would rather be a boy, if he had to be one or the other, he said.

His father was afraid of making any drastic changes, afraid of surgery, because he wanted to leave Christian’s options open for later life.

When he was twelve, Christian’s father took him to Germany. Here he had an ultrasound. There was a uterus. Fallopian tubes. And ovaries, though there was little, almost no chance, the specialist said, of these being fertile. Such a case had never been reported.

Christian was that most unlikely of all things, a chimera.

In the hotel overlooking the Kurfûrstendamm, Christian had sat down opposite his father, while Dr Mueller seriously, and clinically, outlined his options. He would never be a fertile female, but he was a fertile male. Nevertheless, in a year or so, he would most likely begin to develop breast tissue, as least some. There was the issue of his scrotum. It was separated. His vagina. Did Christian want something done about these things? Did he want surgery?

Christian had felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He didn’t want anything done. He liked himself the way he was, though he agreed with his father to have his breast tissue removed, as he could have breast implants later, if he ever decided to. Removing the breast tissue was something that would make things easier for him, though he liked his testicles the way they were. He liked them in separate sacks. He thought that was the way it was supposed to be.

And he didn’t want something done about his vagina, his uterus, his ovaries. He was supposed to have these things.

‘I see,’ his father had said, obviously perplexed.

On returning home, Christian’s father performed the surgery himself, a double mastectomy, doing it at home, as he didn’t want anyone messing with his son.

For this, Christian was thankful. If he could trust anyone, he knew it was his father.

Dr Mueller moved the family to Lakeshore, and Christian started at West, where he met Matthew.

And as time went on, he was more thankful to his father. He was happy living as a boy, when he knew he was something more, and on the days after gym, when everyone was supposed to shower, Christian stood there boldly, knowing no one was going to look up between his legs and see what was there. No one could tell his sack was in two halves. Not if he was careful.

He wasn’t going to be one of those kids, like Lukas, one of those kids who somehow managed to hide themselves, scuttling back to the houses for showers, where there were stalls.

It came as a surprise then, to Matthew, as Christian peeled his jocks off and opened his legs.

Just once, Christian thought. I just want to feel what it feels like once.

#

Matthew looked and then didn’t look, and then looked again. He wasn’t sure what he had seen. He undid his jeans and pushed them onto his thighs, groggy, half delirious. Ashamed.

Was it Christian’s arsehole? It must be Christian’s arsehole. Though it had looked like…

He worked himself over and positioned himself between Christian’s legs. He angled his cock up into a cunt. That had to be a cunt. But how? He didn’t care.

He pushed it in, thrust his body up slowly. It was so tight, and so wet, and it felt so delicious, like it was made for this.

He put his lips on Christian’s chest hair, and took some between his teeth.

‘Ah!’ Christian said, as Matthew went in deeper. ‘Go slow.’

Matthew moved his body up and found his head next to Christian’s as he buried his cock to the hilt.

That was a vagina.

Matthew must be dreaming. It must be the drugs.

He didn’t care.

Slowly he started to pump, drawing himself back out and in, and felt a slush of juice around his cock as he pushed back up.

He bit Christian’s neck and held himself still.

Christian had his hands on Matthew’s arse cheeks and he was digging into them, pulling Matthew into him.

Matthew wanted to move back out again, and tried to, but Christian thrust him back in again, and then he was coming.

And Christian was coming.

And it was over.

#

Matthew rolled over and pulled his jeans up, lay facing away from Christian. He didn’t know what had happened.

But felt sick.

‘Can we turn the strobe off?’

‘You do it,’ Christian said.

Matthew didn’t want to move. Didn’t think he could move.

There were minutes of silence.

Finally, he got up and turned off the strobe.

Christian opened the curtains.

‘So?’

Matthew didn’t know what to say.

He sat on the bed, facing away from Christian.

‘That was a one off,’ Christian said.

Matthew nodded.

‘I might go home,’ he said.

‘If you want.’

‘Can you drive me?’

‘In a minute.’

‘What was…did…?’

‘You want to know why I have a…?’

Matthew nodded, feeling sick at the thought of what he had done. His best friend, Christian!

Christian told him everything he needed to know, and at the end of it, Matthew found that he could face Christian.

He was just as he had always been.

‘That was a one off.’

Matthew nodded again.

‘And it goes no further than this room.’

‘How…?’

He wanted to ask how Christian had stood in the showers at school, where the showers in the gym were all in a row. Matthew had seen him there week after week and had never guessed. Never thought…

Why would he?

He shuddered.

Christian was some sort of freak.

‘So do you want some of these?’ Christian said, holding out the bottle.

Matthew did.

He wanted to know what had happened. What had happened with Lukas. Could any of that have been real?

It had to be.

Too real.

A rush like he’d never felt.

Christian gave him the rest of the bottle.