A questionable lesson in sexual anatomy.

Have I ever told you folks about the time I became a woman? What? You mean pretending to be a woman on the internet? Silly boys, that doesn't count at all. I mean an actual woman, with a vagina and breasts and large areolas and everything. I was once a woman, and I have to tell you, I'm glad I'm not anymore. That shit was horrifying, and I never want it to happen again. At least well, if I change back to a woman, I don't want to regain my virginity. That would be painful and awkward. But right, I was once a woman and it sucked ass.

I woke up one morning and I found it awkward trying to roll over. I thought I was crushing Puff Puff, our cat, again. And I averted from using another word for "cat" that I could possibly twist into a sexual play on words, but fuck you I'm not clever enough to work that into a joke. But right, I randomly wake up and a pair of funbags made it hurt to sleep on my stomach like I'm usually accustomed to. Of course it was 6am and I was hungover and got four hours of sleep, so a question like "Where did these titties come from?" didn't immediately pop into my head. I ate breakfast and got into the shower, where after my brother stole all the hot water, the freezing water woke me up to realize the situation that I was in. To realize that my, a man's most treasured and defining possession, was not with me in the shower. But then I remembered that I left lemon-scented bodywash in the other bathroom and noticed that my penis was missing.

"SHIT, WHERE THE FUCK DID MY PENIS GO?" I shouted in a screeching high voice. "SHIT, WHERE THE FUCK DID MY MANLY VOICE GO?" That wasn't a good idea either, since I might've called it to attention of my torturous relatives that I was living with. But indeed, my penis was missing and my chainsmoking manly voice left along with it. Apparently my privates crawled into my body and my testicles climbed up into my chest cavity and grew into breasts. What? That's not how anatomy works? Well shut the fuck up, I don't need you telling me that. I was freaking the hell out over becoming a woman, I was panicked. During that shower, I looked at myself for a while. My long, ugly-ass hair now actually worked, I was no longer a hairy gorilla, and my scrawny, short stature now seemed somewhat normal and no longer out of place. This was before my growth spurt, mind you; I was probably no taller than five-and-a-half feet and probably weighed no more than 110 pounds when I was a sophomore in High School. This was a great time to turn into a woman considering my stature. That can't happen now, since being a six-foot-three-inch woman would've been creepy as shit.

Now a lot of men often have the same question for this situation; if you became a woman, what would be the first thing you would do? So I played with my breasts and got off with the shower nozzle enough times that I had trouble standing, then I decided to get ready for school. Getting dressed was made exceptionally difficult when you can't feel your legs. And when you don't have woman's clothing, like frilly panties and bras and what have you. Thankfully that wasn't the case, as I kept some of those things around for when I'm bored and feel like crossdressing, but now this time they're being used for normal purposes, which is strange because now I felt sexy but without that niggling sense of shame.

Since I was an asocial faggot who never talked to anybody and didn't have friends, only one person noticed my change in sexuality at school that day, and that was my girlfriend. And frankly she was confused by the development.

"...How did this happen?" she asked.
"I don't know, I just woke up and I was like that."
"...You didn't piss anybody off, did you?"
"What, me? Of course not."

Actually I might've pissed off a wizard, but that's beyond the point.

"How do you go back to normal?" she asked.
"I don't fucking know."
"Go back to normal."
"No, I like being a woman."
"I'm not a lesbian, go back to normal."
"What, did you love me only for my body? WHY SHOULD IT MATTER?"

What a bitch. I think she was jealous that my breasts were larger than hers, but perhaps she was right. I haven't fully grasped how a woman's body functions, and I'll certainly start missing my penis eventually.

"I think the only drawback here is that I miss my penis." I said.
"I could imagine."
"It was such a magnificent penis."
"Ehhhhhhhhhhh."
"WELL FUCK YOU, TOO."

Not literally since I couldn't, but metaphorically. I would metaphorically fuck her with my mouth penis and ejaculate words of malice in her general direction. But frankly it was more insulting to go the entire day without people so much as noticing that there was a new girl in class, but I guess I'm just that transparent.

The only other event worth noticing occurred on my way home. I typically cut through a street and a baseball field on my way home if I choose not to go through the shopping district, which was a lot, and which was also today by happenstance. Also by happenstance there was a sleazy boy named Dave from my school walking home down this road. I apparently caught his eye. He asked me how my day was going, I ignored him to the best of my ability. It was 110 out, I was too hot to hold conversation. Literally in three senses. The weather was unbearable, I was drop-dead sexy and out of his league, and I think I was having a hot flash. I wanted to get home, sweat some more, flick the bean more, then go to sleep and contemplate what to do. He was being a creeper. As he walked behind me, he made a grab for my ass. I let out a yelp like a dog, pulled out my boxcutter, and turned around to jam it into his throat. a massive horizontal flap spraying blood out got my face dirty and diluded the sweat. I put the knife in further, got my hand in there and proceeded to dig out his throat while he gasped and wailed for dear life. I'm sorry Dave, I can't hear you particularly well over all the, well, blood. While he stumbled back, head barely hanging on by pieces of string and a spine, I grabbed his arm that he groped me with and snapped it on my knee. I heard his exasperated breathing get worse, then I kicked him into a bush and walked home, rather pleased to know that my capabilities for manslaughter weren't diminished by a lack of testosterone.

When I got home, I peeled my clothes off and showered again to get all the disgusting sweat to leave my body, then I penetrated myself with a bottle of hairspray since it was the only penis-shaped object in the house, but it hurt like Hell because of a lack of lubrication and I unknowingly took my own virginity. Knowing this pain would not at all play out in sympathy when I eventually take my girlfriend's virginity months later.

I don't know if I was irritable from the heat or lack of sleep or because I'm bleeding internally due to my period or taking my own virginity, but I really just wanted to go to sleep. I was also drinking, and my alcohol tolerance seemed to improve since I was essentially my mother at this point. Maybe the reason my breasts were so large was because I had a pair of extra livers growing in them, I don't know. While I drank, I got to eat a delicious TV dinner filled with asbestos and cancer, which was akin to eating at Carls Jr. during a Health Inspector strike. When I got into bed, I had trouble going to sleep because having two gelatinous masses suddenly growing out of your chest ends up being a peculiar issue to adjust your sleeping habits to. After I passed out, I woke up the following morning, and lo and behold, everything was back to normal. I didn't know if anything of yesterday's events had actually occurred or if I was just seriously tripping for an entire day.

"So you're back to normal." My girlfriend greeted me in the morning on our way to school.
"...Wait, all that actually happened?" I inquired.
"All what happened? You were sick yesterday."
"Oh. Well yeah, I guess I'm fine now. I think."
"Good."
"Wait what were doing yesterday?"
"Walked home, somebody found Dave Hueley murdered in the bushes."
"...You don't say."
"A pity."
"Anything else of significance?" I asked. She paused and looked at me.

"Oh, I also beat up a wizard."

I'm just a little misguided, but my intentions are good.

Before I was a pussy who couldn't talk to women. Then I started watching Johnny Bravo. I learned everything I could from Johnny Bravo about how to court a woman. The following day I walked into class, and I caught the eyes of all the women in there. I got those tarts so damp that the humidity in the room increased. Fuck year. I was dressed in skin-tight leather so whenever I made sudden movements, you could hear whiplashes. I had a pompadour so large and phallic that it would get caught on the doorway if I didn't duck. It was gelled to be hard enough to be used as a weapon. I could literally headbutt a woman into orgasming with my hair. I was injected with enough steroids to buff up that I'm surprised my penis and testicles still legally existed.

I sit down, and all the women want to sit next to me. "Hang on, ladies, there's enough of me to go around," I say. That didn't stop them. Even the teacher couldn't keep her eyes off of me. She ordered all of the boys except me out of the classroom. I smiled. I knew what was going to happen. Except I didn't, and they all tied me down and force-fed me viagra and had sex marathons with me for 10 hours without stopping. Woman after woman after woman treated me like nothing more than an object, a plaything. I was exhausted, dehydrated, and my manhood was worked raw as I cried pitifully, covered in all manner of fluids and materials as they left me over night. My psychosis began to slowly slip into oblivion as I contemplated life. About how I wondered where everything went wrong. About how I was just mercilessly tortured for hours on end by those vile succubi. I eventually worked my wrists raw and bloody to get myself untied and escaped the classroom. The only thought that crossed my blank mind was "Shit, I feel sorry for the janitor when he comes in tomorrow morning."

I go home and sleep as if nothing had happened. I stood by my teaching of Johnny Bravo, but now this time for vengeance. When I left, I would drive by lone women on the streets. They would swoon over me. I would offer them a ride, and they willingly accepted. What happened I will not describe. You do not deserve to have that brought up on you. But those women, I learned they all couldn't be trusted. I would humiliate them, torture them, and eventually my psychosis slipped into murder. The first victim was a young brunette on the 28th. She had a nice smile. I cut her a nicer one.

Eventually I was having intercourse with a woman I picked up in my car. Eventually I started getting rougher, then I started crying profusely shouting why Mama doesn't see me as an adult, so I started strangling her there. I choked the life out of that bitch. I crushed her dainty throat with my pulsating muscles, my sunglasses showing no inflection. That girl only saw herself looking back in horror as I squeezed the last breathes of life from her. I stopped and started crying at what I had become. Then I realized, I realized that all my indignant fury was misplaced. The real man who was responsible for the monster that had been created... was Johnny Bravo. And by extension, Seth MacFarlane. I realized what I had to do. I was to kill Seth Macfarlane for what he's done. This went beyond what he did with the fourth season of Family Guy. This was personal.

Of course being lost in rage, I didn't know what Seth MacFarlane looked like, so when I flew to Connecticut, I started killing indiscriminately, hoping one of them would be him. Now I'm a convicted sex offender and serial killer who's murdered 23 people.

This is why cartoons are bad influences on children.