A Pair of Objects Walk into a Bar

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A "tranny" and a "midget" bond over shared objectification.
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YKN4949
YKN4949
5,860 Followers

"She wouldn't even have to bend over or get on her knees!" One of the bros giggled to his friend. The other guy was nodding wildly.

"Usually they have those like...weird shaped foreheads and huge shoulders and shit. But she's..." the other guy responded, not exactly on point with the initial comment.

"She's fucking hot," the first guy finished for him.

I sighed deeply and kept looking ahead, wondering where my friends had wandered off to. I knew from the way they were talking that the bros didn't realize that I could hear. The music in the bar was pretty loud and the closest bro was two bar stools away from me. But, amongst everything else, I've always had truly excellent hearing (maybe because I was always straining to hear what people were saying about me, because they were always saying something). And yes, "everything else" includes the fact that I am a little person. Or as the bro next to me responded.

"The world's hottest fucking midget..."

Yes, it is I, Catrina Powell, the world's hottest midget...According to drunk guys at singles bars who've never met another little person.

Okay look, that sounds like I am being snide. But honestly, I am not overly sensitive. I don't even bother to correct people when they use the "M" word anymore (but, by the way, don't use the M-word. Not for my sake, but for yours. Do want to say something that might hurt someone else's feelings just to prove you can do it? Is that the person you are? No one outside a Donald Trump rally finds that attractive). And look, I am as vain as the next person. I like that people think my body looks good. Hell, I think it looks good.

I am 4'3 (like 132 centimeters) and I am well-proportioned. I have long, straight black hair, big dark eyes, a small nose and pouty pink lips. My arms are slender and well-balanced with the length of my torso. I have large (relative to my body) high breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips. My ass is large and muscular and my legs thick but not with a chunky build. So yeah, I am relatively happy with the way I look. As happy as any of my friends who aren't little people feel about their bodies, at least.

So I wasn't sighing because some half-drunken dudes were talking about my body to one another. I mean, I was dressed all slutty at a bar wasn't I? (For the record, it was a skin tight black cocktail dress that really pushed my tits up and exposed my cleavage. Short too. No joke intended there). I came here with my friends to try to find someone to hook up with. The whole idea was that someone would like my body and want to do something freaky with it. It was just...why did my attractiveness have to be relative to how other little people look? If I am hot, I'm hot. They didn't need to bash other ladies to justify it. And was I only hot because I was surprisingly well-proportioned for a little person? What sort of scale was I being evaluated on? In short, was I hot or was the idea of an attractive little person hot? That's why I carefully avoided making eye contact and willed my friends to return from wherever they'd gone.

"Dude," One of the guys said, "Think about it. You could just pick her up and..." Oh great, now I was picturing their ridiculous fantasy's as they narrated them. Maybe if they were good looking, but these guys...

As I tried my hardest not to listen, I became aware of the sound of clicking high heels moving behind me. I felt the presence before I saw the person, leaning over the backs of the barstools between me and the bros. My nose was instantly filled with the sharp, floral scent of a woman's perfume. At first I gazed out of the corner of my eye and caught a flash of long blonde hair and smooth tanned skin. I noticed that the woman was turned towards me as she leaned against the bar.

"Hey," she said. Despite my desire to avoid, at all costs, looking in the general direction of the bros, I instinctively turned towards the woman who had addressed me. She was stunningly pretty. She was tall and leggy, around 5'9, with a trim athletic build. Her hair was a sort of platinum blonde, very straight and long. She had these massive, incandescent green eyes that shimmered mischievously. Her nose was small and upturned slightly, she had thick red lips thickly painted. She had a long, slim neck and narrow shoulders. She was wearing a crop top that amounted to little more than a strip across her breasts, which were quite large. Her midriff was exposed and I could see she had a strikingly narrow waist with strikingly wide hips to match, a sort of...sexy cartoon build almost. Her ass was large and she was wearing a skin tight pair of jeans that accentuated that as she leaned over the bar. Her legs were slender but you could see her lithe muscles beneath the denim. In short, she was gorgeous. And I was a bit relieved. Maybe the bros' attention would shift...

"Hi," I responded uncertainly. As soon as the words left my mouth, the girl was talking again.

"So you're pretty small, huh?" she said. She spoke very loudly and winked at me at the same. She didn't say it in the...clueless sort of way that I was used to. It was theatrical.

"You're observant," I responded wryly, but not angrily.

"Does that mean you like small dicks? Like do you prefer really tiny penises?" she asked, smiling wickedly and raising her eyebrows. I almost laughed out loud. That was one way to start a conversation. I placed my elbow on the bar and leaned my head against my hand.

"No, not in particular," I said honestly. The woman turned quickly towards the bros.

"Sorry buddy," she said loudly and pointing at one guy, "She doesn't like guys with small penises. You're out of luck!" I heard the bartender and several other people in the area laugh. The other bro even laughed, though the other scrunched his face up angrily.

"Fuck you" the angry guy said, "You're such a fucking bitch!" He sputtered, looking at me and blushing deeply.

"Tell me I don't know what I am talking about David," she said, loudly emphasizing the name, "Do we want to talk about firsthand information, David?" David blushed more deeply and his friend made his face into a tight 'O.' Others were laughing.

"Fuck you Nikki," David said, essentially confirming that he knew her. He realized what he'd done and quickly rose from the barstool. He shuffled quickly out the door. The other bro shook his head for a minute, let his eyes run over Nikki's body, then followed his friend out. The rest of the bar quickly settled down. Once again Nikki turned and looked at me.

"Nikki Locke," the woman said, extending her hand. I shook it. She had this sort of...familiar attitude. It is hard to explain. I guess the word is charisma. I instantly felt myself drawn to her, smiling back.

"Catrina Powell," I said, a little dreamily. She tilted her head to the side as she looked at me.

"Hey, I didn't mean to chase those guys away if you were enjoying their...attention. I just figured..." she began, but I quickly raised my hands.

"No!" I said quickly and then laughed, "No. In fact, thank you, it was about to get weirdly graphic. And not in a fun way. Let me buy you a drink," I turned to the bar.

"Oh it was more to fuck with David than anything else. He should call a girl after a date. Especially one that...went so well for him," she said, "Besides, I have a pitcher over at my table." As she spoke, she gestured with her head towards a booth. Then she raised her eyebrows, "Actually, my friend found some chick to dance with and he left me alone. I am drinking a pitcher by myself. Why don't you come over and say thank you by making me a social drinker instead of an alcoholic. Everything is about context," She said. I looked out to the dance floor.

"Which one is your boyfriend?" I asked, pointing.

"Just friend," she said, raising her hand, "No boyfriend of mine is going to dance with someone else. And he is there," she said, pointing to a tall, goofy looking guy near the corner of the floor. I laughed.

"Well that explains where half of my friends went," I said, "He's dancing with my roommate."

"Small world," Nikki said, pushing herself away from the bar. I raised my eyebrows at the last statement.

"Small world?" I asked, "Is that some sort of crack?" I stared at her intently. I don't know why I asked. Maybe I was testing her. She instantly slapped herself in the forehead.

"Oh no, no, no!" she said, then she turned me again. I expected her to apologize and I prepared to say I was only kidding. I am really not that sensitive. Nikki had other ideas, "I was saving it up! I had it all planned out. I was going to make a really awful, I mean just miserably punny, little person joke in like five minutes! I just needed to formulate the perfect one and then deploy it at the right time. Now I wasted it," I laughed aloud. This girl was my speed.

"I won't judge you on the second one if you promise it's really bad," I said.

"Don't be condescending. I blew it. I don't need your pity. It won't have any impact now. Come on, I need a drink," she said with faux sadness. She began slumping towards the booth and, gamely, I hopped off my stool and followed after. Without really thinking about it, I watched her large, round ass tick side to side as she walked towards the booth. She was very...well made.

A minute later we were sitting at the table and Nikki was pouring me a drink. This wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind, but it was better than sitting at the bar by myself. I took a sip of my beer and settle down into the booth.

"Ugh, Natty. What're you in college?" I asked, wincing at the cheap, bitter beer. Nikki fanned herself dramatically.

"Mercy me, where are my manners?" she said in an affected accent, then following up flatly, "We aren't all millionaires who can afford fancy foreign Czech beers like 'Bud Light.' I thought the point was to get drunk." With that she door a deep gulp of her beer and at the same time, she tapped the bottom of my glass, willing me to drink. I smiled and placed it to my lips. Somehow, she'd come off self-deprecating and charming, despite the sort of manic nature of her words and tone. It was a gift she had.

"I was just expecting Schlitz is all," I said, warming to the flavor and the memories of university parties.

"Malt liquor for the paying customers," she explained and drank again, "Damsels in distress get the government cheese."

"Is that what I am? A damsel?" I asked pointing to my chest with all five fingers splayed, "Isn't that a little dramatic?" Although, I sort of liked the imagery.

"Well I rescued you didn't I? Slew the dragon...even if it was very, very small dragon," she said, and smiled and winked again. I wondered if David felt the burn in the parking lot. I grinned and shook my head.

"You don't know the half of it," I said, looking back towards the bar.

"How's that?" Nikki asked, throwing one arm over the back of the booth, and slumping down comfortable. She sipped her beer in the other hand.

"Well you chased two guys off, but two more probably would have taken their place. You got me out of the line of fire by bringing me over here," I explained.

"Next two guys going to rob the place?" Nikki asked snottily, but playfully.

"The figurative line of fire," I returned in the same vein, "Trust me. I am safer here than at the bar where everyone has to spot and look at me."

"Aren't we pretty full of ourselves?" Nikki said, "You're hot, but I mean you're no Nikki Locke." I actually blushed, she'd said I was hot.

"That isn't what I mean," I said, "For some guys, I am the fantasy rather than the person. I can spot them when they walk in the door."

"I know that game," Nikki said certainly. I sort of rolled my eyes to myself. Even women could be willfully ignorant about this stuff sometimes.

"Okay calm yourself sweetheart," I responded knowingly, "Yes, you are blonde. Yes, you are thin. And yes, you have some pretty big tits. You're a vision of pure desire. You walked out of a Playboy centerfold and directly into this bar..."

"Is this a dream? Could anyone other than me have scripted this conversation?" Nikki asked, looking around wildly. I laughed but continued on.

"But you are the object of totally normal, gross dude attention. Eventually, maybe, the guy would see you as a person because you're just a particularly attractive example of a 'normal' woman. You have no idea what it's like to be half the bar's weird little fixation." Nikki looked me up and down once or twice. She nodded her head as though she was thinking about what I said. Finally, she raised her eyebrows and opened her free palm.

"You know you're right. I have never been anyone's weird little fixation. I don't know what that's like," she said, and I nodded appreciatively. She understood, "But...but!" she said, raising one finger in the air and leaning towards me, "she really, really does. Maybe even better than you." And as she said the last phrase she pointed down, into the booth, under the table, between her legs. Instinctively, my eyes followed the direction of her point. I didn't even have time to think about what I was looking for or who 'she' was. I looked down across Nikki's bare midriff, tracking the path of her finger. I looked at her skin-tight jeans. And then I noticed something. A tell-tale bulge against her left, inner thigh.

"Well, not that little of a fixation," she said, as I looked up, mouth slightly agape.

"Is that...?" I started.

"No, it isn't," Nikki said seriously, "It absolutely isn't a roll of quarters. It's a penis," Nikki said. My eyes shot back up to her face. She was smiling at me smugly. I had to admit...she probably had me beat. But, surprisingly quickly, the shock seemed to fade away. I realized what it meant...the implications of the fact that Nikki was trans. Well, not just trans. The fact that she wasn't anyone's idea of "normal" either.

"Okay," I said, leaning in towards her, "Don't you fucking hate it when they..." And then we were off. We must've talked nonstop for the next two hours. I instantly dropped my sarcastic superiority and Nikki dropped her ironic detachment. Even before we spoke, we knew that the other person would understand everything. I mean, I'd never met a transwoman before and I was at least relatively sure that Nikki hadn't spent much time with little people. But we were two...non-conventionally attractive women living in a man's world. The connection that I'd somehow felt with Nikki from the beginning suddenly seemed to make sense. I must've sensed a kindred spirit from the outset and we slipped into an instant, intense intimacy.

Some of our talks was just about the basic inconvenience of being a "different" kind of woman in a world that was designed for someone else. The awful names. The embarrassing questions. The hatred that came from the small-minded. And in some ways worse, the ignorance that came from people who generally meant well but appeared so often that it became a draining chore to deal with them. But mostly what we talked about was what it meant to date as a little person or as a transwoman. After all, that was the area with the deepest vein of material for both of us.

I told Nikki about all of the awful male interactions that I'd had in my life. No, that's a lie. We only talked for two hours. It would've taken a month to tell her everything. I gave her the highlights. I told her about the guy who tried to convince me to hide in "small" places in his house and then, when he nonchalantly walked by naked, wanted me to jump out and suck his dick. I told her about the guy who wanted me to ride him like a "horsey" around his apartment. He had a saddle. I told her about the guy who on our second date (in some sort of weird size reversal) wanted to dress up in a diaper, piss himself, and have me change him. Finally, I told her of the unrelenting hell that was St. Patrick's Day, Chicago, 2015. The key word is leprechaun. You can imagine the details for yourself.

Nikki matched and, in some ways, surpassed every story I brought up. She told me guy who wanted to "pretend" he didn't know she was trans so that he could "pretend" to be angry when he discovered it, followed by a rape role play. She told me about the guy who broke up with her because she had a bigger penis (the guy measured three times, four millimeters different each time). She told me about the guy who was extremely aroused by the idea of telling his mother that his girlfriend was trans. And she explained that she had been accused of lying no fewer than a dozen times because the first thing out of her mouth on a date wasn't "I have a penis."

There was almost no reticence in our conversation. We both just dived in head first, telling the worst that we could think of with absolute candor. We spoke over one another, rushing to get out every detail. I told Nikki things that I never would have told anyone else ever, let alone a stranger. And I was pretty sure she was sharing pretty deeply buried secrets as well. But neither of us felt embarrassed or ashamed. That was, sort of, the way we were always supposed to feel. But together, suddenly, we were able to turn that shame back on our tormentors. Suddenly, they were the ones who were abnormal. When it was just me and Nikki, we were the people and other people were objects for our amusement. Other people were the natural-born perverts.

It was about two hours after we'd first started talking, and the bar was starting to wind down. My friends had both left, sure that because I was with another woman I was safe. My roommate had actually left with Nikki's friend. They were going to my place. The dining area was now completely abandoned except for Nikki and me. We were totally comfortable. We were leaning close together, talking quietly and sipping beers. By now, I felt like I'd known her for years. We were locked together. And that allowed up to open up, getting more philosophical in our complaints.

"What I really hate," I was explaining, "Is that because I am some guy's fetish, then he just assumes that I am into all the other weird fetishes the guy is into. I mean let's be honest, I probably am. I am a freak. I'm into just about everything. But he shouldn't just assume it!" I said. Nikki tilted her head to the side, smiling strangely.

"So you're into anything?" She asked. I'd really just been joking to emphasize a point. I was relatively vanilla. But there was something very serious in Nikki's eyes. I couldn't tell what she was getting at. I felt the mood suddenly shift, and for reasons I didn't fully understand, I felt my heart fluttering.

"Pretty much," I whispered, my voice croaking slightly. Nikki looked at me silently for several seconds. My eyes moved around her body. I saw her large breasts rising and falling sharply as she took a few deep breaths.

"You ever kissed a tranny?" she asked, using the 'fetish' word she'd been decrying all night. She bit her lower lip as she said it, looking around the room as if to emphasize that no one was really around. The fluttering in my heart jumped up a few hundred beats per minute. I felt my cheeks warm and my palms get sweaty. But I smiled back.

"You ever kissed a midget?" I asked, mirroring her fetishizing language. Nikki laughed. And then she pounced. I rushed to meet her. I felt like I was being propelled. I don't know if it was traditional attraction. I mean, I became aware, all at once, that the connection I'd been feeling had had a dimension I hadn't even realized. And I knew that Nikki was absolutely...stunning. The curves, the elegance, the beauty of her form...I saw it. And I really liked it. But more fundamentally, I think I recognized that I had a chance to have...some kind of experience with someone who would see me as a person. Someone who would understand. Nikki felt the same thing. And neither of us wanted to miss that opportunity.

YKN4949
YKN4949
5,860 Followers