THE METAMORPHOSIS

THE METAMORPHOSIS

Years ago, I was visiting my friends at their campus when this very effeminate guy showed up. His face was well-powdered, his brows were evidently carefully brushed and he wore a generous amount of lip gloss. The native attire he was wearing clung to his body like a second complexion and he had a scarf round his neck and carried a bag that straddled the line between masculine and feminine.

We exchanged brief hellos and as we introduced ourselves to each other, I could not miss how very silky-soft his palms were as we shook hands. He told me his name was Barry and afterwards, I didn’t pay him any attention. But I noticed all through my visit that he kept looking at me, and in all honesty, I had no clue as to why he was staring at me. All the same, I paid him no attention.

A few days later, I was back to my friends’ place on campus and what I was told shocked me. They told me Barry liked me and had asked for my number.

“How?” I wondered. For starters, I was Bottom, and no shade, but Barry was several light years, planets and galaxies away from what my ideal man ought to be.

“She say she be man,” one friend joked, much to the amusement of the others, while I stood there, thoroughly bewildered.

And then, as if Loki had finally found his latest victim to trick, guess who walked in?

Barry!

He tried getting all friendly with me as his well-manicured hands with their nail-polish-coated nails waved all over the place as if he was conducting a five-thousand-man orchestra performing Handel’s Messiah classic. I kept up a polite smile, trying my best to be cordial. And then, in the middle of a conversation we were having, he told me he liked me.

Even though all my nerves wanted to come together to scream “LESBIAN!”, I told him that us being together was not going to happen. I saw I bruised him with my response, but it was my truth. He was not the kind of man I wanted to be with.

On few occasions after that second meeting, I would run into Barry, and every time we met, I stayed civilised in my interactions with him.

Then, I wouldn’t see him again for about three years.

I was in Port Harcourt visiting a friend when I felt very rough-hewn hands cover my eyes as a scruffy baritone voice said in my ear, “Guess who?”

I began feeling the hands and thick muscular wrists in search of something that’d let me know who this was. But of course I couldn’t guess who he was, and so he let go. I turned around and it took me a moment for my brain to adjust to the information my eyes were giving it.

Standing before me was a very-muscular, scruffy-looking man dressed in a fitted short-sleeved shirt that worshipfully defined his physique and black jeans which he sagged, revealing sky-blue boxers.

It was when he smiled that my jaw smacked my toes.

“Barry?” I uttered in amazement.

Even as we greeted with a hug, my brain was still trying to figure out the answer to the question: How come?

“What happened?” I couldn’t stop myself blurting out.

“What do you mean?” his deep rough voice rumbled as he asked.

“All this…” I said, waving my hands all over his wonderfulness.

“Oh… You mean this,” he said as his hands casually gestured down his body. “You say it as if it’s a bad thing…” he said as his hand gently brushed my cheek.

I was still totally flabbergasted and this made him laugh hard, as he put his hands round my waist. He asked what I’d been up to all this time, and we chatted a bit.

During the course of our conversation, something he said struck me.

He said, “Since nobody wanted me, I had to kill ‘that’ to become ‘this’.”

When he said that, I looked into his eyes and saw no trace of regret or sadness. There was a strong aura of clarity and confidence that he carried.

I was thrown off balance when a car pulled up and a spitting image of him was behind the wheel. He had an identical twin. Both guys looked like miniature gods visited upon the world to torture homosexuals with desire.

Wow!

This was Barry!

Just Wow!

As he said goodbye, I couldn’t reconcile the image of Barry three years ago with this gorgeous hunk I’d just met. How was it possible that someone had changed so drastically, even right down to the texture of his voice?

Written by J

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12 Comments

  1. Yusuf
    April 29, 13:50 Reply

    😂😂😂😂😂this was me some light years ago, age 11, 12 I guess. In my case though I finally figured out that I didn’t have to be effeminate to attract guys (typically guys came at me like that) there were guys who actually did like men, and that was how I suddenly switched. Of course this doesn’t mean there aren’t guys who’re comfortable being effeminate but for me I loved the idea of being a ‘dude’ fucking another dude. It happens. I had a friend who was so effeminate he literally squatted to pee! And the next decade I saw him, phew! He had durags on baggy jeans, hell I almost didn’t recognize him. Some people change due to societal pressure, some like you say, metamorphosed into a different style. Curious though…would you freak with him now?😜

    • Slim
      April 30, 03:13 Reply

      Being a dude fucking a dude…. Sometimes you mustn’t have opinion for every topic… Just read and pass Biko….

      • Yusuf
        May 01, 07:20 Reply

        Read again…*in my case* thanks.

    • Khalifa
      May 01, 01:00 Reply

      That’s spec for you Mallam Yusuf, everyone has his own spec some like his man to be manly while someone has attracted only to effeminate while some some even like guys with smelling armpit lol

  2. trystham
    April 29, 19:06 Reply

    This made me feel terrible and I don’t know why – ‘I had to kill that to become this’

  3. Angel Saphiel Wisdom
    April 30, 11:37 Reply

    I am sure you very much like him now. And as for him all I had to say is congratulations…. Awwwwwwn. I need a friend like you my Dear, thanks for such lovely stories!!!

  4. Francis
    May 02, 08:41 Reply

    Hmmm, I don’t know how i feel about this but hey, if he’s genuinely happy now then I’m all for it.

  5. Ken
    May 02, 10:41 Reply

    You can’t fake who you are not forever. The facade will eventually fade. It’s such a shame that alot of gay men have to go thru what Barry went thru just to find acceptance or love. The level of rejection in the community is very very high. But the sad thing about being Barry, is that somewhere deep down, no matter who finally accepts him, he will always wonder if their love is genuine or perhaps the person just loves this “manly” version of him.

    • Leo
      May 03, 12:23 Reply

      This… It’ll always be there and will hurt the relationship.

  6. Bliss
    May 03, 14:12 Reply

    He said, “Since nobody wanted me, I had to kill ‘that’ to become ‘this’.”
    This sound as if he has regret thou.

    J, please when you meet Barry. Let him tell you the things he did to get him there.
    I am effeminate, but i desire to be masculine (not because of societal pressure thou)

  7. Priest
    May 18, 15:16 Reply

    This story is deep but I can relate! It’s called growth, I love and own who I am effeminate or not!!!!

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