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 The Secret Biker Chick....  another tale of the Evil Fag-Hag

   Irene U.  Dean wasn't exactly human, she was centuries ago but her path
was set through ages of miserable karma lifetimes.  As initiate of a dying
ancient faith, when impure male warriors decided to overturn the Goddess in
Nature and deny the Lunar deity.

   Rogue males in rebellion against the Divine Mother, our Earth herself!
It all seemed so logical at the time, worship the Sun instead.  One Sun
equals one God, a man of course.  Always an ego driven (supposedly heroic)
warrior, a bonehead who couldn't see past his sword arm, usually.

   Unfathomable men using clever magick tricks and claiming to be god, just
add in a few shills writing it all down - then convince the unwashed masses
to believe the book holy.  As occult minded emissary for the Goddess, Irene
had seen it all before.

   How many eons had she waited for more reasonable minds on Mother Earth
to emerge?  More enlightened souls to interpret the cosmic events in
everyday life, a determined cabal of Goddess initiates, mostly.  Secret
agents like her who suffered though miserable occult lifetimes in order to
keep the faith.



   Persecuted without mercy for witchcraft and suppressed occult
scholarship, cloaked figures performing in secret at all the ancient sacred
sites: as emissary for a revitalized Goddess, Irene truly felt blessed.
To be chosen along with many other powerful souls to be reincarnated in
this era, a period of transition, a hard but special time.  At least on
this cosmic mission, she never had to suffer through marriage at the hands

of impure males.

   In a blessed age of transition to more sensible, goddess rule: a woman
living alone could indeed prosper.  Sure, everybody in this suburban town
understood that Irene U.  Dean was weird - but she was prosperous weird.

   With other worldly allies and 'mentors' you wouldn't believe, the
Goddess always takes care of her own, you see.  What she missed most in
this life was intelligent conversation - and not from those humanoids
brainwashed by mass media culture either.

   At least her favourite occult bookstore offered some, a Mecca of sorts
where new-age people could talk and enjoy a party or something.  Too bad
for her the bearded male warriors had to come and ruin everything again.

   Not the murderous spearmen as in days of yore, barbaric hordes who
overthrew the Goddess Nature of things; Thank the Divine Mother for that.
At least the abuse she suffered this time was verbal.

   Leather clad, motorcycle posse boys acting up drunk and disrespectful
towards her, ruining the pleasant party atmosphere she once enjoyed. 
Ruffians acting macho crazy, not at all like Irene's friends in the gay
community.

   Those males she felt most comfortable in this karmic lifetime.  One
elfin faced, smaller member of the macho tribe called her a 'fag-hag' and
the name stuck.  As secret agent for a revitalized ancient goddess, she
didn't actually object to being called a 'Fag-Hag.', to her, it seemed a
badge of honour.

   But it made the Fag-Hag's blood boil, it did.  Something had to be done,
the witchy on steroids old crone decided, but what?  The morning after
another party, the Fag-Hag was beginning to feel depressed, an internal
response about her role in last night's occult bookstore party climate.

   She should have handled those drug-crazed motorcycle goons better when
all the serious drinking began.  One of them was this ruffian with luminous
red hair, unleashing his drunken macho venom on her nephew Tommy.

   This unruly rascal tormenting her openly gay houseguest in front of
everyone in cruel tease; an 18-year-old macho boy from the motorcycle
tribe. Making cruel homophobic comments about her nephew Tommy, that little
macho biker boy from inside his own posse and pretending he was bad.

   Being lonely for any emerging gay teen-ager has got to be tough, with an
almost driven younger spirit in constant turmoil.  The Fag-Hag's nephew
Tommy was a shy and pleasant mannered youth from San Francisco who happened
to be gay.

   Having the courage to come out at the age of sixteen, but that was in
California.  Here, in this midwestern town, his Aunt Irene felt compelled
to protect him somehow.  He was the Fag-Hag's dearest of family members,
this openly gay nineteen year old who decided to attend university and move
in with her.

   In an effort to jump-start her nephew's social life, his aunt encouraged
him go out to her favourite occult bookstore where he might meet new
friends in town.  At least some local boys, the Fag-hag reasoned, the
occult always did attract a certain cadre of characters and freaks, of
course.

   Too bad for Tommy his romantic heart seemed to be waiting for 'Prince
Charming.' As if his tormented gay soul was stuck in this storybook fantasy
mode, vulnerable to the charms of an awaiting boyfriend, of course.  Too
bad for him he didn't have a lot of luck with the other guys.

   His inexperienced young heart was still waiting for some handsome suitor
to bond with; his hope was some fairy tale ending like in happily forever
after.  So far, Tommy's efforts to date other boys had been less than
promising.

   Tommy Naylor's face was bothered by zits, his never-ending battle
against teen-age acne.  The Fag-Hag's nephew discovered he was gay in
Junior High School; a small framed and acne plagued young man.  He seldom
enjoyed a serious relationship.  Any sexual bonding for him was as a
submissive 'bottom.'

   For some reason, he always had this fantasy about some really cute
red-haired guy to really like him.  During the summer months, Tommy was
beginning to blossom inside this new-age cadre of buddies.

   Often clad in leather jeans, lavender tank top and Roman sandals, he was
beginning to hang out at the local occult bookstore party scene in order to
meet boys.  Many of Tommy's local friends worked at this central warehouse
that distributed vegan foods; robust young bucks who happened to be gay.

   Legal age males sporting the best hairstyles and the deepest tans, guys
who worked out at the gym together and shared this mansion in the far
suburbs.  Too bad Tommy Naylor's worldly, California gay 'cool' image began
to attract the notice of unruly, homophobic others.

   One was this impudent macho tart who rode with the motorcycle posse,
acting up drunken loud at this new-age party; a little ruffian making snide
remarks about her gentle dear nephew just because he needed to show off or
something.

   The Fag-Hag's nephew Tommy had to be the perfect target for naughty ass
biker boy's own (repressed) homo-erotic desires.  A devotee of the goddess
of alternative romance, the occult savvy Fag-Hag certainly noticed when
that unruly, but sinfully attractive macho youth exhibited this
undercurrent of curiosity about her openly gay, teen-age houseguest.

   The two encountered each other as polar opposites inside the same
new-age party circuit.  It appeared that whenever her nephew and that
little macho redhead were inside the same room together - their very eyes
seemed to perk up.

   Reactions to each other were easily triggered between them, some acute
but inner awareness with sexual overtones, the Fag-Hag appreciated the
irony; of this cute little macho tart from the biker gang - disguising his
own attractions for her Tommy in silly ass, homophobic tease.

   The energy flowing out from the both appeared to come from this same
karmic source, according to an occult savvy Auntie's third eye.  That
secret cherry fruit checking her gentle nephew out from inside his own
outlaw circle, the Fag-Hag was able to see beyond that little punk's macho
mask.

   Any agent of the goddess of could see emotionally starved young hearts
so needing to unite.  At first she hesitated in meddling into her nephew's
fierce romantic woes, but....

   As his occult savvy Auntie, Irene gifted her ward with this enchanted
warrior relic from the Bronze Age.  Some battered armband that could have
belonged to heroic warriors of some mythic struggle, the Fag-Hag hoped its
spiritual energy would bolster her timid teen nephew's male juices somehow.

   She hoped its symbolism of ancient manhood would inspire her Tommy to
stand up against the homo-bashing crowd, to help him in a face off against
that little redhead bully, for instance.

   Those two always did enjoy a strange relationship, now the ancient
warrior bracelet she gave her nephew earlier was stirring his male juices
into something strong and wild.

   A painfully shy, bottom submissive gay before; Tommy was displaying this
hard-on desire to sexually impale that, little beet-top bully who tormented
him not long ago.  It seemed that ancient warrior relic had to be doing it
- making her formerly bottom loving nephew feel his lusty male oats!

   Everybody at the party must have noticed when her Tommy began sporting
his warrior armband, smiling in a more wicked form of sexual confidence,
almost stalking his romantic prey and making lewd and boyish flirt.

   His sinfully cute, red haired bully appeared to be intimidated by such a
new and improved same sex suitor.  Right about then, his Auntie Irene had
this irresistible urge to push Tommy's reluctant boy tart over the edge.

   Just some lame sexual polarity spell really, any initiate of the Goddess
could do it.  One more pink magick spell to break some macho ice, little
did the Fag-Hag suspect her antics would cause such wild romantic mischief.

   A chain reaction of happenings that would transform that little macho,
redhead into an alluring femme; a most romantic sentence for him and her
openly gay nephew when they finally hooked up.

   At the last occult bookstore party, Auntie Irene noticed her Tommy
mingling close enough to smell the traces of marijuana the other boy smoked
earlier.  Then she caught Tommy following that cheeky macho rascal from
behind in order to see those flexing sexy boy buns!

   It was remarkable to watch her formerly withdrawn, nephew coming on with
solid confidence in the romantic game.  Wearing this enchanted warrior
armband from some heroic age, and sweet-talking that cute-ass macho tart
that tormented him earlier.

   She knew her own nephew was often a determined young man, a spoiled rich
brat who usually got whatever he wanted - and his solid loins wanted to
capture that little macho redhead so very badly.

   The Fag-Hag actually cheered for her devilishly potent gay houseguest as
he was trying to 'score.' Seeing this curiously jaded, skirt-chasing biker
boy offering no resistance as Tommy petted his sweet tight behind.

   Noticing a more animated and flirty kind of party companion for her
nephew now, Tommy's little biker tart being led around from behind in
strong romantic escort.  A very much distracted posse boy, so grateful his
homophobic drinking buddies were away, enjoying Tommy's advances in this
girly timid way.

   "He doesn't even understand his attraction to other boys." Her young
stallion houseguest lamented to his Auntie after the party later.  Such a
pixie-faced macho rascal appeared to drive her young nephew's male hormones
off the charts.

   "That foxy little devil could have all kinds of boyfriends if he ever
decided to swing gay!" "Little beet-top hottie knows he's your sexual
flavour." She warned her openly gay, teen-age houseguest.  "But your pretty
red queen could be too wild and unsettled for you, maybe."

   "Those guys he hangs out with are these incredible goons, you know?"
Tommy lamented.  "What kind of kinky romantic game is he playing on me?"
"Your homo-hating redhead clearly has personality disorders." The Fag-Hag
reminded her love-struck nephew.

   It seemed poetic that an exotic gift she gave him, some battered warrior
relic from some long-ago heroic age - would inspire Tommy's very male loins
into this towering need for romantic conquest.

   It had to be outrageous sexual karma.  The Fag-Hag's California 'cool'
gay buck actually admitted to his 'Auntie' that he was having wet-dreams
about sexually dominating that rebellious teen-age tart.

   Her wickedly motivated young buck acted as if he was staking his claim
to a mate, this prissy gay virgin still playing naughty with other boys. 
The motorcycle riding gangsters, Tommy meant.  Many were hard-core
criminals.

   The very idea that his elusive teen vixen was still seeing those bad
boys infuriated him: "Hanging out with those bearded butch guys and their
motor-cycles all the time - I just hate it when he sucks up to them!"

   "He needs to get away from those pricks." Tommy's Auntie Irene decided
with laughter.  Wondering about her nephew's naughty but sweet little
redhead tart, one that secretly craved to suck up to real boyfriend
instead!

   "Yea." Tommy agreed.  "And he needs to look cuter so other boys will
like him." As a genuine Fag-Hag, his auntie raised an eyebrow at Tommy's
remark.  Her (suddenly butch) nephew was already deciding to make over his
elusive motorcycle bitch.

   Tommy boy was still speaking intensely, hands close to making fists and
saying: "And he needs to get off the booze and weed - Sometimes I just want
to spank his pansy ass for pretending to be the man!"
Of course she laughed again.  There was no doubt in Tommy's mind that
biker boy secretly craved to bat for his team.  As astrologer, the Fag-Hag
explained to her nephew that little macho boyfriend's relationship problems

were associated with Neptune, which explained a lot.

   It meant her nephew's elusive boy-toy was easily led astray by bad
companions and was vulnerable to their influence.  It also explained that
perky teen-age tart's attraction to drugs and alcohol.

   This local macho youth disguising his own affections for her gay nephew
with silly ass homophobic antics - luckily for him a genuine Fag-Hag could
jump-start his romantic chase.

   As prospective matchmaker, Tommy's maiden aunt suspected that red haired
rascal was too emotionally independent for any serious sexual relationship,
but she was counting on her Druid magic to break down a few barriers.

   Most of Tommy's other same sex prospects in town appeared a bit
unsuitable for a proper hook-up.  Some were too butch and laden with
testosterone for a certain Fag-Hag to consider.

   Other new-age fellows had more serious addiction or sexual identity
issues, a reformed but still innocent, emerging gay hottie had to appear
more promising.

   It actually seemed poetic if her (slightly butch) nephew could finally
capture his same sex virgin in soap opera fashion.  Wouldn't biker boy's
macho drinking buddies just enjoy seeing that!

   Under the proper kind of sexual domination, a little gay prick teaser
like the red haired rascal would prove to become pussy cat docile in the
hands of a determined kind of ramrod lover, wickedly obedient to his will.

   It seldom made sense to take charge of another person's love life; but
the occult savvy Fag-Hag believed her Tommy could push that reluctant boy
tart away from his unworthy macho cohorts and into a more healthy new-age
lifestyle.

   A most devoted bedroom love mate could really boost her nephew's sexual
confidence too.  Her Tommy was probably feeling his romantic mating call of
sorts, as if his very loins needed to sexually deflower that naughty ass
rascal in this painfully demanding way.

   "I want to do him more than anything!" Tommy proclaimed to her several
times.  As this most confident gay lion wishing only to impale that
passive/ aggressive teenage fruit, taking easy conquest on that confused
boy tart who first decided to come on to him in silly ass homophobic tease

   "I'm pretty sure that cherry ass rascal will fall for you, Tommy." The
Fag-Hag soothed to reassure him, her virile young gay houseguest.  She
really wanted to help her nephew cultivate a more supportive romantic
partner in this town, a sweet loving boyfriend for her young ward to
appreciate, somebody nice to look at for Tommy to share his love life with
now.

   "You must really turn that cute little macho bully on, Tommy." The
Fag-Hag positively cackled to report: "I seen it when you kissed his ear
lobe and asked him out on a date during last night's party.  He was
blushing rather nicely when I spotted that rising tent-pole in his jeans!"

   "Yea." Tommy crowed, smiling at his auntie like a cat might after
swallowing a canary.  " I suggested in his ear that we could make it as
secret lovers...I told him to wear really tight shorts if he wanted me to
do him.  I think we'll be doing it soon, don't you?"

   The Fag-Hag and her jubilant teen nephew were still laughing about it
when they heard the doorbell ring.  An occult savvy woman, she wasn't
exactly surprised to see Tommy's date at the door.

   His jaded romantic visitor was smiling sheepishly at her and looking so
leggy fresh.  Wearing the tightest of red shorts with coppery red hair
neatly combed, silly lips smacking naughty like a boy about to be
disciplined.









   The end.....for now.......





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