Terminology help
I'm writing on the Phantasmagoria again.
This time it's Wolfgang and Jene. And Jene is being a problem.
Jene is a hermaphrodite. Not intersexed, but rather their left side is male and the right side is female and they have the genitals of both, but only one breast. Each side has complete autonomy. Gene has backslanted lefty writing. Jean has perfect Palmer script.
Gene and Jean Carlisle were a cute little Beat couple who called themselves "Jene" when they went to the Phantasmagoria Carnival one June afternoon in 1960. They fell asleep in a train car and awakened to find themselves sharing a single body. Now, Jene is a fire artist, spinning it, eating it, and swallowing a flaming sword as the climax of the act.
After a failed affair with Torturo the Pain King and an uncomfortable relationship with Alice and Dinah, the conjoined twins, Jene has finally found some stability with Wolfgang, the escape artist. Wolfgang apparently suffers from Hypertrichosis, looking like this:
I told you all that to ask you this:
I know "hermaphrodite" is considered offensive in the GLBT community. What would be the appropriate term? Androgyne? Help!
Wolfgang was practicing when Jene came in, slamming the door of the rail-car they shared. Jene scowled at him and he stopped. "What happened?" he asked, never looking up from his Mozart. He'd learned not to make eye contact when Jene was angry.
"One good goddamn guess," Jene growled, Gene's voice coming to the fore in anger. "Jacob," added Jean, her voice higher than her left side's.
"You picked a fight," Wolfgang said, running an absent little glissando on the keyboard. "And he lost, as always." He pecked out "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah." Jene slammed the keyboard shut on his hands. He yelped.
Wolfgang looked up and growled. "Don't make me angry, Schatzi."
Jene laughed. "Or. What?" they asked.
Wolfgang's golden eyes flashed orange fire and his already prominent canines extended. His hair-covered hand sprouted claws at the end of the fingers. “Don't, please,” he whimpered. “Jene, please...”
Jene knew he hated to lose control, but the hermaphrodite danced through the Phantasmagoria Carnival, a Janus-faced force of chaos, disrupting everyone's control. Wolfgang had no doubt that Jacob, Torturo the Pain King himself, was licking his wounds from Jene's attack.
Wolfgang extricated his throbbing fingers and stood up. Jene folded themself around him and kissed him, by turns meltingly sweet and viciously biting. Wolfgang shook his head and went with it. The beast his lovers wanted, the beast they would have. He grasped the back of Jene's head with his right hand, pulling Gene's short hair. His left found its way to Jean's breast and squeezed hard.
Jean squealed, her soprano voice shrill with pained pleasure, as Wolfgang dug his claws into the hard nipple, not quite breaking skin. Wolfgang let his face change. The semi-leonine contours of his hairy face shifted, a muzzle coming to the fore filled with sharp teeth.
This was the side the crowds never saw. They saw a hypertrichosis sufferer, a man covered in hair, who did escapes, made jokes and played Mozart on the piano. They never got the werewolf. Only Torturo, Mingxia the acrobat and Jene had seen that. Of them all, only Jene had stayed.
This time it's Wolfgang and Jene. And Jene is being a problem.
Jene is a hermaphrodite. Not intersexed, but rather their left side is male and the right side is female and they have the genitals of both, but only one breast. Each side has complete autonomy. Gene has backslanted lefty writing. Jean has perfect Palmer script.
Gene and Jean Carlisle were a cute little Beat couple who called themselves "Jene" when they went to the Phantasmagoria Carnival one June afternoon in 1960. They fell asleep in a train car and awakened to find themselves sharing a single body. Now, Jene is a fire artist, spinning it, eating it, and swallowing a flaming sword as the climax of the act.
After a failed affair with Torturo the Pain King and an uncomfortable relationship with Alice and Dinah, the conjoined twins, Jene has finally found some stability with Wolfgang, the escape artist. Wolfgang apparently suffers from Hypertrichosis, looking like this:
I told you all that to ask you this:
I know "hermaphrodite" is considered offensive in the GLBT community. What would be the appropriate term? Androgyne? Help!
Wolfgang was practicing when Jene came in, slamming the door of the rail-car they shared. Jene scowled at him and he stopped. "What happened?" he asked, never looking up from his Mozart. He'd learned not to make eye contact when Jene was angry.
"One good goddamn guess," Jene growled, Gene's voice coming to the fore in anger. "Jacob," added Jean, her voice higher than her left side's.
"You picked a fight," Wolfgang said, running an absent little glissando on the keyboard. "And he lost, as always." He pecked out "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah." Jene slammed the keyboard shut on his hands. He yelped.
Wolfgang looked up and growled. "Don't make me angry, Schatzi."
Jene laughed. "Or. What?" they asked.
Wolfgang's golden eyes flashed orange fire and his already prominent canines extended. His hair-covered hand sprouted claws at the end of the fingers. “Don't, please,” he whimpered. “Jene, please...”
Jene knew he hated to lose control, but the hermaphrodite danced through the Phantasmagoria Carnival, a Janus-faced force of chaos, disrupting everyone's control. Wolfgang had no doubt that Jacob, Torturo the Pain King himself, was licking his wounds from Jene's attack.
Wolfgang extricated his throbbing fingers and stood up. Jene folded themself around him and kissed him, by turns meltingly sweet and viciously biting. Wolfgang shook his head and went with it. The beast his lovers wanted, the beast they would have. He grasped the back of Jene's head with his right hand, pulling Gene's short hair. His left found its way to Jean's breast and squeezed hard.
Jean squealed, her soprano voice shrill with pained pleasure, as Wolfgang dug his claws into the hard nipple, not quite breaking skin. Wolfgang let his face change. The semi-leonine contours of his hairy face shifted, a muzzle coming to the fore filled with sharp teeth.
This was the side the crowds never saw. They saw a hypertrichosis sufferer, a man covered in hair, who did escapes, made jokes and played Mozart on the piano. They never got the werewolf. Only Torturo, Mingxia the acrobat and Jene had seen that. Of them all, only Jene had stayed.