Martyr for my own success

So, it's getting close now. I bought a "new" (thrifted) phone that I need to buy a new battery for (nice, they sold me a broken fucking battery), got a free sim-card to use for that phone if I can get it to work so I can have that as my "work phone" for contacting clients. Nope, you can't have that number, unless you also want to buy some sweet time. I'm still gonna keep using my regular phone and number for everything else, so it's not a replacement. I set up a new e-mail address/account to be my "work e-mail" for the same reasons. I bought a camera, memory card and tripod so I can take decent looking photos of myself for my profiles/accounts on escort websites.

Now... there's not much more left to do. I just need to get those photos taken, get that damn phone in order and hope the new battery I just bought will do the trick, and then just go over my checklist a few hundred more times. Then I will start. The scary adventure shall begin then. I expect that I will start selling sexual services to other men, from sometime during the first week of May, give or take a few days. It feels surreal now, as I've been planning it for months, and thought about/considered doing it for almost a decade. To just be a week or two away from setting off... it's surreal.

I did manage to take at least a few photos today. For my profiles on escort sites, that is. But fucking hell, I prepared myself for I don't know, maybe 3 hours, then took photos and checked angles and fixed with the camera for like 2 hours, and... got 10 pictures. That's like 2 pictures per hour, if you put it in perspective. With all my breaks for cigarettes, coffee, online scrolling and food included, it was more like 8 hours in total though. Cause I started at noon and I've just sat down feeling done at 8 pm. Sun went down, and I won't get the kind of lighting I want anymore today.

By the time I was done preparing myself with manscaping, shaving, washing and trying out outfits I was very fucking tired and gulped down coffee while cutting my nails, sighed and wondered how the fuck I was gonna have any energy to take any pictures at all, while also grimacing at the setting sun cause it reminded me that I was starting to run out of time and I should at least try to take a few pictures to get some profit for all that work. I googled a trustworthy escort site for men and looked at some of the guys' profiles there to get some inspiration for what kind of pictures to take of myself. Instantly found a gold member who looks really fucking high-end professional and I was certainly inspired... damn, that's a hot guy who definitely knows how to show his best side on camera...

Anyhow, I was mostly inspired by him cause he doesn't look too mainstream, like he has a bit of an alternative touch to his style, with tattoos and dyed hair (dark with some highlights, so nothing crazy). Because I don't want to look too mainstream in my own pictures, although I also don't have the intention of looking like I'm a bdsm-obsessed vampire living in the dungeon of a castle either. So, more like mainstream but with a goth touch and a hint of a bdsm interest.

Although there's one outfit that I just must bring out in photos... fake leather vest in biker style, fake leather gloves also biker style, my old leather combat boots, and a pair of tiny thongs that look very "rock chick" feminine that I randomly found in a wilfully forgotten moving box of mine. I really had an epiphany when I thought of that look. To dress my female parts in feminine clothing and the rest in masculine: to highlight my transness in a creative and sexy way. Hell yeah, I'm best of two worlds! However, I didn't wear anything for the photos I took today. Thought mostly I'm gonna need to have pics in which I'm just simply naked, whether my privy parts show in them or not. I just wore my silver dragon necklace and piercing jewellery like I always do.

I started out posing with a pillow at the edge of my wider sofa bed. I don't have any fresh looking white sheets or pillow-cases, so a freshly calm, medium dark, cool blue colour just had to fucking do. I mostly posed lying on my side, lying on stomach and lying on my back, trying to smile seductively and not look too tired. Tried to take some of me sitting up as well but the angles and zoom would not have it, so I gave up on that for today. Since I had to get back up from the bed to look on the camera between every photo, and re-position the camera and re-fix the settings obnoxiously much, it took for fucking ever to just get 10 decent pictures and around 5-10 crappy ones. And by crappy I mean over-exposed, angles that made me look like a total sack of potatoes, test pics, pics with either my head or my crotch cut out at the edge, and pics with really bad orangey colours cause of wrong filter. Those I deleted from the camera right away when I was done, so I wouldn't be confused about that when I return to that project next time.

Just to be clear, I don't mean that I think I actually look like a sack of potatoes. The pictures I did keep look real damn good, at least from what I could see on that tiny screen. Especially one in which I'm lying on my stomach with one hand to my face and look at the camera to the side. I look fucking gorgeous and sexy and the light is just so nice on my pale skin without being over-exposed. And another one in which I'm lying on my back with one hand on my chest and the other slightly spreading my pussy and I look so comfortably horny and inviting for a gooood time. I'd fuck me in those photos! So, there's no issue with my self-esteem, but there certainly is something lacking in my photography skills, and making the pics look good really has nothing to do with what I think of my actual looks. Cause I can look like a gorgeously handsome god in one pic, but like Yabba de Hut in another.

My mother conveniently called when I was still strutting around butt naked trying to fix camera settings and go blow my nose. So, I kept walking around naked in my entire apartment while talking to her on the phone. I'm glad it's finally warm enough to do that, these days. I've no idea if people walking on the street outside my living room window can see what's going in my living room or not. I'm on the second floor but the window is really big. I mean... I don't give a fuck, but people have been reported for "indecent exposure" for less. Well ain't that a risk I'm just gonna have to take, huh? Cause I kinda need some damn sunlight in my nudes, cause I ain't got no damn decent lamps and I need it to at least almost appear professional looking. But who am I kidding, right? I'll likely still look like a skank in a messy living room. But at least I'm trying to look professional. I'm a beginner at this with no damn money to spend on super high-tech equipment and I really can't think of anyone who'd freely (or for pay) be fine with being a camera-man for my fully naked, slutty pictures in which I might be masturbating, so please cut me some slack, okay?

No, I certainly didn't get enough pictures, but it's a start. One problem though, is that I need to take some upright pics as well, but as far as I can tell, I can't put the camera in vertical position on that tripod. Only horizontally. I'll take a closer look at that tripod and see if I can make that possible somehow. Cause fucking hell the instructions for that thing are practically useless and I've gotten way further figuring things out with just my creativity and sheer dumb luck.

I can't decide if I should buy some kind of harness for strap-on’s or not. Well I want to and I also don't. The thought of me saying "yes" to any possible client wanting me to penetrate them gives me the most nervous boner ever... Like fucking hell I wouldn't even know how to! I may be somewhat experienced in bed by now, but on that particular point, I'm completely clueless. I don't think I even know how to attach a dildo to a strap-on harness, let alone using it on someone else. And yeah, anal is also damn tricky, but at least I know how to prepare my own ass for a fuck. And cis guy asses are not that different from trans guy asses, except from that actually quite exciting thing about a prostate. To stimulate, of course. I can't help but admit I've been fantasising about that... But would I even like fucking another guy's ass? I have no freaking idea. I'm not sure how much actual pleasure I could get from it, you know. But then I'm also extremely aware of that pleasure happens just as much in the mind as it does in the body, so there's some potential however low or high with that.

Even though my "dick" wouldn't be real in that scenario, although I've thought of maybe possibly spending some extra cash to get a hyper-realistic one, like a prosthetic for trans men, then. Cause it would feel nice if I'd have a strap-on that literally looks like it's part of me. Cause yeah, I've seen some real nice such ones online. Like really hyper-realistic ones that seriously look like the real thing to the point of fooling people (not that I would though), that can be glued on.

But then they also cost quite a bit. Count on at least a couple of thousand kronor. So maybe for later. I can't quite piss off that much money in one go right now, also with shipping from the US and added extra fees like customs and what not. Especially if I don't even know if it would be something I'd enjoy. So, I'll probably start with simpler, more common types of strap-on’s, that rather cost a few hundred kronor and can be bought from Swedish websites. If you wonder if there even are any cis guys who'd be into me fucking them with a strap-on? Two words: you bet.

Yeah, they're not that many, but they most certainly exist and I've come across a few. Some vers bi guys who want to both give and receive penetration. And yes, I think I can get to have a good time also with paying customers, even though that will of course slump down to second or third priority. As their pleasure and comfort will be my first priority. But I can have more than just one priority and somehow I think quite many guys would actually quite highly appreciate it if their whore is having a good time with them too. It's very easy for me to feel pleasure in sexual situations, practically regardless of who with or what we do, but it's very hard for me to cum when together with another person. My sex drive is so sky high that I only need to think about sex, or be naked, or be given the slightest sexually implying touch even by my own hand, or even just being desired by anyone at all, to get really really turned on and keep it that way. So I say pffft.

It took a while to get used to living with that kind of extremely sensitive, high sex drive, 24/7 fulltime. As you can probably imagine. Just sitting in a car feels like sitting in a giant vibrator sometimes to the point of actually orgasming without doing anything, right next to my (hopefully) unknowing family members. Although it's rare, it actually has happened. And I had to get used to eating food while being very turned on and unable to stop thinking about sex, which was hard for me cause I think food is one of the biggest turn-off's ever and sex is the biggest appetite-killer ever. And getting used to that horniness almost always returns right away after climactic orgasm when it's impossible to keep going comfortably.

It took some damn getting used to being horny and trying to distract away thoughts about sex in literally any given situation no matter what, with whom, how or when. And getting used to automatically fantasising about having sex with practically every new person I ever meet (like doctors, nurses, cashiers, neighbours, various staff of various instances, etc) and most strangers I just happen to pass by on a street. My sex drive/addiction is almost a handicap at this point. But I'm okay with it now, for the most part. But I need to fuck the living shit out of it, before I burst. Did you know that boners, even if you have the female variety of equipment, do get painful if too intense for too long, cause it feels like your junk is gonna explode from the blood pressure? Well they do.

But also, whether I'd be totally into penetrating other guys or more "meh" about it, as long as it's not a turn-off and I can at least seem totally into it, I think I should at least be open to having that as an option for clients to choose from that menu if they so want to. But the thing is if I do put it on the menu I also have to deliver if I get that specific thing ordered, if you know what I mean. I'll sell services, pretty much in the same way a restaurant sells meals, although with a bit more leeway to say no if I don't think I can do it, but I should not offer services that I never even intend to deliver. Like, if I for example put up receiving anal penetration on the list of available services, then yeah of fucking course I can say "not available" about that specific service on a day my stomach is extra cranky or I was just ripped apart by some previous client and the ass needs a fucking rest to function.

But then I should consider saying "yes, doable" maybe next week when things are peachier in that area. Like I should be able to do it if I'm able to do it, and therefore, I should probably not add things I'm not really into or am very uncertain about. At least not for starters. I can always expand that list later on, if I so wish to. And I've already got a huge fucking list of various things I'd be perfectly fine with providing, so it's not like I need to squeeze in stuff I feel uneasy about just to fill that list, or something. But eh, only providing myself as a total bottom seems really inflexible and I worry it might not give me many clients at all if I don't top... I guess that I have to suck up either one way or the other. Either accept getting fewer clients, or learn to fucking switch. It's just work, right? Just because you don't like sorting the "miscellaneous" pile doesn’t mean you can get away with it by complaining. And maybe sorting it won't be so bad, after all? Who knows what I may find. We'll see what I'll decide for in that particular department...

I have actually considered if it could be possible and/or reasonable to sell my anal virginity, for a bit extra then, cause that really only can happen once. Like if there would be a market for that sort of thing, even. Don't tell me it's sad though, cause it's not, it's fun! I really don't take sex seriously anymore, unless I'm in love. But otherwise it's all just fun and games until someone cums, or falls asleep. And any form of prostitution is like playing strip poker, spin the bottle, or just business, or a combination of all three for me.

Yeah, I'm definitely the type of person who's suck off the boss for a raise, even if he's really ugly and fat and is a total prick. Especially if I'd be drunk at some business party or something. I'd probably over-think it for a few days, but ultimately be fine with it. But now I've never had such a job and I most likely never will. Instead I'll be the guy those bosses hire/rent cause their employees won't put out for a raise. So I guess I might fuck them anyway then. Hmm, sleazy men turn me on a lot... and I might be the only person in history to ever say that and mean it. Oh, dear.

But back to the point about what I want to add to "available services" or not, I just mean I should try to not look like a total scam. But it sure felt good, despite being exhausting, to fix around with that preparing and photographing today. Like it felt liberating somehow, that I'm so close to being all ready set go for prostitution and it just fills me with such... relief. Like I feel more alive, and more awake than I am physically. Like my endorphins are really dancing around inside me. It's like a calm, happy, freeing feeling like breathing fresh summer air by the ocean. Similar to how I tend to feel post-orgasm but less gooey and more alert. Kind of. It's hard to describe cause I don't think I've felt it before. These two or so most recent years and still ongoing, I've felt a lot of new feelings I haven't really felt before. Positive feelings, of comfort, satisfaction, arousal; gentle, soft, warm, enticing, joyful, embracing, exciting, stimulating, awake and soothing feelings that I never even knew existed in me. That I barely knew existed in others. Most of them very subtle and abstract. It's really good to get those feelings, as they seem to almost have replaced all those shades of darkness I was so full of all the years before, that anxiety and death-obsession. That now I have shades of light where they used to be.

It must be the fire burning warm and lively within me. My joy of living. The one I almost thought had gone out completely, revived. It makes me so hopeful about the future, no matter what happens or what I worry about. It's like I got that fire making me never ever want to give up again. And it might seem contra productive or backwards, but for me, pursuing prostitution feels like my first real step on the ladder that's gonna take me to the sky. To real life. To the life I want to live, and yearn for and breathe for! It's my wings. Even if it turns out to not be so fun and more like a chore, if I can at least just do it and keep doing it, and find enough meaning in it to keep it up long term, it's my ticket to my own big enough economy to get the hell out of here and on towards the big city on the main land. My ticket into real adulthood with responsibilities threatening to drown me but that I can't keep slithering away from if I want to reach my dream. I'll learn how to pay my own bills on time, how to clean my damn shower drain without passing out and puking over how gross it is, I'll learn to handle things going wrong in my apartment or at least who to turn to for help when my mother's not just a car ride away anymore.

Cause I've only got the "easy" things under control this far. Like keeping my apartment clean (except from the shower drain, so thanks mom), keeping myself clean and fed and somewhat rested, taking my medication, taking care of my laundry, get the garbage out, cleaning the dirty dishes and not letting things start moulding, grocery shopping, keeping my mood up and finding purpose in life. Okay, that last one most certainly wasn't easy. I had to scramble in the dark for a loooong ass time to find actual purpose in my life. I know I have it somewhere around here now, but I don't know exactly what it is. Whatever it was that sparked that flame within me to burn like it does now, that fuel, is the purpose I found. But what is it?

It's my will to do everything I can possibly do to get off of this fucking island for good, including selling my ass and doing it frequently and long enough to earn a significant amount of money (and wish me luck with that cause it's like 40% taxes in this damn country, I'll almost lose half of what I'll earn, so my ass will almost literally be on fire) that I can stuff the most of into a saving's account on my bank while living on noodles and meatballs, and then spend all those savings on an apartment or a house somewhere in the Stockholm suburbs. But my dream doesn't end there: it starts there. And that's what has me kicking my own figurative nuts like crazy to get me to jump up high enough to get me going somewhere, anywhere, anyhow. As long as I keep moving and don't stop for anything.

But until then, I guess I'll have fun editing my own pussy-pics and then trying to get it fucked by enough guys to make a damn living. I expect it will be harsh in the beginning, I might even ask myself repeatedly "what the fuck am I doing?" without an answer to give, and scramble to get by on less money than I get from my allowance now, making my parents really angry and worried about my choice of job and that I even started a job at all (I'm tired of their over-protective asses, is why I'm not even gonna ask for their "permission" and is why I expect they'll be angry at me), and struggle to understand even how to do it legally with paying taxes and running my own company and how to even label it (I suppose "sexual services" won't go over well with the authorities), and I expect I'll be more scared and stressed than happy and horny when I've just started and get very aware of the real fucking reality of what it's like to be a whore.

But I also think it will get easier with time if I'll just stick with it and give it more than just one chance. Not give up unless there's no other way and I have no other choice and have tried literally everything else; giving up should only be a last resort of a last resort, and I'll shove that notion up my butt if I have to. Here's my promise: I promise I will not give up on prostitution unless there is no other way in any sense and I have exhausted all other options. I'll drag my ass through yet another Hell if I have to. As long as I keep dragging it through, there should be light somewhere on the other side, if I just keep going. This is what I want to do, the only job I've ever truly wanted to have. I'll play my last cards into it if I have to. I'll give it all I've got, and then I'll scramble for more.

Sometimes living in contradictions feels like being in a perpetual motion machine that I'm trying to stop. Cause they're also impossible, you know, and eternity scares me. Maybe I think that if I can't stop the contradictions I can't die, that they make me eternal... immortal. And it makes me so pale to think about, cause it would be the worst of all nightmares. They say immortality is impossible, but so they say about many things I've done and had happen to me. I hope that what they say is true and that I cannot be immortal. I don't know what I would possibly do then. Maybe if I fell asleep drunk in a wood-chipper would be lethal enough, even for an immortal... or God I hope so. I do not want to die now, or anytime soon; I want at least 30 more years on this Earth if I can, or at least until dementia takes my mind. But I do want to die in the sense that I don't want to live forever. I'm so scared of immortality, and it's the most irrational fear ever to have, isn't it? It's like being scared of time travel, or mermaids. It's so irrational and makes no fucking sense cause it's not even real or possible. But it is a fear that I have, nonetheless. Cause my mind makes it real.

It just hit me, but maybe that's why I keep wishing for grey hair and wrinkles. A clear sign of some sort that yes, I am ageing and I'm not gonna live forever. That my body will age and wither like everyone else's. Cause every day I see my ageless face in the mirror that's still stuck on 20-ish, it's like I'm looking at eternity. A digital clock that's stopped ticking but still glows. Like empty space. And wrinkles or grey hairs would be like finding stars. Hope. Relief. Oh yeah, I'm really fucking weird... But that's yet another contradiction, isn't it? That I'm chasing both life and death at the same time hoping to... yeah what am I even hoping for? Control. I want to shorten my lifespan just enough, yet fill the years I allow myself to have with as much life as I possibly can.

Cause I want control over both my life and my death. I'd rather take my own life despite being happy and at peace, than lose all the control I ever could have, forever. Dementia scares me far more than death ever could. I hope I won't get it, but doesn't seem too likely I'll escape that fate. Sometimes I even hope there's nothing more after death. That it just goes black and I cease to exist. It sounds very relaxing and free of pain and fear. And it would save me the trouble of trying to fight God to stop my reincarnation cycle. I'll exhaust the last of my will to exist in this life. Take it all at once, like a really intense last spurt towards the finish line. It's just that for me it might be "the last spurt" but for everyone who knows me, it's the entire race. Cause they missed most of the distance that I've already run. Damn I must really look like an idiot.

The crash course. I'm trying to fit a 200 years long course into a life of barely 70 or so years. That's why I'm always so exhausted. That's why I can't make sense of anything. While others chill or waste time on a boring job and a boring family, I exhaust myself to the point of no return until I'm boiling in my own brain and seek out the shitty experiences that others try to avoid, cause that's where the good juice of knowledge and wisdom is found. And then I kick myself bloody over my horrible choices.

I think prostitution is definitely the type of job that's gonna give me exactly what I need to reach higher peaks of knowledge and wisdom. Cause it's a dirty, shameful, barely legal job with many risks involved. That's exactly what I need to drag my ass through and it feels weird to announce it, but I'm looking forward to that pain. I've become a martyr for my own success. And that, I think, is my actual success.