Viscerally, obsessively fearful of the transsexual body.
Her taste is the sick sweetness of rot and fermentation, contagion carried on spores and between lips. Her breasts are diseased mutation, parasitic growth, predatory biology–and perfectly erotic. A form which is divine but demiurgic; perniciously, irresistibly seductive in its base materiality. There is nothing more desirable, and there is nothing more evil. There’s nothing you will ever want to fuck more than Her.