Oblivion: Voss Unger-Spath
By R.Wulfe

She was ugly. So ugly, I had never seen someone that is so hasslich. Yet my heart raced as I saw her. I watched patiently as she made her order at the till, myself gulping my own decaffeinated beverage. My eyes scrutinizing this most ugly form. That wide ass stretching jeans, and how they were ripped around the knees. That rotund girth of her frame, and giant breasts that shivered my mind with shame. She was ugly, echoing in my mind, and yet I couldn't look away and was glad I wasn't here with friends, lest they know how much I wanted to make such a move to introduce myself. 

English wasn't my strongest point at the time, and 'ugly' was such a beautiful word that by the time I got into the city, I was barely fluent in any European Language. Life of an immigrant right? But Ugly was one of the most frequent terms to describe women that had this ecstatic quality against my brittle heart. I never planned to evoke it as a compliment prefiguring instead to keep the ugliness all into my own private language. But how I'd love to strut into her private quarters and have my beak between her titan thighs. The longing was ugly in itself. Her short white feathers, more pure in hue than mine, as expected of doves and that red stain on her ample cleavage. I had never seen a bleeding heart dove before, nor of a woman that size. The room began to spin as I was caught breathless, a situation not too uncommon due to my frequent bouts of Stendhal's Syndrome. She was uglier than Venus and Aphrodite, more ugly than the leaning tower of Pisa and I feared my Peafowl cock wasn't ugly enough for her. Actually, as a Peacock I didn't even have one. I still don't.

It wasn't yet a secret nor had I given much thought over my lack of equipment. I was in the middle of transition and past partners who moved onto other nests for reasons I shall keep private, I usually always came strapped and very eager.  My Breasts removed and my body I worked under such duress to make myself look as masculine and muscled as much as my runt stature would permit. I wanted to be ugly enough to please her but not wanting to assume she'd be interested. A Cold shiver run down my neck and spine as the Barrista; that horrible Vixen I know as Fiona Slaine poured water down my shirt's collar. Telling me I looked as if I was being baked alive by heatstroke. I took her aside and explained this fettered longing for the Dove sitting at the table front of my own, and with that smirk of hers grating on me. She struck up my hearts desire in conversation, brittle as it was even Fiona talking to her was boiling my love muscle with envy. I quietly sipped and attempted to ignore her ploy to create competition between us, I know I couldn't make anyone desire me more than Fiona in any contest. The wicked Vixen despite her clumsy behaviour and stark arrogance had a charming appeal but she wasn't ugly to me. Not as a person at least, nor would I feel validated being with her. Knowing she only kept female company in close quarters. 

My eyes darted up and to see they were both looking back at me, as I had assumed they were gossiping. The edges of my beak twinged into an uneven grin, Fiona my saviour had gotten the Dove's attention in me. Once introduced, We talked and talked for hours on end, and by the very end of the shift we had gone through sandwiches, forty different topics, two waltzes during an open mic event and a single kiss. My life was on slow motion that day, that we had made plans the following week. Everything was wonderful. She was at mine, and I was at hers. We baked cakes, watched the sunrises, I was truly hers but all for a short time. As things were getting hotter and heavier for us, one night I was going over my notes for a ESL class I was struggling with, reaching for a dictionary I dropped it and forgotten all about my assignment. I turned to the door frame, and the Dove in this sleekest dress that clung to her figure had my attention. My Knees grew weak, my throat  ran dry and body ached as the visage of her appeared. It was this red strapped dress, multiple buckles on a red faux leather corset, matching lattice stockings with heart shaped holes with that gap to expose her talons. I was possessed, I was enchanted, I was in her warm embrace and guided to the bed with a riding crop whacking my butt as she drove me faster if I paused to get another glimpse. Her foot on my back, as I tilted my head up to stare at my goddess. I still feel the pain in my gut from that night and other injuries as you can see. My body was strained and tested to the limit to give her the satisfaction, thankful that my beak didn't dislocate when she sat down, nor any of my strapping boy-toys broke, however as you did ask about my eye. I forgot one thing I told myself at the start that I would keep ugly to myself, in a heat of passion it spilled out and as she was large, in charge and on top of me. It wasn't the word of love I thought it would be. Her fist came down as I wheezed the last syllable. That bombshell at knocked so much loathing within me for failing to express how much I truly loved her, and why I've always been more studious with language than I ever had been. I can't recall her name, as when explained afterwards she felt embarrassed and more sympathetic when reminded I'm not indigenous. Ugly was a beautiful word to me, and Beauty ugly. What a Language when I say it out loud. If you flick through my notebook you'll find the poems and doodles I did to express my love and... No, Don't look at that... Right, fuck it that's confidential! Stop! I'm not a pervert! That's not porn! No! Please, we're in Public! Give it back! I didn't draw that. I'm leaving. Goodbye, Asshole. Hope you choke on that latte.