The gendermorph started twisting its body into a series of free-floating yoga positions eventually segueing into a rhythmic posture that on alternate 360 degree turns looked like a bombshell blond or perfectly-cut model-stud. Sticking a huge index finger up inside its cracked code of endless meaning, the morph bemoaned in a come-on whisper that "I'm not even sure I know what SEX I am, I mean, I feel like a woman who's coming undone, but yet I can imagine my burning psychosphere of semiotic truth spill out a whole Other kind of philosophical orientation, I mean SEXUAL orientation, sometimes I mix those two up...besides, I'm EASILY seduced by the pornosophic brilliance of a raging art-head who just happens to be YOU...I know you dig me Abe, I've got your list of preferences right here in my swollen love-pocket..."