Jon Ureña's Blog, page 56
August 19, 2021
Festerbump's Fantasy Village, Pt. 2 (Fiction)
Link for this part on my personal page, where it looks better
---
Like most nights, I lie awake as I stare into the dark. I can't breathe properly, something is squeezing the inside of my chest. I've wasted the last few hours turning over in bed because I can't switch off my brain. I need to get at least a couple hours of sleep, because I'll spend the first half of tomorrow programming the latest gadget for a client's website. I can see myself hunched over my desk, programming away to meet the deadline, the entire time wishing I were sleeping instead. Even the crazier dreams make sense to my subconscious, while waking up makes less and less sense every day.
My thoughts continue churning. If only I could reach out, grab hold of something solid. A rope ladder that leads upwards. A staircase that leads downwards. Anything that doesn't disappear under my feet whenever I put my weight on it. Or maybe something to lean on, that would support my tired heart.
The whole night passes in a feverish blur. When the alarm blares, I can't tell if I have slept at all. I can hear cars passing by on the road below. I sit up in what I call my bed, which is just a mattress and a blanket, and I rub my eyes for a while as I gather the strength to stand up.
I prepare a warm cup of coffee and I sit in front of my desk. I've received new emails from a few clients who want updates, but I haven't managed to reply to other clients who wrote to me days ago. They wait to hear from someone who's barely here anymore.
After some long hours of typing, I've had enough for today. I make myself a grilled cheese sandwhich for lunch. I face that I will need to go out and buy stuff to fill my almost empty fridge; it may be around a week and a half since I bought groceries. I take a shower, mostly to clear my head. After I dress myself with jeans and a shirt, I grab my old-fashioned leather jacket, my oversized black woollen beanie, and my favorite heavy boots. Once I walk down the stairs, I realize I've left my apartment without the obligatory mask. I turn back and grab one from the coat rack.
It's dark outside, as if the sun was already setting, because the clouds hover low, threatening rain. The air is damp and chilly. On my way to the supermarket, I pass in front of the occupied outside tables of bars, mostly frequented by strange people whose languages I don't understand. Everybody speaks so loud. I want to shove my index fingers into my ear canals.
I hadn't worn a mask for a while. I'm breathing lukewarm air mostly made of carbon dioxide, and every time I exhale, air escapes through the gaps between the mask and my nose, blowing particles into my eyes. I feel sick to my stomach, and every step is an effort.
As soon as I enter the supermarket, a staff member checks my temperature, then lets me pass. I feel a sudden wave of exhaustion. It's so hard to ignore the constant noise of the shoppers, and the brightness of the fluorescent lamps, and the smell of the food stalls, and the background music, and the sound of the cash registers. My head is bothering me, my skin itches.
All the customers are wearing masks, and most are dressed in warm clothes. They stand at a safe distance from each other while they check out the goods. I try to avoid meeting anyone's gaze, afraid of being infected with whatever virus they are carrying, or with their humanity.
I spot someone familiar out of the corner of my eye. For a split second I recognize Sue, who wears a coat and a scarf, and holds a shopping basket while she reads the back of a cereal box. But she's just a middle-aged woman with long, dark blonde hair and above average breasts. She looks like a mother.
Sue. What a stupid name for an elf. Other players complained about the lists of names from which the generators make their choices when creating new NPCs. There must be mods out there to expand or improve those lists, but I haven't bothered to search for them. Besides, the game just updated, so those modded lists may not work with the current build.
I'm already infatuated with that elf; she's as perfectly hot as only a virtual person can be, she admires me because I'm powerful, and she belongs to a world where I'd rather live instead. I can hardly wait to return home and lose myself in the virtual realm, where I may forget, even if just for a few minutes, that my real body lies on a lounge chair located in a world that's crumbling at an exponential pace.
My head hurts. A dull ache, like a hangover. I'm waiting in queue to finally leave with my groceries. I smell stale sweat. The noise level is unbearable, especially when the store assistants try to communicate in loud voices. I'm nervous, tense, as if I were standing close to wild animals and waiting for them to attack me.
As I hold my three shopping bags filled with groceries that may last a couple of weeks, I hurry out of the building. I'm feeling increasingly ill. While I head straight towards my apartment building, my vision is blurred, my mind feels foggy. A feeling of unreality lingers in me, as it has for long. I feel as if I could punch a wall only for my fist to pass through the molecules of the paint and the bricks; it would make sense if this entire world was a scenario built to fuck with me, given how every aspect of it assaults either my senses or my mind.
I just notice that a rancid reggaeton song is increasing in volume and approaching me from behind when the source brushes me by: it was a couple of teenagers on a bicycle, who are zigzagging through pedestrians as if racing at an obstacle course. At least I'm not the only pedestrian who stops and glares at the couple of shitheads, who know that riding a bike on the pavement is illegal, but that even if police officers were to spot them, they wouldn't bother telling them off.
When I finally reach my apartment, my right hand trembles as I unlock the front door. I shut it behind me. I take my mask off and throw it on the console table. I wish I never had to leave the safety and sanity of my apartment. How does anyone tolerate spending time around human beings?
Once I've undressed myself down to my underwear, I set my purchases on the kitchen table. I unpack the groceries and put them away either in the few cupboards or the fridge. I'm itching to lie on the lounge chair to lose myself in virtual reality, but I'm also hungry. I pull out a couple of tins of tuna and eat straight from the container. I wash it down with water.
A few minutes later, I've done all I needed to give up being human for a couple of hours. I lie back comfortably on my lounge chair, I put the VR helmet on my head and I adjust it. When I exhale, the accumulated anxiety that had been squeezing the insides of my chest leaves through my nostrils. My mind is now calm, clear, almost lucid. My heart is pumping fresh blood into every part of my body.
* * *
I've returned to the clearing surrounded by a temperate forest, and I'm floating weightless. The hands of my avatar are as transparent as a jellyfish, but my whole body remains invisible for the three people I left sleeping on the grass. I fly down to observe the young woman lying in front of me. Sue is curled into a ball with her hands covering her face. Every last one of her dark gold hairs is perfectly placed.
As pleasant as the scene feels, I won't wait around for hours until my three villagers wake up, so I accelerate time. The villagers stir frantically in slumber. Kurtz, the dwarf, snores loudly, while Joseph tosses fitfully, turning every now and then as if enduring a bad dream.
The sun hasn't risen yet, though the day is starting to turn blue. A cool breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the smell of dew and pine needles. The birds are chirping happily in their nests. Now that the villagers are mostly silent, I hear that water trickles somewhere nearby. Everything is vibrantly alive. I'm overwhelmed by an urge to explore and learn more.
This clearing and the surrounding forest will be home soon enough, both for the villagers and for me. Life will begin anew. We'll grow food together, we'll hunt animals for meat and fur, we'll make baskets and wickerware. We'll live together in harmony. And in time we will forget how miserable we really are.
Sue's hair is spread out around her face, and her breathing sounds like a gentle sigh. Her eyes appear closed, but they are merely covered by her eyelashes. Her lips are slightly parted, revealing the tip of her tongue, and a strand of saliva is dripping onto her chin. Her arms and legs rest motionlessly next to her torso, giving the impression of an angel statue come to life. I wonder how her skin would feel like beneath my fingertips.
When the three villagers finally wake up, though, they're hungry, tired and irritable. Kurtz stretches his back carefully while grimacing, as if it hurts.
"So, where does your god go every morning? To worship himself?"
He laughs at his own joke. I'm not sure whether he has a sense of humour or simply likes to provoke me.
Joseph scratches his stubble. The sun shines bright upon the dew-covered grass.
"I doubt that a god needs to sleep."
"He's also your god for now, Kurtz," Sue says. "But I sure hope he appears... I don't want to spend a whole day here without any direction."
Kurtz shakes his head. He looks down at his boots, which are caked in mud and dirt.
"I guess the only thing a dwarf can do is obey god, and then ask for forgiveness when he makes a mistake."
"Try to avoid making mistakes to begin with," I say with my booming voice.
The three are startled and turn sharply towards the source, although I'm invisible for them. The dwarf frowns, but Sue seems relieved.
"Did you three sleep well in this idyllic clearing?" I ask.
"I did, yes," Joseph replies.
"I had such pleasant dreams," Kurtz starts resentfully, "knowing I have been kidnapped into slavery."
"What slave master are you talking about?" I ask.
"You! Damn invisible wizard!"
"That's ridiculous. There's no slavery involved."
"Don't play dumb, magical fart! You stole us away from our people! From our stores! You think this place is heaven?!"
"It is a beautiful forest," I say.
Joseph is quiet, gazing intently into space, and the lack of support bothers the dwarf.
"What is it with you, human?" Kurtz asks to Joseph, and taps his arm with the back of the hand. "Don't you care that this god has snatched you away from home?"
"I haven't had anything resembling a home for years," Joseph answers calmly. "This is a nice break for me. I feel quite free here."
Kurtz snorts, and shakes his head.
"Free? Free to what? Go and commit suicide? Join the army of orcs? Wander around the forest and get eaten by wild animals? I guess some people are made for servitude!"
"If not a godling, a baron or a count. At least a god, even a local one, has genuine powers."
"There's nothing noble about serving another person. Serving is just submission."
Sue lets out a noise of disbelief.
"I guess you are single, Kurtz."
The dwarf's face turns red.
"W-why would you say that?!"
"I can tell you don't like to share. Serving others means helping other people achieve happiness, isn't it?"
"Sue is right, Kurtz," I say. "We're all equals here. We'll help each other out and work together for the common good of our community. That is a sort of mutual service. Right, Sue?"
"Equal?" Kurtz mutters. "To a minor god?"
"Bottom line, Kurtz, if you are unhappy, you should just quit. Don't want to live in this beautiful forest? Then leave."
The dwarf grunts, and rubs the side of his nose.
"Yeah, right! Just walk off into the woods alone? Without money? With nothing except the clothes on my back?"
"So it's in your best interest to cooperate."
The dwarf's anger disappears, replaced with sadness.
"I don't have any choice. I can tell that you are a prick, godling. The kind of minor god I wouldn't approach willingly. But now I'll only get to leave when you allow me to."
I sigh.
"Good enough for me. Any other objections?"
Joseph stares at the forest as if he's devising a plan of action.
"We can't afford to waste any more energy. We have work to get started on."
"You can't see me smiling, Joseph," I say, "but you are a breath of fresh air. How about you, little elf lady?"
Sue looks down shyly. Her golden hair falls onto her eyes and she tucks it behind an ear. She smiles sweetly and shrugs.
"Sure thing. It feels good to be useful."
Once again I regret that the developers of this game have refused to add the ability for the players to interact physically with the villagers, because I want this elf so fucking bad. All I can do is fantasize about her naked body, and once I log off I can masturbate furiously.
Kurtz stops rubbing his eyes, then speaks in a dejected tone.
"Have you three forgotten that we lack any food, that the deer carcass has spoiled? How are we going to work on an empty stomach?"
"That's true..." Sue says. "Godling, you couldn't conjure a barrel full of grain by any chance, right?"
I suck air through my teeth. To be fair, any decent player would prepare a list of provisions carefully before embarking on a new playthrough, and those provisions would have fed my villagers for at least a couple of weeks. But I was so depressed that I couldn't be bothered. Poor bastards.
"I made sure to pick a forest with plentiful berries. And whenever we locate the nearby stream, we'll have clean water that you won't need to boil."
"It's not exactly the same as finding a big bag of rice," Kurtz grumbles. "But I guess there are worse ways to fill up our bellies."
"Alright," Joseph says as he bends down to pick up the bow and arrow. "What direction should be follow to find the stream?"
"I don't remember," I admit, embarrassed.
"You don't remember?" Joseph repeats, unsure if he's heard me right.
"I'm a minor god, not the God, if there's any in this universe. I forget things. Just explore the forest for a while. You'll come across water, I'm sure."
Sue points at the knife lying on the ground. The blade is stained with dried blood.
"Who's handling that?"
The dwarf grunts and picks it up gingerly.
"I guess it belongs to Kurtz now," Kurtz says.
"Just don't kill any of your new friends with it," I say.
He rolls his eyes, and looks at the human and the elf as if to reassure them.
---
Like most nights, I lie awake as I stare into the dark. I can't breathe properly, something is squeezing the inside of my chest. I've wasted the last few hours turning over in bed because I can't switch off my brain. I need to get at least a couple hours of sleep, because I'll spend the first half of tomorrow programming the latest gadget for a client's website. I can see myself hunched over my desk, programming away to meet the deadline, the entire time wishing I were sleeping instead. Even the crazier dreams make sense to my subconscious, while waking up makes less and less sense every day.
My thoughts continue churning. If only I could reach out, grab hold of something solid. A rope ladder that leads upwards. A staircase that leads downwards. Anything that doesn't disappear under my feet whenever I put my weight on it. Or maybe something to lean on, that would support my tired heart.
The whole night passes in a feverish blur. When the alarm blares, I can't tell if I have slept at all. I can hear cars passing by on the road below. I sit up in what I call my bed, which is just a mattress and a blanket, and I rub my eyes for a while as I gather the strength to stand up.
I prepare a warm cup of coffee and I sit in front of my desk. I've received new emails from a few clients who want updates, but I haven't managed to reply to other clients who wrote to me days ago. They wait to hear from someone who's barely here anymore.
After some long hours of typing, I've had enough for today. I make myself a grilled cheese sandwhich for lunch. I face that I will need to go out and buy stuff to fill my almost empty fridge; it may be around a week and a half since I bought groceries. I take a shower, mostly to clear my head. After I dress myself with jeans and a shirt, I grab my old-fashioned leather jacket, my oversized black woollen beanie, and my favorite heavy boots. Once I walk down the stairs, I realize I've left my apartment without the obligatory mask. I turn back and grab one from the coat rack.
It's dark outside, as if the sun was already setting, because the clouds hover low, threatening rain. The air is damp and chilly. On my way to the supermarket, I pass in front of the occupied outside tables of bars, mostly frequented by strange people whose languages I don't understand. Everybody speaks so loud. I want to shove my index fingers into my ear canals.
I hadn't worn a mask for a while. I'm breathing lukewarm air mostly made of carbon dioxide, and every time I exhale, air escapes through the gaps between the mask and my nose, blowing particles into my eyes. I feel sick to my stomach, and every step is an effort.
As soon as I enter the supermarket, a staff member checks my temperature, then lets me pass. I feel a sudden wave of exhaustion. It's so hard to ignore the constant noise of the shoppers, and the brightness of the fluorescent lamps, and the smell of the food stalls, and the background music, and the sound of the cash registers. My head is bothering me, my skin itches.
All the customers are wearing masks, and most are dressed in warm clothes. They stand at a safe distance from each other while they check out the goods. I try to avoid meeting anyone's gaze, afraid of being infected with whatever virus they are carrying, or with their humanity.
I spot someone familiar out of the corner of my eye. For a split second I recognize Sue, who wears a coat and a scarf, and holds a shopping basket while she reads the back of a cereal box. But she's just a middle-aged woman with long, dark blonde hair and above average breasts. She looks like a mother.
Sue. What a stupid name for an elf. Other players complained about the lists of names from which the generators make their choices when creating new NPCs. There must be mods out there to expand or improve those lists, but I haven't bothered to search for them. Besides, the game just updated, so those modded lists may not work with the current build.
I'm already infatuated with that elf; she's as perfectly hot as only a virtual person can be, she admires me because I'm powerful, and she belongs to a world where I'd rather live instead. I can hardly wait to return home and lose myself in the virtual realm, where I may forget, even if just for a few minutes, that my real body lies on a lounge chair located in a world that's crumbling at an exponential pace.
My head hurts. A dull ache, like a hangover. I'm waiting in queue to finally leave with my groceries. I smell stale sweat. The noise level is unbearable, especially when the store assistants try to communicate in loud voices. I'm nervous, tense, as if I were standing close to wild animals and waiting for them to attack me.
As I hold my three shopping bags filled with groceries that may last a couple of weeks, I hurry out of the building. I'm feeling increasingly ill. While I head straight towards my apartment building, my vision is blurred, my mind feels foggy. A feeling of unreality lingers in me, as it has for long. I feel as if I could punch a wall only for my fist to pass through the molecules of the paint and the bricks; it would make sense if this entire world was a scenario built to fuck with me, given how every aspect of it assaults either my senses or my mind.
I just notice that a rancid reggaeton song is increasing in volume and approaching me from behind when the source brushes me by: it was a couple of teenagers on a bicycle, who are zigzagging through pedestrians as if racing at an obstacle course. At least I'm not the only pedestrian who stops and glares at the couple of shitheads, who know that riding a bike on the pavement is illegal, but that even if police officers were to spot them, they wouldn't bother telling them off.
When I finally reach my apartment, my right hand trembles as I unlock the front door. I shut it behind me. I take my mask off and throw it on the console table. I wish I never had to leave the safety and sanity of my apartment. How does anyone tolerate spending time around human beings?
Once I've undressed myself down to my underwear, I set my purchases on the kitchen table. I unpack the groceries and put them away either in the few cupboards or the fridge. I'm itching to lie on the lounge chair to lose myself in virtual reality, but I'm also hungry. I pull out a couple of tins of tuna and eat straight from the container. I wash it down with water.
A few minutes later, I've done all I needed to give up being human for a couple of hours. I lie back comfortably on my lounge chair, I put the VR helmet on my head and I adjust it. When I exhale, the accumulated anxiety that had been squeezing the insides of my chest leaves through my nostrils. My mind is now calm, clear, almost lucid. My heart is pumping fresh blood into every part of my body.
* * *
I've returned to the clearing surrounded by a temperate forest, and I'm floating weightless. The hands of my avatar are as transparent as a jellyfish, but my whole body remains invisible for the three people I left sleeping on the grass. I fly down to observe the young woman lying in front of me. Sue is curled into a ball with her hands covering her face. Every last one of her dark gold hairs is perfectly placed.
As pleasant as the scene feels, I won't wait around for hours until my three villagers wake up, so I accelerate time. The villagers stir frantically in slumber. Kurtz, the dwarf, snores loudly, while Joseph tosses fitfully, turning every now and then as if enduring a bad dream.
The sun hasn't risen yet, though the day is starting to turn blue. A cool breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the smell of dew and pine needles. The birds are chirping happily in their nests. Now that the villagers are mostly silent, I hear that water trickles somewhere nearby. Everything is vibrantly alive. I'm overwhelmed by an urge to explore and learn more.
This clearing and the surrounding forest will be home soon enough, both for the villagers and for me. Life will begin anew. We'll grow food together, we'll hunt animals for meat and fur, we'll make baskets and wickerware. We'll live together in harmony. And in time we will forget how miserable we really are.
Sue's hair is spread out around her face, and her breathing sounds like a gentle sigh. Her eyes appear closed, but they are merely covered by her eyelashes. Her lips are slightly parted, revealing the tip of her tongue, and a strand of saliva is dripping onto her chin. Her arms and legs rest motionlessly next to her torso, giving the impression of an angel statue come to life. I wonder how her skin would feel like beneath my fingertips.
When the three villagers finally wake up, though, they're hungry, tired and irritable. Kurtz stretches his back carefully while grimacing, as if it hurts.
"So, where does your god go every morning? To worship himself?"
He laughs at his own joke. I'm not sure whether he has a sense of humour or simply likes to provoke me.
Joseph scratches his stubble. The sun shines bright upon the dew-covered grass.
"I doubt that a god needs to sleep."
"He's also your god for now, Kurtz," Sue says. "But I sure hope he appears... I don't want to spend a whole day here without any direction."
Kurtz shakes his head. He looks down at his boots, which are caked in mud and dirt.
"I guess the only thing a dwarf can do is obey god, and then ask for forgiveness when he makes a mistake."
"Try to avoid making mistakes to begin with," I say with my booming voice.
The three are startled and turn sharply towards the source, although I'm invisible for them. The dwarf frowns, but Sue seems relieved.
"Did you three sleep well in this idyllic clearing?" I ask.
"I did, yes," Joseph replies.
"I had such pleasant dreams," Kurtz starts resentfully, "knowing I have been kidnapped into slavery."
"What slave master are you talking about?" I ask.
"You! Damn invisible wizard!"
"That's ridiculous. There's no slavery involved."
"Don't play dumb, magical fart! You stole us away from our people! From our stores! You think this place is heaven?!"
"It is a beautiful forest," I say.
Joseph is quiet, gazing intently into space, and the lack of support bothers the dwarf.
"What is it with you, human?" Kurtz asks to Joseph, and taps his arm with the back of the hand. "Don't you care that this god has snatched you away from home?"
"I haven't had anything resembling a home for years," Joseph answers calmly. "This is a nice break for me. I feel quite free here."
Kurtz snorts, and shakes his head.
"Free? Free to what? Go and commit suicide? Join the army of orcs? Wander around the forest and get eaten by wild animals? I guess some people are made for servitude!"
"If not a godling, a baron or a count. At least a god, even a local one, has genuine powers."
"There's nothing noble about serving another person. Serving is just submission."
Sue lets out a noise of disbelief.
"I guess you are single, Kurtz."
The dwarf's face turns red.
"W-why would you say that?!"
"I can tell you don't like to share. Serving others means helping other people achieve happiness, isn't it?"
"Sue is right, Kurtz," I say. "We're all equals here. We'll help each other out and work together for the common good of our community. That is a sort of mutual service. Right, Sue?"
"Equal?" Kurtz mutters. "To a minor god?"
"Bottom line, Kurtz, if you are unhappy, you should just quit. Don't want to live in this beautiful forest? Then leave."
The dwarf grunts, and rubs the side of his nose.
"Yeah, right! Just walk off into the woods alone? Without money? With nothing except the clothes on my back?"
"So it's in your best interest to cooperate."
The dwarf's anger disappears, replaced with sadness.
"I don't have any choice. I can tell that you are a prick, godling. The kind of minor god I wouldn't approach willingly. But now I'll only get to leave when you allow me to."
I sigh.
"Good enough for me. Any other objections?"
Joseph stares at the forest as if he's devising a plan of action.
"We can't afford to waste any more energy. We have work to get started on."
"You can't see me smiling, Joseph," I say, "but you are a breath of fresh air. How about you, little elf lady?"
Sue looks down shyly. Her golden hair falls onto her eyes and she tucks it behind an ear. She smiles sweetly and shrugs.
"Sure thing. It feels good to be useful."
Once again I regret that the developers of this game have refused to add the ability for the players to interact physically with the villagers, because I want this elf so fucking bad. All I can do is fantasize about her naked body, and once I log off I can masturbate furiously.
Kurtz stops rubbing his eyes, then speaks in a dejected tone.
"Have you three forgotten that we lack any food, that the deer carcass has spoiled? How are we going to work on an empty stomach?"
"That's true..." Sue says. "Godling, you couldn't conjure a barrel full of grain by any chance, right?"
I suck air through my teeth. To be fair, any decent player would prepare a list of provisions carefully before embarking on a new playthrough, and those provisions would have fed my villagers for at least a couple of weeks. But I was so depressed that I couldn't be bothered. Poor bastards.
"I made sure to pick a forest with plentiful berries. And whenever we locate the nearby stream, we'll have clean water that you won't need to boil."
"It's not exactly the same as finding a big bag of rice," Kurtz grumbles. "But I guess there are worse ways to fill up our bellies."
"Alright," Joseph says as he bends down to pick up the bow and arrow. "What direction should be follow to find the stream?"
"I don't remember," I admit, embarrassed.
"You don't remember?" Joseph repeats, unsure if he's heard me right.
"I'm a minor god, not the God, if there's any in this universe. I forget things. Just explore the forest for a while. You'll come across water, I'm sure."
Sue points at the knife lying on the ground. The blade is stained with dried blood.
"Who's handling that?"
The dwarf grunts and picks it up gingerly.
"I guess it belongs to Kurtz now," Kurtz says.
"Just don't kill any of your new friends with it," I say.
He rolls his eyes, and looks at the human and the elf as if to reassure them.
August 17, 2021
Festerbump's Fantasy Village, Pt. 1 (Fiction)
Link for this short story on my personal page, where it looks better
---
My mind is fogged up again, my eyesight has started to go funny. The world is turning a dull, flat grey. My old pal depression is paying me a visit.
I'm so tired all the time now. My head feels heavy and leaden. Whenever I try to force myself to leave my cramped apartment to take a walk, I wonder what's the point. There's nothing for me in those streets. No friends left behind to greet. All gone, or just never there at all.
I have the means to escape, the old tried method: I take a pee and a shit, I undress myself down to my boxers, and I lie down on my VR chair. Then I strap my brain into place and load up the virtual hub.
I've been trying this recent game, an advanced clone of the old 'Dwarf Fortress': the player is a godling that oversees the development of a fantasy village. The sentient AI characters are the stars, for as long as the player can stand to witness their beloved villagers suffering.
It takes some skill and imagination to build a medieval village that doesn't make you want to pull your hair out. It's complicated to get the right balance between resources and population density and infrastructure and housing stock. You need to plan carefully, arrange everything like a clockwork mechanism, and then keep an eye on things as they happen, so that you can respond if something goes wrong. I'm barely getting the hang of the game.
I start from zero, in a generated world. Temperate forests are newbie territory, but the depression hinders my ability to focus, and I'm using this game to distract myself. I choose a wide clearing surrounded by a forest. The trees are full of little green leaves, the grass is bright yellow and lush. It smells fresh here, clean and sweet.
I generate my starter three AI villagers. The RNG gods provide a nice combination of personalities: a human farmer (Joseph) who hates his life; an elf girl (Sue) with big breasts; and a dwarf merchant (Kurtz), who thinks he owns everything.
The villagers stand around confused, while my avatar, invisible to them, hovers over the scene.
"How did we end up here?" Joseph asks.
The dwarf, Kurtz, narrows his eyes in suspicion.
"Dunno. Maybe you're the one that got us into this situation," he grunts.
Joseph rubs his temples.
"I think we were all wandering around in the woods when suddenly we found ourselves here."
Sue is looking around frantically. Her hair reaches down to her waist, and is a pretty dark gold. I can tell I will spend plenty of this playthrough ogling this virtual creature. If she survives.
"My sister is home alone!" Sue says in a high-pitched voice. "I need to get back!"
I speak to them with my stentorious voice, "Listen to me, villagers! I'm your god now, and I have brought you here to this forest so you three would establish a new village. This is an adventure that will test your abilities."
They all stare blankly in my general direction. Then Sue looks down at her chest.
"I don't have abilities, merely big breasts."
"Yes, I've read your bio."
"What's the point of having these? They just get in the way sometimes."
"You'll develop some. Abilities, I mean. Anyway, get to work. You need to entertain me, or else there might be consequences."
"Why are you even doing this to us?" Kurtz asks. "I've been through enough already. We didn't ask for any of this."
I sigh as I hover above their heads. The three of them look up at the source of my voice, puzzled.
"H-how should we call you, godling?" Joseph asks.
"Refer to me as Festerbump. It's an internet thing. I'm going to give you three a chance to prove yourselves worthy of the task that lies ahead of you. You must build a village in this sacred land, and survive for at least a few years. If you do, then I shall reward you handsomely."
"A-a few years?!" Sue yells. "My little sister is alone!"
"Your sister will be fine, I'm sure."
"When will we return to our homes?" Kurtz insists. "I have a store to run."
I laugh bitterly.
"Oh, the three of you are too pathetic. There's no such thing as a home, only a prison cell called reality. Now to begin. Start working!"
The three villagers look at each other nervously.
"What do you want us to build?" Sue asks. "I'm not good with tools."
Joseph, the farmer, rubs his stubble as if thinking about the weeks or months of work ahead.
"For anyone to visit our future village, we'll have to figure out where exactly we are, and build a road..."
"This is stupid!" Kutz complains. "Why have we been chosen, of all people?!"
I've gone over this crap with other games that feature sentient NPCs. A significant part of the playthrough involves convincing the AI to do your bidding, or preventing them from going insane.
"I let the RNG gods choose you because I need to switch off my brain, forget how bad things really are," I say. "So just get to work, damn it. Make something. Build a house. Build some houses."
"Build some fucking houses," Kurtz mutters. "You know, you could build yourself a house instead of making other people do it. You are supposed to be a god, aren't you?"
"I'm not omnipotent," I confess. "I don't have that kind of power."
Joseph keeps talking to himself out loud, "They'll need roofs, doors, windows. And furniture."
Sue puts a hand on the dwarf's shoulder to calm him down, but he shoots the elf woman a nasty look.
"Hey, a god has put us to the task," she says. "We are building for someone, aren't we? So let's make sure he likes it." Sue looks up to address the invisible presence. "Will you make sure my sister doesn't suffer any harm while I'm gone?"
Her sister likely doesn't exist as data in the game, but this kind of background info helps round Sue out as a character.
"Sure, I'll take care of your sibling," I say, then sigh. "So all of you, stop bitching and get to work already."
Kurtz keeps shaking his head.
"Just leave me alone, damn it. Do you think we know how to make houses? I'm a merchant! I can tell these two are clueless as well!"
"You'll figure it out, I'm sure," I say. "Quit whining."
* * *
The three villagers venture into the surrounding woods to gather sticks and logs light enough to carry. Watching them walking around is boring, so I make time pass faster until, a couple of hours later, the three villagers have amassed a decent haul. They are already tired, but they start building a simple wooden fence, enclosing a square plot of ground. It's just planted sticks and logs that will keep the villagers inside the boundaries of their future village, and hopefully will keep dangerous wildlife outside.
Sue is busy planting a few saplings along the perimeter. The other two villagers watch her as if they had nothing to do.
"I've never built anything before," Kurtz grumbles. "Why should I have to do this?"
"It gives you a sense of accomplishment," Joseph replies. "You'll look at the stuff we will build, and you'll think 'I was partly responsible for that'."
"I don't even know what I'm doing. I just want to go back to the city."
Sue stands up and wipes the dirt from her hands. Then she looks up at the sky as if I were floating in the clouds.
"Godling, we are hungry. How does one survive here?"
"Yes, what kinds of crops grow well in these lands?" Joseph asks me. "Is there water nearby?"
I'm hovering close to them, and when I project my deep voice, they are startled.
"You can hunt deer, or wild boar. Also, I believe I picked an area with a stream. I'm sure you'll find it."
"Hunting?" Kurtz complains. "That sounds like so much work! And we don't have any weapons!"
"Well, then I'll help you. I'm a god, after all. The more you obey me, the more points this game, so to speak, grants me so I can in turn materialize tools for my minions to use."
I look up in the interface what I'm able to buy with the points these three useless villagers have accumulated by gathering the sticks and logs and building that fence. There are only a few things unlocked, mostly simple objects like a hammer, a pickaxe, and a shovel. However, I could spend the points on a big knife or a shoddy bow with a dozen arrows.
A few seconds later, the three villagers are staring with a mixture of awe and fear at a bow and a quiver full of arrows that has appeared on the grass in front of them.
"Now you have a tool able to murder simple animals," I say. "Let's get to hunting."
"That's amazing. It came out of nowhere," Joseph says in a thin voice. "You truly are a god, oh mighty Festerbump."
Sue steps back, looking paler.
"Our god has granted us a boon. We owe him now."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Kurtz mumbles.
"I've never used a bow, though," Sue says.
"Don't worry, I'll do it," Joseph tells her. "It will be easy."
"I guess we could use some meat for tonight," Kurtz mutters. "And vegetables."
Joseph picks up the bow and the quiver. He seems impressed by their size and weight. Then he pulls back on the string as if testing it.
"Alright, let's find out if there's some game in the woods," Joseph says confidently. "Come with me."
Kurtz shakes his head.
"Nah. This is your project. Do it alone."
Sue frowns in disbelief.
"What kind of a merchant are you? Don't you have any respect?"
The dwarf shrugs as if he doesn't care one way or another. Sue sighs, but then she walks up to Joseph's side.
"I'll go with you! Because you will provide food for us, right?"
Joseph gulps, and looks away from the elf's breasts. I follow the two villagers as they walk into the woods together. I accelerate the passage of time until the two villagers come across a bunch of deer. Joseph and Sue crouch behind some bushes. The farmer nocks an arrow carefully, then draws the bowstring and holds it against his cheek. He whistles as if calling to the deer. When one raises its head, Joseph lets the arrow fly. It hits dead center between the deer's eyes with a sickening sound of impact, followed by a grunt and a fall onto the grass. The dead deer twitches feebly.
After the rest of the deer have scampered off, Sue cheers and grabs Joseph's arm.
"Good shot! We'll eat deer tonight, thanks to you!"
"Yeah," Joseph says with a grim smile. "I forgot how good killing feels. My wife hated hunting."
Sue's own smile falters.
"Alright, I'll... help you carry the carcass back to our camp!"
She bends down to grab the deer by the legs. Joseph follows her lead and lifts it up. They stagger back towards the edge of the clearing.
* * *
When we return to the clearing enclosed by the fence, we find out that Kurtz had kept busy gathering firewood, and is tending a campfire.
"Oh, so we are eating deer tonight," Kurtz says as he stares wide-eyed at the carcass. "I thought you two would return empty-handed."
"We were lucky to come across some deer," Joseph says.
"It was a magnificent kill," Sue adds.
Sue and Joseph leave the carcass close to the fire, and sit down wearily.
"If we hadn't been able to kill a deer, I'm sure that the godling would have produced some alternative," Sue says confidently. "We won't starve, not with a god watching over us."
I wouldn't be sure about that.
"This place is getting on my nerves," Kurtz says as he stares at the flames. "There's nothing but trees and bugs here. And I can't even smoke."
Joseph is kneeling next to the carcass.
"But how do we prepare the meat when we lack the proper tools? Maybe I could use an arrowhead to skin the deer..."
"That's where your god comes in," I say.
Thankfully, Joseph killing that deer had produced enough points for me to buy a big enough knife. I materialize it on top of the deer carcass, and the three villagers let out surprised noises.
"Now you own both a bow and a knife, to hunt, prepare the food or defend yourselves from the numerous monsters that likely await their opportunity to hunt you down. Rejoice!"
"Does it have any special powers?" Kurtz says as he inspects the blade carefully.
"It's just a fucking knife. It should be more than enough at this juncture."
Joseph sighs. The three villagers stare at the blade curiously as it gleams silver and gold in the flickering orange glow of the campfire.
"I've butchered a few living creatures in my time," Joseph says. "Or do you guys want to do it?"
"No, no, take care of it," Kurtz says.
Joseph cuts open the pelt with practiced ease. He pulls back the hide, exposing a bloody mass of muscle and fat. Then he slices the flesh into chunks. The elf watches intently at first, but then she starts trembling and grimaces. She covers her mouth.
"Are you sick, Sue?" I ask. "You are sweating quite a lot. Do you feel unwell?"
She blushes. Her eyes dart over to Joseph, who is plunging the blade into the ribcage of the beast with a crunching sound. Sue swallows hard and turns away.
"Y-yeah, I'm feeling a bit nauseous."
After chopping the deer's legs off, Joseph places them beside the torso. The guts are exposed to view, and the smell of blood has filled the air.
"Don't worry, it's only a deer," the human farmer says casually. "It's not like what I ate in prison."
"Prison? What did you do?"
"Oh, nothing."
* * *
The night has fallen, and the three villagers have filled their bellies with cooked deer meat.
"As a bonus exercise," I tell them, "let's see how far you idiots can throw a stick."
Sue picks up one of the sticks that Kurtz had gathered for the campfire, and holds it as if it were a spear. She throws it a few times, determined to get better quickly, so that she can prove to me that she deserves to be my follower. Joseph has let another stick fly through the air in a straight line. Kurtz has ignored my godly request, and is sitting cross-legged by the fire. He shakes his head from time to time. His long beard makes him look like a madman.
Both of my willing minions get bored in a few minutes, and sit on the grass to contemplate their pitiful existences. Sue brings up how unused she is to hanging out with both humans and dwarves, and that gets Kurtz going.
"I'm sure you would be able to mingle with humans almost anywhere in the world, but my own species has nearly died off. Only the lucky survived the war against the orcs."
Sue hangs her head low, and hides her face in her forearms.
"Don't remind me of my brother," she mutters.
"Your brother?" Joseph asks casually. "What happened to him?"
Sue hesitates. She takes a deep breath before answering.
"He disappeared during the war. As I looked for survivors in the nearby villages, I kept hearing rumors that many had escaped the approaching orc warbands. I held on to the hope that I would catch up with my dear brother eventually. But several years passed, and we never received any news."
"I'm sorry," Joseph says. "It must have been terrible for you."
"His name was Eric. He was a farmer, same as you. He always hated it, though, always complained. He used to say he wanted to change the way society worked. That the whole system needed fixing. But one day he simply walked away, and nobody saw him again..."
Sue cries softly into her forearms as her shoulders tremble.
I wonder if the game made up that piece of backstory for Sue because she didn't seem interesting or sympathetic enough. I recall vaguely that the process that generated this new game world spewed out notifications about orcs taking over other races' settlements.
After a minute, Kurtz breaks the silence.
"We should all return home," the dwarf says grimly. "The sooner we leave this place, the happier we'll be."
"You can't, though," I say. "You need to build a village."
Kurtz looks with contempt in my general direction.
"But we can count on your assistance, can't we, oh mighty god?"
"I'm sure I can do a thing or two for you."
Sue sniffles and peeks out from behind her forearms.
"You'll keep us safe from orc raiders and other vermin, won't you?"
I shake my head, but they can't see me.
"Of course."
"If we die for whatever reason, will you send our souls to heaven?"
I don't believe there's a heaven, nor a hell. Life isn't fair. But I need to keep these idiots believing in me, or else they may rebel. Even kill themselves.
"Sure. Just don't blame me if you end up in hell instead."
Joseph chuckles nervously. Sue kneels and thanks me profusely as tears run down her cheeks. It makes me uncomfortable, but the angle gives me a privileged view of the cleavage of her peasant dress. All that tit meat makes me wish I had a physical body.
"Then we shall trust in you and pray for protection!" Sue says.
"Good, good," I say, and clear my throat. "That settles it for today, I think. I'm leaving for a while. Go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Just remember to avoid killing each other in the meantime."
"Right, godling. We won't mess it up," Joseph says.
I remain among them for a while after I've stopped talking. Sue wanders around alone, deep in thought. Kurtz sits by the fire and eats more deer meat, most of which will spoil. Their lives move slowly forward. With time, this place will become a home for them. Then the orcs and trolls other crazy shit will likely come to destroy everything.
Now my villagers lie down to sleep on the grass, exhausted after having spent all day gathering firewood, hunting, preparing meat, throwing sticks, and erecting a fence in a tiny patch of land.
---
My mind is fogged up again, my eyesight has started to go funny. The world is turning a dull, flat grey. My old pal depression is paying me a visit.
I'm so tired all the time now. My head feels heavy and leaden. Whenever I try to force myself to leave my cramped apartment to take a walk, I wonder what's the point. There's nothing for me in those streets. No friends left behind to greet. All gone, or just never there at all.
I have the means to escape, the old tried method: I take a pee and a shit, I undress myself down to my boxers, and I lie down on my VR chair. Then I strap my brain into place and load up the virtual hub.
I've been trying this recent game, an advanced clone of the old 'Dwarf Fortress': the player is a godling that oversees the development of a fantasy village. The sentient AI characters are the stars, for as long as the player can stand to witness their beloved villagers suffering.
It takes some skill and imagination to build a medieval village that doesn't make you want to pull your hair out. It's complicated to get the right balance between resources and population density and infrastructure and housing stock. You need to plan carefully, arrange everything like a clockwork mechanism, and then keep an eye on things as they happen, so that you can respond if something goes wrong. I'm barely getting the hang of the game.
I start from zero, in a generated world. Temperate forests are newbie territory, but the depression hinders my ability to focus, and I'm using this game to distract myself. I choose a wide clearing surrounded by a forest. The trees are full of little green leaves, the grass is bright yellow and lush. It smells fresh here, clean and sweet.
I generate my starter three AI villagers. The RNG gods provide a nice combination of personalities: a human farmer (Joseph) who hates his life; an elf girl (Sue) with big breasts; and a dwarf merchant (Kurtz), who thinks he owns everything.
The villagers stand around confused, while my avatar, invisible to them, hovers over the scene.
"How did we end up here?" Joseph asks.
The dwarf, Kurtz, narrows his eyes in suspicion.
"Dunno. Maybe you're the one that got us into this situation," he grunts.
Joseph rubs his temples.
"I think we were all wandering around in the woods when suddenly we found ourselves here."
Sue is looking around frantically. Her hair reaches down to her waist, and is a pretty dark gold. I can tell I will spend plenty of this playthrough ogling this virtual creature. If she survives.
"My sister is home alone!" Sue says in a high-pitched voice. "I need to get back!"
I speak to them with my stentorious voice, "Listen to me, villagers! I'm your god now, and I have brought you here to this forest so you three would establish a new village. This is an adventure that will test your abilities."
They all stare blankly in my general direction. Then Sue looks down at her chest.
"I don't have abilities, merely big breasts."
"Yes, I've read your bio."
"What's the point of having these? They just get in the way sometimes."
"You'll develop some. Abilities, I mean. Anyway, get to work. You need to entertain me, or else there might be consequences."
"Why are you even doing this to us?" Kurtz asks. "I've been through enough already. We didn't ask for any of this."
I sigh as I hover above their heads. The three of them look up at the source of my voice, puzzled.
"H-how should we call you, godling?" Joseph asks.
"Refer to me as Festerbump. It's an internet thing. I'm going to give you three a chance to prove yourselves worthy of the task that lies ahead of you. You must build a village in this sacred land, and survive for at least a few years. If you do, then I shall reward you handsomely."
"A-a few years?!" Sue yells. "My little sister is alone!"
"Your sister will be fine, I'm sure."
"When will we return to our homes?" Kurtz insists. "I have a store to run."
I laugh bitterly.
"Oh, the three of you are too pathetic. There's no such thing as a home, only a prison cell called reality. Now to begin. Start working!"
The three villagers look at each other nervously.
"What do you want us to build?" Sue asks. "I'm not good with tools."
Joseph, the farmer, rubs his stubble as if thinking about the weeks or months of work ahead.
"For anyone to visit our future village, we'll have to figure out where exactly we are, and build a road..."
"This is stupid!" Kutz complains. "Why have we been chosen, of all people?!"
I've gone over this crap with other games that feature sentient NPCs. A significant part of the playthrough involves convincing the AI to do your bidding, or preventing them from going insane.
"I let the RNG gods choose you because I need to switch off my brain, forget how bad things really are," I say. "So just get to work, damn it. Make something. Build a house. Build some houses."
"Build some fucking houses," Kurtz mutters. "You know, you could build yourself a house instead of making other people do it. You are supposed to be a god, aren't you?"
"I'm not omnipotent," I confess. "I don't have that kind of power."
Joseph keeps talking to himself out loud, "They'll need roofs, doors, windows. And furniture."
Sue puts a hand on the dwarf's shoulder to calm him down, but he shoots the elf woman a nasty look.
"Hey, a god has put us to the task," she says. "We are building for someone, aren't we? So let's make sure he likes it." Sue looks up to address the invisible presence. "Will you make sure my sister doesn't suffer any harm while I'm gone?"
Her sister likely doesn't exist as data in the game, but this kind of background info helps round Sue out as a character.
"Sure, I'll take care of your sibling," I say, then sigh. "So all of you, stop bitching and get to work already."
Kurtz keeps shaking his head.
"Just leave me alone, damn it. Do you think we know how to make houses? I'm a merchant! I can tell these two are clueless as well!"
"You'll figure it out, I'm sure," I say. "Quit whining."
* * *
The three villagers venture into the surrounding woods to gather sticks and logs light enough to carry. Watching them walking around is boring, so I make time pass faster until, a couple of hours later, the three villagers have amassed a decent haul. They are already tired, but they start building a simple wooden fence, enclosing a square plot of ground. It's just planted sticks and logs that will keep the villagers inside the boundaries of their future village, and hopefully will keep dangerous wildlife outside.
Sue is busy planting a few saplings along the perimeter. The other two villagers watch her as if they had nothing to do.
"I've never built anything before," Kurtz grumbles. "Why should I have to do this?"
"It gives you a sense of accomplishment," Joseph replies. "You'll look at the stuff we will build, and you'll think 'I was partly responsible for that'."
"I don't even know what I'm doing. I just want to go back to the city."
Sue stands up and wipes the dirt from her hands. Then she looks up at the sky as if I were floating in the clouds.
"Godling, we are hungry. How does one survive here?"
"Yes, what kinds of crops grow well in these lands?" Joseph asks me. "Is there water nearby?"
I'm hovering close to them, and when I project my deep voice, they are startled.
"You can hunt deer, or wild boar. Also, I believe I picked an area with a stream. I'm sure you'll find it."
"Hunting?" Kurtz complains. "That sounds like so much work! And we don't have any weapons!"
"Well, then I'll help you. I'm a god, after all. The more you obey me, the more points this game, so to speak, grants me so I can in turn materialize tools for my minions to use."
I look up in the interface what I'm able to buy with the points these three useless villagers have accumulated by gathering the sticks and logs and building that fence. There are only a few things unlocked, mostly simple objects like a hammer, a pickaxe, and a shovel. However, I could spend the points on a big knife or a shoddy bow with a dozen arrows.
A few seconds later, the three villagers are staring with a mixture of awe and fear at a bow and a quiver full of arrows that has appeared on the grass in front of them.
"Now you have a tool able to murder simple animals," I say. "Let's get to hunting."
"That's amazing. It came out of nowhere," Joseph says in a thin voice. "You truly are a god, oh mighty Festerbump."
Sue steps back, looking paler.
"Our god has granted us a boon. We owe him now."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Kurtz mumbles.
"I've never used a bow, though," Sue says.
"Don't worry, I'll do it," Joseph tells her. "It will be easy."
"I guess we could use some meat for tonight," Kurtz mutters. "And vegetables."
Joseph picks up the bow and the quiver. He seems impressed by their size and weight. Then he pulls back on the string as if testing it.
"Alright, let's find out if there's some game in the woods," Joseph says confidently. "Come with me."
Kurtz shakes his head.
"Nah. This is your project. Do it alone."
Sue frowns in disbelief.
"What kind of a merchant are you? Don't you have any respect?"
The dwarf shrugs as if he doesn't care one way or another. Sue sighs, but then she walks up to Joseph's side.
"I'll go with you! Because you will provide food for us, right?"
Joseph gulps, and looks away from the elf's breasts. I follow the two villagers as they walk into the woods together. I accelerate the passage of time until the two villagers come across a bunch of deer. Joseph and Sue crouch behind some bushes. The farmer nocks an arrow carefully, then draws the bowstring and holds it against his cheek. He whistles as if calling to the deer. When one raises its head, Joseph lets the arrow fly. It hits dead center between the deer's eyes with a sickening sound of impact, followed by a grunt and a fall onto the grass. The dead deer twitches feebly.
After the rest of the deer have scampered off, Sue cheers and grabs Joseph's arm.
"Good shot! We'll eat deer tonight, thanks to you!"
"Yeah," Joseph says with a grim smile. "I forgot how good killing feels. My wife hated hunting."
Sue's own smile falters.
"Alright, I'll... help you carry the carcass back to our camp!"
She bends down to grab the deer by the legs. Joseph follows her lead and lifts it up. They stagger back towards the edge of the clearing.
* * *
When we return to the clearing enclosed by the fence, we find out that Kurtz had kept busy gathering firewood, and is tending a campfire.
"Oh, so we are eating deer tonight," Kurtz says as he stares wide-eyed at the carcass. "I thought you two would return empty-handed."
"We were lucky to come across some deer," Joseph says.
"It was a magnificent kill," Sue adds.
Sue and Joseph leave the carcass close to the fire, and sit down wearily.
"If we hadn't been able to kill a deer, I'm sure that the godling would have produced some alternative," Sue says confidently. "We won't starve, not with a god watching over us."
I wouldn't be sure about that.
"This place is getting on my nerves," Kurtz says as he stares at the flames. "There's nothing but trees and bugs here. And I can't even smoke."
Joseph is kneeling next to the carcass.
"But how do we prepare the meat when we lack the proper tools? Maybe I could use an arrowhead to skin the deer..."
"That's where your god comes in," I say.
Thankfully, Joseph killing that deer had produced enough points for me to buy a big enough knife. I materialize it on top of the deer carcass, and the three villagers let out surprised noises.
"Now you own both a bow and a knife, to hunt, prepare the food or defend yourselves from the numerous monsters that likely await their opportunity to hunt you down. Rejoice!"
"Does it have any special powers?" Kurtz says as he inspects the blade carefully.
"It's just a fucking knife. It should be more than enough at this juncture."
Joseph sighs. The three villagers stare at the blade curiously as it gleams silver and gold in the flickering orange glow of the campfire.
"I've butchered a few living creatures in my time," Joseph says. "Or do you guys want to do it?"
"No, no, take care of it," Kurtz says.
Joseph cuts open the pelt with practiced ease. He pulls back the hide, exposing a bloody mass of muscle and fat. Then he slices the flesh into chunks. The elf watches intently at first, but then she starts trembling and grimaces. She covers her mouth.
"Are you sick, Sue?" I ask. "You are sweating quite a lot. Do you feel unwell?"
She blushes. Her eyes dart over to Joseph, who is plunging the blade into the ribcage of the beast with a crunching sound. Sue swallows hard and turns away.
"Y-yeah, I'm feeling a bit nauseous."
After chopping the deer's legs off, Joseph places them beside the torso. The guts are exposed to view, and the smell of blood has filled the air.
"Don't worry, it's only a deer," the human farmer says casually. "It's not like what I ate in prison."
"Prison? What did you do?"
"Oh, nothing."
* * *
The night has fallen, and the three villagers have filled their bellies with cooked deer meat.
"As a bonus exercise," I tell them, "let's see how far you idiots can throw a stick."
Sue picks up one of the sticks that Kurtz had gathered for the campfire, and holds it as if it were a spear. She throws it a few times, determined to get better quickly, so that she can prove to me that she deserves to be my follower. Joseph has let another stick fly through the air in a straight line. Kurtz has ignored my godly request, and is sitting cross-legged by the fire. He shakes his head from time to time. His long beard makes him look like a madman.
Both of my willing minions get bored in a few minutes, and sit on the grass to contemplate their pitiful existences. Sue brings up how unused she is to hanging out with both humans and dwarves, and that gets Kurtz going.
"I'm sure you would be able to mingle with humans almost anywhere in the world, but my own species has nearly died off. Only the lucky survived the war against the orcs."
Sue hangs her head low, and hides her face in her forearms.
"Don't remind me of my brother," she mutters.
"Your brother?" Joseph asks casually. "What happened to him?"
Sue hesitates. She takes a deep breath before answering.
"He disappeared during the war. As I looked for survivors in the nearby villages, I kept hearing rumors that many had escaped the approaching orc warbands. I held on to the hope that I would catch up with my dear brother eventually. But several years passed, and we never received any news."
"I'm sorry," Joseph says. "It must have been terrible for you."
"His name was Eric. He was a farmer, same as you. He always hated it, though, always complained. He used to say he wanted to change the way society worked. That the whole system needed fixing. But one day he simply walked away, and nobody saw him again..."
Sue cries softly into her forearms as her shoulders tremble.
I wonder if the game made up that piece of backstory for Sue because she didn't seem interesting or sympathetic enough. I recall vaguely that the process that generated this new game world spewed out notifications about orcs taking over other races' settlements.
After a minute, Kurtz breaks the silence.
"We should all return home," the dwarf says grimly. "The sooner we leave this place, the happier we'll be."
"You can't, though," I say. "You need to build a village."
Kurtz looks with contempt in my general direction.
"But we can count on your assistance, can't we, oh mighty god?"
"I'm sure I can do a thing or two for you."
Sue sniffles and peeks out from behind her forearms.
"You'll keep us safe from orc raiders and other vermin, won't you?"
I shake my head, but they can't see me.
"Of course."
"If we die for whatever reason, will you send our souls to heaven?"
I don't believe there's a heaven, nor a hell. Life isn't fair. But I need to keep these idiots believing in me, or else they may rebel. Even kill themselves.
"Sure. Just don't blame me if you end up in hell instead."
Joseph chuckles nervously. Sue kneels and thanks me profusely as tears run down her cheeks. It makes me uncomfortable, but the angle gives me a privileged view of the cleavage of her peasant dress. All that tit meat makes me wish I had a physical body.
"Then we shall trust in you and pray for protection!" Sue says.
"Good, good," I say, and clear my throat. "That settles it for today, I think. I'm leaving for a while. Go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Just remember to avoid killing each other in the meantime."
"Right, godling. We won't mess it up," Joseph says.
I remain among them for a while after I've stopped talking. Sue wanders around alone, deep in thought. Kurtz sits by the fire and eats more deer meat, most of which will spoil. Their lives move slowly forward. With time, this place will become a home for them. Then the orcs and trolls other crazy shit will likely come to destroy everything.
Now my villagers lie down to sleep on the grass, exhausted after having spent all day gathering firewood, hunting, preparing meat, throwing sticks, and erecting a fence in a tiny patch of land.
August 12, 2021
The Crown of Lost Dreams (Poetry)
Link for this poem on my personal page, where it looks better
---
---
I sit against the wall of this forgotten basement,
Then I adjust on my head the iron crown
To align the screws with the holes in my skull.
I tighten the screws slowly, carefully,
While the rusted iron grinds on the bone,
Until the screw-tips dig into my grey matter,
Reaching for the depths where the thoughts reside,
To probe into my daydreams.
The thoughts come like worms from deep underground,
Abandoning their old forms and squirming up.
They will crawl all over me if I do not hold them back,
With the visions that I conjure in the dark.
When I am ready, I press down on the lever,
A tiny click sounds, and then all at once
My consciousness floods out from my mind,
Through the connected, fraying wires,
Into my invention, a mechanical egg,
Which stands tall on its plinth.
A glass window lets me peer inside,
To witness the growth of the amorphous fetus
Which my daydreams keep nourishing.
(All is well until the day when the crown begins to leak.
The thought comes that the wires are coming loose,
And soon I shall lose my perfect daydreaming tool.)
There is no light here, but my eyes glow green.
The walls have fallen away to reveal a dim place
Full of the most curious shapes and colours,
Like some strange landscape seen from space.
I see myself walking down streets and alleys at night,
Searching desperately among shadows and darkness,
For the one who is waiting there just outside sight.
The girl comes closer every time I conjure her image,
As though I've been watching out for her presence
Through all these years I have kept dreaming
About how wonderful life would be with her by my side.
A face appears, smiling and jovial.
She has long brown hair and greenish-blue eyes,
And a smattering of freckles around her nose.
Her mouth opens, showing teeth like pearls.
Her hand rests gently upon her hip
As she walks down the steps towards me.
When we meet eye to eye, she smiles wider.
Inside the egg, a fetus appears,
So small that it's almost invisible.
It stays hidden in the shadows
While the world moves around it.
(I can feel the fetus inside my head,
Growing with each passing second.
Soon I will be able to hear it
In my own voice.)
The girl and I walk through town holding hands.
Every street corner, every park bench,
Every building with a doorway or a sign,
I try in vain to find something familiar about it,
But everything looks so alien; I'm dreaming.
The girl and I sit on a riverbank
As we read from the books we share,
Which are filled with adventures and dreams
That nobody else but us understands.
As I press my hands against the glass,
I hold my breath, but the fetus remains still.
Its skin is rough, covered with black hairs.
It has four eyes and six spindly legs.
It stares back with its black, empty pupils.
Will it become strong enough to survive?
(I look down at my feet.
A trail of ants crawl across the floor,
And all around me, spiders spin their webs
To trap flies that buzz and flutter by.
There are beetles too, scuttling in the dirt.
One crawls over my shoe. It lifts its head
To gaze up at me with big round eyes
Full of wonder and curiosity.)
The fetus had started rotting, turning black.
Soon after, it bursts forth from the egg
With nothing but an empty sack for skin.
My daydreams have failed me again.
In frustration, I toss the rotten remains
Into the pile of desiccated embryos.
(A thought comes that I am trapped in this place
With nothing more than rotting lumps of flesh.
And now there is only one thing I want
To keep me going, to give me strength,
Something to make me forget all my fears,
And my desire to live on in despair;
My crown is so small, fragile and worn out.)
As time passes by, my brain grows tired.
It needs proper rest to repair itself.
But I continue feeding the embryos
By focusing all my attention on my work.
My mind toils constantly
To achieve the eternal rewards.
(There used to be no room for daydreaming.
Instead, I just stared at the walls.
Day after day, week after week, month after month.
For years I lived just like that.
Nobody asked questions when they saw
How I stared endlessly into space.)
The girl and I walk side by side through the forest
Down paths and hillsides covered in flowers.
We climb mountains where snowflakes fall softly
While I feel my heart beating faster.
I place my hands upon the smooth glass pane,
Because a new creation has begun to take form:
A headless, limbless, hirsute torso
With a case of complete ectopia cordis.
I shove my arm into the gooey insides of the egg
To touch the protruding, beating heart.
The fibers of the muscular organ
Try to hold on to my skin
Like tiny fingers.
(The fetus tries to crawl up my forearm,
Trying desperately to escape.
I pull my hand away from the fetus,
And then it bursts forth from the egg
Without a body or limbs.
I stare in disbelief as it falls apart
Into hundreds of fragments of flesh.
They scatter in all directions
To be eaten by the hungry beetles.)
A new fetus grows a myriad of fleshy tentacles
As the crown feeds it with my mind images.
It is born dead, a veritable monster.
I discard it into the growing pile of fetuses.
(At night when everyone slept,
Our minds became one, united.
Together we dreamt of wonderful things
Which have vanished along with time.)
The girl and I find a cozy spot beside a lake,
Underneath a giant tree that shelters us from the wind.
We lie down in the grass and stare up at the stars
As the clouds drift quickly across the sky.
I open my mouth, take a breath,
Sip the air as though it were nectar,
Smell the earth beneath my feet,
Taste the sky upon my tongue.
Each moment is so precious,
So filled with love and trust.
Just being able to breathe out,
Is worth more than gold.
I'm sitting on the cold stone floor
Somewhere underground,
Surrounded by darkness.
I can barely move or speak.
I am trapped within myself,
Separated from life.
My eyes are wide open,
Yet I cannot see anything.
I hear a voice calling to me,
But I cannot understand.
(My consciousness floats freely,
Free to travel through time and space,
To wander anywhere I please.
But there's nothing left to see,
No one to talk to,
Or to be.
All I know is loneliness.)
The girl and I stare at the moon.
In time, our eyes begin to close,
And our minds wander away together
Towards faraway places and bright sunsets.
A fetus lies on the cold floor.
Its body is made of a soft material,
Like a sponge or tofu.
It has patches of white fur, like snow.
I can hear it breathing faintly
As it stares blankly ahead.
I'm waiting for the fetus to writhe helplessly,
And to cry out in pain,
But it shrivels up more and more.
After days of suffering, it dies,
Leaving behind only bones.
(I'm going to let my brain rot,
Then I will be free.
And nobody will be able to stop me.
Nobody will ever try to help me.)
An electric current runs between the girl and I,
Like two parallel lines meeting across infinity.
Her smile shines brighter than any star
As we embrace each other tightly.
Our hands run wild over each other's bodies,
Groping hungrily under the clothes.
We slip our tongues past each other's teeth
Trying to find somewhere warm and soft,
Somewhere safe where we belong.
(There's no way out.
I stay here, trapped underground,
In darkness, far away from light.
I long to go above ground,
To walk freely upon grass,
To freely breathe fresh air.
I eat rats and spiders instead.)
A fetus crawls out of the mechanical egg
With a badger tail curled around its waist.
It is covered in black fur,
Its round head looks like a turtle.
My body feels heavier than ever before.
The crown's screws feel fused to my skull.
I sleep soundly during the day, I dream all night long,
So I can keep nurturing the little ones inside the egg.
The girl and I have no children yet,
But some day, when we are old and grey,
Our son or daughter will walk along
With his or her precious child,
Who will carry our hopes within
In a secret pocket deep inside their heart.
(And then they'll look at us and laugh.
They'll say, "You poor fools.
Why did you waste your time?
Why did you work so hard to grow babies
When there was nothing left to do?")
I feel a sudden pang of longing for her face,
Her body so soft and smooth to touch,
The sound of our laughter ringing through the air,
Till it echoes into the distant past,
Where it joins with other voices long forgotten,
In a chorus of memory that sings to us both
About how it would always be,
If only we could find each other again.
The fetuses have minds of their own;
They think and feel and dream
About other things than what I want.
None of the fetuses like my daydreams.
They hate my happy days together with the girl,
Our sweet memories and gentle caresses.
Instead they desire the most hideous images,
Filled with pain, suffering, anguish, despair.
(Every day, I sit in my room
Listening to the fetuses' cries.
Their shrieks of anguish and torment
Make me sick with sadness.)
One of the fetuses grows healthy and strong,
Covered in glistening, frost white wings.
It could fly through the sky,
To stare down at me from above.
When the winged spawn escapes from the egg,
I hold its warm, gooey frame in my arms,
But it struggles to flap its wings, to free itself.
I let it go, and it flies against the grimy walls,
Dusting the cement and the black cobwebs.
The spawn keeps weakening and slowing down,
Until it finally disintegrates into the dark,
Leaving behind only empty space.
(My mind becomes foggy and dull,
And my dreams fade away.
There is nothing left for me now but to sleep.)
I wake up on the cold stone floor.
I lie there breathing hard and crying.
Why did you leave me here, I ask,
Why did you abandon me?
Stay here next to me, I demand,
And never leave again
(You are not real,
But I know your name).
I scream it out loud,
And the fetuses start to cry.
All I hear is a cacophony,
A horrible, endless noise.
The fetuses are telling me what to dream.
I'm controlled by their needs and wants.
They demand time to spend alone,
With only my daydreams for company.
My time is running short.
Before I know it, I'll be gone.
All these dreams will die with me.
Only the perfect one may remain.
That one will never age.
(I can see my face reflected in a pool of blood
Which seems to move as though alive.
"I can hear your heart beating," the girl says.
She leans forward and presses her lips to mine.
Our mouths meet and part again, over and over
Till we feel as one body in our joined flesh.
We lie entwined for days upon a pile of bones
While the outside moves by in its ordinary way.)
After countless failures,
The crown will finally break down.
All my daydreams will be fruitless.
Those visions of smiles and touches
By the caring hand of a ghost
Will fade and dissolve in the dark,
And I'll be left in this grubby basement
With its cobwebs and desiccated fetuses.
A new fetus sprouts from my head
Like an evil mushroom.
I can't control it anymore;
It's growing rapidly,
Becoming more powerful every day.
All I can do is sit here
Waiting for it to burst forth.
It won't stop growing,
Growing and getting stronger
By sucking out all my thoughts.
When the crown cracks,
There will be nothing left of me
Except for my metal shell
Covered in stains of rust.
August 11, 2021
Alma: a Successful Case Study, Pt. 2 (Poetry)
I got up to approach my patient carefully.
"Alma, what happened? You look pale again."
She plopped down on the chair
And ran her fingers through her hair.
"Doctor, are these sessions fully confidential,
Or are you obligated to rat me out to the police?"
"Something bad has happened, huh?
Don't worry, I don't need to reveal crimes,
And besides, I'm very fond of you, Alma,
So I simply wouldn't do such a thing."
A single tear fell from behind her sunglasses.
She took a deep breath and said,
"I've fucked up, doctor, real bad.
I'm loving finding new blood to taste,
As well as the feeling of plunging my teeth
Into vessels who can barely defend themselves.
I could hardly get enough,
And I wanted to discover all the flavors."
She rested her elbows on her knees,
And she wrung her hands as trembled.
"Whenever... I passed by playgrounds,
And saw all those lively kids being happy,
I wondered how wonderful they would taste.
This morning I knew my parents would leave
To visit some family in another city,
So I... started chatting with this cute boy,
And I invited him to play video games in my room."
"Don't tell me you raped him, Alma."
She blushed, but shook her head.
"I'm not into kids! But I drank him dry.
I didn't mean to. He tasted so fucking good,
Like the nectar of the heavens, doctor.
I couldn't get enough of that shit,
So I kept sucking his blood until I was full."
"That boy died, then," I said.
Alma nodded sadly.
"I-I don't think I left a drop of blood."
I rubbed my chin.
"I see how that's a problem."
"Yes, it is. This isn't the first time
I have killed someone with my teeth.
But this was the worst one yet."
I gasped as I was swallowing,
Which made me cough hard.
"What, this wasn't the first time?"
Alma hunched over and bit her nails.
"The others were worthless,
The kinds that society wouldn't miss,
But this was just a little boy, doctor,
Maybe about nine years old.
I feel like I can't stop myself!
I'm addicted to blood, doctor,
It's just too damn delicious!"
She hid her face in her hands,
But then she raised her voice.
"I-it's just my nature, right?!
If this universe created a person
Who needs to feed upon other people
Merely to remain healthy and strong,
Then surely I'm entitled to doing so!"
I grabbed her shoulders
So she would look up at me.
"You're correct, Alma.
We can't change your nature;
It is your true self,
And you must accept it."
She cried until she found the strength to talk.
"Doctor, I was chopping up that boy
When my parents walked through the door.
I guess the family reunion got cancelled,
But I didn't have a chance to explain.
They just saw all the body parts,
And the boy's head on the dining table,
And both started shrieking in terror.
My mother collapsed on the floor,
But my father pulled out his phone.
He would have called the police on me!"
"What a dick. On his own daughter."
She nodded energetically, like 'I know, right?'.
"So I had to stop him. I ripped out his head."
"Alma, what are you saying?
You mean you bit through his neck?"
"No, doctor, I just pulled hard on his head,
And it came off like a toy's plastic head.
You wouldn't believe how strong I've become!
And I get stronger the more blood I drink."
She took off her sunglasses,
But only to rub her teary eyes.
"My own mother was horrified!
She looked at me as if I were sick.
I didn't even care, because I was in heaven.
I felt my blood pumping inside my veins,
And all the power coursed through my brain!
Doctor, do you understand how addictive this is?!"
"That sounds like a very nice sensation, yes."
She smiled weakly, then sighed.
"Anyway, so I kicked my mom's head off.
I didn't feel that bad about her, to be honest.
I was dragging their dead bodies into my bedroom
When suddenly the police were pounding on the door.
My fucking neighbors, of course, called them.
The cops saw the crime scene and everything."
"My goodness. How did you escape?"
"Well, through a window, and ran.
But the issue, doctor, is that now I'm a fugitive."
"This is all very traumatic, I'm sure."
Alma stared down at her hands
Like she was searching for something.
"Doctor, is draining someone of all his blood
To get my fill considered a murder?"
"Well, I guess you are technically guilty of murder,
But it doesn't matter because it was for sustenance.
I doubt the authorities even consider vampires real."
"Really?" she asked, hopeful.
"Sure, vampires have no rights as citizens.
The government believes them to be creatures of evil.
Vampires can't legally vote, nor own property.
They can't even marry nor possess firearms.
In any case, Alma, you didn't feed upon your parents,
You just decapitated them,
And that's likely to be considered murder."
She looked down in despair.
"I'm such an awful person,
But I still want to keep living.
Please help me."
"Well, what were you planning on doing?"
"I was thinking of finding a safe house,
Some new base of operations."
I rubbed my chin, deep in thought.
"Why not just come to my home?
It's a lot safer than a hotel room,
And I'll protect you from the law.
You'll get along well with my family."
Alma raised a hand to her chest,
And had to blink away some tears.
"That's very kind of you, but I don't need protection.
I'm a vampire now, so I must live like one."
"So, like in the sewers?"
"No, I was thinking of a high-rise building,
Or at least some place more habitable."
"I respect your desire for autonomy,
And I believe you are ready for independence.
I also want you to enjoy your newfound powers.
I hope you find happiness and joy in life."
She looked at me with a desperate gaze.
"But please, doctor, I'd like to come here again!
Talking things out with you is so important."
"Of course, Alma. You'll always be welcome here."
She gifted me a huge grin.
"Oh, thank you so much, doctor!"
She gave me a hug,
Then she left my office in a cloud of perfume
Which mostly smelled of blood.
Despite Alma's wishes, I didn't see her for two months,
But sometimes it felt as if everyone talked about her.
The news kept referring to Alma as a serial killer,
Although they had failed to make the connection
With a series of thugs found dead, exsanguinated
Or merely beheaded as if efortlessly.
I guess the police didn't believe Alma capable
Of wiping out some of the worst local gangs.
Someone knocked on the window behind me,
Although my office was located in a seventh floor.
When I turned around, Alma was crouched there,
Perched gracefully on the narrow windowsill.
I quickly phoned my secretary.
"Mercedes, don't let anyone come to my office
Until I say the opposite. I'm going to be busy."
Then I let Alma in, who had waited patiently.
"I've missed you, doctor," she said.
She was wearing more expensive sunglasses;
A reinforced leather jacket like that of a biker;
And iron grey, full length leggings
That displayed her strong physique.
I was in awe of the majestic young woman.
"Alma, I still remember you as that pale girl
Whose remaining energy barely allowed her to talk,
But you've grown so confident and assertive.
Look at you, you are strong and healthy,
Filling out your skin, gaining muscle mass!
Your progress has been extraordinary."
She raised a hand to her chest,
And let out a noise of delight.
"Oh, you've always been so kind to me,
When everyone else just treated me like shit.
I feel much better, I'm fucking so many people,
And I'm close to becoming a full vampire!"
"I'm glad to hear that. You really look great."
After we both sat down, we started our session.
"Alma, the last time you came, you were on the run,
And you were concerned about finding a safe house."
She waved a hand dismissively.
"I solved that problem quickly!
I was skulking around at night,
Hoping to come across some place I could take over,
And I was trying to pee in a corner,
When a couple of thugs jumped me, to rape me!"
"Well, I'm sure they're gone now."
Alma laughed heartily,
But her eyes shone with a burning light.
"Oh, I left one alive, and he guided me home,
Or at least where his gang had their hideout.
It turned out to be one of the nastier ones.
They were running most of the drugs around.
That day I found out that I can take on
Dozens of guys armed even with firearms.
If I kicked them, they went flying,
Or else I ripped their heads off,
Or incapacitated them enough
That I could simply drain them of their blood,
So they just served to make me stronger."
"You truly are a mighty warrior,
Now that you've become a vampire.
I hope you'll continue to grow in strength
And become a true master of the world."
"Oh, I wish you'd been there to see it!
So yeah, I took over their building,
And then I figured I could hit other gangs.
I hate drugs, they are just nasty things,
And that's ceased to be a problem in this city.
I now own several buildings and businesses,
Which provide plenty of money legally.
I have so much money that I donate some
To charities and groups of which I'm fond."
"Alma, you are almost a model citizen!"
She smiled widely.
"You're so nice to say that, doctor.
But you know, I still crave human blood."
"Of course, that's just your nature."
"It became too annoying to seduce people,
So I keep dozens chained or in cages.
I go for variety as well, mostly of ages.
You could say I've become a collector."
She laughed, and I shared her laugh;
I had missed being around this woman.
Alma smiled sweetly at me, and said,
"So I always have big bags of blood
That I can feed upon whenever I please.
If I fancy anyone I see in the streets,
I tell some of my guys to kidnap them."
"Don't you have to be a bit careful?
You are still a fugitive, right?"
"I'm not worried about that, doctor!
Many of the officers are in my pocket,
And they know that I can reach their families,
So I could drain anyone in plain daylight
And nobody would dare touch me.
However, that would be trashy."
I was astonished at her progress.
"You are in good terms with the police, too.
You used to be so shy and withdrawn."
She reached over the desk to touch my hand.
"That's because I was restraining my nature,
I was keeping my beautiful soul in chains,
But you taught me I should be liberated,
And for that I'm always in debt with you."
"What I want is to keep seeing you happy."
I gave her a moment to wipe her tears,
But then she spoke brightly again.
"I've discovered new interests.
Most of the time I don't just feed,
I also enjoy torturing my blood sacks.
To some that I intend to discard,
I rip off their limbs, or flay their skin."
"Oh, that sounds so gory."
"I like it though, doctor. It's fun to watch
The agony on their faces as they scream.
It makes me feel so powerful and strong.
I'd love to do it to all of society,
Except I think we'd have riots everywhere.
Anyway, I'm into eating human meat too.
I love to chew on it, suck its juices.
I prefer their brains... Or maybe their hearts.
It depends on the quality of the meat."
"It's important to keep a varied diet.
Besides, as a vampire you may be resistant
To spongiform encephalopathy."
"Spongi-what?"
"A disease that attacks the brain.
It's caused by cannibalism,
Which increases the risk of prion disease.
But you may not be fully human now,
So it would be like eating a cow for you."
Alma gave it some thought.
"Yeah, I think I'm fine, better than ever.
I get stronger the more blood I consume.
Everything seems brighter,
I'm often burning up with excitement.
All those colors, textures and smells!
I can see farther, hear much clearer.
It makes me feel so special."
"Special?"
"Superior. Like I am God Almighty."
"That's a good sign that your depression's gone.
You must be glad to have a purpose now."
"I never felt so fulfilled, doctor.
Not once in my life did I know what it was
To have a reason to live,
But now I see a myriad of futures for me.
I'm always so busy scheming and planning!"
"Good. That's the best thing you can do."
Suddenly Alma's smile faltered.
"You still can connect with me, right?
I mean, I haven't become that strange
Because I'm developing my vampiric powers."
"You will always be the Alma I know.
Besides, normalcy is a relative term.
There are people who would call you abnormal,
Because you are a vampire who feeds upon humans,
And also kidnaps, rapes and murders them,
But that's a natural behavior for your kind,
And you shouldn't let society dictate your values."
Alma was overjoyed, and came over to hug me.
"Yeah, us vampires aren't so bad, doctor!
We are smart, we can make good friends,
And we have lots of fun!
I can even help out humanity
By keeping their numbers low;
It would solve the troubles of overpopulation."
Our session ended shortly after,
But Alma assured me she would come again.
"Can I find you just to talk," she asked,
"I mean as friends, not as my therapist?"
She had sounded so adorable.
"Of course! Come talk to me whenever.
I'm always so happy to see you."
Alma's expression became sadder.
"Doctor, can you tell me something for free?"
"What's wrong?"
"Do you really think I'll make it out okay?"
"Well, you've survived this far, and you're
A very strong and determined woman.
If you keep working hard, you'll be fine."
Alma grinned, and climbed onto the windowsill.
"If there's anything you need, doctor,
Tell me the next time we see each other.
My guys will bring you any kind of supplies.
They're good at getting things for free."
I waved, and watched her as she flew off.
She looked just like Superman,
Or I guess any superhero who could fly.
Being a vampire truly was magical.
A month later, a new patient came to my office.
She was a sexy goth girl in her late teens.
She explained that she belonged to a group
Of followers, or a gang: 'The Vampires of Blood'.
They were a bunch of teens who admired Alma.
"We are so thrilled to have her as our leader!"
They followed her around like puppies,
And tried to be as sweet and polite as possible.
"Please let us feed upon your veins, Alma!"
This girl told me this as if she had invented it,
But I could tell she needed to open up
About her after school activities
That she could be in trouble for revealing.
I was pleased to hear Alma was doing fine.
A month and a half later, in the evening,
I had gone out for a run
When a limousine stopped next to me.
Two huge bodybuilders came out,
Both wearing expensive steel grey suits.
"Please, doctor, come with us.
The queen has invited you to dinner."
"Oh! You mean Alma! How is she?"
The big guy was dumbfounded by my smile.
I guess most people were terrified of her.
"The queen is always very busy;
There's lot of problems in this city,
And many people who want her assets.
However, she's on top of them all,
So you could say she's doing fine."
He opened the door and I got in.
I sat between two scantily clad girls
Who started rubbing me all over
While a butler-looking guy sitting in front
Offered me a glass of bubbling champagne.
"Nice to meet you, doctor," the butler said,
"I'm Alma's, our queen's, right hand man.
We know all about you, of course,
How you freed her from her shackles
So she could fulfill her destiny as our leader.
She always keeps people making sure
That no one bothers you or harms you,
And I know she's just waiting
For you to accept to receive her gifts;
She goes on about this or that you would like.
I would believe if you were truly her father!"
I was so touched I could barely speak,
So I drank some of that tasty champagne.
One of the girls slid her delicate hand
Down my boxers, and jerked me off.
The butler observed her performance.
"Alma ordered to give you pleasure
And make you feel like a king."
They drained me twice before we arrived
At the tallest high-rise building in town,
And we took the elevator to the last floor.
We exited into a large, dim restaurant
With numerous mirrors and crystal chandeliers.
The polished marble floors reflected every light.
As I walked through the deserted restaurant,
I was already astonished when I spotted Alma.
She was sitting at a table, waiting for me.
She wore an elegant, black slip dress
That seemed to be made of silk and satin,
And fit her perfect, toned figure.
Her long dark hair flowed down to her waist.
She had painted her lips midnight black,
Which contrasted with her pearl white skin,
And she had the confident gaze of a monarch.
I had never seen her look so beautiful,
Like a goddess who lived in heaven
On top of the highest mountain peak,
Reaching for the stars.
I noticed the guards, still as posts,
Dressed with black suits and holding guns.
The waiter that came seemed nervous;
Alma looked so self-assured,
And exuded such an aura of danger,
And could murder everyone in the room,
But for me she was my good old patient.
"Hello, doctor!" she said happily,
"I hope you enjoyed your ride."
"Oh, it was wonderful. I came two times."
"Do you like this place? Fancy, yes?"
"Amazing, more like it. It's yours, I guess."
Alma winked.
"I own the entire building."
I waiter brought us two golden goblets.
He filled mine with more champagne,
But Alma's he filled to the brim with blood.
After she sipped it, she licked a drop
That glistened at the corner of her mouth.
The appetizers consisted of caviar with toast,
Smoked salmon served on crackers,
Fried oysters, and crab legs.
To my surprise, Alma ate them as well,
So I saw fit to comment on it.
"I thought that human food didn't work."
"For me they are as nutritious as jellybeans,
But that doesn't mean I dislike eating them."
I was buzzed, our conversation was lively.
She was lighthearted, funny and playful.
We laughed and enjoyed each other's company.
I could tell that her hirelings were surprised.
The waiter brought the main course:
Roast beef stuffed with mushrooms.
As I brought a forkful of it to my mouth
Then chewed on the juicy meat,
Alma rested her chin on her hands
And smiled playfully.
"Can you guess what kind of meat that is?"
I swallowed my bite, then guessed,
"It didn't come from a cow, did it."
She nodded. "Her name was Leire,
The most beautiful redhead I've seen,
Whose blood tasted like ambrosia."
I sighed, then chewed on another forkful.
"She tastes delicious. I can see the appeal.
But why would you have slaughtered her?"
Alma looked sad, and shook her head.
"I didn't! I wanted her as a blood bag,
But one day she cut her own neck.
I have no clue where she got that knife.
All her blood, dirty and pooled on the floor!
What a horrible waste."
I drank more of my champagne.
"That is truly a tragedy."
"Yes, so at least I could honor her
By making sure her body nourished me,
Or you, for that matter, whom I love so much."
I blushed. Her eyes were so alluring,
Not to mention all her power and resources.
"Alma, what a beautiful creature you are.
I'm blessed to call you my friend."
She fidgeted with the rim of her goblet.
"Don't you wonder why I invited you?"
"Not really. You can invite me just to talk,
Or just because you want to see me.
You don't need any particular reason."
She smiled, and drained her glass.
"Doctor, you always brighten my mood!
But I wanted to offer you a gift,
Or at least the first in a long series."
"A gift! What is it then?"
Her eyes glistened, and she licked her lips.
"I offer you the gift of immortality,
To become a vampire just like me."
For a few seconds I only heard our breathing.
I stabbed a morsel of my meal, and savoured it.
The rich, succulent juices ran down my throat.
"Alma, I truly appreciate your kindness,
But I prefer to remain mortal,
Even if becoming immortal sounds nice."
The butler gasped, and gaped at me.
"D-do you understand what honor that is?!
The queen hasn't converted anyone yet!"
Alma raised a finger, and the butler shut up.
When Alma returned her hand to the table,
Her fingers were trembling, but not from anger.
"Doctor, have you truly considered growing old,
Then just dying as if you were never here?"
"I've thought about my wife and kids losing me,
But I've found ways to keep myself sane."
"How?" she asked in a sad voice.
"I drink too much wine, take lots of naps."
She snorted, and I smiled kindly.
"Death isn't something to fear.
Nothing bad happens to you anymore."
She narrowed her eyes, deep in thought,
And I sipped on my champagne.
"My dear Alma, we can try forever,
But we will never change our nature,
And if you try to escape it,
You will forever pay the consequences.
People must stay true to themselves,
And everything else will fall into place.
I'm already doing what I was meant to.
I'm an ordinary man with ordinary concerns.
I live to solve my patients' problems,
And then return home to my cozy family.
You said I would disappear as if I was never here,
But my most successful patient will remain,
And I'm sure you will remember me to the end."
Alma hung her head low,
And her tears dripped on the tablecloth.
The butler held his breath and stepped back,
And the guards exchanged looks nervously.
When Alma raised her head, she was smiling,
And didn't bother wiping her tears.
"I understand.
You know, doctor, I was depressed forever.
Ever since I was a little girl,
I felt trapped in a prison cell.
I thought I was destined to be miserable.
Now, I'm more free than anyone.
I've ceased to be bound by rules.
I can fuck and eat whoever I want.
I will never starve nor feel weak again,
Because I can drain whole fucking herds.
I've become famous, rich and unstoppable."
I had to wipe my own tears.
"Oh! I'm so proud of you, Alma."
Her smile brightened the room,
And she warmed my hand with hers.
"Thank you, doctor. You saved my life.
But will you accept other kinds of gifts?"
"Of course! Feel free to give me whatever."
Two days later, I had a strange dream:
I was sitting on my black leather chair
When it started spinning faster and faster.
I heard myself screaming,
And I ended up flying through the air.
I kept going and going, very far.
I knew that when I fell back to earth,
I would hit it hard and it would hurt badly.
Still, I wasn't scared.
I looked down at the skyscrapers below,
And all those ant-sized people walking around.
They seemed so small and unimportant.
I was a giant with enormous power.
I could crush them easily and without fear,
And let the wind carry their screams away.
I decided to try flying higher,
So I zoomed towards the clouds.
The darkness crept in,
And I panicked until I saw the stars,
That were millions of miles apart.
I wondered if I could float between them.
Before I knew it, I was floating among the stars.
Among the spinning planets,
I recognized Saturn and Jupiter.
I realized I had been holding hands with a boy,
And he pulled me closer
And his lips pressed against mine
Then I felt him sink his fangs into my neck.
He drained me dry
As I drifted away in space.
It's been twenty years since I first met Alma.
We keep meeting each other every few months.
Sometimes she comes to hang out with my family,
Or else she brings me to exciting, expensive places.
My house is filled with many of her gifts;
I don't remember how she gave me plenty of them,
But my family often goes to our summer villas
That Alma bought for us in France, Italy and Malta.
She even paid for my two youngest's college.
It always makes me happy to see
That Alma hasn't aged a day.
If I ever get bored of Alma's gifts,
I think I may paint myself blue,
Or dye my hair bright pink,
And start playing dress up games.
Perhaps I may try being a cat,
Or a dog, or a horse.
Alma ceased to be my patient,
And instead she became my beloved friend,
A brilliant case study on how people flourish
When they live out their full potential.
THE END
August 10, 2021
Alma: a Successful Case Study, Pt. 1 (Poetry)
Link for this poem on my personal page, where it looks better
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---
When Alma entered my office for therapy,
I was stunned by her pearl white skin,
Her hopeless, dead, dark eyes,
And her anemic, almost anorexic body
Covered in a T-shirt and sweatpants.
After our initial greetings, I said,
"With a simple look I would have suggested
To make an appointment with a doctor,
Because you must have a physical issue,
But you told my secretary that you did,
And that they found nothing wrong with you."
Alma sighed deeply, then said,
"Yes, there seems to be no physical reason
For why I feel this way.
They said it's all psychological,
That my anxiety and depression
Are just a result of stress from life."
Alma's voice was thin, slow and labored,
As if pushing the words out exhausted her.
She sounded like a robot in distress,
Who was somehow on the verge of tears.
"How long have you been suffering like this?"
"Oh, ever since I was a little kid," she said with a sigh,
"Although I remember a couple of normal years,
Then I came down with this depression and lethargy
As if something had switched on in my genes.
Ever since, I always felt like everything inside had died."
"How old are you now?" I asked.
"Twenty two," she answered, "but I feel much older."
"Do you think it could be hereditary?"
"I don't think so, even my grandparents are full of life.
I swear, I have no idea where I must have come from."
She told me she had no friends at all,
Or anyone who truly cared about her.
Alma's look of exhaustion was frustratingly familiar;
I'd seen it on other patients over the years,
That haunting despondency and despair,
And the prognosis was rarely good.
"Have you done drugs? Alcohol? Other substances?"
"No, sir. I've been clean as a whistle,
No drugs unless you count coffee,
And I must drink four or five cups a day,
Because I often feel about to pass out from tiredness."
"Have you tried any other treatments? Any medications?"
"Many times," she replied,
"We went through every test imaginable:
MRI, EEG, bone density scan, X-ray.
All showed me perfectly healthy."
Alma became more exhausted as she talked,
Like she was running on empty.
"I've missed apointments," she said,
"And even worse, I fell asleep during tests,
Which made me drop out of high school."
Alma sniffled, then had to dry a tear.
"I need help, sir," she said in a pitiful voice,
"Because I have no idea how I will survive
Having to endure such a mortifying depression
When I barely have the energy to get out of bed."
"What else are you experiencing?" I asked.
"Well, I always feel weak all over,
My arms and legs, and especially my throat.
I can hardly hold anything to eat,
Partly because many foods taste foul.
Sometimes I even gag and choke.
However, the doctors discarded allergies."
"Have you ever been hospitalized?"
"Just once for a week, when I was twelve.
I was diagnosed with an eating disorder.
I was very skinny then, like a stick figure."
"What was your diagnosis?"
"Anorexia nervosa.
My parents were horrified,
But what else could they do?"
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.
I felt that I was missing some vital detail.
"How are you spending most days, Alma?"
"I usually stay in my childhood bedroom,
All alone, without any friends to talk to.
I mostly listen to music,
But even that fills me with dread,
Because each song is just a dirge,
A funeral march for the soul."
Alma broke into tears.
Although I wanted to comfort her,
I admit her plight seemed hopeless.
"I know you feel weak, but have you tried exercise,
Even just taking walks around the neighborhood?"
"When I was younger, I wanted to be outside,
But the light of the sun bothers me too much.
Although afterwards I ran inside, on a treadmill,
I ended up drained after a few minutes.
I'm too tired to go anywhere, or to do anything."
"Do you have other interests, hobbies?"
"I'm fond of movies, science fiction and fantasy,
Tales that deal with aliens and monsters.
I was a fan of Star Wars, Doctor Who and X-Files,
But now I rarely watch television or movies,
Because of what happens when I try to sleep."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"In my dreams I relive stressful scenes
From all that fiction I otherwise enjoyed.
For example that episode of Doctor Who
Where a monster sucks out the Doctor's brain,
Which causes him to transform into a fiend.
I'm afraid of the monster coming for me next,
So I wake up screaming, and wanting to be dead.
Anything would be better than this awful pain!"
I shifted my weight in my chair;
I was troubled by her lifelong struggle.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"Please do, sir. I want to figure things out."
"Are you sexually active?"
"No, sir. I haven't dated anyone."
"How about masturbation?"
"Sir, I really don't want to talk about that."
"Alright. Is there anybody special in your life,
Someone you care deeply about?"
"Well... I've been attracted to some guys,
But who would want to be with me?
I'm the worst downer, and I can't do anything.
They would need to become my caretakers."
Alma looked at me with her desperate eyes.
"I feel like I'm not meant to be alive.
I wish I could just fall asleep and die.
I must have done something wrong in my past life,
Or I would have been born in better circumstances."
Alma sobbed loudly, then calmed down.
"Please excuse my lack of manners.
I am ashamed that I cry so much."
I tried to soothe her with my tone.
"Those are understandable feelings,
But I suspect we have missed a source.
You said that you lived a couple of normal years?"
"Yes, before I began having these problems."
"Did you enjoy those times?"
"Of course! It was a wonderful time of innocence.
I had so much fun, and everyone loved me."
"Did everything change one day?" I asked.
"Yes, one afternoon I woke up in a park.
I couldn't remember how I got there."
Alma took a deep breath,
And wiped away another tear.
"Somehow, that event changed me.
I started feeling strange and isolated."
"Did anyone check you for wounds?"
"Yes, and I told the regular doctors.
Two puncture wounds on my arm,
Which disappeared after a week.
But I lacked other physical issues;
All the test came out correct,
So they said I must be mentally ill."
I shook my head, but I was content.
"Those doctors focus on their fields of expertise,
Which makes them discard obvious conclusions.
Alma, I'm afraid I know why you are ill:
You contracted vampirism as a child."
Alma slumped in her chair, dumbfounded,
Then only managed to say, "What."
I gave her a calming gesture.
"I know it's a lot to take in,
But your lethargy and weakness
Are caused because you aren't eating,
Or at least getting the needed nourishment
That sucking someone's blood provides."
Alma stared at me, wide-eyed with shock.
I explained her predicament further,
"Vampires are creatures of the night
Who live on blood, and must feed regularly.
If you're not drinking blood often,
Your body starts to atrophy and wither,
And you end up looking like a corpse.
You likely remain alive to whatever extent
Because human food is sustaining you."
Her gaze was unfocused, she looked lost.
I filled the silence for her.
"You might have trouble believing they exist,
But there's plenty of evidence out there.
If you read books like 'Twilight', 'True Blood',
'Interview With the Vampire', or 'Dracula',
You'll see all kinds of proof."
Alma nodded slowly.
"You don't have to convince me,
I already knew they existed."
"Really? How so?"
"On Halloween, when I was six years old,
I was walking home from trick or treating,
And saw a group of children gathered together.
One boy told them he was Dracula,
And showed his fangs to the rest.
His face was pale, and his lips were blue.
He was covered in sweat and smelled bad.
One of the girls of the group screamed,
But the rest just stood there terrified.
I ran away, hid behind a bush and cried."
"Did you ever talk about this with anyone?"
"No, I was too ashamed to tell," Alma said.
"You can confide in me, I won't judge you."
Alma sniffled. "Thank you, doctor."
"Haven't you suspected you were one?
Haven't you noticed a thrill running through
Whenever you stare at a sexy, bare neck?"
She was flabbergasted, and let out a noise
As if she suddenly experienced an epiphany.
"W-well, yes, but I thought it was a sexual thing."
"It can be both vampiric and sexual,
But that's your cursed impulses telling you
That you should sink your teeth into that flesh,
Mainly to feed on the nutritious blood.
I guess your urges have been suppressed
By culture, religion, and maybe your parents,
Who didn't want their daughter to be a freak."
Alma hung her head low.
"Is there a cure for vampirism, doctor?"
"No, I'm afraid it's like herpes."
"How so?"
"There's no known cure for either disease.
You'll always be a vampire."
Alma covered her pale face,
And let out a noise of despair.
She stared at me with sad eyes,
Then she stood up forcefully
While streams of tears ran down her face.
"I need to search around for a stake,
Or any equivalent implement,
Because I intend to kill myself tonight,
Before I lose the courage to resist.
Goodbye, doctor. Thank you for the help."
She rushed to the door and opened it.
"Wait!" I shouted, but she left.
I caught up with her in the hall.
"Listen to me, Alma, you are a good person,
And I believe in you. Don't give up hope."
Alma bent over and sobbed loudly.
"I'd rather die than turn into a monster!"
I rubbed her shoulder to calm her down.
"I am here for you anytime you need me,
So please, don't do anything rash."
She wiped her tears and looked down.
"I guess nothing matters for me anymore.
This world has no use for vampires,
So I can't ever date, let alone marry."
"You said that you don't want to turn into one,
But you've been a vampire since you were a child.
You don't understand: vampires are rare beings,
Different from the rest of the undead.
You retain your human intellect,
And that means you may find someone to love,
And even build a family some day."
Alma's tearful gaze looked straight at me.
"I don't know what to do, I feel so lost.
I doubt you're right,
But for a while I guess I can try
To become used to this nightmare
As a member of the cursed undead."
"Unfortunately, you can't choose a reality you prefer.
You'll suffer until you embrace that you are a vampire."
Alma's gaze was distant, she was lost in her thoughts.
"You referred to vampires as monsters," I said,
"But monsters just kill indiscriminately.
Vampires need to feed on living creatures,
Which makes them more humane than murderers.
Outward appearances can be decieving.
Take Dracula, for example:
His teeth may have looked sharp,
But he also wore soft leather shoes,
And under his cape he carried a cell phone.
Furthermore, Dracula was quite smart,
Although he had a terrible temper.
He was able to use science and technology,
Like hypnotism and hypnosis machines,
And he mastered modern medical techniques.
No, he wasn't a monster; he was a hero.
A true gentleman, and a brilliant scientist."
"How does that prove that vampires are less evil?"
"Dracula didn't cause harm to people.
He merely wanted to protect them,
By making them believe he wasn't real,
And by offering them a reprieve.
Even though he drank their blood,
The victims remained healthy.
In fact, the victims became stronger,
Due to the nutrients stored in their bodies.
Dracula also helped heal many wounded soldiers
From World War One, and even went as far
As giving blood transfusions to save lives."
Alma listened silently as I spoke.
"A vampire isn't necessarily a villain.
Sometimes they're kind and compassionate,
Such as Count Chocula, or Peter Pan,
Or maybe even Frankenstein's monster.
Whether they're good or evil depends
Upon what they're trying to accomplish."
I leaned on my desk and I stared intently.
"I know how hard this news may seem,
But I urge you to accept it anyway.
Why fight against your fate?
Your future lies ahead of you.
The first step to becoming healthy again
Is for you to embrace your vampiric nature.
Then you'll start living properly,
Instead of just surviving."
Alma looked at me with sad eyes.
"My body is weak, my mind is slow,
But if you truly believe I'll improve,
I guess I could try for a while.
But how do I go about fulfilling that purpose?"
"First, you'll need to drink some blood."
"Can't I just drink animal blood?"
"I don't know. Probably,
But your nature urges you to bite humans,
So at least you should figure out how that goes."
"S-so what, I'll look for a place to hide in the dark,
And wait for a victim to come along,
Then I'll attack and feed upon them?"
"I was thinking you could just seduce a guy.
I'm sure many would go for it.
Once you are doing the deed, bite his neck.
He may even enjoy it."
Alma smiled. "That sounds like fun."
She stood up from her chair.
"Let me get started right away!"
She left feeling uplifted, hopeful,
And promising she would return soon.
When she finally reappeared,
I was astonished at her sudden change.
Alma was smiling, and looked cheery
With a sparkle in her eyes.
Although she needed months of sun
To improve her extreme paleness,
She had lost those bags under her eyes,
She sat with her back straight,
And she was wearing jeans
And a flamingo pink hoodie
That exposed a bit of her midriff.
"I have a boyfriend, doctor.
Things have changed so much!"
"That's wonderful, Alma.
So this is someone you approached to feed?"
"Yes! I was wandering around at night
And I got into a random party.
This cute guy was looking my way,
Maybe even checking me out.
We talked for a while about Doctor Who,
Then he wanted to take me out to see a concert.
Afterwards, I dared to kiss him first.
We had sex the next day, and it was then
When I plunged my teeth into his neck.
His blood tasted so sweet
That I couldn't stop myself
From sinking my fangs deep into his flesh.
I felt like I was in heaven,
My body tingling all over."
"I'm proud of your initiative.
So did you feel any different later?"
"I felt great! It was like an energy rush,
Like my mind suddenly became sharper,
And I had been dehydrated for months.
Afterwards I could barely believe
That I had resisted drinking blood until now."
"Alright, what does your boyfriend think about it?"
"He says that I am crazy, no way I'm a vampire,
But I I think it feels real good for him
When I bite him while he's inside me."
I took a long sip from my coffee mug.
"Have you suffered from depression in the meantime?"
Alma's smile faltered.
"Although I have way more energy,
I can tell that I have developed mental issues
From the many years I've been rejecting my nature.
But that's why I come for therapy, right?"
"It may be nothing more than a placebo effect.
You're just happy because you have a boyfriend."
"That's not true, I'm happier than ever before!"
Alma smiled again as if she was in love.
"I have a new outlook on life,
A new perspective,
And I don't need to hide anymore.
I can become who I really want to be:
A happy, healthy, vampiric woman!"
"What do you suggest we do next, Alma?
Should we practice seduction techniques?"
Alma's face lit up as she grinned.
"No, I want to return to my boyfriend.
I need to taste his blood, to feed."
I wanted to give her a big hug,
But I had been warned about touching my patients.
"My door will always be open for you, Alma.
I will always listen to whatever you want to discuss."
She beamed, and a giggle escaped her mouth.
"After they told me that my problems were psychological,
I was too embarrassed to discuss them with anybody,
Especially with my parents, but even with a stranger.
I didn't want to feel like I needed to be locked up."
She wiped one eye with her sleeve, then continued,
"But I was an idiot! I should have come for therapy sooner.
If my parents had brought me as a child
I wouldn't deal with this chronic shame and despair,
Due to so many years suffering in silence,
Hiding my pain, pretending it wasn't real."
A warm sensation spread in my chest.
"Fortunately, that's all in the past.
Now that we've figured out your true nature,
You can finally begin to live."
The next time Alma showed up in my office,
She was wearing a risky crop top shirt,
With a V-neck that emphasized her small tits.
Her yoga pants were as tight as they come,
And they accentuated her slender frame.
She was wearing sunglasses indoors.
Her easy smile made me shiver.
She told me that her moods had improved,
And that she had started exercising regularly.
"More importantly, I'm getting my fill of blood,
Because I feed from a few people every night!"
"How do you achieve that?" I asked, curious.
"For new blood, I just cruise the nightlife.
I've become attractive enough
That I can simply suggest that I want sex,
And I can choose between different men.
I've gained a whole collection of people
Whom I can call whenever I'm hungry,
And they just let me into their houses
And they fuck me while I suck their blood."
"How many people do you need
To satiate your thirst until you feel full?"
"Oh, about three, and that involves
Leaving enough blood in them,
Because otherwise they might pass out,
Or, you know, just die."
"I see. And how is the sex?"
"It's amazing! They're so excited,
They cum so hard when I bite them,
But I need to control myself;
I can end up sucking them dry.
Either way, I get what I need,
By feeding off a lot of people.
My life is so much better, doctor."
I realized I had forgotten something.
"Does your boyfriend accept you
Feeding on different people every night,
Not to mention having sex with them?"
Alma was confused for a moment.
"My boyfriend...? Ah, that guy.
No, he was just the first person
Whom I managed to fuck and feed upon.
I'm dealing with many people these days.
Even girls; if one of them ogles me,
I have no issue going somewhere with her
And biting her neck, her thighs,
Or whatever she wants sucked."
"Well, you look fantastic, certainly,
As if you are doing really well.
What about your lethargy and depression?"
"All that's totally gone,
I've felt more energetic and alert.
I'm like a completely new person.
I guess the cure was becoming myself."
"I'm glad to hear that.
So many patients feel ashamed
When they come to my office
And discuss their issues.
You are a model patient, Alma.
I hope you continue to succeed."
Alma smiled warmly at me.
"Thank you so much, doctor,
For patiently listening to me rant,
And for helping me this much."
I waved my hand, but I was touched.
"Oh, please, don't mention it.
Honestly, I just enjoy talking to young women.
My patients are usually younger than me,
And I'm fascinated by their problems.
Not many people my age treat me nicely."
"In fact, I'd love to tell everyone
About how great it feels to be a vampire,
If only to help shed light on
This weird taboo society we live in."
"I'm sure people will listen to you, Alma.
Your problem is just too interesting
For most people to ignore."
Alma smirked at me, and tilted her head.
"So... do you want to feel my teeth
As they plunge into your neck, doctor?"
I felt a shiver down my spine.
"I can't interact with patients in such a way;
Another strike and I may lose my license."
One afternoon, as I was preparing to leave
Because I didn't expect any patient,
My secretary called me on the interphone.
"Alma, that vampire patient of yours,
Insists on speaking to you urgently.
She's waiting right in front of my desk."
I hadn't imagined Alma doing this;
She always called a week in advance.
"Alright, let her in."
When Alma walked into my office
And then locked the door behind her,
I could tell something was wrong.
She was wearing her usual sunglasses,
But also an old hoodie and sweatpants.
Her hair was messy, barely tied up.
She smelled of sweat and possibly blood.
August 7, 2021
You Choose Who Owns You, Pt. 3 (Poetry)
She started lubricating carefully
The length of the plastic penis
With big, oily globs of lube;
That vision pulled me out of my trance,
Of my mind's attempts at evading reality.
My heart pounded in fear and dread,
And I folded my knees towards my chest.
"No, none of that!" I pleaded weakly.
She snorted as she adjusted the harness,
Then she stroked the plastic cock
While she stared down at me defiantly.
"I will fuck you like a whore.
You will feel that pleasure, that pain.
You will learn how it feels to be a girl."
She climbed onto the bed,
Then put a hand on my knee,
Pushed it aside and slapped my ass.
Her breasts were shaking as if laughing
At the thought of what she was about to do.
The panic was strangling me.
"I beg you, please! I don't want that!"
The woman was kneeling in front
Of my two closed legs
As she rested her palms on my knees.
Her face was flushed with excitement,
And her eyes glinted like a predator's.
"This is my weapon, and I will use it.
I will find out how much of this thing
That new pussy of yours can take.
Women enjoy having their vaginas
Penetrated by big cocks, don't they?
They moan with pleasure
When men thrust in their insides."
She grinned and slipped her hand
Between my thighs to rub my genitals.
Her voice was rough and commanding.
"You are already wet, my slut.
This pussy is getting tired of waiting
For her owner's dick to enter it."
She rubbed my clitoris,
Making me pant with shame and lust.
I understood she wouldn't relent;
She had already broken most of my self.
Still, I screamed and trashed around.
When she pushed my legs apart,
My muscles were too weak to resist,
But before I knew it, I kicked her,
And one of my toenails scratched her neck.
I gasped, and held my breath,
Because the woman had frozen
And her eyes had gone cold.
Blood was beading on the cut.
I was terrified of the punishment,
Which I knew she would inflict,
And she didn't need to say a word
About how much she could hurt me.
She sighed, her gaze softened,
Then she stroked my head.
"You are so cute when you try to escape."
Shortly after, she pulled out cuffs
From under the sides of the mattress
And fastened them around my ankles,
Then tightened those chains
Until I was stuck spread-eagled.
My body was completely at her mercy.
I was shivering and crying hard
In hot streams that poured into my earholes.
My lips were trembling uncontrollably.
The woman kneeled underneath my thighs,
Then leaned forward and cupped my face.
She rubbed her fingers along my cheekbone.
She kissed my closed lips tenderly,
Although she would taste her own pee.
"My little pet, look at me.
I'm the architect of your current form,
I'm the one who has given you a pussy.
Besides, your life had already ended.
You had no clue what to do with yourself.
Someone must decide what's good for you."
I felt my chest constrict with fear
As my heart was pounding loudly.
I shook my head again and again
While I blubbered like a child.
I felt the plastic cockhead, and flinched,
But the woman chuckled.
"You think you are still a man,
When you are crying this much?"
She pressed her weight on me,
Squeezing her breasts against mine.
The plastic glans nestled in the labia
Of the genitals she had given me.
Her face hovered centimeters above mine.
She breathed deeply, warmly on my lips.
I couldn't move, I whimpered in fear.
She slowly licked the tears from my cheek.
"You can't defend yourself against me.
I can do with you whatever I want.
You are weak, physically and mentally.
You were meant to be subservient to me.
Don't worry, I won't injure my little pet.
Stop struggling pointlessly, and surrender.
You will start feeling much better."
She rested her cheek on mine
And her fingers dug into my scalp
As I felt the plastic cockhead
Slowly sliding inside me.
"Please, stop! Stop!"
My voice was agonized and hoarse.
"Sweet girl," she whispered in my ear,
"Your body is a temple of pleasure.
Let me give you what you deserve."
Her fingers were digging into my hair.
The dildo had advanced about two centimeters
When I suddenly felt a sharp, intense pain
As if something had broken inside me.
"You aren't a virgin anymore," she said.
As the foreign object penetrated me,
Sinking deeper and deeper,
I felt as if she was stabbing me
With a thick, slimy pole.
I heard the blood rushing to my ears,
And the intense pain made me dizzy.
I could feel my vagina being stretched.
She kissed me softly on the temple
And then whispered in my ear:
"That's right, just relax and let me in."
She kept pushing her hips into mine
As my restrained knees ached with strain.
My eyes were shut tight
While my mind was curled up in a ball,
But I had stopped writhing and whining,
And moans escaped from my throat.
I wanted to hold them in,
I tried to concentrate on my breathing,
Because I hated how good it felt.
She had taken away all of my strength,
And she was using me like a toy.
I knew that I deserved this fate.
I needed to be punished more;
I craved my own suffering.
As the woman's pelvis ground against me,
I started panting with pleasure.
A strange sensation of warmth and wetness
Spread through my whole body.
She fondled and sucked on my breasts
While she pulled the cock slowly
Only to push it deep again,
Which made me groan and shiver.
The woman leaned over me.
Her forehead was beaded with sweat,
And she was breathing hard.
"You are my slut, aren't you?"
My legs were trembling.
"Answer me," she ordered,
"Are you my slut or not?
I can tell that you are loving this."
I cried out, then nodded.
"I'm your little slut," I mumbled.
"I can't hear you. Louder."
"Yes! I love it! I'm a slut!"
She smiled at my response,
Then she leaned down and kissed me.
Her tongue invaded my mouth.
For a moment I wanted to bite it,
To tear her tongue out,
Although I knew she would kill me,
Or maybe precisely because she would.
But I closed my lips around her tongue
And sucked on it as if it were her clit.
When the woman pulled away,
Her face was twisted with lust.
"You make me so fucking horny.
Beg me to make you come."
My whole body was shuddering.
"Fuck me harder, Mistress!
Make me come. I need it!"
She kissed me and hugged me tight
As she slammed her pelvis against mine.
I felt like I was drowning in a sea of pleasure.
"Come for me, my little slut," she ordered.
I was screaming and moaning.
My entire body was quivering.
I wanted her to keep fucking me forever.
The ebbs and flows of sexual energy
Turned into overwhelming waves
That made my spine arch upwards
And my eyes roll back.
The next thing I remember,
She had freed me from the four cuffs,
She had wrapped her arms around me
And she was nibbling slowly on my earlobe.
I took a deep breath, disoriented,
And the woman hummed with pleasure.
"Fucking you is something else.
I've never felt this close to someone,
Besides, you are the cutest as a girl."
She planted soft kisses on my cheek
As her fingertips drifted over my abdomen.
The bedroom smelled of sex and pee.
I was dazed, and burning with shame.
I despised her for how she made me feel.
I couldn't believe I had moaned like a girl.
I wanted to turn invisible, or disappear.
Was I really a man?
How could I have become so weak?
What I wanted most was to run away from her,
But I feared that she would find me again.
As I stared up at the ceiling
And listened to our hearts beating,
The woman sat upright and got off the bed.
She stretched and spoke brightly.
"Your tummy needs to be filled with solid food.
It's been weeks since your last decent meal.
I'll prepare you something for dinner,
But I warn you: I'm used to eating unhealthily,
Because preparing food bores me out of my mind.
That single dinner you made so lovingly for me
Has made me daydream about all the food
You'll prepare for us for the many years to come."
She left her torture chamber,
Abandoning me there naked,
Ashamed, sullied with dried piss.
My stomach did growl in hunger,
Likely because she had mentioned food.
I curled up on the bed,
While my mind tumbled over itself
About how I could escape.
Would she chase after me and kill me?
I knew I couldn't rely on the police;
They would never believe I was a man,
Let alone a forty years old one.
The government may know about her work,
Which must have been classified,
So if they found out she had transformed me,
It may be convenient to make me disappear.
I sat up, but I kept shaking.
It hurt to move my limbs.
When I gathered enough strength,
I stumbled to the nearest bathroom
And washed the woman's pee,
As well as her pussy juices,
Off my new, delicate face.
I avoided staring at the stranger
That the mirror insisted on showing me.
I plopped down on the toilet seat,
Because I was hyperventilating.
My heart was racing, my stomach churning.
I left the faucet running
So the sound would conceal my sobs.
I heard the woman's words in my mind,
Mocking me because men shouldn't cry.
I shuffled up to the kitchen,
And huddled against the door jamb
As if to hide my naked shame.
The woman has humming contentedly
While she filleted a mackerel at the counter,
Her back turned towards me.
She had tied up her hair in an elaborate ponytail,
And was wearing a cream-colored satin kimono
That barely covered half of her shapely thighs.
I found myself admiring the curves of her ass.
She turned around; her kimono was open,
And only partially covered the nipples
Of her firm, bare breasts.
She looked so delicious that I began to salivate.
I felt the blood rushing to my pelvis,
Although my body ached like it had been beaten.
The woman bit her lower lip
While she ogled the body she had created
As if she planned to eat me for dessert.
I gulped, and dared to speak.
"W-where are my clothes?"
"What clothes, baby?" she asked casually.
"T-the clothes I was wearing that night.
My wallet too, with my money and cards."
The woman smiled patiently.
"Those clothes belonged to a dead man."
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
I looked around as if to spot my stuff.
"I threw them out weeks ago," she said,
"And besides, don't I keep this house warm?"
I felt dizzy and weak.
"I-I need to wear something..."
"A pet doesn't need to wear clothes.
Just one little, convenient accessory."
She patted my shoulder as she passed by.
My ears rang while I stood there paralyzed
Until I felt her approaching me from behind.
She put a leathery band around my neck,
Then she fastened it carefully.
She fondled my ass as she kissed my ear.
"You only need a collar that identifies you
As your owner's property," she whispered.
There was no point in complaining.
My throat was dry, and I was trembling.
She took my stillness for consent,
Or I guess that she didn't care,
And she kissed me on the lips
Until my mouth opened to let her inside.
It was a soft, gentle kiss
That made my whole body shudder.
I was in shock, I could barely focus my gaze,
As I sat naked on a dining chair
Next to the woman who had castrated me,
Who had made me feel things
For which I should hide in shame.
I was eating her miso mackerel with brown rice.
I ate it slowly and carefully;
It was tasty, but I mainly needed the strength.
I had to figure out how to steal some clothes
And escape out of her dungeon
Into the streets of this gloomy, rainy evening.
The woman was eating her fish.
Her fingers were dexterous and agile.
She sliced off every morsel,
And then she swallowed it down.
I kept glancing down at her exposed thighs,
At the fair skin that seemed to glow
In the light of the kitchen lamp.
I looked away, pretending to be absorbed
By the food on my plate,
But I could not stop thinking about sex.
My mind was filled with images of her pussy.
I was desperate to touch it, lick it,
To bury my fingers deep inside her
And fuck her as hard as I could
With the dick I used to have.
Whenever she stared at me from my right
I felt that she could read my thoughts.
My body seemed to crave her attentions;
It needed her touch, those tingles she caused.
"Are you enjoying your dinner?" she asked.
I gulped, the hairs on my nape stood up.
I nodded silently, and she stroked my head.
I wanted to suckle her tender nipples.
I wanted to crawl into her lap
And give her purple dick a blowjob.
I trembled under her smile.
"I'm so glad you're enjoying being my pet."
After we put the empty plates in the dishwasher,
For a while I tolerated her caresses and kisses.
"I need to do some stuff on the computer,"
The woman said as she fondled me,
"So keep yourself occupied, alright?
Don't worry, you'll be fully mine tonight,
As you will again and again."
I couldn't believe my luck,
That she would let me out of her sight.
I skulked naked around her house
Until I found the laundry room,
And a basket filled with her used clothes.
Before I knew it, I was sniffing her panties;
I craved the scent of her sweat and juices.
I chose a wrinkled blouse and manly trousers,
And I dressed myself with them to escape.
As I gritted my teeth, I unlatched the collar
And threw it furiously on the floor.
I sneaked silently up to the front door,
But I felt her sharp gaze piercing my nape.
There she was, with her hand on a door jamb,
As she watched me try to abandon her.
I had assumed I would face her fury,
But her gaze was soft, and worried.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
My muscles were trembling,
And I could barely breathe.
I waggled the door handle,
But although I tried frantically,
The woman had locked me in.
The woman produced her keychain,
Then approached me calmly
To place her keys on my palm.
I was sure she would mock my attempt,
That she would snatch her keys back,
Then prove her strength
By grabbing me by the neck
And chaining me again to her BDSM bed,
But she dropped her right arm
And offered me an understanding gaze.
I felt like an insect under a boot.
For me, she was as powerful as a god,
Armed with an alien determination.
"Y-you aren't going to stop me?"
She smiled, and caressed my cheek.
"You think that I want a slave?
You are free to leave, and to decide
Whether you'll belong to me or to the outside.
You've endured those streets for forty years.
You have sacrificed yourself to earn money,
Struggling and exhausting yourself endlessly,
And you devoted yourself to other women,
Suffering countless humiliations and defeats,
Only for everyone to abandon you in the end.
You have shed your skin, you can try again,
But you can choose us instead.
I will keep you warm and safe,
I will make love to you every day.
I can give you everything a girl wants.
Anything is possible in this world
If you have as much money as me.
You won't have to work ever again.
All I ask in exchange, my pet,
Is for you to pleasure and comfort me."
Her words made me tremble.
"I-I don't need to be your sex toy,
Or a pet, or anything else..."
I said weakly,
But the woman's smile broadened.
"I offer you the chance to be happy.
I know you hate being alone;
I understand how lonely you feel,
And I'll give you the affection you need,
So please stay with me."
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
I was speechless for a while,
And she kissed me tenderly
As if she feared it would be the last time
(Or like a mother to her child).
I considered her offer, I admit,
Then I recalled the weeks of torture,
And that she had killed my previous self.
I groaned, and turned around quickly.
I hoped to open the door in seconds,
And yet I fumbled with different keys
Until I found the one that fit in.
I was terrified of looking at her face;
I felt her standing right behind me.
I left the keychain hanging from the lock
As I pulled the door open and ran away.
The raindrops were falling on my face.
I reached the end of the one-lane road,
Then I scurried to a stretch of the street
That the streetlights weren't brightening.
She hadn't lied: I needed to recover,
Because I crumpled onto the pavement
As I struggled to catch my breath.
I wanted to forget the whole thing.
I was sickened by her cruelty,
And I was burning with shame.
I had a strong urge to run back home,
To crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.
I could never tell anyone what she did to me.
My head was spinning, my chest was heaving,
I wished for the rain to wash away
All the humiliation and degradation
That monster had inflicted upon me.
I stood motionless in the rain.
I was unfamiliar with this street
Lined with alabaster white buildings.
I had no idea what direction to take.
I needed to get home, but did it exist?
I had been gone for weeks without paying,
So the landlord must had evicted me.
Even if I still could call that place my home,
I had lost my only set of keys,
And how would I convince that landlord
That I was the forty years old renter?
I felt too tired and weak to wander around.
I wished to call a taxi, but I couldn't pay.
I couldn't even afford to buy a water bottle.
How could I survive on my own?
I roamed around in a daze.
I was cold and wet, and I couldn't help crying.
I passed by groups of young people jabbering,
And devoted salarymen that returned home.
Whenever I felt someone's gaze upon me,
I looked away and walked faster.
I hoped to find a park, or maybe a shrine,
Where I could hide for the night,
But there was nothing nearby
Except a few small businesses.
I was just a stupid animal
Stumbling through the darkness.
My legs were burning,
My whole body shivered.
The night and its cold rain
Were hypnagogic hallucinations,
And I wished for my knees to buckle,
For my mind to finally collapse,
For the rain to seep through my pores
And fill my heart with rainwater.
Somehow I ended up under an awning,
Sitting on the pavement and hugging my knees
While the rainwater flowed around me.
I heard heavy footsteps approaching.
It was a big, middle-aged man with grey hair,
Who wore a coat and carried a shopping bag.
The streetlight behind him silhouetted his face.
"My goodness, what's the matter, girl?
Why are you sobbing like a child?
Did someone attack you?"
When I felt his hand on my shoulder,
I gasped and flinched,
Then scrambled to my feet.
"Don't touch me! Get away from me!"
My voice was shrill and hoarse.
I was freezing cold, running in the dark
When I tripped over something
And my chest hit the pavement.
I groaned in pain, rolled around,
Then hurried up to crawl under a bush.
I didn't want anyone to see me.
I didn't want to be known as a girl,
Or to have to explain why I was a girl.
I didn't want anyone to realize
That I had been tortured and raped.
I wanted to die quietly, like a fish
That sinks to the bottom of the sea.
There was nothing to my name.
I didn't even have one.
My wallet was gone, so was my phone.
I lacked an identity document, any history.
As far as this world was concerned,
I had never existed.
That woman could have locked me in a cage,
And no one would have searched for me.
I needed to start from zero.
I had to learn how to live again.
I had to make myself valuable.
I had to find a way to make money,
At least enough to feed myself,
But I also wanted a roof over my head.
I was never talented at anything.
I would end up relying on some stranger,
And those who would care would be men,
For whom I would be a pretty high school girl.
They would thrust their real dicks inside me.
I would become a sex slave to them.
It may had taken me an hour,
As I lost myself and nearly passed out,
Until I recognized that one-lane road,
And further ahead, the iron cast fence
Topped with medieval, sharp spikes.
I felt relief; this was my port in a storm.
I walked slowly, limping towards the gate.
The raindrops were hitting my face,
And I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead.
I was afraid of looking back
At what I left behind.
I stood in front of the buzzer,
But it took me a minute to press it.
Later I felt the woman's presence
On the other side of the camera lens.
"So you've returned," the woman said.
I could tell she was upset.
I was shivering, my eyes burned.
"Yes, I want... Please, let me in."
She unlocked the gate,
And after I entered her yard,
I hurried to the front door.
When she appeared,
Her eyes gleamed in the dimness,
But her kimono was closed.
"You have turned into a wet stray.
You should have stolen an umbrella."
My teeth were chattering.
I couldn't verbalize what I needed.
The woman's stare was sullen;
I had clearly disappointed her.
"I thought I would never see you again.
My heart can break too, you know."
I felt that my heart was going to burst.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.
"P-please, can I come in, and be here?"
The woman sighed, but she grabbed my arm,
Which sent a warm shiver down my spine,
And pulled me in so she could close the door.
"Go to the living room. I'll bring you a towel,"
The woman said as she avoided my gaze.
I obeyed. I wanted nothing else.
Once I entered the cozy living room,
I stood away from the carpet;
A puddle on the hardwood sounded better.
The woman returned, and threw me a towel.
She walked to the sofa and sat down.
My heart sank; I wanted her to dry me off.
I had failed her. Maybe she would reject me.
The inside of this home was so warm
So I could walk around naked,
As free as those mythical first humans
In their heavenly paradise.
I didn't want to be out in the cold
With only my own strength.
I wanted to feel her arms embrace me.
Even if I had to sweat and bleed for it,
I wanted to feel her soft skin
Against my own.
She stared at me with severity
As she reached for a glass of wine
She had put on the coffee table
Next to the collar I had renounced.
"Speak," she said. "Say it clearly.
Why exactly did you want to return?"
"I-I wanted to ask you, to beg you
To let me live here with you."
Her nostrils were dilated,
Her eyes looked hurt and sunken
As if she hadn't slept for days.
"Take off those wet clothes you stole,
And dry yourself off at once.
I don't want you catching a cold."
Seconds later I was naked like she wanted,
And I welcomed how she observed my skin.
I kept sniffling, and the next day I'd be sick,
But my heart already felt much warmer.
This house was where I was born,
And where I wanted to grow old.
Once I finished drying myself off,
She gulped down the rest of her wine.
"To beg properly, you have to kneel."
"Yes, whatever you say."
My knees sank in the carpet.
She loosened the knot of her kimono,
And the silky fabric slid open,
Revealing her firm, delicious breasts.
"What do you want? Say it clearly,"
The woman said in a low voice.
Between her knees,
I could finally see her slit:
A vertical, slanted eye,
With a hollowed eye socket.
"I want to be your pet," I said.
Her eyes twitched, then glistened.
She licked her lower lip.
"Then prove it."
I crawled up to her bare left foot,
And I slowly kissed her calf,
Licked her skin down to her ankle,
And sucked on each of her toes.
I was breathing hard,
My pussy was warm and wet.
I opened my eyes, and looked up.
Her face was flushed, her lips moist,
And her nipples stiff.
I reached for the collar.
As I stared into the woman's eyes,
I put it around my neck
Then fastened it
Until it felt as if her two warm hands
Were wrapped around my throat.
"I am your pet, now and forever.
I will pleasure you and comfort you.
Please, take good care of me."
The woman gulped and shivered,
Then scooted closer to the edge
So she could stroke my face.
"Do you know why you had to kneel?"
A cold ache shot through me,
And I hung my head low.
"Because I'm a pathetic, worthless beast
Who should have never been born."
She was quick to lift my chin up,
And stared firmly into my eyes
As she spoke in an soothing tone.
"I won't hear any more of such self-disdain.
You are a beautiful soul, inside and out.
You are kneeling because I'm your owner,
And there's no shame in that."
She pulled me up so I could straddle her thighs,
So close that my pussy touched hers.
She wrapped me in her arms, inside her kimono.
We made out like a couple of high schoolers
For so long that my mind dissolved.
I was in ecstasy, and I felt complete.
When she finally pulled away,
She bit my lower lip,
Then whispered in my ear.
"You are the most precious girl,
A perfect, loving pet."
Her voice made my heart tremble,
Like she had spoken in a dream.
She held my head against her chest,
Where I smelled her breast sweat
As her hands slowly caressed me.
I was melting into her arms,
Her smooth skin, her firm tits,
The softness of her thighs.
A big yawn escaped from my mouth,
Which caused her to yawn as well.
"Poor thing," she said,
"You need a good night's sleep."
She put me down and helped me stand,
Then she held my hand tightly.
"Let's go to our bedroom," she said.
Instead of leading me to her torture chamber,
She guided me up the stairs and down the hallway
Until we reached the master bedroom.
It was decorated in black or cherry red
Except for the main feature: a canopy bed
With a pillowy, purple comforter.
The woman pulled back the sheets,
Lay down in the bed,
Then held the sheets up
So I could lay down next to her.
Once my body rested beside hers,
She wrapped me with the comforter,
And then hugged me snugly,
Entangling her shapely legs with mine.
She let out a long, heavy sigh.
"My kitty-cat is so soft and warm."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
I was safe, untroubled, at peace,
And in mere seconds, my mind sank
Into the velvety oblivion of sleep.
THE END
August 6, 2021
You Choose Who Owns You, Pt. 2 (Poetry)
Link for this poem on my personal page, where it looks better
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My whole body felt numb and paralyzed
As I lay on the BDSM bed, restrained by the cuffs.
I tried to hold on to the passage of time,
But my thoughts were swirling in a maelstrom.
The daylight dimmed in jumps.
I must have fallen asleep,
Because when I awoke, it was night.
I tried to sit upright, but I remained chained up.
I couldn't tell properly if I was alive,
Or if I had gone to a type of hell.
Sometimes I heard cars passing outside.
I was shivering as if a fever was increasing.
I could feel the IV needle inside my arm
While it poured a drug into my bloodstream.
I needed to alert the neighbors;
I tried to cry out, but my throat was dry,
And I only managed to whisper
As if the nerves of my larynx were disrupted.
My brain must have recognized her footsteps,
Because it snapped out of its trance;
I heard the woman as she walked
Down the hallway and into the kitchen.
She opened a cabinet, then closed it again.
I heard her humming as she sang to herself.
Suddenly, she was leaning towards me.
She cupped the back of my head
So she could empty a glass of water
Into my parched mouth.
The liquid woke up my esophagus,
Then it pooled in my stomach.
The woman looked tired
Like after a long workday,
But she smiled at me kindly.
I begged at her with my gaze,
Because I couldn't speak.
She caressed my sweaty forehead.
"Your body is adapting to the intruders,
Which haven't started to work yet.
You will know when they do,
Because it will hurt like never before.
I'm telling you so you know in advance.
It's a normal part of the process.
Just endure it, as I told you.
You don't have to worry about anything."
She fed me a bland mush with a spoon,
Which was difficult to swallow
Because my tongue was numb.
The woman wiped my mouth clean.
When she finished, she kissed my lips.
I felt her warm breath on my ear
As she whispered, "Goodnight, my slut."
She abandoned me in the pitch black room,
Where for hours I only heard my breathing.
I was shivering, burning, freezing,
And the drugs didn't help with my insomnia.
My whole body felt numb and paralyzed,
My throat felt raw and sore.
I kept replaying the woman's warning
As I waited for the agony to start in earnest.
The drugs made me hallucinate;
I saw the woman standing in a corner,
With her arms raised as an electric shock
Danced on her fingertips.
Why did she chain me up like a beast?
She intended to keep me alive,
But what had she planned for me?
I woke up from a dreamless sleep
Because my bladder was full of urine.
I tried to stand up by reflex,
But I panicked as I recalled the restraints.
I was suddenly aware of my nakedness,
That my numb crotch was wrapped in a diaper.
I wanted to wait; maybe the woman
Would return to check on me,
And I would somehow plead
For her to preserve my dignity.
I knew already it was a futile hope.
The wind whistled beyond the windows
While my own panting echoed inside.
I couldn't hold my pee in anymore,
And I finally let go.
I felt the warm liquid filling the spaces
Between the diaper and my skin.
The waste seeped into my pores.
I was disgusted, and I cried in despair
In the darkness and silence of the night.
I was alone with my shame.
I felt so dirty and worthless.
I couldn't believe my pathetic life
Had led me to a situation like this.
I wished I had a blade to kill myself.
I woke up a second time that night,
Because I felt diarrhea coming up.
I surrendered, and relaxed my asshole,
So the liquid shit flowed out of me.
I felt it hardening in my diaper
Before I managed to fall asleep.
The woman woke me up in the morning.
Although she had restrained me,
I wanted to apologize for the mess
As she realized that my diaper was full,
Probably because it smelled.
I couldn't feel my fingers nor my wrists.
I was completely helpless,
Like a child locked inside a closet.
"Did you sleep well?" the woman asked
As casually as if I were a friend.
Later she returned with a bowl
Filled with water, and some wipes.
"Try to sleep with your head turned,
At least slightly, or else you might choke."
When she opened my diaper,
The stink of urine and feces filled the room.
I was ashamed, I felt nauseous,
But the woman's face remained inscrutable.
She wiped off my crotch with water,
Then put on a fresh diaper.
I wanted to ask her questions,
Or utter any words at all,
But the woman kissed my forehead
And left the bedroom.
I lay there in the dark,
Wishing that I was dead.
I saw the woman in many forms.
She was a beautiful angel
Who protected me from harm.
She was a demon who punished my crimes.
She was a goddess who could grant me a wish.
She was a killer of men
Who had hunted me down.
She was my mother
Who gave birth to me.
A few hours after she went to work,
Those intruders she had mentioned
Must have begun attacking my insides,
Because I felt as if an army of ants
Were chewing on my veins
And biting their way into my organs.
My teeth clenched in fear
As the pain increased
With a terrible intensity.
My body was stiffening,
My skin was burning,
I was sweating profusely.
I wanted to vomit
And choke on it.
My stomach was riddled with holes.
It felt like my guts were melting
As the acids ate away at me.
My bowels evacuated themselves
While I writhed in agony.
I had to get used to the constant pain
As if it were the white noise of hell,
But now I couldn't fall asleep.
I felt empty, unreal,
As if I had only imagined being alive.
This is just a dream, I told myself,
This entire nightmare of my life,
All those years I had wasted
While I felt exhausted and sick,
So alone and hopelessly unfulfilled,
Without a clue about why I existed.
I had always wanted to be useful,
To live a purposeful life;
What was I supposed to do?
Why did my parents give birth to me?
I had tried to study,
But it was like trying to read a book
While my eyes were blindfolded.
I had never been good at anything.
I thought I had gone insane,
Or maybe just hoped so.
I noticed the woman standing nearby.
She was wearing a plain T-shirt
And she ate rice from a bowl
As she stared down in disgust.
"Your man-body is a mess.
You are a disgrace to yourself and to me."
My mouth was dry and swollen.
In the last hours I had started to feel
As if my bones were groaning in agony
And my organs were contracting slowly.
It hurt to breathe, and when I swallowed,
My foul-tasting saliva was a razor blade.
I wanted to scream, but I couldn't.
The woman walked up to a nightstand,
Where she lifted a cell phone, mine.
"Nobody has called," she said,
Then put down the phone again.
At least two days and nights passed.
I couldn't tell if I slept for a second.
I was drenched in sweat,
My skin was steaming,
And my entire body was changing
As if all of my cells were resetting.
I wished for any kind of god to exist
So it would come down and kill me.
My vision had turned blurry,
But whenever the blur of the woman left,
I feared that she was abandoning me.
I wouldn't survive this, I knew it,
And I imagined how she would dispose
Of my old and worthless corpse.
I saw her turning me into fertilizer
With which she would grow plants
On her second floor balcony.
In other daydreams, I saw my cheating ex;
She was beaming as she held a baby.
She looked down at the kid,
And I heard her say, "I hope it's a boy!"
Then the woman appeared at my side.
Her face was stern and merciless.
She took out a pair of knives
And began to carve my chest open,
Slashing my heart and lungs.
As my blood flowed onto the bed,
She peeled off my skin like a banana.
There was no one to hear me,
No one who would help,
Just the woman, who watched silently
As I screamed in my mind.
I couldn't stop trembling violently.
The air felt thick and heavy,
As if it were filled with water,
Or I was inhaling a viscuous slime.
The woman was standing close.
Her warm breath reeked of alcohol.
She only wore a pyjama top
While she spread her pussy lips open.
"Look at this pretty hole.
Don't you think I should enjoy
A cock inside me,
Instead of being grossed out?"
I could no longer feel my genitals;
The whole area was numb
As if I had pressed ice against them.
Pee and diarrhea kept flowing out,
And the last time she cleaned me,
I had also squirted out blood.
My skull was shrinking,
Grinding against my grey matter.
My spine felt as if it were cracking.
"You are going to die soon, slut,"
I imagined that the woman said.
She placed her hand on my forehead
And pressed down with all her strength
Until my worthless head exploded.
Who was I?
What was my purpose in life?
Why did I have to suffer so much?
I had done nothing wrong.
I had never hurt someone this much.
I was born into this world to be alone.
Nobody cared about me.
Nothing made any sense.
The woman was wiping the sweat off my face,
And then poured water down my throat.
I stared up at her, moved my trembling lips.
She bent over real close to hear.
"P-please... I-it hurts..." I whispered
Through my cracked, dried lips.
She caressed my hair
As she gazed down with pity.
"Although it must hurt terribly, I'm sure,
Weren't you used to pain already?
You trained your entire life, didn't you?
But unlike all those years,
This pain will be worth it in the end.
When I'm finished with you,
You will end up thanking me."
Maybe days later, she opened my diaper,
Then she picked up and held my dick,
Which had shrivelled up and fallen off.
She cleaned the mess of my burst balls.
"Finally," she said, "these ugly things died."
The woman gazed at me steadily,
Like an owl sizing up its prey.
My expression irritated her.
"What? Were you so fond
Of these unimpressive bits?"
She squeezed my shrunken penis
As if she wanted it to pop.
"Manhood is a useless thing."
She tossed my detached dick
Into the trash, on top of the diaper.
She calmed down,
Wiped my tears and sighed.
"You were a man, but that's over.
You were no longer needed."
She returned to my cell phone,
Which she had kept charging.
"Nobody has tried to contact you,
Although you've been gone for weeks.
You had already ceased to exist.
You are perfect." She chuckled.
"The other men came and went,
But with you, I was blessed."
"You don't need your old phone,"
She said, then took it out of the room.
Wherever she went, I heard loud cracks,
Then something hard hitting a bin.
Even my mind had gone numb.
I was done, nothing mattered.
I was a disposable commodity,
A worn out rag,
A piece of garbage,
An empty shell
That had served its purpose.
No more pain, no more suffering.
I just wanted to sleep
And dream about a beautiful woman
Whose body was like an angel's.
The woman who had abandoned me
In the real world,
While in my dreams she gave birth
To a divine female child.
Days, or weeks, later,
The hair on my torso fell off,
My shackled arms had slimmed down
And now were muscleless and graceful.
My entire body felt slender
As my hips grew wider and rounder,
And two mounds protruded from my chest.
I thought I was dreaming,
Because all the pain ceased.
I lay there confused for minutes.
I tried to sit upright,
But my arms tugged on the chains.
I babbled like a baby learning to speak,
And I heard quick footsteps coming my way.
The woman appeared on the doorway.
Her face brightened up,
And she let out a noise of delight.
"Ah, finally! What a trial, huh?"
She hurried up to me and kissed my hair,
Then she pulled out the IV catheter.
She wiped off the hole with alcohol.
"W-why have you done this to me,"
I spoke through my alien mouth.
"You're going to be fine," she said,
"Now you can finally begin to live."
She looked so thrilled to see me,
And was quick to take off my cuffs.
I tried to push her away
And jump off the bed to flee,
But my legs gave way beneath me.
I fell onto the floor with a crash.
I felt as if I had endured chemo.
She patted me on my head,
Her smile full of joy.
"You need to be careful,
You are as weak as a child,
And you'll need time to recover."
She picked me up by my armpits
And she half-carried me to the bathroom.
I thought she was going to throw me
Headfirst into the toilet,
But instead she lifted my chin
So I would look at myself in the mirror.
I didn't find myself in the reflection.
I was staring at a high school aged girl
A few centimeters smaller than the woman,
Who stood behind me as she undressed.
The girl looked like a live-size doll
Whose owner had dressed with a diaper.
The girl resembled some relative
Of the unsightly man I knew myself to be,
But when I stared into those altered eyes
I was horrified at the gaze I recognized.
The woman hugged me from behind,
Pressing her warm breasts against my back.
She wrapped my arms around me,
And caressed my breasts and tummy lovingly
As she rested her chin on my shoulder.
I shivered warmly from head to toe.
"Look at you, you are gorgeous,"
She cooed as she breathed deeply.
Her stiff nipples were poking my skin.
She slid one hand down to my crotch;
The mirror reflected a fresh slit,
Which was getting warm and gooey.
"Your eyes are still red and smarting,
And you look like you need serious rest,
But otherwise, your body is perfect.
You can now be proud of yourself,"
The woman stated triumphantly.
I dug into my face with my fingers.
"T-this can't be, it's impossible.
I must have lost my mind."
The woman grabbed my wrist,
And pulled down my arm.
"Hey, don't claw at your face,
Which is now a precious thing.
Anyway, there's an explanation:
A myriad of tiny teeny machines
Have reached every part of your body
And have reshaped it entirely
Until it became this miracle of flesh.
I want to explain more, truly,
But those NDAs are very severe."
I was stunned, and I stared open-mouthed
At the strange girl I had been made into.
The woman turned me around,
Then pressed my body against hers.
Her heart was pounding on her chest,
And I could smell the wetness of her sex.
She had a smile plastered in her mouth
Like that of a birthday girl
Who had been gifted a pretty puppy.
She stroked my hair and face,
Then she rubbed her cheek along mine
As her hands roamed my body freely.
"I'm going to take care of you so well,
Now that you're mine," she murmured.
She kissed my lips, my cheeks, my neck,
While her hands squeezed my ass.
She whispered in my ear,
"I'm going to love you until you die."
A warm sensation was spreading in my waist.
My skin was tingling, and I wanted for her,
This woman who had tortured me,
To grab my breasts and suck on them.
I felt like a passenger in my own brain.
Before I knew it, I was sitting in the tub.
The woman had climbed in behind me,
And was setting up a warm bath.
I felt like a defenseless child
As she washed my body with soap,
Then scrubbed my hair with two shampoos.
I sat still as a statue
And let her do whatever she wished.
After she rinsed me with warm water,
She dried me off with fluffy towels
That smelled of flowers and strawberries.
She used a brush to smooth my hair.
"So beautiful and silky,"
She said softly as she caressed my head.
She put her hand on my nape
As she guided me, both still naked,
Into the bedroom where she had tortured me.
She only stopped touching me
To sit comfortably on the edge of the bed,
Then patted her toned thighs and said,
"You need to relax. Come over here."
She was so attentive and glad to have me,
That I had no clue how to handle it.
I lowered my gaze and shuffled up to her,
Then sat down on the matress.
She kissed my neck, and whispered in:
"Lie down on my lap, sideways."
I did as she ordered, and rested my face
On her toned, shapely thighs
(Which were moist with perspiration
And smelled nicely of soap),
But with my back to the woman.
My heart was beating hard,
I had to breathe through my mouth,
And goosebumps were spreading
All over this new body.
"Don't be so shy," the woman said,
"You have to turn the other way."
I gulped, obeyed her and looked up.
Her face was full of lust,
And she had a huge smile.
"You are such a pretty girl.
I'm going to make you happy."
I became aware of the scent of her pussy,
Which was warm and damp with sweat.
My mouth flooded with saliva
While I stared at her glistening lips.
Her clit was peeking out
As if asking to meet my mouth.
She cupped the back of my head.
"Why are you making me wait?
You know what you have to do."
I closed my eyes as she pulled me in,
And when her pubes tickled my nose,
I probed her pussy with my tongue.
I licked and sucked and slurped
While she fondled my bare ass cheeks.
Back when I was a man,
This woman had been guarded,
But now she was moaning freely.
"You are going to make me come quick,"
She praised me in a hoarse voice.
She had destroyed my penis and testicles,
But I was devoted to pleasuring this woman.
I was screaming in my mind
While my tongue swirled around in her insides
And she threaded her fingers through my hair.
I could feel her orgasm building
Through her tendons and her muscles.
I sucked on her clit as she writhed,
Until she finally came all over my face
In a cascade of hot, sticky liquid.
It took her a while to recover her breath.
"Oh, you're so good at this, and I needed it.
You see, just because I'm beautiful and rich
Doesn't mean that I don't need a good pet
To keep my pussy wet all the time."
She told me to sit up so she could stand up.
"Lie down on your back," she ordered me.
Again, I obeyed, and my head sank in her pillows.
A surge of tears was pushing against my throat;
I felt completely helpless and lost.
I crossed a forearm over my face,
So I could spare myself the sight of her.
I felt how the woman climbed onto the bed,
And planted her feet on both sides of my torso.
Then I held my breath in surprise
When I felt a warm liquid splash on my stomach.
I looked up: the woman was peeing on me,
As her wide smile displayed her white teeth.
It was so absurd that she would sully me like this
After she had given me a bath carefully,
That I only stared up at her chuckling self,
And she took the opportunity to step forward
So the stream of piss doused my face.
I raised my hands defensively
As plenty of piss got in my mouth.
"W-what the fuck?" I complained,
But I felt too weak to defend myself.
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it,"
She said as she stepped back.
"Did you like the taste of my urine?"
She asked as she smirked at me.
I only shook my head;
I was afraid to even look her in the eyes.
The room smelled pungently of ammonia.
She chuckled happily and patted my chest
As she climbed down from the bed.
I was rubbing my eyes and containing tears
When I felt her grabbing my left wrist,
Then fastening a cuff around it.
I knew better than to resist,
And I barely had any strength to spare.
Once I lay there with my arms spread wide,
The woman crouched next to the bed
And dragged out a black chest
From which she pulled out a bottle of lube
And a large, purple strap-on dildo.
August 4, 2021
You Choose Who Owns You, Pt. 1 (Poetry)
Link for this poem on my personal page, where it looks better.
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Nothing like alcohol for killing the pain.
I felt the warmth of the bar on my face;
I had rested my head on many familiar tables
And closed my eyes, yet failed to sleep.
That night, like many others of the last year,
I wasted more money of my diminishing savings
By travelling to Shinjuku station,
And from there northeast to Kabukicho,
Where I would drink myself into a stupor.
All of Tokyo is alive in those sexy streets.
So many beautiful women walking about,
The gorgeous kind that live a dream,
The likes of which you can't see anywhere else.
Some men standing in corners or against walls
Offered me drugs, but I said no way;
Alcohol should be enough to numb the pain,
But it wasn't: my heart broke every night.
Although I told myself that I would be alright,
I wanted to sleep with my head under water;
The pain had changed from intermittent attacks
To an excruciating chronic condition.
With each day that passed, I felt less and less alive,
As if I were slowly rotting away;
My body was filled with swelling useless flesh,
And I couldn't stand the sight of it anymore.
My head hurt, my heart ached.
All that I had achieved seemed hollow.
My life had no direction, no meaning,
And a void within me cried out to be filled.
I couldn't find peace when I was so restless,
And the only thing I knew was that emptiness.
In thirty minutes, my butt was resting on a stool
At the bar of the club I had come to frequent.
I had already downed a couple of fruit cocktails
When I felt someone's gaze burning my face;
It came from a woman sitting nearby,
Clad so stylishly that it reminded me of a hotel suite
(Or the kind of high-class escorts I'd meet there).
She had fair skin; thin, pointy lips;
A scooped nose with a turned-up tip;
And dreamy, distant eyes.
A beauty that I wouldn't dare to pick up.
Her long black hair was pulled back with a clip.
She was wearing a rosewood pink cocktail dress
That showed most of her shapely thighs
Of a pair of legs that had stepped out of a magazine.
A drunk like me didn't deserve her attention,
But I couldn't think of many men who would.
"Hey," she said softly. "You look lonely tonight."
Well, sure. Why wouldn't I have felt lonely?
My last girlfriend and I should have lasted forever,
But I lost my job and couldn't provide,
So she had found someone who could.
Now we were broken up, for good this time.
I returned to the dating market as a forty-year-old
Who likely looked more worn out than he even felt,
And now I faced a beautiful young woman
Whose gaze I could barely dare to meet.
"I'm lonely, but you look way too expensive,"
I answered politely to the likely escort.
The woman brandished a gorgeous smile.
"You'd be surprised by how affordable I am."
I was interested in the picturesque
Amount of flesh that her garment exposed.
The woman stood up, then walked up to me
And slipped one hand across my shoulder.
Her strong scent wafted through my nostrils.
I wanted her bad, but I would have fucked anyone
Who was willing to have sex with this old man.
As I turned around, she leaned forward
Until our lips touched, and probed with her tongue.
Her taste was intoxicating, yet slightly bitter.
Before I knew it, she took hold of my crotch
To squeeze and grope my dick.
She whispered in my ear, "I live close.
Let's go to my place so I can fuck your brains out."
No sane woman would choose a forty-year-old
Who doesn't disguise he's burning his savings,
But the other escorts who seduced me
Were far uglier and cheaper-looking,
So if I were set on wasting my money,
I may as well give it to this beautiful whore.
We left the bar and I guided her to the taxi stand,
But the woman tugged on my arm she was holding.
"No need, I came here in my car. Let's go."
I followed her to the parking lot
As I stared down at her toned ass;
This woman worked out regularly,
And she looked like she had money to spare,
But I figured that falling for this woman's ploy
Was more interesting that drinking myself to sleep.
We got into a shiny, silver Honda.
When I sank into the passenger seat,
She got into the driver's seat
With her legs spread wide open
And her skirt hiked up.
I thought it best not to say anything;
I only thought of shoving my dick inside her.
As the woman drove away from Kabukicho,
She reached between her thighs
And glanced at me as she rubbed herself.
"You have given up, haven't you," she said softly,
"And you are hoping for the drinks to kill you quick."
I was drunk enough that I couldn't think straight.
I shifted my weight to disguise my erection,
Although the woman kept pleasuring herself.
"I don't want to die as much as to disappear."
This escort had already picked me up
When I was drinking myself into a stupor,
So I figured I could be honest with her.
The woman smiled sympathetically.
"It must be so hard, that pressure to provide,
When nobody would want to take care of you."
I shivered from head to toe, and had to swallow.
"I'm sure you have taken care of many losers.
The only kind of angel we are allowed to meet."
She lightly stroked my face, her expression pleasant.
I wished for her to grant me a miracle tonight,
To make my rotten self feel alive again.
We passed by suitable love hotels,
But maybe she was looking for seedier ones.
"Are you thinking of a hotel in particular?" I asked.
The woman's cheeks were flushed, her eyes excited.
"Didn't you hear me before? I'm bringing you home."
The woman's house wasn't close at all.
She drove in the night past the national garden,
Straight through the entirety of Minamiaoyama,
And then south towards Hiroo, a fitting fancy district
That I could only dream of living in.
I had drunk as much as I had become used to,
And I had sunk in the passenger's seat
As I watched the multicolored lights flying by.
I had ceased to care whether I would have sex;
If this woman stopped and told me to get out,
I would bow and thank her for the pleasant ride.
But she made a left turn into a one-lane road
Lined with clashing, idiosyncratic homes.
All the yards were dark at this hour.
She gestured towards a lace white house
Two stories tall, fenced with cast iron
Topped with medieval, sharp spikes.
A row of pill-shaped bushes hid the view
Of the balcony in the second floor.
I felt dizzy as I gawked at the house
While the woman veered into its garage.
Once she parked inside, I spoke:
"This is the fanciest home I've been in.
I guess your job pays very well."
The woman slowly climbed out of the car,
Then chuckled softly as she smiled.
"I have always done well for myself,
As I could put my talents to good use,
And now you'll enjoy this luxury too."
I knew I didn't belong in such a place,
Nor standing in front of a gorgeous lady,
Whether or not she charged for sex.
But she was smiling seductively
As she pressed herself against me.
I could feel her pussy through her skirt.
I caressed her toned left thigh
While my erection bent in my pants.
No way she wanted this old man's cock,
But I had decided to pay her handsomely.
I must have looked so pitiful and lonely
That even a high-class escort felt sympathy.
She opened the door and invited me in.
I feared I would smell the aroma of a man,
But the place was clean, too tidy for a drunk.
The furniture was either black or cherry red.
The woman closed the sliding door behind us,
Then devoured my mouth ravenously.
No other woman had showed me this passion.
I could taste her lipstick from our kisses
As she gripped me tightly through my underwear.
We fondled our way further into the house,
Until the woman stopped next to a room.
"That door over there is one of the bathrooms.
Go inside and pee or whatever you need
While I prepare something good in the kitchen."
I walked to the bathroom and shut the door.
The toilet was modern, with a sensor,
And I had never seen a shower like this.
It had many different settings,
With a dozen buttons on the panel.
After I peed, I held my insufficient dick.
No way this escort would be impressed.
The booze had gone to my head;
I was surprised I could even get hard.
Maybe I should just have called it quits.
When I walked into the kitchen,
It took one look of the escort's figure
For my penis to perk up again.
I needed to see her body,
To know the shape of her curves and her skin.
I wanted to feel her softness against my chest.
I wanted to make love to her,
And to believe for those brief seconds
That such a woman would truly want me.
She was holding two glasses filled
With water in which something had dissolved.
I was concerned, and pointed at them.
"What's that? Aspirin? Do you have a headache?"
Her dark hazel eyes narrowed like those of a cat.
Her smile was charming, but her eyes were cold.
"It's mescaline, my friend. Ever heard of it?"
It took me a while to climb out of my stupor,
But it made sense: she needed to be high
To fuck an old ruin like my drunken self.
"Alright, I guess you know how to party."
The woman tossed down her drink,
And on impulse, I drank my entire glass dry.
It tasted bitter, yet refreshing.
I enjoyed the residual flavor of the drug
As my body fizzled with ecstasy and fear,
Like when a boy first tried smoking weed,
Only this feeling was much stronger.
The woman was staring at me hungrily.
Her pink lips moved closer until we kissed,
And I wrapped my hands around her toned ass.
"Let's go to the bedroom, shall we?" she cooed,
And whispered in: "I'm going to fuck you hard."
I pictured her hiding a penis in her panties,
But at that point I likely would have taken it.
She half-pushed me down the hallway
Until we reached a stark bedroom,
Where beside the nightstands, and a statue
(Which looked like it represented a goddess),
The central feature was a gothic, four-poster bed.
The sheets were white, and the pillows pink.
There were bars connecting the posts,
From which hanged iron rings.
Both the headboard and the footboard
Had ornate designs with holes and more rings.
I imagined the escort as a medieval countess.
The few windows were tall enough
That no neighbor would be able to peek in,
And although the bedroom looked clean,
It smelled strongly like sex.
That mescaline was taking effect,
And my brain was turning blue.
I chuckled. "I see that you like to play."
She devoured my mouth as she fondled my dick.
"I'm never more serious than when I'm playing,
And you'll know all about it soon enough."
She pulled off her cocktail dress in my arms,
Exposing her perfect torso to the night.
She was wearing a lacy black bra.
I couldn't wait, so I undid the clasp,
Then cupped those firm breasts,
Which felt so smooth and warm.
They reminded me of the woman's face,
A mixture of youth and experience.
She pulled back as she took off her panties.
Her pubes were trimmed, her pussy glistened.
Her breasts were full of pink and vitality,
And they swayed tantalizingly as she breathed.
As my erection tried to poke through my pants;
I couldn't believe I would fuck a woman like that.
She kissed me as she passed by,
Then climbed onto the gothic bed
To lie on her back, showing her pussy.
She opened those moist lips for me.
"Do you like this beautiful pussy of mine?",
The woman asked in a serious voice.
I unbuckled my pants as I stared at it.
"Oh, yes. It's the most glorious thing."
"Are you going to pleasure it like it deserves?"
I shivered under her gaze. "If you let me."
She pointed at her crotch and licked her lips.
"Then come over here and eat my pussy."
For as long as it lasted, I was in heaven,
Lying on my belly as I fondled her thighs
While I lapped up her pussy juices
And her clit throbbed against my tongue.
But my mind kept wandering to the past,
Now in hallucinatory, dream-like swirls
(I was sobering up, but the mescaline kicked in).
I kept seeing the woman I used to love,
And who maybe I loved still, a year later.
I remembered her small, soft breasts,
Her cute nose and big eyes.
I recalled the feel of her pussy hugging me.
I remembered the way she smelled,
Her aroma that made my heart beat faster.
During sex, I only wished to recall sex,
Because my eyes were too eager to tear up
Whenever I recalled everything I lost.
When the woman came with a long sigh,
Her orgasm brought back some of my youth.
I kept tonguing her clit as her vagina throbbed,
But when she relaxed, I looked up at her face;
It was beautiful, framed with raven black hair.
"You are such a good boy, aren't you?"
She asked me sweetly, slightly out of breath.
My mouth was still wet from her juices,
And her words caused me a new erection.
"I loved being a good boy for you."
She got up and walked around the bed
Until she stood straight behind me.
Even naked, she was full of confidence,
While I was a lonely drunk of an aging man.
She exuded an aura of wavy, purple flames,
But a drug was running through my veins.
"Take off all of your clothes," she said.
"A-are you sure? It will ruin the mood."
"It turns me on when you do what I say.
Take off all your clothes and let me see."
I did as she commanded.
I felt like a child undressing at the doctor
(A chubby child that was growing bitch tits).
As the woman stared, she was inscrutable.
I feared her disapproval, her mockery,
Even though I was sure I would pay a lot.
Fully naked, I stroked my cock,
Hoping that it would grow more.
"I wanted to spare you the sight," I said.
"After all, I'm a forty years old man,
And even when I exercised I looked like shit,
So I can't imagine how hideous I am to you."
The woman nodded, and looked me over.
"You are unsightly, but I love your potential."
I wanted to smile after hearing such kind words;
I lacked potential even when I was young.
As she stepped forward and caressed my chest,
She looked up at me with a glistening gaze.
"Lie on your back on the bed," she said,
"And from now on, do everything I tell you."
I felt a bit dizzy. "Alright, that sounds good."
After the back of my head sank in the pillow,
The woman pointed at the side of the bed.
"Grab what is hanging over there."
Confused, I reached with my arm,
And found myself holding a padded cuff
That was chained to a ring attached to the bed.
My heart beat quickly, and I gulped,
But I was excited, and even euphoric.
"What the fuck?" I chuckled in disbelief.
The woman was serious as she spoke:
"Fasten that cuff around your right wrist."
I kept giggling, eager to follow her game
While figures of light danced in the air.
I obeyed her; the padded insides were cozy.
Before I knew it, she was at my other side,
And she fastened a cuff around my left wrist.
She then pulled something under the bed,
Which tightened the chains attached to me,
Forcing me to spread my arms.
The woman stood at the foot of the bed,
And stared down as if I were a conquest.
Being helpless only made me harder.
If she had pulled out a knife to murder me,
I'm quite sure I would have welcomed it.
The woman breathed deeply
As she climbed onto the bed,
And her knees digged in the mattress
Next to my hairy calves.
"You loved the taste of my juices, didn't you?"
The woman's voice was deep and seductive,
And her words sent a thrill through my body.
"Yeah, I loved it. You are a beautiful woman."
"It does taste better when she's beautiful, huh?"
"Well, nobody prefers ugly people,
Which is why I haven't been lucky lately."
The woman scooted closer to my waist,
Which made my dick throb in anticipation.
She leaned towards me and rubbed my hair.
"I bet you'd love to lick me over and over.
Not only tonight, but many other days."
My mind was fuzzy, my thoughts slow.
I couldn't imagine meeting her again.
"Y-you're actually going to let me...?"
"You didn't answer me properly."
As a reflex, I tried to hold her waist,
But the cuffs restrained my arms.
"Yes, I'd love to keep eating you out."
My brain refused to believe this could happen,
But this woman seemed to need sex badly,
And a sad sack like me would provide it eagerly.
"Because you are my little slut, aren't you?"
She asked me with a voice hoarse with lust.
Her fingers traced my lips;
Her touch was electric.
I wanted to please her,
To be a good boy,
To be a good dog,
To obey without question,
With no hesitation.
The woman fondled her tits
As they hung over my face.
"Do you like my twins?" she asked.
Her pussy was breathing on my dick.
"Oh, yes. I'd suck on them all day."
She pushed her chest forward,
Making her breast slide across my mouth.
I was paralyzed, feeling unworthy.
"Lick my nipple," she ordered.
I traced the outline of her round nipple
With my wet tongue as I salivated.
I loved its texture and its taste.
I wanted to play with it forever.
"Mmm, you are so obedient," she said.
I licked her breast all over
While she stroked my hair.
I bit her nipple gently
And she moaned warmly.
She was vastly amused by my performance
As I slurped on her firm breast.
She lowered her waist, and her warm juices
Dripped on my achingly hard dick.
She rubbed her pussy lips along my erection.
"You want to fill me with your cum?"
The woman asked, almost breathless.
I was so happy that I wanted to cry,
Partly because of the mescaline,
But I had never heard such beautiful words.
"I'll give you as much cum as you want."
She guided my dick inside,
And it slid into her warm tunnel slowly.
The sensation was powerful and delicious,
Much sexier than with any previous woman.
I wanted to hold her ass cheeks,
But my arms tugged on the chains.
"Don't move," the woman ordered,
"Just stay still and enjoy me."
I did as I was told, releasing a long sigh.
The woman moved her hips back and forth
As my cock made wet sounds in her pussy.
She grunted and thrust herself backwards.
Her breasts were bouncing and jiggling.
I wanted to stare at her beautiful face,
But from this angle I only saw her tits
And how they swayed while she moved.
I took deep breaths of the perfume
That drifted off her loose, raven black hair.
The woman kept undulating her ass;
Her body looked sinewy, tight.
"You have beautiful skin," I blurted out.
She chuckled softly, and groaned.
"I am beautiful and will remain so,
And I'm so rich I don't need to work."
Her pussy felt like hot silk,
And it was enveloping me snugly.
I truly must have been dreaming;
I should be invisible for such a woman.
I wanted to ask her to marry me,
But she would be unimpressed by the ring.
As she rode me passionately,
She reached down to squeeze my balls.
I shook and trembled.
"Are you going to come or not?" she asked.
I nodded curtly; I guess I was holding back,
But now that she had given me permission,
My orgasm swept through my body quickly.
I squirted semen deep inside her,
And she kept milking me until I finished.
My dick softened, and she stopped moving.
"This is what you get when you obey me."
For a moment I may have passed out,
And when I regained my senses,
My gaze fell on her beautiful breasts
Which rose and fell as she breathed heavily.
She got up and stood next to the bed.
My semen dripped from her pussy.
"I'll uncuff you; you've been a good boy."
When she released me from the restraints,
I wanted to ask her to put them on again.
I suddenly felt so incomplete and unsafe.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead
As I sat weakly on the edge of the bed.
I avoided looking at the woman, as I feared
That she would be disgusted at me.
"You want me to leave, right?" I asked.
"Why? Are you eager to go home?"
"Not at all. I'd live here if I could,"
I blurted out, and then, ashamed, added:
"You showed me such a good time
That I'll pay you whatever, above your rate."
After a long silence, I looked at her.
The woman was wearing my clothes,
Except for my boxers and undershirt.
She narrowed her dark hazel eyes, irritated.
"How do you think it makes a woman feel
When you refer to her as a prostitute,
Right after you came inside her?"
I froze and was silent for a few seconds.
"W-wait, I didn't mean it as an insult.
Are you truly not an escort?
Why would you want anything with me?"
She shrugged and looked away
As she tied up her raven black hair.
I thought that'd be it, but she spoke:
"I told you, I see a potential for you
To become better than your current self."
"Why are you wearing my clothes?" I asked.
"Because I wanted to wear them.
Anyway, I'm hungry. Let's go to the kitchen."
I stood up and hurried up to dress myself,
But just wearing my underwear felt weird.
"Wait, I'll prepare a nice dinner.
I may not look it, but I'm a good cook."
I made us kitsune udon noodles,
Topped with fried tofu and fish cake.
As I handled our food in her fancy kitchen,
I felt her gaze on my back from where she sat.
The woman was achingly above my league,
And I couldn't tell what she wanted.
She was wearing my clothes and liked BDSM,
But I feared falling in love with her kind of odd,
Because I knew this wouldn't work.
I sat in front of her at the table,
And I kept glancing at her unsubtly,
Because I hoped she liked the dinner.
She seemed anxious, like she was waiting
For something that was supposed to happen.
She slurped the noodles with relish.
"You must have a really good job
That you can afford a place like this," I said.
The woman stared at me intently,
And I felt uneasy and shyer than usual.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
And I can't, anyway. I signed NDAs."
I couldn't imagine what world she lived in,
But clearly I didn't belong in it.
"Fascinating. It's a secret, but is it illegal?"
She offered me a hypnotic smile.
"What is legal depends on the times."
I was stunned, and reached for my water.
"Anyway, I'm rich and powerful," she said,
"So I can do many things you can't."
I didn't understand what she was talking about,
But I didn't want to prod too much.
When I looked back up, she was staring at me
As if she had been waiting for our gazes to meet.
"And what do you do," she asked rhetorically,
"That you've spent most of this last month
Drinking yourself into oblivion at Kabukicho?"
I swallowed hard. I had misread her,
And I had no clue who I was looking at.
I resumed eating to avoid her gaze;
Her sudden arrogance frightened me.
"I drink way too much so I can forget,
As much of a cliché as that is,
The feelings of loneliness and betrayal."
"Of loneliness and betrayal, huh?"
I was annoyed at her detachment.
"Yes. I feel empty no matter what,
And I need to forget how old I am."
"Why would that matter?"
I wanted to throw my hands up in the air.
"You are beautiful and still young,
So you can't have a clue.
I have spent my whole life working hard
Just to keep myself afloat in the world,
But the moment I went through rough times,
Nothing I had done mattered at all."
She rested her head on her hand.
"That's why you get drunk,
Because you lost your job?"
I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes.
"My girlfriend of many years left me.
We had been trying for a baby,
But she turned out to be sterile.
We became resentful of each other.
She eventually found someone else,
But I can't mend my heart back together.
I no longer care about my future.
I've gotten too old, things were always hard,
So I spend my days drowning instead."
She chuckled, and swallowed more noodles.
"You have the courage to speak frankly,
And I admire that very much."
I studied the woman, trying to see
Through the chameleon-like persona.
"Yeah, well, thank you for the good time."
"So you have given up, then," she said.
I couldn't tell if she was mocking me.
"Yes, there was never any use thinking further
Even back when I was young, looked better,
But now I'm a forty years old broke guy
With an unpleasant face and a bloated body.
I'm done. I just know it in my heart.
Nobody cares whether I live or die.
I'm no one in Tokyo, and my life is worthless."
The woman stared at me earnestly,
As if she had the answers to my troubles.
"You are not finished yet, I think.
You want to be, and make those excuses
As if nobody ugly had gotten anywhere in life."
She knew, of course, that I was insufficient.
"Well, you are the one who fucked an ugly guy.
You even pursued me to begin with,
You had noticed I had frequented that club."
"Yes, I had noticed your phone resting there,
On the bar next to your glass,
And that nobody ever bothered to call you."
I hid my face in my hands,
But then I took a deep breath.
"I don't see why you would care,
Even just enough to notice that.
You could have anyone you wanted."
She looked down, suddenly gloomy.
"I'm unique, and I attract men;
They have flocked to me from far and wide,
But I've always wanted something else.
You see, I've lost my share too."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She refused to answer me.
We ate the rest of our dinner almost silently.
We infected each other with yawns.
After I put our plates in the dishwasher,
The woman looked at the clock on her phone.
"Four and a half in the morning," she said,
Then looked up at me almost defiantly:
"You'll sleep with me the rest of the night.
We'll feel good in each other's arms."
I was exhausted, my thoughts still spun.
Although I feared waking up next to her
Only to see a grimace of regret in her face,
I knew this dream wouldn't repeat itself.
"That sounds great, but I must warn you:
I am dealing with serious insomnia
Even when I'm this exhausted,
Which is part of why I frequented clubs
And spent so many nights outside."
She smiled warmly at me,
Which gave me tingles in my stomach.
"Do your thing in the bathroom," she said,
"Then join me in the bedroom you know."
In the bathroom, I found a new toothbrush;
I wanted to taste fresh if she kissed me.
I dared to look at my forty years old body:
A saggy sack of old, hairy, unhealthy skin
That could produce only disgust and shame.
And yet, that woman had taken me in.
When I entered the bedroom, she was nude,
Standing there as she held a glass of water
In which some drug was dissolving.
"Drink this," she told me. "You'll fall asleep."
I was so grateful, I'd drink anything of hers.
She was stunned when I took the glass
And gulped it down without a word.
She put her hand on my shoulder.
"I handle drugs regularly through my job,
And I'm good at keeping any person
In any kind of physical state I want."
She led me to the bed by the hand.
It might have been the placebo effect,
But I already felt much sleepier.
I lay down, and she climbed in beside me,
Then covered us with the sheets.
I felt the warmth of her breath on my neck,
And her silky skin brushed against mine.
Her soft lips were touching my ear
As I thought about how I had wasted my life.
All my years had been a nightmare
Of loneliness and defeat.
I closed my eyes because I felt so vulnerable
That I would have started crying silently.
I heard the ghost of her voice in my head:
"Just let go, and I'll take good care of you."
I recall shivering, burning as with a fever.
I couldn't tell if I was asleep or awake.
Although my body wanted to turn,
I felt shackled, locked in that pose.
When I opened my eyes, I saw my left arm,
Which was outstretched and cuffed,
And an IV catheter was inserted in my vein.
I couldn't move, and I kept shivering.
Sunlight was streaming through the high windows.
The woman was buttoning a sky blue blouse,
Which she tucked into her sober black trousers.
Her hair looked professionally styled,
And she was wearing shiny earrings.
The woman noticed that I was awake,
And adjusted her cufflinks as she approached me.
"I have to spend the afternoon at the lab,
But I'll feed you when I come back," she said.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"Don't bother," she said. "You won't produce a sound
With the mix of drugs that I'm feeding you.
Just endure it, the shivers, the fever, the pain,
Because it will all be worth it in the end."
I glanced at the IV tube connected to my arm,
But the woman just stared softly at me.
"When you need to pee or shit,
Just let go in your diaper.
I'll clean up after you later."
I was too weak to even move my neck.
She leaned in to kiss my forehead,
Then turned and left through the door.
In the drug-induced trance, I heard her car
As its engine started, and then it drove away.
August 2, 2021
Saving the Roman Empire (Poetry)
When I'm standing on the bus
Or sitting on the train on my way to work,
I either work on that novel I wrote in May,
Or I lose myself in my usual daydreams,
Which have a theme in common:
I either save a person from their brokenness,
Or I return in time to fix some horrible disaster
(Which involves someone's death,
Or a vast empire having fallen before its time)
Since I finished reading my favorite manga,
Inio Asano's 'Oyasumi Punpun',
Almost every night I lost myself in a daydream
In which that story played out differently;
The main character wasn't so disturbed,
And he didn't run away from those needing help
(I can't be more specific about that daydream,
Because it would involve massive spoilers)
However, ever since I wrote my latest novel,
Those soothing nightly daydreams
Turned into me visiting my fictional girlfriend
(Which I made up entirely in my mind,
And who incorporated my own depression)
To fall asleep to a secure, loving relationship
That all my real ones failed to be
(I met her after she visited me at random times,
As if she'd been summoned by my calling,
On trains and buses and escalators;
She walked right over to me, hand extended,
But beneath this mild happy smile
Was the sadness of the world coming for me)
I've wanted to write about a superhero
Who can go back in time to save dead people,
And stops time before those people die,
Then disappears while remaining anonymous
This fictional alter ego of mine reappears
In my daydreams when someone of note dies,
Or at least someone whose death bothers me
(Like random pedestrians getting obliterated
In YouTube compilations of car accidents;
I'm not sure how come YouTube allows
Videos of people getting hit by cars and trucks,
But I was the kind of kid who searched for gore
In obscure websites from the early 2000s,
Because I'm attracted to death and mayhem)
My alternate selves sometimes appear as well
In periods of history when they are needed most;
I daydream of a team of time travellers
Who are scholars studying alternate timelines
To correct some of the worst disasters in history,
Or else to discover what would happen instead
I consider that Western civilization died with Rome,
And that we have been inhabiting a corpse since then,
One where the values it should embody do not exist;
I daydream of visiting the Roman senate
During the reign of the great Marcus Aurelius
(The last emperor of the Pax Romana,
Before the empire devolved into utter craziness)
The team of time travellers comes down
To introduce themselves to the baffled senate,
And after the team presents the world globe
(I wonder how the Romans would have dealt
With the discovery of a whole new continent),
The time travellers focus on solving the issue
Of the many invaders along the long borders
Of the overexpanded Roman Empire:
I'd introduce the MG 34 machine gun
By training a couple of legionaries
On how to obliterate Iron Age armies
Afterwards I'd give them the schematics
And elaborate on how to develop the industries
That would produce both the machine guns
And the large quantities of bullets necessary
For a full century war against invading hordes;
That would take care of the Sassanid Empire
As well as the many tribes of barbarians:
The Huns, the Vandals, the Visigoths, etc.
(In another mission, the time travellers
Visited a depressed China after years of famine,
And after the team saved them, it disappeared
And became a part of Chinese mythology)
I would introduce the Romans to electricity:
How to build batteries and power plants,
And the myriad of devices they could make;
That would segue into telegraphs,
And how to wire their entire empire
So the news would travel very quickly;
Instead of having to send letters by horse,
The info would come through wires of copper
These major advancements would be enough
To physically save my esteemed empire,
But their minds would still be at risk
From alien ideologies from the Middle East:
They would be wary of monotheistic religions,
Whose mobs would have otherwise destroyed
The temples and libraries filled with wisdom
That would have been lost forever
(When I visited the cathedral in Oviedo,
The history lessons went on cheerfully
About how the saints had been canonized
For their tireless efforts to root out paganism,
Which ended up plunging this part of the world
Into about 1,500 years of superstitious darkness;
The Romans, despite their own superstitions,
Were about to invent the Industrial Revolution,
Their medical science remained unbeaten,
And many of their majestic buildings still stand)
I wanted to state that I love the Roman Empire,
That it should have endured to this day,
With its badass legions, its universal language,
Its philosophers, its architecture, its arts,
And mainly their glorious men and women
Who transformed humanity from barbarism
To a civilization that stood strong for a millennia
(I wish for the Roman Empire to return
Whenever I go outside and look around)
Anyway, like there's that isekai genre in Japan,
I wish there was a genre about time travellers
Who just went to the past and changed stuff
And left everything in peace afterwards,
But stories need a significant amount of conflict
To raise from the level of mere anecdotes
(That's the problem with daydreams:
They are about feeling good, correcting wrongs,
But the stories that work are about challenges)
I have always relied on daydreaming
To escape from this unpleasant reality
And having to inhabit this broken body;
I guess it's the poor man's version of VR
(Although I played Skyrim in VR yesterday)
My point is that if I had a superpower,
I'd either be invisible or a time traveller,
So I could go back in time and save people
(And possibly entire empires)
From their unfair deaths or collapses,
And after everything returned to normal,
I would be happy to have done some good
Instead of spending my time writing shit
Like the poem you've just read
July 31, 2021
I Will Never Drive a Big Rig (Poetry)
Link for this poem on my personal page, where it looks better
---
---
I rely on taking breaks from the world to endure it,
Whether through sleeping (despite my insomnia),
Writing, or through the wonders of virtual reality;
Today, a Saturday, I woke up so exhausted,
And mentally drained from a long week at work
(I'll never get used to returning home at night),
That after eating I only wanted to take a nap;
My mind remained foggy and sluggish,
So I knew I wouldn't write anything of value,
But I didn't want to sleep through the day,
So I returned to my comfort game in VR,
Which consists on driving virtual trucks around
Due to how my brain works from birth,
I've never learned to drive;
My mind takes flight by itself,
And when it returns to reality,
I have to reacquaint myself
With whatever I was doing
I've talked with other autistic people,
And some understand what I mean,
But others are driving safely to this day
(Then again, autism seems to be caused
By atypical pruning of neuron connections
In babies' brains as they develop,
Producing different overall configurations)
(There was this guy who crashed many times,
And who got his driver's license revoked,
But he had taken so many drugs in his youth
That he now suffers from epileptic seizures)
My point is that my wiring is all fucked up,
And I rarely know how much I care about things,
Except maybe for food and shelter and sex
(And VR also helps with one of those things)
My mind takes flight even when I try to focus;
I don't think anybody has noticed at work,
Although I keep being absent in conversations,
But my inability to stick to reality
Constantly ends up with me rear-ending
The poor bastard who was driving in front of me
Thankfully this only happens in video games,
Such as when I'm driving a virtual truck,
But if I was able to drive my own vehicle,
I'm sure I would crash in less than a week,
Or maybe I would obey my nagging thoughts
About driving straight, full speed, into a wall
(Besides, I've never had a stable job;
I rarely know if enough money will come in,
So I can hardly justify buying a vehicle
When the public transport is so good here)
Learning to endure my lot in life
Has depended on me facing the reality
That I'm equipped with two different brains:
One the analytical, slower one on top,
And the other the primordial, bestial brain
Which takes most of the decisions for us
While the analytical brain makes up a story
(So it can keep telling itself that it's in charge)
Immersing myself in VR is a constant reminder
That although my PC is producing the world,
My primitive brain is deceived easily,
So I get to escape for a while from my life
Because my stupid brain is convinced
That I'm a trucker driving through Europe
While listening to popular tunes
(From annoying modern music
To the rock classics from decades ago,
But all of them feel good while driving)
When you're trapped inside a truck cab,
You stop thinking about your problems,
And if the right song ends up playing,
It'll make you feel like you're on the road
With the wind blowing through the windows,
As you drive across the plains of France
While the sun shines in the sky,
And the beautiful landscapes never end
(But the VR journeys always end,
Because I have to return to my real life,
And I need to remember to eat and sleep
If I want to continue driving a truck
In the virtual reality, where I am king
Of the highway, and my trucks rule the land)
Driving a virtual truck fills me with nostalgia
About a world I haven't experienced in reality,
That involves sitting inside a huge metal box
Which would explode into mush any human
Who was stupid enough to walk in front of it
My virtual trucks make me feel powerful and free,
And like I could drive to the ends of the Earth,
If I could afford all the gasoline it would take
And if my trucks wouldn't break down so often
Being a trucker sounds like a blissful life,
But many things sound good when imagined;
In reality, you need to sleep at fixed times,
At random rest areas frequented by weirdoes
Who may decide to break into your truck,
And I doubt that the deliveries pay enough,
Or else most truckers would be filthy rich;
They don't seem to have much luck at making
A living off their trucks, although they are kings
Still, I want to drive through the desert
While listening to radio stations,
And singing along to the music,
And worrying about being abducted by aliens,
(And coming across ghost hitchhikers,
Or sasquatches that crossed the road)
My mind would keep drifting away from reality
While I thought about the important stuff,
Like how to repair my truck's engine,
Or when I should pick up the next prostitute,
Or whether I should become a serial killer
When my mind would return to reality,
I would have crashed into a telephone pole,
And there would be suspicious splatters,
Huge and red ones, dirtying my windshield,
But luckily I wouldn't have died,
So I would keep driving around town
Till my truck started to smoke;
Then I'd find a motel room
Where I could spend the night
(I would be woken up by a loud alarm clock,
And I'd start my day with a cup of coffee,
Then I'd drive my truck back to the shop
For repairs, or to get a new one)
I never became a trucker,
I will never drive a big rig,
And those are my biggest regrets in life,
But maybe there's time to move to Brazil,
Where I could rent a truck and drive straight
Into that goddamn Amazon jungle,
To be the first to cut it through
With my huge metal box I'd sit in,
While I listened to the radio
And failed to see another person
For days at a time
(Unless I drove into them)
My brain feels like shit today,
But I'm a failure if I don't produce a text,
So I wrote these words that I hope you enjoyed,
And now I can return to my virtual trucks
And my virtual life, which is just as real
As the one I live in (although it's not)
