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Old 04-27-2007   #1
EmperorChaos
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Based on a True Story

Okay... so this is a short story that I don't often share with people because it shows what kind of a guy I am. But whatever, I get made fun of on this forum for everything so I don't really give a fuck.

This is the first part. Feel free to either read it here and the second part in the next post. Or download the MS Word file attached and read it with it's original formatting.

I'd appreciate any feedback you might have. I'm going to highlight some lines that I particularly liked. But most of the good stuff is in the second part.

The first part is about me meeting her online and contains descriptions of who she is to me, and also what I am into sexually.

The second part in the next post is when we actually meet. I find this part to be written much better. I think it was at this point that I started feeling really drunk. (My friend Carrie paid me in booze to write a short story for her--this was what came out.)



Delirious Koneko
Welcome to reality. Welcome to the Digital Age. Welcome, reader, to the illimitable plethora of pornography, personal web pages, gambling, electronic mail, information, remote login to other computers via Terminal Control Protocol/Internet Protocol devices, file transferring including cracked software and downloadable music/video files, and instant message chat services. Welcome to the place where I met her. Welcome to the Internet.
I didn’t start it. The day I met her I learned a Japanese word. I learned a word in a foreign tongue that I will never forget. The word is koneko and it means “kitten.” Her AOL screen name was Deliriouskoneko and she started it by instant messaging me first. Behind the handle of Deliriouskoneko breathed a girl named Brighton Helen Kady. As it turned out, she had done a search for atheists living in South Carolina and my screen name had popped up. We introduced ourselves:
Deliriouskoneko: Hi.
EmperorChaos: Uh… hi. Do I know you?
Deliriouskoneko: No, I found your screen name by searching for atheists. My name is Brighton and I also live in South Carolina. In Mount Pleasant.
EmperorChaos: Oh, cool. I live in Hanahan. My name is Jason.
We chatted for several hours that day, discovering that we both maintained similar interests. Her tastes in music paralleled my own. So many people only listen to one genre of music so one can imagine such a treasure to be found in someone who listens to many different genres. From punk bands such as Bad Religion, the Dead Kennedys, and Anti-Flag to indie rock groups like the Pixies, Radiohead, and the Dandy Warhols, she listened to it all. We were both avid fans of Kevin Smith’s movies, Clerks and Mallrats especially. Her dad had instilled the almighty fury of the Star Wars Trilogy into her mind, and who doesn’t appreciate a good Indiana Jones movie? We had both read the Lord of the Rings trilogy as well as a lot of old classics like Robinson Crusoe. She was also very familiar with many authors especially since her father was not only a librarian for the College of Charleston, but also because he was a bookbinder as a second job. Some of her favorite authors included Tom Robbins, Irvine Welsh, Kurt Vonnegut, and C. S. Lewis. She was the sunbeams piercing through a cloudy sky. She was so incredible to me that I asked her to call me.

She called my house and I promptly answered the phone. There would be many long hours of discourse between the two of us. I would stay up on the phone with her until the early hours of the morning, and then I would catch a few hours of sleep before I had to go to school at Hanahan High School where I was a senior. Our telephone conversations ranged from our interests as described above to the topic of sex. This was the part where I normally get edgy. I’m not the kind of traditional male to which most people are accustomed. I do not prefer the missionary-style sexual position. I don’t want to be “on top.” Have you ever seen any of the Jerry Springer Shows where they bring out a scantily-clad woman in leather wielding a whip, wearing a sinister face, and sporting a superior attitude? Those women are known as dominatrixes, and it is in these women that I am interested. When the topic of sex was brought up, I explained it to Brighton as best I could, emphasizing that I felt the need to worship a female and submit to her will. I cringed. For many years I had been explaining this to all girls I met. For many years I had gotten responses like “Eww! Repulsive!” or “You need psychiatric treatment!” and I dealt with it by simply never talking to the girl again. However, this girl was different. She didn’t seem to be offended or sickened by what I said at all. She seemed to be intrigued by what I had told her. In fact, the next day she penned a story for me that she shared with me over the phone the following night.

She began, “You are walking downtown near the battery late one autumn night when a sudden downpour catches you by surprise. Quickly, you glance around looking for a place to find refuge. You soon find that your search for shelter from the storm proves fruitless as the trees do not provide enough canopy to stop the rain and the wind blows stinging raindrops into your cheeks under the gazebo where you now stand. How does that sound so far Jason?”

“Beautiful! You’ve definitely got some writing talent there,” I answered, “but please, go on.”

“Thank you. I enjoy writing,” she said before she continued, “You decide that the only way to get out of the storm is to find someone who will allow you to wait it out in their home. You walk up to the porch of the only house you can see with any lights on and knock on the front door. I answer the door wearing a night robe with a puzzled look on my face. I ask how I could help you and you respond explaining the situation involving the unrelenting rain and chilling winds. I invite you inside and take you upstairs, giving you a towel and asking that you lie down on my bed and warm up. You wrap yourself up in the towel and sink into the soft confines of my bed. I tell you that I am going to change into some clothes and that you can just remain where you are. While I am gone, you doze off. I return with a smirk on my face because this is exactly what I wanted. I take each of your arms and handcuff them to the bedposts.”

Brighton stopped reading. “Do you want me to continue?” she queried.

“Of course!” I replied. “You can’t stop now. It’s just starting to get interesting.”

“Okay. So your arms are bound to the bed and you’re asleep. I slowly climb onto the bed and quietly lift my leg over you so that I can sit down on your stomach. I think for a minute about what I should do now with my helpless victim when it hits me. No, it hits you. I slap you across your face with my hand. Startled, you snap to life and instinctively lunge forward, but the handcuffs and the weight of me sitting on you stop you from moving much. Your face shows mixed signs of surprise, delight, and a hint of fear. I then explain that I have to get some form of payment for allowing you to stay in my house during a storm. I demand that you give me a foot massage. You smile and ask how you’re supposed to do that when you’re handcuffed to a bed. I move my right leg and position it so that my foot is directly above your face. Then I tell you to use your tongue and mouth to do it. My foot presses down on your face and I relish the feeling of your moist tongue brushing against the sole of my foot. You begin to use your mouth to massage my foot and I’m actually surprised that you seem to know what you’re doing. I decide to heat things up a bit and demand that you suck my toes. I suppress an ecstatic squeal as your mouth closes in around my big toe. I can feel your tongue licking the underside of it. Then I notice that your eyes are closed. You’re actually enjoying this! I think to myself that now would be a good time to see how much of this you really enjoy. How far will my new slave be willing to go? I withdraw my foot from the battlegrounds of your face and stand up. I tell you that now I’m going to do something you will find rather strange. I take off my night robe revealing myself to you. Now your face is sporting a look of bewilderment. I step forward until I am standing directly above your head and without hesitation I…”

The silence I received from the dead phone line struck a deafening blow to my erection. The blue flash of lightning immediately followed by barking thunder told me what happened. My power had gone out. She had come to me like a dream and had been telling me a story that I was enjoying, but just as the best part started, it all ended so abruptly. Sitting alone in my dark bedroom I realized something. This girl was far too good to be true. She was everything that I could want in someone. I had to meet her soon. No longer could I bear to only speak with her through a computer or over the phone. It had to be done.
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The first thing that came into being, void and without form, a lifeless lump, unfashioned and unframed, the Prima Materia from which all comes, influenced by forms and given structure by matter it becomes all that is, with increase in entropy it is into which all shall fall, endlessly and in all directions, a self-reflexive paradox.
-=-=-=-
"Self-education is, I firmly believe, the only kind of education there is." -Isaac Asimov

Last edited by Emperor Chaos; 01-12-2008 at 08:26 AM.
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Old 04-27-2007   #2
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Re: Based on a True Story

We agreed to meet downtown at Sharky’s Pizza on King Street. I told her I couldn’t get there until after five p.m. because I had to do something at school. She said I should be there at six. I arrived downtown at a quarter to six and, upon stepping out of my car, got the traditional butterflies associated with nervousness. As I walked down King Street, I thought about everything we had talked about since I met her online. I thought about how great she was for me. I also thought about what she had said last night.

“I’ll meet you at Sharky’s Pizza with some of my friends. We’ll be waiting at the round table near the front window. And Jason… I’m going to jump into your arms and slap you.”

I had told her that that sounded great and I remembered thinking about how I finally found someone with whom I’d want to be. I’d soon be meeting my dominatrix. I just looked. There isn’t an adjective in the thesaurus for how happy I felt. I passed George Street. I was almost there. The butterflies in my stomach had already mated and died. Caterpillars now crawled in my belly. Caterpillars were eating my insides and forming cocoons in my lungs. Stop. Take a moment to breathe. I was only meeting a girl from the Internet. It wasn’t that important, was it?

Yes. Yes it was. I paused in front of a store window. I adjusted my shirt. What was the point? She was only going to jump into my arms and throw it askew again. I ran my fingers through my hair. What was I doing now? She had said she was going to slap me and that would only mess up my hair. Subconsciously I was doing something I never do. I was actually trying to make a good first impression. I continued walking. There it was. The little shark wearing a sailor’s hat was grinning at me. I grinned back as I walked forward and pushed open the door. I was inside so I turned immediately to my right. There was the round table with three people sitting at it. I recognized one instantly.

Have you ever seen one of those postcards from Florida depicting a tropical island with a few palm trees on it? Blue palm trees formed Brighton's punk rock hairstyle. Green eyes were looking at me deeply. The cutest nose that had ever existed was inhaling oxygen for her. Red lips parted to greet me.

“Hello Jason.”

I remember thinking, “Good! She recognized me immediately too. That must mean that I’m not as obsessed as I think I am.”

“Uh… hey Brigh…,” but before I could finish her name she had already jumped. My arms were right on cue as they intuitively snatched her from the air. Once she was in my arms, her right hand came to greet my cheek with a severely sharp slap.

We ordered a pizza, sat down, and began a conversation. She introduced me to her friends, but I didn’t pay them much attention. Our pizza arrived and everyone ate. The conversation shifted between Brighton and me and Brighton and her friends. We spent about an hour there before Brighton's friends got up to leave. Brighton and I decided to go somewhere. We walked to my car while discussing the possible places that we could go. It didn’t really matter where we went. The only thing that mattered was if I was going there with her. I had found someone.

Over the next month Brighton and I spent a lot of time together. During those times we watched movies, listened to music, and took walks around her neighborhood. In late November, we attended a theatrical play. Autumn curtsied through half of December before the curtain fell. The curtain rose the next morning with winter bowing before me. Christmas performed an excellent monologue and New Years returned with its own soliloquy. January and February finished off the final act and exited stage left. The manager March maliciously marched onto the stage. He handed me a telephone.

“How long have you been dating him?” I asked her, containing the anger within me. At least she wouldn’t be able to see how upset I was over the phone.

“Since September.”

“September?! I met you in October! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I didn’t think you would care. It’s not like I was trying to hide him from you. You never asked if I was in a relationship,” she explained.

“Didn’t you realize that I had feelings for you? Didn’t you think that with all the things we did that I would feel something? What about that story? You were telling me that story that you never finished. My electricity went out, remember?” There was another question I wanted to ask too. I wanted to ask if she ever felt anything for me. I didn’t though; I was afraid of the answer.

“I didn’t think you would have any feelings for me. I thought we were just spending time as friends. And yeah… I remember the story. I did write it for you. You were interested in the subject, and so was I. Look, maybe we would be better off just not talking to each other.”

I was standing on the tracks when the freight train hauling those words hit me. I didn’t know what to say. I just stood facing a wall, holding a phone pressed against my right ear. The phone dropped and I fell to my knees. Tears created pathways down my cheeks. A geyser of tears gushed from my eyes. Tears from here on.

She seemed to be able to move on without thinking twice about me. She was willing to forget I ever existed. How could someone so great come into my life changing everything and then leave me with nothing? I gave up talking to old friends for her. One of those old friends was my best friend. I started doing drugs because she did them and that was something we could share together. She broke my heart. No, that’s too simple and trite. She plunged her fist into my chest, wrenched out my bleeding heart, shredded it to pieces with her fingernails, threw it on top of some dog shit lying on the ground, spat on it, and walked away. She didn’t even look back to see if I was all right. She didn’t turn around to see if I was still there. If only she had just glanced back at me, even if it was only to watch the flies gathering around the pieces of my cardiac organ. At least that final gaze would have been some solace.

Where does one go from here? Can things get better? I can see a light ahead. Is this what I was waiting for? I hear laughter. Children are laughing somewhere nearby. I hear crying. Somewhere an old woman is dying. Where is my kitten? I want my koneko. Here kitty kitty kitty! I need to start thinking more clearly now. She isn’t my kitten. I can’t post fliers and hope that someone will call saying that they’ve found her. It doesn’t work like that. All these thoughts keep racing through my head. Where can I turn for comfort? Where do the cold days end? Where has the sunshine gone? Will I find love again? (Note 1) I must clear my mind and just stop thinking. Thinking about this desolation will only drive me crazy. Despondency will soon settle into my conscious.

I squeezed. I felt the piercing of the bullet. I felt the thunderous crack as steel fucked bone and left without even staying for breakfast in the morning. (Note 2) I felt the phallic-shaped metal object displace vital brain matter.

Welcome to reality.

-=-=-=-=-

Note 1: This is a song lyric from Prayer for Cleansing's "Sonnet". Actually, this short story is teeming with references to many bands as well as things that occurred in my life. Tears from here on, for example, is a reference to a band called From Here On and my favorite song of theirs "Tears." It's also one of my screen names. Ha!

Note 2: This line is taken from another piece of work I did about a white-boy wannabe gansta explaining why he chose the wrong path in life.

-=-=-=-

If you read it, I hope you enjoy it. I just felt it was time to post something else I'd written in the past. I never seem to write anything new anymore. Instead, I dwell on my old writings as if they are some kind of ancient text worthy of admiring.

Good night. I have to go out on a date now.
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The first thing that came into being, void and without form, a lifeless lump, unfashioned and unframed, the Prima Materia from which all comes, influenced by forms and given structure by matter it becomes all that is, with increase in entropy it is into which all shall fall, endlessly and in all directions, a self-reflexive paradox.
-=-=-=-
"Self-education is, I firmly believe, the only kind of education there is." -Isaac Asimov

Last edited by Emperor Chaos; 01-12-2008 at 08:28 AM. Reason: Names changed to protect the innocent.
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Old 04-29-2007   #3
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Re: Based on a True Story

That was actually pretty cool. Very well written. You should start writing x rated romance novels. hehehe
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Old 04-30-2007   #4
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Re: Based on a True Story

Thanks for responding. But no, that's not my style. And really, that story within the story is more or less what the girl actually wrote, when this really happened.

I like to write crazy stories. Or mystery type ones. Or ones about history.

I never post any of my stories here... or anywhere... anymore. Because no one ever reads them. Not that I care.

Hell, I don't even actually write that much anymore.
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Old 04-30-2007   #5
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Re: Based on a True Story

You should write and send it to me. I'll read them! I really liked what you had wrote.
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...One step closer.
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Old 04-30-2007   #6
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Re: Based on a True Story

''In late November, we attended a theatrical play. Autumn curtsied through half of December before the curtain fell. The curtain rose the next morning with winter bowing before me. Christmas performed an excellent monologue and New Years returned with its own soliloquy. January and February finished off the final act and exited stage left. The manager March maliciously marched onto the stage.''

very nice...this was my favorite.
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Old 05-01-2007   #7
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Re: Based on a True Story

Hold up right there. I'm going to have to call the cops. This is a little too violent.
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