Client 8: Unknown

“Hello?”
“Hi there.”
“Hi Daddy.”
*Chuckles* “I’m actually not calling for that. This is a cheaper form of therapy. I would like your opinion on something, if you can take a step back from your character for a minute.”
“Depends what the question is.”
“Do you think men benefit more, or less, from being raised around a lot of women?”
“Hmm… That’s an interesting question. May I ask where this is coming from?”
“My entire dating experience.”
“And how would you describe it?”
“Well, let me kind of go back to the beginning. I’ll keep it as brief as possible. I grew up in the 90’s. Girl power and all that from the Spice Girls, TLC, etc. I was also just around women all the time. I figured, who better to know what they like and learn from- absorb the info, you know?”
“Makes sense. I don’t see any issue so far.”
“This translated into my becoming more emotionally aware which, again, sounds great, but it hasn’t been.”
“Why’s that?”
“I keep meeting women who seem to hate it rather than it benefiting. You hear the narrative so often you start believing it, becoming it.”
“And it’s been the exact opposite.”
“Yes. I’m in my 30’s, do you think there’s time to change, or because there wasn’t an equal amount of male influence in my life that it’s a lost cause?”
“I think there’s still time. You’re not old, but you’re also not quite young either. If you’re wondering if you can just erase everything you’ve learned, I’ll say no. But it might be best to just…I don’t know, ease up? If that makes sense?”
“Be less of who I am and become partly something I’m not?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“But how do I do that?”
“You might actually need a professional to give advice on that. Unfortunately this is where I’ll have to drop my expertise, or lack thereof.”
“I think this was helpful enough. Thank you…What was your name?”
“Candy Cane.”
*Chuckles* “That’s a perfect character name. May I use it?”
“Are you a writer?”
“God I hope so.”

Drabble #94

In my head, we’re married. A kid. Son. Intelligent. Handsome. My smile, your furrowed brow. Your long hair, my poor eyesight.

“Hey Pop!”

In my head, we’ve been married for years. Love is wonderful. Can’t get enough of it.

“Hey it’s Little Einstein!”

In my head, we dance drunkenly while laughing. We’re intoxicated with one another.

“You’re aging well old man. Mom too.”

In my head, we die the same time so we don’t live without one another. Our life was fruitful.

“You’ve got something to look forward to.”

I don’t want to live in my head.

Drabble #93

I get it now. All this time asking myself “what is it about me…” and I finally received the answer I’ve needed.

I’m too affectionate. Not off the bat, but first date it’s present. Even when it’s wanted/appreciated/consented to.

Starved for it, and didn’t even realize I was damaging everything by dishing it. I need to keep my hands to myself. Start using my words.

“I’m interested in you.”

But what does that even mean if the absence of affection is present?

Damaged Boy- A Short Story

His ex girlfriend was coming over. Not in that way. He just wanted to talk, be friends. He was approaching the ages where friends just aren’t a thing anymore, or hard(er) to come by. He needed a space that was comfort, like warm soup on a cold day, to ease the uneasiness in his mind, body, and soul.

“What happened?” She asked, taking a seat on his couch.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You gotta have some idea.”
Another shrug. “I really don’t. It’s always the same: a ‘but…’ at the end of every ending.”

She was quiet while shifting in her seat. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“You don’t deserve this.”
“I must.”
She shook her head, he watched her from the corner of his eye. “You don’t.” A hand found its way onto his forearm, rested there.
“I just…I don’t know. You know? If I’m so smart, and all that, why- I don’t know.”

He sort of knew. It didn’t matter how much love he had to give and wanted in return, nor did it matter that he wasn’t quite sure how to give it. He never learned how to accept it. Something that’s taught at an early age by a loving parent.

What’s too much love, not enough? A simple “great job” or “I’m proud of you” goes a long way. He didn’t know what that felt like, but he’s imagined it. He’s imagined a lot of things like mattering to another person, being “included” in someone’s life. Enough to want to try. No “but…” at the end because he made them feel like it was the end; no more searching. He’s great and I’m glad to have found him.

“Why didn’t my mother hug me?” He didn’t say it in an Oedipus way but rather “didn’t my mother love me enough to hug me?”

She was there, gave him a bit of guidance, but emotionally he now knows she seemed “checked out.” Planted a seed, didn’t watch it grow or nurture it. Left him there to figure it all out on his own. Stretch his pedals to the sunlight out of concrete.

His touch was soft because his heart was. Last time he ever received what’s he’s been searching for had been rough. Not the journey but the literal act. Still, accepting it is something he could not comprehend. But he wanted to give it, so badly.

He hadn’t realized it until he felt something fall from his chin but he had been crying. Couldn’t even remember the last time this happened. He didn’t even want to be held. Is this the result of when someone is shown no affection? He desperately wanted to lay his head on his ex girlfriends lap. But, like the act of crying, something terrible held him in place.

“Please, don’t,” he quickly said as she rose from the couch. So much love to give and yet, he doesn’t know what to do with it. Poor flower.

Fade to Black- A Short Story

To be submitted to all major porn sites.

Plot: The aftermath of all teen movies. We only ever see the nerdy “hero” get the girl at the end. Suggestive markers give the illusion the new couple will be having sex (the camera tends to rise and eventually fade in the sky or simply fade out as they kiss over whatever pop punk band’s song was created as the movies central theme).
*This is the story of their sex lives once the world has seen the two become one. A parody, if you will.*
The male protagonist has to look like the typical white boy, perhaps an older version of a music.ly kid like Jacob Satorius or Matty B (do any men in the porn industry even look like this?) Hell, the YouTuber leafyishere would work. 
The female protagonist is a new generation’s Hayden Panettiere or Megan Fox. Emma Stone works just fine, as it translates well in said market despite it being unrealistic (isn’t that what porn depicts anyway?).
This would work best if the scene is as awkward as possible. Make the male protagonist appear as if he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing while the female protagonist isn’t experienced per se but the audience has no clue. She becomes like a teacher of sorts (think of Fogel’s sex scene in Superbad).
The two eventually break up because emotionally they may be somewhat compatible but the sex just doesn’t click.
In essence, a love story without it looking like one but it’s also not an average porn scene.
To be filmed over three scenes with the final act as their breakup (maybe even deliver a plot twist that he’s actually a Don Juan of sorts after all, she just couldn’t feel him inside her?).
Absurd captions show up before credits such as “(male protagonist’s name) eventually got loads of pussy in college becoming the biggest player the schools ever seen while seeing huge success in his career later on” and “(female protagonist’s name) regretted breaking up with (male protagonist’s name) eventually becoming a sugar baby to a sixty year old man who died two weeks later when she amassed a huge fortune, but it wasn’t enough because she missed (male protagonist’s name).”
Fade to Black over a generic pop punk song

Client 7: Mortimer

“Hello?”

Heavy breathing, soft grunts

“…You there daddy?”

Grunts become more audible “Say something else you bad girl.”

“Are you okay daddy?”

Grunts become intensified, loud panting “Thank you, sweetie. Now, can I put you on hold for a moment?”

“Su..sure daddy.”

 

Five minutes later…

 

“You there baby girl?”

“Yes daddy, I’m here. Is everything alright?”

“Oh yea, it’s great. I just had to clean up. This is the fifth time I’ve jerked off today. I needed a voice. God, these urges are so goddamn inconvenient. You know what I mean?”

“I do, daddy. I get wet whenever the wind blows. So I’m super horny in the winter, haha.”

“Oh you’re such a bad girl, I can tell.”

“I’m a very bad girl, daddy. I need to be punished.”

“How would you like daddy to punish you?”

“Please spank me daddy.”

“I’m slapping you with my dick. You like that? You like when my pink cock helicopters your pretty face?”

“Mmmm daddy! My pussy needs you!”

“You will wait for daddy. Put a finger in your ass and taste it.”

“I taste good daddy. You want a taste?”

“Yes. Put your finger back in your ass and feed daddy….that’s a good girl.”

“Can I taste you now daddy?”

“You…wanna eat daddy’s ass?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Stroke daddy’s dick first….that’s a good girl. Now, inch your tongue all the way down…oooooh you’re such a good girl..I’m gonna come…”

*Loud grunts, panting*

“How was that daddy?”

“You’re the best, baby girl. This is different from beating my meat to porn. The same, in a way, but also, different. You know?”

“I know daddy. Too bad I can’t give you the real thing?”

“You…you would be willing to give me the real thing?”

“That’s against the rules, daddy.”

“But you just said-”

“It’s part of the role, daddy. You should know that.”

“I do.” Teeth sucking noise “I just…it’s so hard to meet people nowadays, I- I have to put you back on hold.”

 

Five minutes later…

 

“Sorry about that princess. Like I was saying, it’s so difficult meeting someone. Work gets in the way, not to mention this…well, impulse of mine.”

“I understand daddy. You’ll meet someone who will fully satisfy you. I know it.”

“Will they stick a finger in my ass, milk my prostate like you?”

“Sure daddy.”

“Thank you princess. I needed to hear that. Look at that, my dick isn’t even in my hand right now. Progress, haha.”

“Happy to help daddy.”

“You’re a saint, baby girl.”

Double Standards- A Short Story

The short YouTube video finished and just as the next was about to play (stupid autoplay) he pressed paused, slid backwards in his chair, and left the table for his roommates room. He knocked on the door before entering where he found Marcus sitting in front of his TV with a PS4 controller in his hands. “You got a sec?”

Marcus paused the game and turned. “You’re lucky I’m stumped. What’s up?”

“Have you ever seen videos on this black chick on YouTube talking about feminist issues?”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific. I’ve seen far too many to stomach.”
“She sounds like a BuzzFeed article. Wuthering something…”
“Afro?”
“Yes! That’s her. Have you seen her latest video?”
“Not since someone else debunked her idiotic narrative about toxic masculinity.”
“Okay, well, in this video she talks about sexual harassment, right. Basically she said catcalling is a form of it. Also, that men need to quote check their male friends unquote when they make sexual innuendos in private.”

Marcus quickly unpaused the game, defeated a few incoming enemies, then turned his attention back behind him. “Meaning what, exactly? That if I tell you in private that I wanna slurp some girls ass it’s your job to tell me to stop that?”

“I’m a nutshell.”
“That’s absurd. Everyone does that. Who’s it harming?”
“Well, I know a lot of guys who do it, but do women do it too?”
“You’re joking right?”
“Should I be?”

Marcus got up. “Have you never seen how women objectify men on the internet? In screenshots of group chat conversations?”

He shook his head.

“Women are sexual creatures just like us. You don’t think women are telling their friends- gay men, straight and lesbian women alike- how much they wanna deepthroat some guy or how they want him in their guts? Difference is, we don’t care that they’re saying it, but not for the reasons they think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Walking up to a woman is, by default, a sign that you find her attractive, no?”
“Sure.”
“Right. So, there’s no need to actually verbalize this. It’s implied. Just like we know that they’re thinking about us in an objectifying way. Women know off the bat if they’re gonna fuck you unless you say or do something to completely fuck that up. They know we wanna fuck them so they wait for us to say something dumb. We know they may wanna fuck us so we try our hardest not to say or do something dumb. You follow?”

“So you’re saying, as a default state, we just let them objectify us so long as they don’t verbalize it because, like us, it’s normal.”
“Exactly. Why’s it wrong to tell your friends what you’d like to do to someone so long as we don’t turn said person into an object. Why should we vilify one set of people doing it while allowing the other to get away with it completely.”
“I see.”

Marcus sat back down. “This is why 3rd wave feminism is trash, dude. It’s making men look guilty for shit they themselves have been doing for as long as us. You think even during Tupperware parties these married women weren’t throwing innuendos about their husbands around? Of course they were. They’re human, we all love sex and talking about it.”

He left the room as explosions could be heard from the TV as well as an audible grunt from his roommate.