Damned Fiction

by David Kempf

  On the other hand…

  Was it really for the worst?

  No.

  It wasn’t.

  They all lined up in my dream. I had jerked myself off a few hours earlier so I suspected a man of my age wouldn’t cum in his pajamas. This wasn’t going to end up being a wet dream.

  Erotic urges were satisfied and bills were paid. Women were never quick to trust my judgement but they were quick to cash my checks.

  “My hand is sore, finish yourself off,”

  My lord, how many times had I heard that? Even from my one girlfriend who actually liked sex.

  A hundred bucks got the circulation in that hand going again.

  “A blowjob, I don’t know. I had a bad experience with that once.”

  Another gem. The only blowjobs I received were lousy ones from my wife, wearing a green condom on my pecker. My sex-crazed old girlfriend’s one no means no policy was in regard to giving oral sex.

  “What if a blowjob was a paid job?” I asked my slutty ex-girlfriend.

  Two hundred bucks well spent.

  It wasn’t a problem then. Funny thing, I ate more pussy then a lesbian but I was never on the receiving end of oral ecstasy.

  This was a grand old dream.

  Then the big kahuna.

  “I won’t be able to sit down for a week if you do that to me.”

  This was no longer my sexy ex. Her bottom was frequently sore and I also thought that she was almost perfect. This was not about spanking anymore. This was about every man’s sick desire to knock at the backdoor of their lady.

  All of them said YES.

  Every woman I had ever slept with.

  Three hundred dollars.

  Come to think of it, I didn’t have to be so innocent with Riley, did I?

  My subconscious was feeding me every perversion my dirty mind could devour.

  In my dream… I was a cowboy in the wild west and all of my past female companions were working hard in the local whorehouse. These were great days. Sometimes I was a sailor visiting a port and my ladies of the evening waited for me at the docks.

  It was a wonderful alternate reality where my subconscious resided. A place that I did not want to go. I never wanted to leave here now. Reality would not find me here. I would be damned before it ever would.

  Now the women who snubbed me could entertain me here as well. I was going to get into their pants. It was going to happen.

  There were no rules here and I never ran out of dream money in my wildest dreams.

  The possibilities were endless. When a girl works in a whorehouse, there is only one way to be the best by being the best whore possible. Prices were competitive and ethics and morals were unwelcome here. The idea of a conscience was laughable. The truth would not set me free here, only orgasms would. My sexual obsessions were set free. My conscience was run out of town by my lust.

  What dreams may cum. One thing was for sure. Things were looking up for me. The spell that little friend of mine put me on surely planted a seed that would not leave.

  The dream would not be over anytime soon.

  “You can do anything you want to me,” my old girlfriend once infamously said. Now everyone was doing my erotic bidding. I never wanted to wake up from this. This was my own paradise.

  Every woman took the bait and I made them earn every penny. The power of money was beyond what I could ever imagine. Women would wear dog leashes and try and please me any way they could. The dim recesses of my dark little heart were seemingly endless. The women would always come back for more and I reciprocated by all my comings and goings. This was my world and I made nature do what I wanted it to do. The Eden of Ecstasy was my garden of pure delights. I even fucked a woman named Eve after I showed her my snake. The lady could not resist the temptation of what my wallet offered her. The funny thing was that I was never spoiled, on the contrary I was always grateful for what I received. Seek it out and ye shall find. It was being caught up in the moment every moment. The anticipation never left and the same excitement was always there. Every new woman was like the first time, a thrilling and intense experience of lost innocence. Dreamland never closed down and there were no fears involved. I gave in to every temptation. Every night the doorbell rang and a naked beauty would come to my tasteful abode.

  I had visions or blurry memories of taking Seroquel and Tylenol PM. What happened was I had taken Tylenol PM instead of aspirin earlier in the day but I stayed awake. I take the other pill every night to sleep. Now here in Dreamland I was not sure if it was night or day.

  Imagination was taking me far beyond my wildest dreams. I was not particularly good at sex but I was drowning in it now. Visions of naked women danced in my head and the ladies had my cum spilled all over them. Stained panties and bras, naked flesh, desires fulfilled and I was living inside my own dirty mind.

  My eyes saw the real world for the briefest of moments. I was knocked into a dream state but I was not sure how.

  Now the strangers, the women were propositioning me for free. They opened up their mouths, they were naked, all around me, delighted to please me. Sometimes they would be jealous of one another, like some women do and push others away from them. The eyes of these strange women were often bright and cheerful, full of hope. It wasn’t like they were dead and full of drug-induced despair. Their eyes were lovely. This was a happy dream. There was no guilt here at all, this was the never-ending porno with no consequences attached to it. The pleasure principle was my guiding light and my arousal was always there. It never died down. I was always ready. Even women I personally disliked came on to me and I decided to fuck them, too. My mind was not doing the thinking for me, it was that other organ. The desire to spread the seed so to speak was not hindered by societal laws in my world. I wondered into women’s shower rooms and demanded precisely what I wanted and instant gratification was always given. I would shower with them and then go down on them while they continued to wash themselves. This was the place wet dreams were made of. It was every pervert’s dream. Sometimes I would let groups of naked bathing women put my cock in their mouths. A very lingering fellatio that satisfied my endless lust. And lust is very splendid thing. The beautiful women were always in the mood. This was a brave new world where they wanted to fuck almost as much as the men did. There were cruel comments or belittling of my ego. I would never see women the same way again. No one ever talks about how sexuality is always with us and now I could act on it.

  Strange women wanted me to return the favor in that splendid shower room. Their vaginas were so clean and so edible. Beyond edible, they were delicious. The young things and the older ladies were both full of lustful desire with strong hopes of having a great orgasm courtesy of my gifted tongue. I always found the clitereous, sometimes with my finger and occasionally only with my wicked tongue all by itself. I was now experiencing being a sexual predator and being sought out by some of the more experienced women of questionable virtue. It was amazing. I treasured watching them get all sopping wet and cumming on my face. Well, I hit the showers like any good athlete and now it was time for a change of setting. The girls were all in an enormous bubble bath now. I resisted the urge to call the women with larger breasts “Bubbles.” The skin of every naked woman felt great when it was wet with the soaking water of the great tub. My tongue never got tired or sore. I hadn’t felt this much like a lesbian since I was in college. The rising flood filled me and I began to have magnificent orgasms. The sheer joy of giving these women pleasure made it hard to control. There were no consequences at all here.

  What happens in my dreams stays in my dreams. This show must go on. It was addictive to have such great sexual freedom. I found myself suddenly changing settings once again. “Pay close attention,” said a familiar voice. My high school English teacher who I had a mad crush on was talking now. “If you do this wrong, I will make you do it again.” I always prided myself on being a good student, always trying to be observant. She changed history and became the lady who I
lost my virginity with. She slid it in and, of course, I prematurely ejaculated. She laughed because she enjoyed taking away my innocence while we were fucking on her desk. She gave me an apple as a reward. “Do I get an A?” She smiled again. “Rest up, darling, it’s a small school but most of teachers are women.” I then realized that there were plenty of other women for me to service here. I knew I was going to be tired but on the bright side every bad teen sex movie I snuck into in my youth was becoming a sexual reality. Then the strippers came, the real ones where there was full frontal nudity because it was a BYOB establishment. Turning strippers into prostitutes would be easy in real life, it would be a very short leap. Not at all. I made my own adult world so it was happening now.

  “You ladies mean the world to me.”

  I said this out loud and then I slowly opened up my tired eyes. This was a rude awakening happening now, a big wake up from a big sleep.

  “Rich, I’m Dr. Gates, Dr. Hudson Gates,” said a voice.

  I gazed around and saw this ridiculously thin middle-aged bald doctor or so he claimed in front me. Behind him were two young nurses, my first instinct was to blurt out that I wanted them to strip for me. I was in a hospital room or what appeared to be one. I sat up, initially fearing that I was tied to the bed.

  “You’re a doctor,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “This is a hospital then?”

  He nodded.

  “A mental hospital?”

  “No, Rich.”

  “Was I hurt?”

  “Only emotionally by the women who rejected you in the past.”

  “So the continuous orgies were just a dream,” I said with a sad and disappointed tone.

  “Yes.”

  “Dr. Gates, are you trying to gently tell me I’m missing a limb or something.

  “No.”

  I pulled down the sheets, realizing I was not tied down and that I was in fact wearing a hospital gown. This obviously meant I was naked beneath it. My legs were there, nothing was missing. Except my ankle bracelet.

  “Dr. Gates….”

  “Yes, Rich?”

  “You realize I’m on house arrest. I’m in a lot of trouble.”

  “You’re no longer on house arrest, Rich.”

  “Good lord, how long have I been asleep?”

  “Only one long night,” he said with a mild laugh. I looked at his eyes and his neatly shaven beard. He didn’t appear to be a super-villain or a mad scientist.

  “Well, I’m in trouble I guess.”

  “No. You’re off house arrest now.”

  “How?”

  “Well…”

  “Why?” I pushed the question.

  “When you were drinking, you signed up for some experimental surgery. You…”

  “Oh my God. What am I missing on my body?”

  “Let’s forget about what you’re missing, Rich. Let’s talk about what you have gained.” The nurses giggled behind him.

  I reached in front of my body to grab the package and the two matching nuts to make sure it was all still there. Everything was normal.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

  “If it’s still there, what was the surgery for?”

  The younger of the two nurses stepped forward, a lovely brunette in her early twenties. She unzipped her blouse and put my hands right up against her firm breasts, her nipples hardening.

  “Let’s see the magic of modern technology,” said Dr. Gates like a mad scientist would.

  Suddenly I got rock hard and my penis was huge, the size of half my arm and it felt almost supernatural.

  “Congratulations, you have the first fully functional and fucktional bionic cock.”

  “Wow.”

  “Okay, please put it away for now. Later on we’re going to let you go to our lab for a test drive.”

  “Why did you do this?” I asked.

  “Why did we do this or why did we chose you?” the doctor asked me.

  “Okay, okay. Firstly, why me?”

  “You wrote about a certain dissatisfaction with your package in some of those novels of yours.”

  “They were fictional characters,” I said.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Why this invention?”

  “So that Viagra will go out of business, even someone over a hundred can fuck now. Men will pay out the dick for this product.”

  Wow, I thought. What a droll sense of humor.

  “You can have an erection at will by your own thoughts. The new gizmo will grow as long as you want it to grow. It’s entirely up to you.”

  “What’s it…”

  “It’s made of a synthetic flesh and metal that is almost invisible. No matter what. That crazy castrating bitch has lost all of her power now. We can rebuild everyman’s manhood.”

  “Doctor, I just have to know…”

  “Is this about your new dick?”

  “No.” I was about to speak up, he was a doctor, not a mind reader.

  “Oh, about the escort, Riley is not the one going around castrating men, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

  “Wow.”

  “You realize, of course, what this means, Rich?”

  “I do.”

  “All of your seedy urges can now be satisfied.”

  And oh, dear reader, how they were. With great power comes great responsibility. This powerful new toy would become as large, small or medium sized as any woman’s desire. I wasn’t sure whether to become a porn star or a male escort now. One thing was for sure. I would share this robocock with the whole world. I could take more dick pics than Anthony Wiener could. Then a dark thought came over me. The castrating woman was still out there. Let her come, I will be rebuilt if I was unfortunate enough for her to cross my path. All of this may have occurred because my wife had nothing to offer me anymore and I decided to be sneaky one night. What a profound sense of free will and sexual actualization. Schmal was big. Size does matter now. Talk about being New Rich. This was going to be an entirely new sexual reality. Perhaps this was only a dream; it sure seemed like one to me. It could even be a dream within a dream. Well, if you’re going to dream then dream big.

  When I wake up, I’m giving Riley a call.

  Dear Sarah,

  Good lord, men and their dicks, huh? And what’s with all of this drunk driving stuff? Did you get a DUI or something?

  Thanks for the laughs,

  Misure Diable

  NOW IT’S TIME FOR SOME VIOLENCE…

  (Sorry folks! Like in marriage, there is no sex here)

  ***

  THE LEGEND OF BILL HOUSE

  By Henry David Wells

  “Bill’s house is hell,” said Christian McDowell, 60 or so, to a man of science who thought the legend surrounding it were bullshit.

  “Do you want to get paid or not, Mr. McDowell?”

  “Yes of course,” he answered.

  They stood in front of an impressive mansion that would make a Rockefeller blush for its extravagance.

  The two men were there for a specific purpose. They were about to meet with William Matheson, ninety, dying and very wealthy. Mr. Matheson was not only expecting death to come from old age but he was cursed with terminal cancer as well.

  Dr. Lionel Brown rang the doorbell. A tall man impeccably dressed answered.

  “Please come inside, Mr. Matheson is expecting you.”

  They were politely escorted inside to Matheson’s impressive study room, filled with countless books, many of which undoubtedly dealt with his favorite subject, life after death.

  An elderly, sickly man in a wheelchair waved the butler away and gave something resembling a smile at his two visitors.

  “Mr. Matheson, what can we do for you?” asked Brown.

  “You know damn well what you can do for me,” Matheson said irritably. “Five hundred thousand each to answer conclusively if there is life after death, take it or leave it.”

  The two men were silent.

  M
atheson turned his stony gaze to the scientist. “Dr. Brown, you are not even fifty years old and you are the greatest known skeptic of supernatural phenomenon, using only scientific methods.”

  “I—”

  “Let me finish, my time is very short.”

  The doctor nodded and appeared to agree.

  “Have you ever seen any evidence of proof of life after death at all?”

  “Sir, only hints, never full scientific evidence and that is truly all I have seen.”

  “Fine,” Matheson said.

  “You want us to proceed, then?”

  There was a brief pause between the two men.

  McDowell stared at the old man.

  “And you, sir, you know why I asked you to be part of this?” Matheson demanded.

  “I’ll go because I’m broke but my wife Edith died there almost twenty years ago.”

  “Exactly! You are the only survivor of Bill House,” said Matheson, laughing. It was the ugly laugh of a man who bought and paid people his entire life.

  McDowell wasn’t laughing. “The house is evil, I mean goddamn it, to the core. Every kind of perversion was performed at that place. Rape, incest, necrophilia…”

  “Yes, indeed, Mr. McDowell.”

  Brown said, “I think by working together, Mr. Matheson believes we can come to a conclusion as to whether this place is for real or not.”

  McDowell nodded at Brown.

  There was a long pause.

  “How long do we stay at the house until you want a report back?” asked the doctor.

  “One week.”

  “That’s all?” said Brown.

  “Like I said, take it or leave it.”

  “Look, the truth is this controversial machine I use, it takes time and…”

  Matheson waved the doctor’s objection aside. “When I was young and healthy time was money. Now time is short. Take it or leave it. If you take it, you leave now. No one will bother you at the home. I purchased it a month ago. I need your full concentration on the matter. Go. My man will drive you to my airport.”