Back when there was the smooze

Elevate form over function to get at less easily articulable truths.

Back when there was the smooze

Postby Ultimate Philosophy 1001 » Thu Dec 03, 2015 3:38 pm

Back when I was a boy I got a job at a printing mill. It was the traditional setting, a run down building with the dark beige walls and gray concrete floor. I worked in a room all to myself, making custom made My Little Pony T-shirts. There were no rules, other than the shirts had to be good enough so someone would wear them. It was my first day, and the lady said my workday was 7 hours of hard labor, but i was welcome to work overtime for 7 more hours and i would get paid overtime. i was busy working making shirts for 4 hours, and then it was break time.
I went to the habidome for lunch (similar to the manmade jungle on the bottle ship) and got a piece of chicken. I felt guilty about the chicken because I didn't know if it was organic. All of the boys at the tables talked about startrek, but for some reason I felt we couldn't connect. I was intimidated by them and I just wanted to be alone, and eat my lunch with some solitude.
So I went back to my sweatshop and kept making shirts, this time a really cool design featuring rarity. I was very proud of my job, this would be my second fulltime job, as well as my third job because I had a freelance job that I worked on a flexible schedule. With 3 jobs, I could brag on Facebook on how much of a contributive citizen I am. This would also help women sleep with me easier, because they could rest easy, the judge would for sure make me pay child support to them.
Once my 7 hours were finished, I was eager to continue, but wanted to ask about my money. I walked up to the manager woman and asked how much I had made for the day. She said 10 dollars. i said what??? She said I had been slacking off, and a certain ratio of shirts is needed per hour, otherwise I only get paid for the meager amount of work I put in. I told her I made 20 shirts an hour. A bit surprised, she said okay, let me look at them. She told me all of the shirts were ruined, that I was supposed to put them in some kind of sleeve device so that the colors dont bleed through. I told her thankyou for not telling me that in the first place when she was training me. She said sorry, there's nothing I can do, youre getting zero dollars for today.
The next day I had a bright attitude. I said hey, its only one days wages, and Im going to be having this job for a while, so what's the big deal? I had a big plan, a trixie plan. it was diabolical. I had a plan for a shirt, but not just any shirt...a shirt with a function. I would be rich! The front of the shirt was gonna have Trixie, in a Michael Jackson moonwalk pose, holding her purple witch hat. And the back, was gonna have the words "SMOOVE", like a sports jersey. It was gonna be white light gray, the perfect color for the autumn season. A couple of "special" shirts were gonna have smudges on the edges of the shoulders, like collectors istems. But the shirt in of it self was a collectors item, it was gonna be the shirt that made shirts, "shirts". After this, shirt crafting was going to be a new art trend, something scholars and art critics studied seriously. The shirt was gonna be a legend.
So I made the shirt, and tested it. I walked around with it on at the mall, went inside a clothing shop near Halloween. The girls were walking around in their purple witch costumes. They were visibly envious, especially the black girls who had a little chubby on their tubby. They gave me that stern, pouty look like, damn, your outfit is a little better than mine! Field results were successful, so it was time to market it.
I went to the manager and discussed marketing and we put a little commercial together, come lunch time. We took one of our lunch mates, one of the virgin guys who couldn't get laid, despite him having a gym quality body even I could get a little moist for (despite considering myself straight.) He was the second star of the commercial, the shirt was the main. The commercial played Michael Jacko's smooth criminal in the background, while the buff virgin guy (who looked like a Seinfield reject) talked into the camera, topless, with a seductive glare, seductively moving his body around. He said, even with this body of mine, I couldn't get laid. But with this shirt, all of the girls want me! The commercial was a success. i watched it a couple times. Straight as I was, even I got a little hot and bothered from it. Those shirts sold like hotcakes.
A total of 32 shirts were left. They were a limited item, and even the rich would desperately auction just for a ticket to bid for the thing. There was a global crisis, feminists were trying to petition to ban the shirt because it was just too sexy, women were simply unable to resist it. So there was a hurry for the last shirt to be sold, that way we didn't have to worry about it becoming illegal and unable to sell it. I stood their stoically, at the gates, defending the last 32 shirts from the barrage of feminists that sacrificed themselves at the door. Finally, the last shirt was sold, to a rich man, who drove away in a black 1930's rolls royce. He had a security defense system but we did not. The swarm of feminists overwhelmed us. They carried me up, like savages do on tiki sticks, and put me on a pole while they carried me around on top of their swarm, like a rock star. They were going to make an example of me. They took me to their house, which was ironic because they lived in one of my old childhood homes. They strapped me up to an upright bed and cut off my balls, with a hedgecutter. They slapped me in the face and shoved strapon dildos down my throat. They had a giant vat of semen and connected to it was a silver tube, like the have on milkshake machines. They forced me to gargle it all.
I tried to escape but could not. They forced me to endure boring girly conversations about their meaningless lives, and trivial gossip for over 5 months. They cut a hole where my balls used to be and if I didn't shutup, they would fuck me there endlessly until my bodily fluids seeped out. Finally, after 8 months, they gave me a proper sexchange, and I was grateful, because fucking me where my balls used to be was even more painful than when I was castrated. My moods calmed down and I became submissive to them, so they stopped tying me up all the time. They now let me go outside, on a leash, if I am on good behavior. I look outside and see there are no men. At most there are tall women, with penises and no balls, on a leash. After the shirts were banned, men strangely disappeared, never to be found again. In my thoughts I still fantasize about the shirtless man, and the league of the 32 Trixies who will one day, let us be free.
Copyright © 2015 Trixie Z.
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Ultimate Philosophy 1001
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Re: Back when there was the smooze

Postby MagsJ » Fri Dec 25, 2015 3:25 am

The possibility of anything we can imagine existing is endless and infinite.. - MagsJ
I haven't got the time to spend the time reading something that is telling me nothing, as I will never be able to get back that time, and I may need it for something at some point in time.. Huh! - MagsJ
You’re suggestions and I, just simply don’t mix.. like oil on water, or a really bad DJ - MagsJ
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