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Tuesday, January 13, 2004

Something else I wrote this morning: (warning: allusions to rape)

Hi. This is Leticia. I really want a good masturbation fantasy, but at the same time I can’t think of one at all. Let’s see... I get eaten by a client, I come on a client and his is wiped out of existence, somebody takes a bath in my come and is sucked into the void, I come on myself and disappear, I melt into an oily puddle of Leticia goo and I ooze into a sewer drain, I get eaten by a monster...

Ah, getting eaten by a shark. I got it. Let’s say... I’m in a girly swimming contest , and everybody wants me to win, but I get eaten by a shark to no consequence. No, the shark tears off my innocent little one-piece and I flail around a bit before being crushed by his piercing jaws. Or... I get stuck in a copy machine and get turned into a porn magazine, much to the delight of the boys sitting around, who put me through a paper shredder once they’re done with me. Oooh...

Or I’m taking a warm bath, and it swirls inward until I am captured by the drain, at which point I am shredded into nothingness, or maybe another pile of raw meat, which is digested by the sexy union dockworkers who’ve decided to make a cameo in this fantasy. Oh, yeah! Or maybe I’m freeze-dried and placed on a pedestal in a museum, for all the upper-class twits to stroke their chins and gawk at my artistic potential (while staring at my butt-crack), only to grope me lusciously once the museum guards have turned the corner. They throw off their stupid suits and their status with them as they revive me with their warmth, only to rape me, four-on-one, and leave nothing left of my flesh but maybe my spine and a few innards. Oh, and my clitoris. Unless they pick it off the floor and put it in one of those tin mint boxes, for later usage.

I’m so hopeless! I’m’a go to the bookstore. Toodles!
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