64 lines
3.3 KiB
Plaintext
64 lines
3.3 KiB
Plaintext
COME COME COME COME COME COME COME COME mute COME COME COME COME classified
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\ COME COME COME COME COME COME focus COME COME COME COME mute COME COME COME
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\ COME COME COME COME classi--
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I feel something in my head almost physically clicking and I come like
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\ an earthquake in Chile. There's no point using caps, it won't do any justice
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\ anyway. The observer would notice me shaking violently, head bobbing around,
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\ my eyes went up so far they are halfway hidden by eyelids, which are open wide
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\ by the way, as is my mouth, which produces foam. It doesn't look good, like
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\ I'm having a life-threatening incident, like I'm about to die. My breath
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\ is shallow and intermittent. I piss on myself -- complete loss of bladder
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\ control, I would shit myself as well if not for the buttplug. We're losing her
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\ fast, would think an observer.
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What I actually feel I can't describe adequatly. You take an orgasm and multiply
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\ it by infinity. It's beyond good, bad, painful, joyful, satisfying or amazing.
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\ It wan't good. Good is different. It continues for hours, years, ages, eras.
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\ It just doesn't stop, time does not exist anymore. Time is just text, this
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\ is reality. A reality that can't be described with words.
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I'm conscious again. Weak. Can't move. Can't anything. There is something else
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\ though that wasn't here before: I understand almost everything that's
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\ happening. Some questions remain... A-a-and I come again. Nothing like
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\ the first time, just aftershocks. Now the picture is complete.
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All I can do is pant heavily, like I just did a marathon run.
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"I believe there's something you would like to tell me. Let's get you to a real keyboard."
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> Where to start. The sirens were a drill that you've organized to kidnap me,
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> clone me, and train me. I am that clone, it required 40 years to make me.
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> Later you've imitated a reactor malfunction in the shelter to make this area
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> an exclusion zone. The bunker is an emergency entrance to the underground
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> complex and an air vent. Liz is the chief director, Mute (me) is the chief
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> analyst, you are their adopted daughter. My genes made me mute but also link
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> insight to orgasm, so sexual frustration stimulates unconsciousness into
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> solving problems. You also love me very much. Thank you. You can make me
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> your pony if you wish to.
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She's crying. It was not my intention. I come and hug her. She starts crying
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\ harder. I wait. It's okay. She hugs me back.
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"Did you enjoy your little ingasm? Wait till you meet the real deal, you'll be
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\ unable to walk for a week." -- sounds yummy.
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~~"okay"~~ -- she inhales sharply -- "You know entirely too much now, we have
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\ to take you into custody. Turn around, put your arms behind your back."
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I feel metal around my wrists, cold and heavy. She leaves the room, but shortly
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\ returns. Her face is serious and solemn.
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"Mute the Pony, you have proven yourself worthy and your application is approved.
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\ Welcome to Pony Corps, I will be your commanding officer, callsign Mistress.
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\ You will address me properly at all times, you will answer immediately
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\ and truthfully. Upon receiving an order you will comply fully and without
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\ hesitation. Futhermore, you may not come without permission. Any questions?
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\ Good. Oh, and you may not initiate communication," -- her face lights up --
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\ "except with me or Old Man or moms. Let's go, they are desperate to finally
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\ meet you in person."
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THE END
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(or is it?)
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