Email to a Reader, CC: Anyone, Part 15.
The MASSAGE. Age rating 18. fiction challenge 17-06-19
As a voice in someone’s head I am obliged to write a letter. I am on her mission by will and my will is hers.
She thought of every word I type, I am Philip figuratively and I have to accept this fact. Readers and Anyones are the receivers of this open letter, bcc the foreign conscience that claims she is an avatar of. She said I can use the entire brain, go anywhere I please, I can even go to the dream set she never goes, let her fuck me one more time, and this is my only chance to be Philip figuratively with no interruptions. Just me.
I chose the brain to look like a court-yard and since I have one arm at least, two legs and most of my teeth, two anuses and four testicles that by accident are stuck on me, I can figuratively sit here alone and write this letter, as if I was real -enough body parts you see. My head is somewhat interesting, so let me start with a description:
My head, dear Reader Anyone, is not round enough, the forehead is missing, the nose is too small and the ears too big. My hair is the curly clown wig I found in a dream set, my cheekbones are glowing in the dark, dark in the brain is when the third eye is fast asleep. I do not have a tongue right now, took it out three nanoseconds ago to check on it for tiny bot bugs, and probably never put it back where it was. I don’t need a tongue to write a letter so I’ll find where it is later. I’ll let you know if she gives me a chance.
You and I are enemies, like she is enemies with Her. We are in exactly the same situation. You are imaginary and I don’t exist until I speak to you then you become real if you read this letter, and I remain just a voice in someone’s head. There is no way for you to upgrade me and there is no way for me to know you’re not just another figment of her imagination. I already feel immensely redundant because of this very fact. I’m a Philip Being type of voice, all I dream is being left alone, free and knowing, have real readers and a real typewriter. I want a real woman with or without pegging me whenever we fuck. Real pussy, real tits and great eyes. The second set of balls I’m keeping, perhaps find an arm, definitely no second anus and this missing forehead must be dealt with.
I am a male that’s pregnant whose tammy is not getting bigger, but my back has now a hump.
So, I have a question, why are you real and I am not, as a voice my expectations are not as pointless as yours if you are just avatars. Perhaps it’s better this way, who knows? I know what I am, who I am, what I want. Do you?
Completely irrational letter, going to the dream set now. I’m sick of the court-yard, nothing good in being alive without some sexual activity, now I see. The world is a dream set. Yet she is almost celibate. And Voice Socrates told me his story how he declined the most handsome young man of Athens. Alkiviadis, the name of her father. Weird.
Voice Kundera appeared when I asked Socrates why, if imaginary pegging is fascinating enough then I can imagine how wonderful it is to be shagged by any sexy man or woman, why hurt his feelings? he said “life is elsewhere, pegging is here.”
It’s my first attempt at writing a letter. And it may be my last. Well,
“Philip, you now have the day off from your duties, you will go to the dream set of your preference and my writing bots won’t try to stop you this time. Have fun.”
(for the time being I accept only pms as comments /reactions on most of my work)