Previously posted at Blissimo.
A few years ago a friend stopped over and we ended up sitting in my office talking. BIG mistake. I happened to leave Second Life on the screen while we talked and to be honest, I wasn’t even sure where I was. But, as luck would have it, up popped the one thing you never want your feminist friends to ever see.. . a Gorean “couple.”
There they were in all their “I-am-your-long haired-over muscled-bare chested-master-kneel-and-worship-me-half naked-while-you-wash the floor-and-practice-the-fruits-of-your- Gorean-masters degree-in kneeling-while-thrusting-breasts-out-poses.”
My friend was like “OMG what is THAT?” (helps if you do this voice in a shocked I-just-stepped-in-dog-doo doo type of scream while holding a cup of coffee that is now half in the cup and the rest on you, the floor, me, and the computer keyboard. Oh, and if you are a stickler for realism … really scream and then swear a lot here (in a very attractive female’s voice of course). Get your co-workers involved and play different roles. Find out who can scream the best or has the highest tolerance for burning hot coffee on their bare skin.
This is a highly interactive 3D blog after all.
We were clearly on two different planets here cause I answered her, “I think it is dope on a rope.”
“Well you know like Old Spice …. soap on a rope? BUT this is DOPE on a rope … only spicier …?? ” I guess I am not as funny as I think I am. I was actually hoping if I laughed at them, we could just roll our eyes and move on. I have always been a bit of a dreamer that way.
“But he is dragging her?”
“Yes I see that, well … she must be really slow and need remedial obedience classes. They normally follow along quietly and no-one gets hurt.”
Are you freaking kidding me? That is disgusting!!
“In fairness, the big guy controls her avatar completely, this is really not that big a deal. They usually keep it pretty much to themselves and on their own sims. It is the regular folk that will end up having sex right in front of everyone in a furniture store or something.”
“People have sex in here?”
“In my office? Well, by people do you mean other than me and my hubby? Or are you referring to that bus tour that got lost? You know that was only that one time, and I tried to stop them but …”
She interrupted me with a snort (feminists do GREAT snorts)”I mean on there …” and she was pointing at my screen with complete disgust. I followed her finger to the Gorean couple.
I started to scan my mind for memory of how the hell to pray. Please teleport out of there. Please teleport out of there. For the love of God TELEPORT OUT OF THERE!!
Nope, she was purring and crawling around like a cat (the Gorean lady …not my friend. My friend never purrs or crawls around like a cat. It is against the feminist code of the burnt bra) I sat dripping my coffee quietly on my own hand hoping people can die from coffee burns. It was either by my hand or I was going to be killed in the explosion when her head went. Those feminists can turn like that (insert one of your coworkers snapping their fingers here … sound effects make these things just so much more real).
“Why aren’t other people rescuing that poor girl?”
“Who said she was a girl?”
“Well she might be a man…..” I poured more coffee on my hand. “Don’t worry,” I quickly inserted, trying to defuse the growing tension as she snapped the stapler she was holding in her hands in two, “she LETS him own her.” I swallowed my words into the silence made by someone sucking in all the air in the room followed by a hissing gasping which I assumed was the death rattle of strangulated principles.
I spent some time admiring her recent dental work and the nice job the surgeon had done on those tonsils twenty years back before she closed her mouth and continued, “OK, who is THAT Woman? ” She had pushed me out of the way and was sitting in my chair, grabbing the mouse and moving the camera in on the scene. She pointed to a woman dressed in black from head to toe standing to the side. This was not going to get any better.
“That is a free woman .”
“Yes she is the Muscle masters real main squeeze. She gets to help him boss the slave girls around but they don’t let her play in any reindeer games, if you know what I mean.” Oh God, how did I end up here, knowing anything about Gorean people and sounding like a freaking expert. It had to be the wifi. It did damage brains. It made them sponges so that you just thought you were out there shopping for a pretty dress, all innocent and everything, and you were actually being indoctrinated and brainwashed with sexual everything.
“Wait, so if you are a slave you get to be naked and have sex, and if you are free you keep indoors in the black tent and stand off to the side and watch your partner have sex with whom ever he wants?”
“No- I don’t think they get to watch …” I was doing the tap dance of fast talking trying to move my partner cross the dance floor of life to something not known to send feminists into anaphylactic shock. I was out of coffee and still alive. Damn. “Um … think how clean their floors are with all that kneeling and I bet they are really happy to have live in help around the house. I am sure that is really what these women are thinking with all of this. It just looks way worse than it is.”
I made a mental note to keep a towel handy in my office, to throw over the computer when people come to visit Or maybe over myself? Better yet, keep the door locked. Don’t have anymore friends.
She continued, “And a “HUD?” You said something about a “hud.” What is a” hud?””
I demonstrated for her with my walk and pose hud, happy to move the view away from the Gorean couple as her clothes (or strips of string across her body) started to magically disappear while HE was now purring. “See how my avi moves so fluently? That is with the hud. Now look at sans hud,” and I deactivated it and let her watch me try to walk. “So the thing is this hud is for walking and posing and they had a hud for sex and stuff so you can do …um … sex …um … fluently …”
Sigh. (Note to self, there is a reason they say never discuss sex in the conversational etiquette books of appropriate office and dinner table discussion. This office had a table/desk and coffee was a good dinner substitute. The rule applied doubly.
“Right, cause heaven knows you wouldn’t want your pixels on the screen to have jerky thrusting. I am sure you have the sex monitors come on and judge your efforts for the sex hall of fame. MY GOD, this is just so … so ….”
“Not awesome?” I offered, realizing that any esteem she ever held for me was probably gone and that I probably should just phone and see if Jerry Springer is still doing TV and resign myself to the fact I was clearly trailer trash. Why is that down in the basement, alone at night, it all seems so magical and then in the light of day, in front of other people, it seems so … not awesome?
I thought it best to let her have a moment, she seemed a bit fevered. If she was ok, I certainly felt like throwing up.
“Why Bliss? Just tell me WHY?”
Long pause. Things didn’t even sound good in my head, no sense offering them out loud.
“Because we can?
…oh…..and their parents are probably asleep?”
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Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/02/knick-knack-kitty-kat-looking-back.html for original post date.