After seeing the three-word story, it inspired me to start this one. Let's all write a
story where the characters use pheromones from this site, and different events unfold as a result. Here are the
guidelines, similar to the three-word thread.
1. Anyone can contribute.
2. There is a limit of five (5)
sentences per post, with the exception of the first one, where ground rules and the story is laid out.
need to have good grammar, spelling, and punctuation (doesn't have to read like a college paper, but can't be like
MySpace either), and sentences must be a reasonable length.
4. The same person is NOT allowed to make two
consecutive posts in a row.
5. The post being added must have some semblance of a coherent flow with the story in
the most recent post.
6. Keep it up for as long as your creativity allows.
And, without further ado, on with the
It was a dark and hectic night. Four men were sitting around a house, playing cards. Suddenly,
lights went out, and there was a loud scream outside. When the lights came back on, one man ran to the front door
to check things out. He saw a woman lying on the front step and fearfully touching her neck with her fingers. There
was a long trail of footprints on the snow, extending from the front step to the forest past the yard. It appeared
to go farther into the forest, but actually ended at the property line.
Judging from the woman's DIHL
and the yellow steam rising from the snowy footsteps, she was obviously the victim of a vicious NPA assault. Even
Joey No-Nostrils - so named because doctors had sewn his nostrils shut after failing cocaine treatment - was not
oblivious to the acrid sharpness hovering in the air. "Lets look around" said one of the guys, obviously a
go-getter. "Good idea" said another, who was always sucking up to the first guy.
Just then they all suddenly and
Last edited by idesign; 11-05-2009 at 05:03 AM. Reason: Reread the rules... oops
her BMW parked nearby, door
her USB flash drive on the ground beside her,
her "L-S Rocks!" pin glistening in her lapel,
sweater wet with sweat (or was it something else?),
and her AMA membership card clutched in her hand
(okay I made it 5 lines not sentences... but it's neen a long day)
The opposite of love isn't hate.
Igancio, the man who went
outside first, leaned over the woman and said: "I'm certified to give first aid. Now, what's the last thing you
remember happening?" The woman didn't answer him, just gazed with a strange combination of disorientation and lust
in her eyes. "It's NPA, all right", Ignacio mumbled. Then he turn to Karl (the go-getter), and blurted out: "go
check the car!"
Karl cautiously approached the BMW,
noting, again, that the passenger side door, which was facing him, was slightly ajar.
What struck him as odd
was there were no footprints around the car anywhere that he could see.
Could it be that there was someone
Glancing toward the rear of the vehicle, Karl could see fresh tire tracks, but they seemed to
mysteriously fade away rather quickly, almost as if the car was dropped and it rolled forward to where it now sat.
Suddenly Karl stopped in his tracks, startled by an odd scratching noise that seemed to be eminating from the rear
of the car...
The opposite of love isn't hate.
While Karl was fiddling
around with the car, Joey went to investigate the footprints. They formed a clean, straight line from the front
step and just stopped right where the yard ended and a dense forest began. "Whoever hurt that woman must have run
off into the forest", Joey thought, "but why aren't there any footprints there?" He looked up, and saw that some
of the trees didn't have as much snow on them as the rest. Suddenly, he heard Karl yell: "hey Joey, get a load of
Last edited by TheAttractor; 11-05-2009 at 06:44 PM.
Joey turned, and just as he was
about to run over to Karl a giant hook grabbed his waistband from behind and lifted him into the air like a huge
mechanical wedgie. As he was being dragged up the side of a tree he wheezed "Hwweerrllp!" All eyes were on Joey as
he was swung around at the end of an unseen tether and plopped down on top of Karl like a pork belly on a slow
trader just before the bell.
"Well, that explains how the car got here, sort of" said Karl, "thanks for coming
so fast". "Not at all" puffed Joey, who was holding himself in a non-sexual way for the first time, ever.
Ignacio, who had been busily tending
to the strange woman and hadn't been aware of the sudden turn of events looked up to see Joey and Karl heaped in a
pile near the BMW.
"Hey! you guys," he barked, quit gettin jiggy! There's time for that later!"
As Karl and
Joey began to untangle themselves from each other, while keeping out a wary eye for that unexpected hook, Ignacio
returned to checking the condition of the unknown woman.
As he looked over the DNKY sweater, he suddenly
realized that he couldn't see any clothes on the lower part of her body... he hesitated, but in the interest of
making certain of her condition, decided to slowly, carefully, and cautiously, lift the bottom of the wet sweater
and peered underneath.
"Holy Cow!" he exclained, "Hello Kitty panties!"
The opposite of love isn't hate.
But then Ignacio realized
that the task at hand was to find out what happened to the woman. He called Tom (the guy who sucked up) and said:
"Can you bring me some A1 and SOE from storage; those will make her more willing to talk to us." When Tom came back
with the pheromones, Ignacio sprayed them toward the woman's face. She coughed a little, and blinked rapidly.
"What's your name, and what's the last thing you remember happening to you?", the men asked her.
this story is turning out pretty nicely so far, let's keep it going)
[blink blink blink] "Well,
there was this guy, you know, and like, he was like just this guy. Soooo I thought he was kinda cute so I talked to
him and he was like pretty cool and I gave him my number and he called me like 5 minutes later and then we met coz I
was like at the next table and then we texted each other some really hot, like, you know, conversation and I was
getting rilly hot but like this guy was a stranguurr, you know? Then he said something like "you wanna get down at
the end of a big crane?" and I was like sooooo wanting something bigger than my last b/f and followed him out to his
equipment, at least that's what he called this thing. To me it looked like a big truck with a thingy on top, but
he promised that I would be happy forever if I just climbed in and smelled his neck, so I did"
The woman continued,
rambling in the process: "Well, he convinced me to get into his truck-looking vehicle, it smelled like sandalwood
inside, so good, you know. He started telling me about this club called Pharaoh Moan, he said 'it's filled with
aromas that makes you feel divine'; maybe it's got contraptions that pump scents into the air. Then he put his
arm around me, and pressed me against him, so my nose rested against his neck, then I felt a convulsion of some
sort, and everything went black, and next thing I knew, I'm here talking to you guys." "Wow!", Ignacio answered,
he was speechless. Then he asked Tom to keep an eye on the woman, and ran outside to speak to Joey, who heard about
Pharaoh Moan from other people while undergoing drug rehabilitation.
Freshly stitched and very
uncomfortable, Joey made a beeline to club Pharaoh Moan the very day he was released from treatment with the worst
grade ever recorded at that particular facility. The fact that he narrowly escaped sexual harassment charges while
a resident there can probably be attributed to his well connected family who, despite their judicial pull, were
unable to prevent Joey's olfactory closure. Indeed, according to one unnamed source, the presiding judge was heard
to say privately in chambers that he'd personally "sew that pervert's pecker to his belly button if I wasn't up
Joey had placed himself locally in a special class of individuals who, with good reason, were
best viewed from afar. Providence placed him at the bar of the Pharoah Moan club beside the secretive yet
gregarious crane owner/operator W.T.Fuch.
After a half dozen tequila lime
freezes, along with breathing a steady atmosphere of Chikara being pumped from well placed atomizers, Joey hooted
like a deranged owl when he read his new friend's business card; "Need some Big Equipment? Call me, WTF."
the night of the accident he fleetingly made a mental connection as he was being hoisted into the air, just as
Ignacio fleetingly remembered the pair of Hello Kitty panties missing from his collection. Karl (spelled with a K)
was not making any connections at all but was damned determined to get to the bottom of this. Tom, ever the helpful
soul, came out of the house with brandy and a thermos of coffee.
Karl (spelled with a K)
untangled himself from Joey at the back of the BMW, thinking "I have no time for this", even though his private
entanglements with Joey he had found quite satisfactory. Tom poured him a brandy and asked "what's up with
Ignacio?". Karl (spelled with a K) looked over and observed Ignatio observing the woman's crotch at close range,
his face a resemblance to the "Soul's Awakening". Joey, observing Ignatio, then observing Karl observing Ignatio,
scurried to hide under the rear of the car just where the scratching noise was emanating.
Last edited by idesign; 05-02-2010 at 06:11 PM.
"O what a tangled web we weave,
when first we practice to deceive" or, in Joey's case, outright theft. Poker night at Ignatio's was a special
treat for Joey, not for for the game or comraderie with similarly dysfunctional members of the community, but for
the long bathroom breaks during which he would sneak into the bedroom and rifle Ignatio's panty collection. The
"Hello Kitty" caper, weeks before, was not planned, but rather a reaction to a noise at the bedroom door after which
the panties made a beeline from Joey's nose to his pocket in under a second.
Later that night, in the mellow
glow of sublime afterburn, he had told a woman (who's name escaped him, like so many names) that he had bought them
for her in the hope that it would display his true feelings for her, which she could not quite process after
breathing half a dozen pheromones in half that many hours.
His hands around the tailpipe (of the BMW), Joey
pondered these things, and pondered the atomizer which he had installed in the woman's car which was making that
awful scratching sound, and was wondering how he would extricate himself from the impending fury which was sure to
If fate is the playground of the
gods, then Joey must certainly be one of their favorite toys. Joey was thinking this, though in not such
philosophical terms, as his thoughts usually ran along the lines of self preservation. Not only had he stolen
Ignatio's panties, but he'd given them to Tom's new girlfriend who, in fit of NPA induced wanton behavior, agreed
to a private game of ring toss after a particularly fun night at the PM club.
Tom, who until now was focused upon
making the strange evening more pleasant for everyone, had not yet observed the crime scene in any detail, or the
woman who's splayed legs were being manipulated by Ignatio in the hope that a definitive identification of her
panties could be made.
Karl (yes yes yes, K) began to fume, Joey wept as his fist had no effect on the atomizer,
and Tom, finally, began to absorb the unique qualities of the scene.
In any group of friends -
particularly such as we find here - there is an anchor; a member who's personal qualities are less likely to raise
the hair on the back of necks and who provide social legitimacy at critical moments, such as when entering a bar.
Tom, the very last of the Truly Nice Guys, starred in this role with Biblical patience but not (we should hasten to
add) without a somewhat guilty eye toward the social ladder upon who's bottom rung he clung with increasing
Having drawn too late the bead on Joey, Ignacio and Karl, he maintained his presence in the group with
a hair trigger on his better sensibilities, and had placed no small amount of hope on a woman he met the PM
Different from the other girls he had met there, she exuded a soft sensuality that spoke in the warm tones
of cozy weekends tucked in a cabin far away from the PherHotel, that tawdry excrescence directly adjacent to the PM
club, where hormone-crazed "Moners" gathered after hours to practice their art.
As the full scene of the evening
exploded suddenly in his brain, he uncorked the bottle of Cognac and pulled hard on its magical properties.
Francine's unique manipulation
of the English language notwithstanding, she was a girl who understood many things, mostly on an intuitive level,
and was known to have the capability to put men on notice if her lines were crossed. But her heart was intact, and
those who invested the time necessary to cross the divide were rewarded with many times the dues paid to enter her
world, where peace reigned overall and sensual bliss was but the work of a free afternoon, or morning, or lunch
break in the Lingerie fitting room at Nordstrom's where Tom worked. They were an imaginative pair, and costume
changes only heightened Tom's awareness that all things worthwhile came wrapped in red.
A life of privilege and
prettiness did not prepare Francine for the soft emotions she felt toward Tom, nor the emotional maturity to deal
with a flood of pheromones entering her brain via Joey's Auto-Atomizer II, nor the industrial pumps at the PM Club
which fed its guests with a pheromonal atmosphere which a politician would call either criminal or divine, depending
on who was in the room. And to say that Francine was unprepared to deal with the likes of Joey is like saying a
Marineland blonde is unprepared to be eaten by a Killer Whale. The odds are against it, but eventually its going to
happen; nature has its rules.
Tom had lit upon a lovely and meaningful aspect of his future life while Joey
calculated the optimum use of "Hello Kitty" panties.
Joey finally succeeded in
ripping the Auto-Atomizer II from Francine's car just as Karl (K), in a barely controlled fit of organizational
angst, pulled him by the ankles from beneath the car, atomizer and all. Karl's limited mental capacity, coupled
with his failing grade in "Survey of Phero-Technical Apparatus" and his complete incoherence of Joey's radical
social model, rendered him speechless.
Also speechless were Tom and Ignacio, but for different reasons.
Tom, hoping beyond the possibility of hope that the woman laying prostrate on the pavement was any other than
his beloved Francine, staggered toward her as he drank steadily from France's best effort toward peace in the
Losing his now apprehensive balance, Tom bumped Ignacio from the rear, causing Ignacio to plant his face
directly onto the waiting, and still somewhat wanting, mouth of Hello Kitty.
Karl is not the type of person
to remain speechless for any length of time and, as with most people who are prematurely and punitively toilet
trained, succumbs easily to aggression when faced with confusing events. Karl did remain speechless precisely long
enough to kick Joey violently as a matter of course.
Joey, not unused to violence upon himself winced, curled
and cradled the Auto-Atomizer II as it continued to scratch and spew its clever mix of attractants into the local
atmosphere, its largest exhaust tube pointing in the direction of Francine, Tom and Ignacio.
over Ignacio, Tom fell onto the pavement directly beside Francine just as she gasped at Ignacio's unintentional
"Kitty" dive. While gasping, she breathed an uncontrolled dose of Joey's mix which pumped steadily toward her then
grabbed the bottle of Cognac from Tom's trembling hands. The upturned bottle at her lips and her eyes rolled back
into her head, she wrapped her legs around Ignacio's head and groped Tom with her only free hand.
In the course of human development there are times at which, usually in retrospect, one can pinpoint precisely when a corner is turned and life presents itself afresh, through a different lens as it were, and old thoughts become the flotsam and jetsam of a new awareness. Tom was now - not unpleasantly - experiencing one of those rare moments when he understood both the immediate pleasure of Francine's liberality and the impact that its public nature may have on his future sexual life, and he was not unhappy.
Joey, always one to appreciate a free exhibition, held his gaze on the scene in his peculiarly pornographic way as Karl, succumbing to years of confused sexual repression leaped upon the mixture of Tom, Ignacio and Francine, not caring who he landed upon.
The police arrived at a quarter to five, and immediately drew the reigns on this runaway stagecoach as WT Fuchs laughed hysterically from the cab of his new WTF-5 model crane, vowing that pheromones is his life, and the heavy lifting is yet to be done.
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