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Nurse Jones: The List part 13
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
From: [email protected] (Michael Raymond Feely)
Subject: REPOST: The List 13
Date: 25 Nov 91 09:41:04 GMT
Lines: 245
Reply-To: [email protected]
>From Nurse Jones:
Okay, okay. Here is some of Column Two. I wrote it while still
lurking. But it's all wrong because a lot has changed since then.
For one thing, I know some of you through e-mail now, and I'm
more than a little embarrased to send it out, for reasons I
explained in a recent post. And it's getting more difficult as
time goes on. For some reason, I didn't care so much if strangers
read about my innermost thoughts, so long as noone I KNEW found
out this stuff. But I've just realized that I am getting to know
"you people." Anonymously, sure, but what does that matter?
You've formed a mental image of me, just like I have of some of
you. Now if I shock and disappoint you, I care. Now it matters
what you think of me. In fact, I just turned beet red thinking
about the end of Column One. Well, not BEET red, maybe fuchsia.
Which has got to be the most carefully spelled color in the
midwest, possibly the world. I could NEVER confront anyone that
had read Column Oneand knew all that about me. Except Jay.
But here it is, the beginning at least, almost unedited:
The List
Column Two
I'm back. (in a deep, Schwartzenegger-esque voice, with
sunglasses)
S.F. is a pretty neat place. Almost worth chucking it all for.
I'm surprised everyone doesn't want to live there. I could
probably get a job there easier than J could, given what I do.
Maybe someday I'll go there and help them do the offbeat things
they get away with while even managing to act as if it were all
perfectly normal. Start an all-nite yoga clinic or something.
You laugh. There would be competition.
I'm NOT going back to Indiana. My home town is proof that Hell
is full and the dead walk the earth. Besides, it's easier to be
kinky a long way from home. Hmph. It's easier to be _liberal_
when you're a long way from MY home. You know how the Jaycees
always put a little sign outside their town to encourage tourism?
Like "Wisk Broom Capital of the World" or whatever. Our town
motto would have to be something like:
"Not as bad as you might have imagined."
or maybe
"Preferable to Gary."
how about:
"Leave it in drive"
Even Chicago was better. At least there was something
happening all the time. Most of it unsolved.
Anyway, I like the South almost as much as SF and a lot more
than Chicago. You don't have to shovel water. And I like J a lot
more than I thought I did when I left.
So anyway, I'm a top now. Sort of. I got my feet back on
the ground over the last month, and decided that J wasn't so
gawdawful wierd after all. He's still adamant about me having a
shot at topping, and I still don't really feel constitutionally
suited to it, but I'm going to do it. When I decided to go back
to J I called and told him I needed some money if I was going to
top him. For toys. He sent me a bundle, so I'm back, and loaded
for bear. As they say. In fact, we got started on Column Two when
I got back, but we had to stop when I pulled a groin muscle, even
though it wasn't mine.
I mailed the first part of this document to a couple of
ASB'ers at their home addresses just before I got back to J. It
was titled The List, and added up to near 500k in 6 files,
"chapters" (items) 1-21. I don't know if it ever got posted.
There's no indication that it did on the net.
[Note from The Present: It ended up getting posted after all,
thanks to wizvax and some very nice wizpeople, but I'll leave
this stuff in anyway, out of date though it is.]
If it didn't, then this
will seem like an extended non-sequitur to you. I'd better
explain a little. To be very brief, I was a bottom for the very
first time last Spring. Not that I had ever been a top. It
lasted a month by prior agreement with J, and the things he did
to me we also agreed upon by way of a negotiated two-column list
(The List) broken down into paired items. If he did to me
something listed in column one, I could do the corresponding
thing in column two to him and vice versa. So I guess this is
about to become an account of column two. Except that this time,
I can write it my own way. He proofed, edited, and controlled
what I wrote -- or should I say what he had me write -- for
column one.
I left J because I thought he had just gotten too wierd, the
things he was doing to me. Since then, I've thought about it a
lot and decided I was just a little slow to adapt. He's okay,
really. I hope I wasn't too hard on him when I left. I really
do care about him.
So anyway, I went to San Francisco for a few months. We
midwesterners don't change our attitudes very readily, but I can
certainly say that I got my prejudices rearranged.
A lot has changed on the net since those days. Saltgirl seems
to be gone for good and STella is the new netqueen. I'm still a
lurker, but maybe not for long: it looks like there is anonymous
posting now, if all this wizvax stuff is what it appears to be.
I guess I'll be posting that way some day if I can figure it out.
I have a lot to learn about using the net, I guess. There are a
lot of new folks out there now. Some of them sound about as
tolerant as the hyperbaptists in the main office of J's
department. They're everywhere, like the roaches. They tried to
get the usenet feed cancelled -- specifically because of ASB and
AS. Except that the hyperbaptists are intolerant of ALL perverts,
not just amateurs like me. Maybe I'd better stay in the closet a
bit longer. Coming out to some of you might not be the thrill
I'd originally thought. I don't relish being forgiven for having
once been a lurker. The attitude seems a bit smug to me. I would
have thought that the people that post on ASB (ESPECIALLY there)
would
hold tolerance in such
profound reverence
that beside it all the other
virtues would seem like
sins.
[Note from the Present: This only applies to Little Retchid,
now. But you knew that after yesterday's post.]
Besides, I'm afraid. I remember what happened to Elf way
back when. And you should have heard the things the
hyperbaptists had to say about ASB'ers. They are genuinely awful
people. They make me afraid, and not just for my career. The
way their jowls quiver with righteous indignation when they act
on behalf of the Lord God Almighty. They seem to believe they
are doing what He would do if only He knew the facts of the case.
If you've read The List, Column One, you'll understand why
I'm pleased to report that I don't have to wear a wig any more
in polite society.
My hair hasn't grown back completely yet, but I dressed a
little punk for a while ....
(although I'm really a little too old to carry it off. Okay,
okay, I'm 28. But I read at the 35 year old level.)
...and I didn't look too out of place in the better parts of San
Francisco. Now I have enough hair to look like Brigitte Nielsen
from the hair up. I'll get a job any day now.
My pubic hair is a problem, though.
IMPORTANT SAFETY TIP: If you want your pubic hair to
look normal, don't use depilatory. I used it regularly
for that month, and it didn't grow back right. I almost
might as well have had electrolysis. It was weeks
before it started to grow back at all, and nearly three
months later it is still so sparse you have to look
twice to be sure I have any at all. If this is
permanent, my next gynecologist is in for a treat.
Seriously. After three months. I have about 15 hairs
down there, and they are thin and only 1/2 inch long.
Thank God J didn't let me use it on my head.
I kept the nipple rings, though, and got a nostril pierced.
So tell me, am I an exhibitionist? I like the way I look, but
I've been hit on a lot by guys lately. Is there something about
a pierced nose that says, "Hey! Guys! Available broad here! Loose
morals! Nymphomaniac!" or what? Men seem to think that it means I
will automatically sleep with them or something. And I didn't. I
couldn't, even if I were attracted. Have you ever seen the
inside of an AIDS ward? Trust me. It takes more guts than I have
to work in one.
So what changed? Is it the nose ring? Or do all men insist
on treating the mons veneris as though it were Mount Everest,
just because it's there? I lost some babyfat while I was
traveling; maybe I look better thinner, (read more attractive to
men), even WITH short hair. Although my tits lost weight, too.
I'm gaining it back, though, now.
Meet The New Me:
So anyway, I'm back. Thats what I said to him. I got back on
a Saturday afternoon, and he came to the door when I knocked. I
dropped my pack on the ground and just stood there for a minute
in the sun, looking at him. It was dry and hot as hell and I had
left Houston the previous morning in my unairconditioned beat-up
VW. The car was dusty, I was dusty, my jeans were dusty. I was
wearing a dirty white tank top and some very beat up down-at heel
boots with duct tape on one. I'd lost weight and had developed
some muscle definition in my arms. Haircut like a man, pierced
nostril, sunglasses, suntan, and an attitude.
"I'm back," I said. He told me I looked pretty good. I did.
"You my bottom now?" He nodded. "Run a bath," I said.
He looked at me for a second longer, picked up my pack.
"Now," I said. He gave me a sharp glance, nodded, and turned to
go into the house. That was as long as the Nouvelle Moi lasted. I
screeched and jumped on him piggy-back and wrapped my legs around
him and bit his ear.
I had planned on being a proper top, at least for a while,
playing the same game with him that he had played with me, being
distant and aloof and tough. One minute. That's how long it
lasted. But I was really hot for one minute. Then pfft. But I
made him sit at the tap end of the tub.
-*-
When we made up the List, J had commented that one
unfulfillable fantasy he had was to know what it felt like to be
me during that month. To be a woman, I mean. Actually, I would
like to know what it's like to have a male body, what the male
orgasm is like, too. He has this idea that the female orgasm is
something mystical and special, much more profound than the
male's. I don't know how anyone can ever prove that to be true,
but it's an idee fixee with him.
[Note from the present: this is as far as I go without help from
my friends. I'm feeling squirrelley at the moment, and I don't
feel comfortable talking about it. You already know we are
experimenting with hypnosis. I have to let it rest here.]
-*-
Nurse Jones, who, if she were really Arnold Schwartzenegger would
still give free medical advice:
Exercise daily,
Eat wisely,
Die anyway.
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