Wednesday, 16 July 2014
07:25:44 PM (GMT)
August 19th. His birthday. Malory, his roommate-turned-lover, was
lying in bed with him, her black-painted fingernails clicking against the cup of
coffee she was sipping. She was saying something about how sweet it was that they’d
ended up together, just a natural development, an inevitability. But in his mind, he
countered her every statement with his own side of the story; he’d worked hard for
this. He’d never admit it to her, but from day one he’d been calculating how to
win her. They’d met through friends, introduced at a concert, and her shiny,
waist-length black hair, and lithe, long-limbed body had captivated him immediately.
They became good friends, but never were their interactions without a hint of
flirting. And finally, when he asked her to be his roommate, he was overjoyed when
she accepted, and when he added something about keeping each other warm on cold
nights, she didn’t disagree.
If he was being completely honest with himself, there was something else that had
attracted him to her. When they went out, she’d almost always do her make-up in a
very interesting way; it was Gothic, simply put, but with a unique touch. She painted
her lips a light blue, like a corpse’s. Her face was pale white and her cheeks made
to look hollow and sunken with bronzer. Her eyes were rimmed in purples, browns, and
blacks, and the natural pale blue of her irises looked ghostly. It was more than
intriguing to him. It was important. It was important to him that girls like Malory
existed, girls who painted their faces like corpses. He learned to appreciate her
music, with it’s deep, droning baritone vocals and dark lyrics, and he’d started
dressing in darker colors. This only encouraged her affection. It was a trick of his,
to play chameleon for girls, conforming to their style. It caused him guilt,
sometimes. He tried not to think about… There was no use thinking about that.
And so, on the night of his birthday, he finally asked Malory the question he’d
been dying to ask her for some time. They’d already had sex once, and she’d been
clingy every since, which he enjoyed. He took the plastic package from the drawer in
his bedside table. Sleeping Beauty, it said across the top in swooping blue
letters. It contained a single pill, held in a bubble of plastic. The pill looked
like a blue pearl. Malory stared at it, waiting for an explanation.
“I have a little confession for you,” he began. “I have a sort of…
fetish.” He paused for her reaction, but she only widened her eyes and waited for
him to continue, so he did. “I have this fantasy… I want to have sex while
you’re asleep. This is a pill, I ordered it online. It’s just a sleeping pill,
but it’s made specifically for this. It knocks you out for an hour, and then you
She pursed her lips and asked the question he was dreading. “Why?”
“It’s just… Well it’s called somnophilia. It’s just…” he blushed,
suddenly embarrassed. She was going to refuse, he was sure.
“Okay, fine, but only because it’s your birthday.”
He exhaled all his tension and hugged her so hard he knocked the now-empty coffee
cup to the floor. “Thank you, Mal.” He kissed her cheek.
“Are you sure it’s safe, though?”
“Oh, of course, I researched it a lot before I bought it.”
“Well, alright.” She left the room and came back with scissors and a glass of
water. She cut the package open and rolled the pill in her fingers, staring at it.
Then she took a deep breath, and swallowed it, downing the glass of water at the same
time. She lied down on the bed beside him, and he cuddled her against him. Within
minutes, she was out cold.
The pill did a little more than make the user fall asleep. It also relaxed nearly
all of Malory’s muscles, making her limp as a rag doll. She’d been wearing his
t-shirt, and black lace panties. He removed both, and spent a moment just staring at
her pale body. He cupped her pretty breasts in his hands, squeezing them and watching
her face for any sort of reaction. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing slow,
each exhale a tiny sigh. Her eyes were closed, and occasionally her eyelashes would
flutter or twitch, but only ever so slightly. He ran his hands along her body,
feeling the soft curve of her hips. Then he pushed her legs apart, and petted the
soft hairs on her pussy that she’d trimmed but not shaved. This would be the final
test; he slipped a finger between her labia and rubbed hard against her clit. She
made a small gasping sound but didn’t awaken. He knew from the first time he’d
fucked her that her clit was so sensitive she didn’t like it directly touched, so
this was quite a testament to the success of the pill. Satisfied, he removed his own
clothing and sat near her on the bed. He took a bottle of lubricant and squirted a
glob of it onto his fingers, then rubbed it on the inside of her pussy. He took a
condom from the drawer as well, but on second thought, he put it back. It was his
birthday, after all, and he knew she used birth control. Then, these things
completed, he settled himself above her. He stared at her naked body a moment,
rubbing his dick, which was so hard it was actually throbbing. He couldn’t believe
she’d agreed to do this so easily. He forced himself inside her roughly, and was
indescribably satisfied when she didn’t so much as stir. She looked so perfect in
the dim lighting. He gripped her shoulder with one hand, her hip with the other, and
fucked her hard. He was amazed at how deep he could get, now that her muscles were so
relaxed. He wanted to take his time with her, so he slowed down and for a few long
minutes only humped her softly. It was like torture, though, pleasant torture, to
force himself to go slow when he wanted to pump her full of his cum right now.
Eventually he gave in, blissfully, and fucked her full force, only pausing when he
heard her head thud against the wall. He pulled her body back lower onto the bed and
continued until he was finished, and even after he kept humping, wanting the moment
to last, until he finally collapsed in exhaustion. He fell asleep.
He awoke the next morning, still lying atop her, but his dick no longer in her. She
was still fast asleep. He was nearly late for work, so he took a cold shower,
grinning the whole time at the perfection of last night. When he went back to his
room to get dressed, and saw her naked body still lying silently on his bed, he was
tempted to relive his birthday night right then and there, but he couldn’t be late
for work again, so he hurried on his way.
September 4th. “Please?” he was practically begging now. Malory
glared at him from the bathtub, where she was bathing in milk, something she claimed
did wonders for her pale skin.
“No. Way. You told me it would knock me out for an hour. I slept through
the whole night and the next morning and I missed class. No fucking way am I going to
lie dead to the world for that long again. Besides, that was your birthday present,
remember? That was a one time deal. Now get out of here, I’m bathing.”
He slammed the bathroom door, his cheeks burning with humiliated anger. Fine. If she
wouldn’t, he had another option.
There was a bar nearby called the Reading Room, a lounge offering shelves of
best-sellers and independent novels, and overpriced alcohol. It was frequented by
college students, hipsters especially. Goth was tricky; hipster, however, should be
easy by comparison. It was time for the chameleon to change colors again. It truly
seemed like a matter of survival to him now.
He had a bow tie that, when tied correctly, showed the image of a skeleton lying
down horizontally. He’d bought it with Malory in mind, but he figured a bow tie was
a bow tie. He put it on, with a white dress shirt, black and red suspenders, olive
green corduroys that were the closest thing he owned to skinny jeans, and tan saddle
shoes he’d found at a thrift store. As a final touch, he spiked his hair slightly
and threw on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. It was the best he could do on short
notice, but any act was more about the personality than the appearance, anyway.
He entered the Reading Room at ten o’clock, and immediately saw her. She had long
hair, bleached so light it was nearly white. She wore high-waisted shorts with gold
anchor buttons, and a ruffled, mismatched floral blouse, and clunky brown leather
boots. The outfit showed off her perfect hourglass figure. He wanted to wrap his arms
around her little waist. Smack her little round ass. Fuck her. Oh yes, she was the
one he wanted. He chuckled to himself before buying a drink.
He sat down boldly near her. She seemed to be alone. He introduced himself.
“Yeah… Yeah, nice to meet you,” she muttered. “Sorry if I’m bad company,
I’m a little down tonight. This guy was supposed to meet me here tonight, but it
looks like he stood me up again.”
“What an ass.”
She sighed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t unload my problems on you. Anyway, my name is
He had to laugh. “Will you be October next month?”
“Oh hush. I’ve heard it all before.”
They talked for quite a while, and he managed to sell her on a number of
fabrications, including a story about how he was a poet and a photographer who had
published several books, and how he dreamed of traveling the world with his dream
girl some day. He was amazed at how easily she took the bate. People were so
Half past eleven, she was positively drunk. He made his intentions known to her
(well, except for the part about her being unconscious) and she let herself be led to
his car. “Here, have some water, sweetheart.” He handed her a bottle of water
he’d dissolved the Sleeping Beauty pill in hours ago. She gulped it down, and he
hurried back to his apartment. Luckily for him, he got there before she passed out.
He helped her into the elevator, grateful that they didn’t pass anyone else, and
before he knew it, she was lying on his bed, out cold. Malory was gone, working a
late shift. He had the place to himself, and he was going to take advantage of it.
(And of Ms. September, he thought to himself, suddenly feeling a little strange.) But
there was no turning back now. He had a little trouble removing her boots, and the
rest of her outfit was tight and complicated, with buttons that did nothing and
zippers that were hidden under seams. Finally he undressed her, and was disappointed
upon removing her bra to find that it was mostly padding. But even with small
breasts, her body was adorable, and he propped her up on a pile of pillows before
fucking her violently. At one point, she moaned, and he froze, afraid she was waking
up. But she lied still and silent in his arms, so he continued. Eventually he pulled
out and flipped her over. He wanted to feel that cute little ass. He wasn’t an anal
enthusiast, but he managed to get his dick into her pussy from behind after propping
her up with a few pillows under her hips. He cringed when one particularly hard
thrust made her face slam against the wall. He’d have to find a way to stop that.
He took a pillow from underneath her and put it between her face and the wall. Then
he continued to have his way with her, enjoying the lightweight, petite body that was
limp beneath him.
Only when he finished did he realize he was in trouble. Her nose was bruising badly.
What if it was broken? Oh, he prayed it wasn’t. He couldn’t just drop her off at
the hospital; if she suspected he’d taken advantage of her, his DNA was inside her.
This could get ugly. He had to come up with a story, a good one. This was to be the
ultimate test of his acting skills.
He cleaned her up and redressed her, in everything except for her boots. She
didn’t stir. He made her comfortable on his bed, careful to make it look like the
bed had been made and he’d only slipped her under the covers. Then he locked the
door from the inside, so that September would be able to get out, but no nosy Malorys
would be able to get in. Exhausted and anxious, he swallowed several glasses of
water, and slept on the couch in the living room.
He woke up with only the slightest hangover, and went and knocked on his bedroom
door. No response. Malory was sleeping in her room; he could hear her snoring. He
went to the kitchen and made breakfast.
Soon enough, September emerged, looking disoriented and pale, except for the large
purple bruise that was even bigger now, spilled across her nose. “Where am I?”
“Calm down, sweetheart, it’s alright.” He drew her into an embrace. “Sit
down, I’ve got breakfast for you.”
He gave her eggs, toast, the last of the bacon, and a couple Tylenol with some
expresso to wash it down. “You wanted to come home with me last night. But when I
took you to my apartment, you were so drunk you passed out on the staircase and hit
your nose. I realized you were far too intoxicated to be making decisions and it
wouldn’t be right, so I just tucked you into my bed, and I slept on the couch.”
“Oh…” she hung her head, looking confused and ashamed. “My nose does hurt.
Oh god, it’s awful. And my temples are pounding.” She groaned, and chugged the
“You can sleep here a little longer, if you need to.”
“Oh, no, I need to be getting back. My roommate, she’ll be wondering about me.
Can you drive me back to the Reading Room?”
“I’ll drive you to your apartment. I don’t think you’d better be driving in
“Oh, I’ll be…” she trained off into moaning again. He thought he could see
her pulse in the bruise. “Okay, fine, drive me home. Thank you. You’re very kind.
I can’t believe I’m so stupid.”
He felt the act waver, but he forced it back into place.
He drove her home. She asked for his phone number, and he wrote down a fake one. She
seemed like a sweet girl, but he couldn’t risk seeing her again, because if she
ever found out what he’d done, she’d hate him, and he couldn’t bear it.
He returned to his apartment and collapsed in his bed, feeling like scum. Complete,
utter scum. Shit. A word he’d been careful to block out of his mind now slipped in
unexpectedly. “Rape,” he said under his breath. Was that what he’d done? He
stumbled to the bathroom and threw up.
“Hey? Uh… Are you alright?” Malory was knocking on the door. There was no
lock, so she came in, and saw him. For the first time, between the two of them, he
was the one that more closely resembled a corpse.
“Jeez. Do you need to go to a doctor?” she asked.
He shook his head wearily.
“Listen, okay?” Malory sighed. “I do want to sleep with you. I… I
love you. But I don’t see why I have to be asleep to do it. I want to know what’s
going on, I want to feel it, you know? Are you listening to me?”
He pushed past her and stumbled to the kitchen, where he rinsed his mouth out with a
glass of water several times. She followed. When the taste of vomit was only faint in
his mouth, he kissed her. She hugged him. “You love me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Please, don’t ever stop.”
He needed a shower, so he took one, and afterwards they made love, in her bed this
Last edited: 16 July 2014