Message-ID: <29706asstr$986429401@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: michaeld38@aol.communism (MichaelD38) X-Original-Message-ID: <20010404153750.24059.00001985@nso-md.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} Michael Empties His Hopper (MichaelD)(fant, ff, M+F, hist, nosex)(1/2) Date: Wed, 4 Apr 2001 20:10:01 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, apuleius AUTHOR'S NOTE AND LEGAL STUFF I did not e-mail you this story. If you unexpectedly found it in your mailbox, it's because your kid and/or your spouse is subscribing to adult newsgroups without your knowledge. Flame them, not me. This story contains explicit sex. If you're a minor, you've obviously gotten past whatever paltry filters your parents tried to put on your computer, so hell, you might as well read it. No one ever died from reading about sex. This story is mine. Free reposting and archiving is okay; commercial use is not (that includes using it on some slimeball banner farm). Contact me if you have any questions; cross me and I'll have you fed to rabid weasels. This is a random collection of five dead story fragments, presented in no particular order, in an effort to empty my hopper of unfinished prose. I present it not as part of the MichaelD oeuvre but as a glimpse of what doesn't qualify for prime time at MichaelD, Inc. Don't expect a whole lot, eh? My stories, including this one, are archived at: www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MichaelD/www/ www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Richard_Bissell/www www.storiesonline.net --- MICHAEL EMPTIES HIS HOPPER (fant, ff, M+F, hist, nosex) Copyright 2001 by MichaelD38@aol.com. No commercial use without prior authorization. <-> Title: A Fairy Tale When the snow finally began to fall, the moon had long since set, chasing the sun, and inky blackness cloaked the forest. A soft hiss was the only sign of the descending bits of ice, which settled first onto the long branches of the trees (tall fragrant pines all of them, for little else filled this end of the world), then the dry detritus of the forest floor. Only when the wind picked up after midnight did the snow begin to pile up against the door of the cottage. It was an insignificant thing, walls of mortared stone, a thatch roof, a single chimney, from which arose a thin stream of smoke (the last trace of dinner, perhaps?). A single path led from the door into the forest; where it went from there, one could not tell so easily. Dry firewood lay stacked high against one wall. A single lamp burned in the window. Through it, were you to approach and peer through the blurry, hand-cast glass pane, you might see the cottage's owner (or at least she though of herself that way)-a fluffy calico cat. She sniffed at a draft in the window. It was far too cold for her, whatever interesting things might be going on outside. She walked back down the bookcase, gracefully threading her way past canisters of dried herbs and jars of pickled forest creatures. The fire was down; there was too little warmth there either. The cat finally returned to the bed, jumping up, and curled up on her housemate's lap. The woman stirred, but did not awake. The book that had put her to sleep shifted on the covers as the cat found a spot she liked. She sniffed at the book. A trace odor of something odd drifted from it-bat wings or mouse tails perhaps. She fought the instinct to claw at the book, knowing by now that books were not good eating. She curled up tighter, wrapping her tail around her, and fell asleep in a few minutes. --- --- Untitled. When California began its lottery some years back, the stated purpose was to benefit the schools, since the revenue from ticket sales was supposed to replace the tax money that had been lost to Proposition 13. Whether the system is better off now depends on who you ask, but if you want to ask *me*, the school kids where I live are certainly better off because of the Lottery. At least from my perspective. God knows I am. A year ago, I was living in a trailer park just outside Fresno. I played the lottery every week like most of the other trash in the neighborhood, but I had yet to win more than a few bucks doing it. About the middle of last March, the jackpot got stacked up because nobody had won in a few weeks. When it topped $80 million that Friday, I took my paycheck from my job behind the register at Circle K and blew it all on Lottery tickets. Honest to God. I don't know what I planned on paying the rent with, but that was what I did. So come Saturday night, I plopped myself in front of the TV with a 12 pack of PBR and my pile of tickets. I had begun to realize what an idgit thing I had done blowing my whole check on the Lottery, so by the time the broadcast came on, I was about as wired as a rat in a boarded-up shithouse. I had so many tickets that I couldn't keep up with the balls dropping into the slot, but I had the presence of mind to write down the numbers before the show cut to a commercial. It took me another three or four minutes to figure out I had hit the goddamned jackpot. Well, I started hooting and hollering and spraying beer around my trailer until that old bag Nellie, who managed the park, came banging on my door telling me to shut the fuck up. So I told her to shove her big mouth up her fat ass 'cause I was getting out of there. Goddamn, I sure don't miss that old bat. Anyway, I had the choice of taking the money over twenty years or getting it all in one big check, so of course I wanted it all. Once the tax man took his bite, I was looking at a pile of just over $25 million in cold cash. I went out and bought me a new cherry-red Corvette, and for a week or two, I was too busy partying and buying beer for all the friends I suddenly had to think about moving out of the trailer park. But when I drove my new car into a tree and fucking totaled it two weeks after getting the money, I decided it was time to start looking for new digs. I went into the nearest Century 21 office and told them I wanted to buy a big ranch somewhere far the fuck away from Fresno. Pretty soon, they found me this hundred-acre spread up past Napa, with a big old mansion right in the middle of it. Whoever had lived there before had it done up in some dumb faggoty-ass Southwestern style, so I had them rip all that shit out and put in some cool tiger-skin patterned carpet. I bought six big-screen TV's and a La-z-boy for each one, then went down to the local swap meet and bought damn near every neon beer sign and velvet painting they had. The house even had a cool wine cellar, where I could stockpile enough PBR to last me five years. Once I got done decorating the place, though, I started to get bored. I'd dumped all my old friends back in Fresno and didn't know a damned soul up here. I ran through all the chicks in the local escort service without finding one I liked much, --- --- AUTHOR'S NOTE This story is one more in the continuing Kaitlyn-Becca saga. Those few of you who bothered to read my contribution to the Fantasy Train may recall a reference to this story therein. Consistent with the previous two stories ("Bad Girls" and "Airheads"), this one also filches the title of a completely unrelated movie. "Scenes From a Mall" is also a Woody Allen film starring Allen and Bette Midler. I don't suppose I need to say that no relationship is intended or should be inferred. SCENES FROM A MALL, or, KAITLYN AND BECCA GO SHOPPING <-> "I am so fucking bored. I cannot believe how fucking bored I am." I shake my head at Becca. I fucking knew this was going to happen. "This was your lame idea. I wanted to stay home and just hang out there." "I'd be even more bored there." --- --- Untitled Preface. Within male barroom subculture, there is a popular myth that goes something like this. Since, according to the law of averages, there must be a certain non-zero percentage of women out there who are looking for anonymous sex, it ought to be possible to get laid by doing nothing more than going around and asking enough women, "Do you want to fuck?" The absence of a successful proof of this theorem (it's always, "a friend of a guy I know tried it once") has never dented its popularity among horny men in a bar. That dealing with several hundred angry rejections seems preferable to honestly trying to get to know someone should tell you something about men in general, but that isn't the point of this story. I bring it up to address the crux of the theorem: I am here to tell you that it is possible to use the law of averages to get laid. Did I troll the barrooms for anonymous sex one night, you might ask? No. What I did was something else entirely. And it has worked far better than I ever expected. Let me back up before I go any further. Six years ago, when I was twenty years old, I dropped out of college to start my own company. The Internet, as I'm sure you know, was still in its infancy then, but I had an idea for something I thought might work. The first two years, I worked alone in my parent's garage, borrowing money from them to live on. I didn't make a dime from any of it until 1995. A year later, after we went public, I was worth over a hundred million dollars. Unfortunately, all of it was on paper, and working a hundred hours a week (at least), I had no time to think of spending any of my newfound wealth. In early 1998, AOL (which had just bought Netscape) and Microsoft both realized that my little invention was the key to a major leap forward in web browsers, and they got into a bidding war for my company. When the battle was over, I was sitting on just over $500 million. Most of it was Microsoft stock (which has continued to increase in value), but I had a hefty pile of cash as well. What I no longer had was a job. All Microsoft wanted was the patent on my software, and frankly, I had no real interest in working for Bill Gates anyway (I actually met him once, which another, far less pleasant story). So once all the taxes were paid, and my investors and attorneys got their share, I simply walked away--with more money than I ever thought to see in my life. What can you do with a quarter of a billion dollars? Quite a lot. I traveled, threw some parties, and wasted a lot of money on high-priced call girls. But one morning last year, as I lay in my bed on the eighteenth-floor of the Plaza Hotel in New York and watched a pair of leggy blondes leaving the room with a few thousand dollars of my fortune in their purses, I realized I wanted something more. It wasn't just a mistress. I could have had those in spades, and indeed, more than a few girls had been making not-so-subtle applications for the job lately. I didn't want a professional, and (this being the age-old dilemma of the wealthy single man) I didn't want a girl whose main motivation was my money. I let my mind drift, fantasizing about what might be most enjoyable. I knew from my experiences with all these call girls that one woman could not possibly be enough. So I would need a couple of them. Several, maybe. More than three might be difficult to manage, but then it might also prevent any one of them from trying to squeeze out the others. Four or five, then? That might work, but no more than six. Even that many would make intimacy difficult. Because, as I thought about it, I realized that I wanted more than a collection of vaginas. I wanted a collection of women with whom I could have real relationships. So what else, I thought. It would be more fun if they were all bisexual. I had done enough romping with multiple hookers to know that much. And I wanted them fairly young, certainly not as old as I was. No older than twenty-two or twenty-three. What did that leave me with? Six sweet, open-minded, beautiful, bisexual women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three, who did not care about sharing their man with four or five other girls and who could all live in the same house without eventually scratching each other's eyes out. I came uncomfortably back down to earth. One girl like that I probably could find. Two? Maybe. But six of them? No way in hell. That was when I remembered that little theorem, which my friends in college had often joked about when we went out drinking. And a light came on in my head. My specifications were obviously exacting. Women like that were no doubt very, very rare. But surely a few of them existed? And out of all the millions and millions of women in the U.S. and Canada (and maybe Europe and Asia as well, if I looked for English-speaking girls), could I not find just six who would be attracted to an idea like this one? For an ordinary twenty-five-year-old male, it was a pipe dream--but I might actually have the resources to make it work. And that was how it all started. --- One. I began brainstorming on my flight home the next day. I didn't get very far into my planning before realizing that even if I managed to put together this harem (as I had already begun to think of it) I had nowhere to put it. I still had in an apartment in San Jose (though I had spent very little time there recently), but I was planning to move as soon as I could manage it. I had bought some land in Southern California a few months ago, and I was preparing to build this palatial house overlooking the ocean in Orange County. I had yet to break ground on it because I was still working with the architects about what I wanted. A carbon-copy of Bill Gates's ultra-wired $50 million house in Seattle was out of the question, but I was going to try to come close. I wanted a completely integrated network that would allow me to control the entire house--security, entertainment, climate, lighting, and maintenance--from my PDA, even if I was 15,000 miles away. I had even ordered a custom-designed DVD repository that would allow access to a library of thousands of movies and software titles on demand. Each room was going to have a seamlessly integrated television/computer display terminal with full stereo surround sound. But as I looked over the latest blueprints in my laptop, I realized that I didn't have enough bedrooms to accommodate this new idea, let alone enough bathrooms. As I thought about it, I decided that if I was going to ask six different women to move in with me, I ought to make them as comfortable as possible. That meant I needed six full-sized bedrooms, each with its own full bath. The architects were going to have a fit when I told them about this, but at the hourly rate they were billing me, I figured they had no business complaining. After an hour on the Airphone, I had worked out the basic parameters for what amounted to an entirely new wing of my house. I would have three rooms upstairs and three downstairs, all of them opening to a two-story atrium/den that faced the ocean and the elaborate pool I had designed earlier. The architects grumbled and mumbled ("You realize this will add about $5 million to the bottom line?") but went along with it. --- When I got home, I began my preparations in earnest. My first thought was some sort of mass mailing. For around a thousand bucks, I could get a list of about 90% of all the e-mail addresses in existence. I could also, in less than an hour of work, cross-post some sort of want ad to the entire Usenet. But spamming the world in that fashion would get me in far more trouble than it was worth. The few honest responses I might get would be buried under a mountain of flames, complaints, and fake replies. Then again, there was the issue of my own privacy. An affront to the Internet of that nature would assuredly have some people trying to figure out who sent it, and I knew that no matter what firewalls I tried to erect, someone would probably find out who I was. "Internet Millionaire Tries to Assemble Harem by Spamming the World" would make for a very embarrassing headline. I also realized that I wanted women who had enough self-respect not to respond to such a blatant come-on. So my search had to be more focused and circumspect. I thought that if I could narrow it down to a list of a few hundred women, I could then hire a private investigator to gather the necessary personal information on them. But to narrow it down--there was the rub. I started out on America Online and the other major online services, browsing profile after profile. I knew that working in this fashion was eliminating a large chunk of women who were not wired into the net, but I could think of no other way to complete the search before I was too old to enjoy the fruits of it. A search of "bisexual" (which seemed like the most restrictive parameter) on America Online still pulled up over 10,000 matches. As I browsed through them, I soon realized that this was going to be very difficult. The women who put "bisexual" in their profile seemed, overwhelmingly, to be women looking for other bi-females. At least two-thirds of them had "**NO MEN**" or something similar in them. As a programmer, I was used to spending weeks sifting through endless lines of code. Searching thousands of profiles would not be so different from what I had been doing the last five years. But I kept coming back to a fundamental weakness in this idea. Even if I found a few women who might be attracted to my proposal, how were they going to react to what was essentially a cold call, an e-mail out of the blue inviting them to join my harem? No matter how I turned it over in my head, I kept feeling that I would do nothing but trigger defense mechanisms and make them think I was some sort of nut. What I had to do was bring them to me. The direct approach just wasn't going to work. I gave up on the profiles and began browsing through the alt.personals newsgroups. There I found more reason for optimism. Even discounting the probable percentage of trolls, there seemed to be a fair number of women using the newsgroups to make connections. So after an hour or two of lurking, I decided this was the place to start. I spent the entire next day working on my ad. The longer it was, and the more details I could put into it, the more I thought it would appear serious and not some sort of joke. I described what I had in mind and the house I was building for it, I listed specifically what I wanted (and what I did not want), and I tried to make it clear that the selection process would be fairly long and involved. This was what I finally came up with. --- I am an unusual man with an unusual idea. I am searching for one or more women who wish to join my household as favored and pampered partners. But this will be far from an ordinary household. I am independently wealthy, and I have committed several million dollars (yes, you are reading that correctly) toward making my dream a reality. I am twenty-five years old, and I have recently sold an Internet company that I started five years ago. This has left me with a great deal of money (into nine figures) and as much leisure time as I please. I am hoping to find a few unique women to join me. I fully expect that very, VERY few women will be interested in what I have in mind. If you are already turned off by this post, please waste no more of your time and move on to the next thread. Otherwise, you may read on for the specifics. First, let me tell you what I am NOT looking for. I do NOT want casual sex partners or gold diggers. I do NOT want professional mistresses or hookers looking to escape the business. Were that all I wished for, I could have it very easily. I expect that I could have it with a few dozen phone calls. This arrangement, as I envision it, will be about much more than sex. I am also not looking for slaves or submissives in need of a serious Master. Because I am hoping to bring several women into this arrangement, I cannot commit to the time and energy that would be required to service a stable full of slaves. Recreational bondage and sex play is certainly possible, but a full-time Dom/sub relationship is (probably) out of the question. I am building a very large house in Southern California, where you would, obviously, need to relocate. You will have your own spacious room with its own bath and a gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean. The house will be fully wired and networked, with entertainment systems and broadband Internet connections in every bedroom. You will have the use of your own car (though the title will remain in my name) of whatever make and model you wish. All living expenses will be taken care of by me, and I expect that we will travel out of California, and out of the country, several times a year. You will, of course, not be required to work, but should you wish to pursue any form of higher education (there are several excellent universities within commuting distance of the house), I will cover all your tuition and expenses. You will be free to come and go as you please. I am not building a dungeon of sex slaves--I am building a home for what I hope will be a large and happy family. In addition, you will be the beneficiary of a trust I will set up, which will vest after one year and increase in value as long as you remain with me. Should our relationship end for any reason once the trust has vested, whatever money exists in it will be yours free and clear. The qualities of the partners that I have in mind are as follows. I am flexible with regard to most of this depending on what else may be involved. --You should be between 18 and 23. --You should be fit and physically attractive. I do not expect you to look like Cindy Crawford, but I am an attractive man myself, and I have fairly high standards. Please do not let this criterion stop you from responding, however--I may find you attractive even if you do not think so yourself. --You should be intelligent, articulate, open-minded, and easy to get along with. You will be sharing a household with several other women, and you should be able to adapt well to such a situation. --If you are bisexual or at least bi-curious, this is a bonus, but it is not a prerequisite. --You should be prepared for a long-term commitment. The following requirements are NOT flexible: --You must be clean, healthy, childless, and drug-free. Out of an interest in not bringing STDs in my house, I will require (and pay for) a full medical examination. --You must enter this arrangement openly and honestly. Please understand that to protect myself from possible fraud, I must conduct thorough background checks on serious candidates. --I will require you to sign a perpetual confidentiality agreement in which you will forfeit all monies in your trust account should you discuss any part of our relationship with the media. I will also require you to sign an agreement in which you waive any claims for palimony or similar damages in exchange for the money in your trust account. Again, this is only to protect myself from possible blackmail and to protect the family from disruption by members who chose to leave. You do not need to be a U.S. citizen or currently live in the United States. I will have my attorneys handle all necessary immigration and visa requirements for you should it become necessary. One strong warning is in order, however--I will not tolerate anyone trying to exploit this arrangement to gain a U.S. residency permit. Any misconduct of that nature will result in your being reported to the I.N.S. I do not expect you to move into my house a week after we meet (the house will not completed for several months in any case). What I want are genuine relationships, and I am prepared to commit the time to develop them--you will not be required to make an immediate decision. We will, obviously, meet and get to know each other once contact is established. I will pay for all travel expenses (first class airfare and hotel accommodations) involved in arranging a meeting. I am, as I have said, looking for sincere, honest replies ONLY. You should tell me enough about yourself for me to get a good picture of who you are, and if you feel comfortable in sending a photo, you may certainly do so (but please do not feel obligated to; we will get to that point eventually). I will, of necessity, conduct checks on the addresses of those who respond, so it may take a while for me to get back to you. Responding through an anonymizer is a sure way of ensuring that I will not respond to you. I also may not respond if my initial evaluation indicates to me that you are not a suitable candidate. Only serious inquiries will receive responses. If you have gotten this far, I hope I have piqued your interest. If I have, please do NOT respond right away. Give it some thought before you do, because I want only serious, thoughtful partners. When you are sure this is what you want out of your life, I will be waiting for your reply. --- Using the most secure anonymizer I had access to, I posted the message to the half dozen newsgroups I thought were the most on-topic. Then I shut off my computer and went to a movie. --- Two. When I finally got up the guts to check the responses the next day, I found exactly one reply. One. And it was from a guy offering to "help" with the selection process. So I posted it again. A few hours later, I got the following response: Well Mr. Moneybags... all very interesting to say the least. Bullshit I'm sure, but one of the more interesting and creative posts I've seen as of late. If you've got the $$$ to blow, how about sending me a cashier's check, in the amount of $100,000, made out to -cash- and delivered to a PO box to fund my college tuition? No huh? Didn't think so... but hey, can ya blame a girl for trying??? If you ever get a philanthropic moment in your life and would like to benefit a truly ambitious and promising college student, let me know... If you ever get over your sophomoric infatuation with buying a crew of fuck bunnies that is... At any rate, kudos on the post... you should find several thousand emails most entertaining for a while... such a creative mind, wasted on the pleasures of the flesh... tsk tsk... Take care... oh, and Good Luck! LOL I felt like writing back and telling her just how far I was from getting "several thousand e-mails" but decided to let it go. Obviously, this was going to be even more difficult than I thought. Unfortunately, almost all of the responses I got were useless. Most were not even sincere responses--they were either flames from offended women ("This is the sickest thing I've ever heard of! I hope someone throws you in jail!") or men wanting in on the idea (one guy even offered to be my "houseboy"--I wasn't sure I wanted to know what exactly he had in mind ). Five responses expressed interest, but after spending an hour checking the sources, I determined that three of them were men. That left me with two possibilities. The first was from a woman in Iowa. Her letter sounded interesting, but the photo she sent immediately turned me off. She wasn't precisely unattractive, but she simply wasn't my type--big hair and too much make-up, which made me wonder what she looked like unadorned. The second was something else, though. It was from a woman in Florida, as soon as I got into the second paragraph, I felt like this might be a genuine hit. --- --- (end of that story, post continued in 2/2) Michael ~Story Archives~ www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MichaelD/www/ www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Richard_Bissell/www ~Other Archives~ www.storiesonline.net www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/BitBard/www/forray/michaeld/ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+