“Hey! I just found a use for that story.” I’m laughing as I stick my
head part way up my current lover’s cunt.
“What’s that?” She speaks in a bored tone. “Aren’t you doing anything
yet? I had the impression from your posts that your head would be big
enough so I’d at least feel *something* when you inserted it. I’ve had
more feeling from popping a zit on my cuntlips.”
“Yeah, well, your cunt’s the only part of you that’s bigger than *your*
head. I can’t help it if you always stick your head up your ass and
miss.” Hell, what am I going to do? I certainly don’t have a penis big
enough to do more than feel inadequate about it. I thought my swollen
head would work but this bitch is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.
“Try this.” I grab the printouts of our latest posts, roll them up – and
insert them. Just as I thought, the whole huge roll is stretching her a
bit.
“Unnggh!” What the hell did you do?” She’s actually writhing in ecstasy.
“Simple, bitch. I stuffed a roll of our posts up that cavern of yours.”
“Feeding off our own egos. I like it.” She’s spasming and the paper is
getting soggy.
“Yeah. You’re a lousy fuck and I ain’t got shit for a tool but at least
we have our minds.”
“So who we gonna rape next?” My question is casual but it has the desired
effect. She arches her back and screams as her orgasm intensifies.
That’s the wonderful part of having egos big enough to think our opinions
are important. We don’t need physical sex to get off. The orgasms *we*
have are much more intense and longer lasting than any *mere* physical
grunts and groans.
She’s gasping for breath. “Hell, I don’t know. Lots of new folks to
choose from. The old timers are getting too savvy about things and not
giving us what we want. How the hell can you deflate egos big enough to
swallow us up and spit us out?”
“Yeah. The more we hammer them, the better they get. No fun when they
keep improving instead of ignoring us.” I wander over to the computer and
look at some of the stories posted. “Hell, I’d love to nail this guy.
Problem is, I feel like I’d be waking a sleeping giant if I piss him off.”
I hear a thud as her bulk hits the floor. Hot breath pants in my ear as
she studies the screen. “Who? Oh. Him.” I can hear the contempt.
“Yeah. I have the feeling even if we used swords instead of potato
peelers, he’d turn us to thin-sliced sushi without turning a hair. I’m
egotistical, not stupid.”
I’m glum. “Damnit. How the hell can you masturbate if the other person
doesn’t play by your rules?”
“What about?…” I point to some of the other people. All are regulars
and all have average or thinner egos.
“Possibilities I guess.” She’s thoughtful. “Most of them are too easy.”
“Yeah. Good point.” I start scrolling through the list of authors we’ve
made.
“How about?” She points to one group of authors.
“Are you crazy? We go after those folks and if we even hint they are
doing better or worse than usual, we’re going to confirm our lack of
credibility. We’d have to admit we read stuff in the more obscure genres
and actually enjoyed some of it. You want to make that mistake, feel
free. But I’m not going to pull your head out of your cunt if you do.”
“Umm. Damnit.” She’s scratching herself absentmindedly. “Yeah. You
know who I hate the most? The ones who do a decent job no matter what
genre they write in. We can praise them or pan them but nobody cares.”
I sigh. “Now there’s one I’d *love* to hammer.” I point to a name.
“Except you took a shot and he ignored you. Not only that, there’s no way
I want to give him a shot at me. He doesn’t use a sword. He uses a damn
rapier and he’s so damn skilled you seldom see it coming in time.”
“What about her? Admits she’s sensitive.” I’m getting desperate. My ego
needs a fix and it’s been a long time.
“Sensitive all right. But, she has a tendency to write folks who irritate
her into stories. And you know what kind of stories she writes.”
“This is ridiculous!” I snarl it softly but with feeling. “What about
some of the proof readers?”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” She stares at me in shock. “Those folks
*routinely* deal with authors. And you want to give some of them the
chance to turn their skills on us?? Get real!”
“Yeah. A point. Not a good one but scary as hell.” I wince as the
screen stops scrolling. “You know, we may have outsmarted ourselves.”
“How? You see something I don’t?” She’s curious.
“Yep. We’ve been so egotistical about out reviews and our ‘only providing
a service’ crap that who’d believe us if we apologized and tried to be
reasonable? Let’s face it. We’ve established ourselves too well in our
own genre. If we try to write some other way, we’re going to get the same
treatment we’ve given everyone else.”
She nods slowly. “Hell. Well, I guess we keep on at what we do best.
After all, it’s not like we’re doing anything anyone else isn’t. If they
can post for themselves, so can we.”
“Yeah. True. But where’s the satisfaction in being ignored?” I point at
some of the threads.
“The hell of it is, they don’t need us but we need them. And, they know
it. With their fans able to post and send email to them, how could we
ever really convince them we actually make a difference?”
I jerk her into my lap. As she leans back against the desk, I ram a fist
inside her. Damn, I feel like I could put a leg in there and it would get
lost.
She reaches down and starts fingering herself. “We do have an
alternative. What’s the one thing most of them do that we don’t?”
“Huh?” I stare.
“Most of *them* are willing to laugh at themselves. They have egos but
they still have fun.”
I gape. “You can’t mean we actually write something?”
“Worse. How about we parody ourselves? Deliberately write some reviews
that are so outlandish nobody can possibly take them seriously?”
I snort softly and turn her so she can see the screen. I point at
half-a-dozen names. “And admit to *those* folks that we’ve been idiots
all along? Are you kidding?”
“Nope. After all, *we’d* have been the ones to set off the bomb.” Her
smile is evil.
“Damnit but you’re stupid at times. You saw what happened the last time
somebody used that idea. Folks are *still* laughing about what happened
to the perp. I want to feed my ego. Not have it lanced like a festering
boil.”
I sigh. “There’s only one solution I can see. We never should have
knee-jerked our responses to criticism. There’s no real defense when your
ego gets out of control – except one.”
“You admit it.” She says it with distaste.
“Yeah. Look, anyone can do reviews if their ego is big enough. It’s not
about facts, it’s about emotions and personal preferences. But…” Here
I sigh. “It galls me to admit reviewers have to have writers around so we
can play our little games.”
“And you have to have all types of writers to be able to pretend to being
‘fair’.” She sighs deeply.
“We’re fucking parasites. Leeches.” I can’t help my bitter laughter.
“The only way past that is to become writers ourselves.”
I grin. “That’s too much work. I’d have to learn to be creative rather
than critical.”
“So.” She matches my bitterness. “To get any sort of credibility back and
incidentally be able to stroke our egos… We have to actually contribute
in a positive manner.”
I nod as my fist starts moving again. “It’s either that or admit we’re
carrying broken potato peelers.”
“I suppose we *could* ignore them and just keep on like nothing has
happened.” She’s musing as my arm moves in and out. “We’ve had to do it
before.”
“Umph. True.” I’m not happy about that solution. “It means no ego
boosting until a new group of writers moves in.”
“Yeah. All we can do is feel superior. Even that wears thin after
awhile.” She’s fingering herself in an attempt to get off. Lord knows
I’m not able to do it for her. Fucking cunt. Even a stallion would feel
lost in her.
Me? Hell, even a *small* bitch would look back in puzzlement and wonder
why I was using what feels like a finger instead of a real prick.
Oh well. What fucking choice do we have? I guess we’ll keep writing
reviews and trying to make each other feel superior.
It’s a sure bet that nobody else will feed our egos any more. —