THE WORLD ACCORDING TO A JUNKIE – A work of fiction

Posted: October 18, 2018 in Cyberpunk, fiction, Random stuff--read at your own risk!
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The world according to a junkie

Chapter one

The Part where I die

There I was, sitting in a club, 2079, people were around me, dancing, talking, blowing their mind, witness to the beginning of the end, razor blades slices up and down their arms.

“Polish fag!” A woman came screaming out from the bathroom, chasing some guy out into the street.

That’s how it was.

Nothing to see.

Move along.

Some shitty band played “disco is dying” up on stage.

I was dying, one second a time.

The screaming lady came back in, sat down next to me.

First time I met her, back when I first got here, to this city, I knew there was something different about her from the other ladies working the joint.

She was a guy, I could tell by her hands.

And the cock sticking out from under her short dress.

“You got any shit?” She asked, smiling.

“Up at my place…”

We both stood, leaving the place, for my dump up the street.

Cheryl was her name, a forty dollar whore, “lady” of the night.

But for some “candy” she was yours for a few hours.

I wasn’t gay, far from it, but all the girls, with cunts, all wanted more and later, as we laid in my stained bed, we would talk, about nothing.

It felt like a relationship.

“You ever think about…” Cheryl said, placing her head on my chest.

I could feel her cock near my leg, just there.

I shrugged.

“Future never comes, like someone else I know!” I laughed.

She pushed off from my chest, flicking my nipples with her hot red painted finger nails, laughing.

“I will come boy, I will come!”

I felt her hands wrap around my cock, beginning to stroke it back to full erection.

When I awoke, Cheryl, like always, was gone, back to her life uptown.

I once passed her in that life, straight man, working at a bank, as a teller.

“Hello sir, how can I help you today?” He smiled.

“Hi Jim!” I said reading his name tag, almost laughing.

It was an awkward moment, one I wouldn’t live down, three days later, my place.

“Don’t you EVER call me by my Slave name!” She growled at me.

“Jim?” I almost laughed, tears in my eyes.

“Yea! My mother, the bitch, named me that, after my grandfather, the same cock fucker who molested me from the time I was 11 years old till I sliced his dick off when I was 14 and ran away, to this place!”

I never called her Jim again.

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