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Whisperer’s Tale



So I’m at the dance for the art group, and I get paired up with this creepy dorky guy. He’s a foot shorter than me. Immediately, he named dropped Queen George and our third, Trudy. I asked him, “if you know Queen George, how come I haven’t see you around?” I don’t remember what his answer was, but he told me some personal information about them so I knew he must have spent time with them. He told me he had dated Trudy in college.

So anyway I didn’t have any choice, and I was paired up with him, and he had me captured. So he just kept talking, trying to convince me to let him back in the group, to put in a good word for him with Queen George and Trudy.

You see, Queen George was Queen of the Scene, and I was her second in command. We had Goth girl, Trudy, and the Wigger. We ran the scene, as it were. Our parties were the parties to be at. We knew everyone. We would meet, at some point, every young girl new to town and decide whether we would let her in, or if she was too slutty and we wouldn’t.

So after we did the dance practice and we all went to this restaurant, and the Artist was there, and knew the creepy guy, and greeted him warmly. Creepy guy was now beaming because he knew now I would stick around, because there was the Artist. He was the most famous person in town. So we immediately hit it off and at some point he asked me to come back to his studio, which I did, but I brought the creepy guy as a chaperone. What, you thought I was going to go back to an artist’s studio by myself, the afternoon I met him – it was still light outside! What do you think I am, a slut?

So we went back to studio which was also a gallery – and he didn’t have the key. So, I said, come to the farm. The Artist immediately started giving directions to the creepy guy of how to get to the farm. But he left out some key information. On purpose. He didn’t need directions, because he had been there plenty of times and had painted the farmhouse.

So, off we went. We lost the creepy guy on the way, where he turned right instead of left, and I never bothered answering the phone. Oh wait, he didn’t call me, because he was too cheap to even have a cell phone. He actually went back to his office and called. By then it was too late, the Artist and I were walking down to the field with the cows and the bull. I did my whispering, and got the bull to run off so we could hang out.

The Artist was fascinated that I could talk to animals this way, but I have always been able to do it. He was this 2,000 Angus bull. He was black.

The Slut

The Slut

I took him to the end of the field where there was a huge tree, that I could always feel an energy field around. I would take people there to see if they felt it. Yeah, and some people did and some didn’t. The Artist must have felt it, because he started taking all of these pictures of me, but told me not to put them on Facebook. He didn’t want his wife to see.

I’m not a slut.

Then at some point we figured out how we could “date.” His wife was away and he really missed her. He wanted me to come with him to the art party. Because he had won some award. He wanted me to come with him to the party, but he didn’t want it to look like we were dating, so the creepy nerd had to chaperone us all the time. But then we were always dump him and spend time together. We used to have a good time.

So we went to the party, smoked a joint, and just talked and talked. I loved being his date. I am not a slut, but I am an exhibitionist. It’s true.

So I loved it, I had a great time. So we decided we were going to ditch creepy guy and go somewhere. He suggested some place down near the river, but I said oh no, that’s not a good idea. He realized that wasn’t a good idea either, so then he came up with the idea to go to the Hipster Bar, because they had karaoke there. So we go there and he wanted me to sing. And I didn’t want to say no to him. So he picked out a song, a Frank Sinatra song, and I went and put my name in with the DJ. Yeah.

I asked the DJ how many were ahead of me, and there were like 50. I thought oh good, I’m off the hook for this week. But I’ll do it next week and have a whole week to practice.

So, the next week, there I was, singing. Then he came. He just walked right up to me, took my hand, led me off the stage, and that was it. I was his forever. As he said so memorably, I was the first member of his cult group.

He took me outside and I just went with him. He just kept talking to me. I never went back in. We talked for about an hour, until Queen George and Trudy wanted to go, but I just kept talking to him.

But what happened was, this young girl – she just came up and asked him for a light. She didn’t have to ask him, she could have asked anyone. She could have asked Queen George – that would have been the correct thing to do. We might have even let her in the club. She should have introduced herself to Queen George, not throw herself at him.

Three women are talking to a hot guy, and this 21 year old slut walks up, pussy lips open, and throws herself at him.


He ignored her. He gave her the light and then kept talking to me. Then, because Queen George was saying let’s go, he started talking to her about some crazy thing.

That slut kept coming back! Then we had to go, and I thought to myself, that slut is going to be trouble. So I better keep a close watch on her. So I gave her my card and told her to friend me on Facebook which she promptly did within the next five minutes. I left.



Two days later, he called me. I went and picked him up and we went to the Hipster Bar again. I don’t remember what we did that night. The following week I went and got him and went to a party at the Wigger’s. Queen George had already decided she didn’t like him. She had called the DJ, on his personal cell phone, because she had his number – she is Queen George after all – and she booked a time for me to sing – but not him. I didn’t really understand what she was doing at the time, I didn’t even know she had the power to do that.

Meanwhile, that fucking slut had already fucked him.

I’ve never known what to do, because I’ve seen the rise of sluttery since I was a teenager, and it always seems like, well, the ones that slut it up get the guys. Yeah, so, maybe I should slut it up. But the sluttiest thing I could think to do at the time was to get dressed up and sing a slightly inappropriate song while looking directly at him.

And I knew that slut was fucking him. Then he told me how she jumped on him and fucked him without a condom. I was really jealous.

To Be Continued

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One comment on “Whisperer’s Tale

  1. Hipster Racist
    June 12, 2014

    Reblogged this on Hipster Racist and commented:

    Silly girl forgot her password.


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