Japanese Panty Man



Japanese Panty Man

Japanese Panty Man was one of my favorite customers. He’s an older Japanese man--probably in his 50’s. He comes in at least a couple of times a month. All the girls love doing shows for him. He’s an absolute gentlemen, not to mention the fact that he drops around $200.00 each visit. I am pretty lucky to get him when I’m working. He seems to really like me for some reason. The first time I saw him, I was wearing a long blonde wig with a stocking cap. After about 10 minutes into the show, he asked if I would take it off. I was horrified due to the fact that I hadn’t washed my hair for a couple of days and my hair had been roasting under a wig cap, a wig, and a hat for nearly six hours. Needless to say, I tried everything to keep the hat on, but he wouldn’t go for it. He told me he didn’t care what I looked like--he wanted me natural. So, I reluctantly took it off. I caught my reflection in the glass. My hair was pure grease. It was plastered on one side, while the other side stuck up like a broom. I ran both hands through my hair, trying to even it up a bit. As I looked on in horror, he smiled with delight. “Much better,” he said . . . and he meant it. After that first show, he became my favorite customer.

One day, I was wearing a school girl outfit--extra short plaid skirt, white blouse sans bra, white knee-high socks, and black Mary Janes. I wore my hair long, pulled back on one side with a tortoise shell barrette. I was lying on my stomach in the booth, legs waving back in forth in the air, my head propped on one arm, reading a book. Japanese Panty Man came around the corner and immediately ducked into my booth. I closed the booth door to the dressing room and lowered the shade to the hallway. He immediately tipped me $40.00 and put several $20.00 bills into the bill acceptor. His shade began to rise. He was dressed casually, but nicely. Japanese Panty Man has a laid back demeanor. He is very polite, slightly shy. We exchanged pleasantries, as always, and then he got down to business.

“What panties do you have on?” he asked.

“I’m wearing my full bottom, white cotton panties for you today,” I said, giving him a quick flash of white.

He smiled and shifted his weight in admiration.

“Are those the same panties you had on before work?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I’ve had them on all day.”

He swallowed hard.

“What other panties do you have with you?”

“I have a whole bag full in my locker. Do you want me to get them?”

“Yes, go get them,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement.

I jumped out of the booth, grabbed the bag out of my locker, and jumped back in. I dumped out the contents in the center of my booth. There were pink lacy panties, several styles of black g-strings, jewel tone string bikini bottoms, et. al.

He stood there admiring the pile of panties. I held several pair up for him. He carefully looked at each pair.

“Can you put on a couple of other pairs under the white cotton ones?” he asked.

“Of course, which ones would you like?”

He pointed to one of the black g-strings and the pink lacy pair. I picked out the ones he requested and pushed the rest to the corner of the booth. All the while, his time was ticking away. He doesn’t care, though. Money is not a factor. Normally, I do not undress until we are 30 minutes into the show. He wants me to take my time.

I jumped back out of the booth real quick. I slid off my panties, put on the black g-string, and then the pink lacy pair. I put my white cotton panties over the two pair and jumped back into the booth.

I picked up a strawberry lollipop that one of the girls had given me earlier. I slowly unwrapped the sucker, smiling at him. I brought it to my mouth and gave it a couple of nice licks.

“Mmmm . . . yummy, strawberry,” I said, teasing him.

He smiled.

I stood up and leaned back against the wall, raising my skirt just a little so he could see the crotch of my panties. His lips formed an O and his eyes softened. I lowered the skirt. I ran my fingers over by breasts until my nipples were noticeably erect through my thin white blouse. I undid a couple buttons and slipped a hand inside and started caressing myself.

He touched his nipples too, pinching them a little through his shirt.

I licked the lollipop slowly, looking at him.

He bit down on his lip.

I turned around and placed my hands against the wall, spreading my legs. I leaned forward ever so slightly so he could just catch a glimpse of the roundness of my ass peeking out from my skirt. I looked back at him and saw my panties exposed in the reflection. I turned around and slid down the back of the wall until I was in a squatting position with my legs spread. My skirt just covering between my legs. I ran my hand underneath my skirt, touching myself through my panties. I could feel myself getting turned on. I liked feeling naughty for him. My hand moved from under my skirt and ran down the length of my leg.

“Would you like me to remove my shoes? “ I asked.

“Yes, please."

I reached over and undid the buckles of my Mary Janes and kicked them off to the corner of the booth. I ran a finger up my knee high sock.

“How about these. Are you ready for them to come off, too?”

“Yes, take them off,” he whispered.

I started on the left leg, thumbs pulling down each sock slowly, revealing bare legs and delicate feet. I ran my hands over my legs enjoying how soft and silky they felt, knowing how much he would enjoy feeling them too. I placed my feet on the glass and traced the arches of my feet with my fingertips, pointing my toes. He watched my every move, totally enslaved.

“Do you like feet?” I asked.

“Yes, very sexy.”

“Do you like the idea of my bare feet caressing your silky cock?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to feel your hard cock sliding between the arches of my feet . . . stroking you until you cum all over them.”

“Yes, I would like that a lot,” he said, swallowing hard.

He reached down and touched himself. His cock looked big and hard through his jeans. I got on all fours, crawling to the glass like a cat. I started working the lollipop in my mouth like it was his cock. I moved my face close to the glass and told him I wanted to suck him. He closed his eyes and started to undo the buckle on his belt. It was the thick leather type and it turned me on seeing him so desperate to get it undone. He then proceeded to undo the top button of his jeans. I waited for him to proceed, but he stopped there. Once again focusing on me.

“Anything else you would like to come off," I purred.

I have learned to ask before taking an article of clothing off. If I take something off too soon, he shakes his head and smiles, saying, “Not yet, not yet.”

So when I asked, I was not surprised when he said, “Not yet, not yet.”

So I proceeded with flashing him my panties.

I laid on my back, resting on my elbows. I let me legs fall apart to each side. The crotch of my panties were visible under my skirt. I ran my lollipop along the inside of my thigh until it reached the outer edge of the crouch of my underwear. I slipped the lollipop underneath the fabric and moved it around. It felt hard and sticky on my bare pussy. I fantasized about him licking the sweet sticky mess off me. He clutched his cock through his jeans again, He began unzipping his jeans--slowly. He slipped one hand inside and started rubbing himself. His eyes closed--his lips pursed.

His eyes finally opened under heavy lids. His mouth relaxed, making me want to kiss him. I brought the lollipop to my mouth and tasted myself. I told him it tasted good and he told me he wished he could try it.

“Take off your top,” he said.

I unbuttoned the front of my blouse very slowly and opened it just a little.

“Can I see your breasts?”

“Mai oui,” I said, taking it off.

I cupped my small bare breasts in my hands.

“They feel nice,” I teased.

“Closer,” he said.

I moved very close to the glass and dropped my hands revealing them to him. The O formed again on his lips and he gently pulled his hard cock out. It was very nice--average size, but with an enormous head. He started masturbating.

“What would you like for me to take off next?”

“Leave on your skirt, but tease me with your underwear a little.”

I turned over on all fours with my ass facing him. I reached around and lifted the back of my skirt. In the reflection, I could see the strip of white fabric stretched taunt between my legs. I gave my ass a nice slap. The sound reverberated loudly. I enjoyed the nice sting it left behind. I pulled on my panties so he could see the form of my lips through the fabric. His eyes closed as he stroked his cock.

I turned over and laid on my back. I spread my legs wide and reached my hand between them and started rubbing myself through my panties. Again, I pulled my panties taunt until the sides of my lips were visible. He let out a long sigh and squeezed his cock, pushing a small bubble of pre-cum out. I licked my lollipop pretending I was tasting him.

“I wish I could taste you," I said. My tongue continued licking.

He reached down and tasted himself . . . teasing me now.

“Would you like me to take off a pair of my panties?”

“Yes, just the first pair.”

I stood up and moved closer to the window. I reached under my skirt and pulled the white cotton panties down to my ankles. I stepped out of them and brought them to my face, inhaling deeply.

“Mmm . . . they smell like me.”

I offered the panties to him through the window, holding them up so he could get a good look.

“I wish you could smell them--they smell wonderful,” I said

He bit down hard on his lip and told me he wanted those panties after the show.

Now, my pink lace panties were on top. The lace was very thin and delicate. There were pink satin ribbons on each side which tied at the hip. I sat down on the back of my heels and picked up my idle vibrator which was in the other corner of my booth. I kneeled, brought the vibrator to my mouth and simulated oral sex on it, moving it in and out of my mouth until it was nice and wet. Our eyes were locked and I noticed our movements were in sync--the movements of my mouth on the vibrator and the movement of his hand on his cock. I sensed he was imagining my mouth moving up and down his shaft. I gave the vibrator one last lick and then I brought it under my skirt, teasing him. I turned the vibrator on and moved it across my pussy, over my panties. I relaxed, enjoying the wonderful vibration it offered. I closed my eyes, arched my back, and braced myself with one hand, while the other worked the vibrator over my panties. He started getting excited and asked if I could take the second pair of panties off.

“Of course,” I said.

I laid down on my back and lifted my hips, while slipping the panties off. I sat up, pulling them all the way down to my ankles, kicking them into the corner. I was now just wearing my skirt and the black g-string underneath. I laid back down and spread my legs. The g-string did not cover much. The pink of my lips and ass were quite visible. I reached down between my legs with the vibrator and started masturbating through my g-string--wetness spreading to where he could see it. I pressed the vibrator inside a little through my panties, wetting them. He bit down on his lip again and made a thrusting motion toward me. I pulled the tip of the vibrator out and brought it to my mouth.

“Can I take the last pair off?" I pleaded.

He nodded.

He told me to take the skirt off, too. He wanted me totally naked now. I reached behind and undid the zipper of my skirt, letting it fall to the ground and pulled the g-string down to my ankles. I stood before him totally nude. My small breasts and bald pussy staring back at him, looking young and innocent. I took the lollipop from out of my mouth and laid down. I ran the lollipop up the inside of my thigh, over my pussy, and then up to my mouth to taste. Japanese Panty Man started stroking his cock harder. I took the lollipop and traced the opening of my pussy. By this time, the lollipop was much smaller and it slipped inside me quite easily. I rolled my hips working the lollipop inside. I brought it out and took it in my mouth again to taste it once more. I licked it until there wasn’t much left beside the stick, which I tossed to the side.

I picked up the vibrator again, moving it back and forth against my clit.

“I want to see you come,” he whispered.

I told him I wouldn’t have any trouble because I was so turned on.

[Note: Sometimes at work I have certain fantasies I think about that guarantee an orgasm. These fantasies involve my boyfriend and I having a threesome with another guy.]

I started thinking about the fantasy. I could feel the energy building in my lower back. Sweat started to form all over my body and I began sticking to the floor of the booth. I closed my eyes, lifting my pelvis off the floor as I came, letting out a huge moan, which even surprised me. I knew I would catch shit about this later from the other girls.

As I came back into my body, I opened my eyes. Japanese Panty Man was standing there staring at me with his mouth opened wide.

I smiled.

“That was incredible watching you,” he said.

“That felt incredible,” I replied.

“Wipe the wetness from your pussy with the panties,” he said. “With the white ones.”

I took the panties and wiped them between my legs until they were damp with my wetness. I brought them to my face and inhaled deeply.

“Mmm . . . they smell like me,” I said again, laughing.

I looked at his time and saw that it was ticking down. It was now approaching 45 minutes in the booth.

“Your time is running out, sweetie. I had a great time with you tonight,” I said.

He opened his wallet and put in several more bills.

“I want to see you do that again," he said, smiling.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, I thought to myself. My body was sore and shaking. I was covered in sweat. I looked like hell. However, my face donned a huge smile.

“Let’s go, baby!” I said, picking up the vibrator.

He started masturbating again and I could tell by his movements that he was going to come soon so I moved as close to the glass as possible. I squatted with my legs spread wide and worked the vibrator inside me, rolling my hips. In response, he moved closer to the glass with his cock pointed towards my pussy. His movements paced mine and we began moving together like we were fucking. He started talking dirty to me.

"How does my cock feel inside you?” he whispered.

“It feels real good, baby . . . you’re gonna make me come,” I purred.

I told him to fuck me harder, that I wanted to feel him come inside me.

The angle that I was working my vibrator, along with our exchange, got me really hot and I knew that I was going to be able to come again.

“I wanna see you come,” I said. “Let’s try to come together.”

We continued going through the motions of fucking each other. He started holding his breath and his face started turning a little red. I knew he was close so I let myself go.

“I’m coming,” I yelled out. “I want you to cum all over my bare pussy right now!”

I barely finished those words when he came. A huge explosion all over the glass. His cock spasmed for several seconds, each contraction pushing more cum out the tip of his cock. His head tilt back; his mouth wide, catching his breath. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. He grabbed a kleenex and wiped the excess cum from the tip of his cock and from the window.

“Excellent,” he said.

“Thank you, that was fun,” I said, smiling.

“I want to buy your panties," he said, pointing to the white pair.

“Sure.”

“Is $50 o.k.?” he said, holding up a wad of cash.

“$50 is great," I said, dressing.

I told him to meet me on the main stage, that I would slip my panties through the tip slot.

“O.K.,” he said.

I jumped out of the booth and put the panties in a small plastic bag and ran onto the main stage, which was empty. He put a dollar into the machine so the clerk up front wouldn’t know what we were up to. I placed my panties in the tip slot and he slipped me the $50. He thanked me very much for the show. I wished him a good evening and then he left as quickly as he came.

It was approaching 12:00 a.m. and I was exhausted. I had been in the booth for one hour and I was in no condition to do any more shows. My body was covered in cold sweat. My hair was greasy and matted and my makeup was running down my face. My spine was sore from moving against the floor of the booth. I actually felt like I had been fucking for an hour. I gathered my things from the booth, packed my bag, and went home to see my boyfriend.






Here's another excerpt from Laundry. Now remember, I wrote 140 pages in 30 days so it's not the best. The goal was quantity, not quality. I'll be linking the full story soon. Don't worry, this is not going to turn into the Laundry blog . . . and yes, the story is full of hot girls, hot boys, and lots of nasty sex. Stay tuned!

Laundry excerpt Part 2

She paused at the top of the steps, staring down at the ominous-looking red cross below. She carefully made her way down the stairs, carrying her laundry basket under one arm and holding the laundry detergent in the other. Her footsteps resonated loudly in the stairwell. When she reached the bottom, she turned around and pushed open the large metal door with her back. It made a low creaking sound as it closed behind her. She walked down the long corridor to the laundry room. As she passed the first door to her right, she noticed that it was ajar. The slit of black gave her an eerie feeling. She walked past the door quickly, making her way to the laundry room.

The room was empty--the washer and the dryer stood idle. There was a pile of abandoned stiff laundry on the table, smelling of old mildew. A shallow puddle of water surrounded the washer. The laundry room had always given her the creeps and she tried to get in and out as quickly as possible. She placed her basket and soap on top of the dryer. She opened the washer and found that someone else's clothes were still in there. She reached inside and pulled out the cold, wet clothes--worn boxers, yellowed socks, frayed towels and placed them into the dryer. She felt strange handling someone else's laundry but at the same time, she didn't want to wait. The people in her building had a tendency to get distracted. She proceeded to put her laundry into the washer, followed by the soap.

She slipped her hand into her front pocket and fished around for the three quarters she had placed there earlier. As she brought her hand out, one of the quarters fell to the ground and rolled towards the corridor. She chased after it, not having anymore change. She took one large step and came down hard on top of the quarter. She bent over to pick it up, catching another glimpse of the black slit across the way. She shuddered and suddenly felt the need to leave.

She quickly made her way back to the washer and placed all three quarters into the slot--her hands shaking. The washer started up, making a low whirring sound. She put her basket and soap on top of the table and ran out of the laundry room. She pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and ran into a hard form.

"Oh, fuck," she screamed, jumping back.

"It's just me," a young man said, trying not to laugh.

It was her neighbor.

"You fucking scared the shit out of me," she said, pushing by him.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh . . . and if your laundry was in the washer, I took it out and put it in the dryer. Sorry, I didn't mean to touch it."

"Wouldn't be the first time you touched my underwear," he said, biting down on his lip.

"Fuck you," she said, running up the stairs.

I Miss My Job

Starting this blog up again and going through my old pics really makes me miss working at Fantasy. My body feels different since I've stopped working there. I almost feel like some kind of vampire deprived of virgin blood. My eyes and skin seem duller. I have less energy. I miss all those orgasms--the ones I had and the ones I gave. (No, I didn't fake) I miss those 18-year-old boys that made me feel so young and I also miss those 80-year-olds that made me feel I was really making a difference in someone's life.








Happy President's Day


“You’re going to listen to what I have to say whether you like it or not--so make it easy on yourself and sit down and shut the fuck up.”

“How the hell did you get in . . .”

“But then again, you can't talk now even if you wanted to,” a woman says, laughing.

She walks towards him, putting both hands on his shoulders, forcing him down into his chair. His mouth moves madly, trying to form words, but nothing comes out except for the sound of dry air, along with a string of drool suspended from the corner of his mouth. He struggles to get up from the chair--the veins in his neck popping, his hands drawn up in fists, but it’s no use; he cannot move.

"I’m sure you've noticed by now that I'm not your typical girl,” she purrs, running her hands over her body; she’s covered in what appears to be a thin layer of nude latex, hugging every curve. The latex covers her face as well, leaving just the impression of two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, which moves eerily as she speaks.

“Well, let’s see . . . where to begin. Let me start off by introducing myself. My name is Isis and I come from . . . hmmm, how can I explain this so you can understand. Well, I come from the future I guess you could say . . . or, should I say a parallel universe? Yes, I know how this all must sound to you, but I guess my appearance, not to mention the state I have put you in, is at least some proof that I am not entirely full of shit. Now you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, Mr. President--what kind of business could I possibly have with you. I mean . . . you being such a distinguished gentlemen and all. To tell you the truth, Mr. President, I was sent here by a group of concerned individuals. They also come from another dimension.

“Unfortunately, we have a lot of ground to cover so I won’t bore you with all the details, but this group--they used to live here on earth. I guess you could call them freedom fighters. They were some of the most intelligent people on the face of the earth and they led the last revolution--the information revolution, trying to educate the people--to wake them up before it was too late. But in the end, it wasn't soon enough and most of them ended up dying. Although, a few managed to make it through ‘the gateway’ before the end of the world.”

The president’s face turns white, as he slips down the back of his chair--his suit wrinkling.

“You look surprised that your world ends. I’m here to inform you, Mr. President, that YOU are the one most responsible for the death of the planet.”

The president shakes his head back and forth wildly, angrily mouthing words; spit flies.

“Now don’t get yourself worked up, Mr. President. You see, where I live now, there is no such thing as hate--only love and compassion. I guess you could call it evolution. I’ve been sent here to give you another chance . . . to give you the opportunity to change history--to make things right.”

The president's brow lifts.

“Yes, I know you’re not quite convinced that what I’m telling you is true. I do know, Mr. President, that you are about to make a decision that will change the course of history. Of course, this decision in itself will not be the fatal blow to mother earth and her inhabitants, but it will cause a chain of events that even I would’ve never thought possible.”

The president relaxes his posture--his eyes soften a little.

“In order to help you make the proper decision, I have brought along a machine to help educate you. Back home, I’m a teacher.”

An uneasy smile spreads across the president’s face as he strains to make out the machine at her feet.

She picks up the machine and sets it on the president’s desk. It resembles a small computer--key board and all. She bends over and picks up what appears to be a virtual reality headset.

“Okay, basically this machine is like a simulator. I put the headset on you and I start the program. Once the program starts, you will end up somewhere else. It will feel like you are really there. You will be able to move, talk, hear, smell, taste, etc. I will be your guide on your journey. You will be able to see me and talk with me, but no one else will be able to see or hear you. Think of it like the internet-- only 3-D. Anything you want to experience is waiting at your fingertips. One last thing you should know. Time is practically suspended during the simulation. What feels like a day is only minutes in reality.”

The president’s smile begins to shrink.

“There is no more time to explain things. We must proceed.”

She turns around and places the headset on the president’s head. He panics a little and tries with all his might to get out from under it, but only manages to break out in a sweat. Isis leans over the keyboard--her nails clicking loudly against the keys. The president looks at the monitor and makes out the word, “DEATH.” He closes his eyes as she hits the enter key.

A high pitched sound fills his ears and he can sense the absence of light through his closed lids. He feels as if the air is being sucked away from his body. A “rush” feeling overcomes him and he passes out for what seems like seconds. When he comes to, he opens his eyes, squinting under daylight.

He sits up and looks around, finding himself in a lush green meadow. A warm breeze passes over him, bending the long blades of grass. He inhales deeply, taking in the smell of moist earth.

“It’s so real, isn’t it?”

The president jumps back, forgetting he’s not alone.

“Where the fuck did you take me?”

“It doesn’t really matter where we’re at. What’s important is what you’re going to learn here. Come on, follow me. We don’t have much time.”

The president stands up and follows her. They walk for a couple of miles in silence until they come upon a village filled with small grass huts.

“They can’t see us?"

“No, and they can’t hear anything we say.”

“So what am I suppose to learn here? They seem like they’re living happy lives.”

“Yes, they are, aren’t they?”

Her last words seem to summon an awful sound--the roar of plane engines fills the air. The villagers run panicked, scooping up their children. As the planes fly overhead, several bombs fall from the sky, flashing silver in the light. An enormous explosion rips through the air and an angry red ball of fire engulfs the village. Thick black smoke rolls off the flames and surrounds them. The smell of death is everywhere.

“I can’t see you, Isis,” the president says, choking.

The president draws in a deep breath, searching for air. His nostrils fill with hot smoke, smelling of burnt flesh. Off in the distance, he hears cries--the sound of a woman crying over the loss of her child/the sound of a child crying over the loss of her parents.

"I can't breathe, Isis, I can't breath . . . help me, please . . ."

There is no response, only silence.

The president, overcome by heat and smoke, falls to his knees, slumps forward and collapses to the ground.

All is black.

In the blackness, the president starts to regain consciousness. He hears voices somewhere off in the distance and strains to open his eyes. He finds that he is lying in a hospital bed all alone. He sits up and scans the room, wondering if this is still part of the simulation.

"Isis," he whispers. "Are you there?"

There is no response. The president gets out of bed and makes his way down the long corridor towards the voices.

The president stops in front of a room--the door is ajar and he sees there are people inside.

"I was wondering when you would show up," Isis said, smiling.

She was standing next to an examining table which was surrounded by several people, appearing to be doctors and nurses. There was a sense of urgency in the air as they worked. They appeared to be trying to save someone's life.

"What's going on?" asked the president.

"They're trying to save her, but it doesn't look good. Her little body has suffered a terrible blow."

"What happened?"

"Some bulldozers tore through some homes this morning--they didn't even wait for people to get out--many died in their beds asleep. Some of the bodies are still burried in the rubble. The rooms here are filled now . . . some with survivors, but many more with the dying and dead. And down the hall . . .there are horrific sights to behold in those rooms."

Isis' voice cracks. "Come, follow me. This is something that you need to see."

"What about the little girl?"

"They weren't able to save her. She's dead now, along with the rest of her family."

The president follows Isis to a room at the end of the corridor. She opens the door and motions for him to step inside. The room contains several examining tables. There are no bodies on the tables--just piles and lumps of what looks like red mush here and there. No one else is in the room.

"Move closer," she says.

The president moves towards the examining table and then stops, his jaw dropping.

"Unimagineable horror, isn't it?" whispers Isis.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

The president places his hands over his mouth and runs for the door. He stops short--his body heaving forward. A spray of vomit splatters across the wall.

"I think you're starting to come around, Mr. President. Ready to go?"

There is no response.

Isis reaches over and turns the light switch off. The room is pitch black.

"I can't see," the president cries out.

"Oh, I'm sorry . . . you're ready to see now."

Isis flips the switch back on again. The lights come on, but they're no longer in the hospital room, but appear to be in some sort of bunker.

"What the hell are we doing here?"

"Because you gave the orders, Mr. President."

"What are you talking about? I didn't give any orders."

"I think, Mr. President, that you better sit down. This is going to be quite a shock to you."

The president sits down—his face expressionless. Isis points a remote control towards a row of t.v. monitors facing the president. In one press of a button, all monitors turn on, each one showing a different part of the world. The images reveal great devastation—smoke, fire, rubble, dead bodies. There doesn’t appear to be a structure left standing and no sign of life is visible.

“What is this . . . what the fuck is going on?”

“Well . . . things got out of hand, I guess you could say. You see, Mr. President, I know that you aren’t all bad. But when one is coming from the viewpoint that he stands on the moral high ground, he sometimes becomes blind and deaf . . . and then, very bad things can happen.”

“Are there any survivors?”

“Mr. President, the people that sent me to administer this simulation gave me direct and specific orders to not give you any further information regarding the end of the world. I hope that what you have seen and what I am telling you is enough to convince you that you need to change your mind about that decision you’re going to be making.”

“But that decision needs to be made . . . you don’t understand.”

“Okay, Mr. President, I see that the first phase of this simulation failed to impact you in the way that it needed to, which is quite unfortunate for you. But you give me no choice. I will have to administer the second phase of the simulation.”

“What do you mean, second phase?”

“Well . . . since you were not moved enough by the pain, death and destruction of others, maybe you will be stirred by the pain and possible death of your family.”

“Leave my family out of this,” he says, standing up.

“I wouldn’t advise taking that tone with me, Mr. President. Unfortunately, you have no choice but to cooperate fully. Otherwise, there will be dire consequences that even you could not conjure up.”

The president sits back down.

“Now . . . unlike what you witnessed during the first phase of the simulation, the pain and/or death that your family may experience is not real, although it will appear real to you. Like the other simulation, you will not be able to interact with anyone. The only thing that you can do is watch and listen. You will not be able to close your eyes and you will not be able to run away. There will be three scenes—one for each member of your family. Do you have any questions before we begin?”

The president sits with his head in his hands, appearing to sob.

“I take that as a no. One last thing. I will not be accompanying you this time. You must witness this alone. As soon as I snap my fingers, I will disappear and the second phase will begin. After the simulation is over, you will wake up in your study. This will be the last time you see me. It is up to you to make the final decision. I trust that you will make the right one.”

With that, she snaps her fingers. All is black and the second phase begins.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."

The president wakes, muttering these words. His body is trembling and streams of sweat run down his back as he sits up in his chair. His eyes are full of tears. He looks around and realizes he's alone in his study. He lays his head on his desk, trying to regain his composure.

"What a fucked up dream," he says under his breath, sitting up in his chair.

He strikes a key on his keyboard and leans back, waiting for his computer to come up. The phone rings, causing him to jump.

"Hello," he answers . . ."Yeah, I'm glad you called," he says, leaning towards the monitor--his jaw drops.

On the monitor the word DEATH? is typed out. The cursor blinks as if waiting for his next move.

"No, no, I'm still here. But, we really need to talk."