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A depressed woman goes to extreme measures to find meaning through life, or a past life.

Submitted:Mar 18, 2014    Reads: 275    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

I always thought psychics were bullshit. In fact I still think they're bullshit, but I do have a new found respect for them, or at least for the one that showed me the fantastic tales from my supposed "past life." Let me explain, I am a twenty-three year old squash of a girl. I'm not what one would necessarily dub "fat" or "globby" or even "obese," however I'm not a skinny little piece of sex either. My arms have a bit of hang to them, like thick sails jiggling in the wind when I raise my arms. I like to eat pizza, okay, it's no secret. Let's just say I'm a pity-fuck, and move on. I always thought I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to be an hourglass with an ass that looked like it always had honey on it. I wanted to be Catwoman. I wanted to be wanted. It's funny though, because no one did, and because of this I was planning to drink a lot of wine, masturbate on my couch, and then overdose on some pills or something. Didn't matter what I took -- I had tons of leftover pills that I never threw out after my mom died. If it was a drug, she had it, and I was going to take all of them, then they'd be sorry -- all the preppy little sex machines at Attlon High that made my four years of high school a living hell. I could fill libraries with the stories of what they did to me, but that's for another time. Anyway, being the depressed, emotionless, chubby atheist that I am, the idea of killing myself didn't make me too sad. It'd just be like taking a long nap. A forever nap. I'd always toyed with the idea. I'd be in the cheap seats at mega concerts or baseball stadiums, and I'd stare down over the rails, just thinking -- thinking what it would be like to just lean over a little further on to the other side of eternity. "Hell I bet I could make the news," I'd think to myself. "A troubled young college graduate with a creative writing degree dying wouldn't really upset anyone. I mean after they clean my broken corpse off the stage, there will be another show here in a few days. It'll be like it never occurred." I never jumped, obviously, and now I'm glad I didn't.
As my date with death rapidly approached on my calendar, I began to have second thoughts, call me a chicken, because honestly, I am one. I started to worry that I was going to kill myself right before something amazing happened -- I'd get published, or I'd meet a guy, or I'd magically lose weight -- none of this was going to happen, as I didn't know how to write like me, I had no voice, and I was too lazy to lose weight, and men never approached me. Why should they have? I was revolting, not on the outside, like I imagined, but on the inside. I was all death and stuff, all the time. To summarize, I kept making up excuses. I decided to call a psychic, even though I knew they were all cons and magicians, swindlers and cheats. I just wanted to make sure nothing amazing in the near future was going to occur, so I got online, and found her, the craziest, most psychedellic, odd-looking lady I'd ever seen. She came to my pig sty of a house and changed my life that day.
She didn't knock on the door because she said she didn't believe in hitting anything, so instead she just waited outside staring in my window till I noticed her. Just picture a gypsie psychic, staring in your window. It was creepy and I was pissed off. I almost told her to leave, but then I realized this is what I wanted. If there was a real deal, she was it. I guided her through my clutter and led her to the couch that I was going to masturbate on -- well the couch that I do masturbate on, I should say. Immediately when she sat, she smiled and said, "Oh, I sense that much pleasure has been experienced here." I was almost amazed, but anyone could guess that couches have been masturbated upon, I mean what else the fuck are they used for? She could say that about anywhere in the house. Her smile disappeared and she added, "Pleasure, yes, but not a good kind of pleasure. The kind of pleasure that is nothing but an escape, and not an addition to an already happy life-force." Again, my messy hamster cage that I lived in could tell anyone that I was depressed. "You're going to have to do better than that bitch," I thought to myself. Annoyed, I said, "Look, drop the parlor tricks. Deduction is fun, but I need to know if anything extremely positive is going to happen to me soon." She smiled passionately again, "You have so much history to you. I sense a wonderful juxtaposition of your current life with your past life. I can't quite put my finger on who you were, because only you can do that, but I know you need enlightenment. It will fix you." I was taken back by this, "Well unless you have the magical fix me pills, I'm not interested." Her gaze caught mine. "What about a magical fix me drink?" She had my interest piqued.
She went to her car and returned with a bag full of supplies, and then started boiling things in my kitchen. She had plants in the water that I really knew nothing about and didn't care to. "Ayahuasca will change everything," she told me in complete confidence, "after you drink, you will meet your guide, and it will show you great things. It will terrify you. You will confront everything, you will learn everything. Are you ready?" In one ear and out the other, I didn't give a shit at this point. "Just give me the damn juice." -- These were my last words of ignorance. She poured me a cup, and I let it cool for a few minutes while I sat on the palate of blankets and pillows she had prepared for me on the living room floor. It was now time. I put the cup to my chapped lips and tilted my head back. I laid down and passed out within minutes.
I was in a swirling jungle. I saw great monuments crafted by the ancient Aztecs. What the fuck was happening? A man in a business suit with a fox for a head approached me. "Speak with Jaguar at once!" he commanded. He then took his erection out of his suit pants and began to stroke it as he walked away. I was afraid. I ran. I ran until my head throbbed like the head of fox man's ever-swelling cock. My lungs felt like burlap bags of dust, I could run no more. That's when Jaguar stepped out from behind a mossy tree. Her tail swung gracefully, and her voice was beautiful. "You're the way you are because you have been who you are in your dreams." What the hell did she mean? I was speechless, too afraid to make a noise. "Follow me, beautiful girl." No one had ever seen me naked and thought, "beautiful" before. She walked and I followed for what seemed like days. We never rested, and we never spoke. It was constantly bright, so I had no knowledge of time. We eventually came to a portal, only it didn't look like a portal. It was a giant head with an open mouth. Jaguar looked right through me, "Enter, and experience." I built up the courage to make a peep, "Ex-experience what?" Jaguar suddenly looked more feminine than before. "Experience you." I was hesitant. Who wouldn't be when considering jumping down a fat head's mouth? He had no teeth, but for some reason that only made him more horrifying. "Fuck it," I said and I sat on his tongue. The tongue then rolled me into a human bolus, and sucked me down the fat man's throat. I blacked out.
Opening my eyes, I find things to be blurry. I hear someone stumbling in the next room. I feel different. I'm on a bed but I can't tell what it looks like. I feel, light, refreshed, and intelligent. I feel excited. Most importantly, I feel happy. I feel naked. My vision begins to clear up and I start to realize something. I am perfect. I am the best I can be. I lie sexily with an arched back on a Victorian bed in a room with lacy drapes, beautiful chairs -- everything looks as it's from the 1800s. I never want to leave. This is what I want to be. I feel the cool air on my pure milky skin and goose bumps form all over my nude body. I'm shaved closer than possible. My lips are thick, my breasts are heavy, and my ass fits right in the perfect range of curved but not too curved. My belly button is the cutest thing I've ever seen, and my eyes are like brown planets with minds of their own. My rib cage is tight and warm, I put my fingers lightly on it and I feel life pulsing through the new me. The door opens and a beautiful warrior with a light stubble walks in. He takes his chainmail and sword off and throws it on the floor. His body is like a sculpture chiseled by Michaelangelo himself. We don't say a word, but we just smile at each other. He crawls onto the bed, keeping eye contact with me. He puts his hands on my waist, his touching making my skin feel even more alive and vibrant. He rubs my hips and pushes them down to the mattress. He is powerful, but soft. His hands make his way up my torso. Instead of touching my perfect, begging breasts, he moves around them and caresses my face. His penis stands erect, centimeters away from drooly vagina. He does not insert yet. He leans forward to kiss me, and our wet lips meet, slurring across each other's faces. The tip of his penis touches my vagina lightly and sweetly. His hands are softer than angel's wings, and they rub my breasts. Our breathing gets heavy. My vagina has leaked a puddle on the bed before he's even inside. He leans further towards me, and his pulsating penis slides into me. Our eyes lock and he holds my body with firm hands. I claw his back and pull his hair. He lightly moves back and forth inside of me. I moan like a virgin. I grab his skin and roll him over, I sit on his penis, engulfing it completely. I slide back and forth while screaming without volume control. He closes his eyes and moans with me. He starts to pump me up and down, then removes his penis and rubs it against my thigh. We're lying side to side now, he caresses my body, puts his penis back in, and continues to fuck me. His penis feels even bigger the second time he put it in. He starts to pump faster, and we cry together in unbelievable pleasure. He grips me tightly for six slow, intense pumps, and then he lets go. He wiggles his penis out. I feel his warm semen leaking from my vagina, and it sticks to the sides of my thighs. We interlock hands and press our torsos to one another's. We lie there until we fall asleep.
I awake on the bed, naked and in love with what happened the previous night. Who was he? I am surprised to find that he had left. I have to find him. I get up and open one of the wardrobes to find a beautiful collection of dresses and other clothes, clothes of all types. A brown, tight, form-fitting leather suit catches my eye. I slip it on. It feels abnormally light, like I'm still naked actually. The leather is sturdy, with pockets around the waist. I open a cabinet full of weapons and gadgets, like those of a military spy -- blades of all sorts, some curved with straps, perhaps to fit to the body, tiny pistols that could fit in sleeves, compasses, bows, arrows, and one knife in particular that is a transparent green color with what looked like a magical being living inside of it. Whoever had put these here was extremely dangerous, and I am deciding not to touch them or anything else here. I really like the leather clothing -- I had never worn anything like it, but I don't want to steal from someone who owns the sorts of weapons that I just saw, so I put my clothes back in the wardrobe. I need to figure out what's going on, and I need to go buy some clothes for myself. I don't even mind going out naked now; with a body like this I can do anything. I creak open the door, peeking out cautiously. I stick my foot out onto the cold, stone floor and slip into the master room. Whoever owns this place is moderately wealthy, and it's definitely the 1800s. Everything screams Victorian Era. A young woman in a maid's outfit, carrying a vase, walks down the hall and into the main room. When she sees me she covers her mouth with one hand. "Mrs. Senna, where are your garments?" she asks, shocked. I reply, "How the fuck do you know my name?" The maid explains to me that she works for me and that my guest left a note for me on the kitchen table. "I own this house? You work for me?" "Yes and yes," she says. Holy shit. I walk into the kitchen to find the note on the table. It reads, "Let us meet again tonight in the Ferover district near the bell tower. I have something to show you." I smile and for a second I feel the energy of sexual excitement charge through my body. My nipples harden in the cool air. I bite my lip. My maid just fucking stares at me like I'm some slut. She asks, "Are you going to meet this fellow again tonight?" I look at her. I walk up to her and take her hands. I peer into her eyes like I'm going to fuck her mind blank. "Yes, indeed I am. And I'm going to make love to him until we feel the dew of morning upon our bodies." I finally get to talk like I've always wanted to. I get to use frases like "dew of morning upon our bodies," I love it. She quivers and turns away from me. No one can resist me. No man, or woman. My sweet little maid will learn this soon enough though. I grab an apple and walk on my toes by her as I bite into the apple. Juice leaks from the apple onto my chin. I wipe it off with the drapery and enter my room. I go to the cabinet with the weapons and I strap the form fitting knives on my sides and on the dimples above my adorable ass. I look back and jiggle my ass with my hand. It bounces. Holy fuck, my ass bounces. I put the leather clothing on, put a few miscellaneous gadgets in my pockets, and grab the knife with the green soul in it. I feel like a vigilante. And that's when I notice the mirror in the corner. My face is almost exactly the same as it was in reality, back in depressed Senna mode in America. It just looks happier, and that's when I realize that I was even beautiful before I came here. The only thing different about my hair is that it's short and messy instead of long and tangled. I like it. I find makeup in the drawer by the mirror. Black lipstick and red eye liner. I smear the black lipstick on and I wipe the red eye liner all around my eyes. I look evil and beautiful at the same time, the fuckable freak. If this is who I was in a past life, then I was the most bad ass person to ever live, and I don't ever want to leave this life. My addiction to sex has never felt as strong as it does now. Before I could just masturbate a few times a day and be fine. But now I need to fuck people, and fuck people up. I don't know why but I want to fucking kill someone. All of these weapons and gadgets make me feel so empowered, but I'm not a murderer, so I'll have to find someone who is, and then I'm going to fucking kill them.
I walk out my front door into the sunlight. The city bustles with people moving about from street vendor to street vendor. I make my way through the crowd. People look at me in horror. "There is Evil...!" screams one woman. Do I have a reputation or something? "You bitch!" blurts a man as he charges at me with a knife. I instinctively grab his hand with the knife and put him in an arm bar. He shouts and panics. I don't know how I'm doing this. I throw his knife on the ground and when guards come running I drop him and head for a tall building. I jump on some stacked apple crates and then up to a window, I slide the window up and run through the house -- the house women scream in fear. I crash through the opposite window and I land on my face on the stone street. A barbarian of a man stomps my head and blood starts drooling from my face onto the stone. I grab his leg and lean into it, toppling him to the ground. I sit on his waist as I remove my soul dagger. I push it to his neck and snarl. The guards approach at full force, yelling obscenities and carrying swords and spears. I stand up in a rage and they all become paralyzed with fear. "Jesus Christ! The Evil is among us! Save us!" I feel my blood boiling and I look down to see that jungle cat claws are coming through my finger tips. I pounce on one of the guards and tears his face off, blood spewing everywhere, another guard swings at me and I kick the sword out of his hand with such force that it stabs his partner in the chest. I just became afraid of the power I wield. I leap off the mutilated guard and onto a builiding which I scale with extreme ease. I am a monster. I speed back to my home and enter through the back door. I can't go out dressed like that during the day ever again. That's for night time only now. I wash the make up off and take my leather clothing off. I leave the knives strapped to my body for now and I put on one of the elegant dresses with striped leggings. Maybe this will be more fitting for my daytime activities.
Later that day I find myself strolling by a lake, trying to figure out what's going on. I want to go meet Mr. Mystery again, but that's not for a few hours. Untill that time comes, I'll just make my way around the city and talk to everyone that I can. This world is amazing. I stroll by the crime scene I caused just to see how things are. A woman in tears kneels by her dead husband's body. I can't do that to someone ever again. No matter how much I like the feeling of killing, I'll never kill someone I don't have to. I have to fix this. But how? I'm good at sex and killing, and I think only one of those would be appropriate right now. Tonight, she must perish by my blade. I have to put the blubbering widow out of her misery. I follow the woman home to see where she lives, a quaint little town house. She has no kids -- I really lucked out there, no one else to miss her. I'll kill her tonight in her sleep, so she never sees it coming. It's the only way to save her.
The night is upon me, and I must go to the bell tower at once. I put on my Evil clothes and make up -- the only way I'm interested in this guy is if he can handle me for who I really am. I stick to the tops of buildings and hide in the shadows as I make my way to the bell tower. Once I arrive, I scale the tower and wait in the bell room, looking down at the street, hoping to find my lover. I wait an hour, and he never shows. If this asshole is playing me, I will find him and end his pathetic life. I feel a tap on the shoulder, and I immediately turn around with my soul dagger drawn. A hooded figure casually leans against one of the columns. I would recognize those eyes if they were gouged out. Those penetrating orbs of aqua blue make me so wet I could fill a coffee cup and then some. I put my dagger away. "What did you want to show to me?" I say with a glint of sarcasm as I stand up and place my hand on my hip. "This way," he says as he jumps out of the tower. I crawl with increasing velocity after him across the top of the city. My claws naturally come back out and give me an edge on him as I can use them to my advantage for climbing. I feel like a jaguar racing through the jungle. I'm now beside him, about to pass, but I don't. I look at him but his eyes are straight forward. He's determined. Little does he know I'm holding back more than even I know. He climbs up into an industrial building. We climb along copper pipes and onto a crumbly ledge where we look down onto a group of children, slaving away cutting metal and what not. Mr. Mystery looks at me. "This is the picture of how evil humanity really is. Laziness and greed produced this, and we're going to put an end to this." As long as he fucks me again after this, I don't give a shit what we do. I came for nearly an hour straight last night, and I would kill the kids if that's what he wanted. "Where are their bosses?" I ask with a voice dripping in honey. "See that vent?" he points to an air duct. "Right there." "Give me five minutes." I say. I climb over to the vent and drop down into an office of six men drinking at a table. "Guards!!" shouts one of the men. Mr. Mystery drops down after me. Guards rush in. I unsheathe my knife and stab the first guard through the jaw. I run on walls, I choke with my legs and vagina, I gouge eyes, I cut tendons, I bite jugulars. I don't know how I learned to do all this, but it just feels natural, like I'm supposed to be doing it. Mystery fights with steel wrapped around his knuckles, and a magic spell that I'll have to get him to teach me that explodes blood vessels in people, and can stop hearts. He's a badass, and I'm more turned on than ever, after everyone is dead we only have a few scrapes and cuts, and we tell the kids they don't have to work anymore, and we give them the keys to the food. We saved them.
"I think it's about time we learned each other's names." I say. "Well Senna I think that takes all the fun out of it." he retorts. I cry, "Of course you know me already. Are we married or something?" "God no, we're partners. We have been for years. Why have you been acting so weird lately?" "I don't know. It's kind of a long ass story that I don't need to bore you with. I'll tell you all about it later if -- OH SHIT I forgot!" "What?!" "I need to go kill somebody, can you meet me back at my place?" Mystery steps in close. "You know I'll be there Senna. Evil you." I flash him a glossy smile and put his hand between my legs. His pupils dilate a mile in diameter. Then I disappear into the night. I return to the mourning widow's home, where she sleeps soundly at 1:00 a.m. I slip in through a window and sneak into her bedroom. I see pictures of her belated husband lying all around her. I put my knife against her throat I push in and blood seeps up through her squishy neck...

I opened my eyes to see Mrs. Gypsie Psychic wiping vomit off my face. "You seem to have experienced much!" She cried excitedly. I howl, "NO!! NO!! I have to go back! I was perfect there! And here I'm everything but that!" The gypsie psychic took my hands in hers, she looked me in the eye with the purest of intentions, and said to me, "Senna, my dear, fucking deal with it." I glare at her. "I need more ayahuasca." Gypsie smiled, "We can arrange that, my love. When do you want to go back?" I wipe a tear from my face. "Every day."


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