New Fiction: ‘Killing for Company’ by Vincent Clasper
This is the first story to feature in our soon-to-be critically lauded blogzine, where Clinicality Press publish and promote new works of fiction and beyond. In time, there may be a second anthology, but these things take time and money, and we’re short on both. For now, we’re doing the digital thing.
Killing for Company
It started out through boredom. Single, lonely, stuck at home, nothing to do. An evening spent with a four-pack, idling away the hours on-line. Only so much sport and music a guy can take. He’d always avoided the porn on the ‘net, said it was for sad losers who couldn’t get laid. But he’d been without a partner for some weeks now, and the urge to shoot his load was becoming too much to bear. He Googled a few random search terms:
Lesbian lick blonde
Brunette cum sprays
Jenna Jameson anal
Most of the results were disappointing: small low-res pics, or otherwise simply fronts for pay-sites and links pages that led to more links pages – all the promise, but nothing delivered. A couple of sites brought up pages of thumbnails, though, and he flicked through a handful of screens, checking out some DVDA action of some busty tan-lined blondes. Imagining himself in the place of one of the guys, he flipped his cock free of his boxers and tossed until he creamed onto the carpet.
It wasn’t long before it became a habit, and it wasn’t long before he started thinking and seeing things differently. He’d see girls in the MPEGS and JPEGS that began to clutter his hard drive who reminded him of girls he knew or had known from work or college or even school. He’d fantasize that the girls in the pictures and videos were the girls he knew and would knock a mix out with these thoughts in his head.
He started to diversify and became interested in voyeur sites, candid sites. He became obsessed. His netlife became his reality: at work, in the street, the supermarket, he’d be on he lookout for downblouse shots and nipple slips. He even removed a screw from the handle of the bathroom door and drilled through so he could catch a glimpse of his lodger in the bath or shower. Women became objects: he’d find himself engaged in a perfectly normal conversation and imagine different scenarios. In the pub, he visualised the barmaid in a short skirt, exposing her bare ass as she reached over the table to collect empty glasses, or taking the hot blonde from accounts in the stationery cupboard. He’d ponder what the women and girls he saw in the street, the shop, the pub, and at work looked like naked, imagined their nipples and their beavers.
And he was never bored again.
‘Killing for Company’ is taken from Vincent Clasper’s forthcoming booklet Kicks, to be published by Clinicality Press in October.