Saturday, December 4, 2010

Brenda’s Perils and Quest

I don’t do this very often. As a matter of fact i only did it once here, by uploading some wonderful prose of Nanshakh, the time we still were more or less on the same wavelength. And then there were times when i reposted a few lines of people who were very dear to me, like for instance my Elizabeth.

This time i want to feature a person who i believe is one of the most genuine ones i ever met in the virtual world. We never spoke to each other on a regular basis, but when we exchange thoughts, it’s mostly intense and soulful. I’ve mocked and lectured her as well tho. Of cors only with the best intentions, hehe.

U guessed well. I’m talking about Brenda. The one with the big tits. The one who’s constantly questioning her passions, desires and wishes, without giving up on them. The one who’s blessed with exquisite wit, superior intelligence, elegant sadness, and breathtaking writing skills, but who sometimes fails to exploit them to the fullest as well. The one i’m proud of to a certain extent, and cherish to have for a friend.

Ok, enough of that. Off to the main event. It’s a story written by Brenda, which originally was one Gestalt with the picture below. As u have observed of cors, i couldn’t resist to do something to it, and placed it in a broader context in the opening picture of this blog, carefully keeping it related to the subject at hand. Well……..if u r smart enough to see.

The text i had to re-type, for u to be able to read same.

Here goes. Feel it!

I know it’s here somewhere. Inside one of these spheres is the prize. The question is whether I can find it before the unthinkable occurs. I run my fingers through each one, gently, hoping for some indication that it will feel different somehow. I fight the growing urge to rub them all over my body, to give into sensual abandon and accept my new fate. I must focus… this is the one. I turn and twist it open.

Another dud. An all-too-familiar sensation floods my chest, followed by the unmistakable swelling of my breasts. It is funny how they now resemble these very same black spheres, smooth and round and gleaming. I look up to glare at my tormentor and see victory in her eyes. I yield, and I hold my burgeoning breasts for her approval. What’s happening to me?

I try to ignore the mocking laughter. I took this gamble willingly, I remind myself, knowing full well the stakes. Failure was not supposed to be an option, but at this point, it is looking like the only one left. I grab another sphere, on impulse, and twist it open. My expectations shrink along with my waistline, now down to a fraction of its former size. How much longer until I pay the ultimate price?

I think of my partner, on her knees like some mindless slave. Now I see myself in that picture, by her side in abject servitude. This must stop. I grab another sphere, just knowing it’s the one…it has to be. I open it and laugh. Soon I will be free from this body and these ridiculous clothes, with my partner, like we were before. I laugh, as my genitals are replaced by something new and hot and hungry. The remaining spheres flicker and fade all around me, all but one of them.

We are ready to begin, intones my tormentor. I nod, fighting back the tears, and open the final sphere. Still, with one last glimmer of hope, that maybe this was all just a test, I feel my eyes glaze over and numbness overtake me. I blink and it’s gone, but I know that something has changed. With a wave of her hand she motions me to rise and I do so without a thought. The collar around my neck tells me that nothing will ever be the same again.

And now…………

Oh my gawd, what have i done? I could get killed for this, or at least for ever be doomed and burn in heaven!


  1. I wish someone could have seen my face when I opened this post. If only I had my webcam running, we could all see what shock and disbelief looks like, followed by joy and even more disbelief. I am touched and honored beyond words.

    If I am surprised, it is not for any lack of love or affection on the part of Ayesha, either through her public persona or our private correspondences, which I cherish. Really, there is no difference between the two: Ayesha is a woman with nothing hide, and less of a reason for doing so. Need I say more? I think I do.

    She is legendary, I would say, if for nothing else than her ability to wield her words as craftily as a whip, if only the latter could sting so sharply and deeply. Some would call this cruelty, and those who do would be lucky to escape with their conceit intact, for Ayesha is nothing short of loving, and to spurn her affection is to deny the essence of life itself.

    Comparisons are inadequate, but I have pictured Ayesha as a diamond: beautiful in her complexity, simple in her beauty, translucent, multifaceted and true. I do not presume to be intimate, or offer any insight beyond what is clear and discernible. I simply implore all of you to treasure this amazing and remarkable person.

    I will write more, and I will be admonished. I will be disturbed and frustrated, and bash my virtual fists against the virtual wall. Does she cause me aggravation? No doubt, but she did not create my prison. Rather, she allowed me to enjoy a brief respite of freedom. Thank you, Ayesha... for more than I can say!

  2. Ok, u did it Brenda. I'm blushing.

    Guess even more people will hate me now, hehehe.

  3. I really don't see how people can hate you. They must be self-loathing with too much time on their hands. I could go on, but I do not wish to make you blush again...

    ... I lied! I do, I do, I do! Mushy, gushy, ooshy, squishy! Hee-heeee! Take that, you haters!

  4. Now they will hate u too, lol!

  5. Ayesha you brillinat jewel