My friends are all getting married and having babies, and I’m happy for them. Really, I am – it’s great that they’re settling down and starting to establish their own families. But that’s not what I want for myself; I just want to spend the rest of my life in solitude, masturbating in a dank basement.
You might think I’m weird. That’s fine, I’m used to it; it’s been years since my friends first started telling me they think I’m sexually deviant. But I’m comfortable with their judgments; I know they’re just jealous because their husbands can’t make them orgasm for shit.
I don’t need to find a man with a house because 75% of my friends are already homeowners, and most of them have cellars. Jessie’s basement, for example, has a constant temperature of about 55 degrees Fahrenheit with a significant level of ceiling condensation, which makes it fantastic for casual masturbation.
But if I want to engage in a passionate mènage á moi during warmer seasons, Laura’s house is perfect; there are no windows, and it’s not connected to the upstairs power supply so I can polish my pearl in pitch darkness. Her moist and impressively chilly basement is decked with dust and cobwebs to match her newly-wed vagina, but not mine – I get plenty of action.
There is no environment better-suited for masturbation than a dark, cold, humid basement. I don’t feel bad about not settling down and starting a family. When it comes to stimulating my clit, no man can compete with my skills; I’m damn good at making myself cum, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life in a dank basement doing just that.
When Tommy Davis gave Melinda Reichbiche a dirty look at the mall, Melinda already knew how to get revenge. “I stealthily followed Tommy until he met up with his dad, Gary. Then, I fucked Gary, wrecked his home, and within a month I became Tommy’s stepmother.”
According to Melinda, Gary believes their marriage is actually founded on love rather than mere revenge. “Oh, he loves me so much. It’s kind of cute. Tommy, on the other hand, he knows exactly what’s going on and I always respond by either ignoring him or grounding him. The fact that males have no idea how much power us ladies have over them is just so endearing. It almost makes me like them!”
In what appears to be another positive outcome of the #metoo movement, obedience schools around the United States are now welcoming boys and young men ages five and up into their dog training programs.
According to Wendell Gilmore, the head trainer at the Paws-Off Obedience School for Boys and Dogs (POOSBAD) in New York City, the new program sets out to teach the boys something that their schools and parents tend to ignore: boundaries.
“We go over the basics, like displaying good behavior without expecting a reward. We also teach them how to listen to a full command without interrupting, and to stop begging at the table no matter how good the food looks and smells,” Gilmore told me. An assistant trainer chimed in: “People say ‘boys will be boys’ like you can’t do anything to change it, but I’ve never heard anyone say ‘dogs will be dogs.’ Nope, we train our dogs and bitches to behave themselves, and we need to be giving boys that same attention.”
But some parents are concerned that the programs have a sexist undertone. “I wanted to send both of my snotty children to these training classes, but I was told that my daughter wasn’t welcome. This is just one more example of discrimination against wealthy mothers,” said one worried Upper East Side resident.
Other parents disagree with this sentiment, citing that most girls already receive obedience training from their parents and teachers. “These programs are actually [SIC] anti-discrimination because they are providing an opportunity for our sons to be educated to the same standard as our dogs and daughters,” said Olivia Salamander. She also told me her son’s behavior has shown clear signs of improvement since enrolling in the obedience school and that “now, when he takes something to play with, he always brings it back.”
Sarah Jenkins sent her son to POOSBAD as soon as she got word of it. According to Mrs. Jenkins, her daughter was learning to slut-shame her friends at the age of five while her son, a twelve-year-old, was still insatiably fascinated with the baby sitter’s crotch. “Little Joey is a good boy now, and he’s only been to four training sessions. We have a lot of hope for him,” she said as she patted her pubescent boy on the head.