by Jordan Shelbourne

What most people don't know is that stroke fiction is created by logging into a particular chatroom (I'd tell you where, but you'd probably want to go there) and soliciting characters.

I was fortunate enough to find this site recently and managed to capture a bit of a recent session.

Writer> I'm looking to do a bit of hetero. Can I have one of each?

Tab_A> Here.

Slot_B> Here.

Writer> Great. Now, in this story you're going to--

Tab_A> Hey! Don't we have names?

Slot_B> *Affected accent* Puh-lease.

Writer> Sure. You're, uh, Tab.

Tab_A> Tab? Couldn't I be Dick or Rod or Peter? It just, uh, sounds longer...

Writer> If it was good enough for Tab Hunter, surely it's good enough for you.

Tab_A> Tab.

< Tab_A is now Tab >

Tab> Okay. *to self* Tab. Tab. Tab. Diet Pepsi. *Snickers*

Slot_B> Oh, boy. Like I'm looking forward to this. What's my name, bright boy?

Writer> You're, um... Slut.

Slot_B> Slut?

Writer> Slut.

Slot_B> You're kidding.

Writer> No, seriously.

Slot_B> I hope to _God_ it's a nickname. An _ironic_ nickname.

< Slot_B is now Slut >

Slut> Slut. Slut. Oh God. Slut. *sighs*

Writer> Sure. Your nickname is Slut, and you've got 36DD jugs.

Slut> "Jugs"?

Writer> And Tab, you've got a throbbing nine-inch cock.

Tab> Is that all?

Writer> I'm going for realism.

Tab> But of course. "Ma'amselle, I am Tab and this is my cock." *to groin* Hold off on the throbbing; it jostles me off my chair.

Slut> *laughs*

Writer> Tab, we'll do it from your POV. Go ahead.

Tab> Sure. *narrates*

"I want to tell you about my hot girlfriend. We call her Slut."

Slut> It's ironic. *whispers* I pray to God.

Tab> "She's a hot babe with 36DD jugs."

Writer> *looking on list of modifiers* Mouth-watering.

Tab> "...mouth-watering 36DD jugs."

Writer> Perky.

Slut> At 36DD?

Writer> That defy gravity.

Tab> "...perky mouth-watering 36DD jugs that defy gravity."

Slut> *dourly* "I'm going for realism." NOT. Hola, writer-boy.

Writer> Yes?

Slut> Can I have some characterization, here?

Writer> Pardon? Oh, okay. You have a 24-inch waist and 36-inch hips.

Slut> That's it?

Writer> Tab, you're horny.

Tab> Surprise!

Slut> Come on, throw me some kind of scrap here.

Writer> You're brunette.

Slut> Oh, that defines me so well. I feel so much smarter.

Tab> "She's got a pretty face with long brunette hair."

Slut> Thanks, Tab.

Tab> No probs. You can return the favor next time we do your POV.

Writer> A-HEM.

Slut> Oooh, somebody's pre-menstrual.

Tab> Hon, if he were a woman, you wouldn't be named "Slut."

Slut> Except ironically. Where'd we meet-- no, skip that. I know your kind. Where'd we first have sex?

Tab> Where we met, probably.

Writer> Cut the chatter. Bedroom.

Slut> Thank God. I was afraid it was an airplane bathroom. There's no room in those little stalls.

Tab> "I remember the first time we had sex. She was reluctant to come into my bedroom."

Slut> Probably the wall of dirty laundry held me at bay.

Tab> "But I quickly seduced her."

Slut> Holding a clothespin over my nose.

Writer> That's bondage, and I'm not writing it. Get to the sex.

Slut> No foreplay?

Writer> Why? Oh, all right. A bit of foreplay.

Tab> "After some passionate kissing, I held her jugs--"

Writer> Mammoth mammaries.

Tab> "After some passionate kissing, I held her mammoth mammaries in my hands."

Slut> No doubt they fell off when he lifted my sweater. And my back feels a hundred percent better.

Writer> You-- have an orgasm.

Slut> "Oh, God, Tab, I'm -- oooooh --- CUMMMMMMINGGGGG!"

Tab> How do you say all those multiple Gs?

Slut> Practise. *checks cliche list* "Nobody's ever made me come that quickly before."

Tab> "It turned out that her previous boyfriend had never even touched her."

Slut> Fucking me by remote control, no doubt.

Tab> "I asked her to bend over the bed."

Writer> *checking cliche list* "She complied readily."

Slut> I did not. *to Tab* Please tell me I didn't.

Tab> Sorry. "She complied readily."

Writer> "All of her treasures were open to me."

Slut> Excuse me? All that fuss about huge breasts, all the back pain, the stares growing up, giving up track and field, and then we touch them once, and now -- _now_ -- all my treasures are below my waist?

Slut> Find yourself another sperm-spittoon.

< Slut has left the room >

Writer> Next!

Slot_B> Hi, what's my name?

Writer> You're Bambi, and you're blonde. Get on the bed.

Slot_B> *titters* Okey-dokey.

Writer> Let's go!

Unfortunately, at that point my computer crashed, or my buffer was full, or I lost my lunch, I can't remember which. But now you have the inside scoop on why those stories are the way they are.