Friday, February 10th, 2013

Marty suddenly awoke from his slumber. He had only fallen to sleep only hours before to the sweet sounds of Chris singing drunken lullabies on Ventrilo.

"That was a horrible nightmare! I think I may have wet the bed again," he muttered in that half-awake, half-asleep daze.

He begrudgingly tore off the bed sheets and stood up, stark naked. Marty didn’t wear clothes, as it was his belief that they only served to hinder man’s free spirit. No matter – it was the sheets he was concerned with.

"4 A.M., dammit," he said to himself. Why did he have to wake up so early? Of all nights to have a pissing nightmare, it had to be this one.

Marty had a hot date set up with a cute male yoga instructor that he met the other week. He needed his beauty sleep if he planned on impressing him that evening. Who knows, maybe he’d get lucky.

This still frustrated Marty carried the sheets to the washer and dumped them in. Turning around, he gazed into the dark linen closet. Several shelves of cotton sheets vied for his attention, but he settled on a thick bundle of pink Disney princess sheets to use this time. In his heart, he always wanted to be a princess but he dare not admit that to his peers.

After gingerly placing the fresh sheets onto his bed, he lifted the pink duvet and settled back in. There were only a few hours before his alarm would wake him once again, so Marty intended to make the most of his time and doze off.

As hard as he tried, he still couldn’t get over his nightmare. His brain wasn’t even able to remember what exactly happened, but deeper inside his subconscious, something deeply unpleasant was rattling about inside.

Had it been the re-occurring femdom nightmare? No. Marty never had trouble remembering that one. In fact, lately it had turned into more of a fantasy as Marty had finally overcome his fear of black latex. Now, he actually was able to derive some "pleasure" from those thoughts.

It had to be something new this time. But what? What would cause such subconscious trauma? Marty is a programmer at a mildly successful local company, and as such has a distinct power for deductive reasoning.

"What’s happened to me in the past few days?" he muttered to himself.

He had his ice cream stolen by a little girl at Cold Stone Creamery on Monday.

"No, that can’t be it," he rewound, "that happens all the time."

On Wednesday he finally ran out of episodes of Community to watch. The sudden loss of episodes to enjoy cause many people to experience emotional, and even physical pain.

"Maybe, but I don’t think I remember seeing any of the Community cast in my nightmare."

Getting closer to the present, he recalled a conversation with Brett that he had on Thursday. During, Brett lightly suggested sexual torture would occur if he did not finish version 3 of Gaming Heavens.

That website literally had not received an update in two years, but Brett was still adamant in using his vast collection of spiked dildos and rusty crowbars to penetrate various orifices if version 3 was not finished in due haste.

This was the nightmare that had awoken him. He had envisioned Brett in a bloodied lab coat, slowly inserting rusted construction implements into god-knows-where.

He knew what he had to do.

He had to finish v3.

(and by finish, I mean finally get around to spending a couple of days to add a chat to a moderately complete site and launch it as-is)

And so, we step away from this story learning a valuable lesson. Brett will haunt you in your dreams. The end.