Opener for my new short story: Deflowermasters Inc.

Deflowermasters Inc.

a Dudette tale from SoCal, Lebowski-style in which a techboy gets deflowered!

by Valentine Bonnaire c. Feb 2013


“Dude, we have a problem on our hands.”

“It’s Jimmy.”


“He ordered a Blobmate.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“A big fucking vibrating pillow.  It’s his new girlfriend.”

It was a fact that nobody was really fucking around much anymore in 2025.  The robots had taken over practically everything.  Kevin and Jimmy and Deano had been friends forever, in the way that guys are friends or possibly helpful to each other when they needed to be.  It’s not like they didn’t surf together.  It’s not like they hadn’t taught each other to drive, or helped each other cheat on exams in college.  They were all techdudes from way back.  Since they were kids.  It’s just that Jimmy had lagged behind when they were dating.  They’d been so busy getting all the hacksites up and running, and doing the gaming, and finally Kevin had had a kid and married — that their buddytime had decreased by zillions of degrees.  There just wasn’t time, considering.

Deano had the most bravado of the three.  He’d also gotten laid the most and wore the coolest surf trunks.  Life had been easy on him, surfing two ways, and making a fortune off his company at barely twenty one.  He was the clown of the operation.

Jimmy was the shy one, surrounded by gizmos that clicked and whirred, no real human contact except his old friends.  It was Deano that had seen him curled around that white shape he’d ordered.  Deano that recoiled as he saw  Jimmy with his arms around it, curled against it and thrusting himself into the vaccumform tube it had like a strange pulsating orifice.

*Fuck, man, that shit is something else…*

“I’m gonna get you laid, Jimmy,” was all he said before he bolted for the door, shaking his head as he left.

“These are strange times, Kevin.  Very strange times.”

He hoisted his beer up to the light and toasted Kevin with a clink.


“Oh, man I don’t know,”  said Kevin.  “Last I heard he was fixated on somebody named Darlene.  He had such a crush on her he could hardly talk.  It was two years before he even told me, Deano.”

“What is wrong with him, man?”

“He thought he was in love.”

“Who was she?”

“Just some little thing he saw at the convention.”

“What did she look like?”

“Nothin’ special.  He loved her though.”

“How do you know?”

“He asked me how to approach her many times.  We were working on a plan, actually.”


I started this last night, late.  I think it’s a very sad future when it’s man on blob.  I really do.



ps: That blog I started over on Google+ called Heterotica?  Well I googled the images for that.  I coined the term in Wordnik the other day.  It refers to “heterosexual erotica” — which is anti-man and blob.  I write humanism.  If you google the images I did?  You’ll see nothing that relates to that.  What you get are things like string theory?  How sad is that?  Sad.  You try it!

The only thing on my mind this morning is what would Stanley Kubrick do if he saw The Singularity?

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