Kaeli has ideas.
The THOT Police: A Coming-of-Age Story
Written By Kaeli Quick for Shipwreck, competitive erotic Fan Fiction (April 2017, novel: "1984") – 3rd Place Winner
I needed to get out! I needed to reinvent myself! I needed to start over, as one does after experiencing intense grief and estrangement. Plus, I’ve always been fascinated by other people’s lives (when I wasn’t so steadfastly enduring my own, of course). So now, here I sat: a 25-year-old woman on the 100th floor of Miniluv, staring at an inky, photocopied pamphlet in a drab waiting room.
“Future THOT Police: Big Brother Wants You!
- Inquisitive and curious?
- A student of human behavior?
- Okay with nudity?
- Smug with self-righteousness?
ANY AND ALL ARE WELCOME. JOIN TODAY!”
The spelling of “THOT” is not what I imagined. "T-H-O-T?," I smoothed my bangs and pursed my lips, confused. Must be some newspeak thing. But as far as requirements were concerned, I was definitely overqualified. As a writer, I've spent my life questioning and
observing other people's actions, personalizing them, and then repurposing them as if they were my own experiences. So...check! As far nudity goes, I am very okay with it; check! I'm not so sure about the smugness, but I do consider myself the voice of a generation. So, obviously, I'm gonna be, like, the Beyonce of the THOT Police. Check!
I moved to Oceania by way of Brooklyn to escape the cruelest of realities: my boyfriend Adam dumped me and began a sexual relationship with my best friend, Jessa. The heartbreak was too much to bear. Adam was my first true love. Our relationship was built on pure, animalistic passion. At night, images of our trysts flashed through my mind like a telescreen -- the biting, the spanking, the being thrown against a bookshelf. For the past few months, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in my own sweat; my cotton, drug-store Hanes Her Ways soaked completely through. I would search the bed for a familiar beefy arm, a lanky leg, or hairless chest, yet I was all alone.
Honestly, at this point, anywhere -- even a dystopian empire -- was better than Brooklyn.
I looked up. The room was desolate, colorless, and damp, like a clinician's office when everyone is coughing up gray phlegm. I hadn't seen anyone manning the reception window since I had signed in, so I impatiently waltzed up to the desk and cooed, "Yoo-hoo! Anyone? Hello? My name is Hannah? I'm here to become part of the THOT Police?" My vocal fry echoed off of the metal filing cabinets and brick walls all the way to the back of the building. I shrugged winsomely and turned to walk back to my seat. Tired of sitting, I wandered around the waiting room, dragging my orange polished nails against the wall until they grazed a lopsided poster. I stepped back.
“Oooh! Is that Tom Selleck?,” I squawked then squinted closer. “Yep. I’m pretty sure that’s an un-mustachioed Tom Selleck.” I’d never noticed how much Big Brother looked like Magnum P.I. before, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t into it. I grew up watching Friends, and honestly, when he started dating Monica, I watched every episode he was on. Twice.
I started to feel my cheeks flush as my nipples (or nips, as they were called in newspeak) became hard against the inside of my blue overalls. I brushed my hands against them from the outside and looked around. I was still alone. I unsnapped my top buttons to expose my pert breasts. It had been so long since I’d been touched. Like, basically a week. (I banged a college student on the train to Oceania.)
The loudest sound in the waiting room had been the buzzing fluorescent lights until “Creeeeeeeak--bang!” It was the sound of a metal door furiously swinging open. My heart started to race. Loud footsteps approached from behind the wall. I could tell they were a man’s footsteps because, well, I’m a writer and just very good at observing things like that. The door from the back warehouse flung open into the waiting room. It was...was it? Yeah, it was. It was Tom Selleck. Without a mustache. I think?
“What do you WANT?,” he snorted grumpily. “I’m busy surveilling hundreds of thousands of people right now!” He was sweaty with anger and his overalls were unbuttoned just enough to expose a triangle of his hairy, barrel chest.
"I...uh, I'm Hannah...and I wanted to join the THOT Police today," I said timidly, tilting my head down and batting my eyelashes at him like I was trying to get out of a traffic ticket. "I mean if you'll have me." I paused. "I feel like I'm very qualified…"
At the same moment, we both noticed that my breasts were still fully exposed. He looked me up and down, really seeing me this time. He stepped toward me. My breath quickened.
“You want to know...if I’ll have you?,” he hummed, lowering his 6-foot-4 frame to my level, his Rockford Files chin square with my mouth. I wet my lips with my tongue.
“Yes…,” I whispered, blinking furiously. My OCD was in full effect.
Before I could utter another word, Big Brother kissed me furiously, with a savage energy I had only ever experienced with Adam. He grabbed me around the waist and I swung my fleshy thighs around him. I could feel the burden of Oceania’s jingoism in his shoulders. He smelled like soot and dust and sweat. I’ve never wanted to eat all of those things, certainly not all at once, but I was hungry. I wanted to consume him sloppily, like a cupcake in a bathtub.
He laid me down on the cold concrete floor of the waiting room and ripped my overalls open. He commanded me to rip his open, but I knew my upper body strength was lacking. I made a dent, and he finished it off, exposing his sturdy, masculine bod. I looked down.
"Oh, wow," I lauded. "Now I know why they call you…"
“Big Brother,” he interrupted, raising his dark Neanderthal brow suggestively with the gravitas of Tom Sel... OKAY, BUT, LIKE, IS THIS TOM SELLECK, THOUGH?!
A bead of sooty sweat landed on my milky white breasts as he entered me. I cooed like a swan, arching my back as he bit my neck. Actually, I probably yelped more than I cooed. This was a lot to take in, not to mention I hadn’t even interviewed for the THOT Police job yet.
I ran my fingers through his thick dark hair. He grunted and pinned my hands to the ground as he thrusted slowly and firmly, with determination. “I can’t believe I’m fucking the guy from Three Men and a Baby,” I thought.
“Can I...ask you a...question?,” I moaned between thrusts, my legs still wrapped around him and quivering.
“Mmmm-hmm,” he grunted, piercing me with his deep stare as he perched atop my body. What they said was true; he was good at watching people. I’m not sure I could ever be that good at it. Maybe this wasn’t the job for me.
“What...was it like...on the set of… TAXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE?,” I was climaxing. This was intense. Transcendent. Adam had never taken me here. I saw colors that didn’t even exist in Oceania. I felt like electricity was shooting out of every orifice, every limb. I was howling helplessly. Two Minutes Hate? More like Two Minutes GREAT. My eyes glazed over; I could no longer meet Big Brother’s constant gaze. Then, everything went black.
When I came to wearing my freshly ripped overalls, I was slouched down in a drab, gray chair. I looked around. “Alone again,” I thought.
I stumbled up to the reception window. My name had been crossed off of the waiting list. I inhaled sharply.
“Wait ‘til I tell Marnie about this.”