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A shopoholic finds a dark new high as another bizarre Minus Three romance begins.
|| {s}mall 1 of 6 ||


My arms felt like rubber and my knees were weak and I no longer felt like a man.

The dull throb in my head was turning into a screaming pain in slow, even, measured paces. It had gone on for weeks now, never ceasing or letting up for a second. The pinky finger on each of my hands was tingling, the pins and needles getting worse. It was like this all the time now and I needed to just fucking get it out and stop all this senseless meandering. To and fro like a mouse in a maze, all of us. The only time I felt anything close to the spiritual enlightenment of a fulfilled existence promised us in our youth was when I shopped.

I’d sought addiction counseling without telling anybody who knows me, about three years ago, without any results. I could just as soon cease my addiction to water as I could my addiction to the fucking mall. The lights, the buzz, the endless commerce; it was like some kind of perverse mana to me. I nuzzled at the teat of raw consumerism like I was sick and the cure was inside.

Until a few weeks ago. Eighteen days of a building headache ago. Eighteen almost-sleepless nights ago. Eighteen more reasons not to go to the mall ago. Eighteen days since I’d hit her with my car.

I could still see it like it was happening right now, me coming around the parking lot corner by the foodcourt doors a little too fast and she stepping off the curb when I didn’t expect. Bam. Up and over the hood, rolling up the windshield to stop on the roof with the sound of metal buckling as I braked. Small and crumpled and limp. She actually said she was okay when I got out and helped her up. I was numb. She had rolled with it on instinct, and though she was clearly shaken she insisted everything had been fine. She was small, fit; maybe 19 or 20. We exchanged information on my insistence that something might come up later; she had been hit by a car after all.

As I had stepped out of the car right after it happened I had felt a rising tension; I had hit someone with my car after all. When I watched her walk away I was shocked to find that I was a little let down. It seemed so anticlimactic. Two days later she came to my house. I stood at the door while she explained she had used my phone number to find my address and had come to let me know that she was still fine and that if I was still worried I shouldn’t be. I felt that sudden let-down again and I invited her in. When I closed the door behind us and she stood in front of me looking into my living room I put my hands around her throat from behind; I put my hands around her throat and I killed her.

I’m not bragging. I’m surprised to admit though that I also don’t care. Since then I couldn’t stop thinking about it; I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was over too fast. Eighteen days of regret that I didn’t drag it out longer. Eighteen days of wishing I could do it over again, like the first time I had sex. Make it last. Eighteen days of being half-assed at work, eighteen days of barely eating, eighteen days of wondering why I felt like I didn’t do it right instead of feeling guilty that I had done it at all.

Eighteen days of not being able to shop.

I’d gone to the mall every day after work since then, gone to the mall and wandered around like a flesh starved ghoul. Nothing worked, the mall felt dead. I felt like I was trying to jerk off drunk, banging and slapping at some flaccid piece of numb flesh. Knowing that it wasn’t any good to try but pressing on anyways. It was like getting a handjob from a 73 year old man. I kept telling myself, ‘shop as usual, and avoid panic buying’, but my purchases mounted as I stopped even looking at most of what I bought. I was pulling and pulling but never got off.


Sitting on the bench watching the mall go past, trying to get up my shopping wood, I saw her looking at me. She was small. Some might say plain in the face, but where they saw commonness I saw confidence and reserve. Her eyes betrayed an innocence. Her blonde hair was clean and plain as well, to her shoulders and simple. She looked soft. I looked away before I let my gaze dwell on her neck.

I left. To my chagrin so did she; I saw her as I pulled out of the parking lot, watching me from the sidewalk by the foodcourt doors. My heart raced and I fought the urge to swerve and batter her down with the front of my car. I didn’t like this anymore; the headache was going away and I started to miss it, fearing what its absence said about me.

She waved; I went home angry and pent up.

I tried everything after that. I drank, I tried to lose myself in my work, I even started staying up all night working out on a home gym I purchased online. Despite its losing its ability to satisfy me I still felt the urge to buy things so I started shopping online. My garbage had turned from bags from the mall into mail order packaging. I couldn’t go back to the mall in case I saw her again, soft and breakable.


I couldn’t get off on anything anymore. I tried porn, then strippers, then prostitutes. The third time I was with one I found myself putting my hands around her neck and she told me that “that would cost extra”; I lost my temper and slapped her across her whore mouth and kicked her out of the shitty motel room I’d paid for to fuck her in.

Twenty-three minutes later, as I sat on the end of the bed trying to subdue myself from going and finding her and doing something stupid again, there was a loud pounding on the door. It sounded like someone thumping on it with palm of their hand.

“Eh, yo! Open the fucking door!” a voice yelled.

I sat at the foot of the bed, not knowing what to do. Was it cops? It was probably some angry pimp.

“Open this fucking door motherfucker!” the voice yelled, “Open it right now!”

I took in a long breath and walked to the door. I put my hand on the door frame to steady myself and opened the door, keeping the shitty brass security bar locked. The door surged inwards, banging to a stop on the bar, and a black skinned hand reached through to grab at me.

“Open this door and give me my money motherfucker!”

I felt a calm come over me. The headache was gone. The shakes were gone. I picked up the lamp and unlocked the door. It burst inwards almost at once, a black guy in a nice jacket coming through it reaching for me. My face was placid, my body at rest, and everything slowed down as I brought the lamp upwards in a short swing and shattered it against the underside of his jaw. I saw shards of glass cut his right cheek and the left side of his lips as his scrunched up in surprise and pain. He was still reaching for me with his outstretched hands and I stepped back and to my left out of his grasp. Dropping the ruins of the lamp I grabbed the back of his jacket, noted the brand and probable retail price, and used his own momentum to throw him face first into the dresser.

It was so much different from the first time; he was stronger and struggled more. My legs straddled over him as he tried to rise and I clenched my hands around his neck and dug my fingers into his throat, interlacing my fingers and digging them in. I had to lean my weight fully into him to keep him from breaking free. I felt the hunger I had been feeling being savagely sated as his resistance failed and he went limp under me. The first time I had become suddenly aroused, and it happened again now. I felt my erection straining inside my jeans and I slammed the door leading out of the room closed as I ran past into the bathroom and yanked open the front of my pants to free it. Ramming my hand up and down my fiercely clutched cock I gritted my teeth and I saw myself in the mirror, my face a primal grimace of fury. In one hot lunge I smashed the mirror with the palm of my free hand and came so hard I shot my junk over the sink to splatter on the mirror’s fractured surface, issuing one hoarse scream.

“AHHHHH!” I leaned forward sharply, my elbows on the counter on either side of the cracked and stained porcelain sink and my cock hanging out, already half-limp. My upper body chugged and surged with the rhythm of my ragged breathing, slowly subsiding to measured pants.

I looked back into the room as I fastened my belt. The pimp lay on the floor beside the bed looking dead and heavy. Not like her; she had been light and small and easy to move. A wave of disgust rolled over me when I realized that I felt…gay. It had been a man. I wanted to vomit but didn’t have time; I had to get the fuck out of here. I knew I was fucked no matter what I did; my fingerprints were everywhere. I’d used a fake name to get the room but I’d been trying to be under the radar, not dodge…murder.

I’d never said the word to myself before. My body went cold and the calm came back. With a wet towel from the bathroom I wiped everything off that I could remember touching including the pieces of broken lamp, cleaned my cum from the mirror, and left. My thoughts refused to race, even when I prodded them to, as I drove calmly from the low rent edge of the city back towards my home. Murder. It didn’t sound as bad as I’d thought it would. Murder. I tried it out loud.

“Murder,” I said into the silence of my car. I frowned and shook my head slightly, quickly. I knew I was going to have to find that fucking whore before she talked to the cops.

Instead though, the next day I called in sick and went to the mall.


He looked nice; maybe a little serious, but nice.

I’d realized I liked older men when I was pretty young, just a girl really. Not that that was that long ago. There were guys in school that seemed interested in me but I couldn’t bring myself to think about letting any of them near me with their silly little penises. I’d had a boyfriend last summer, a year ago. he’d been one year ahead of me in school and visiting his family over the holidays. I’d let him kiss me and put his hand on one of my breasts but that’s as far as I let it go. I started thinking about the stories he’d tell me when he went back home when summer was over and I lost interest. I didn’t want to be one of those summer fling stories I’d heard the guys at my own school talk about.

Two days in a row now I’d seen him at the mall. I didn’t really have a lot of money to spend but I didn’t have much else to do; my friends were mostly away this summer. Today he seemed to have noticed me noticing him. I couldn’t tell how old he was but I knew he had to have at least ten years on me. He sat on a bench trying to look like he was looking around at the mall traffic but I knew he was looking at me. I looked away for a second and I saw him turn his gaze back to me. Smiling a proud little smile I licked at my yogurt cone. I saw him shift forward and lean his elbows on his knees with his head still turned towards me. I looked back to him and caught his gaze for a second and his eyes went wide. I took another lick and smiled as he tried to make it look like he had just been sweeping his gaze past and had caught my eyes by accident. For an older guy he sure acted shy. I smiled again. I knew how he felt. I’d been pretty shy my whole life too.

What could be his reason? Me, I’d never gotten over Kevin Clarke pulling my pants down in grade 4. Out on the playground, playing girls chase boys, he’d come up behind me and pulled my pants and panties down to my knees and slapped me on my bare bottom and all the kids had laughed really hard at me. It’s the single worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Why would a grade 6 boy do that to a grade 4 girl? Nope, I’d never gotten over that; not even after the few years between then and now.

Some yogurt had dripped onto my chin and the front of my pale green shirt so I wiped it off with my finger and then licked it, sucking the end of my finger into my mouth. He was still looking at me, so I licked the end of my finger and put it back between my soft lips. Without turning my face towards him I shifted my eyes and tried to catch his again. He looked away again. A little frown furrowed my brow as I tried to catch his attention by uncrossing and then crossing my legs again, not enough to let him see my soft white panties under my little white skirt but enough so he might think he could. This was about as forward as I’d ever been towards a guy and I knew I was pretty, so what was I doing wrong? People liked my soft blonde hair, they liked my cute face, and they liked my cute little body. Wait, why was I even doing this? I’d never seen myself as one of those slutty girls. I felt desperate for him to notice me though, and though I felt a little dirty doing it I uncrossed my legs and put my feet apart with my knees together. I held my ice cream while I licked at it with one hand and slid the other into my lap. When I knew he was looking I moved my knees apart slowly lifted a the soft fabric of the front of my skirt with my fingers so he could see all the way from where it started at my knees up to my little cotton panties.


Why was she doing that?

She was better when she looked clean and innocent and soft; small. Now she was trying to get me to look up her skirt, and I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. This isn’t what I wanted her for and now I was getting confused. Both urges simmered inside of me as I looked at her, soft and small. Her panties looked as soft as her neck. I licked my lips as she licked her ice cream with a long stroke of her tongue. She caught my eyes again and I looked to the floor of the mall’s hall in front of me. I saw her cock her head slightly and with a quick flick of my eyes saw that she was frowning and standing. She moved with a huff and turned and walked away. I got up and followed her, keeping several people between us as I did. Soon she was at the exit that goes through the parking lot under the elevated one above and out to the bus stops.

I felt my pulse quicken as everything else went calm and slowed down.


I felt pretty stupid and low as I left the mall and crossed through the shadowed parking lot to catch my bus and go home. What a dumb girl, exposing herself to some stranger in the mall. What had I been thinking? I felt like such a slut.

The rush of motion came fast, something slamming into me from the side. An arm went around my stomach, lifting me off the ground, and before I could scream another shot over my shoulder from behind and a hand clamped on my open mouth. I tried to bite at it but it clenched its grip on my face and my head was pulled back at a sharp upwards angle. The hand around my stomach roughly slid down my front and I felt a hand grab me violently between the legs, lifting me further from the ground as its fingers pushed into my little pussy. I jerked my body around trying to get away but I wasn’t strong enough. I was too small. I heard a laugh and felt hot breath on the back of my neck.

“You’re going nowhere,” a quiet and mean voice hissed, strained like through a clenched jaw.

Unremitting horror was all I could feel inside.

I could feel his hard dick pressing against my ass through our clothes and I tried to scream again as I thrashed uselessly. With those awful fingers pushing into me and that hard hand around the lower half of my face I was whirled around and he slammed my chest against the side of a car. I was pinned there between the hard glass and metal and his thrusting body, and the hand groping at me went quickly between us and I could feel the back of his hand against my ass and heard the sound of a belt buckle being opened. I was still trying to scream and tears flowed from my eyes. I started jerking and thrashing harder, but then the hard hand on my face yanked my head back really hard and everything went white for a second as a searing pain shot from my neck down my back.

His other hand was grabbing at my ass now, and as my white skirt went upwards with one fast yank I could feel his rock hard cock pushing against my ass through my panties. With one more yank they were gone, pulled down to mid thigh, and I felt his shaft pressed between my cheeks as he thrust against me. Screaming into his hand in vain I fought harder, but he let go of my face for a second to yank at my hair and hit the side of my head off the roof of the car he had me pinned against. Everything flashed white again with the new explosion of pain. His mean, hard hand went back to my face and clutched it tightly. I felt something hard poke roughly against me between the legs, stabbing randomly and fiercely as he tried to force himself inside me.

I clenched my eyes shut and screamed as hard as I could into his hand.



She was mine.

Of course there were others like me; but there was only one of her and she was mine.

Shocked, I had watched up until now not knowing what else to do. Is that what I looked like? Gareth Nicks, all tensed fury and violent motion? My body was frozen and the calm evaporated as I looked on while he had sprung out from behind a car and grabbed her, slamming her hard into a car and ripping at her clothes. It was too much, I couldn’t watch this anymore. I couldn’t let him have any part of her and had to stop him before his manic thrusts found what he was looking for.

The calm returned in one cool wash and I had his hair in my left fist. My right slammed into his face from the side and he dropped her. Screaming frantically for help she stumbled to the side as she tried to run with her panties around her thighs. As I bashed the man’s skull against the car as he had hers she clumsily pulled her underwear up and ran and screamed. There were other people coming now, and as my grip on him slackened for a second he pulled free. I lunged to grab him again but the way he looked at me stopped me before I had him. There was a knowing look there; a familiarity that fed shock, rather than anger, that I had stopped him. A small grin flashed across his face and he fled as I faltered.


No, talking to mall security and police isn’t fun right after you were about to…murder. It makes your heart race and sweat run down your face like you’re in a sauna and it’s you instead of water being used for the steam. Descriptions given and statements taken I left as fast as I could, through the halls to the stairs of the police station. I caught her eye through a window in one hallway half way to freedom and she stood up suddenly and ran for the door of the room she was in. The plastic brace on her neck hid it from me and the livid bruise on the left side of her face hid that from me too. She was still crying, hunched looking, and her voice was shaky and small as she spoke.

“Thank you,” she sobbed in a small, scared voice as she came to me, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning against me, “thank you so much, mister.”

What I saw in her eyes as I looked down at her stopped my heart. She was so terrified. I put my hands on her shoulders and slid them around her to rub her back. I had been so close…and then she’d been taken from me. I couldn’t let anyone do that again. I would have to watch her, guard her, make sure no one else tried to take her again. She was mine.

A cop had come into the hallway and asked her to come back in and sit down. He said her name; Cori. Was it the way I pictured? Cori with an I? I hoped so. She pulled away from me reluctantly and through her tears said it one more time.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” I told her. It hadn’t been though, and was getting less so.

The headache had returned.

anonymous readerReport

2013-05-24 07:47:17
Well, it depends on your age, level of cnomitmemt to each other and your boyfriend's personality. If he truly cares for you, then he will care about problems that you have. He may not be able to do anything specific to help, but he can at least listen.With regards to PDA, you do need to sit down and explain it to him, in private and quietly. Make sure that he understands that its not because of him, you just don't like people watching, and sharing in something so special. Be honest and make sure that he understands that affection is good when it just you two sharing.

anonymous readerReport

2013-05-22 04:38:24
Time to face the music armed with this great inofmraiton.

anonymous readerReport

2013-01-22 05:56:01
That's a slick answer to a challenging qtuseion

Minus ThreeReport

2011-08-04 11:12:47
I'm glad some enjoyed.


2011-08-03 05:06:55
ohh man! hahah sucks for the main character! Can't wait for part 2! please post it soon

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