Trigger Warning: Extreme Horror: Contains Strong Sexual Content, Violence, Drug Use, and Language. Read Online Free PDF Page B

One of the girls at the club, think her name was Erica (stripper name: Candy Cane), argued that it was empowering to be a stripper: the women are in control because their sexuality renders the ape-men into slobbering, idiotic fools. It’s a lie some of us girls tell ourselves to feel better about our pasts: rape, assault, torture—all from the hairy hands of ape-men. We want to believe we have power over our abusers, that our broken sexuality can be healed by using it to abuse the ape-men back. But the ape-men will always have the power. It doesn’t matter how stupid or idiotic or unevolved they are, they will always have the fucking power because of that pathetic piece of flesh that hangs between their legs. Society acts like it’s a goddam scepter, instead of a stick and balls. Very fragile—only an unevolved fuckhead would have their reproductive organs hanging outside their body. But it doesn’t matter. These callous violent idiots rule the world and have their hairy ape-fingers on the Mass Assured Destruction button. That’s really our only hope: that someday, these fools will put us all out of our misery.
    That night, I was swinging on the pole, wearing a G-string and nothing else (if this was from a ape-man’s POV, I’d be describing my routine in gratuitous detail: how my breasts jiggled, how the fabric of  the G-string nestled into my nooks and crannies; sexualizing the ugliness and grittiness of the shit I had to deal with day in and day out just to make a living, to feed my girls, to support the drug habit I had acquired to manage my PTSD: the result of multiple abusive relationships; how hot!), and there was this ape-man in a suit, slick hair, watching me. He held out a Benjamin. Code for: private show, also known as blow or hand job; if it was five Benjamins, he’d be getting his condom wet.
    I strutted toward the edge of the stage and stuck my ass out at him so he could slide the money into my G-string, as if I were some kinda fucking cash register (so empowering!)
    I did a dance on the edge of the stage for him.
    In the mirrored-walls, I caught a glimpse of myself: on my haunches, touching my skin (tinted by green neon lights), looking sick and dead inside. How could anyone be turned on by this green, sickly woman with no life behind her eyes? Oh, right. The ape-men didn’t care.
    The ape-man in the suit smiled; a predatory smile (didn’t matter if you dressed an ape-man up, he was still an ape-man).
    Later, behind a red curtain, the ape-man and I sat in a private booth.
    I couldn’t even look at him. He scared me. So I just stared at the floor: black with glittering specks. So many specks. What were they?
    The ape-man touched my thigh and my body stiffened (but not in the way his body did).
    “I once gave a girl such powerful orgasms that she killed herself just to make it stop. She thought her head was going to explode.”
    “Uh-huh,” I said.
    “She stabbed herself through the heart with a knife as she came.”
    Cocky, lying piece of shit. “Oh,” I said, pretending to be impressed, putting a hand through my blonde hair—ape-men love that shit. “I don’t want an orgasm…that powerful.”
    I was shaking, hoping he didn’t notice. It would only heighten his arousal, his predatory instinct.
    The ape-man moved his hand farther up my thigh, leering at me.
    I couldn’t take it anymore.
    I quickly got up and left—hoping he wouldn’t be angry enough to rape or murder me, as the ape-men often do when you deny them.
    “Hey, where are you going, bitch? I paid good money for your pooty!”
    Outside, the big neon lights hummed: PUSSY CATS.
    I hurried across the parking lot in my pumps, some ape-men that were just entering the club hurling cat calls at me: “Hey, bitch, wanna suck my dick?” Clever as ever. But I won’t lie: the cat calls shook me up. My heart was already pounding from the encounter with the ape-man in the suit, but the cat calls triggered further distress and anxiety: