- Local time
- Today 6:40 AM
- Messages
- 1,038
- Age
- 32
- Pronouns
- She/her
A.D.I.D.A.S. - Korn
The lights overhead buzzed, the sound oddly melding with the lone coffee pot that dripped slowly from the white folding table that sat along the far wall. Donuts, which looked like they could be a bit on the stale side, were stacked like a pyramid on a plastic tray. The display was as pathetic as his reason for being here. Eyes dropping to the shiny wood floor of the gym which belonged to whatever school offered it up to host such an event, he began to wonder just exactly how he ended up here.
"Welcome, welcome," a voice sounded all too happy from up front. "I'm happy to see some familiar faces and even more so to see new ones. I, of course, am Stan and present to lead us through this honest discussion. As always everyone will be heard and seen, but let's start with the newbies."
Closing his eyes, Trevor willed himself to become invisible. For the floor to open up like a giant mouth and swallow him whole. Anything to save him from actually having to talk in front of these people. This was beyond stupid in his eyes and for whatever reason he just knew that…
"How about you, sir. In the Slayer shirt."
Looking up at Stan, who smiled proudly in a light blue polo and khakis, Trevor sighed audibly. The smile in front twitched. Standing, the chain going from his belt loop to his pocket jangled loudly from the movement. The heels of his black biker boots thudded loudly against the floor as he made his way through the crudely constructed aisle. Metal folding chairs sat in rows on either side of him, a good portion of them empty, parted like the Red Sea clearing a path to the podium that he was being motioned to by the guy with an unwavering smile.
The wood of the podium was rough beneath his hands, something that was difficult to accomplish as his hands were callused from his job. Dark brown eyes scanned the faces of those who were there to witness his top most embarrassing moment of his life. A few wouldn't look him in the eye, a couple of females stared at him like a piece of meat prompting him to wonder just exactly what they would taste like spread before him like a three course meal.
"Start with your name," Stan spoke while moving towards an empty seat upfront effectively pulling Trevor from his spiraling thoughts.
"I'm Trevor," his voice came out gruff and gravelly, "and I'm…"
His sentence died off. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. To him there was nothing wrong with this, and he was sure that some of the others, who watched him so expectantly, would agree. Running his fingers through his already messy black hair, Trevor sighed again.
"I honestly don't understand why I'm here," he laughed, the sound coming deep from within his chest. Stan looked as if he was going to speak, but Trevor waved him off. "I don't have a problem, everyone else just thinks I do. What does it matter to them? My actions have no effect on their lives at all. I'm happy being this way, shouldn't that be all that matters?"
Eyes falling to the podium, Trevor tried to grasp a thought to run with. This was already getting away from him and he was worried about going on a tangent in front of strangers. Even though he didn't care about whatever judgemental thoughts they had about him. "How can anyone declare me as an addict? Just because screwing might be the only way that I can truly be free from my fucked up reality, doesn't mean I have a problem. Just because I chase tail doesn't mean I can't function without it. Life is just so much better when I can get someone to scream my name."
Smirking, he pulled the mic from the podium kicking away the aged wood. "Maybe it's because I don't care where I'm at. I have completed the transaction in very risky places, but that's part of the thrill is it not? Let's see… in a bathroom at my younger sister's graduation, that teacher just couldn't get enough of me. God, I can still hear her moans in my head. Behind a tree at a park, during a funeral in a graveyard," ticking up fingers as he talked, Trevor kept score of his accomplishments.
"Getting caught a handful of times at church kind of gives you a reputation too, but if my mother wasn't so worried about trying to save my soul they would have never taken place. I'm twenty five, let me live the way I want," at this point the audience was becoming lively, chatting in murmured tones and agreeing with him. "Whose business is it besides my own that all day I dream about sex? The feel of it, the sound of it.."
Stan stood quickly, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. Taking a step back, Trevor held the mic out of reach as Stan was a good deal shorter than him. "Who are you to judge me?" Trevor asked him.
"We don't have the problem, you do. Don't like it? Don't watch." Dropping the mic to the floor, where it was instantly claimed by Stan who immediately started to try and get the group under control.
"I'm Trevor and I am HAPPILY a sex addict," he yelled leaving the podium behind and beckoning over the women who had eyed him so hungrily. Perhaps he had found a new hunting ground. Meetings wouldn't be so bad if in the end he got what he wanted anyway.
The lights overhead buzzed, the sound oddly melding with the lone coffee pot that dripped slowly from the white folding table that sat along the far wall. Donuts, which looked like they could be a bit on the stale side, were stacked like a pyramid on a plastic tray. The display was as pathetic as his reason for being here. Eyes dropping to the shiny wood floor of the gym which belonged to whatever school offered it up to host such an event, he began to wonder just exactly how he ended up here.
"Welcome, welcome," a voice sounded all too happy from up front. "I'm happy to see some familiar faces and even more so to see new ones. I, of course, am Stan and present to lead us through this honest discussion. As always everyone will be heard and seen, but let's start with the newbies."
Closing his eyes, Trevor willed himself to become invisible. For the floor to open up like a giant mouth and swallow him whole. Anything to save him from actually having to talk in front of these people. This was beyond stupid in his eyes and for whatever reason he just knew that…
"How about you, sir. In the Slayer shirt."
Looking up at Stan, who smiled proudly in a light blue polo and khakis, Trevor sighed audibly. The smile in front twitched. Standing, the chain going from his belt loop to his pocket jangled loudly from the movement. The heels of his black biker boots thudded loudly against the floor as he made his way through the crudely constructed aisle. Metal folding chairs sat in rows on either side of him, a good portion of them empty, parted like the Red Sea clearing a path to the podium that he was being motioned to by the guy with an unwavering smile.
The wood of the podium was rough beneath his hands, something that was difficult to accomplish as his hands were callused from his job. Dark brown eyes scanned the faces of those who were there to witness his top most embarrassing moment of his life. A few wouldn't look him in the eye, a couple of females stared at him like a piece of meat prompting him to wonder just exactly what they would taste like spread before him like a three course meal.
"Start with your name," Stan spoke while moving towards an empty seat upfront effectively pulling Trevor from his spiraling thoughts.
"I'm Trevor," his voice came out gruff and gravelly, "and I'm…"
His sentence died off. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. To him there was nothing wrong with this, and he was sure that some of the others, who watched him so expectantly, would agree. Running his fingers through his already messy black hair, Trevor sighed again.
"I honestly don't understand why I'm here," he laughed, the sound coming deep from within his chest. Stan looked as if he was going to speak, but Trevor waved him off. "I don't have a problem, everyone else just thinks I do. What does it matter to them? My actions have no effect on their lives at all. I'm happy being this way, shouldn't that be all that matters?"
Eyes falling to the podium, Trevor tried to grasp a thought to run with. This was already getting away from him and he was worried about going on a tangent in front of strangers. Even though he didn't care about whatever judgemental thoughts they had about him. "How can anyone declare me as an addict? Just because screwing might be the only way that I can truly be free from my fucked up reality, doesn't mean I have a problem. Just because I chase tail doesn't mean I can't function without it. Life is just so much better when I can get someone to scream my name."
Smirking, he pulled the mic from the podium kicking away the aged wood. "Maybe it's because I don't care where I'm at. I have completed the transaction in very risky places, but that's part of the thrill is it not? Let's see… in a bathroom at my younger sister's graduation, that teacher just couldn't get enough of me. God, I can still hear her moans in my head. Behind a tree at a park, during a funeral in a graveyard," ticking up fingers as he talked, Trevor kept score of his accomplishments.
"Getting caught a handful of times at church kind of gives you a reputation too, but if my mother wasn't so worried about trying to save my soul they would have never taken place. I'm twenty five, let me live the way I want," at this point the audience was becoming lively, chatting in murmured tones and agreeing with him. "Whose business is it besides my own that all day I dream about sex? The feel of it, the sound of it.."
Stan stood quickly, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. Taking a step back, Trevor held the mic out of reach as Stan was a good deal shorter than him. "Who are you to judge me?" Trevor asked him.
"We don't have the problem, you do. Don't like it? Don't watch." Dropping the mic to the floor, where it was instantly claimed by Stan who immediately started to try and get the group under control.
"I'm Trevor and I am HAPPILY a sex addict," he yelled leaving the podium behind and beckoning over the women who had eyed him so hungrily. Perhaps he had found a new hunting ground. Meetings wouldn't be so bad if in the end he got what he wanted anyway.