Rise of the Geishan Warrior: A look at our potential future.


The Rise of the Geishan Warrior


Conrad Von Supertramp

 Written Saturday, May 15, 2010 1:47:30 AM

            Today I am a male geisha.  The year was 2028.  Women outnumbered men 5 to 1.  So now the premium is upon the male seeds quality.  The male has now become the prostitute for women.  I represent the highest order of male husbandrymen.  I am the first Geishan Warrior.

              Women control the money.  They own most of the land, yet man continues to do most of the physical work.  Due to increased chemical toxins placed into the atmosphere men were selectively being bred out.  Increases in female populations, turned the whole dynamic of our society on its head, whoop flip turned upside down.  Me I was an opportunist.  Bred to be a serviceman to women in order to live life fully and achieve the greatest amounts of bliss we can in this life.  This is the story of my beginning.

             My father was the son of a long line of men known for dominating their women.  I was no different.  However in the new age, you dominated them with pleasure.  An infinite number of triangles.  The melody my dad would sing as a kid still comes out all sing songy.  Like in typical children’s story style, upbeat with smooth melody.  An infinite number of tri-angles.  All these years of being a Geishan Warrior and I only now realize he meant more than just the fertile valleys of prosperity that come from between her legs.  Our creation, our continued survival though, lay within the seed of man.  This is what made a man great.  The quality of his seed is what matters.  No fruit blooms if the seed is sick.  When I was born we lived in a time of little fruit.  They were dark times for many.  For my family they were filled with love, learning, mutual respect, and unlimited potential.  The days of fearing loss of woman to the males in our line had ceased. 

 See men dominated their women because they had been genetically bred to do so.  Unable to understand the true strength in being a man, and what that meant kept many men of old beaten down.  Geishan Warriors were established to teach a new order for men.  One that will allow women to have whatever makes them happy.  This simultaneously allowed men to reach full bliss.

            One man in this scenario has the potential to double the population of the planet.  Therefore new focus was given to the ability to keep women happy enough to not need physical sex.  However allowing mutual prostitution in the event either part of the populace required pleasure kept neither party from trying to dominate another.  Men are tested at birth for indicators of their sperm count.  Those with the highest estimated sperm count are given priority in education, training, opportunity.  They are selected for breeding.  All Geishan Warriors have been found acceptable to breed.  Those with a lower sperm count have less chance of breeding successfully.  If a child shows improvements or is viewed as gifted with the standard available education and training, then Brother evaluates that subject for improvements in sperm count, if no improvement is made by the 18th birthday then the individual receives a vasectomy.  Geishan Warriors have not had a vasectomy, and have produced at least 1 male offspring.     

             Isn’t this just the pleasure pill in some book from the pre-shift era, my inner voice asks.  I push it aside as I focus in on our history and where we are.

             As throughout history understanding what women want is still a science that has yet to be perfected.  Needless to say this quest has actually kept men employed for centuries.  As I was taught women acted as magnetic poles, either pulling us up, or pulling us down.  We as men can determine which a woman is though.  A puller down or a puller up.  Puller ups are women that don’t need men.  What I mean by this is, women that live their life fully.  Pursue their passions relentlessly.  Exude enough confidence to attract a Geishan Warrior.  Purchase of a Geishan Warriors service is $50,000/week.  Due to inflation this would work out to about $5,000/week by 2010 standards.  Our job was to determine what would provide her with the ultimate in pleasure, and then make it happen for her.  However, the trick is that we as a self enforced rule do not share seed outside of breeding regulations.

             Breeding regulations stipulate that all approved breeders come to the breeding festival nearest them once per year during the solstice of our choice.  Our choice is the instruction we receive in breeding school.  This is where we receive our encoding for becoming a breeder.   

             Marketing the product is a cinch.  Acting, thinking, believing, portraying being the top guy and going after it.  For a Geishan Warrior is like a pimp of your 2010 standards.  Very flashy, much like a peacock.  He’s loud when he speaks, especially when cavorting with friends.  Men who are ruggedly good looking in an almost ugly way. Unkempt and unshaven enough to portray a man who doesn’t need vanity, but could use a haircut and a shave by most women’s standards.  This is known as his Glory.  Kept stylish enough to indicate a subtle sophistication ready for deployment his glory gave him his strength.  Bad men we were called in times past, these times we are honored for our glory.  Me I have the greatest glory of them all right now.  I was the first, therefore making me a master in this art.  Like all masters I have a pupil who I see greatness in.  However I also see great potential for evil in him.

             I’m cruising around the country side at 2 in the morning on an heirloom chopper.  All Geishan Warriors ride heirloom choppers.  Choppers handed down from father to son.  Representative of the quality seed we possessed.  The stars are out and I see tri-angles an infinite number of tri-angles.  I finally see what my father was singing about.  I’m 18 years old and I am finally free of breeding school and ready to take on the world.  I’m howling at the moon tonight old man! I shout it up at the stars before howling like a madman.  My preparation was complete; I was now free to move about the world for the first time.  No more pencils no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks.  I laughed as my hair billowed behind me.  Breeding school was like reform school for troubled kids.  It is a prison of children, keeping us locked away until we are finally set free to be as great as we are taught we are.  When you are bred to believe you are the greatest man that ever walked the earth next to Jesus Christ himself, buddies believe me; you’ll be ready to unleash yourself unto the world. 

             Breeding school tells you about your capabilities, but doesn’t let you pursue them.  It is a coddled backward dynamic that I have yet to figure out who could have thought of it.  You can do anything you dream of, but don’t touch that.  You are the greatest men of your generation, but you have to ask to go potty.  You are free.  You can’t leave the classroom until the bell rings and must report daily from 8-3, 7.30 if you ride the bus.  The hypocrisy was ghastly this should be the first order of business of the Geishan Warriors.  The lessons at school were even worse.  They put a beautiful car engine, or motorcycle in front of you.  The teachers provide manuals, blue prints etc of the whole motor.  We only get to touch the carburetor for the first 2 years of automotive technology.  Even then usually the teacher would do half the work for you and only explain it over and over.  Bolt theory, where you discuss the theory and physics of bolts, but never actually get to bolt something together.  This wasn’t such a bad deal when it came to understanding women’s fashions.  I don’t really see myself in a dress.  Female anatomy was the cruelest class of them all though.  The teachers would parade in a beautiful woman of perfect breeding age, naked in front of us, wanting us all, all of us wanting her, each man practicing his art of invoking the inner self, her writhing in pleasure before us, teasing us, seducing us testing our willpower.  They would try to control us through temptation of the flesh.  Some teachers succumbed to the wiles of their students; some students were unable to control themselves for the pleasure of the teacher.  Each was never seen again if caught.  Part of the Brother ensuring “safety for us all.”

             Finally I was free to build, tear apart, ride, or fuck anything I wanted.  Best part was I got paid for it.  All my needs provided for life by women with a ticking maternal clock that required tuning. Least that was the way I saw it.  My whole life to this point was focused on learning about how to provide for the needs and wants of women. It was up to me to decide how to put that in practice.  I was among the first to graduate of the first breeding school in all of history.  Evolved out of a post-shift society trying to rebuild a better future with no understanding of its’ past.

           “Now what?”  That was what the inspirational speaker had to say before being given our breeding license.  The speaker was a man who in my opinion epitomized how I envisioned the Geishan Warrior. An attitude of I’m going to accomplish all I dream, so when you’re done with one step, now what, you ask and move to the next goal.

             This was the essence of the breeder and would become the essence of the Geishan Warrior’s as well. 

             “Resistance!” he said.  “Resistance to the temptation of seduction is the key to our future survival.  A puller down, or negative energy goes after the base emotion of lust in order to ensnare a breeder into our off season breeding.  Out of season breeding would lead to uncontrolled increases in population.  Therefore breeders must learn to resist the release of seed.  Resist the desire to fertilize unfertile soil.  It was the unlicensed and unchecked breeding of the populace that lead to many of the woes we live in.  Governments collapsingFinancial infrastructures collapsing, populations collapse.  All rose to great heights, and all collapsed.  So does our universe according to the sacred laws of God.  We are still in the recovery phase, trying to mitigate what everyone wants in order to provide for the greatest good for the greatest number of people.  Trying to rebuild after the great disasters of pre-shift times your schooling gave you the key to the universe.  The door of opportunity is yours to unlock, now what? “

             Now what indeed I thought as I looked off that stage at the crowd full of strangers.  Many families were split apart during the shift.  Many parents left their children behind.  I was raised by my parents up until the shift, and then I was in school after that.  So I saw no-one I recognized in the crowd except disciplinarians. I was still able to learn a great deal from my parents though they were in another place.  My father was an author pre-shift.  Due to the shift many things became hard to find.  So I was only capable of finding some select stories.  He told stories of tough men facing tough times.  It was through the scattering of collected writings I was able to piece together and sort through the information that lead me to know my fathers intentions all along.

              Now I was free.  Now I could do anything I desired Now I would?  Now what indeed?  I was a grand find example of a man.  I had many potential interests.  I had done exceptionally well in every subject.  Nothing really challenged me so what could I do in a limitless Universe to serve the greater good?  What does one do with ultimate freedom?  The knowledge that you can do anything you set your mind and intentions to.  It can be done.  That’s what we were taught.  Gatherings of men individually allowed the greatest productivity and problem solving capacity available.  The same was true for women so the sexes had been segregated.  This way there were no more teen pregnancies.  I could now go to a unisex establishment.  This seemed like a great idea and a grand use of the now.  So off I rode to the finest establishment in the area. 

             I parked my scooter on the sidewalk and looked at all the expensive new machines parked out front.  New machines were machines built for transportation post shift.  Though many pre-shift transportation machines still existed new technology had to be adapted to them to work in the post shift era.  Mostly just people changed.  Now whole systems of operation were changing, new ways of getting things done.  New everything, for each day something new was created.  My generation represented the firsts of post shift adulthood.  We had a lot of responsibility.  I looked at the new machines and laughed.  The many different styles, colors, this was definitely the place for prospective clients.  Woman’s tendency toward vanity was illuminated by her style of dress, modes of transportation and method of expression.  This place had the markings of a main vain.  High-end new transportation.  New coating on the building and surrounding sidewalks.  The men and women walking in and out dressed in the latest new-clothes.  Probably cost enough to feed a person for a month on their shoes alone. 

             My clothes were all hand made.  Stitched, designed, and created all by me.  I was wearing a pair of double thick leather boots.  The leather came from the first deer I killed.  A soft yet rugged layer of leather coated the inside layer of each boot.  Stronger hide-on leather on the outside provided the greatest weather proofing.   Keeping the hide illuminated the givers glory.   The hair was still in perfect condition from the care of the leather.  I spend an hour each week caring for each boot.  My pants were made of cotton.  Hand made of fine scratch wool.  I mean, I made the wool from scratch.  Raised the sheep, sheared the wool, cleaned it, sorted it, put it on a hand loom and made pants out of it.  I put a nice layer of rabbit pelts on the inside to keep me comfortable.  Did you ever hear the joke about the bear and the rabbit shitting in the woods?  The bear looks at the rabbit and asks; do you have any problems with shit collecting in your fur?  The rabbit says no, so the bear picks him up and wipes his ass with it.  Rabbit lining, keeps shit from sticking to ya.  The shirt was made from bone with a down feather coating against the skin.  My riding jacket was a custom reclaim of an old tuxedo jacket I found.  I had it decorated with feathers on the arms, and quills form a porcupine lined the seams.  The seams were oversized using strips of deer hide.    My necklace was made from the tusk of a wild boar.  The knife on my hip made from bone and reclaimed steel, also made by me. I wore sunglasses made from polished crystals and a quick release leather thong.  My gloves were made from alligator skin, but lined with mink.  The fur and skin came from animals I trapped, killed, skinned, tanned and sewed.  On my 5’10 inch 150lb frame, with thick wavy purple hair I knew I wouldn’t leave the bar empty handed.  See when you know you can take care of yourself no matter what, the fear of a woman leaving you disappears.  In its stead is success, profit, happiness, unlimited sexual experiences.  Unlimited potential waited.  Women smell that potential on you and they can become putty at your feet.  Bringing you offerings for your attention, rather than the old way of men buying jewelry for what women had stored between their legs, in the new age men contained the potential to have women pay for their services.

             I could smell my prey inside.  Wafty musky scent of woman filled my nostrils.  They had a sense of me from the sound I made coming in.  Those walking in were already carrying my energy to the others to be disseminated around the room.  I had to stay focused.  Intent on prey I started to walk inside.   Imagining what I wanted for my first trophy.  I was on my first hunt of big game.  I was ready.  I was a Geishan Warrior.

             The higher the amount of vanity the easier the mark is to identify.  Properly insult a vain woman’s ego and you will win her undying affection.  Ignore her, the rules, and you’ll have her.  My offensive diffidence to the accustomed appearance of the regular crowd amplified my energy buzz the moment I walked in.  As I seated myself into a corner where I could watch my surroundings without fear of a rear attack I propped my feet up on the table and waited.  I surveyed the gathering hall, looking for the women who would do anything for a chance at my energy. 

             Like any hunting excursion hunting women requires patience and a willingness to pass up on the smaller fish in order to catch a whale.  A whale was what I called a woman who would finance me for at last 6 months.  Or until such time she began to pull me down, in which time I would move on to the next target. 

             The first woman who walked by me was a stunning blonde.  Makeup accented every potential beauty of her face.  She was a level 3 catch.  I had developed my own rating system.  Due to the inexperience of our schooling due to the new direction it was necessary for me to create a system of classification in order to find the prime breeding companion.  Only I wasn’t choosing them, they had to choose me.  Like a spider calls out to its prey to land on the pretty web I sent out my field of intent.  Come a little closer so I can eat you.  I grinned at the image that came to mind.  One I had seen in the classroom, but again was never allowed to sink my teeth into.  Got to keep the puns coming. Women like a man who is funny.  My look, my demeanor all had been developed to allow me to become the ultimate hunter. 

             I had struck up a lively conversation with the bartender when a level 4 stood beside me to order a drink.  I passed up the first catch, another sweeter bug lands on my web within moments.  I pay her a cursory glance, isolate her vanity point and disregard it.  This dark haired level 4 had a mammary focal point.  The level three before her was a facial focal point.  Comparing the two one could see in subtle ways what portion of their body and self they obsessive over tends to be the area they feel is the best trait they have.  Therefore they select new clothes that accentuate these things, hoping to attract an available mate.  For even though breeding is only allowed by certain men, each woman still wants a man around.  The shift did not yet erase the deeper fears that woman had about being alone either.  This was the subject the bartender and I discussed.  The new clothes, new cars, new makeup, all designed to supposedly enhance oneself through the image they send out.  Learning how to manipulate others so that we don’t feel alone because of the long evolution of fear that had been bred in us all was a challenging process for many.  Now we lived in an age where there was nothing to fear.  This in itself caused fear because people were unsure how to accept this change.

             Part of who I had become during school was a teacher.  A trainer of non-breeding class men to spread the power of pleasure my level 4 prey listened for a moment.  As she began to speak I asked her politely if she required anything from me, cutting her off before she said a full word.

 “Excuse me?” she said haughtily.

 “You’re excused” I replied.  She continued looking at me strangely not quit sure what to think of my behavior. 

 “If you do not require anything from me then please leave my space and do not interject yourself into my conversation.  If your presence is requested it will be asked to join in.  Otherwise you are just eavesdropping which is rude, so please leave.”  I said it with confident conviction.

             The entire time I never once looked at her mammary glands, though through her new clothes lights and colors tried desperately to hypnotize me.  Circulating as giant spinners around but this was no challenge for me.  Imagine an old black and white spinning wheel being turned, pulsing colored lights around her glands.  The bartender was almost drooling with lust as she exuded her scents, sounds and images of lust for me outward.  Her new clothes madly scrambled patterns of light and color across her body, desperately trying to attract some kind of attention from me in order to drain my energy.  I only stared her in the eyes.  With an exasperated look she turned and walked away.  Swirling lights of energy swayed around her buttocks as she walked away, her final desperate attempt at being noticed.

 “How did you do that?” the bartender asked.  He was an older man, one who had probably been a teenager during the shift.  As a young person I had greater understanding of the post shift world because I did not have other worlds to cloud my instincts.  His judgments and instincts were still behind in their great potential because he had fears from the old world.

 “Easy” I said.  “You simply have to learn to ignore the request for energy.” 

  He continued to look puzzled.  I continued to explain what I had learned. 

 “You see women want men just as much as we men want women.  The dirty little secret of your time was that women really had equal power over men all along, but men were led to believe they had no power.  Through the traditional methods of raising a child, men were emasculated more and more through the centuries.  This process led to more and more men using physical strength and fear to keep women around to provide care because we were led to believe we needed our parents to care for us.  The women truly wanted to be free from the man, and the man wanted freedom from the woman.  In the struggle between men and women we were causing greater struggles, war, greed, famine, pollution, all in an attempt to attract the women or men of our dreams.  Unfortunately because we were limiting how many people we could share our love energy with people constantly needed to invent ways of getting more.  Men cheated on their wives while locking the women up to prevent them from doing same thing.  All in some desire for control over another life.  Women, who raised men, raised them to need their motherly love, not accepting the love available without the need for control.  Men were raising daughters in desperate need of understanding from their father.  Neither party was getting what they wanted and desperately went out into the world to try and attract a mother or father again.”

 “So we were all like energy vampires?” asked the bartender.

 “Basically yeah, sucking life from one another instead of learning how to share life energy

 “So you are a pleasure vampire?  Giving pleasure as a means of killing off weakness and fear, rather than feeding on weakness and fear?”

 “That is correct sir!” I said with a smile.  I was becoming the teacher I envisioned already.

             I could sense the crowd of women behind me buzzing like bees without a queen.  Only it was a king they wanted.  A man to take care of everything for them, because they had been taught to believe they needed men to do this. All these women were pre shift era.  Most young women today were being trained for positions of leadership, or as breeders or caregivers in the new world.  The young women were being taught to be free from the old ways, just as I had been.  Competing here was not where I would find a post-shift woman. 

             These women were still clinging to the past through the use of the new-technology.  As I scanned the room the new dresses the women wore sparkled in a dazzling array of color.  The few men around wore new suits equally trying to accentuate certain aspects of their personality in hopes of finding a mate.  I shook my head in a sad pity on them all.  I began to focus my intent on every woman in the room. Singing my song and all enjoyed.  Soon all the dresses began to shimmer and pulse to the same rhythm.  Each piece of new clothes was turned the same colors.  I twisted images around the bodies of the women in order to create a scene straight out of my imagination, to the music I wrote, for the song of my life.  No-one in here had ever seen such large scale control of intention before.  The women cooed and awed, the men stepped away from them in fear and wonderment.  One woman become so angry at her lack of understanding what was happening she screamed and threw a glass on the floor.  Shattered it issued a million potential fragments.  Across the sea of dresses I created an image of the glass shattering and put it on a loop.  This sent the woman over the top, causing her to tear the dress from her body as she stormed out of the gathering place screaming at some hapless man that it was time to go and to get her things.  I laughed heartily at the tantrum; her vanity was her image of control.  My display shattered her image of control just as she shattered that glass on the floor.

             The building we were in was split into two distinct sections.  What you might call a bar, then an open room, like a dance floor where everyone was gathered milling around.  Trying to understand the world they were now in.  They huddled together like cattle for a sense of protection.  Each desperately trying to find themselves in order to fit into this strange new world we all lived in.  I let the cattle have back their need for self control and the new dresses and new suits went back to their wearers’ means of control.  Most sighed with relief from along with the wearer.  However I noticed numerous level 5 women maintaining the dance I had begun.  My prey was identifying itself to me.  My first night out and I had already attracted level 5’s.  I only had to maintain my intentions long enough to secure the deal.

             Some of the men were now coming to join me in the bar area.  Non-confrontational curiosity, they knew I could do something they couldn’t but wanted to learn.  Knowing that the women would only allow physical violence on their terms we became much more docile.  Going to fighting arenas in order to release aggression that we felt was only resolved through violence.  Women now controlled the army, the police the government in general.  Unnecessary use of force by men in anger was strictly prohibited; violation of such carried stiff penalties, even death.  Some regions of the world men were treated as slaves.  Women barbarically tried to overcome their fears through genital mutilation of men.  Some men were drugged and kept in a state of delirium providing for their women through exhaustive labor, catering to their whims.  Women castrating men to avoid growths in population and to remove the fear they held.  Knowing that one seed is all that is needed to provide all the growth the world needs created areas of panic.  Within twenty years we would be only using in-vitro fertilization according to leading developers of policy.  Work was underway to continue the control over seed.

             It was this kind of information I shared with the men who came to learn from me.  I respected their lack of understanding, and they respected my youth energy and power.  So we laughed, we bought rounds and rounds of new drinks.  I had told the bartender to begin putting all the drinks costs we men drank onto the tabs of the women who were carrying my song.  I further enticed my prey by putting the intention to care for me upon them.  We laughed, danced and were merry amongst ourselves.  Soon all the men in the room had joined together in the telling of tales and revelry in each others humor.  I stood on the table shouting at them that it was ok to just be men, because we had the pick of women.  Our powers lie in our seed.  Our female counterparts keep power in the fields we sew our seed into.  Why waste our seeds on bad soil.  Like raising crops a balanced harmonious soil is needed for optimum growth.  So as men we must learn to find women that will provide optimal sewing grounds.  I railed and ranted about the power these men would have.  I also taught them about the power that can be shared by pursuing their own path in life.  Men, I said, grab your loins with confidence and gather your flock.  Your harem of women that will serve you well if provided with unabashed pleasure awaits!  By denying them their power over you by retaining your seed, resist the urge to give yourself over.  As the men began hollering, and their vibrations reached a level of confidence and connection with their true self I shouted to the women to come join us.

             The entire scene transformed.  The new clothes became shining sparkling manifestations of the true self.  Animal skin replaced traditional clothing.  Cougar, fawn, lizard, horse, centaur, unicorn, ferries and trolls, the full potential self of all kinds radiated from the new clothes.  Enhancing the vibration of this gathering hall so it could become an ultimately pleasurable place for everyone to relax I moved about the room bringing piece with me.  Peacefulness and joy began to flow more smoothly about the room.   The men’s new suits dropped the dominating powerful tones, colors and shapes and adorned more open and inviting colors.  No longer separated or feeling the need to compete with one another had everyone in the room relaxing becoming their full self.  I watched my work and smiled.  Things were going even better than I imagined.  Finally I began rounding up my prey for the evening.  I called together all the women who had carried my tune until this point.  I was satisfied with what I had done to impact this environment for the better.  I could now allow myself to fully materialize because the surroundings had relaxed.  Fears had been assailed.  It was time to secure my future.  I continued to circulate around the room, making the women who maintained my energy wait.  I must feel them out, test their patience and ability to share my intent.  After about 3 hours of dancing, singing, wrestling and teaching I began to pick off the weak ones in the group I was gathering. 

             I walked around the room grabbing the women who continued to show my dance in their new clothes.  Over the past three hours I had drawn the group down to only 13 choices.  I went around to each and invited them to join me.  Once invited their new dresses instantly materialized into their full self image for me to enjoy and get to know them better.    It was not surprising to find I had gathered a herd of lionesses, jaguars, cheetahs, and other large cats.  I would have plenty of kitties to play with tonight.  We all sat at a large round table in the bar area.  A hum of good energy hung in the air thick like smoke. 

 “So which one of you beautiful women would like to have the privilege of my direct intentions for a week? I asked bluntly.  Putting what I want up front, a key to bargaining, allows me to control the offers. 

 “What do we get? Asked a sultry looking lovely.  She portrayed herself in fine feminine form.  The new dress accentuated her curves and lines in a red pulsing form.  Reminiscent of tiger fur she exuded sexuality.  Her long slender body draped across the floor beside me as she stretched herself out. 

 “Imagine if I took the energy needed to transform this room from what it was, to what it is now, focusing solely on pleasing you for one solid week.  Imagine how much you could transform into becoming that lady tiger you see yourself as right now.”  I focused my intention solely on her for a brief moment.  The smile and shudder of her body told her and every other potential donor what I could do.

 Then the negotiations began.

 This was difficult at first.  I had the theory of negotiation but had not had practical application before.  In breeding school there was no negotiation.  There simply was or wasn’t.  No room for negotiation existed.

 I determined after a few minutes of being offered, cash, jewelry, new motorcycles, new clothes, sexual pleasure that what I really wanted was submission.  I sought a chance to allow the full capacity of my potential to be unleashed upon my lucky patroness in the form of pleasure.  For a patroness was what I truly wanted.  I desired a patroness to provide the fertile fields necessary to accumulate my ultimate self. 

             See I was trained in breeding school what things pleased women in order to ensure proper acceptance of my seed.  We had found that orgasm and pleasure were necessary for proper health of the seed.  If a man were to implant his seed without providing pleasure and love to the woman the soil of her egg would not have pleasure or love available for the new arrival of life.  It was found to cause serious developmental disorders when love and pleasure were denied at the point of conception.  So as a breeder I was trained to please a woman physically, emotionally and spiritually in order to ensure the greatest success in breeding.  In order to be effective though I had to be true to my self, for if I was unable to be fully into myself at the time of releasing my seed then I deny my seed the capacity to have the full benefits of life I am transferring.  This knowledge and training gave me the confidence needed to be open as to what I, who had never actually touched a woman before tonight, could provide.

             As I made my intentions known women that disagreed simply left the negotiating table.  I did not chase them for someone would eventually accept my intentions I would accept hers and profitable exchange could be made.  As the negotiations continued I had to maintain a sense of indifference at which party accepted the offer.  If I were to create myself ultimately I must remain open to the knowledge that whoever remains will provide me with all I need.  Therefore I had to remain oblivious to the temptations of those who want what I have but may not be able to provide all that I needed in return which would cause an imbalance in the energy transfer.  So I waited as they asked questions and determined more and more what I would do for them if they chose to accept me.  I knew my first night I would end the evening with at least a pair of women to pleasure.  In return I would have new cars, new jewelry, new houses to stay in, and the freedom to be my ultimate self.

             In the end it was I and three women who were all open to allowing me to be fully aware.  It would be me that must decide which would be allowed my full intention, so tonight they would be required to fulfill my pleasures.  The three were starkly opposite.  One portrayed herself as a butterfly, her long aquamarine hair and sea blue eyes, combined with her tanned skin called to my urges.  She was about 5’11 and had an amazing ability with her tongue to drink life nectar that I could not wait to watch.  She would require a delicacy so as not to damage her gentle wings that would challenge my abilities in gentle ways.  Another was a panther.  Short dark hair, light eyes and ebony skinned she was several inches shorter than the butterfly but her body was muscular and I knew she would be a powerful woman fighting for the privilege with her sharp decorated claws, painted with swirling colors and swirling images. She would provide a physical exertion to her pleasing but would wear out quickly. The third lady was blonde, fair skinned tall at least 6 inches taller than me.  She portrayed herself as a serpent.  Ready to wrap her long frame around me and caress me with her ability to control her muscles and a great healing energy, she was a fine catch.  Her new dress presented me with dragon like scales.  She would be a great one to challenge my strengths but her venom was potent and would require me to be on my guard.

 “Well ladies, I will excuse myself from the negotiation table to utilize the bathroom.  Upon my return I expect that you will have a place for us all to retreat to in order to get better acquainted, unless you want to earn your pleasure here.”

 My dragon gave me a sly look and I knew she would bring the others together for a showdown that would be a testament to the greatness I was destined for.

             I went to the restroom cleansed my system and decided to keep my patroness waiting a little longer.  So I stopped by a kitchen in the back of the gathering hall and had the men there prepare some food for me.  I told them about the three women I had all waiting for me.  They laughed and scoffed at my ability to do so, but fed me just the same.  I thought about the evening and what I would like to see it progress to.

             As I quietly imagined the cat and serpent were in a heated exchange of energy.  Hissing, scratching biting each other openly.  Each girl tried desperately to gain the right to decide where we would go.  The butterfly flittered around the edge wondering where she could use that delicate tongue to intercede and get a taste.  When I got to the table I walked directly up to the butterfly and asked for her tongue.  Using my mouth and tongue I sent her the potential joys that lay ahead for the night to calm her fears.  It was firm and plump ready to receive.  She shivered cooed and smiled a knowing smile.  I then sat down between the serpent and kitty putting my arm around them both.  I called to the butterfly to come and join us.  Cat, dragon and lady butterfly I will meet you at the Excalibur hotel downtown.  Go together, check in, enjoy the services it offers and I bill join you there and allow each of you ample opportunity to enjoy my services.

“What name shall we leave the key under, asked my little butterfly?” 

“Conrad Von Supertramp” of course I said with a grin.  I walked out of the gathering hall, straddled my chopper and took off into the night.  As I ride off into the night, preparing myself for pleasure I look up at the stars.  Again I see all around me triangles.  I sing a little song as I pull off the sidewalk and into the street, leaving everyone wondering who I was and where I had come from and if they would ever see me again, I sung myself a little tune.  Tri-angles infinite number of triangles, for me to enjoy, tri-angles an important part of geometry, tri-angle an infinite number of tri-angles ba ba ba ba ba ba ba.

 To read more on the adventures of Conrad Von Supertramp and find out what happens next contact the Author at justin.kurtz@supertrampconsulting.com


One Response to “Rise of the Geishan Warrior: A look at our potential future.”

  1. […] a Comment » Conrad continued the vortex engine research begun when integrating learning with natural play in his […]

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