She left forgetting to take her clothes with me. I was upset, angry, and hurt. I did the only thing I knew that would bring me pleasure, masturbation.... must of beat my meat stick a half dozen times. I found myself wanting off to shemales and then gay porn. By that evening, my flesh was raw and I had rubbed a sore just under my tip from all the unlubricated friction. I washed it gingerly in the shower, dried off, drank some water, and crashed on my bed naked around 11:35ish... exhausted, tired,. One of my beloved fungi was showing promise in the area of anti-depressants, making the patient mellow and calm, it still had a few side effects to iron out. Still a long way off clinical trials of course, years if we can't sort out a few bugs. One of the worse was it makes the patient disorganized and so mildly open to suggestion, not a lot but too much for the powers that be.It was like a light bulb going off in my head. I couldn't sleep thinking about what I could do with the sample I had. "That tells me that you don't take this seriously. Which means we have to show you just how seriously it is." Staring into his own gagged, drooling face, he starts to tremble. "I can feel you shaking." She says as she rises up off him. "You're scared and you should be." Once she's off him he can see Monica standing there behind him and off to one side, flexing a cane between her hands. She smiles and says "Remember, it's O.K. to cry." Just then Mistress Jennifer appears on the. We haunted art galleries and I had to listen to endless discussions on the differences in techniques used by Manet and Monet, the brush strokes of Villbert versus the daub and smear of Rachmann. We had season tickets to the opera and the symphony. Some of it took and some of it didn't, but the result was that by the end of high school my reputation as a nerd was well established.Also well established was my reputation as Mr. Nice Guy. My parents had hammered at good manners and proper behavior.