Relativity Theory Pt 01

Hey, all. This is the first story I've ever published on this site. It's what I hope is a fun sci-fi story.

The basic premise is that the protagonist finds himself thrust two hundred years or so into the future, a world where the sexual mores have loosened to levels that would be considered obscene in the 21st century, with women wearing ever more provocative clothing. Yet, just as today, it's considered politically incorrect to regard a woman's clothing as sending any message in and of itself about the wearer's openness to being touched or gawked at, no matter how lewd their dress or suggestive their behaviour may seem to the observer.

The protagonist will have to learn how to navigate this new world and control himself quickly. He will start off unlikeable, depending on your sex political leanings, and will go through what some would consider personal growth. Whatever your leanings, please take this for the fun it's intended to be. It may seem at times that I am caricaturing a view, but I assure you this is not a satire, nor does it contain any kind of message (for or against any view) beyond what I say explicitly.

This story was inspired by this piece from artist Nil Sunna, and like a lot of my stories probably will be, by Salamando_Flame's tease-heavy Sex Magick world, though without any magic-induced teasing.

Chapter 1 - Drowning

"You're drowning," she said.

"I'm sitting in a chair talking to my court-mandated therapist, which I have been doing every week for the last 4 months. Come on, Ruby, I've learnt my lesson, what's holding you back from letting me free? I know you love seeing my beautiful face every week, but if you really loved me, you'd let me free."

Of course she responded how she always did, with that grating sound of pen on paper on clipboard during a court-mandated therapy session. I don't give a shit what people think of me, but why does she always have to let me know in that haughty way? Did I mention this was court-mandated?

I guess I should stop calling her by her first name, like she'd told me to, and she'd know I was serious. Then again, Dr. Kraus sounds so formal.

Honestly, it pisses me off that judges hand this shit out for the tiniest offence. I touched one girl, as far as they knew, and I had to open myself up to some stranger every week until she _deemed_ me fit — and of course it's a woman, it always is; bias, much? What pisses me off is that the term "grope" kept getting thrown around, but it was open-handed. Anyway, I'm not sure how mandated therapy isn't more of a violation than a playful open-handed spank, but I guess that's the world we live in nowadays. Times move fast.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a villain. I don't go around slapping every which girl on the buttocks, but if it invites me, I'm not gonna turn it down. She was in a nightclub, shaking her ass around, and then she gets mad at me for spanking her. Okay, maybe I should have stopped after she turned around and glared at me, but all I did was poke fun at her attitude a bit by getting in one last — very light — spank, just to say, "Come on, lighten up!" If she'd put her foot down then, I'd have backed off, and even apologised, I swear, but she had to overreact by calling the police. I guess my town has a feminist sheriff — sheriffess? — who musta been hurt by a man in her past.

"What's going through your head?", she snapped me out of my reverie. God, I hate when she does that.

"Nothing."

"Hmmm..." she studied me with what, if I didn't know better, I might have taken as genuine pity, without any conceit. "Right then, time's up. See you next week." She definitely likes me.

I stood up, making a show of stretching myself and headed out of the room, leaving her to do whatever she liked to do alone whenever I left.

Chapter 2 - Deeper

I left that afternoon in a pretty good mood, only for it to be dampened as I discover it was pouring as if it were monsoon season. I didn't drive, as I've never really been an outgoing type of person. I guess that's why I've only "groped" one girl, as far as they knew. I had no choice but to wait in the building, as my bus stop was over 10 minutes away on foot.

Three hours later, and the rain showed no sign of letting up. I had 27% left on my phone, and I was getting more and more irate. Ruby had come out of her office, and she glanced at me as she walked past. When she reached the revolving doors, she rushed to her car and sat down. I really wanted to ask her for help, but knowing my luck, she'd take it as an approach and add a few more weeks to my sentence.

I realised she was staring at me through her car as her windscreen wipers went off at 50 miles an hour. Then, she looked away and started getting ready to leave. I guessed she decided not to help me, then I felt my phone vibrating. I picked it up and she was calling me.

"Hello?"

"Get in. I checked it out, the weather's not gonna get better any time soon. You'll be soaked and then it'll get worse. Just get in my car, for heaven's sake."

So I got in. I was still pretty wet when I slammed the door shut.

"That's what she said," I thought, as a wry smile crept on my face. Ruby looked at me and looked about ready to push me back out again.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, or I'll add a few more sessions."

I knew from experience that when she said "a few", it was an understatement, so I kept on my best behaviour. The drive home was pretty silent. Not cold, exactly, but I think even she was holding back from crossing any lines. This was strictly a humanitarian car pool. We reached the bridge about half an hour later, and visibility was still pretty bad. It was halfway across the bridge that we realised at the last second, a truck was barrelling towards us.

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE DRIVING THE WRONG WAY!"

Women, man! Fucking women! The driver let out a loud, prolonged honk as both vehicles swerved. Of course, both swerved in the same direction, and the truck stood on two wheels for a precarious minute. It took me 45 seconds to realise that so were we, and that this whole minute was actually an adrenaline-stretched second. The truck swerved again, but we kept going, and as we reached the edge of the bridge, somehow — don't ask me how — the truck flipped our tiny little car on its

back

, over the edge of that crappy bridge.

As our car fell down to the foreboding river below, my brain gave me a fleeting reminder that I'd voted for the candidate who'd spoken — convincingly at the time, I thought — against "spending our hard earned tax dollars maintaining a bridge that approximately 10 people use every week."

We hit the river, and for a split second, I thought I was dead, before I looked over to see Ruby bleeding profusely, but conscious and scrambling to unlock the doors. I knew this river was pretty deep, and there was no point fighting the water in this ominous rain, but most importantly, I saw a light that we seemed to be gravitating towards, and I resolved that I would at least die peacefully. That light signalled good things, I was sure.

"

Now

I'm drowning," I thought. "Now

we're

drowning."

"Man, she really doesn't want to die."

"Am I a bad person for not helping her? Did I live a bad life?"

The final thought I had before I fell unconscious was, "Fuck, I'm horny!"