Back in my post-college pre-real life days, my mate got me a job in a sex shop
. It was cash in hand, so I could still claim the dole
at the same time, and have plenty of money to go out with.
At first, it was great. We had a wide selection of porn, sex toys, magazines, videos, equipment, dolls, the usual thing. We prided ourselves on having the most bizarre, exotic shit from all over the world, bring the sexual deviancies of all other cultures together under one semen stained roof.
But then it all started to go wrong. The boss got religion, which always fucks anyone up. He started saying weird shit, like we couldn't stock anything that might injure people - so the Mexican anal piano wire had to go, along with the inflatable compressed air ben-wa balls, the Wank-O-Vomit, and the auto-erotic asphyxiation kit. Then he was all like, hey guys, what if a mother came in and saw Pregnant Bitch Monthly, how do you think she'd feel? And what if a nun came in and got offended by Wimples Filled With Cum, or what if an officer of the RSPCA came in and saw a VHS copy of Donkey FuckWhores 12?
It got weirder. He started insisting on all natural women in the porno flicks - no silicone, no face lifts, none of that. Busty blonde babes were out, unless we could prove they were *natural* busty blonde babes. Then it was all, no facials, no blowjobs, no mouth to genital contact, no money shots, no erect penises, no penetration. I mean, Christ, what porno flick isn't full of blonde chicks sucking cock and getting their huge fake tits covered in sperm?
Slowly but surely, we scaled back our selection. Some days the bin men wouldn't know what was going on, seeing deflated sheep and nun dolls poking out of the dumpsters. The local perverts had a field day, they'd start hanging around at night, waiting to pounce on what we were throwing away.
After a while, it didn't even look like a sex shop any more. The magic was gone, along with the Jesus dildoes and the camel speculums. I started to feel dirty when I looked at porn now, instead of empowered and turned on. So I went there one night, and burned the fucker to the ground.
Two weeks later, when the police came to question me, I learned that some kids had been in there at the time, punk teenagers looking to steal some porn. They all died later in hospital, in terrible, agonising pain. I didn't care. I felt cleansed. Pure. Filled with the light.