Climax part of a bigger story
Here’s the climax part of one of my stories. It’s about a man who in an hour of extreme danger realized that all his life he had wanted to be a woman. This desire had been hiding in his subconscious for years, and now it had finally come out. But unfortunately all he could do at that moment was to sexually assault the girl sitting next to him. At the bottom of the text is a link to the whole story, and if you wish, you can read it in full there.
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The plane gradually gained speed and took off. Ivan rested his head on the back of his seat and closed his eyes. The nightmare of the craziest day in his life was left behind. He had managed to get out of the cold river. Wet and chilly, he wandered through the woods until he reached a small train station. There he took the first train back to Kiev. Then he called his wife, set her at ease and promised to explain everything on arrival. Finally he flew home. Other than his conversation with Sergeant Kravets, he had not reported anything to the police yet. Perhaps he would do it later, in Lviv. Perhaps. Later. Some other time, not now. As for now, no more thinking about that insane Pontius Pilate, or whatever his real name was, and those psychopathic apostles. All measures against them were to be taken later. Right now he wanted only one thing: to go to sleep.
A light touch on his shoulder sent him awake. He opened his eyes to see a smiling stewardess.
"Excuse me, sir, are you Mr. Klimenko?"
"Yes, I am."
"Here's a note for you," the girl handed him a piece of paper folded in four and disappeared.
He unfolded the note and started reading.
"Dear Ivan,
I told you once before that nothing in the world could prevent me from fulfilling my holy destiny, but you did not take my words seriously. Moreover, you tried to avoid your own destiny. You tried to involve the police in our holy cause. You hoped they would help you. But the fact is that you really need no help from anyone, but we all need help from you. You know what happened to Sergeant Kravets? He was shot and killed by one of the fugitive outlaws. He was trying to protect the society from those criminals but luck wasn't on his side. He was a good policeman who never betrayed his duty, and who died like a hero. He was always willing to come to people's aid when they were in trouble, and he sincerely wanted to help you when you came to him. Now a wife has lost her loving husband and three kids will never see their caring father again. Who will be able to help them now? No one but you! Only you can change this world for the better.
Another act of violence is going to occur very soon. There are terrorists on board. In half an hour they will try to hijack the aircraft. There will be hostages, some of them will be killed. They are all innocent people and their fate is entirely in your hands. They need you! Your sacred destiny is to put an end to human insanity, an insanity that Earth can no longer tolerate.
I and three apostles - Andrew, Peter and James - are sitting four rows behind you. We have a collapsible cross with us. I'm pleased to inform you of our decision to crucify you right aboard the plane. Just think about it! Sacrificing yourself high in the heavens!
We really want you to do this of your own free will, without any compulsion, and because of that we give you five minutes to think about it. If, at the end of that time, we do not receive a positive answer, we will be forced to use brute force.
Ivan, don't be selfish but think about the fate of Mankind and show some courage!
Faithfully yours,
Pontius Pilate.
P.S. There's nowhere to run this time."
Ivan folded up the message, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and furtively turned around. Pilate greeted him with a nod of his head, smiling. Ivan quickly averted his gaze and felt his heart racing. He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
"It must be very painful to be nailed to a cross," he muttered aloud.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" his neighbor, a girl of about twenty-five, asked.
"I'm just thinking," replied Ivan without looking at the girl.
"About what?"
"About life, death, love and so on," Ivan turned to face the girl. "And you, by the way, do you love?"
"Yes," the girl smiled charmingly, "I have a husband and a daughter. She's only ten months old. I love them both."
"Yeah, I see. But my point is that everyone must love him-or-herself first and not let anybody infringe on their own right to life."
"Perhaps you're right," replied the girl and turned back to her "Cosmopolitan".
Ivan took a good look at his neighbor. She was beautiful. A brunette with blue eyes. He had always dreamed of an azure-eyed brunette in his erotic fantasies and reveries. Snow White. He thought of his wife, her ebony eyes and dyed colorless hair. What else in the world could be more vulgar and tasteless than that awful combination? Why the hell did he marry that incessantly clucking hen?
The girl's dress was short and tight enough to bring out all the appeal of her figure. Even now, in the moment of imminent danger, Ivan could not help but be enchanted by the dazzling femininity that radiated from the girl. His mesmerized gaze moved slowly from the fragrant, wavy hair that fell to her shoulders, then slid to the neat neck, lingered on the two seductive knolls hidden under her dress, and descended lower, along her slim waist. He appreciated the grace of her fingers as they slowly flipped through the pages of the magazine, and finally stopped his gaze on her legs, the seductive sight of which, disappearing beneath her dress, thrilled his libido and sent a wave of excitement through all his body. Snow White. More than once he watched adult cartoons with Snow White. But the Messiah can't watch such cartoons. Are they stupid enough not to understand that? But he always watched such things secretly, alone. How could they know he ever did it?
"Excuse me," the girl's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts, "may I pass?"
She rose, stepped out of the row, and walked gracefully down the aisle.
Like a supermodel on the catwalk, he thought. He imagined her without her clothes on. Naked Snow White walking down the catwalk toward the wooden cross on which he, also naked, was pinned with huge nails. Nails, nails, what would Freud have said about nails? Certainly he would have said something. A naked girl and nails. And then he knew. He knew what to do. That was the moment he saw a way out. There was no time to lose.
He got up, pulled off his jacket, tossed it down on his seat and followed the girl. She was about to close the door behind her, when he burst into the narrow space of the bathroom.
"What happened?" the girl screamed in fright.
"Nothing," he whispered, locking the door.
What happened next was a matter of seconds. Grabbing the girl by the throat with one hand, with the other he began to tear off her clothes. A few zealous tugs at the fabric and the torn dress slid down and fell at her feet. Another ripping movement and the panties landed atop the dress. His own pants and underpants descended to his knees.
She tried to break free, but a quick punch in the face stopped her. Blood gushed from her nose.
His penis stood erect. Like a nail from that chest on Calvary, he thought. His low-hanging scrotum dangled like a censer in the priest's hands.
He was about to thrust in, when the girl's knee flew up into his testicles.
"My balls, bitch!" he screamed in pain.
The sexual arousal at the sight of a naked girl, the killing pain in his balls, and the fear of being crucified, all mingled in his body and mind. His testicles injured, he wasn't able to enter her, but still kept a firm grip on her throat, holding his balls in his other hand. He tore his hand off his scrotum and pushed the girl down onto the toilet, and at once began jerking off speedily with the same hand.
He moaned and groaned in frenzied passion, as his trembling hand slid to and fro along his erected dick and his greedy eyes tried to see the very spot on her body, where he'd wanted to thrust in only a few seconds ago, and that was hidden now between her pressed together legs.
"Show me your pussy!" he roared, feeling that once his balls were free of their load, the pain in them should subside.
He squeezed the girl's throat harder to make her spread her legs.
His childhood complexes and dreams, long forgotten and deeply hidden in the back rooms of his mind, at once awoke in him. Freud was right. It all starts in childhood. The sight of the girl's shaven pussy reminded him that when he was four years old, he wanted to be a girl. He wanted to have such a slit between his own legs. He hated his wienet and balls then. He hated them now. Especially his unbearably aching balls. They should unload their cargo as soon as possible. He kept on jerking off madly.
He couldn't tear his gaze off the girl's body. Snow White! He wanted to be Snow White himself. Not Jesus but Snow White. He somehow knew this sort of feeling was called Vagina Envy. One more glimpse at the girl's pussy and the blissful sight didn't take long to lead him to a blissful eruption.
Blood was still flowing from the girl's nose, when a squirt of cum flew right into her face.
A deep exhale of relief escaped from his chest. His penis gone flaccid, he let go of the girl's throat. He looked down. His balls were still dangling down there, still aching like hell. He was no Snow White.
He leaned against the door and looked at the girl. She sat on the toilet, sobbing and crying. Her shaking hands covered her bleeding nose and tear-swollen, cum-smeared face.
"Oh, God," he groaned and shook his head, "You know I didn't mean to.., but now I can't help them. I can't. No way."
He pulled on his pants and tucked in his shirt stained with the girl's blood.
"I'm really sorry," he touched the girl's shoulder. "You kneed me in the balls, but you know, I should've been born a girl. Snow White, like you. That guy, Pontius, he just didn't know it. He wanted to crucify Snow White. What a stupid man. But it really hurts to be kneed in the balls. Girls don't understand. I wish there were a magic apple to bite and become Snow White.
He opened the door, walked out of the bathroom and slowly staggered to his seat, holding his balls in his hand, and not paying any attention to the armed men, who stood in the aisle and shouted something loud and angry to the passengers…
The whole story may be read here:
https://www.wattpad.com/story/340573004
Here's also a story from my childhood:
https://www.wattpad.com/story/376633734
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The plane gradually gained speed and took off. Ivan rested his head on the back of his seat and closed his eyes. The nightmare of the craziest day in his life was left behind. He had managed to get out of the cold river. Wet and chilly, he wandered through the woods until he reached a small train station. There he took the first train back to Kiev. Then he called his wife, set her at ease and promised to explain everything on arrival. Finally he flew home. Other than his conversation with Sergeant Kravets, he had not reported anything to the police yet. Perhaps he would do it later, in Lviv. Perhaps. Later. Some other time, not now. As for now, no more thinking about that insane Pontius Pilate, or whatever his real name was, and those psychopathic apostles. All measures against them were to be taken later. Right now he wanted only one thing: to go to sleep.
A light touch on his shoulder sent him awake. He opened his eyes to see a smiling stewardess.
"Excuse me, sir, are you Mr. Klimenko?"
"Yes, I am."
"Here's a note for you," the girl handed him a piece of paper folded in four and disappeared.
He unfolded the note and started reading.
"Dear Ivan,
I told you once before that nothing in the world could prevent me from fulfilling my holy destiny, but you did not take my words seriously. Moreover, you tried to avoid your own destiny. You tried to involve the police in our holy cause. You hoped they would help you. But the fact is that you really need no help from anyone, but we all need help from you. You know what happened to Sergeant Kravets? He was shot and killed by one of the fugitive outlaws. He was trying to protect the society from those criminals but luck wasn't on his side. He was a good policeman who never betrayed his duty, and who died like a hero. He was always willing to come to people's aid when they were in trouble, and he sincerely wanted to help you when you came to him. Now a wife has lost her loving husband and three kids will never see their caring father again. Who will be able to help them now? No one but you! Only you can change this world for the better.
Another act of violence is going to occur very soon. There are terrorists on board. In half an hour they will try to hijack the aircraft. There will be hostages, some of them will be killed. They are all innocent people and their fate is entirely in your hands. They need you! Your sacred destiny is to put an end to human insanity, an insanity that Earth can no longer tolerate.
I and three apostles - Andrew, Peter and James - are sitting four rows behind you. We have a collapsible cross with us. I'm pleased to inform you of our decision to crucify you right aboard the plane. Just think about it! Sacrificing yourself high in the heavens!
We really want you to do this of your own free will, without any compulsion, and because of that we give you five minutes to think about it. If, at the end of that time, we do not receive a positive answer, we will be forced to use brute force.
Ivan, don't be selfish but think about the fate of Mankind and show some courage!
Faithfully yours,
Pontius Pilate.
P.S. There's nowhere to run this time."
Ivan folded up the message, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and furtively turned around. Pilate greeted him with a nod of his head, smiling. Ivan quickly averted his gaze and felt his heart racing. He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
"It must be very painful to be nailed to a cross," he muttered aloud.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" his neighbor, a girl of about twenty-five, asked.
"I'm just thinking," replied Ivan without looking at the girl.
"About what?"
"About life, death, love and so on," Ivan turned to face the girl. "And you, by the way, do you love?"
"Yes," the girl smiled charmingly, "I have a husband and a daughter. She's only ten months old. I love them both."
"Yeah, I see. But my point is that everyone must love him-or-herself first and not let anybody infringe on their own right to life."
"Perhaps you're right," replied the girl and turned back to her "Cosmopolitan".
Ivan took a good look at his neighbor. She was beautiful. A brunette with blue eyes. He had always dreamed of an azure-eyed brunette in his erotic fantasies and reveries. Snow White. He thought of his wife, her ebony eyes and dyed colorless hair. What else in the world could be more vulgar and tasteless than that awful combination? Why the hell did he marry that incessantly clucking hen?
The girl's dress was short and tight enough to bring out all the appeal of her figure. Even now, in the moment of imminent danger, Ivan could not help but be enchanted by the dazzling femininity that radiated from the girl. His mesmerized gaze moved slowly from the fragrant, wavy hair that fell to her shoulders, then slid to the neat neck, lingered on the two seductive knolls hidden under her dress, and descended lower, along her slim waist. He appreciated the grace of her fingers as they slowly flipped through the pages of the magazine, and finally stopped his gaze on her legs, the seductive sight of which, disappearing beneath her dress, thrilled his libido and sent a wave of excitement through all his body. Snow White. More than once he watched adult cartoons with Snow White. But the Messiah can't watch such cartoons. Are they stupid enough not to understand that? But he always watched such things secretly, alone. How could they know he ever did it?
"Excuse me," the girl's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts, "may I pass?"
She rose, stepped out of the row, and walked gracefully down the aisle.
Like a supermodel on the catwalk, he thought. He imagined her without her clothes on. Naked Snow White walking down the catwalk toward the wooden cross on which he, also naked, was pinned with huge nails. Nails, nails, what would Freud have said about nails? Certainly he would have said something. A naked girl and nails. And then he knew. He knew what to do. That was the moment he saw a way out. There was no time to lose.
He got up, pulled off his jacket, tossed it down on his seat and followed the girl. She was about to close the door behind her, when he burst into the narrow space of the bathroom.
"What happened?" the girl screamed in fright.
"Nothing," he whispered, locking the door.
What happened next was a matter of seconds. Grabbing the girl by the throat with one hand, with the other he began to tear off her clothes. A few zealous tugs at the fabric and the torn dress slid down and fell at her feet. Another ripping movement and the panties landed atop the dress. His own pants and underpants descended to his knees.
She tried to break free, but a quick punch in the face stopped her. Blood gushed from her nose.
His penis stood erect. Like a nail from that chest on Calvary, he thought. His low-hanging scrotum dangled like a censer in the priest's hands.
He was about to thrust in, when the girl's knee flew up into his testicles.
"My balls, bitch!" he screamed in pain.
The sexual arousal at the sight of a naked girl, the killing pain in his balls, and the fear of being crucified, all mingled in his body and mind. His testicles injured, he wasn't able to enter her, but still kept a firm grip on her throat, holding his balls in his other hand. He tore his hand off his scrotum and pushed the girl down onto the toilet, and at once began jerking off speedily with the same hand.
He moaned and groaned in frenzied passion, as his trembling hand slid to and fro along his erected dick and his greedy eyes tried to see the very spot on her body, where he'd wanted to thrust in only a few seconds ago, and that was hidden now between her pressed together legs.
"Show me your pussy!" he roared, feeling that once his balls were free of their load, the pain in them should subside.
He squeezed the girl's throat harder to make her spread her legs.
His childhood complexes and dreams, long forgotten and deeply hidden in the back rooms of his mind, at once awoke in him. Freud was right. It all starts in childhood. The sight of the girl's shaven pussy reminded him that when he was four years old, he wanted to be a girl. He wanted to have such a slit between his own legs. He hated his wienet and balls then. He hated them now. Especially his unbearably aching balls. They should unload their cargo as soon as possible. He kept on jerking off madly.
He couldn't tear his gaze off the girl's body. Snow White! He wanted to be Snow White himself. Not Jesus but Snow White. He somehow knew this sort of feeling was called Vagina Envy. One more glimpse at the girl's pussy and the blissful sight didn't take long to lead him to a blissful eruption.
Blood was still flowing from the girl's nose, when a squirt of cum flew right into her face.
A deep exhale of relief escaped from his chest. His penis gone flaccid, he let go of the girl's throat. He looked down. His balls were still dangling down there, still aching like hell. He was no Snow White.
He leaned against the door and looked at the girl. She sat on the toilet, sobbing and crying. Her shaking hands covered her bleeding nose and tear-swollen, cum-smeared face.
"Oh, God," he groaned and shook his head, "You know I didn't mean to.., but now I can't help them. I can't. No way."
He pulled on his pants and tucked in his shirt stained with the girl's blood.
"I'm really sorry," he touched the girl's shoulder. "You kneed me in the balls, but you know, I should've been born a girl. Snow White, like you. That guy, Pontius, he just didn't know it. He wanted to crucify Snow White. What a stupid man. But it really hurts to be kneed in the balls. Girls don't understand. I wish there were a magic apple to bite and become Snow White.
He opened the door, walked out of the bathroom and slowly staggered to his seat, holding his balls in his hand, and not paying any attention to the armed men, who stood in the aisle and shouted something loud and angry to the passengers…
The whole story may be read here:
https://www.wattpad.com/story/340573004
Here's also a story from my childhood:
https://www.wattpad.com/story/376633734
