Ex-Lax and Videotape

I did a bad thing once. My ex girlfriend cheated on me with the town douche. Not once, but three times. What was weird about the situation was this guy’s audacity.  Let’s call him Chris to keep shit simple and we’ll call my ex Donna. This is my story about how I got back at Chris for sleeping with Donna and how I look back in amazement at my creativity.

At the time, it had been two years since Donna and I broke up.  She still called on occasion but I never answered.  I was at an Irish pub minding my own business with a few friends.  In walks Chris, the guy who used to pleasure himself at my expense.  Good looking yet no ambition and zero brains.  Sort of like a model home, Chris was all outward appearances.  He had, and has, absolutely nothing going for him except his looks and his uncanny ability to piss someone off.  Take if from this anus: If you really want to upset a guy, sleep with his girlfriend and then rub it in his face.

“That guy over there bought you a shot,” said the bartender as he slides a pink colored shot glass in front of me. He pointed to Chris and his friends, who were raising their glasses to me.  “What is this?” I asked.  “It’s called Donna’s sweet pussy,” the bartender said as if he was reading from a script.  Hasn’t he had enough fun at my expense?  He fucks my ex three times while I’m dating her and has the nerve to rub it in 2 years later.  Being a good Christian, I wanted to let things go.  But not any longer.  He now woke the sleeping giant.

At the time, her phone number was a 908 area code.  You don’t see many of those now that 732 has taken over most of the Jersey Shore.  “Caroline, it’s Ken.”  That’s all she needed to hear.  Caroline was a close friend of mine who was so attractive that gay men reconsider the closet.  A while back I did her a big favor and she was in debt to me.  We hatched a plan and by next Thursday night began to exact my revenge.

Supplies: A video camera, blind fold, hand cuffs, ankle cuffs, one adult diaper, ex-lax and $7.  You may wonder how $7 fits in with the other items.  At this particular bar, $7 was the exact amount for a vodka tonic (Chris’s drink of choice) and tip. Caroline looked amazing; I could see her with my binoculars from the street.  Chris was there every Thursday night and since Caroline was from the Shore, he’d never seen her before.  I watched as she wooed him with ease.  After a few drinks, she grabbed his hand, led him outside and into her car.

That was my cue: when she gets him in the car, there was 45 minutes of foreplay and driving around before she brings him to a hotel room I rented out for the night under a fake name.  I headed back to the hotel room and got to work.  It took me less than 5 minutes set up the camera and shackles.  All that was left to do was hide in the closet, crack the door and enjoy the show.

Right on time, the door busted open and Caroline let Chris fall on top of her.  She eventually undressed and convinced him to do the same.  Caroline started to play hard to get and convinced Chris to allow her to shackle him naked by the wrists and ankles to a make-shift torture rack (courtesy of me). The last step before things got dirty was the blindfold and I remember his face, the face of my enemy, as he smiled one last time as his world went dark.

She makes him a vodka tonic with ex lax and gives him some refreshment through a twisty straw as a I put on his adult diaper.  It’s around this time he noticed that it’s not just Caroline in the room.  “What the fuck is going on?”  We never answered him.  I took out the camera and set it on a tripod.  There he stood.  Naked, in an adult diaper, about to shit himself on camera and I thought, “Is what I’m doing wrong?”

I gave Caroline a hug and thanked her for everything.  She left and headed back to the Shore as I went back to the hotel room.  I’m not sick enough to actually watch it happen.  By the time I returned, the diaper was brown and tears ran down his face.  I found his cellphone in his jean pocket and texted his friend the hotel and room # to pick up him up.  Knowing full well how much trouble I could be in for what I had done, I didn’t care.  After packing my equipment in a duffel bag, I lifted his blindfold and held up the videotape.  “If I ever hear of you sleeping with someone’s girlfriend, I promise to release this tape.  Do we understand each other?”  He understood.

To this day, no one has seen the tape and when I see Chris, he treats me with the respect that comes with fearing someone.  My advice to anyone whose had their heartbroken under similar circumstances: It’s always your girlfriend’s fault, but if the dude involved rubs it in your face, you have the rite to shackle his wrists and ankles and make him shit himself on camera in an adult diaper while he cries like a little girl… and video tape it for the good of society.