A Night to Remember by Anonymous

“The party is going off without a hitch!,” Ellen said to herself as she adjusted some of the hors d'oeuvres that had migrated to inappropriately aligned spots on the banquet table. She took a second glance at the now perfected table that stretched itself along the backwall of her luxurious Bay Area home. She smiled at her own image reflected in the glass of a hanging painting--Rosie the Riveter’s reflected and flexed arm wrapped Ellen’s head underneath the glass like a Stonecold Steve Austin finishing move. Yes I can!

Ellen Pao had become CEO of Reddit and in less than a month, she had consolidated power like a Mongolian warlord.

Ellen Khan-Pao.

She liked the sound of it. All will tremble in her wake! She chuckled under her breath as she moved from the table to check on her party guests. All of the movers and shakers were there as expected: Corporate sponsors traded business cards and jokes, her lawyer stood before a small hand-picked cadre of the most elite administrators decked out in the latest high-end San Francisco boutique fashions. They sipped on microbrews and bubblies as the advocate beamed about how he was going to win the ongoing $16 million legal battle for his empress all the while she shaped Reddit into an ideological playing field for sponsors. The admins nodded like catholic priests, assured of their own superiority over the disgusting hordes of users who cried about their feelings on “free speech” and “censorship.”

Her lawyer continued with his captive audience.

“Free speech is a huge problem on our site. People can’t just say what they want. Otherwise we give rights to racists, misogynists, and bigots! I mean, who wants to hear what they have to say? We need to create a safe space.”

An administrator known as “Cupcake” to some lowered her glass of Bolinger 2002 and spoke up.

“As someone who is on the ground dealing with these, if you want to call them ‘people,’ it is true that racism and bigotry are rampant on our site and something needs to be done about it! If a user can’t accept that women or minorities are constantly bullied and murdered in our streets, then they shouldn’t be allowed on Reddit!,” she exclaimed through thin cruel llips. She shifted her weight to give her tampon string some slack. It always wriggled its way out of her panties during parties. She could never figure out why.

She received a smile from Administrator Dacvak as she pursed her lips for another sip of her champagne. He had wanted to fuck her since the day he laid eyes on her. She had toyed with him during her entire admin stint with the company and she still was as a redditor. Her small pert breasts tortured him now and he tore himself back to concentrate on the social justice sermon he was now receiving. Ellen strode past catching eyes left and right as she made her way to the back of the party. As she rounded the lap pool she swam naked in daily (teasing the Mexican landscapers with glimpses of her neatly trimmed quim no doubt), she neared a small group of angry looking youth who if not for the shadows of the backyard, would have stood out like Road Warrior villains amongst the Silicon Valley yuppies who dominated the inside of the party.

An “Ellen!” emanated from somewhere inside the huddled group and an individual who ironically looked like Toe-Cutter stood up. The oddly small yet hulking mass rose with beer in hand and made its way towards Ellen. The group parted to allow the two to embrace each other.

“IrbyTremor. I am so glad you were able to make it sweety,” Ellen cooed as she eyed the rabble that observed them.

They embraced for several seconds. Irby remarked at how toned Ellen’s lythe body felt against xers. Her eyes dropped down to Ellen’s small breasts, the gumdrop nipples strove to free themselves of the thin covering of silk, stimulated by such a strong embrace by one of the most powerful mods to grace the subs of Reddit. Ellen would never admit this of course, but her body told the crowd a different story. Irby broke the silence.

“Its about time we all met, Ellen. This is Jess_Than_Three, TAKEitTOrCIRLCJERK, IamANOOBIE, Quietuus, BipolarBear0, HarrietPotter, and last up, SaltyChristian.” They all signaled to her in their own way, raising a hand, a chin, or a glass towards her.

“There’s various other elites out and around, not sure where they are.” Most of the powermods were roaming the party stuffing snacks and treats into their fanny-packs. Full Time modding was so demanding that most of them couldn’t give up the time for a real job.

Ellen started. “You all represent what Reddit should be: Intersectional Feminists, self-hating male feminists, Transgenders, power-hungry nerds as well as some up-and-comers who hope to gain some kind of weird notoriety,” Ellen boasted. “You battle the destructive nature of the male, the patriarchy, the keirarchy. And you offer a place of hope for those who have none in real life. And lastly, you have protected me from slander, ridicule, and the ridiculousness that I am facing with this unjustness of the trial. I deserve that fucking money. I was harassed for fuck’s sake! I have goals! I have desires! Why can’t people accept that!? I put time in with the firm. They owe me!”

Ellen stopped herself and crossed her arms, immediately feeling vulnerable in the sudden recognition of her own mental instability and the silent eyes that were now devouring her silhouette, barely hidden behind sheer fabric. Her well-kempt bush signaled its presence under her thin slacks under the cool pool lighting.

Jess and Circlejerk stood up recognizing their new overlord needed comfort and they began a group hug. Irby sipped xer Pabst and put it down, reaching up past healthy bitch tits to run thick fingers through xer afro.

“We know what you are going through. We deal with it on a daily basis. Our persecution knows no bounds,” Irby said. “We are the vanguards of a new era. Chosen to usher in a new rule against a corrupt, male-dominated society.” BipolarBear0 adjusted his pear shaped body to sit upright. He was one of these male-dominators and had been programmed to be atent when spoken about, to offer his agreement when it was called upon or face the wrath of the trannies. Ellen knew these people were no vanguard. They resembled more a band of mutant outcasts. And not the cool kind of mutants. She exhaled into the embrace of limbs. It didn’t matter. A vanguard is a vanguard and she would need these warriors to propel her to the top. The embrace finally ended after several minutes, leaving Ellen’s body flush with excitement.

Quietuus, a small and frail young man who looked sickly with cancer finally said something after having looked pained for several minutes while generating the courage to speak.

“I think we all want the same thing here Miss Pao.”

“Go on.”

Quietuus turned his oblong skull to face his group, a blue-veined partly deflated balloon tied to a thin stick of tightly-wound flesh. They urged him to speak.

“We, the SRS, the SRD, the SJWs, we want immunity in the Reddit community. But we need your approval for it. You want control of the company and you need to win the lawsuit. But you need us to stop the barrage of libel against you in certain subreddits that is garnering national attention. I believe this is a mutual relationship we can all benefit from. We have done our best to indoctrinate the Reddit admin staff, our ideological agenda is succeeding in ways we didn’t anticipate. But, we still have a long way to go.”

His British accent trailed off into a small cough. Ellen thought he was going to pass out standing up, a skeleton blanketed in black jeans and a black Bauhaus t-shirt. He was spent. A a junior SJW BluePill mod stepped forward as if to catch him. She helped lay him down on a bench and he sighed deeply, relieved the ordeal of speaking was finished.

Ellen looked down at him and was reminded of the infamous alien autopsy photos. She looked up at Irby.

“Well?”, Irby inquired.

Ellen looked at the rest of the group who somehow were fused with the shadows of the backyard, barely seeing their twisted faces in the dark. She nodded in affirmation that she was in.

“Yes!” exclaimed Circlejerk. Smiles appeared out of the darkness. Pasty-white limbs could be seen in embracing postures.

“On one condition!” followed Ellen. The smiles relaxed.

“This relationship can never be formalized. This conversation never happened,” Ellen warned.

They all agreed and shook hands, exchanged hugs, embracing each other in the darkness as the party continued on unknowing of the informal cabal circlejerk in the back. She was able to finally get away from the maw of social justice, and made her way back to her party. The shadows receded further from the light as she rounded the pool towards a barrage of salutations from yuppies and hipsters. She walked right through the crowd now surging with the energy imbued by expensive alcohol, cursing under her breath in Mandarin.

These people don’t understand me.

She looked back to find the SJWs in the back and only found shadows. They get me. They understand my plight.

As she was about to enter the house, her husband Fletcher approached her. She was struck by how alien he looked to her. It had been years since they had been intimate and when they had been, it was to show the government a face of love, affection, and trust that simply didn’t exist. She remembered the night she walked in on Fletcher mounting a young male intern, wearing only a native American headdress and his normal purple Fitbit. She remembered her own flings. She had lost count of how many men she had slept with outside of her fictitious marriage. As far as she knew, Fletcher was too oblvious to the matter as his personal finances absorbed his every waking moment.

“El, I uh, I, can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

Ellen looked into his bloodshot eyes. His eyes were once brilliant eyes, connected to a brain that could bilk millions out of investors. Now he was a shell of his former self, cut down in his illicit prime. She brushed past him, ignoring his pleas and walked up to her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and walked to her bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She took out a bottle of morphine and gave her tongue one drop to soothe her stresses. Liquid morphine was powerful and she played with it safely. She looked into the mirror and her pupils dilated realtime. As she made her way downstairs, she could feel the liquid love take soft-hold in her limbs, her nipples became sensors against her blouse, the clack of her heels became a metronome. Time slowed.

The party was in full roar but it was dulled against her senses. Bottles were emptied faster than the help could clear them, plates of half-eaten food lay clustered on any surface that could support them. Liquids had clearly been spilled near the back, dirty footprints told of a partier’s last intention towards an abstract something, vanishing into the darkness of the backyard. She passed Fletcher as he took his fifth hit of coke off the back of a chubby freckled intern, awarded with cheers from wealthy suburbanite nerds amazed at his magic trick. She grabbed a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and clacked her heels onto the cool backyard pavement, rejoicing in the feeling of her tight flesh jiggling so slightly against her frame.

She lost count of time as she was passed from conversation to conversation. Hours passed. Years passed. Eons passed. People came and went. Evolution played out in front of her. A familiar misshapen body approached her.

“Feelin good?” Irby probed with muddy brown corneas.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Nice. Hey, I was thinking. We still have one thing to finalize.”

Pao looked at her through designer lenses. Her heart gained a couple beats.

“You want to initiate me?” She asked.

“Yes. Meet me in your room in 5 minutes.”

She eventually made it to her room where the SJWs had assembled and she shut the door behind her. The noise from the party muted slightly. She had been waiting for this moment for some time.

“I have always wanted to be one of you.”

She sat down on the bed and one of the SRD mods pulled out a small tattoo device. She gave her right arm over and the mod went to work immediately. She felt nothing as her wrist was penetrated by the needle. The surrounding members watched the procedure as if it were some holy ceremony. She became aroused at the idea of the needle penetrating her and she sensed the others were as well. She looked up with dull eyes to see several individuals fondling themselves or a neighbor, rubbing swollen crotches through thrift store-bought denim. She scanned to her right past her tattoo artist to see Quietuss and Irby groping each other. Irby’s black she-hulk frame eclipsed him. Quietuss was so weak he had trouble squeezing the flesh that resembled Irby’s tits through her shirt. She looked up to see that Irby was staring at her, almost oblivious to Quietuus’ ragdoll movements.

The tattooist finished xer’s work and stepped up from the bed. The circle around the bed enclosed on Ellen, swollen crotches meeting her at eye level. There was no hesitation as she began undoing button and fly zippers, lifting up skirts and pulling down undergarments. She fell to her knees taking a cock in her mouth. She revelled in its salty taste and pretty soon, she had him at his most rigid, occasionally kissing the head as she jerked and fingered others. The cock and the attached body was pulled out from and replaced by Irby who presented her malformed pseudopenis. Ellen looked up as the shaft slid into her mouth and slightly down her throat, locking eyes with Irby. Irby grinned broadly as xer’s fake testicals pushed up against Ellen’s chin. That’s when things got hazy.

Minutes seemed like hours as Ellen was passed around from crotch to crotch, a sort of oral gangbang. The morphine and champagne duller re revulsion to SJW genitals; uncleaned, unshaven jimmies battled for access to her flicking tongue. Some of the mods got a little rough with Ellen, eliciting ganging sounds as they mounted her head and roughly planted their nether regions on her head which hung off the edge of the bed like a sack of potatoes.

“Oh my gerd. I’m non-ciscumming my fuckin brains out on you Ellen!” Irby screamed.

Her fatty rolls vibrated like Zoidberg’s mouth during a feeding frenzy. The splash of some kind of liquid clouded Ellen’s lenses, a stinky tofu smell followed. Irby unmounted her face and took a step back, sweating and heaving from the release. Ellen raised her head to see Jess_than_three staring down at her spread legs. Another angry t-slur known as Flaxrabbit was spooning Jess_than_three from behind, its arms wrapped around holding onto Jess’ subpar tit-job. When had she been stripped naked? No matter. Jess_than_three’s eyes threw daggers at Ellen’s neatly trimmed bush as it both admired and hated the exposed genitals before it. It stabbed a syringe into it’s own thigh, injecting a concentrated growth hormone into its body. Ellen watched Jess_than_three’s clit grow like a pink grub worm. It undulated on its own, twisting and turning. Ellen would have thought it had a mind of its own if she hadn’t seen the look of concentration on Jess_than_three’s face. She brought the squirming body part down on Ellen’s own clit and they both rocked in pleasure. After several sequential orgasms, Ellen lazily looked to her left to see two mods helping Quietuus out of a pool of his discarded clothing. His body resembled Mr. Burns from the Simpsons.

He was carried over and Ellen was ordered to get on her hands and knees. She obliged and bared her Chinese cooch and barking-spider to the room. Quietuus was placed behind her and he moved his face forward, close enough to her anus that he could count the bicycle spokes. She lowered her head and looked past her own dangling breasts to see him jerking his grey dink, the shaft only big enough to get a finger and his thumb around it.

“Guhhhhhaaaaaaahhhh!” Queituus suddenly fell limp and he buried his head in Ellen’s backside, breathing in her essence as his orgasm soaked into Ellen’s Momme seamless silk sheets. His head slumped to the bed and he stared up at the ceiling with black eyes and a small panting mouth. He really looked like that alien autopsy photo now.

The orgy became suddenly aware of the party downstairs and everyone stopped their thrusting to look towards the door. Fletcher’s eyes were wide and bloodshot as he stared at Ellen and her look of surprise. His mouth dropped open as he scanned the room of at least 20 SJW mods jerking their jimmies while they waited in line for a chance to get at Ellen. He recovered his shock with the help of the massive amounts of coke and booze he been consuming and closed the door behind him and shuffled over to a Chase lounge chair, falling into it with his bottle of Oban 14 years. His shirt was littered with the remnants of Cheez-its and Hotpocket sauce splashes. The cheese and broccoli kind was his favorite flavor, bought every week by Ellen during her visits to Costco where she barraged the employees with insults as to why there weren’t enough women working there.. The gangbang resumed without missing a beat and BipolarBear0 led the charge with a loud moan from the brutal-looking pegging he was receiving from a butch lesbian near the bathroom.

The orgy lasted another hour and the mods dressed themselves and filed out of the room down through the party and the stares of cleancut lawyers and investors. A couple “ciscums” and kill whitey’s” could be heard as they piled through the front door and into their respective aging Japanese imports, the glow of mobile phones showed they were already in modmail rejoicing their new partnership, reminiscing about their collective sexual conquest and their guaranteed safe spaces.