The Myth of the Aromatic Orange

Discussion in 'Off-topic Discussion' started by Trynagetbetter, Feb 15, 2019.

  1. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART 1 – Here to Stay

    Long ago, when the oceans were deep blue and the grass was vibrant green, and the air was crispy clean, and the streams and lakes were pristine and pure... yes, long before any man or woman had to worry about whether their ways of life were sustainable... during this time, in a remote village by the sea, lived a large community of happy people. They ate freely; they played freely; they shared freely. Everything.

    FREE.

    Until one day ...
    a woman from another village came, bringing with her strange fruit. Bright and Round. Soft and Sweet. Aromatic. Fascinated by the new food, several curious villagers gathered around to see. In front of them all she slowly removed the outer peel, undressing the fruit to reveal a tender skin underneath. A fragrant scent wafted through the air, as she slipped her fingers inside a hole on the underside and spread the flesh open, delicately separating the now naked fruit into pieces. She licked the nectar from her fingers as the villagers stood still in a trance, staring... longingly. Then, she handed them out to those brave enough to try, and she encouraged them to eat. And their eyes did instantly light up as soon as the sugary fruit touched their tongue... and the sticky juice did drip from their lips as they bit into its moist skin... and the long, deep, approving moans did pour forth as they chewed the refreshing fruit in their mouths, and the open hands of the villagers did reach out desperately for more as they finished swallowing the delectable that had been given them. But she had no more. The villagers offered her fish, and spices and vegetables if she would return the next day with another orange.

    The second day...
    she returned with two oranges, and was surrounded by an even larger crowd than the day before. They were expecting her. For word had spread throughout the entire village about the aromatic orange, and they waited anxiously for her to arrive. But today, the villagers, who once ate and shared freely, were now pushing and fighting and snatching from each other. For there was not enough to go around. The elders, seeing the drastic change in their children, were alarmed. The sticky-sweet fruit had aroused a desire that was troubling and worrisome; the elders felt out of control. And so as concerned elders do, for the well-being of the entire community, they outlawed oranges from the village. Indeed, for years stories were created and fables told which warned children of the dangers of oranges. In fact, to this very day, in many villages across the seas, the story of the woman who tempted the man with a piece of fruit is still told. But even in the stories told late at night by the fire, lay the tempting reminders of the sweetness & the brightness of the forbidden, fleshy fruit. In fact, the more it was discouraged, the more children grew up wanting to taste it. Many chose not to speak of the subject at all to their children, thinking they could not be harmed by things they knew nothing about. This seemed wise.

    Over a decade went by, and to the relief of the village patriarchs, the community returned to its former state. There was laughter again. There was music again. There was freedom again.

    Or so the elders had assumed.

    Little did they know, that years ago, on that fateful day their little village was visited by the curious outsider, several of the villagers had quietly taken the seeds from the three aromatic oranges and had secretly planted them in the ground in a small grove, one stone’s throw outside of the village. As you know, it takes 180 moons for an orange tree to begin producing fruit from seed; and the year - and season - had finally come upon them. Yes. And from those three oranges came disaster. Three oranges: 10 segments each, with two seeds per segment. Alas, 60 new orange trees now stood ready to drop fruit. Each tree brought forth 100 to 300 of its own oranges; each of these oranges contained the seeds to bring forth 20 of its own trees!

    The elders were soon to find out: Oranges were here to stay.

    >> PART 2 - Nobody Knew Why
     
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  2. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART II – Nobody Knew Why

    Long ago, when the oceans were blue and the grass still green, the air still clean, and the streams and lakes still pure... yes, before any man or woman had to worry about whether their ways of life were sustainable...... during this time, in that remote village by the sea, now lived a large community of diligent people. They worked hard; they exercised self-restraint; they passed down the sacred tribal values of the ancestors. Values: like discipline; obedience.

    CONTROL.

    The orange groves had been flourishing outside the village for centuries now, and the village, likewise, had grown from a few families into multiple groups of families called clans, allowing for the first time a level anonymity and some degree of privacy that had not existed in the world. The village chief, elders and holy men established many customs, rituals and belief systems to accommodate the presence of these problematic, aromatic oranges. Some beliefs were carved into stone as Ten Great Laws, while others were passed down orally from generation to generation.

    But most of the beliefs about oranges remained unwritten. Unspoken.

    There was an undercurrent of anxiety about the fruit, which both seduced and repelled every member of the community. Fear of its power infused the language, imperceptibly influenced the customs, animated the sacred stories. Although the word Orange was rarely used explicitly or directly, it consumed the thoughts of everyone there. It’s what everyone thought about, worried about, day-dreamed about. And the unspoken preoccupation was disconcerting, to say the least. Yet no one knew where the anxiety came from. Oranges were simply a taboo subject; they always had been, for as long as anyone could remember. That’s just the way it was.

    And like those seeds planted many moons ago, they all buried their longings deep, covered them over, allowed them to sit untouched, in darkness, underground. But as you already know: the solitary seed, once concealed, needs only a teardrop of water to rise from its slumber, to take root, to sprout. Indeed, in due time it will push its way to the surface, where it will be visible to everyone. All seeds… all yearnings… given the right conditions, do this.

    So the villagers followed the sacred customs in public, but indulged the aromatic oranges in secret. And thus was born for the first time, something the once free and once happy villagers had never known when they were fewer, when they were closer.

    SHAME.

    Each man thinking he alone coveted what ought not be coveted; each woman silently and desperately suppressing her urges, which could be aroused at even the fragrance that continually flowed from the distant groves. Yes. What they renounced aloud at village gatherings, they silently embraced in the privacy of their huts. And why would they not? Oranges were delightful. Oranges were sweet to the taste. The villagers, however, pretended they were not.

    There were rumors, whispered away from the holy men, beyond the huts and in the hills, that oranges might even have ingredients that offered health benefits. At night, under the shadow of darkness and in confidence among close friends, some speculated that the fruit had the power to offer energy or to make them feel alive. Of course, no one would admit to having any personal experience with it; especially the women of the village. For some reason, it was particularly shameful for any female to be associated with oranges. It was embarrassing for a man to be caught; but it was a disgrace for a woman. She would be immediately associated with the Original Temptress – she who many moons ago brought disaster to paradise. And so the village suffered, but none so much as the poor women.

    And nobody knew why …



    <<Part 1 - Here to Stay
    >>Part 3 - Mariam's Longing
     
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  3. SolitaryScribe

    SolitaryScribe Fapstronaut

    Very interesting story! please keep the coming!
     
  4. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    Thanks SolitaryScribe. Just posted the second installment. Let me know what you think of that one!
     
  5. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART III - Mariam’s Longing

    Two thousand years ago, when men began to set fleets of boats upon the oceans, and the blood-soaked grass turned red with war… when the winds of conquest carried the stench of death and anxiety through the air … when men fought for domination over every stream and every lake… yes, when men and women began to understand that their ways of life were at the mercy of those more powerful than they… during this time in a remote village by the sea, lived a poor peasant woman named Mariam.

    Almost a thousand years had passed since that fateful day when the Temptress happened upon the village, bringing with her the beginning of the curse. Since that time, all across the Earth families had grown into tribes; tribes into clans; clans settled and merged into cities; cities combined into city-states; and men who controlled city-states had created empires. And the poor villagers became a forgotten community, an occupied territory belonging first to the Babylonians, then the Medes & Persians, followed by the Greeks, and now Mariam and the rest of the villagers found themselves subjects of the last and greatest empire the earth had ever known… the 5th Empire. And the Empire had fully embraced the orange!

    Once strange and exotic, the now-ubiquitous, aromatic oranges had become a common sight throughout the village and the surrounding regions. In fact, the divinely appointed rulers, the Kings - Sons of God as they were known - lavished upon themselves the finest of oranges. They grew large orange groves in the countryside, and from these groves harvested large batches, from which they created lavish, sweet juices, which they imbibed with gluttony. It was rumored that they even created special baths in their city palaces from the nectar and pulp of the once-forbidden fruit, luxuriating in the intoxicating, decadent elixir. To legitimate these and other excesses, and to establish the Divine Right of Kings, fantastic stories were spread that magnified their spectacular feats, exalted their wisdom, and reaffirmed their heavenly favor. The Great Conqueror, for instance, was said to have been born of a virgin, as was the founder of the 5th Empire. The Caesars, dressed in deep blood-orange garments, were hailed as Princes of Peace, Saviors of the World, Gods from God, Lights of the World, the Ones to be Worshiped. When they died, they ascended to the right hand of God, the red-orange fire in the sky. All these claims you can still see, carved into the buildings, etched into the great monuments … stamped onto the coins that were used as currency.

    And this was life for Mariam: living in poverty right alongside the massive wealth of foreign overlords. A yawning chasm between rich and poor persisted for decades. Those in power who captured, owned and profited from the land’s produce cared nothing for those lowly, indebted tenants who worked desperately for their own subsistence. Powerless among the powerful and helpless to change her fate, Mariam lived with anxiety. She worked. She eked out a meager existence. She envied. She worried. But mostly, to hide from her pain, she fantasized about the forbidden.

    She fantasized to numb; she fantasized to cope. She fantasized to feel again; fantasized for hope. It became her way of life…

    All-Consuming Orange Fantasy.
    She walked daily throughout the village, the groves, the vineyards, the markets… living inside an illusion. Alive, but not alert. There… but barely here. Always around…. never present.

    And of course, she lost herself to that unspoken, relentless yearning; lost herself to the ache for the thing which ails us most: that which we think we don’t yet have. It is the same longing with every generation … on every continent … in every Empire.


    <<Part 2 - Nobody Knew Why
    >>Part 4 - Orange Fever
     
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  6. safa61947

    safa61947 Fapstronaut

    Beautiful text. I don't quite get the point but I like it. Source?
     
  7. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    You'd have to first read Part 1 and then Part 2 to get the backstory. These are my parables about addiction. They all roll up under "Myth of the Aromatic Orange." I'm writing a new installment every few days. You can just search Nofap for "Aromatic Orange" under the Search Forum tab..

    Let me know in each part if it makes sense. The metaphors and allegories should be fairly obvious in this forum, although parables by design are supposed to make you STOP & THINK...
     
    Last edited: Feb 20, 2019
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  8. safa61947

    safa61947 Fapstronaut

    Wow the story is so good I thought you exerted it from a book. I guess our Mariam is set up to no good. I think I can relate now... oranges, the 5th Empire. Very enticing.
     
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  9. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    Thanks @safa61947. You're right about Mariam; I need to flesh her out a bit more in the next installment of stories. But she will represent all of us here. Probably should get some input/ideas from folks like @GhostWriter since he understands addiction better than most. And also the female perspective from people like @Retro Girl, @Kenzi, @AnonymousAnnaXOXO, or @Saskia Simone who also very much understand the struggle. Next story (Part 4 - Orange Fever) coming soon...

    Need to figure how to describe/show Mariam's addiction (through oranges!)
     
  10. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

  11. Kenzi

    Kenzi Fapstronaut

    I've been following along .. It's a good story
     
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  12. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    Thanks, Kenzi. Suggestions always welcomed. Uploading Part 4 - Orange Fever now. It's basically addiction from my perspective (vicariously placed onto a female). Don't know if that really works, seeing as how that's the exact problem with porn (presenting females from a broken male perspective). However, I'm hoping the universal humanity comes through and that by using a different gender, the men can let their guards down to see themselves ...
     
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  13. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART IV - Orange Fever

    In the fifth decade of the 5th Empire, when the conquered oceans were reduced to trade routes, and the well-trod grass was being removed to pave way for roads … when the dust of agricultural industrialization for the first time began to concentrate in the air … when stream and lake became the last refuge of the destitute and hungry … yes, during this time, something called commerce had made its way to our small village by the sea. And the commodity most in demand, most highly coveted, and most highly revered by the world’s inhabitants was, of course, that sacred … forbidden … almost unattainable … Aromatic Orange.

    And such is the way among both people and things:

    Those appearing to us rare and unique … are more highly prized.
    Those forbidden to us and which we cannot access …. are longed for most.
    And those we simply misunderstand… are always exploited – fashioned into whatever image is convenient, conducive and most profitable to Power.

    Is this not true?

    And so, access to the orange, though now abundant in supply, became restricted, confined, controlled. Re-imagined. Restricted by prohibitive cost, confined by religious legalism, controlled by unexamined tradition, and re-imagined by carefully crafted social structures. Unbeknownst to the Empire, it had unwittingly created a fever. Orange Fever.

    DISCONNECTION
    Mariam - a young woman full of life, full of passion, full of desire – was confused by the dissonance. “How can oranges be wrong, when they are found everywhere and are as common a thing as fish?” she would frequently ask herself. “Why do only Kings indulge in them with abandon, while the commoners are prevented from savoring the same pleasure?” And, “Why are men always forgiven their indiscretions with the orange, while the stigma remains on the women?” Hindered from open experience with that which was considered illicit, Mariam could only imagine what it would be like to abandon herself completely to the orange. And this became the key to her entry: Imagination.

    Now, the problem with imagination, as you dear reader undoubtedly suspect, is that once infected with lies, its creativity quickly deteriorates into fantasy. And fantasy, once it secures a firm grip on the mind, is very difficult to escape. We shall not unfairly judge our sister Mariam; nor can we critique her too harshly. For we too, at one time, were infected with the same Lie. It is only that poor Mariam, at this point in her young life, had not yet learned what took many of us years, even decades, to realize:

    A dream, like a star, is to be chased. One wakes from a fading dream and runs in excited pursuit.
    But fantasy, as illusion, is a cage. One sits inside illusion, lulled into a perpetual wait.
    Dreams demand participants. Fantasy embraces bystanders.

    And our young sister had set her heart – and her fantasy - upon the orange. It became the object of her affection. She was, in every sense of the word, in love. And she would not stop loving it; could not stop loving it. Ever since that day, years ago, when Mariam as a young girl, found the stolen basket of oranges hidden behind the house, inside the bush, left discreetly by her father… ever since that day, she was captured. Smitten. She fell headlong into love. We know the father should not have kept them; we know an innocent, young girl should never have found them. But he did … and she did. Infection breeds and spreads among those who are closest. Is this not true?

    Couched in secret, what started with queasy stomach progressed over many moons into burning heart. Exploration from naïve curiosity grew into habitual patterns of looking. Then touching. Then tasting. Then … must we say it here? … rubbing; pressing; squeezing. She even placed pieces where they ought not be placed. Prudence, mind you, dictates that we say no more on this matter. For you very well know the depths to which your own dark afflictions took you in private - when you were consumed with passion and overcome by longing. Indeed, Mariam would become so engrossed in her private rituals with oranges, that she could lose herself for hours without noticing. And what always followed became painfully too familiar...

    SHAME.
    Disgust. The promises to herself that she was done with oranges. Forever! But not long after each promise, she again succumbed to their allure. And although she was lovely as a quiet country meadow at dawn (and deeply adored by us all), she saw only ugliness in herself; felt only hatred for herself.

    I needn’t remind you that this kind of hatred almost always descends into despair.

    Mariam did not understand why she could not stop loving. Her heart simply could not stop … loving. On and on, the cycle continued: misplaced longing; irresistible seduction; hidden pursuit; secret orange rituals; abandonment to desire; guilt and remorse; heart-felt promise to do better. Repeated. Over. And over. And over. Try to imagine the turmoil that Mariam felt. Her deepest longing became the source of her deepest shame. And the more she tried to quiet her secret cravings, the more they seemed to blossom.

    Yes. Mariam had contracted Orange Fever.
    (Is this not true?)


    <<Part 3 - Mariam's Longing
    >>Part 5 - Wise Man on the Hill
     
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  14. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

  15. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART V - Wise Man on the Hill

    Along the winding banks of the tranquil sea, where grassy dessert weeds give way to rocky sand shoreline, Mariam wanders in silent turmoil, inhaling deeply of the thick, salty air that drifts off the incoming surf. Each ebb removes one anxious thought. Each flow offers a serene alternative. Even on a cold winter morning such as this one, Mariam, wrapped in several layers of thick wool garment, can find tranquility in the soft rhythmic lapping of the small waves, as they lazily break offshore, then calmly push their way onto the rocky beach with a soft, prolonged “Hush…”

    This is her place of centering. This is where she comes to feel whole.

    At her feet, soothing sounds shower salve upon her soul; in the distance, boundless sea kisses infinite sky in regal pageantry, and the romantic spectacle elevates her to a space beyond herself.

    The sea always does this.
    Always ...
    does ....
    this ...​

    She is here, along with us, to escape. To forget. To start over. To relieve her agitated soul, set aflame last night by the oranges. Longings askew, cravings amok, Mariam mourns… and searches herself for answers. Answers that do not come, will not come, easily.

    “What is this burning in my chest?” she ponders. “I’ve spent all night with the oranges; my body is exhausted. I have no taste for them. The thought of eating another is revolting. My mouth is dry from the sugar and my stomach sick from the acid. Yet my heart continues to yearn… ever stronger. Why? For what?” Indeed, Mariam feels her heart cry out this morning. It is a tightness in her bosom, gripping firm, pressing down, and pinching. But she doesn’t recognize it, and so she doesn’t know how to satiate. It demands an audience; she listens, but she cannot gratify. She can never gratify!

    She wants it to go away, but she fears last night only fanned into a roaring blaze something she does not have the capacity to extinguish. And so here she is, overwhelmed. For as a waterfall cannot reverse its course, nor a river switch its direction, what has been carelessly unleashed cannot be reined back in. Once the integrity of a dam has been compromised, and the floodwaters burst forth unchecked, they simply MUST run their course … often, consuming and eroding whatever they find in their path.

    “Go away,” Mariam gripes to her cravings, weakly and irresolutely. They take no heed. And so, of course, Mariam descends into disgust. For what she had erratically and passionately invited into her heart last night, she has not the power to dismiss so easily today. She cannot be rid of the thing! Had she drunk too deeply?

    And then, from the depths of despair, a glimmer of hope sprouts.

    She has relied upon her own will power, and it has not worked. She has thrown out her supply of oranges, and it has not worked. She has come to the placid seascape seeking strength, forgiveness and resolve over and over again; and it has not worked. She is utterly defeated … and she knows it. Instead of fighting it, Mariam finally decides to give up. Yes. This morning is quite different. Backed into a corner with no place else to go... at the bottom of a pit with no place further to descend, Mariam surrenders to a truth that both mortifies and relieves her to confront. She cannot do this…

    SHE cannot do this…

    And there it is. Something that has been right in front of her, but which she has been avoiding the entire time. It is her last resort. And what has she to lose? Dignity? Self-respect? She has not had those for quite some time. And the pain of being held captive by her cravings has far exceeded her fear of embarrassment. She is desperate, and with nothing else left to try she decides to ask for help.

    Stooping to tie her sandals tight, then standing to adjust her garment belt firm, Mariam now sets off resolutely … to see the Wise Man on the hill.

    << Part 4 - Orange Fever
    >> Part 6a - Let the Readers Decide
     
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  16. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART VIa – Let the Readers Decide

    High up on the 35th floor of the east tower, in a corner office with incredible floor-to-ceiling views of Blackwater Bay, Jack sank into an oversized, orange designer chair in the editor’s office. He was tempted to lean back into the cozy, womb shaped chair, and place his arms in the rests, but decided he had better sit upright, lean forward and be mentally alert for the conversation. He knew his idea was a longshot, and if he couldn’t articulate it carefully and in a way that resonated with the beautiful woman sitting behind the large desk across from him, his chances of getting published were bleak.

    “My idea,” he began slowly, “is to address head on the problem of Orange Fever, but using an explicit allegory to help people understand the problem through a different lens.”

    “Risky,” Jessie replied, as she stared at him intently. “And it’s been tried before.” She thought for a moment and followed with, “Why allegory? Why not just come out and talk openly about people’s sickness and obsession with oranges? Any book or movie - or video clip - that features oranges will certainly be a hit!”

    “Yeah, well….you know what they say: Better to SHOW than tell.”

    “So SHOW Orange Fever – people will eat it up …no pun intended.”

    Jack stayed focused, but felt himself getting excited about the project. “Showing and writing about oranges explicitly has been overdone. It misses the point of causing people to reflect, and it’s just going to trigger people to act out; it’s gratuitous and counterproductive. Plus, I think by using something OTHER THAN an orange, I can get people to think more honestly about the real problem; which I doubt is related to the orange at all.

    “How do you mean?” Jessie asked with a puzzled look on her face.

    “Well… think about it. From a purely unemotional, objective standpoint. Honestly, it’s just an orange. Nothing special.”

    “Woah! JUST… an orange??!” Jessie leaned in across the desk. “We’ve had wars on every continent over oranges; fought, bled and died for oranges; it’s the most deeply ingrained driver any civilization has ever had. You can’t just pretend oranges have no meaning. And what about the science? Hello!? Eating. The human species was designed to eat or we die. Oranges give us the nutrients. No one likes to talk about it because it’s a complicated and embarrassing subject, but oranges make the world go around. Always have, always will. You can’t diminish its role with a story; that just wouldn’t fly.”

    “I agree with SOME of what you said. But I wonder if people conflate the need to eat with the need for an orange. We can debate at another time whether we can get our nutritional needs met with other food (I think we can). But to your point, we can’t directly challenge the necessity or importance of the orange per se without upsetting people, now can we? We need parable; allegory.”

    “OK… so, what’s the allegory??”

    “Well, I’m thinking about taking something that is fairly benign and neutral. Something that is nice and even pleasurable, but nothing anyone would ever obsess over. Then I’m actually going to turn it into an obsession for a dysfunctional civilization… and let the reader watch it unfold.”

    “Hmmm. You mean, like an apple?”

    “No, no. No. Something completely unrelated to fruit. Something, you know, benign. It’s got to be really basic. Something we all do, but somehow it gets blown out of proportion… until it becomes addiction. And it has to be so commonplace, so fundamental to the human race that it’s almost ludicrous to think that we could go into a fever over it.”

    “OK. Like what?”

    “I was thinking about sex.”

    <<Part 5 - Wise Man on a Hill
    >>Part 6B -Let the Reader Decide
     
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  17. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART VIb – Let the Readers Decide

    “Sex?” Jessie asked Jack.

    “Sex,” said Jack to Jessie.

    “Why would any of us go into a fever over making babies? I don’t get it.”

    “That’s the point; we wouldn’t. It’s something we do to survive, to make sure we pass our genes on to another generation; to ensure survival of our species. It’s something everyone does, but it IS pleasurable. So we could play on that a bit; you know, twist it.”

    “Yes. But nobody is going to get obsessed with making more children! You can’t seriously compare that to the pleasure of oranges.”

    “I’ve been reading that pleasure is often times connected to expectation and conditioning. It’s more about build up in the mind. All we’d have to do is create some sort of brokenness or dystopia where people no longer engage in sex for making babies, or simple pleasure. Where it grows like a cancer to become more than just an enjoyable act; it’s packed with meaning and nuance and … some almost fantastical, dreamy… or sacred experience that everyone aspires to.”

    “Sex becomes sacred?”

    “Well, think about Orange Fever. How did the orange get such a huge place in our lives in the first place? It’s almost sacred, holy… and yet considered by many to be forbidden at the same time. It brings both guilt AND pleasure, especially to the religious leaders. I mean, look. We ALL look at oranges, lick them, drink the juice, bathe in them, walk on them, rub them on our bodies. And for good reason: the orange is nirvana; it is the pen-ultimate experience. We know it’s more than a fruit; more than food. But why is it so hard to admit we do this? The most that people will ever own up to is the normal indulgence of 3-5 oranges per night, few enough to keep from getting diabetes.”

    “And of course, none of us believe them,” Jessie interrupted.

    “No. But what I’ve really been wondering about are the people who don’t even eat oranges at all. I mean, we all know at least one of these people, right?? I mean, for them, an orange is simply one option among many types of fruit – and not even their favorite option.”

    “Oranges are MORE than just fruit!”

    “Says who?” Jack pushed back firmly, but nervously.

    “Literally, everything!? History. Science. Everyone on planet earth.”

    “Right. But that’s what I’m trying to push up against with this story. What if it IS just a fruit, like any other fruit? Or like any other physical pleasure, for that matter? What if we’ve turned it into something that it was never meant to be?”

    “Alright, I’m intrigued. Let’s move this along: Making babies? Help me out with that…”

    “Right. So … instead of making babies, this make-believe world somehow believes that having sex will fulfill them, will make them feel whole, I guess,” Jack giggled. “It’s marketed to them in this real unrealistic, fantastical and unattainable way by corporations, the same way oranges are. So people get obsessed with watching it, to the point they’re always fantasizing about it, wanting it. Over time, it gets embedded into the culture and starts driving their behavior, their relationships. Everything. It can even be monetized.”

    “Everyone is making babies all day long? And it’s profitable. That’s the story?” Jessie asked.

    “No, they are watching other people do it.”

    “So people watch other people … make babies?” she laughed.

    “Worse: no one is even TRYING to make babies,” Jack said trying to create drama. They are addicted to just the pleasure that COMES FROM making babies! So much so, that they sit around and watch strangers getting pleasure.”

    “That would never happen, though,” Jessie rebutted. “It has to be in the realm of the believable to get people to question oranges. Why would anyone watch someone else experience pleasure, when they can go experience it for themselves? Do these people sit around and watch videos of other people petting puppies? Or walking barefoot on the sand? Can they not feel for themselves?”

    “Well the story is about brokenness. Could even be about disconnection. Maybe they feel they can’t act on their sexual desires freely, any more than you can pull out an orange right here and now and eat it. So they watch OTHERS do it, in amazing and unique and creative ways, and it’s sold to them as something they could only dream about. It ultimately devolves into an unrealistic fantasy.”

    “But why can’t they make babies or have sex? Are they physically deformed? Does this story take place in a repressive society?”

    “No, I haven’t worked all the details out yet, but there will be some sort of hidden taboos around it, and myths and things that figure into their religions that kind of forbid it. Well, not outright forbid it … but transform it into something people can no longer talk about openly… but everyone secretly wants. We play on the world’s loneliness.”

    “Hmmm. Loneliness sells.” Jessie admitted. But she wasn’t really moved by the idea, Jack could tell; so he pushed a bit.

    “Plus I want to draw attention to how oranges are marketed to us, and how people easily believe what they’re told about oranges instead of trusting the truth of the experience right in front of them. So like oranges, sex becomes this, kinda cure-all panacea that people turn to when they feel bad or down. It becomes just another method of escape through pleasure; but they can’t figure out why it never works. Why it never leaves them happy.”

    “OK, sex equals oranges. I get it. But it’s a bit abstract, don’t you think. You think distortions of sex will translate for the readers into what we do with oranges? It’s gotta somehow hint at oranges for people to get the connection, right?”

    “Maybe. Maybe not. But if we need to, I had an idea; let me know what you think about THIS…”

    “I was afraid to ask for more specifics, but… go ahead.”

    “What if we used something that resembled an orange, to help readers make the connection in their mind, subconsciously?”

    “Like what?”

    “Ok, don’t laugh. I haven’t flushed the whole thing out yet, but I was thinking about… female breasts.”

    <<Part 6A
    >>Part 6C

     
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 1, 2019
  18. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART VIc – Let the Readers Decide

    “Whaaat?!” Jessie grinned incredulously.

    “Breasts,” Jack repeated in his normal, monotone way to heighten effect.

    “Who would care about our mammary glands? So let me get this straight, they’re obsessed with MAKING babies and FEEDING babies? How broken are these people?”

    “No. No. It’s not about the babies. It’s about PLEASURE. People are addicted to pleasure. So you take a simple, innocent pleasure, and turn it into an obsession.”

    “How could breasts ever become a pleasurable addiction? Every one of us women – literally half the population - has them. Nobody cares about them. They don’t arouse any passion.”

    “But in a broken world… I believe they COULD.”

    “Ok, how? I gotta hear this one!”

    “Well… again, I haven’t flushed out all the details, but in the dystopia, the women are taught to cover and hide their own mammary glands – like it’s shameful, or distasteful, or wrong or something.”

    “So we’re forced to… HIDE our breasts?”

    “Kind of. The women think it’s their own idea, but really it’s just myths and customs, and laws that have persisted over millennia. Nobody really thinks too deeply about how or why a woman’s chest is erotic, and when that change happened; or even why a man’s is not. It’s just buried somewhere in the ancient stories. But in a twist, the cover-up is actually what makes it worse. So, now what’s hidden becomes ever more desirable.”

    “The forbidden fruit. You covet what you can’t have.” Jessie quipped.

    “Bingo! So now there is this curiosity, and this constant running of the imagination, and fantasizing about what COULD be hidden there. But then, like we do with our oranges, the women also sometimes partially reveal the breast… it’s very subtle. Like how we display our oranges partially peeled, showing some of the flesh of the fruit from behind the peel. You hide, but invite, at the same time. And like the corporations sell their goods on billboards and movies using oranges, in our broken world, instead of teasing with fruit, they tease …”

    “With our breasts… The problem is they’re not round; they don’t look like fruit. What if the people obsessed over our knees, instead? You know, and the women wore kneepads with holes or slits in them so men could peak.” Jessie seemed to be getting into the possibilities, and Jack could feel it.

    “Maybe, but covering breasts is visually more ridiculous. Watch: what if the women here wore some kind of special harnesses or contraptions that jammed their breasts into a round fruit shape, and walked around with some sort of orange- or grapefruit-looking attachments on their chest, … it might have an arousing effect. Or they might surgically insert round orange- or grapefruit-like globes inside their chests.”

    Laughter. “You’ve got quite an imagination. What about the men? What do they wear? What do they do?”

    “Nothing; it’s just obsession with female body parts that has the society out of whack. It’s like our world in that regard. Women will be presented as both the source and victim of the problem.“

    “I don’t see women ever subjecting themselves to that kind of humiliation. Wearing harnesses so our breasts look round like fruit, instead of hanging down naturally? Or breast surgery for better… roundness??”

    “Yeah. I’ll need some sort of ancient religious story they tell themselves about how women themselves are the source of seduction, so they think they’re at fault for arousing men’s passions. Then they feel obligated to wear harnesses and other things. And at the same time, I think if breasts are marketed by corporations as desirable, just like oranges, then the women would follow right along, trying to make their own breasts desirable, but not LOOK LIKE they’re trying to. It’s subtle; intentional, but not flagrant.

    “Ok, now that sounds like us. We would master the subtle!”

    “Right. So there can be different kinds of ways to cover and expose their bodies seductively. Like the rear end, for example, is somewhat round. It has the slit like the oranges do between pieces. I think visually, if you covered a woman’s body just right, accentuating some curves, covering parts, and revealing certain crevices, it would actually resemble exactly what we do with oranges to drive people into a frenzy. If we verbally described the body coverings just right, the reader could easily imagine the orange.”

    Jessie paused to think. She was now completely drawn in and intrigued.

    <<Part 6B
    >>Part 6D
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 1, 2019
  19. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART VId – Let the Readers Decide

    “I’m trying to picture this. OK. So you’re talking about a world where people are addicted… to … their own BODIES?? And they sit and look at their own bodies, and watch OTHERS experience the pleasure of making babies with their bodies. I’m not sure if this is genius or insanity! I mean, how would anything get done? How could anyone focus on work if they’re addicted to the mundane, to the commonplace. How would society function if we’re all addicted to body parts that everyone sees everyday?”

    “Ok, so this world is dysfunctional for sure, but it doesn’t descend into pure chaos. It’s a delicate and inconspicuous addiction. More like this nagging undercurrent. A hidden burning that people are uncomfortable talking about. To be honest, it’s just like our oranges. Except people are scared to talk about sex – even though they all do it to have kids.”

    “So it’s an open secret.”

    “Yes; well put. They don’t talk about it , but it shapes the narratives, the stories, the secret longings, the motivations behind why people behave the way they do. They hold back their longings in public, and then cut loose when no one is looking, or engage it in private with others.”

    “Wow, that could be really funny … or depressing. Not sure which I feel more.”

    “Wait. It gets better. I’m thinking they get so desperate for intimacy that some people create websites like we do for different orange types. But for them, it’s different types of women or bodies or sexual encounters.”

    “Oh, that’s kind of clever! So like… what? Different ... breast sizes?”

    “Exactly. Different shapes. Sizes. Different skin tones ...

    “OOOOOOH. Nice! Just like the streaming orange sites or online orange catalogues. Not that I’ve ever visited any of them (ahem!)”

    “Exactly.”

    “Side note: did you hear that peelmyorange.com got raided? Turns out they were involved in child-trafficking?!”

    “No!”

    “Yes! But I don’t want to get sidetracked.” Jessie resumed, “So a streaming website for breast gazing…. Now that’s hilarious. THAT will resonate with people. And then… wait! What do these people do about actual oranges?”

    “Oh … Nothing. They treat them like any other food, or like sex, or taking a bath. They just eat one from time to time, and that’s it.”

    “That’s it?”

    “Yup. For them the Orange is as innocent as Sex. No big deal.”

    “People just… walk down the street eating oranges... in broad daylight. Just … squeeze orange juice on themselves naked at work? They just take out oranges at lunch, remove their shoes and socks and just mush them up between their toes in plain view?”

    “No. They don’t do ANY of that stuff with oranges. No orange lovefests, nothing like that even exists. It’s a completely different relationship with oranges than we have. I want the reader of this book to imagine what normal could look like. I think the temptation is to imagine freedom means total INDULGENCE of oranges. But we’re going in a different direction. Here, it means freedom from CONTROL by oranges. The orange becomes powerless in this book.”

    “So then … what do they actually DO with an orange, again?”

    “Just eat it, like for breakfast, like its no big deal. Then they go to work.”

    Laughing, Jessie marveled, “Wow, um. Ok. So there’s no emotion in the future? What kind of place is this?”

    “We make it seem normal. We throw it right in their face, but present it as though it’s normal, everyday behavior. And it’s now; not the future. It’s a different present, assuming we had a different past. So on Page 1, story opens with a woman in public, maybe outside at a café. She’s eating peeled oranges, next to a table with a family that’s having breakfast (maybe one of the kids even has orange juice). And nobody in the restaurant thinks anything of it. Nobody even notices, or turns their heads to look.”

    “She does it in public?”

    “They all do.”

    “No police? No unpeeled exposure charges? Just eating fruit like normal food, and nobody reacts?”

    “Nobody reacts”

    “Wow. You should twist it so that instead of peeled oranges being a crime, the women won’t be allowed to expose their BREASTS in public or feed their children in public. And then people turn their heads and shame the mom who nurses her child with an exposed breast.”

    “Hadn’t thought of that, actually …” Jack admitted.

    “So what happens with the peel?!” Jessie continued.

    “They throw it away.”

    “Throw it away. Like in the trash?!”

    “Yes. Just throw it in the trash. Like it’s garbage. They don’t need it. It has no meaning in it. All they wanted was the orange, and that was only to satiate their hunger. Like any other food. Once they’re full, they move on. There is no Orange Fever in this world, so they are still innocent in that regard.”

    “Wow. The orange is innocent and harmless!”

    “Yes. They’re still living in the Garden of Paradise, and able to eat the fruit with no shame.”

    “Damn!” said Jessie, pausing to imagine such a world. “In a weird way, as broken as that is, it almost sounds ... believable.”

    “Right?”

    <<Part 6C
    >>Part 6E
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 1, 2019
  20. Trynagetbetter

    Trynagetbetter Fapstronaut

    PART VIe – Let the Readers Decide

    “You’ll really have to work out how the world gets so fucked up that they think making babies is the solution to their problems and suffering, or so bad that they get addicted to their own bodies, or that women start wearing … body harnesses. I don’t see how that’s all going to come together. But I think there’s something to this.” Jessie stood up to end the meeting, and Jack noticing her svelte physique, really could imagine the harness idea working.

    “There's definitely something there” he replied.

    “Yes. Leave a copy of the teaser you brought; I'm going to show it to some of my team members, and then get back to you. In the meantime, you flush out the “woman piece” a bit more. You have men addicted to breasts but nothing on the male body is addictive … like male biceps or calves, maybe?”

    “No. Like I said, I actually think we leave it lopsided, like that.”

    “That’s a pretty glaring bias, don’t you think? It wouldn’t really make sense to leave a hole like that unexplained.”

    “But that’s the point. No society can ever see their own biases. And especially when it comes to their women. Why can a man occasionally have an unpeeled orange, but NEVER a woman? Why is it that men can drink orange juice from a cup in public, but women only in private? Why can’t women enjoy the same taste, the same flavor, the same comfort of oranges as men… without being compared to the Temptress? The double-standard is real.”

    “So we keep that,” Jessie agreed.

    “We keep it; women still can’t get away with what men can. We keep everything the same. The prejudice. The bias. The brokenness in desire. It feels just like our world. But we make that one small switch: oranges and sex (or boobs, or something). And then we make the reader look at it dispassionately. They can be more objective if we come at it slowly, and let the idea sort of grow on its own in their mind.”

    “This could be brilliant!”

    “Yes. And I think if people can understand that swallowing an orange is no different than having an orgasm, or that looking at other people enjoy oranges for hours is as silly as sitting around watching someone else making babies, then they’ll start thinking beyond the orange. They’ll start asking the tougher questions.”

    “The tougher questions …” Jessie repeated, inquisitively.

    “You know:
    • What need am I really trying to meet?
    • How have I turned something so ordinary into a controlling obsession?
    • How did we as a society get to this place? What stories have we told ourselves - and do we continue to tell ourselves - to reinforce this brokenness?
    • Is there such a thing as a healthy relationship with the object of my obsession? What would that even look like?”
    “Profound questions, Jack.”

    “We’ll let the readers decide.”

    <<Part 6D
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 1, 2019

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