[ WP ] You are standing alone outside two giant wooden oak doors , giving yourself a pep talk before you walk through them .

“ C ’ mon man! Just… ” you mutter to yourself through apprehensive teeth. Your clenched jaw can ’ t seem to summon forth the right words. 
 
 “ You ’ ve done this a hundred times, this time is just, well, a little different, ” you ponder, blisteringly aware of the ticking clock hanging just beside the doors. 
 
 The phrases they had peppered you with came into the forefront of your mind. 
 
 ‘ You were born for this. ’ 
 
 ‘ I ’ ve never seen anyone quite like you, kid. And that ’ s saying something. ’ 
 
 A smile eeked itself from your lips to the lines in your cheek. 
 
 “ So many failures though. How many times had they said you ’ re just not good enough? How many times had others said you didn ’ t have what it took? Well, fuck those people. Fuck them and the goddamn horse they rode in on. I ’ m here now. I ’ m standing on the cliff edge of oblivion with only three inches of oak separating me and the rest of my life. It ’ s about time things started looking up, ” you exhale from a dry throat. You ’ ll have to remember to get some water before you say anything. Eyes closed, heart sending tremors through you sinewy chest, you close your trembling fingers in a tight, white-knuckled fist and give three loud knocks. 
 
 An effervescent light blinds your eyes as the doors begrudgingly swing open, releasing strained groans from their hinges as you stride across the threshold. A cacophony of voices litter the air, creating a chaotic drone that permeates your ears and infects your brain. In a haze of shouted commands and scurrying aides, you hear a hastened order come from somewhere out of the din, “ We need a fluffer, can we get a fluffer for fuck ’ s sake?! ” 
 
 Hands part the opening in your robe as you move into position, a grip of perfectly manicured nails and moisturized softness grasps you down below to usher forth blood from your extremities. With a series of tugs your swollen member starts to enlarge, and with its triumphant ascension, so too does the flotsam and jetsam of voices give way to audible gasps of astonishment. The same gentle hands relinquish their hold and pull the robe from your shoulders, letting it cascade to the floor and emit a light thud in the awe-stricken silent room. 
 
 Silence persisted for a few more seconds, but to you the jaunt lasted an eternity. Finally, a seductive voice wove itself through the air to caress your eardrums, saying, “ Holy shit he ’ s hung like a goddamn racehorse. ” 
 
 This was it. This was your moment. You had never felt more alive. 
 
 Again, the voluptuous voice came forth from the bare figure on the bed. 
 
 “ Put it in me, stud. ” 

