0 comments/ 4463 views/ 0 favorites The Broncha Theory! By: jocku I was playing pool with my friend Bran when I first heard of the Broncha theory. It was something he had read about in the internet. Despite the fancy name it has nothing to do with nuclear physics or medicine. To call it a sociological theory was being charitable, I felt at the time. Bran was being extremely charitable. Apparently it was a scientific way to attract women. I felt that this ridiculous theory was adding insult to my injury and I told him so. Not only was I single but I had been recently rejected by a girl I had liked and dated a few times. However Bran insisted that it was quite the opposite. If I didn't believe in the theory it meant that Alice, that was her name, had rejected me because I was perhaps not good looking enough or not rich enough. "You see that would be insulting," he said, "and not only would it be insulting it could not true could it. You're a successful accountant and fairly handsome." I am ashamed to admit that it was at this moment that I started to seriously listen to Bran's explanation. It seemed women were not attracted to looks or money. However neither was it character or virtue as the more romantic might imagine. It seems while women admired these things they were not necessarily what they were attracted to. Bran explained that a woman's brain had a region called bronchosomething, all a man had to do was stimulate this region and she would be helplessly madly attracted to him. I am not a doctor but perhaps I should have realized that the male and female brains couldn't be so different that they even had different regions. However at that time I was inclined to respect the views of a man who had just called me handsome and successful. "So how does one stimulate this region?" I asked. "That will take a long time to explain but basically you have to do the unexpected. And never be nice. Why don't I give you a first hand demonstration?" he said. Bran, despite his gullibility towards unverified information is an intelligent man. Thus when he says first hand demonstration it is not a slip. "See that girl at the next table you've been shamelessly ogling at this whole time?" I was stunned, embarrassed I didn't mean to stare let alone be caught.. However I could not help myself. As she was playing pool at the table in front of me I had the pleasure of seeing her from various views as she moved around the table. She was beautiful from any angle. In profile you could see her steep jaw and delicate chin, her flawless figure, the cute way she held her knee length skirt when she bent down to pick up the rack which was on the floor, the list goes on.. Considering the detail I still remember, maybe its not so surprising that I was noticed noticing. "It's ok you were not the only one. That guy in the other table has almost given up the pretext of playing. Even that woman he is with is staring at her. She probably gets it all the time. Well now I want you to go up to her and say something insulting to her. Anything. Since she probably saw you gawking it's the last thing she expects you to do. It will work like a charm." "What! No! That's insane!" I remember saying. "Think about it. You have truly nothing to lose. It is the last chance you probably have unless you are chicken." Bran knew how to make a convincing argument. I walked up to her. "Um excuse me." "Yes?" she said turning around and somehow even that was disarming. "Er," I stammered, momentarily lost, "Your jump shot is terrible." She looked utterly shocked. I quickly turned away and practically jumped back to my table to Bran. "Oh my god let's get out of here," I whispered. "Relax! What's she going to do? Call the police for you criticizing her pool skills? That was a pathetically lame insult, by the way," he said. It was then our turn to be shocked. She walked over to me. I dreaded the upcoming confrontation. "There is a room behind this pool place. Meet me there in ten minutes," she whispered in my ear. I was totally confused. Bran however spent the next ten minutes congratulating me on the execution and mainly himself on the teaching. He a gave me a crash course on the Broncha principles. I walked into the room, still perplexed. "Hi," she said. "Do you want to get straight to business?" she asked nervously. "Yes," I said (it really wasn't a difficult question). "Take your pants off," she said. At this point my mind was a whirlpool. I was thrilled on so many levels. First there was the present pleasure of being asked to undress by a strange beautiful woman. More importantly there was the promise of great pleasures to come. If this theory were really true, an exciting albeit slightly immoral life lay ahead of me. I could walk up to any beautiful I met anywhere say a few magic words and we could "get straight down to business". I would be like James Bond without having to bother with the villains or missions. Despite the immense excitement I felt, I tried to control myself and remember the broncha principles. They were very complicated and I had earlier dismissed them as standard cold reading vague nonsense. (Like a fortune teller telling you that your life will have ups and downs). However now I was a convert. To apply the principles I had to be myself but not too much of my self, exciting but not shocking, considerate but not nice. (You can see why I found it vague and complicated at first). I could remember at the time however that not being nice was a recurring theme. Thus being a believer, I said, "No. I will not take off my pants. You take off your dress." This seemed to shock her. She looked genuinely torn but she firmly said, "No that's not how it works. You do as I tell you or we are done here." 'Broncha principles be damned,' I thought as I took my pants off. I couldn't remember if nonchalance and disinterest were part of the Broncha plan . I hoped they weren't, because if there was any illusion of disinterest on my part before I took my pants off, she would have certainly been disillusioned after. I noticed that she looked away quickly and concentrated on my face. She smiled (artificially I would later find out). She sat on the bed and patted her lap. "Now get over my lap you naughty boy," she said. This was getting stranger and stranger. But no less pleasant. It was my first time lying over a woman's lap and my state of arousal didn't make the position less awkward. Although I sort of guessed what was coming I still cried out when she started spanking me. For a delicate looking girl she spanked pretty hard. I was quite relieved when she stopped. She let me stand up. My pants were still off. She then reached into her handbag and took out a bunch of fifty dollar notes, and gave them to me. She was paying me? I really felt like I was in an adult R rated version of Alice in Wonderland. "Ok now give me my medicine," she said. "What medicine?" I asked. I could almost feel my head spinning. "C'mon Jo I did what you wanted; give me my medicine," she said. Who in the world was Jo? I tried to explain to her that I really didn't know what she was talking about but she thought I was bargaining and offered me more money. It was then that I noticed she had a tape recorder-like device sticking out from her handbag. "Oh can't believe you have that. I thought everybody uses CDs now," I said. (Maintaining casual conversations was part of the Broncha principles I remembered. Perhaps I thought at the time Broncha could lead me out of the darkness). However I did not get the response I expected. She suddenly had a Hyde like transformation. "You know! Damnit!" she screamed and pulled out a gun from her handbag and pointed it at me. This had gotten far too much like James Bond for my liking. "I'm sorry I'm sorry. My name is Jeffrey Simmon. I really don't know what you are talking about," I blubbered. "Don't lie to me! You knew the place, the time and the code. How did you know I was with the police?" "Where is it?" "Where is it?" She continued asking me such questions to which I had no answers. "It has to be on you. You didn't have a bag." "Take your shirt off now!" Although it was the same strange beautiful woman asking me to undress, this time I was neither turned on nor inclined to protest. She kept searching my clothes and asking me to remove more until I was completely naked. I was sure there was some rule prohibiting the police from doing this to innocent citizens but I didn't say anything. As she looked through my wallet I saw her press something on her ear and say, "No I don't need backup. He's clean." "Do background checks on this ID number," and she told the person at the other end of her earpiece the ID number on my driver's license. I felt much safer at this point. I had led a lawful and a previously boring life. What seemed like a long time later, the people at the earpiece confirmed that I couldn't possibly be a drug dealer. "I'm so sorry," she said - back in Jekyll mode. "I can't believe it. You said the code by accident. I didn't make a single jump shot today ... what made you say I have a bad jump shot?" "Never mind; I'm really embarrassed. First of all we expected a woman then you said the code," she continued. However I didn't really listen because I was still amused by the fact she said she was embarrassed when I was the one who was naked. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" she asked. "I am sure I can think of something," I said, smiling as I took my clothes back. Broncha! Broncha! Broncha! "Jo may prefer being spanked but ..."