Or tape them, rather. This was in the 80’s, before the internet, obviously. But after video cameras had become somewhat widespread; it wasn’t quite a situation where Bob Crane and Willem Dafoe had to pay 75 grand for some cutting edge rig they only had access to because of their television backgrounds. Chuck would get one of those unwieldy Beta cams, stick it behind a hole in his bathroom wall, and then tape chicks peeing and taking shits at his home and/or catfish restaurant. Not clear if he had it set to some kind of trigger so it would only film when someone was in the can or if he just had them constantly running like those night cameras they put by cisterns where snow leopards drink. And if it’s the latter whether he had a guy just constantly fast forwarding through hours and hours of tape to cut together a “best of” reel of chicks pissing to present to chuck. Which, I want that job.
We live in a day and age now where if you want to tape chicks on the toilet you can get a camera for fifteen bucks that will click on when the bathroom door opens and send a neatly edited reel of chicks shitting right to your laptop, but Chuck, the trailblazer, invested tens of thousands of dollars in hundreds of pounds worth of delicate equipment; getting such huge cameras rigged in hidden spots, you know- there must have been carpentry involved. And what’s more, Chuck Berry was fucking Chuck Berry. He had millions of dollars from inventing rock and roll and was a huge global star with deep love and respect from all corners of the Earth. In other words, if Chuck Berry wanted, he could have paid or persuaded women to shit and piss right in front of him and they would have had the time of their lives. But no, he had to do it in secret.
He had to do it in secret because the violation was the hot part of it. He needed to watch chicks shitting, and pissing, who did not know they were being watched shitting and pissing to get off.
And Chuck was right. Consensual fantasies are bullshit.
Men are like this. We like shit that is genuinely evil and so only a tiny minority of sociopaths ever actually pull their fetishes off. Women– I’ve had more weird shit sprung on me by women than men I know well have discussed ever doing, by a factor of ten thousand. Tons of women ask me to fake rape them. Tons have asked me to hit them. Tons of them have wanted to roleplay being a little girl and calling me “Daddy” and sitting on my lap and asking if I could put it in just so they could see what it feels like. And I like these things in theory, except when chicks ask me to do it. Because if someone is asking you to rape them, what’s the fucking point?
Women like the pretend roleplay with safewords and nudge nudge wink wink and basically, anything that can take what makes the idea of rape, abuse or molestation actually hot and completely reverse it. In the fake roleplay situation the nominally submissive/victim is actually the demanding pain in the ass who is in control, and whose stupid whims are being satisfied by some bewildered dude trying to keep a straight face.
Men,when we think about that shit, think about actual raping. Actual hurting. Actual violating. Actual stealing your panties when you don’t know it. Jacking off to a naked picture we clicked when you were sleeping is ten million times hotter than the stupid posed one you send us. That one is only good for showing our friends.
The difference between fake rape a chick asks you for and actually roughing up a chick to where it almost crosses the line is the difference between LARP’ing with foam swords and actually slaying a dragon.