This piece of fan fiction is loosely based on the TV show, “Friends.” This story is not an erotic version of any actual Friends episodes. It is an alternate timeline story based on the same characters and settings. However, the situations are completely independent of the TV series.

It begins before any of the friends have gotten romantically involved with one another.

While this story is based on the Friends characters, particular details are often different. For example, Rachel is a highly intellectual clothing buyer, and Monica is a graphic designer.

The main characters’ families and siblings differ in type and quantity.

Chandler Bing got off to a fast begin in his profession. Statistical Analysis and Data Reconfiguration was high-pressure, demanding, lucrative, and offered limitless opportunities. For the first three years, he worked so hard he had no time or energy to date. He worked most Saturdays, and many Sundays. He eventually slowed the pace, and began hunting the concrete canyons of Manhattan for a permanent mate.

Nice-looking, witty, intelligent and obviously prosperous, Chandler was, on paper, a very qualified bachelor. However, his masculine sense of humor was off-putting for many women. His desire for a long-term, committed relationship made him a non-starter for any woman who was not ready to settle down. He dated some very pretty and accomplished ladies, but had never had a relationship lasting more than a few months.

Chandler found his job heartless and emotionally empty. A woman like Monica Geller, who felt and saw things that others could not, was irresistibly attractive to him. Unfortunately, Monica was out of his league. Manhattan was a big pool to fish in, so he kept searching.

Chandler had been dating Raquel sporadically for almost two months. Raquel was an administrative assistant. She had a slightly boyish figure. Her hips were narrow, for a woman. Her face and hair were lovely, however. Chandler felt lucky to have her.

On this night, they had come to Chandler’s apartment after a nice Italian dinner. They had a routine, at this point. Once inside his room, with the door closed, Raquel playfully walked up to him, pressing her body against his, and said, in a mock girly voice, “Oh, Mr. Bing, dinner was lovely. How can I repay you, for I haven’t any money?”

Chandler played off of her, “Then I shall have to devour you!” He opened his mouth wide, growling, and attacked her neck. He kissed her head and neck all over, and, last of all, her mouth, deeply. While he did this, she rolled her eyes and wished it to be over. Their hands strayed, and they began undressing themselves and each other. She crawled into bed while he put on a condom.

He climbed up to her feet on his knees. She allowed him to spread her legs. He guided his penis with practiced efficiency. As he entered, she said, “Ooh! Slow, slow, slow.” He backed out a bit and re-entered. He went one step back and two steps forward, until he was in as far as he could go. He pumped his dick in and out.

Raquel lay there and tolerated it, knowing it would be the last time she would have to do this with Chandler. Chandler increased his pace twice, rising to a crescendo. He looked at her face, which was being jolted upward with each thrust, before settling back. He adored seeing her hair being tossed about by his impacts.

Chandler sped up one last time, and came. He closed his eyes tightly, grimaced, and gave a kind of growl while his semen swirled into the condom. After a few moments, he backed down, and retrieved his member from her Vagina. He got out of bed to remove the condom. It was her turn to be on top, but she stopped him, “Chandler, let’s not do that right now, okay?”

Chandler was nonplussed, “You don’t want to ride on top? What’s wrong?”

Raquel got out of bed and began to dress. “Chandler, I don’t think we’re right for each other. You are a great guy, and you deserve the right girl for you. It isn’t me.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

She consoled him, “Chandler, don’t be upset. I wanted to do it this one last time to show you there’s no hard feelings. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“The mere fact that you feel the need to tell me not to be embarrassed is, in itself, embarrassing.”

Raquel kissed him on the cheek, and said, “Goodbye, Chandler.”

Chandler wondered, “Alone again, naturally.” He took a Shower, dressed, and flopped into his giant reclining chair to watch TV. But he didn’t turn on the TV. He sat, staring at nothing, contemplating his next move. He was weary of dating. Chandler had been moderately successful at it, but it was hard work, and he longed for a long-term relationship. He wanted children, and his biological clock was ticking. He was 28.

Chandler had not locked the front door after Raquel departed. Now, his roommate, Joey, burst into the apartment with his date. Joey gathered some beers from the refrigerator, and led the girl to his room. When he noticed Chandler sitting there, he introduced her, “Hey, Chandler, this is Anna. Anna, Chandler.” She waved to Chandler, and the pair disappeared into Joey’s room.

On occasions when Chandler was Horny and without a woman, he would often press his ear to the wall his room shared with Joey and listened to the sound of Sex. He sometimes masturbated listening to the action next door.

Tonight, Chandler sat in the living room, alone with his thoughts. Soon, he heard rhythmic grunting from Joey’s room. It was Anna, vocalizing as she absorbed Joey’s thrusts. After a few minutes, Chandler heard Joey’s grunts overlaid on Anna’s. That meant Joey was coming. The grunts of both lovers reached a crescendo, and then quickly faded.

Chandler estimated that Anna was pretty enough for Joey to fuck twice. After a few minutes came the sound of Joey receiving head, “Yeah, yeah! YEAH! Suck, girl. Suck harder! Suck harder! Harder! Okay, now more tongue! Slide your tongue under my cock and work it! That’s it! Deepthroat it! Try! More! I’m going to come! Here it is! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!” That was the sound of Joey dispensing semen down Anna’s throat. If Joey threw her out of the apartment immediately, it would mean that Anna wasn’t worth having again.

Several minutes passed. Joey emerged, barefoot. Anna followed, also barefoot. Joey headed for the kitchen. Joey called to Chandler, “Hey, we’re going to get pizza. Do you want in, Chandler?” Anna must give really good head!

Chandler said, “No thanks, man. I’m going across the hall.” He got up to leave, stopping for a cold beer on the way. Chandler didn’t feel like being a third wheel. He crossed the hall, knocked, and opened the door. He peeked in, and Monica and Rachel called to him from the couch, “Come on in, Chandler!”

Chandler slouched in a chair. Monica, who at all times had control of the remote control, even when she was a guest, paused the movie. Monica asked, “This is a chick flick. What’s up with you, Chandler?”

“I’m probably in the mood for a chick flick. Raquel just dumped me.”

Both girls commiserated, Rachel saying, “Oh, I’m sorry, honey! You want to talk about it?”

Monica said, “Go ahead, Chandler. This is such a chick flick thing to do, anyway.”

Chandler took a deep breath, and said, “Well, this has happened to me once before…” The girls looked at each other in surprise, and were preparing to speak. “I don’t mean I’ve been dumped once before! I mean I was dumped in this precise manner once before. Tonight, we had Sex, like normal, and she dumped me afterward. She didn’t even want an Orgasm. What’s the sense in that?”

Rachel said, “I did that once. It’s a standard trick, if you want to leave on good terms with a guy, or you just feel sorry for him. Oops, sorry, honey!”

Monica said, “She definitely knew she was going to break up with you going into tonight. This was planned. Sort of a farewell handshake.”

Chandler marveled, “Interesting concept. I don’t know if I Love it or hate it.”

Rachel adopted a sympathetic pose, “What are you looking for, honey?”

It was difficult for Chandler to look at these two women, either one of whom he would die for, and give a socially acceptable answer. He hesitated, “I want a steady relationship. I want to get married, someday, and have kids.” The girls simpered at Chandler’s nesting instinct. He wondered, “Yeah, they say they like the idea of a man wanting to settle down, but if I asked them out, they’d say no.”

Rachel said, “It seems like most of the women who want to marry in their twenties are religious, doesn’t it?”

Monica added, “That’s true in New York, but not in more rural areas.”

Chandler’s chief means of communication was sarcasm, “So I either pretend to get religion or become a farmer!? Thanks for that!”

Monica said, “Chandler, that attitude, right there, has cost you who knows how many opportunities.”

Chandler moped, “Sorry. Just got dumped. Let’s watch the movie. Who’s dying?”

“There it is, again.”

In the ensuing days, Chandler researched sarcasm, and was startled, disappointed and afraid of what he found. Chandler had at all times regarded sarcasm as a smart way to inform people of their stupidity. Now, he learned that sarcasm was ill-intentioned, rude, and counterproductive.

Chandler found that sarcasm is “the use of irony to mock or convey contempt.” It sounded ugly.

The recipients of sarcasm universally resent it and consider it mean-spirited. This was an almost existential crisis for Chandler. He tried to imagine himself without sarcasm. He would be boring and typical. Even worse, a world that badly needed a guiding philosophy would be denied one of the keenest voices of the age.

Chandler confessed to Monica, “I’ve thought about what you said about my sarcasm being off-putting. I know I’m snarky, and I’m trying to change.”

“What does ‘snarky’ mean?”

Chandler responded, “It’s origin is unknown, but think of snarky as a cross between snotty and sarcastic.”

Monica lit up and pointed at him, “Yes! That’s you! Snarky.”

“Remember, Monica, I am trying to purge my system of snarkism.”

She grew tender, “Seriously, Chandler, I think it’s great that you’re working on yourself. Everyone should, and so few do.” Chandler wondered he saw something in the way she looked at him.

Monica casually noted Chandler’s use of sarcasm for a while, and was impressed with his efforts to minimize it. Chandler was growing up.

Monica had dark, shoulder-length hair, a stunning figure, and a brilliant smile that had cost her parents dearly. Monica was a gourmet cook. She dated sporadically. She had had relationships as long as one year. She had a reputation on the singles scene of being excessively selective, and of pricing herself too high.

Monica Geller was family-oriented. She loved her parents, who were still happily married. She loved her brother, Ross. She loved New York, and Thanksgiving, and family functions. She wanted to have three kids, and had since she could remember. Monica stuck to her plans, and she planned everything. She had an orderly, almost mechanistic mind, Anal retentive and compulsively clean.

Her chosen career, graphic design, would appear to conflict with her innate nature. She wondered, on the contrary, that the two balanced one another. Out of school, she had joined a graphic design firm in Manhattan. Two years in, the company collapsed, and she was suddenly an unwilling entrepreneur.

Her parents helped her financially. One of the defunct firm’s clients stuck with Monica. As her client’s personnel moved to other jobs, they often engaged Monica in their new positions. She now had a thriving practice, and had never pounded the pavement or done any advertising. Her happy clients divided and multiplied like amoebas in a petri dish.