Depersonalization is caused by severe anxiety, and blank mind / no emotions/ inner monologue is a definitely an anhedonia symptom of major depression. If you goto a psychiatrist and tell them your symptoms, they may well agree. Extreme Depersonalization, Blank Mind, Loss of Personality, No Self, No Emotions, Loss of Inner Monologue, 100% Anhedonia, Aphantasia (Loss of Mental Vision), Zero Motivation, No Libido, Flat Affect, No sense of time, Numb Skin, Visual distortions and Visual noise, Disconnection from the body, Loss of Proprioception, Lack of Hunger, Thirst, unable to feel fatigued, Loss of Anxiety, Emotional Blunting\Numbness, Avolition, Self Disorder, Negative Symptoms of Schizophrenia. In anhedonia, the experience of pleasure from daily activities, and the sense of reward on completing tasks, is weak or absent. Whereas in emotional flatness, life’s normal emotional responses (love, sadness, compassion, guilt, anger, joy, surprise, etc) are weak or absent. Blank mind, ''Loss of soul'', anhedonia. Posted by PoolGuy on June 15, 2008, at 20:38:59. Hello, I am really sorry but this post if going to be long. I am new to this forum and this is my first post. blank mind, anhedonia, symptoms! I'm not sure if what I'm experiencing depersonalization and derealization to be honest. I've had the ruminating dp/dr in the past, but this time it's different. Depersonalization- is also what I feel from time to time. And it is almost like something is off with the world around you. ... no mind, no emotions ecept dread because of this. truenightmare Consumer 0 Posts: 3 ... I now live in a total state of blank mind and emptiness I don’t feel emotions and I cannot hold a conversation if it’s ... It can make you feel like your mind has gone blank and makes it very difficult to pay attention to the tasks at hand. That’s why I forgot Paragraph 1 by the time I got to Paragraph 3! But what it’s not doing is affecting your memory. Depersonalization, anxiety and memory loss are not connected. So don’t worry. About my 10 months living in a depersonalized state of mind (blank mind, anhedonia, memory loss etc.) ... DP/Anhedonia/Blank mind AND MEMORY. ... This study examines emotional memory effects in primary depersonalization disorder (DPD). Basically, I feel stupid, have no feelings of anxiety, emotions or depression, just blankness, with no thoughts, I can't for the life of my understand OTHER people, like I have no theory of mind of other people, and I lack a thought process, I really can't compose a single thought in my head really, its like just blank, like a severe mental block.
2018.06.22 16:39 amitkilo Blank Mind Depersonalization, Loss of Emotions, Anhedonia.
2020.09.19 04:25 Maximum-Lingonberry2 Sex internal camera
Here are my positions -
2020.09.18 14:47 BuckRowdy Sex internal camera
This is an updated and edited version of a post I originally submitted at /redditcrimecommunity. It's been updated with the latest info.
I used to search to see if I could find out Jared's salary or his net worth because to me it seemed like he had the easiest job in the world. Just stand there and smile, hold up the giant pants, shake a few kids hands at store openings and other corporate promotional events; essentially play the character of Jared from the Subway commercials.
The Midwestern everyman who once weighed over 425 pounds and lost it all by eating at Subway every day. Of course the fine print at the bottom of the screen gave the wider context to his weight loss routine, but there was a much wider, much darker context to Jared's story that would only be revealed years later.
Jared started working for Subway in 2000. By 2005 they had stopped featuring him in commercials and their sales declined by 10%. They quickly reinstated him and he was a fixture ever since.
It is true that Jared did lose the weight, and he did do it in part by eating at Subway.
At this point it would be reasonable to ask how did he get the money as a college student to eat all his meals at Subway?
Because he was running a porn video rental business out of his apartment at the time and had an extensive collection. You've got to remember that this was in an era where media of all types was more difficult to obtain. You didn't have everything at your fingertips back then.
Subway opened up on the ground floor and Jared was lazy so he started eating all his meals there.
The rest of Jared's story is marketing mythology. A friend wrote an article in the student newspaper that got published in Men's Health which caught the eye of Subway's marketing department. Jared started working for Subway in 2000 and up until about 2007 it appeared to be a marketing master stroke. That's when the reports started trickling out. In 2007, TMZ published the story about the porn rental business.
We'd learn later that as early as 2008, Subway had received serious reports about Jared from a franchisee in Florida that Jared had befriended at a few store openings. Cindy Mills, the franchisee said:
"He would just tell me he really liked them young," she says. Fogle and Mills had a sexual relationship, which lead Fogle to disclose disturbing details of his criminal activity in lewd text messages. Jared was up to no good for years, but his world really started to crumble in 2015 with the arrest of Russell Taylor. Taylor was Jared's partner in his non-profit charity and he was just as bad as Jared if not worse.
Mills says she tried to blow the whistle by phoning ad executive Jeff Moody — then CEO of the Subway Franchisee Advertising Fund Trust (SFAFT) — after Fogle had told her that he had sex both in Thailand and the US with child prostitutes between the ages of 9 and 16 years old. According to Mills, Moody stopped her mid-conversation and said, "Don't worry, he has met someone. She is a teacher and he seems to love her very much, and we think she will help keep him grounded." Mills also claims she spoke with two more SFAFT execs after Moody, but ran into more dead ends.
Russell Taylor, the former director of Fogle's anti-childhood obesity foundation, was arrested in April [of 2015] on three counts of possession of child pornography, three counts of child exploitation, and three counts of voyeurism. Taylor had gotten in trouble for texting a woman a picture of bestiality and suggesting such between the two of them. It's a sick thing to think about, but that's just what Jared and Russell were up to.
In one of those text messages, according to the affidavit, “Russell Taylor asked her if he and another adult female she identified could come to Jane Doe’s residence and engage in” an act of bestiality. The woman did not agree to that request, but told investigators “you could tell (Taylor) was serious.” She also told investigators that “she received an image file via text from Russell Taylor that depicted (another act of bestiality).” Jared's house was raided and the rest quickly became history. Subway dropped him. Sharknado 3 dropped him. Jared accused Taylor of fraud and sued him. One quarter of the funds of the charity were unaccounted for, and the only money they ever paid out went to Taylor's $73k salary.
I'm no professional but it's hard not to draw the conclusion that Jared was paying Taylor to produce child porn with a non profit charity.
The world found out about Jared in 2015, but in 2007 and 2008 two women were finding out a lot about Jared.
Jared had met a franchisee in Florida and started a sexual relationship with her. She called the FBI when Jared started texting stuff like this:
In one series of texts sent from April 2008, Fogle tries to convince the franchisee, a woman, to advertise herself for sex on Craigslist. She could make $500 per act he explains and he could watch her have sex with other men. Fogle then goes on to apparently admit to paying for sex with a 16-year-old girl off Craigslist.
The woman franchisee writes: "Is this the same website you found that 16 year old you that you f---ed?" the woman replied, according to an affadavit.
Around the same time, Jared met Rochelle Herman Walrond, a journalist who initially remained anonymous, who came forward and said that she got suspicious about Jared when he called middle school girls hot
According to the woman, Jared would often visit schools in Sarasota County, and allegedly told her numerous times that, 'Middle school girls are hot.'" She contacted the FBI who asked her to wear a wire. She went on to record Jared over a nearly 5 year period, pleading with the FBI to go ahead and arrest him with them always saying that they didn't have enough evidence and needed more.
So she tried to get Jared to incriminate himself. Over that 4.5 year period they talked about a lot of stuff, like that Jared wanted to fly to Thailand to have sex with children.
"I would fly all three of us clear across the world if we need to,"[Jared] says on the tape. "It would just make things a lot easier — if we're going to try and get some young kids with us. It would be a lot easier probably." He gave her grooming tips:
"Well, if we get them segregated out ... you know, start talking or whatever ... and we get a little closer, and a little closer and a little closer and before you know it ... it just starts to happen," the man's voice says. "But I think that girl from the broken home could be a possibility, you know." He daydreamed on the phone:
"Do you want to watch me f— a young girl, too?" the voice of Fogle asks. "Will you f— a young boy?" When Herman-Walrond asks if that would turn Fogle on, he responds with a whispered "yeah." He also, allegedly, asked her repeatedly to let him install hidden cameras in her kids’ rooms.
“I had a little boy. It was amazing,” Fogle reportedly said, in response to a question about being with children. “It just felt so good. I mean, it felt—it felt so good.”
“I had two young children at the time, and he talked to me about installing hidden cameras in their rooms and asked me if I would choose which child I would like him to watch,” she told Inside Edition. The audio recordings can be heard at this link. She reported him to Subway in 2009 and nothing happened.
At the same time this was happening, Jared was flying to New York to pay for sex with minors. He asked the minors who he paid for sex if they knew anyone else they could recommend, always stressing younger if possible.
Also, according to the charging documents:
Fogle received "images and videos of nude of partially clothed minors engaged in sexually explicit conduct," which were allegedly recorded by Russell Taylor, the former director of the Jared Foundation. Taylor was in possession of 400 videos of child pornography upon his arrest.
Taylor secretly filmed some of the minors in his home using hidden cameras that captured them changing clothes and bathing.
In 2011, someone else reported Jared to Subway via their website and yet nothing happened.
All this came raining down on Jared in 2015 when his house was raided and he was arrested and later charged with 14 acts of sex involving minors. He was ultimately sentenced to 15 years in jail and had to pay restitution to his 14 of his many victims totaling $1.4 million. His wife divorced him as quick as she could, Subway cut ties with him and the dominoes started to tumble.
All of a sudden the past reports about Jared came to light and Subway didn't have an explanation. Lawsuits started flying. Jared's now ex wife accused Subway of covering up Jared's pedophilia even from her because their marriage made Jared more grounded and more marketable.
It's now a sick joke, but at the same time of jared's arrest, Subway was trying to rebrand him as a family man.
So why didn't Subway act on the various reports it had gotten about Jared over the years? As this site puts it, it was a story bookended by laziness. Jared's laziness brought him to Subway, and their laziness in vetting stories led to the end of the Jared era with a lot of human misery left in his wake.
Subway has waffled in its response. Rather than taking the path of clear messaging and communication, and aiming to transparent and authentic throughout this terrible situation for the victims and Fogle’s family (as well as the brand), the company hasn’t been clear about where it stands in the midst of this crisis. What message was Subway sending to its employees and franchisees by keeping Fogle around for as long as it did? As soon as he went to jail he instantly gained 30 pounds
In 2016, he filed an appeal which was denied. The DA's office argued:
[that] Fogle's text messages to a woman, in which Fogle stated he would "pay big" if she could procure 14-year-old children, and that he "craved" underage Asian girls. In these text messages, he also expressed sexual interest in young boys, although there is to date no evidence that he paid for sex with male children. Later that same year, a brawl broke out and Jared was nearly killed in an attack meant to send a message to all pedophiles.
Other than that, rumor has it that Jared has it pretty easy in jail which is disappointing to hear given all that he's responsible for.
In 2017, Fogle tried to pull the Sovereign Citizen defense and claim that the feds didn't have jurisdiction over him which I imagine gave the feds a good laugh. The motion was dismissed.
In 2018, Jared sued to void his conviction going so far as to name the president (among others) as a defendant. It was unclear how the president was involved and Jared was forced to remove him as a defendant.
he was wrongfully allowed to plead guilty to conspiracy to receive child pornography, claiming that conspiracy doesn’t apply to such an offense. His suit was dismissed.
That same year a woman pen pal of Jared's sold their racy letters to Radar Online. Seen here and here. She also sold a recorded phone call where she and Jared discuss porn and his sexual preferences.
If he wanted to appeal to a parole board, surely sending hand-drawn pictures of his genitalia that later end up on radar online is not a good strategy.
In March 2020, three of associate Russell Taylor's child pornography convictions were overturned for ineffective counsel. He still faces trial on 9 other charges.
In the five years since Fogle was arrested, Subway has been reeling. In 2015, their co-founder passed away and a new CEO was brought in. Internal reports indicate that customer traffic is down 30%. They've laid off over 400 people from the corporate HQ and this summer they had to revoke a promotion due to a franchisee revolt over the pricing.
Subway was associated so long with Jared it may take time for customers to form a new association. They tried to drop him once, struggled, and re-hired him. Clearly Subway lived in denial while Jared was their spokesman and looked the other way as business boomed. The new marketing strategy involves athletes. Time will only tell if they can recover from one of the worst scandals to ever hit a sandwich chain.
As of September 2020, Russell Taylor was being held at a federal prison in Yazoo City, Mississippi; Fogle was being held at a federal prison in Littleton, Colorado.
submitted by BuckRowdy to TrueCrime [link] [comments]
2020.09.15 13:45 xryuusei Sex internal camera
Hi everyone! Continuing to clean up the makeup stash - most items are under $25 and won't be haggling unless it's >$50 order. Price/shipping already include pp fees.
Check out the freebies with min order too :) Happy shopping!
2020.09.14 16:57 GodlordHerus Sex internal camera
I'm deeply conflicted by this show, especially E2, E3 and E4. E1 was interesting and E5 good, but with a lot of faults. I have put down my 3 positives and 3 negatives
2020.09.14 11:49 IamSattam Internal sex camera
It wasn't a long dream, but here it is detailed:
I'm a male, 20 years old, Arabic, had a long inner-journey of self-discovery and struggle for the past three years, my life is mainly about humanities, philosophy, art, and the study of meaning of being, and now I hope I have finally reached a point of inner-peace and acceptance, solving my insecurities from prior bullying and loneliness and fitting my wishes for adventure in wilderness and love life to the unknowingness of the real future as they have no place in my present circumstances. Although I operate rationally, I believe meaning is found emotionally. But, as I struggle with being in a community and to belong, to find love, and to adventure in the world, I have retreated to trying to perfect my fantasy, perspective, and my surroundings.
I think the dream started as I took over the leadership of bathroom cleaning with a new team as the previous staff were only semi-optimal and not as dedicated as a perfectionist I would become. I led the cleaning party to perfectly mop the floor of a big public bathroom (about 15 stalls) of a holy place (Mecca, although I'm not a believer anymore) to welcome many people in need of it. The floors were clean, and the only dirty thing I saw was one urinal getting washed from residue urine. I was happy, or more precisely, excited, as I tend to love leadership, responsibility, communal work, physical labour, and helping others, which I barely have in my life.
In the bathrooms there were four ordinary closed doors as if to lead to other rooms. As I opened them one by one spontaneously and apologetically to the people inside, as if I'm looking for something/someone, I saw black skinned, mostly covered -Islamic dress- women sitting in something quite like a 'living room' but also a bathroom -could be a tub?- but not so clear (they probably represent the most uncommon people in my life). I remember I was told/felt that I wasn't going to find what I expected in there, but I had to check one by one as the message wasn't clear. There were no hard feelings, and in reality I rarely get stressed, disappointed, scared, etc. from the outside even in the worst places, so whether they represent something neutral or bad I probably would have had the same feeling.
After that I was outdoors in a section on the right side of the bathrooms (as in it wasn't by the main entrance) that was mostly knee-high fenced and partly covered by a large, beige umbrella to shade from the cool sun. Almost everything was white, following the real holy-place's style which is white ceramic everywhere. I started using a water hose to clean the almost perfect white ceramic tiles with very little dirt on them to a point I accidently broke a part of the exterior bathroom structure (about 100cm x 66cm or so close to the corner of the stares/building). I think it was because of the water pressure and overdoing a single place. As I've done so, an unknown person I felt familiar, although didn't see, came out of the bathrooms on the entrance close to me and jokingly laughed 'with' (me more than at me).
Some people after which helped me restore the structure, one of them was probably an acquaintance in school from the ages of 7-15 which nothing special happened with other than he was a minor friend-bully that I remember once was semi-angry I couldn't fend for myself against him (weird, probably a projection of sort). I find it difficult to see this part as vital to the dream, but could mean how small, real life challenges (and not my internal discussions) actually help me restore the structure of my life which I destroyed by trying to perfect by my perspective (which is absolutely real and an exact description of my latter journey and final realization).
Then, I was in another room, it was for camera surveillance. And as I looked, I found two rooms at least that had hot tubs filled with naked adults and I felt a weird sexual energy radiating from them, and that made me angry. In reality, I indeed was previously thinking of the difficulty I have in separating between nudity (not in art, but reality) and sexuality, (e.g. they are always sexual parts not private parts), and how I tend to dislike sex probably because of its cultural depiction, overuse, and bodily bias instead of spiritual which is why I needed to separate nudity (i.e. sex) from the spirituality found in the holy-place (although had no problem with bathroom use as it was 'natural' and not 'inappropriate'). Another thing to point out is that I was a bit angry, although I always spectate over my negative emotions and never let them disturb my inner-peace. But, I felt something from the outside, nonetheless.
The way I resolved the issue of nudity in the holy place's bathroom is by rushing to these semi-bathhouses and shutting the doors on them as in to say: "Keep it to yourself! Spirituality and sexuality cannot be integrated." I remember doing so only for one of the bathrooms, and as I've done so Slavoj Žižek of all people -Probably a Lacanian Easter Egg- whom I didn't think of recently --came rushing at me as I closed the door on them -Huh? Freud supressed sexuality or something?-
Then, the last and most important and memorable part, is as a entered a shower-room which was neatly, comfortably, and security-inducing placed in another side of the bathrooms giving their user a sense of privity and was adjacent by a bigger room that felt like a bedroom -hence familiarity- and probably used for changing. As I entered the shower-room to clean it, which only had a shower and no toilet, I figured it wasn't empty yet. In addition to that, I heard Lana Del Ray playing on a phone in the bathroom as if someone briefly left it there. Just as I realized that, a gorgeous girl (same age, about 20) came in the shower-room and looked as if she had just taken a shower but now fully clothed with wet hair. She wasn't startled, more like I was. The feeling went straight to comfort and liking, and we both wanted to hang-out with each other. But, as we greeted each other, she teased me saying we can't hang-out with each other because your head is too big for my hands. I doubted that and told her to try to hold my head. As she attempted to do so, her hands shrunk (not my head got bigger) so she couldn't hold my head. Then, I tried to hold her and she shrunk as a whole barely 5cmx5cm on the palms of my hands. And that's the end.
Weirdly, a couple of days ago I had told my friend of my feeling of staying single for a while (as in not get married before 30 which I wanted before and is quite common in our culture) and how It will be almost impossible to find someone who understands true individuating and spiritual non-attachment that I seek in the companionship of a partner (nothing like two soul merging in one depending on each other to breathe, although our individual, personal paths could be interdependent). You most know that I live in a place where the opposite gender is non-existing in your life (you can't even see your female cousins after 15) and although I struggled with that for years e.g. 15-18, I've grown independent of love (not attaching to its wish for meaning in life) and somewhat started caring for humanity as a whole and cherished my solitude (coping mechanism? alternative style? acceptance?). Not that I don't believe in love anymore or hate it, but more like take it as secondary and hard to obtain but I'd be happy if I found someone as unique as my weird personality.
Trying to interpret parts of it I concluded: My attempts were to restore order of basic spiritual needs and I might have exaggerated the work needed to restore my inner peace and to fill my needs that I over-purified and had a problem directing my emotions of others (love/sex) and world (outdoors) since false-spirituality is all about the inner-world and had tried to perfect my rationale of and for the Other that I broke parts of my soul and found it hard to be in irrational love. It is like saying sometimes imperfection is part of perfection. (also such acts could have been for the sake of my parents/culture which held me from being the adventurer and the lover I wanted to be so I needed to justify it for them.)
My acts were also welcoming of other people (cleaning public restroom) and new adventures and sensations into my life (wanting company of a female), but my direct intentions (head) and work (hands) weren't supporting of love (girl) and the irrational intuition (femininity) that I couldn't have it when it was in-front of me and I wanted it (she shrunk).
Still more to interpret such as why it was a collective cleaning (wishing for a community? sense of belonging?), what's with the four rooms and black, covered women (Not finding what I want, know, and relate to?), what were Zizek and Lana Del Ray doing (although I read how Lana Del Ray wants a different kind of femininity that is much more feminine somewhat more interdependent that independent, which is not my usual choice as I like strong personalities), why Mecca (although the last time i went there it was almost a pivotal point in my beliefs and I became a bit atheistic), why was the girl showering (to know that irrational intuition is pure and even if I loved it but thought it was misleading?)
I think I'm being told that I'm over-purifying myself that I led my emotions to destabilize me and what I truly need is real challenge and intuition/love of others. If one would summarize my current challenge in life then this is exactly it and it is what I've been thinking about. Where I live there isn't really the Irish acre of farmland I wished I had, I'm not a farmer, or a tutor in the Victorian age as I fantasize about, I'm not with and probably nor can even meet someone who had journeyed inward and understood true individuating and simplicity of life (or any female for that matter).
I hope you had fun reading it and it has inspired you to try to interpret your dreams and memorize them, and now I'd love to hear your interpretations and advice. Thanks for reading!
submitted by IamSattam to DreamInterpretation [link] [comments]
2020.09.12 23:20 Spleen_McQueen Sex internal camera
Part 1: It's levels to it
Part 2: Kung- Fu Kenny/ Gemini/ Two Lives
Part 3: "I put on repeat, Kanye's touch the sky!"
Part 4: Kendrick's Mission RECAP:
We’ve established several ideas that run through Kendrick’s discography in the previous posts. Number one was “levels” and how Kendrick has alluded to numbering his projects and a finality in his work at level ten. The second post was about how Kendrick has always had Kung-Fu Kenny by his side, that he has always fought an internal battle and how that duality reflects on the entire world. I also talked about the idea going further and his duality becoming a second life. The third post highlighted the recurring imagery of planes, ufos and the sky as well as Kendrick comparing himself to an alien or angel. I concluded that most of these ideas were about reaching the top, the peak of the industry and reaching another plane of existence.
In this post I’ll be researching what Kendrick’s purpose is and what he plans to do once he reaches the top. As I’ve said, he is trying to reach the top/ sky/ clouds and perhaps he already has, figuratively. Here, I’m trying to figure out exactly what Kendrick is trying to do with this power, what he plans to teach the world. Kendrick is a part of our new generation and he knows he has to do his part in trying to make this world a better place to live. This is his movement and it's called HiiiPower.
So I’ll be highlighting anything that mentions Kendrick’s purpose/ mission/ plan.... what he intends to do to change the world. I’ll also be mentioning moments where Kendrick alludes to changing things, pushing boundaries as it builds onto the legitimacy of this theory.
Note: It gets spicier at Level 4.
Minor City Hub Threat/ Level 1
And it takes a young nigga like me to push the limit No gimmick, this is real homie I wake out of my sleep, sweat drippin' off my face and cheek I swear to God, death callin' for me-TRACK 12
Mapped out the whole game to reroute it ‘Cause look here boo you fucking with a champion K Dot the don, moving the blocks you on Taking a spot of shawn, I'm on top your own Industry remember me, cause I so crazy-PUT THAT ON SOMETHING
I got some plans, to stack riches-BIGGIE
Own 76′s like a Philadelphian
You don't know but now I'm focused like camera lens
You wanna witness the livest nigga existin' Then come and pay me a visit, you have to pay for admission I'm on my mission to conquer my competition-GO DJ
Where the pump at-One Shot Kill
Thinking of a master plan
Mothafucker Im a master mind
Im a 18 year old dollar sign
Im a one man tragedy
Shit you already know what im about
Let them sell his soul-One Shot Kill
Put his body on retail
If we do dirt
And you tell
We gon’ put you under dirt
He was a good person
He was down to earth but now he down to earth
Chillin with the worms and the insects his brother gon’ be next
His mother gon’ be after him kill the family tree
If they fuckin with him and that him is me
When the lights get dark- Blame God
And everybody quiet, know its my part
I might start a riot
The main event
“When I do it, it won't be nothing right after I'm done- BEST RAPPER ALIVE
When I ruin niggas' careers, put you niggas in tears
Get you pom poms, you better off, cheer for me”
This business got too many villains-Never Die
Superman is back
The cape ain't red, it's black
That's a trench coat
And the note for your information if we was dead this reincarnation
Watch your heads
I am the truth, no lie about it- PROTOTYPE
Bring my testimony when I walk in that booth
Walking the thin line between love and hate, I defend mines
Join them when it comes to their crunch time, I never fold
I love pressure, that's why I apply so much on niggas thinking they better
I am a clutch shooter, I am a sharp shooter
And it's great enough to hear the butterfly moving
I know I'm walking the path of greatness, no compass- I FEEL IT
Not Atheist, but the bars reside with Satan
Maybe I give you the funk“Now if I give you the funk, you gon’ take it....We want the funk!” -King Kunta
George Clintion bring by the sentence
like I got a english major in it
- GOOD MORNING AMERICA
With a bible and a reverend I use my mouth as a weapon Bullets rip through your mid section- Phone Home
Show me where your fans is so they can see the real-Phone Home
I'm sick and electrifying, that's double ill
Me feel like me will be a legend like Will was a legend
But I'm not an actor, put that in my will
Now everybody just bow to the greatness, or die in the matrix-Thanksgiving
Your hereby dating, my destiny's waiting
My itinerary is very hectic
I break records on every record, I'm truly reckless
I'm live, come to the harvest, welcome the artist-Thanksgiving
Whose lyrics out of the orbit, more than the hardest rapper
To hit the market and market myself as a shooting target
With offers that got me up in these offices often
Boo-yaa, who ya? No one, I've done situated myself, I ain't lying
Be sure to be friend cause my foes die five times
The good kid from the mad city
Holding a cereal box instead of a Glock
In a 1992 Cadillac that I got from my pops
Transmission slipping, but I ain't tripping, swallow my pride
Vanity, they say that it can damage me-Let Me Be Me
So do I really want it?
If I didn't, I guess I'm a cool cocaine connect
That means I'll be frontin'
Cooking in a laboratory, hoping I can tell a story
That the whole world can feel, like the ones that came before me
Knowing that I'm misunderstood
So I gotta get my point across like a snitch would
Give me vanity, give me Kurt Cobain sanity-Is It Love?
Give me a city where Channel 7 newscasters cameras be
Give me horror like Amity, no, give me the charts
And if you ever renege, I'll still give you Kendrick Lamar, this is me
And that's love
Malcolm X mind state, if I raise the crime rate-Celebration
It's a legitimate reason why
I put on repeat Kanye's "Touch the Sky"
But I'll be looking past that I'm tryna touch God
My heart to the heavens, the rebel of the reverend
Y'all married to the game well I'm 'bout to crash weddings
I put a lot of pain in the shit I write
If you going through something, this the shit you recite
This is bigger than life, this is Kendrick Lamar
This is Jimi Hendrix guitar on tour, bonjour, I mean war like that!
Yeah, straight like that
When I kick it and pump mine, I've got to be a prophet-Thanksgiving
I've gotta make a profit big enough to have a thirty pound wallet
I found myself losing focus at a Sunday service-Faith
Embarrassed so I start questioning God, "What is my purpose?"
He said to live the way he did, that's all he want from me
Spread the word and witness, he rose on the first Sunday
And I'm the God MC, join my diocese-P&P
Free your mind, don't mind society
And finally, everyone got their own problems
Everything is subject to change like broken dollars
But little did they know, I’m tryna' change the rulesSince he’s not happy with the industry, he’s gotta change it himself.
That we’ve been confined to, so the corporate won’t make decisions
Uppity bitches, handling business
Killing our dreams, stealing our vision
The Heart Pt.2
Have you ever felt like, like you never get life?-Barbed Wire
Like you never did right, sort of like a black sheep?
Tryna get away from the world's stereotype
Barbed wire got a barricade on your destiny
What is HiiiPoWeR?-Cut You Off
HiiiPoWeR is the way we think, the way we live
See it’s known today that the human race is nothing
No morals, no standards
What we’re about to do is raise the level of expectations
No, you don’t have to have a lot of money
You don’t have to be rich
But you will be rich in mind and spirit
Some say it’s as big as a crew, some say it’s as big as a gang
HiiiPoWeR, we stand for it as if it’s as big as a religion
Sometimes we lose focus, planning our own demise-Growing Apart (To Get Closer)
Forgetting the big picture and making it wallet size
So to what is important in my life, I apologize
I promise to stay faithful, focused and sanctified
We all get distracted, the question is
Would you bounce back or bounce backwards? Would you not know
How to act or take action? It’s just a part of life
And if your vision’s impaired, you probably lose it all tonight
I'll make an album that'll put a smile on Malcolm-Ignorance is Bliss
Make Martin Luther tell God I'm the future for Heaven's talent
No tarot card reading; I'm foreseeing you niggas vanish
Not only from the rap game, I'm including the planet
Or everything getting shot, for nothing-ROTC
Leave you in shock, coughing up blood and mumbling
Watch, the plans of a young man sponsor
But lately, I've been thinking 'bout taking chances to brighten-ROTC
My future financially, so please don't be mad at me
I gotta do what I gotta do, no shit
So I tell my nigga front me, let me put it on the strip
Then give it back when I think about the consequence, shit
And if our record never break, I still won’t break my promise-The Heart Pt.2
I promise to keep it honest
Secret society all we ask is trust
And all we lack is communication like service sucks-The Heart Pt.2
The people scared of annihilation when Kingdom Come
Fire burning inside my eyes, this the music that saved my life-Fuck Your Ethnicity
Y'all be calling it hip-hop, I be calling it hypnotize
Yeah, hypnotize, trapped my body but freed my mind
What the fuck are you fighting for? Ain't nobody gon' win that war
My details be retail, man, I got so much in store
So don't you mind how much the cost is, penny for my thoughts-Fuck Your Ethnicity
Everybody, please hold up your wallets
Yeah man, I'm the mailman, can't you tell, man?
Going postal, never freeze up, when I approach you
That's starstruck and roast you, oh my
I'm just a messenger, yeah, I know life's a bitch, get the best of her-Fuck Your Ethnicity
Put them 3's up, they notice that we up, HiiiPower
And the power in the people and if they don't believe us
In the daily superstition that the world is 'bout to end-ADHD
Who gives a fuck? We never do listen
'Less it comes with a 808 (A melody and some hoes)
As I open this book and then burn up some of this reefer-Kush & Corinthians
My plan is to figure out the world and escape all my demons
I'm dying inside, I wonder if Zion inside the heavens
To the meaning of life, what's my purpose?-Kush & Corinthians
Maybe this Earth is ain't a good place to be
How far is heaven? Let's see
Is it in the clouds like they said it would be?
I wonder when I die will he give me receipts?
I wonder will the eyes of the Lord look at me?
Come to our show, you can see the diversity-Ab-Soul’s Outro (Ab-Soul)
Unify the people, they gon' peep it universally
We might not change the world
But we gon' manipulate it, I hope you participatin'
Started HiiiPower because our generation needed a generator-Ab-Soul’s Outro (Ab-Soul)
In a system meant to disintegrate us
And all we do is assist them
We're not victors, we're victims
The bigger picture isn't developed yet
You know what all the things have in common?-Ab-Soul’s Outro
Only half of the truth, if you tell it
See I spent twenty-three years on the earth searching for answers
'Til one day I realized I had to come up with my own
I'm not on the outside looking in
I'm not on the inside looking out
I'm in the dead fucking center, looking around
You ever seen a newborn baby kill a grown man?
That's an analogy for the way the world make me react
My innocence been dead
If you don't leave with nothing else tonight,-Ab-Soul’s Outro
you will leave with knowing yourself
You will leave knowing that you represent
something thats bigger than all of us
Visions of Martin Luther staring at me-HiiiPower
Malcolm X put a hex on my future, someone catch me
I'm falling victim to a revolutionary song, the Serengeti's clone
Enough to drive a man insane, I need a license to kill-HiiiPower
I'm standing on the field full of land mines
Doing the moonwalk, hoping I blow up in time
Cause 2012 might not be a fucking legend
Tryna be a fucking legend, the man of mankind
And everything on TV just a figment of imaginationKendrick is building his own religion and stories.
I don't want plastic nation, dread that like a Haitian
While you mothafuckas waiting, I be off the slave ship
Building pyramids, writing my own hieroglyphs
I mean the shit is, Huey Newton going stupid-HiiiPower
You can't resist his HiiiPoWeR
They say conversation rule a nation, I can tell-Poetic Justice
But I could never right my wrongs
'Less I write it down for real, P.S
Every time I write these words they become a taboo-Poetic Justice
Makin' sure my punctuation curve, every letter here's true
Livin' my life in the margin and that metaphor was proof
I'm talkin' poetic justice, poetic justice
If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room
Would you trust it? I mean, you need to hear this
Love is not just a verb, it's you lookin' in the mirror
Love is not just a verb, it's you lookin' for it, maybe
All my innocence while ignorin' my purpose to persevere-Good Kid
As a better person; I know you heard this and probably in fear
“Searchin' for resolutions until somebody get backYou could maybe break this down as him trying to become a better person by letting go of the feelings he lays out on DAMN and leaving the Earth. As FEAR continues his cousin says that he must return to the original commandments to not feel chastised.
Fear, what happens on Earth stays on Earth
And I can't take these feelings with me, so hopefully they disperse
Within fourteen tracks, carried out over wax
Wonderin' if I'm livin' through fear or livin' through rap
Mass hallucination, baby-Good Kid
Ill education, baby
Want to reconnect with your elations?
This is your station, baby
I blow up every time we throw up a record-Compton
Depending on what you expecting, I'm sure it's bigger than your religion
Perfected by niggas that manifested music to live in
A smart man if I keep my feet planted-Now or Never
To the earth 'cause the people that hurt can understand it”
For you to hear Kendrick persevere-Now or Never
Defenses I feel relentless
Ambition with a clear vision
Takin' off I ain't takin off these Pistons
I'm takin' off on the inner me - you're distance
Came across me, how much it'll cost me
To get you out my business
I said a planet is a short term goal, no sky is the limit
I said Hiiipower, one time you see it-Grammy 2016 performance (untitled 05)
Hiiipower, two times, you see it
Hiiipower, two times, you see it
Conversation for the entire nation this is bigger than us
I can attempt to enlighten you without frightenin' you-Momma
If you resist, I'll back off quick, go catch a flight or two
But if you pick destiny over rest in peace
Then be an advocate, tell your homies especially
To come back home
I can see-These Walls
Your defense mechanism is my decision
Knock these walls down, that’s my religion
It's such a shame they may call me crazy-Blacker the Berry
They may say I suffer from schizophrenia or somethin'
Once I finish this, witnesses will convey just what I mean-Blacker the Berry
Been feeling this way since I was 16, came to my senses
This plot is bigger than me, it's generational hatred-Blacker the Berry
It's genocism, it's grimy, little justification
Dreams of reality's peace-I (live)
Blow steam in the face of the beast
Sky could fall down, wind could cry now
Look at me motherfucker I smile-
Finna run into a building, lay my body in the street-I (single)
Keep my money in the ceiling, let my mama know I'm free
Give my story to the children and a lesson they can read
And the glory to the feeling of the holy unseen
Seen enough, make a motherfucker scream, "I love myself!
Let these words be your Earth and moon, you consume every message-Mortal Man
As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?-Mortal Man
When shit hit the fan—
(one two, one two)
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
You wanna be remembered that delivered the message-Mortal Man
That considered the blessing of everyone
This your lesson for everyone, say;
Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant-Mortal Man
Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations
That the caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggle
Although the butterfly and caterpillar are completely different
They are one and the same
And Nazareth gon' plead his case-DNA
The reason my power's here on earth
Salute the truth, when the prophet say
Tell me when destruction gonna be my fate-DNA
Gonna be your fate, gonna be our faith
Peace to the world, let it rotate
Sex, money, murder—our DNA
I can feel it, the phoenix sure to watch us-FEEL
I can feel it, the dream is more than process
I can put a regime that forms a Loch Ness
I can feel it, the scream that haunts all logic
It’s a secret society-LOYALTY
All we ask is trust (All we ask is trust)
All we got is us
I promise to keep it honest-LOYALTY
Secret society all we ask is trust”- The Heart Part 2
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty
10-4, no switchin' sides
How they look at me reflect on myself, my family, my city-FEAR
What they say 'bout me reveal if my reputation would miss me
What they see from me would trickle down generations in time
What they hear from me would make 'em highlight my simplest lines
Fear, what happens on Earth stays on Earth-FEAR
And I can't take these feelings with me, so hopefully, they disperse
Within fourteen tracks, carried out over wax
Searchin' for resolutions until somebody get back
Fear, what happens on Earth stays on Earth
And I can't take these feelings with me, so hopefully they disperse
Within fourteen tracks, carried out over wax
Wonderin' if I'm livin' through fear or livin' through rap
All my innocence while ignorin' my purpose to persevere-GOD
As a better person; I know you heard this and probably in fear” -Good Kid
For the cause, I done put blood on sword
Everything I do is to embrace y'all
Everything I write is a damn eight ball
Everything I touch is a damn gold mine
Everything I say is from an angel
2020.09.08 19:32 Kobachi232 Camera sex internal
Two chapters are available (A prologue and the first part of Chapter One) for reading below. Days are chapters, and hours are parts. Critique and give feedback however you please! Please also include spelling and grammar mistakes that you catch.
Mild Language (+13) Description:
Earth is dying. For Koby, this is both a blessing and a curse. The curse is that he has limited time to spend time on the planet he lives on. However, the blessing is that he now has a chance to go to different planets to create a new society, and for Koby, a new outlook on the future he envisioned when he was a young child. Thankfully, the SCI have given Koby that opportunity thanks to the newly formed "The Return for Us Humans", a program where young adults like Koby can fulfill their dreams in the way they intended. But things become more complicated when Koby starts to get into intense situations that are completely out of his control...
When someone asked you what you thought the future would look like, what comes to mind? Do you think of flying cars and extremely tall light-blue skyscrapers as homes and businesses? How about hyperspeed, teleportation, time travel, or the ability to make anything out of thin air? What about, I don’t know, hoverboards, hover shoes, hover...dogs? Well, to be honest, I would’ve been right there with you when I was very young.
It seemed that back then, everyone was hyping up the future like a new revolutionary video game, or a birthday present that could only be opened until it was the last present left. Everyone at my school was predicting what the whole world was going to look like. Robots, edible metal (if you're into that sort of stuff), and projecting the images in your head from just thinking about them. When I was five years old, I thought Earth was going to be “one cool place”.
Thirteen years, one-hundred and eight-five days, six hours, two minutes, and seven seconds have passed, and I have now finally realized to throw all those ideas and expectations out of my 35-floor crumbling apartment and into a barely functional paper shredder that’s just sitting on the side of the road. You, and I, were dead wrong.
Hi, I’m Koby. I’m eighteen, and I have decided to keep a Personal Log, or as some nerds call it a “Diary”. This is to give information back to my local headquarters when I am discovering new things. However, I love to talk to myself very frequently, and sometimes those friendly conversations will turn into frustrating and stressful rants. It’s a good thing I’m on the “Personal” mode, because I think my higher peers will have trouble deciphering whether or not I’m doing my job correctly. I guess I owe you an explanation as to how I got here today and what has happened over the years. To put it simply… Planet Earth is dying. Many people are speculating what exactly is causing this problem, but I feel like I’m the only person that knows the true reason why: These people are stupid. Now, yes, maybe I shouldn’t be so broad about this, because everyone on this planet isn’t stupid. It’s more like the people that I’m working for are stupid: The SCI.
Several years ago, almost the entire planet was bought by the SCI, or the Sufficient Control Incorporated. Don’t ask me how, but it is summed up into “The SCI has money to spare”. After that, the SCI divided each continent into a “sector” as well as giving each a sector number. The more efficient the continent is for the SCI, the lower the sector number is. For example, North America was renamed “Sector 1” and Africa was changed to “Sector 6”. This gave SCI employees the opportunity to focus on other sectors that had higher sector numbers, like Africa or Asia. They paid more attention to reducing crime, providing medical supplies, and creating energy resources to make them have a more efficient workforce. That meant that very little would be contributed towards places like North America because the SCI thought that we could maintain our own sense of capitalism with little to no help. Now, this plan works… in theory… if you only care about making money. In actuality, it was a trainwreck. Because they focused on helping the “least efficient” countries, which was all fine and dandy, they just assumed that since the SCI was a North American company, they should take most of all the materials from the U.S. and give them to everyone else because they thought we would “live without having to bend down and cry mercifully at their feet”. Not to mention that North America isn’t 100% efficient… God, this word is so fucking terrible. We still have poor areas, obesity rates, and coal dependency in America. What makes them think that everyone has their own personal butlers just to ask for a bottle cap opener?
This plan ultimately failed, as almost the entire country of the United States protested against it, and even the other countries were not appreciating the half-assed effort they put towards the program. Various orders of food packages were missing, the water was not even close to clean or sanitary, and the medicine they received were barebones and unlabeled. Most of the time when the people complained, the SCI just shrugged their shoulders and clocked out early. So what did those stupid-ass SCI scumbags do? Well, they cancelled all their plans for doing work for other countries and kept the names because they thought they sounded cool, I guess.
The next few years to come would be absolutely horrible. It was like the only thing that the SCI did right was twiddling their thumbs in succession. During the plan, they practically left Antarctica to rot since it was given the name “Sector 0”. Some global warming here, some melting ice caps there, and a polar bear extinction thrown in there for extra chaos, and you got yourself a problem. One, massive, giant, enormous fucking problem. The whole country completely melted, and it set off a chain reaction affecting the climate for the entire world. Africa was cold as hell and places like Greenland were so hot you couldn’t go outside for more than 15 minutes. There were plenty of other problems that varied in how they affected the world, like terrifying and dangerous weather, certain species of animals rapidly dying, and the overabundance of water in oceans. They were all effects of the Antarctic fiasco, and they didn’t stop.
Days felt like weeks, and weeks felt like months, and months felt like… well they didn’t feel like years… it was more like decades. The SCI were getting slammed with the rest of the world, and the SCI didn’t really care until they heard the only news that they would ever care about by a group of scientists that came to a jaw-dropping conclusion: Earth was going to explode in nine months. To sum it up, they said that due to the overall state of the overwhelming temperatures and weather patterns, certain elements like chemicals and molten lava, would suddenly rise from the inner portion of the planet to the surface, causing Earth to become “naturally unstable” (from the scientists, not me), leading to the Earth exploding and dying. It was only then that the SCI seemed to give a shit, but there was little left to do. They couldn’t correct any of their mistakes because they were too long gone.
Five months before the Earth was predicted to go off like a ticking time bomb, the SCI started another program. A space program to be more specific. It’s called The Return for Us Humans, or as I like to call it the “TRUHhhhhhh”. Hmm… I thought that was a good one. But I guess it’s a lot less funny now because I have officially enrolled in this program. This program is specifically designed for adults, like me, to explore our mostly unknown space to find another place to live life on with some technologically advanced space pods. We will be given a stash of food, water, and some other stuff that you could pack to take with you. The reason why I signed up? I want see a much better future on a planet that maybe, just maybe, a stupid corporation won’t destroy. I want my future, the future I wanted back when I was a child. I’m labeling this segment as “Day 0” because we leave tomorrow. We leave to seek new planets that have a similar atmosphere as Earth. That’s the only way that we will survive. It may be difficult and maybe even impossible for some, but I will see a future worth living in.
Alright. I have to go to bed. I leave at 5:37 a.m. and I need all the sleep I can get. If I continue, I will probably wake Alex. I’ll talk about her tomorrow, but for now...
Day 1, Hour 5
I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock. The random Christmas music playing from the alarm clock was not fitting considering it was in the middle of spring.
I had slept on a blow up mattress that was mostly deflated, laying on a dirt infested wooden floor. I also severely underslept due to all the partying downstairs of those rat bastards. Don’t they know what’s happening today? The alarm clock sat on a makeshift table, which was basically just my duffel bag and other stuff that couldn’t fit inside the duffel bag, including photos, books, some large clothes, and my factory issued 9-Tech energy pistol.
I slugged my hand over to the alarm clock to try and turn it off, but it was a little too far away. I moved closer to it, my body now hanging halfway over the mattress. As I went to try and hit the switch to turn off the alarm, my finger slipped and slightly pushed the damn thing instead. It hit the floor with a slight thud. I then heard a pop, and my body was slowly gravitating towards the ground. Great! I just popped my mattress. At least I turned my alarm clock- FUCK! I somehow broke that too! God fucking damnit!
I have no time to waste. I need to get ready. It’s 4:50 and I’m not even heading down there. I rummaged through my bag and pulled out some soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as a clean towel that even I’m surprised I found.
I opened the bathroom and started to work. As I turned on the shower, I decided to multitask by brushing my teeth so that my shower water could at least get to lukewarm. I put some spray on that was given to me by the apartment manager, and I immediately regretted my decision to use it because it was expired. At least I thought it was expired. It smelled like a orgy of dead animals all thrown in a dumpster that was on fire. I don’t know how that happens, but that smell is now on my hair and armpits. I then corrected my mistake by scrubbing the bad parts with the soap I had, and I actually felt clean. This process took me about a quarter of an hour to finish, which in my mind, is pretty good. But not as good as Alex’s routine, or as she claims.
“I only had to take ten minutes to clean myself up!” Alex boasted as she packed up the rest of her essentials. “I even did it before you woke up.”
“I don’t even think I ‘woke up’. I probably slept for a collective thirty minutes.” I shot back.
Alex, though sounding incredibly mean and agonizing, is actually a very good friend. When I moved away from my parents to go to California, which is where I currently am, she invited me into her apartment. This was about five months ago, back when I was tempted to take the program’s offer. She was really sweet and even told me stories of what she did when she was a little kid. She even told me that she was also going to enroll into the program too, and I was glad that I would at least have a friend that would join me in my quest to find our future. Though she can be a bit bratty at times-
“What?!” She jolted back, “You’re telling me that you can’t sleep through some drunk guys partying to old classic songs? I, for one, slept like a rock.”
“Of course you did.” I replied with a sarcastic tone. “Because you’re Alex, and Alex is perfect in every way imaginable. She can even sleep through a gun being shot by a policeman when one of the ‘drunk guys’ threatened him with a broken bottle.”
“Wait, what?” Alex questioned.
“When I said ‘a collective thirty minutes’, I meant it.”
She rolled her eyes and entered the bathroom. I did the same, but went over to my stuff to shove my other things in the bag. As I was putting some clothes away, a picture fell off the bag and onto the floor, I picked it up and saw that the picture was a photo of me and my family sitting on the couch for our annual Christmas photo. As I looked at it, I shook my head. Why? Because everyone except me was frowning.
There were two reasons why I left Ohio: 1) The program, and 2) My awful family. Ever since I grew up, I have been constantly been left in the dark by my parents and my memories ruined by my siblings. Not only that, but everyday, my parents were boring. Boring as fucking dirt. They are probably still living under the same rock I lived under for seventeen years of my life. If something amazing was happening, they would shrug it off and go back and do their painfully mediocre jobs. I swear, the only thing that I heard at the dinner table every night was “So, Koby. How’s your overly obsessive, underperforming, not-so-great paying job?” only to have the entire family laugh at me for the rest of dinner. The phrase has been permanently jackhammered into my brain. Like, why is it funny to laugh at a teenager that just got a job as an electronics expert. I mean, yes, the pay was incredibly lacking, but the job was something that I was good at. But that wasn’t their vision for me. Their perception was me failing at everything I did, breaking everything I touched, and forgetting everything I heard. Even when I was forced to quit because the company had gone bankrupt due to financial quarrels, they still asked the same question. Over. And over. And over again, until I had had enough. When I was old enough to live on my own, I finally grew the balls to pack up my belongings, open the door, look back one last time, and say the words: “Go fuck yourselves and go to hell.”. And I remember, in that moment, my mom had changed the look on her disgusting, demented, horrible face. It was more of a worried, concerned, oh-crap-what-have-I-done look. I remembered when she grabbed my arm and tried to forcefully drag me back into our house, and I also remembered turning around and punching her in the gut, fleeing the scene afterwards. I heard the sounds of little footsteps rushing towards my mom, who was crying. My siblings heard what was going on and rushed to her side. They didn’t know any better, so I didn’t blame them. That was the last time I saw anyone in my family.
Ever since then, I have received a dozen emails and messages from my siblings, my mother, and even my deadbeat (well he’s not really a deadbeat; it just makes me feel better when I label him as a deadbeat) father. All of them are summed up to “Please come back so that we can know you’re safe.” but all I read was “Please come back so that we can use you as a punching bag again.”. They will never change, and yet they keep resending the same damn emails that I now don’t have the time nor the patience to read. They are pathetic attempts of sympathetic and comforting words compacted into a single, messy paragraph. They have even sent me threats, too. Because that makes a lot of sense. Threatening your son by sending him death threats and jail time is a great way to convince him to come back home. In all honesty, I hope they blow up with the rest of the world. And that they go to hell. The cherry on top is if they actually do have sex with themselves. It’s funny to think about.
Regardless, I still brought the courage to stuff it in the farthest corner of my bag. I put on my uniform that was shoved in the small closet. It read “TRUH Member #059” with my name on it. As I was getting my bag, Alex came out of the bathroom, and she was not only ready, but she had her stuff packed neatly and securely in her bag, whilst I looked like a mess with random stuff tightly compacted in random areas of my survival backpack.
“Jeez, Koby.” Alex piped up, “You look like you ran a marathon and threw up an hour later.”
“That’s a cute insult.” I shot back, “Can we just go or are you just so entrenched in insulting my intelligence and the way I look?”
Alex smiled, and gave me a devilish look. “OK, alright! If you’re ready to leave, then let’s go.” She giggled.
I rolled my eyes again and giggled with her. I opened the door to the hallway. Man, I am not going to miss this place one bit. Especially those dumbass partygoers that pissed me off and made me feel like an insomniac. We headed down the rickety stairs. The stairs that always creaked a certain way to know if someone was coming. It was loud and long enough for us to know who was coming up, so we could hide just in time before the manager caught us. Curfew was just so unfair. We couldn’t wait until morning.
“If we get paired up, that would be the best thing in the world.” Alex chirped as we walked into the main lobby area. I smiled. That would be fantastic, considering that she is the only friend I managed to make ever since I got to California.
As we opened the doors to the apartment building, we were met with a huge marching line of other enlistees. They were all walking right next to a red brick wall with a pair of train tracks overhead. You could see some billboards with either some dull advertising or a message for TRUH enlistees, but all of them were old and had parts that were falling apart or getting ripped off. The sky was pretty cloudy, and the temperature was pretty cold for having a black and grey jumpsuit on. I looked down the line and saw that we had a pretty far walk.
“You ready?” Alex asked as she turned to face me.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I replied.
Then a surge of anxiety kicked in. My heart started pounding like crazy, and my body was sweating profusely. But why? I’m fine! I’m going on a journey of a lifetime with a small team of adults that absolutely know what they’re doing! Right? Shit, I’m making it worse. My body feels like quicksand thrown in a smoothie… that doesn’t help, and that wasn’t even slightly funny. Ok, then just don’t do anything! Saying nothing and doing nothing except walking with everybody else. Maybe look around and see your surroundings and maybe something will make things ease up a little.
I decided to go smack dab in the middle, so I can see what everybody else was wearing. Well, that would have been lovely, but I totally forgot that everyone was wearing the same thing. The only difference from my clothes to their clothes was that mine was orange because I was a male, and the others had green if they were a female. Why not just blue and pink? That would make more sense, but I guess it doesn’t matter because there’s only so much time to pick a color when the world is ending in a few months and something like that wouldn’t be worrying to them because that problem is so much more important than my nit-pick, and holy shit I am making it even worse. I was breathing incredibly heavy. The sounds that were right next to me were getting muffled and all I heard was my heartbeat. I might just have a heart attack right on the spot.
Someone in front of me decided to go to the left lane, and then tried to make a mad dash through the alleyway to escape. Luckily, the SCI actually has a higher intelligence quotient than the average second grader and stationed a group of guards and security personnel at every place that could pose an escape plan, like an alleyway. The guy actually slipped past the guards with his quick moves, but was stopped by a chain-linked fence. You could hear his fists banging on it and him shouting for help from the others, but we ignored him.
“NO!” He screamed. “I CAN’T GO! I CAN’T GO! THEY’RE COMING! I CAN’T GO! THEY’LL KILL US ALL! WHY WON’T YOU BELIEVE ME?!”
Whoa. Wait, what? “They’re coming.” and “They’ll kill us all.”? As if my anxiety wasn’t already through the atmosphere (not the roof, the atmosphere), but now I have to listen to that play inside my head again and again. Move over “So, Koby. How’s your overly obsessive, underperforming, not-so-great paying job?”. There’s a new kid in town, and he’s a deranged sentence coming out of a deranged man.
Oh, great, here we go.
They’ll kill us all.
Now I couldn’t hear anything except a high pitched ringing noise. It wouldn’t stop. I slowed down and put my hands over my ears. I was crying. Tears streamed from my face, and I couldn’t stop them either. My vision got all foggy and I couldn’t see anything but a thick white fog for what seemed to be miles on end. Then, a silhouette of a person started coming towards me. Whispering my name.
I was jolted back into reality by Alex, who was now with me at the end of the line with all the other enlistees. She was staring into my eyes, and she looked worried.
“What?!” I sniffed. I was still trying to hold back the tears I had earlier. The ringing had stopped and my vision was intact.
“You were crying! Are you OK? I asked you, like, a couple minutes ago if you were ready and you said yes! Are you sure you're ready?” Alex barked at me. You know, it seems weird, but her yelling at me actually calms me down. It shows me that she cares, and if she didn’t, she would've just left me there like the defenseless four year old I was acting like. I nod, and she nods back. She grabs my hand and runs up to the rest of the group.
The place that we were held up in was actually quite nice, despite our surroundings making it seem like it was a planet that was specifically used to dump trash in. The plaza is circular, with a crossroads vibe; there’s four large roads that connect to the circle. It’s surrounded by a red brick wall that’s about two feet high. The center was packed with program officials, more SCI guards, and even the CEO himself: Mr. George Smithly. George just kind of seems like a person that was just looped in this whole fiasco without even being told what he was supposed to do. He’s always looking at his cue cards, and tapping them on the little table next to him to line up all the cards into one neat stack. You can tell he’s sweating from, like, a mile away, which is why he always avoids the press. Even though he says that he doesn’t have time for cameras and microphones shoved in his face, in reality it’s because he can only keep himself together for thirty seconds. He knows that if he says anything wrong or gives out false or misleading information, then he loses his job, not that that would be a huge sacrifice considering that he doesn’t even know who to do his job properly in the first place. Oh, and he’s standing on two muddy pallets. These idiots have all the money in the world, but can’t be bothered to bring in a simple stage or even a fucking soap box. How fitting.
There are several space shuttles in front of us, but they are really... tiny. They only look like they fit two people inside. What’s the point? Why not make a massive space shuttle. The spacecraft world isn’t exactly endless, but I felt like having a space shuttle would have been a great opportunity to succeed in this task they’ve drummed up. Even if we don’t find any planets that are viable to live on, the shuttle would be our crutch until we find one. But no. No, no, no, no, hell no. If they can’t create a professional presence at this event then why would I expect something of that magnitude. The SCI interns just scrambled around on all fours to try and find a solution and came up with this. Once again, how fitting.
Mr. Smithly is now deciding to step up and talk now.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Please go to your designated areas. The event is about to begin!”
“Come on, Koby.” Alex says as she grabs me by the hand and drags me over to section A out of seven areas. A guard stepped in front of us and stopped us.
“You too need to split. You both can’t be in the same section.”
“Why not?” Alex asked.
“I’m not answering your question. Just do what you're told, young lady.”
“She’s my friend.” I added.
“I don’t care if you guys are a married couple. Move. Now.”
Alex glanced at me with a worrying look, and continued to go into section A. I’m going to try and sneak into that section through section B. They totally won’t notice.
“Oh no you don’t, shithead.” The guard yelled as he grabbed me by the jumpsuit, spun me around, and pulled on my collar so that I was right up in his face. “I’m not in the mood to play games, young man. In fact, I’m in a pretty bad mood. You know why? Because of you, and your little ‘friend’. You are going to section F, and I’m going to follow you to make sure that you stay there until further notice! Do you understand?!”
I nodded. He pushed me down to the ground and cracked a smile.
“You think you’re something special, moron? That couldn’t be further from the truth. You are nothing. You’re a cockroach right next to a skyscraper. You can’t do shit.”
Man, for a SCI bouncer, his analogies suck.
I roll my eyes and run over to my section. It’s filled with people that I have never met before, including those idiots that were drinking and listening to 50’s music while I was trying to sleep. How... fucking fitting. God, I sound like a broken record. I mean, what else am I supposed to say. That sentence just sums up my entire life. I’ve gone through so many unfortunate events that are completely out of my control to the point where I just roll with it.
As I got myself settled, Mr. Smithly turned on his microphone again.
“Greetings, everyone. Welcome to the The Return for Us Humans program created by the Sufficient Control Incorporated. My name is George Smithly-”
“We know what your name is, asshole!” a kid in the crowd chirped. I giggled.
“Quiet, you!” a guard yelled immediately afterwards.
“Anyway, welcome. Today is one of the most important days for Earth. Today, we will be leaving this dying planet in search of a new one. In a couple months, this planet will be no more. But we are in luck.”
Biggest understatement that has ever come out of this imbeciles’s mouth.
“We now have the technology to send us to places that we have only dreamed of.”
But I still have to stand on some planks of wood slapped together during this event.
“With your help, we can restart our civilization somewhere else. We can start over as a society. We can be reborn.”
What a great line. I bet the employee that wrote that must be really proud of themselves right now to know that they wrote that.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your dreams have come true, and they have come true right in front of your eyes. These space pods will fit two people at maximum. Two people is enough to create a new life is it not?”
No, but go on. I don’t have a choice whether or not I want to continue listening to your script, but please proceed.
As he started to talk about the capabilities of the space pods, I looked up into the sky to see that there was this spaceship that was coming in. Ok, so I’m confused. Why is there a spaceship? Are we going in a spaceship or the space pods? What’s the point of the concept of space pods if there is a spaceship? Whatever. It’s getting closer, so it must be something important. Maybe it’s a light show or some other childish surprise like that. Though something like that sounds impossible not because of the nature of it, but because of the SCI don’t giving two shits.
“As I stand before you today, I am now pleased to announce that the T.R.U.H. program has finally commenced!”
I assumed that people were supposed to clap, but no one is. It’s so quiet, you can hear a pin drop. The spaceship is more interesting than this whole speech. It’s all black and grey and, at least for me, that looks aesthetically pleasing. Though now that it’s closer and I’m finally getting a better look at it, there’s no logo for the SCI. Weird.
“Here is how this will work. We will start with the space pods that stand here. Once they take off, we will haul the rest behind me, and we will do this until everyone is their respectable pod, we will instruct you once we get there-”
A huge shadow consumes the surrounding area. The spaceship is really close now. It’s slowly opening its cargo doors. It’s thrusters exceeded the volume of Mr. Smithly's normal voice. He’s speaking louder now, but all my focus is on the spaceship. Why are the cargo doors opening? Are they dropping some sort of package or something. Wait. Wait, what. What the fuck?!
“Without further ado, we will now proceed with our program. Please ignore the spacecraft above and proceed to the entrances of the spa-”
You are using a JTW Recorder. Version 2.1.6. Let yourself be known and your voice heard.
submitted by Kobachi232 to BetaReaders [link] [comments]
2020.09.08 15:51 FewCicada8744 Realistic Artificial Vaginas: Perfect Masturbators, Male Pocket Pussy
The adult product industry is evolving every day.Manufacturers compete to make your senses even more enjoyable and realistic.
It seems to be difficult to surprise us, but it happens again and again! Want to choose a man’s toy, but don’t know where to start?
Our bestseller rating will help you decide!
1.Autoblow 2+XT https://preview.redd.it/hsnm5pqar5m51.png?width=692&format=png&auto=webp&s=286cf1a88c4c68fe6e9c212e910b70f2d94fa748
1. Autoblow 2
The most famous male masturbator in 2019 is an artificial vagina. But the first in most polls and ratings remain Autoblow 2.Why is it so suitable and like it for all users without exception?
Probably then, that the standard sex toy only works if you move your hands. You must check them all! And yes, the sex toy has a realistic mouth hole. Now male fun has become even more interesting!
Automatic blowjob is made possible thanks to the piston system. The motor produces translational movements instead of classical vibrations.It is enough for the user to put an artificial vagina on any hard surface and lower the penis inside.
You can start at a lower speed, then go to medium and maximum. Enrich your sensations with the vacuum suction effect to speed up the process! If you want to stretch your pleasure, open the small valve at the end of the housing and relieve pressure.
Buyer Feedback Automatic blowjob is the best male toy I’ve ever tried. I ordered the middle sleeve and was not mistaken. I think this size is suitable for 60% of guys.
I had no difficulties with cleaning and drying, as the sleeve is easily removed and inserted back.
The material is very delicate. It remains as elastic even after washing. My advice to beginners: do not start immediately with three speeds! If you are too sensitive, you may feel uncomfortable. My favorite setting is average. If you also want to try artificial vagina, start with Autoblow 2. You no longer wish to experiment with other options.
2. STOYA DESTROY COMBO You probably already heard about the legendary Fleshlight named hot beauty Stoya?
This artificial vagina has long been a bestseller and is receiving the very best reviews.But so that your sensations are complete, the manufacturers have put together the perfect kit.
Artificial Vagina Texture Sex toy begins with a narrow entrance, decorated with a replica of the body of actress Stoya. Further, the dense ring expands sharply, and a camera takes you with pointed tubercles. But do not be afraid! The material is so soft and delicate that you will only feel subtle stimulation and a pulling impression.
The next camera is also located behind a narrow ring. But this time there will be even less space.Space is gradually narrowing, and the tubercles stimulate you more and more persistently.
It seems simple, but it is not. This department will give you the most enduring experience.
Pros The artificial vagina is a tremendous male product. However, it works even better when paired with a cover in the form of a flashlight. Benefits of using the male kit:
The material is just perfect, and the sensations are better than in reality.
I had some difficulty cleaning. You need to clean each tubercle inside the sleeve thoroughly. But it’s worth it! Sleeve size will fit 70% of guys. Be sure to try it!
3. INTERACTIVE SEX WITH STOYA
This kit will be ideal for lovers of automatic sex. The male masturbator is installed inside a particular robot.You only control the settings. Moreover, each user has access to a whole catalog of hot videos in 3D format.
Description of sex Launch The automatic mode is fully synchronized with the actions on the screen of your TV. Choose any hot video on the Feelme website (after buying a sex robot, you will have access to a video library).
In manual mode, the user independently changes the speed and amplitude of the blows.
The intuitive interface allows you to forget about switching modes already during the second session.You will perform all the manipulations without hesitation.
Convenient touch strips on the right and left on the case help you to work in manual mode.
I got used to the interface very quickly. The machine can withstand several sessions without recharging.
4. Doc Johnson Mood Exciter Double-Sided Stroker
This pocket vagina doesn’t look realistic. But it has two inputs of different diameters.The cameras also have different internal textures, so the sensations are different.
The material is just unique! It is soft and slippery on the inside and slightly rough on the outside. You do not need any case to use it!
submitted by FewCicada8744 to u/FewCicada8744 [link] [comments]
2020.09.04 16:57 welcometosouthapp Sex internal camera
Friday, September 4th, 2020
I can’t believe Winston’s making me do this on my birthday!
It was sunrise on Gigi’s 19th birthday. She dragged a gas-powered chainsaw across the North Campus quad. An hour earlier, Winston had woken Gigi up with a phone call. “Fetch my chainsaw from under the bed and meet me at the library.” Click. Not even a “Happy birthday.”
So, she’d rolled out of bed in a white tank top and baby-blue yoga pants. Call it morbid curiosity. Only Winston could come up with such demands, after all.
Gigi was streaked in oil and sweat. She hobbled to the library entrance and let the hunk of metal fall to the ground. North Campus was a vast expanse of willow trees and solitude at sunrise. But something was very…off.
Suddenly, Winston popped out of the bushes and pointed a pistol at Gigi’s forehead. “You’re alone on campus on a day like today,” he rattled off. “Out of the blue, some hooligan hops out of the bushes and tells you to wring your pockets. But you’re wearing a sundress, so you don’t have any pockets. So instead, he-”
“YEET!” Gigi screamed, kicking Winston’s crotch. He crumbled to the ground, hitting a falsetto.
“Oh...shit! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“Shiiiet, it’s all right,” Winston moaned, rolling over on his back. Gigi’s frowning, pale face eclipsed the rising sun. “Happy birthday. It’s a Smith and Wesson Bodyguard. Too small for me. Be mindful of the trigger-pull and recoil. But I reckon it’s compact enough for your frou-frou jeans.”
“Oh! I...thank you! But why?” The warm gun fit in her small hand like a glove.
Winston stood up. “Hell, you’ve had my back since I got here. I reckon I oughta return the favor. I ain’t the brightest slice of pie in the knife drawer. But as long as you’re the brains, I may as well make due and be the brawn.”
I stole your other gun and our friends stole your fake IDs! is what Gigi wanted to say. “You...make me feel really safe, Winston!” is what she actually said, slipping the gun in her purse.
Winston lifted the chainsaw. “Welp, it’s time to cut some ties. We’ve got a rat in the frat. Some Alpha Beta Kappa brother pretendin’ to be one of us. See that tree down yonder? That’s their secret meet-up spot. And it’s gotta come down.”
ABK, or “All Big Kocks", started as a frat that met in an off-campus apartment. Then, Clyde (son of Dean Dale Crenshaw) took over. Overnight, the funding skyrocketed. This Honors Music Fraternity was BDE’s greatest rival. Live shows every Friday night, a 3.8 GPA entrance criteria, and co-ed. “Why go to any other frat parties?” Clyde would always argue. “When the women are already here?”
“So, about this rat,” Gigi mused, following Winston to the tree. “You asked him nicely to leave?”
“Well, let’s just say he’s branded for life. Name was Taggart, and we actually rushed together. Poor bastard.”
The lumberjack revved the chainsaw. His large pecs and biceps bulged under his shirt as he put that smoking-hot metal to work. He’d easily replaced 20 pounds of fat with muscle. And as that hundreds-year-old tree crashed to the ground, Gigi reminded herself to stay on his good side.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Winston yelled, taking off. “They’ll arrest you too! Hell, you’re the one with the filed-off serial number.”
“W-what?!” Gigi’s voice cracked as she sprinted past him.
“Fuckin’ with ya, Gigi.”
Gigi rode shotgun in Winston’s truck. She kicked off her flats and began massaging her sore feet.
“Um...I definitely stink,” Gigi laughed nervously, slipping her shoe back on. That was Winston’s cue to roll the window back up. She reached into her purse and pulled out the huge charcoal bath bomb that she stole from Sarah. “Dear Chadwick Hughes’ spirit: all I want for my birthday is a bath!”
“Hmm.” Winston drove past Firewater Hall toward Greek Row. “You’re a wanted woman,” he reminded her. “If we go to the house, you’re gonna have to sneak in. If Ryan finds ya, he’ll put your head on a pike.”
Ah, Gigi thought. Because we snuck in, punched him out, and blew up his father’s ashes. Seems...fair.
They pulled up to the BDE house and saw Ryan’s white BMW in the driveway. Winston shut off his Roush engine and instinctively pulled Gigi’s head into his lap, hiding her from plain view.
“Here’s the plan, birthday gal. I’ll go upstairs and grab a shower in the guest bathroom. I’ll save ya some hot water. Wait here, and I’ll text ya when everything’s ready.”
Winston slipped inside. Gigi lay across the passenger and driver’s seat. She thought about bailing and driving to Denny’s for free birthday pancakes. But Winston had the keys. And as her sweating, greased-up body melted in that god-awful hot truck, she decided that she really wanted that bath.
Gigi drifted off to sleep. In her dreams, she sat at a kitchen table in a massive Beverly Hills mansion. In front of Winston were a birthday cake and a huge gift bag. “Happy birthday, Winston!” she exclaimed. Winston reached into the bag and pulled out his lost Colt Single Action Army. “Ta-da! It’s your gun!” Then, he pulled out his lost BDE binder. “Ta-da! It’s your fake IDs!” Finally, he reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of yellow and white striped panties with a lacy bow. “Ta-da! It’s my virginity!”
Gigi bolted awake to her phone vibrating. A text from Winston. Ready. Use the ladder. She sat up from her puddle of sweat and made her way around the side of the house.
At the top of the raggedy fire escape ladder, Gigi reached the second-story open window. Tea candles lined the shelf of an elegant clawfoot bathtub, filled to the brim with steaming water. Beside the tub was a shower caddy containing a bottle of merlot, a bag of chocolate-covered almonds, several high-end soaps and face masks, and a note.
To my partner in crime: I reckon we managed to evade the law quite a few times since we moved here. Truth is, ain’t no bathtubs in jail. Now, enjoy all this bougie shit that I found in Claire’s room. Happy birthday - Winston.
“He writes just like he speaks,” Gigi whispered, holding the letter to her chest.
Gigi stripped down to her underwear and neatly folded her clothes in a pile. On the floor was Winston’s t-shirt and blue jeans from earlier. I’m sure he’ll wear that again! She slipped off her yellow panties. After some thought, or no thought at all, she stuffed them into the back pocket of his jeans.
Gigi lowered herself into her first college bath. Even the water felt softer and silkier than in the dorm, whose water flowed from lead-flavored pipes. She picked her brain for every get-rich-quick scheme in the book, aspiring to live in such comfort full-time.
I could blackmail Sarah and Tai about that binder, she thought, submerging her head under water. Maybe I can convince them to give me a cut of their profits! So that a poor student like me can buy clothes that aren’t secondhand! But that would mean keeping the fake IDs a secret from Winston and betraying his trust...
Gigi shot up from the water, gasping for breath. She rubbed her eyes and slicked back her jet-black hair. Then, she unwrapped the bath bomb. It fizzled as a milky grey mist clouded her entire bath.
Winston, would you forgive me? Gigi lifted her hand out of the water and read her nearly-faded tattoo. And if I take a cut of their earnings, I’ll buy the cutest outfits to wear for you. I’m-
She lowered her tattooed hand into the cloudy water, where it disappeared between her legs.
“I’m ready for you, Winston.”
“Look at this swole son of a bitch!” greeted Brother Twinston, as Winston entered the cozy living room after his shower. They and eight other pledges dressed in white button-downs and tan slacks, adorned with a BDE pin on the collar.
Winston grabbed Twinston in a playful headlock. “I reckon ain’t nobody gonna be able to tell us apart now.”
“I reckon you’re right, stunt double!” Twinston agreed. This young man was a spitting image of Winston in looks and spirit. They had met at a frat party after taking whiskey shots and reaching for the pickle jar at the same time. Bromance at first sight.
“Enough faggotry,” Ryan commanded, walking up the podium by the fireplace. As the de-facto alpha of the room, his pomade-style hair stood taller than everyone else’s. Seven AM on Friday was BDE’s weekly meeting, and brothers were expressly forbidden from taking Friday classes. Because as soon as this was over, the weekend pre-gaming would commence.
“Now, Winston!” Ryan began. “Looks like your sausage fingers got some dirt under your nails. I trust the deed was done?”
“As motherfuckin’ Shakespeare said: the tree fell, nobody was around, and it still made a fuckin’ sound. I reckon ABK’s hideout is being hauled off by a truck as we speak.”
“You’ve never had a way with words,” Ryan pointed out. “But I gotta admit: you get shit done. Now, if another rat wants to show their face, I got no problem burning down their momma’s house. Next on the list. We gotta talk about two of our…ex-members. Claire and Connor. She packed up the rest of her shit and slipped out of here last night. I’ll be posting an application for Social Chair on our Facebook page.”
Last week, after Winston had caught Claire cheating on him with Frank, she had officially stepped down from BDE.
“Hell, let’s break tradition and make it a man, for Christ’s sake!” Twinston piped up. Despite only being a sophomore, he had clout among the senior brothers.
“I’ll consider it,” Ryan said, shrugging. “You know women: always afraid of commitment. Bitch didn’t even give a reason for leaving. Although I’m not gonna lie: I’m gonna miss those tits during strip poker.”
Two muscular black brothers gave each other a crisp high-five.
“Now, onto Connor. Not only did this beta bitch get a DUI, but he had our motherfucking coke on him.” Ryan tossed a bag of red-and-white cocaine on the coffee table. “Now what the fuck did we say about taking coke out of the house?”
“Don’t go to the buyers - let the buyers come to you,” the brothers responded in unison.
“Final topic of conversation,” Ryan announced, holding up a saloon-style wanted poster. “I’d like to announce that I've delivered swift, painful justice to the bastards who stole my father’s ashes.” On that poster were security camera photos of Frank, Tweed, and Chad - their faces X’d out. Next to their images were lo-res pics of Gigi and Sarah. “I’m increasing the bounty to 2500 bucks for whoever brings me the other two cunts.”
This bounty was news to Winston. Nobody knew he was even related to Sarah, or that Gigi was currently bathing upstairs. While the brothers salivated over the reward money, Ryan swiped a fire poker cast with BDE at the tip. “We took those three bastards out to the quad and branded them for life! Sent their bitch-asses packing. But as for these two dumb sluts...I think they were the masterminds of the whole goddamn plan. I say we tie ‘em down and apply directly to the forehead!”
“Yeah, man, fuck these ho’s,” Winston played along. “They did your daddy wrong. But real talk, I say we track ‘em down and exile them from the fuckin’ campus for life. Ain’t no use in getting thrown in jail for assault. Hell, that’s where those bitches belong.”
“Winston, I’m disappointed in you, chief,” Ryan said condescendingly, slamming the poker on the fireplace with a loud clank. He walked over to Winston and stood eye-to-eye with him. Dead silence. Finally, Ryan cracked a douchey grin.
“All right, all right,” Ryan chuckled. “I’ll go easy on ‘em...that is, if they drop to their knees and suck every last drop from us until they fucking drown!”
The brothers roared like animals, chanting Ryan’s name as he ripped open the bag of red-and-white cocaine. Winston forced a painful smile as the nausea set in. Ryan leaned over the coffee table and proceeded to snort his usual Friday-morning line.
“WHO’S GOT MOTHERFUCKING BIG DICKS?” Ryan screamed psychotically.
“WE DO!” the brothers yelled, banging their chests.
“AND ON MY DEAD DAD’S GRAVE! IF ANYBODY CROSSES BETA DELTA EPSILON, WE’LL DISEMBOWEL THEM AND SHIT DOWN THEIR THROATS!”
Ryan flipped over the glass coffee table, shattering it into pieces.
The massive South Campus quad was speckled with students playing ultimate frisbee, strumming guitars, and pretending to study. It was Tai’s happy place. Ever since Jacky turned him loose, he and Sarah had been practicing Krav Maga during sunset. A zen-like hobby that helped him clear his mind and shrink his erection.
Tai landed a shaky roundhouse kick as he spotted a young lady in the corner of his eye.
“I’ve got your rematch, Sarah,” Tai jeered, landing a sloppy jump-spinning crescent kick. But as he stuck the landing, he witnessed Gigi in a traditional kimono and a chopstick bun.
“I accept your challenge in Sarah’s stead!” Gigi cheered, bowing deeply.
“Wait...huh? Where’s Sarah?”
“Ah, in celebration of my 6,939th day on Planet Earth, she elected to maintain a record of meeting notes in my dreadful Comparative Literature enrichment!”
A blank stare from Tai as he slowly shifted into a guarding stance.
“I mean...it’s my fucking birthday, so she went to class for me!” She kicked off her flats and crouched into a grappling stance. “Now, will you hand over a third of your fake ID profits? Or will I have to spill the Bush’s Bourbon and Brown Sugar baked beans to Winston?”
“W-what?! Who told you?”
“Hmmm...twas but a whisper in the wind - a grape from the vine!” Gigi inched toward Tai, who cautiously backed up.
“Okay, look...don’t, um, don’t do anything drastic! We’re gonna pay it back to him, I promise. If you think about it, we’re just doing the work for him. It’s just that...well, it’s been a tough week so we can’t really afford to give you that kind of money!”
“As you wish. I’ll have to beat it out of you instead!”
Tai threw a lunging side kick. But the swift Gigi virtually teleported behind him. She jammed her thumbs into the tender spot below his ears.
“Fool, a petite fighter such as myself must play defensively,” Gigi bragged, regrouping. “I’ve been watching you. Looks like those kicks have thrown you off balance, Mister Flat Foot!”
“You can kiss that ID money goodbye,” Tai scoffed, rubbing his pressure points.
“That’s perfectly fine, grasshopper! I don’t intend to ask for it.”
Tai side-stepped and tried for a sweep kick. Gigi raised her leg over her head like a Chinese gymnast. He fell forward from his own momentum, but Gigi pressed her foot against his face to stop the fall. She wiggled her toes, then gave him a firm roundhouse to the side of the head. Tai fell back onto the grass. As he lost his breath, she wrapped her arms and legs around him from behind. A rear-naked chokehold that Sarah would've been damn proud of.
“Jaleo gada, jaleo gada, jaleo gada,” Gigi cooed in Korean, squeezing his windpipe. And “go to sleep” he did.
Ten minutes later, Tai sat up with a start, drenched in sweat. A ring of students surrounded him.
“Break it up, dudes and dudettes!” Sarah exclaimed, forcing her way through the crowd. The students dispersed as she helped the oblivious Tai to his feet.
“Oh...fuck,” Tai groaned. He fumbled for his minimalist metal wallet. Six-hundred dollars in cash was gone.
“You got robbed, my guy?” Sarah asked, kigh as a hite.
“That’s not even the half of it. This is bad. I have a lot to explain to you.”
Tai recapped his encounter with Gigi, while he and Sarah sipped lattes on the library’s top floor.
“Holy mother of balls,” Sarah whispered after Tai explained Gigi’s blackmailing.
“Look, maybe we come clean. Do you think you can talk to Winston?”
“Not a chance in Woodstock,” Sarah replied, frantically shaking her dreadlocks. “My brother’s all about loyalty first. He’d cut my hair while I was asleep and he’d circumcise you while you were awake.”
Tai instinctively covered his crotch as they stopped at a bulletin board. “So...we’re Gigi’s bitches," said Tai. "If we owe her a cut every time we make a sale, we’ve gotta find a better market.” On cue, he swiped a flyer from the bulletin board. TONIGHT: Alpha Beta Kappa proudly presents the Housewarming Masquerade. $10 cover. All students welcome.
The good ole’ southern twins stood on the wrap-around porch, whiskey in hand.
“Look, brother,” Twinston started, patting Winston’s back. “I’ve known Ryan for a year. I know he can get a little...impulsive with his words. But that don’t mean he’s impulsive with his actions. You’re worried about them two girls, aren’t ya?”
Winston was one text message away from telling Gigi and Sarah to flee campus. During last month’s frat party, he had never thought to question why Frank and Gigi had shown up in the first place. It never occurred to him that they were there to blow Ryan’s father’s legacy to smithereens.
Ryan stumbled out in a bright red bathrobe that matched his stuffy, red nose. “Shit, I almost forgot to ask ya, Winston,” he slurred. “I meant to collect your fake ID money for this week.”
Winston was so close to coming clean. Some jack-off stole the binder! he wanted to say. But the punishment for having lost it would be swift and fierce. So, he reached into his wallet and pulled out 600 bucks, straight from his own student loan account.
“Geez, tough week again, huh?” Ryan jeered, snatching the cash. “Where have you been trying to sell them?”
“Oh, you know...the regular beats,” Winston lied. “I reckon I ain’t gonna hit the library on weekdays no more.”
“The library?” Twinston repeated, bewildered. “Shit, what’s it like in there? Ain’t never been.”
“Not your brightest moment, I’m not gonna lie,” Ryan chuckled at Winston. “But, at least you learned your lesson for next week.” Winston nodded, taking it on the chin. If he had to make another withdraw, there wouldn’t be a “next week.” Winston had to find that ID thief.
“Whoa, what the hell?” Twinston pointed at a fleet of U-Haul vans, led by a 2021 silver BMW. They watched as the vehicles pulled into the driveway of the empty frat house next door.
“Holy fucking shit,” Ryan gasped. “It’s motherfucking Alpha Beta Kappa.”
The bald driver opened the butterfly doors. Thick marijuana smoke trickled out of the car. The passenger doors sprang up, and out hopped a freckle-faced redhead with a pornstar body. She brought a wheelchair over to the driver’s side and helped the bald guy into the seat. Then, she marveled at the huge mansion and jumped up and down in her stilettos, her huge breasts bouncing in her tight corset. She rushed into the new house, pausing to give Winston a quick glance before she entered.
Another redhead, huh? Winston thought. My favorite flavor.
The bald guy rolled over to the BDE house in his wheelchair, a present in his lap. His large biceps and tattoos were on full display in his worn Guns N’ Roses sleeveless tee. His jeans were bleached and destroyed and his black Converse were spotless.
“What’s up, neighbors?” the paraplegic spoke in a loud, baritone voice. He handed the present to Ryan. “I’m Clyde, President of Alpha Beta Kappa. Looks like we’re gonna be seeing a whole lot of each other.”
“Uh...yeah, my name’s Ryan.” He extended a hand while using the other to dab his bloody nose. “So...I thought Tri-Delt leased the house next door.”
“I assume you know sororities almost as well as I do. Truth is: women are too damn afraid of commitment. You gonna open that present or what?”
Ryan slipped off the bow and tore the wrapping paper. It was a penis pump.
“Now, let me lay down some ground rules for you and your twins,” Clyde continued, straightening his posture in the chair. “There’s only room for one big dick on Greek Row. Now you may think you have a big dick. But there’s a gang of nine-inch fresh-cut cocks in town.”
Clyde whistled with his fingers. The U-Haul truck doors rolled up. And out came a cavalry of ABK brothers, hauling furniture toward the house as they chanted “All Big Kocks!” Like pallbearers, they each grabbed a corner of expensive sofas, desks, and beds. Posing on top of each piece of furniture was a topless ABK sister. The brothers escorted them like royalty into the soon-to-be furnished mansion.
Clyde unfolded a flyer from his back pocket and handed it to Ryan. “Bring your asses tonight. There are plenty more tits where those came from.” It was an invitation to the ABK Housewarming Masquerade. Clyde swiveled around and rolled back on over to his new house. “By the way!” Clyde called out. “I don’t condone Taggart for spying on y’all like he did! I don’t care who you work for: a rat is a rat!”
“That’s bullshit,” Ryan whispered. He knew good and well that Taggart’s spying was planned and coordinated by Clyde himself. “If they’re gonna spy on us, we’re gonna do the same fuckin’ thing to them.”
“Sit back and relax,” Winston finally broke his silence, standing tall next to his doppelganger. “My twin and I will crash this party and dig up as much dirt as possible.”
“And he and I are the only two who can be in two places at once,” Twinston added.
“Then we infiltrate tonight!” Ryan announced. “Because gentlemen, Greek Row is a pair of tight spandex trunks. And there’s only room for one big dick.”
Watching Tai work was amazing.
At the ABK Masquerade, the masked Sarah sat at the bar in the massive concert venue. Clyde’s 90’s cover band was onstage. Like clockwork, the masked Tai would sniff out gay clientele, grab a fake ID from the binder, approach him, make out with him on the dance floor, and come back with a fistful of dollars.
“I’m averaging one sale per song,” Tai panted, wiping somebody’s lipstick from his mouth. “Here, hit me with another ID!”
“You do know this is borderline prostitution, my dude?”
Prostitution or not, they racked up a thousand bucks in the first hour. And with Gigi taking a cut of their sales, they were going to need that extra money to keep this operation afloat.
“Take a break, will ya?” Sarah suggested, patting the barstool next to her.
The freckle-faced redhead from Clyde’s BMW was bartending. She wore bright blue fairy wings, a lacy corset, and a glittery half-mask. “Two lemon drops, my loves,” she cooed in a Scottish accent, setting the drinks on the bar. “Aw, I love how comfy you two look!”
Tai and Sarah were dressed down in South App hoodies and yoga pants: items that every female or gay student owned. The goal was to not stand out while selling fake IDs. And yet, they had failed to wear masks.
“I prefer to dress like I do around the house,” the fairy said with a smile, fluttering off to help the next patron.
Outside, Winston and Twinston - the twin spies - walked up the ABK steps in matching button-downs, slacks, and white opera masks. They psyched each other up. The “Who’s got big dicks? We’ve got big dicks!” standard affair. Suddenly, a pack of drunk girls stormed out the front door and spilled an entire glass of cranberry vodka on Winston’s khakis. “Suck it up, buttercup!” she slurred, stumbling off with her posse. Co-ed fraternity girls were a different breed.
“Shit,” Winston muttered, looking down at the mess.
“Better go change, brother,” Twinston suggested. “I’mma gather some intel until you get back.”
Winston retreated to the BDE house while Twinston entered the party alone. He stood at the entrance, absorbing the nostalgia of the 90’s rock set. Permanently-seated Clyde was on drums. A crowd of groupies sang along up front while everyone else gathered on the dance floor.
“Jack and Coke,” Twinston told the fairy bartender. “If you have time.”
From the dance floor, Tai and Sarah were casually mingling and making fake ID sales. They were also people-watching. “It’s fucking uncanny,” Tai began, pointing at Twinston from afar.
“I’m telling you, that’s not Winston,” Sarah argued. “If you want proof, ask him to drop his pants. My brother has a birthmark on his upper-left ass cheek.”
“That dude could fool almost anyone though. But a sister always knows.”
Suddenly, all eyes shot toward the front door. In walked a young South Korean student in a baby-blue evening dress. Trailing behind her was a long, ornate satin train. The side-splitting fabric exposed her white-laced garter belt that ran from her thighs to her matching open-toed high heels. Instantly, she won the room.
Clyde hit the final snare, ending his Jane’s Addiction cover. “Well, don’t just stand there, princess!” Clyde called out to the woman, beckoning her onstage with a drumstick. “Come on up and introduce yourself.”
Princess Gigi obliged, but not before giving Tai and Sarah a passing glance. “I hope you’re on your A-game with those sales,” she whispered with a devious grin. “Because I need money for a red dress just like this one!”
Sarah tugged on Tai’s sleeve. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” she hissed. “Hey...uh bartender?”
“I’m Miri,” the Scottish redhead responded. “But I bid you call me Miri.”
“Miri, care to point us to the back door?”
Tai and Sarah slipped through the kitchen and out the back door. Miri kept pouring for thirsty patrons, all while eyeing this Korean bombshell on stage.
“Um...hi, everyone!” Gigi greeted, while the seated Clyde held the microphone to her mouth. “It’s my birthday today, and...I’m sober! Who wants to help me change that?”
Every man on the dance floor cheered like Quentin Tarantino with a glass slipper. Their girlfriends gave Gigi dirty looks, holding their men close. Clyde leaned into her ear. “Don’t let me catch you paying for a single drop tonight.” He turned around and rolled back to the drum set. He clicked his sticks and began a Chili Peppers cover. The party was back underway.
“Another Jack and Coke,” Twinston requested from Miri. “Make it a double-shot.” From the bar, he’d watched the entire spectacle. Now, Gigi was walking over to him.
“Please read,” Gigi said, plopping down next to Twinston. She slipped the thin fabric of her dress to the side, exposing a pale white thigh. Then, she reached under her garter belt for a letter. She slid it across the bar, showing off her baby-blue painted nails. Twinston peeled off the heart-shaped sticker and unfolded the letter. Written in cursive was the most kinky, depraved to-do list of sex acts he had ever seen. At the bottom was a signed statement: For my birthday I, Ji-hye “Gigi” Moon, hereby sign my virginity over to Winston Arnold Beavers.
Clearly, Gigi had the wrong man.
As soon as Miri returned with Twinston's drink, Gigi swiped it. She sipped her first taste of whiskey through a straw, her bedroom eyes growing wider and wider. She slammed the glass of ice on the bar. Then, she leaned into Twinston’s ear and passed an ice cube from her mouth to his.
“Hey, uh...bartender?” Twinston stammered, as Gigi ran her tongue across his fuzzy beard.
“Back door’s through the kitchen,” Miri laughed in a Scottish accent as she watched the flirtatious pair.
Twinston grabbed Gigi’s hand and jetted out of there. If Winston caught them, he’d impale them with his chainsaw and cut the engine on. So they cut across the back yard and entered Twinston’s first-floor bedroom through the window. She immediately slipped out of her dress, leaving on nothing but the heels and garter belt. And as the masked girl spread her legs, Twinston kept telling himself that this was consensual.
Winston entered the ABK house in a filthy pair of blue jeans from that morning. The crowd waved their lighters while Clyde’s band played Semisonic’s “Closing Time.” Seeing as it was last call, Winston made a bee-line for the bar. “I’ll have a Jack and Coke, Miss,” Winston said to Miri, tipping his hat. “If you have time.”
Miri cocked her head, her wings and eyebrows twitching. “Wait...what’s going on?” she asked, taken aback by Winston’s twin from five minutes earlier.
“Alcoholism, that’s what,” Winston chuckled. “Why, I reckon you’ve just seen a ghost. Wanna have a drink with me to calm the spirits?” He was here to gain ABK intel. But her freckled face, wavy red hair, and Scottish accent were definitely a bonus.
“Apparently so!” Miri laughed, her breasts bouncing up and down in that tight corset. “Tell you what: I’ll toast with ya.”
Miri poured Winston’s Jack and Coke and the umpteenth cranberry vodka of the night. But like the mystical fairy creature she was, she garnished her drink with a handful of blueberries, a splash of lemon juice, and a basil leaf.
“Seventy-nine,” Winston randomly said as they clinked glasses across the bar.
“Seventy-nine. I reckon that’s how many freckles you have on your face.”
“Ah...well, let’s see. I've never counted before. But on my whole body? Well...we’re definitely in quadruple digits.” Miri leaned in close, the scent of gin and spearmint on her breath. “If you want to take me to my room and count them, I can do 150 an hour. That is, if you’re a fast counter.”
Winston chuckled, then slipped something into her henna-tattooed hand. “I mighty appreciate it. But I’d rather ya tell me a little bit about this place. Thinkin’ about pledging.” A lie, of course.
Without missing a beat, Miri slapped a bag of blue-and-white cocaine on the bar. “Tell ya what: you try ours and I’ll try yours.” Right in front of everyone, she opened the bag of red-and-what cocaine and split it into lines.
Winston’s jaw dropped. It was all coming together in his slow-churning mind. Taggart and ABK had been gathering intel to corner the entire fucking college cocaine market. While Miri dropped her head to do a line, Winston slipped his rival’s cocaine into his pocket. All right, I’ve got what I came for. No thanks to Twinston. Time to report back to Ryan.
“Yo, the concert’s over but the night has just fucking begun!” Clyde announced on the mic. “Ladies only: get your asses to the center of the dance floor. You know what time it is!”
Miri’s head shot up from her third line of cocaine. She released an orgasmic Scottish moan. Then, this mystical fairy pranced into the center of the room, spun on her heel, and gave a curtsey in her outfit.
What the hell is going on? Winston thought, sipping his whiskey. He reached into his back pocket for a napkin and felt something else instead. Slowly, he held Gigi’s lacy yellow panties in front of his face. Miri, how the hell did you put this in my pocket without me noticing? Hell, I reckon this bitch is a fairy after all.
“DJ, hit the music!” Clyde commanded. Fergie’s “London Bridge” blared through the speakers and rang across Greek Row. The tipsy Miri swayed her hips to the violent bass beat, shedding her wings. Applause erupted from the crowd.
“Now just what are we to do about this corset?” Miri cooed, puckering her lower lip.
“Take it off!” the brothers chanted. And she did. Winston instantly realized that her “1000-freckles” estimate was correct.
“Lose that skirt!” the crowd commanded.
Winston nervously tapped his foot. Not because he was afraid of seeing a naked woman. That road was heavily-traveled and full of potholes. But Miri was drunk, and nobody was doing a damn thing about it. She hooked her thumbs beneath her pink-and-blue skirt and pulled it down to her ankles. No underwear, and a hundred more freckles on Winston’s scoreboard.
“Make yourself decent, moron!” Winston called out, sling-shotting the yellow panties across the room to Miri. She reached up and caught them, red-eyed high and shit-faced drunk. “These…these aren’t mine. But they sure are cute!”
What?! Who the fuck do they belong to then? And why the fuck were they in my pocket?!
Regardless, Miri slipped into the tight panties. She gave a polite curtsy and fluttered away through the kitchen and out the back door.
“Yo, what the fuck man?” Clyde raged as he watched the action from his wheelchair. “You fuckin’ scared her off! DJ, cut the music!”
Fergie stopped singing and all eyes fell on Winston. He took a deep breath and boldly stepped into the center of the dance floor. “She was fucking wasted, partner. Are y’all really gonna make her do all that?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Clyde seethed. “It’s Friday: we drink, and Miri strips. She’s a whore. And that’s what whores do. Who the fuck do you think you are anyway? S-s-somebody take off his mask!”
But Winston removed his own mask and tossed it on the floor. There he was: invading ABK just as the phony Mississippian Taggart had invaded BDE.
“Leave it to a Beta to look for pussy at an Alpha’s party!” Clyde jeered over the mic. “Can you all believe this white-knight faggot tried to stand up for a fuckin’ whore?”
Winston couldn’t resist a comeback. It was too easy. “At least I can actually stand, you fucking cretin.”
Every single hand covered a gasping mouth. Winston turned and walked into the kitchen, building up to a sprint out the back door. Rabid yells from behind as he cut across BDE’s back yard, dashing past rows of trees and street lights to the end of Greek Row. At the dimly-lit street sign, he collapsed into the grass.
Winston, ya done fucked up now.
“Yo, you okay, bro?” somebody called out.
Winston looked up and saw two douchey frat boys carrying acoustic guitars. Before he could get up, one of them had already hoisted him to his feet. He winced as he put pressure on a sprained ankle.
“You had way too much, my man!” Guitar Guy 1 said. “And it’s not even nine yet. Gotta pace yourself!”
“Yeah, man,” agreed Guitar Guy 2, brushing grass off Winston’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you come with us to Alpha Beta Kappa’s party? I hear our president’s band is fuckin’ killing it tonight.”
Winston felt his soul leave his body. Suddenly, Guitar Guy 1’s phone rang.
“Hello?” Guitar Guy 1 answered his phone. “Hey, what’s up, Clyde. Yeah, yeah, we’re almost there. We’ve got our guitars and...huh? Oh shit, you talking ‘bout the guy dressed like a cowboy? Yeah, man, he’s right here. Drunk as fuck, I’ll tell ya h’what. Wait, what? He said what to you? No, fuck that. FUCK. THAT! Yeah, man, we’re gonna take care of him right the fuck now!”
Winston slowly backed up to the street sign, a hot pain searing through his ankle. Running was out of the question.
“You so much as move, we aim for the head,” said Guitar Guy 2, shouldering his weapon.
Winston placed his back to the street sign and sank to a seated position. He looked up at the fretted assailants. Not with fear, but with acceptance. “I know all about your frat’s cocaine operation. And all I gotta say: I’m gonna run it into the motherfuckin’ ground.”
Guitar Guy 1 went for a cross slice, cracking the guitar against Winston’s head. He bled before he hit the grass in a fetal position. His body convulsed in a seizure.
“Yo, no face shots!” Guitar Guy 2 screamed, kicking Winston in the ribs to vent his frustration. He brought his ax above his head and hammered down on his gut. Winston released the death cry of a wounded gazelle. But instead of delivering that final blow, the Guitar Guys looked at one another and nodded. Then, they dropped their pastel board shorts and proceeded to piss on Winston’s wounds from head to toe.
“Look at the sign and tell me what the fuck it says, cuck!” Guitar Guy 1 yelled, stomping his face with his boat shoes one last time. They zipped up their shorts and ran off. A groaning Winston wiped his bloody, sopping-wet face and looked up at the sign. Crenshaw Ave. Just like his father’s legacy, Clyde was here to stay.
Winston blacked out.
It wasn’t rape. It was my choice. It wasn’t rape. It was my choice. It. Was. My choice.
Gigi stared at her reflection in the dorm room mirror. Tears and mascara flowed down her face, streaking her cleavage and her wrinkled gown. With fumbling hands, she unwrapped a Plan B Morning-After Pill and slipped it between her dry, chapped lips. She cupped some water into her hand and swallowed, gripping the edges of the sink as she looked back at the defiled girl in the mirror. Hours earlier, she had been pure. Now, she stank of sweat, Walmart-brand musk, and a stranger’s bodily fluids. It was only when Twinston had taken off his mask that she’d realized she had made love to a man she did not know.
Only minutes to midnight. Soon, the wrinkled evening gown would disappear, and Gigi would be reduced to dirty rags and cloths. “This...this is certainly the kind of dress I would want to die in,” she told her reflection, forcing a smile as she permitted tears to flow freely.
A fall from the seventh story would surely kill Gigi. She envisioned her mangled corpse on the gnarled roots below. Then, she feverishly latched onto something to keep her alive for one more day.
Froyo! Tomorrow was the grand opening of the local frozen yogurt joint. I’ll get to choose my favorite sugary toppings to pile on my watermelon sorbet. But tonight, I didn't choose to have sex with that man. It was not. My. Fault.
Gigi’s phone rang. It was Sarah. “Gigi, get your ass down to the third floor - quick!”
Gigi flew down the stairs, tripping over a few drunk students in the process. She stood in the doorway of Room 309, where a bloodied cowboy lay his head in Sarah’s lap. Tai sat on the futon, handing Sarah gauze and rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit.
“Gigi,” Winston mumbled. He lifted his head, then set it back down as he erupted into a coughing fit. “You look...great. Not as sexy as my sister though. But I’m from the South, so it’s family first. Roll tide...”
Sarah and Gigi smiled weakly, seeing how Winston was slowly returning back to normal. But Gigi’s smile turned to shock as she got a closer look at his face. One eye was swollen shut and bleeding from the corner. A large knot on his head oozed pus, even as Sarah frequently dabbed it with a tissue. His twitching body hinted at the lacerations and bruises beneath his bloody t-shirt. And through Winston’s smile, he was missing a bottom tooth.
“Everybody fucking leave!” Gigi exploded, dropping to her knees and laying her head on Winston’s chest. He winced at first, but slowed his breathing as she held his hand. She sobbed her eyes out, soaking Winston’s shirt and beard.
“Gigi, look,” Tai said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Winston needs all of us right now. Not just-”
Gigi fetched the 22-caliber pistol from her purse and slammed it on the tile floor. “I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT! OUT, OUT, OUT!”
Winston’s heart raced as Gigi squeezed his hand with all her might. “It’s all my fault,” she whispered, as if they were already alone. “If only I let you keep your gun, you could have defended yourself.”
“Buddy, that just ain’t plum-fuckin’ true. Ain’t nobody’s fault but mine. I talked shit and got hit.”
Sarah and Tai quietly slipped out the door, most likely to count their fake ID earnings.
Gigi positioned Winston’s head on her lap and ran her small hands through his messy brown hair. “This ain’t the first time you caught me covered in piss. Reckon it won’t be the last.”
Gigi giggled. “I’ll...I’ll be here all night to protect you.” She clutched the gun with one hand and ran her fingers through his hair with the other. “And we can wash your hair in the morning.”
“Thanks, buddy. I reckon I done gots me a few enemies now. So...ya ain’t gonna let the piss fairies sneak in and give me a golden shower...are ya?”
“I...I won’t let you down!” Gigi laughed, gripping the gun. “And if the pee bandits come around here, I’ll politely escort their hind keisters a third-of-a-dozen floors north, where their skin shall bubble under the 100 Kelvin internal temperature of our antiquated heating and cooling apparatus!”
“Shit,” Winston moaned, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. “If they don’t fix your AC sooner or later...you may have to move down here and live with me.”
While Winston rested, Gigi stood watch all night. She forgot all about what Twinston had done to her. Misery loved company. And while Gigi never wished for anything bad to happen to Winston, his timing couldn’t have been better.
submitted by welcometosouthapp to welcometosouthapp [link] [comments]
2020.09.03 13:12 MiserableUpstairs Sex internal camera
| We saw the Duggars coo over an ultrasound pic that would end up with a totally different name last time, and grift kids' meals from a restaurant that they totally do not go to frequently. But today it's time for a more "delicate" matter that definitely requires a lot of handling from overly-interested parents who totally want to control their kids' sex lives, but don't even manage to ensure their eldest son doesn't sexually abuse his sisters: Dating.|
But wait. Who are the Duggar kids supposed to date? So far, the Duggars have been the only people inhabiting their particular alternate reality of home perms, Prairie dresses, tater tots, and pickles, where having 14 children is totally fine and everything is just peachy. But no. Jim Bob and Michelle are not the only people who ascribe to their particular brand of religious nutjobbery. There's also the Holt family, who "share the Duggars' religious convictions". And their clothing choices. And I feel some background is needed here, because it seems that Jim Holt and Jim Bob Duggar go WAY back.
Well fuck me, there's more Prairie dresses. Except for Cousin Amy. She gets Jeans.
"I met Jim Bob Duggar, he and I grew up together. We went to Shiloh Christian High School from seventh grade on. We were gonna sell books together in Kansas, Bibles and encyclopedias," says Jim (Holt. Gotta specify here, but at least now I know why Jim Bob needs that Bob behind Jim to differentiate). What he conveniently does NOT mention, because it would not go well with the salt-of-the-earth ordinary family but qUiRkY vibe everyone is going for here, is that Jim and Jim Bob (goddamn it, what is so very wrong with James?) also served in the Arkansas House of Representatives together in the early 2000s. Nothing to see here, just two hard-working ordinary American men who just coincidentally have the money and the power to get elected to the Arkansas House of Representatives. Nothing special about them at all. They're just like you!
The connection between the Holts and the Duggars was not merely political. The families are portrayed as very buddy-buddy in the special, and they also "home church" together at the Duggar home. Now, me being very European and very heathen-ish, with a Catholic background where your church doesn't count if you don't have it in triplicate from the fucking Vatican, I have no idea what a home church is, but it sounds roughly like someone (probably someone with a dick) decided the local church is not strict enough for them, and so they made their own church, with blackjack and hookers. Sometimes even literally. Yes, I'm looking at you, Josh.
Can you die of boredom? Because the Duggar home church looks like it's definitely trying to murder everyone.
But that is in the future. For now, all is well in the little Duggar-Holt bubble. Jim Bob and Jim play some Fundie bullshit bingo together, calling their home church "a neat little fellowship", where "the spirit is very sweet". The families allegedly have cookouts and we see them at an ice skating rink. "When the families get together, it's a chance for the kids and adults to relate to people who live life the way they do, not an easy thing to find. Which leads us to a common question: How will the Duggars handle the delicate issue of dating? With lead son Josh aged 16, this issue is about to become more than theoretical."
The one who is supposed to answer that question for us? Michelle. In a talking head. Without Jim Bob to stare at so he can give her little pointers on if she's saying the right thing. And yes, it is exactly as gloriously awful as you're imagining it. I will quote it here for you in its entirety, because it really is a fucking trainwreck and Michelle can't hold a thought to save her life, bless her shriveled little heart. "We have... met others that, erm, there might be an interest, among our children, you know. They spend time together, never alone... for one thing... just boy and a girl, alone, ideally, we're in groups and they usually are together... erm, with others, when we're visiting with... with friends, and that sort of thing. And so, erm, in that respect, it's a protection for their heart too."
Ice Skating with Mommy and Daddy totally protects you from falling in love. Totally.
Wow. That is a lot of words and a lot of erms and a lot of confusion for: There might be someone one of our kids' is interested in, and we don't allow them to go out together. And it's actually a fat load of bullshit too, because have those morons never read a totally not NIKE Jane Austen book? Those people are rarely alone too, but that doesn't stop them from falling in love via intense stares, books, witty conversation, and piano recitals. Seriously. Either Jim Bob and Michelle have an IQ below that of the average rock, or their "protection for their hearts" stick is just a front for what they really want to do: Control their children, and especially their children's sexuality. And we all know just how astonishingly well that went in the Duggar family.
Josh, who is interviewed next, is not half as confused as Michelle though. He sounds like he hasn't just drunk the cool-aid, but like he mainlined it, bathed in it, and now uses it as a facial cleanser twice a day. And he has also mastered the "Jim Bob Seriousy Looking Into The Camera Because This Is Important"-Stare that has been annoying me for so long now. He even sounds the same as his father, compared to his earlier, more natural tones during the "My father is an idiot for thinking we can build this house!" talking head and it's fucking creepy. "I think... I don't look at it as much as dating, as I do looking for a lifelong partner. And I think you can give your heart away to so many, and I think that if you're gonna give your heart away you need to be giving it to someone who's gonna love you and care about you and not someone who's gonna simply get carried away with their emotions."
Help why is there more than one Jim Bob?
Have you ever heard something that is so wrong mind-bogglingly wrong on more levels than sex in an elevator that you just stare at it for a bit, marvel at the wrongness of it all, and then think "Fuck, where do I even start?" That's how I feel about Josh's quote. It's the kind of internally inconsistent and ludicrous shit you'd never be able to come up with if someone walked up to you and said, "Quick! Say something mind-bogglingly stupid!" It defies logic and common sense. And it's just so... cruel of Michelle and Jim Bob, knowing what they know, what we know now, to put their son on national television and have him talk about how dating is evil and "getting carried away with their emotions" is wrong while they full well know that their squeaky-clean smug little son has already sexually abused his sisters. Self-aware as a bunch of bricks, those smug, condescending, holier-than-thou assholes. Also... how much of your heart is sexually abusing your younger sisters? A third? Half? All of it? None, because they didn't date and it doesn't count because of that?
This is the face I make when the Duggars try to explain their reasoning for being controlling asshats with an unhealthy focus on their children's sex lives.
And of course Jim Bob just has to double down on the bullshit. "Or goal is for each one of your children to find that special person, just like I did, and we really believe that God's created that person already for them." Like, seriously, Jim Bob. I bet you're the type who will bitch about not straight people being oh so gay AT you when they mention their partner and thinks that "Happy Holidays" mugs are an attack on Christian culture, but you're right there, just casually assuming that everyone's highest calling in life is having sex with their wife and then lining up all of their little sex certificates in order of birth like you do, and go all "look at all the
Fortunately for me, because I can't take another second of Jim Bob's smug holier than thou bullshit, all is not well in the Duggar-Holt alternate reality. That, of course, is not shown in the special. In the special, Kaeleigh Holt (who is two days older than Josh Duggar) still looks at Sex Pest like he's the second coming of White Fundie Jesus, even though nothing indicates Josh and Kaeleigh were ever an item, except the totally not coincidental discussion of Duggar dating while we see the two families interacting.
What is not shown is the allegedly somewhat ugly aftermath. We know that Jim and Jim Bob had a falling out (because the Holts stopped appearing on Duggar television). The reason for that falling out is more unclear, with speculation ranging from them being two patriarchial assholes who don't share well, even with other patriarchial assholes, to Jim Holt finding Josh Duggar watching porn while Josh was working on his re-election campaign, to Josh sexually abusing one of Holt's daughters, and him ending Josh's "betrothal" with Kaeleigh Holt because of that. All of the links are going to DuggarsSnark threads btw, because most of this is speculation. If you have better sources, please link them in the thread so snarkers can form their own opinions!
Shame on you. You're a creepy asshole who would still be actively working on taking away women's rights if you could find enough people to vote for you.
Kaeleigh Holt is now married with four kids and really into CrossFit, and while I can't but feel that she dodged a Deathstar-sized wrecking ball when her dad broke things off... HOW FUCKING NUTS DOES A FATHER HAVE TO BE TO BETROTH HIS DAUGHTER WHEN SHE WAS WHAT, FOURTEEN YEARS OLD, IN THE FIRST PLACE? Like, seriously, Jim? What the fuck is wrong with you? How did no one think that this is a completely, utterly reprehensible and de-humanizing idea that should have died out centuries ago? Controlling members' relationships is like, textbook level cult behavior, and in their circle, nobody thought anything was wrong with telling literal children that they're going to get married when they're grown up? Jesus F. Christ. No matter how good they're at hiding it, everyone in the Duggar bubble seems to be an utterly fucked up, dysfunctional human being.
Up next: After this seemingly endless season of pregnancy, we'll finally see the baby they've been milking for so long.
submitted by MiserableUpstairs to DuggarsSnark [link] [comments]