As you guys all know I am a dolicocephalic, bald, pale, horribly skinny manlet who looks like what would happen if Joseph Goebbels fucked a ghoul. I have actually considered several times buying a decrepit castle in Eastern Europe with my crypto money to fully LARP as an undead monster straight out of a 1920s German impressionist horror movie.
Last night I was extremely depressed over my inceldom and subhumanity and considered ending it all. But after smoking a pound of crack cocaine, I got an idea. In some of my late grandfather's possessions there was this old tool to castrate cattle: an elastrator. You use it a bit like a pair of pliers, the way it operates is that it firmly surrounds your testicles with an extremely tight rubber band. It completely cuts off the blood supply, and in theory, after about a week, your balls simply fall to the ground. It's supposed to be painless. In the box where it was stored, there were still a few rubber rings. Now I know what you're thinking, you must be crazy to do this to yourself. But I wasn't thinking clearly at this precise moment. In my drugged out state, this looked like a perfectly legit way to end my suffering forever.
I spent a whole hour learning how to use the elastrator with Youtube videos, and two fucking hours putting on the rubber band correctly. It was time, the contraption was ready. I drank a flask of codeine syrup to give me courage, and smoked more crack. I dropped my pants and boxer, and put my ballsack inside the rubber ring. I then pressed the levers.
Holy shit... The pain was unbearable. I actually fainted... I woke up twenty minutes later, feeling extremely weird. I tried to distract myself from the pain but it was impossible... Imagine your whole crotch area being on fire... I knew I had made a grievous mistake. I injected pure heroin in the area to ease the pain but it somehow made it worse... I felt like throwing up. It was pain the likes of which I had never experienced before, pain that made me want to kill myself on the spot.
I didn't even have the patience to call for emergency services and wait for them. I just ran through my front door, in the streets, half-naked, sprinting to the nearest hospital. I didn't care anymore about what people could think of me. The pain... I just wanted to end the pain. That's all I could focus on.
As I finally arrived to the hospital (only one block left), my heart sank. A group of about 12 young people, visibly drunk, were arriving in my direction, completely blocking the way, that was heavily lit by streetlamps. I tried to turn back but it was already too late.
A tall Chad in the group had already seen me. "Hey guy, need some help?" The whole group laughed. His Stacy girlfriend was laughing hysterically. I began to run to get away from them but I tripped on a pothole. It was over. My nightmare was only beginning... The group approached and started to laugh even more. I think I heard some teasing on my ugliness, but can't remember distinctly what they said. One of the guys noticed the rubber band around my ballsack and said "wtf is this gay shit. Do you come out of a homo swinger club or what?". Immediately at least three tall, strong men in the group said "we don't like gays" with a threatening tone, Stacies were in tears of laughter. I was trapped. It truly was over. Then I woke up.
Last night I was extremely depressed over my inceldom and subhumanity and considered ending it all. But after smoking a pound of crack cocaine, I got an idea. In some of my late grandfather's possessions there was this old tool to castrate cattle: an elastrator. You use it a bit like a pair of pliers, the way it operates is that it firmly surrounds your testicles with an extremely tight rubber band. It completely cuts off the blood supply, and in theory, after about a week, your balls simply fall to the ground. It's supposed to be painless. In the box where it was stored, there were still a few rubber rings. Now I know what you're thinking, you must be crazy to do this to yourself. But I wasn't thinking clearly at this precise moment. In my drugged out state, this looked like a perfectly legit way to end my suffering forever.
I spent a whole hour learning how to use the elastrator with Youtube videos, and two fucking hours putting on the rubber band correctly. It was time, the contraption was ready. I drank a flask of codeine syrup to give me courage, and smoked more crack. I dropped my pants and boxer, and put my ballsack inside the rubber ring. I then pressed the levers.
Holy shit... The pain was unbearable. I actually fainted... I woke up twenty minutes later, feeling extremely weird. I tried to distract myself from the pain but it was impossible... Imagine your whole crotch area being on fire... I knew I had made a grievous mistake. I injected pure heroin in the area to ease the pain but it somehow made it worse... I felt like throwing up. It was pain the likes of which I had never experienced before, pain that made me want to kill myself on the spot.
I didn't even have the patience to call for emergency services and wait for them. I just ran through my front door, in the streets, half-naked, sprinting to the nearest hospital. I didn't care anymore about what people could think of me. The pain... I just wanted to end the pain. That's all I could focus on.
As I finally arrived to the hospital (only one block left), my heart sank. A group of about 12 young people, visibly drunk, were arriving in my direction, completely blocking the way, that was heavily lit by streetlamps. I tried to turn back but it was already too late.
A tall Chad in the group had already seen me. "Hey guy, need some help?" The whole group laughed. His Stacy girlfriend was laughing hysterically. I began to run to get away from them but I tripped on a pothole. It was over. My nightmare was only beginning... The group approached and started to laugh even more. I think I heard some teasing on my ugliness, but can't remember distinctly what they said. One of the guys noticed the rubber band around my ballsack and said "wtf is this gay shit. Do you come out of a homo swinger club or what?". Immediately at least three tall, strong men in the group said "we don't like gays" with a threatening tone, Stacies were in tears of laughter. I was trapped. It truly was over. Then I woke up.
Last edited:
