This one is dedicated to our greatest fans, so that we may dwell rent free in their heads for eternity.
(2100 words)
At least I’m not an Incel…
…
“…FUCK YOU you little kike cunt!!! “
The Incel typed furiously. His sweaty sausage fingers smeared a fresh layer of cheeto dust over the crusty keys.
“I gonna rape the shit out of your little prime nigger hole till it runs red with cunt blood before I impregnate your tight 13 year old asshole!!!”
On the other end, Shaniqua Feinstein was not impressed:
“This is why you are incel.” She replied sovereignly.
Upon reading this clever reply, the Incel had an absolute meltdown:
“FUCK YOU! FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING…” he screamed, both his hands grabbing and shaking the flat screen. No longer caring to type anything, the Incel just yelled obscenities while trashing his room.
When is rage was spent and his wrist were straining, he sank to the floor, crying.
Silent and carefully, his mother opened the door to his room, just enough to speak to him.
“…a-are you ok son? I-I made you some tendies a-and…”
“PISS OF YOU CUNT!!!” he screeched, before resuming his pathetic lamentation...
--------------------------------------------------------------------
“Phew… finally finished.” Erik spoke to himself. This was the longest short story he had ever written about Incels. Admittedly, his depiction of the Incel was a little bit exaggerated, but if he wanted to warn the world about these misogynistic terrorists, a few dramatics could be quite useful.
“Copy…Paste…aaaand…Send.” Erik smiled contently while imagining all the praise and karma points he would get for this. Satisfied with his days’ work, it was time for his favourite past time: Online dating. One by one, he logged in the accounts he had on various platforms, hoping for matches and replies.
Hinge… nothing
Plenty of Fish… nada
OKCupid… zero
Bumble … empty
It would be wrong to say that Erik was sad, he was just… disappointed. Disappointed in himself. He had spent long hours to work out the witty texts for his bios and messages but somehow he was unable to catch the eye of any girl on those platforms.
Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe he was just not honest enough. After all, women have a sixth sense to sniff out bullshit. Instead of “in his early thirties” he should just say that he was 34 years old. And maybe instead of “new to online dating” he should just flat out admit that he is a virgin with no romantic experience at all. He nodded to himself, “this will do it”, and began to adjust his profiles.
While he was immersed in this repetitive work, his thoughts were free to wander. Yes, he was an older virgin, so what? Yes, he has bummed out by this, and? That does not mean that he was an Incel. He was nothing like those misogynistic women haters, paedophiles, anti-semites, racists and transphooooooh fuck!
He struck his own forehead to chastise himself for his subconscious bigotry. He had forgotten to check the LGBTQI+-dating sites! He was not gay per se, but, as an ally, willing to be open minded and to experiment… and trans women ARE women, after all.
Shamefully, he logged into his Queer-dating accounts:
Grindr… nothing
Taimi… nothing
Transpal… bingo!
And here it was. His hard work and patience had finally payed of. A (self-identifying) woman by the name of Celestina had contacted him... and she was apparently still online. However, when he opened the message and saw her face, he had to swallow. “B-Beauty is subjective…” he muttered hesitantly and began to formulate his reply…
------------later------------------
…
“…uh-huh.”
“Yea, but we keep a close eye on those lunatics.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If they were to spread their hatred unchecked, a lot of lives could be destroyed!”
“Uh-huh.”
“But enough about me. How do you spend your free time?”
“…”
“...Celestina?”
“…gosh…wait a minute” her staring on the phone turned into a look of annoyance and her typing intensified.
<8 Minutes later>
“…are you gonna order something?”
She looked up from her smartphone and focussed her eyes on a point somewhere above his head before looking him in the eyes. “Look Henry…”
“E-Erik…”
“...I don’t think this is working out.”
“Why not, we basically just arrived here?”
“I don’t have to give you any explanations…”
“…o-of course not, sorry…”
“...but I expected someone more…”
“…witty?…”
“...masculine. I´m feeling like I’m sitting in front of a child.”
Erik gave her a confused look.
“Look, I gotta go now… and if you see me again, please don’t talk to me or even greet me, ok? Just pretend we don’t know each other.”
“…ok…”
Celestina shoved her phone into her handbag and left as fast as was appropriate. Erik sank into his seat, suddenly feeing extremely exhausted, physically and emotionally. “...just another rejection, no big deal.” he spoke to himself while he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Unwillingly, he imagined what all those Incels would say if they could see him now. How they would laugh and cackle about his misery. No doubt they would try to turn him to their stupid blackpill believes…
“No!” He was not weak like they were; he would not let his life be ruled by his romantic failures! He was more than that! Love and Sex were optional, a bonus, a privilege no one was entitled to! He was going to recharge his emotional batteries with some delicious food right now!
As soon as he had finished this thought, the waitress came around the corner. He had seen her before during previous visits but now that she stood before him, he could take a closer look: She was somewhat plump and maybe half a head shorter than he was. Her long brown hair was bound into a tight ponytail. Her soft features were dominated by rosy cheeks that framed her kind smile and stood in contrast with her blue-green eyes.
“Hey, you here again?” she said with a voice that lay somewhere between professional and genuine joy. “What can I bring you today?”
Even if Erik could think of something to say, he would not be able to pronounce it… there was a lump in his throat…
------------later------------------
Therapy was starting to pay off. After today’s session, the sight of happy couples strolling through the evening streets did not sting him that much and his fomo had lessened. Maybe just a few more times and Erik would be ready to take up dating once again.
Also, he would not be dealing with Incels anymore. After giving his therapist a lengthy explanation about inceldom and the blackpill (a process that utterly drained the battery of his smartphone), he was advised to stay away from those spaces since they were dangerous for his mental health. Contact, even if indirectly, with those misogynists was probable the reason for his romantic failures to begin with. Apparently their bigotry spread subconsciously and harmed the way he treated women, even without his knowing… or so the theory of his therapist said.
Additionally, at their first appointment, his therapist had advised him to follow an OnlyFans profile (she did not say it exactly, but that was what she meant) to improve his confidence and social skills with women. Since there was money involved, so was the reasoning, the chances for rejections would be pretty low. He had chosen to follow one of the lesser known channels, managed by a content creator who specialised in feminist-, age- and trans-inclusive erotica.
Erik could not wait to get back home and check if his donations had been noticed favourably. He had learned that even a small “thanks^^” or “Great ;-)”, would make him happy for days. Maybe soon he could even live chat with his idol for a few minutes…
His daydreaming was interrupted by distant yelling from the alley he just passed by. Alarmed, he walked a few steps back, looked around the corner and began to listen:
“…TIRED OF YOUR CONSTANT SHIT!” a strong male voice shouted.
“What do you want?! I don’t have to tell you everything I do!” replied a softer, feminine voice angrily.
“TELL ME WHO OR YOU GET THE HANDS!”
“What? What?... Let go of me… fuck!...”
No doubt, this was a domestic about to get ugly. “Ok, ok, I just have to call the cops.” Quickly, Erik reached for his phone and wanted to make the call… but with widening eyes he realized that the device had no charge left and would stay dead. “…fuck…”
The sound of a slapping followed by a short scream ripped him out of his paralysis. Now close to panic, his eyes searching for the closest pedestrian when suddenly an ingenious idea came over him…
“NOW TELL ME OR YOU GET THE OTHER ONE!!” the man screamed furiously at the young woman who nursed the side of her pain-distorted face with one hand. His voice boomed through the small backyard, amplified by the high walls surrounding them. Not waiting for an answer, he raised his arm to strike her again.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, buddy.”
The pair went silent and both of them turned to the newcomer. Erik had just entered the yard through the alley and pointed the camera of his dead phone towards the male.
“Police are on their way…” he bluffed “…better don’t do anything stupid while I livestr…”
“PISS OFF YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!!!” the (huge) man yelled at him while pointing at the exit.
“…You!?” the woman said with a tone of confusion.
Initially focussed on the guy, Erik now took a first look at the distressed woman: To his great surprise, it was the waitress from the restaurant he frequently visited… the kind one…the one he liked.
“PISS OFF!!!” the man yelled again at Erik, even more enraged.
“H-Hey, it´s you!” Erik said “Come, let’s get out of here.” He went for her, reaching out with his arm.
“No…no…j-just leave, dammit!” the woman said quickly, brushing his hand away with her free arm.
“YOU KNOW THIS LITTLE FUCKER!? IS THAT HIM!?”
“Yea…, No…, w-well…but not…” the woman stammered.
“!!!FFFFFFFUUUUUU…”
------------later------------------
…
“Yes, your Honor, it was a very charged situation but ultimately, he just wanted to protect me.”
“After you were assaulted by this stranger, I presume?”
“Y-Yes. He must have followed me from the restaurant… he is there often, sitting all by himself, always smiling when I pass by… it was very unsettling.”
“I see…And you? Do you have anything to add?”
“No, your Honor. I know I overreached… but when is saw this fu…person strike my girl…I just snapped. ”
“Understandable. I will take this into consideration…”
------------later------------------
Normally, Kathrin enjoyed her job as a nurse. Even if it was hard, or dirty, she just loved to work with people, to help them, to bring them hope, to see them heal from injury and disease... but with some patients, she just didn’t have any hope to give.
With her hand on the door handle, she swallowed, took a deep breath and entered the intensive care sickroom.
She was greeted by the repetitive <beep> of the ECG unit. Its cables, along with a multitude of other tubes and hoses, culminated in the body of an emaciated figure on the bed. The short man was barely covered in a thin blanked, since most of his body, especially his head and neck, was encased in a bizarre metallic framework which held his shattered bones in place.
Kathrin did not like it at all to be in the presence of this particular patient. For one, there was almost nothing she could do for him but to feel sorry. Even if he would ever be able to live outside a hospital, it would not be a good life. Also, she had heard over e long chain of friends that he was some kind of pervert or stalker or something... maybe even one of those dangerous Incels she recently read about.
Trying to avoid looking at the figure, she set to work. Replacing the catheter bag, checked the various instruments and renewed the morphine IV. When she was done, she turned to leave when suddenly…
“…ewst m ot an mcel…”
Slowly, Kathrin turned directly to the patient and took a few careful steps. When she was close enough, she bend over the bed to get her ear closer to his mouth (it was somewhere in the mess of swellings, scars and sutures that was his face).
She listened to nothing but silence for half a minute, until…
“ad lwst im od an imsel…”
The ECG rose in frequency.
“at lewst im mot an Inzel…”
Tears began to stream from his swollen eyes.
“At lest Im not a Incel…”
The metal framing began to shake violently.
“AT LEAST I´M NOT AN INCEL!”
Kathrin stormed out of the room, now and forever haunted by the screams of the guy who was totally, 100% and absolutely not an Incel.
.
.
.
Enjoy more based and blackpilled Stories and Writings at https://basedpill.blogspot.com/
(2100 words)
At least I’m not an Incel…
…
“…FUCK YOU you little kike cunt!!! “
The Incel typed furiously. His sweaty sausage fingers smeared a fresh layer of cheeto dust over the crusty keys.
“I gonna rape the shit out of your little prime nigger hole till it runs red with cunt blood before I impregnate your tight 13 year old asshole!!!”
On the other end, Shaniqua Feinstein was not impressed:
“This is why you are incel.” She replied sovereignly.
Upon reading this clever reply, the Incel had an absolute meltdown:
“FUCK YOU! FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING…” he screamed, both his hands grabbing and shaking the flat screen. No longer caring to type anything, the Incel just yelled obscenities while trashing his room.
When is rage was spent and his wrist were straining, he sank to the floor, crying.
Silent and carefully, his mother opened the door to his room, just enough to speak to him.
“…a-are you ok son? I-I made you some tendies a-and…”
“PISS OF YOU CUNT!!!” he screeched, before resuming his pathetic lamentation...
--------------------------------------------------------------------
“Phew… finally finished.” Erik spoke to himself. This was the longest short story he had ever written about Incels. Admittedly, his depiction of the Incel was a little bit exaggerated, but if he wanted to warn the world about these misogynistic terrorists, a few dramatics could be quite useful.
“Copy…Paste…aaaand…Send.” Erik smiled contently while imagining all the praise and karma points he would get for this. Satisfied with his days’ work, it was time for his favourite past time: Online dating. One by one, he logged in the accounts he had on various platforms, hoping for matches and replies.
Hinge… nothing
Plenty of Fish… nada
OKCupid… zero
Bumble … empty
It would be wrong to say that Erik was sad, he was just… disappointed. Disappointed in himself. He had spent long hours to work out the witty texts for his bios and messages but somehow he was unable to catch the eye of any girl on those platforms.
Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe he was just not honest enough. After all, women have a sixth sense to sniff out bullshit. Instead of “in his early thirties” he should just say that he was 34 years old. And maybe instead of “new to online dating” he should just flat out admit that he is a virgin with no romantic experience at all. He nodded to himself, “this will do it”, and began to adjust his profiles.
While he was immersed in this repetitive work, his thoughts were free to wander. Yes, he was an older virgin, so what? Yes, he has bummed out by this, and? That does not mean that he was an Incel. He was nothing like those misogynistic women haters, paedophiles, anti-semites, racists and transphooooooh fuck!
He struck his own forehead to chastise himself for his subconscious bigotry. He had forgotten to check the LGBTQI+-dating sites! He was not gay per se, but, as an ally, willing to be open minded and to experiment… and trans women ARE women, after all.
Shamefully, he logged into his Queer-dating accounts:
Grindr… nothing
Taimi… nothing
Transpal… bingo!
And here it was. His hard work and patience had finally payed of. A (self-identifying) woman by the name of Celestina had contacted him... and she was apparently still online. However, when he opened the message and saw her face, he had to swallow. “B-Beauty is subjective…” he muttered hesitantly and began to formulate his reply…
------------later------------------
…
“…uh-huh.”
“Yea, but we keep a close eye on those lunatics.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If they were to spread their hatred unchecked, a lot of lives could be destroyed!”
“Uh-huh.”
“But enough about me. How do you spend your free time?”
“…”
“...Celestina?”
“…gosh…wait a minute” her staring on the phone turned into a look of annoyance and her typing intensified.
<8 Minutes later>
“…are you gonna order something?”
She looked up from her smartphone and focussed her eyes on a point somewhere above his head before looking him in the eyes. “Look Henry…”
“E-Erik…”
“...I don’t think this is working out.”
“Why not, we basically just arrived here?”
“I don’t have to give you any explanations…”
“…o-of course not, sorry…”
“...but I expected someone more…”
“…witty?…”
“...masculine. I´m feeling like I’m sitting in front of a child.”
Erik gave her a confused look.
“Look, I gotta go now… and if you see me again, please don’t talk to me or even greet me, ok? Just pretend we don’t know each other.”
“…ok…”
Celestina shoved her phone into her handbag and left as fast as was appropriate. Erik sank into his seat, suddenly feeing extremely exhausted, physically and emotionally. “...just another rejection, no big deal.” he spoke to himself while he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Unwillingly, he imagined what all those Incels would say if they could see him now. How they would laugh and cackle about his misery. No doubt they would try to turn him to their stupid blackpill believes…
“No!” He was not weak like they were; he would not let his life be ruled by his romantic failures! He was more than that! Love and Sex were optional, a bonus, a privilege no one was entitled to! He was going to recharge his emotional batteries with some delicious food right now!
As soon as he had finished this thought, the waitress came around the corner. He had seen her before during previous visits but now that she stood before him, he could take a closer look: She was somewhat plump and maybe half a head shorter than he was. Her long brown hair was bound into a tight ponytail. Her soft features were dominated by rosy cheeks that framed her kind smile and stood in contrast with her blue-green eyes.
“Hey, you here again?” she said with a voice that lay somewhere between professional and genuine joy. “What can I bring you today?”
Even if Erik could think of something to say, he would not be able to pronounce it… there was a lump in his throat…
------------later------------------
Therapy was starting to pay off. After today’s session, the sight of happy couples strolling through the evening streets did not sting him that much and his fomo had lessened. Maybe just a few more times and Erik would be ready to take up dating once again.
Also, he would not be dealing with Incels anymore. After giving his therapist a lengthy explanation about inceldom and the blackpill (a process that utterly drained the battery of his smartphone), he was advised to stay away from those spaces since they were dangerous for his mental health. Contact, even if indirectly, with those misogynists was probable the reason for his romantic failures to begin with. Apparently their bigotry spread subconsciously and harmed the way he treated women, even without his knowing… or so the theory of his therapist said.
Additionally, at their first appointment, his therapist had advised him to follow an OnlyFans profile (she did not say it exactly, but that was what she meant) to improve his confidence and social skills with women. Since there was money involved, so was the reasoning, the chances for rejections would be pretty low. He had chosen to follow one of the lesser known channels, managed by a content creator who specialised in feminist-, age- and trans-inclusive erotica.
Erik could not wait to get back home and check if his donations had been noticed favourably. He had learned that even a small “thanks^^” or “Great ;-)”, would make him happy for days. Maybe soon he could even live chat with his idol for a few minutes…
His daydreaming was interrupted by distant yelling from the alley he just passed by. Alarmed, he walked a few steps back, looked around the corner and began to listen:
“…TIRED OF YOUR CONSTANT SHIT!” a strong male voice shouted.
“What do you want?! I don’t have to tell you everything I do!” replied a softer, feminine voice angrily.
“TELL ME WHO OR YOU GET THE HANDS!”
“What? What?... Let go of me… fuck!...”
No doubt, this was a domestic about to get ugly. “Ok, ok, I just have to call the cops.” Quickly, Erik reached for his phone and wanted to make the call… but with widening eyes he realized that the device had no charge left and would stay dead. “…fuck…”
The sound of a slapping followed by a short scream ripped him out of his paralysis. Now close to panic, his eyes searching for the closest pedestrian when suddenly an ingenious idea came over him…
“NOW TELL ME OR YOU GET THE OTHER ONE!!” the man screamed furiously at the young woman who nursed the side of her pain-distorted face with one hand. His voice boomed through the small backyard, amplified by the high walls surrounding them. Not waiting for an answer, he raised his arm to strike her again.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, buddy.”
The pair went silent and both of them turned to the newcomer. Erik had just entered the yard through the alley and pointed the camera of his dead phone towards the male.
“Police are on their way…” he bluffed “…better don’t do anything stupid while I livestr…”
“PISS OFF YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!!!” the (huge) man yelled at him while pointing at the exit.
“…You!?” the woman said with a tone of confusion.
Initially focussed on the guy, Erik now took a first look at the distressed woman: To his great surprise, it was the waitress from the restaurant he frequently visited… the kind one…the one he liked.
“PISS OFF!!!” the man yelled again at Erik, even more enraged.
“H-Hey, it´s you!” Erik said “Come, let’s get out of here.” He went for her, reaching out with his arm.
“No…no…j-just leave, dammit!” the woman said quickly, brushing his hand away with her free arm.
“YOU KNOW THIS LITTLE FUCKER!? IS THAT HIM!?”
“Yea…, No…, w-well…but not…” the woman stammered.
“!!!FFFFFFFUUUUUU…”
------------later------------------
…
“Yes, your Honor, it was a very charged situation but ultimately, he just wanted to protect me.”
“After you were assaulted by this stranger, I presume?”
“Y-Yes. He must have followed me from the restaurant… he is there often, sitting all by himself, always smiling when I pass by… it was very unsettling.”
“I see…And you? Do you have anything to add?”
“No, your Honor. I know I overreached… but when is saw this fu…person strike my girl…I just snapped. ”
“Understandable. I will take this into consideration…”
------------later------------------
Normally, Kathrin enjoyed her job as a nurse. Even if it was hard, or dirty, she just loved to work with people, to help them, to bring them hope, to see them heal from injury and disease... but with some patients, she just didn’t have any hope to give.
With her hand on the door handle, she swallowed, took a deep breath and entered the intensive care sickroom.
She was greeted by the repetitive <beep> of the ECG unit. Its cables, along with a multitude of other tubes and hoses, culminated in the body of an emaciated figure on the bed. The short man was barely covered in a thin blanked, since most of his body, especially his head and neck, was encased in a bizarre metallic framework which held his shattered bones in place.
Kathrin did not like it at all to be in the presence of this particular patient. For one, there was almost nothing she could do for him but to feel sorry. Even if he would ever be able to live outside a hospital, it would not be a good life. Also, she had heard over e long chain of friends that he was some kind of pervert or stalker or something... maybe even one of those dangerous Incels she recently read about.
Trying to avoid looking at the figure, she set to work. Replacing the catheter bag, checked the various instruments and renewed the morphine IV. When she was done, she turned to leave when suddenly…
“…ewst m ot an mcel…”
Slowly, Kathrin turned directly to the patient and took a few careful steps. When she was close enough, she bend over the bed to get her ear closer to his mouth (it was somewhere in the mess of swellings, scars and sutures that was his face).
She listened to nothing but silence for half a minute, until…
“ad lwst im od an imsel…”
The ECG rose in frequency.
“at lewst im mot an Inzel…”
Tears began to stream from his swollen eyes.
“At lest Im not a Incel…”
The metal framing began to shake violently.
“AT LEAST I´M NOT AN INCEL!”
Kathrin stormed out of the room, now and forever haunted by the screams of the guy who was totally, 100% and absolutely not an Incel.
.
.
.
Enjoy more based and blackpilled Stories and Writings at https://basedpill.blogspot.com/
Last edited:
Im crying xDD the moment the soy made his apperance thinking he was a hero of a western movie,haha it's fun because theyre like this irl,they think in their heads theyre doing justice,or some shit.Congrats bro u did it again 
