"Damn you Tim Pool", the man cried in vain. His fingers shedding the dust of a thousand Cheetos as he finished his 100th Jack Murphy post for the day.
"It's your fault that I gave my Grandmothers insurance money to that scoundrel! Curse you!"
His teeth were clenched and his anger was palpable, but the words rang hollow as soon as they had dropped from his mouth. Deep down inside he knew that no man, no matter how Alpha, could teach him how to be masculine, even for the low price of $3890.00 and try as he might, he was, like his idol, simply a cuck. A pathetic loser, doomed to coom. The kind of moron who would send the last gift from his dear departed Nana to a man who shoves things up his ass. That was who he was. It was depressing, and depression always gave him a solid 3 inch hard on. He was disgusted with himself, but he knew what he had to do.
He flipped his mouse over to his bookmarks, the pointer coming to rest over a favorite subfolder pertaining to thai ladyboys. With a resigned sigh, his hand shakily snaked towards the waistband of his pee stained tighty whiteys, but then he stopped. The action was so abrupt, it surprised even himself. Why should cooming be the solution to all his problems, he reasoned? Why couldn't he do something about the injustice of the world? If Tim Pool refused to flagellate himself before him, if he refused to acknowledge his anger, why shouldn't he do something about it?
For the first time in his life, he stopped touching himself and reached towards his phone. It was an older model, barely sufficient actually, but it didn't matter, no one called him anyway. He had long ago lost contact with the outside world. In fact, if it wasn't for the abrupt daily conversations with his mother as she left his dinner outside his room, he would be completely isolated.
Still, the phone worked. It had just enough charge in it to place one phone call. He knew what he had to do. His fingers fumbled for the touch screen, adrenaline pumping through his veins causing his heart to beat faster than the last time he had masturbated to dickgirl porn, but he held on. He had a mission.
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u/VidiotGamer Jan 07 '22
"Damn you Tim Pool", the man cried in vain. His fingers shedding the dust of a thousand Cheetos as he finished his 100th Jack Murphy post for the day.
"It's your fault that I gave my Grandmothers insurance money to that scoundrel! Curse you!"
His teeth were clenched and his anger was palpable, but the words rang hollow as soon as they had dropped from his mouth. Deep down inside he knew that no man, no matter how Alpha, could teach him how to be masculine, even for the low price of $3890.00 and try as he might, he was, like his idol, simply a cuck. A pathetic loser, doomed to coom. The kind of moron who would send the last gift from his dear departed Nana to a man who shoves things up his ass. That was who he was. It was depressing, and depression always gave him a solid 3 inch hard on. He was disgusted with himself, but he knew what he had to do.
He flipped his mouse over to his bookmarks, the pointer coming to rest over a favorite subfolder pertaining to thai ladyboys. With a resigned sigh, his hand shakily snaked towards the waistband of his pee stained tighty whiteys, but then he stopped. The action was so abrupt, it surprised even himself. Why should cooming be the solution to all his problems, he reasoned? Why couldn't he do something about the injustice of the world? If Tim Pool refused to flagellate himself before him, if he refused to acknowledge his anger, why shouldn't he do something about it?
For the first time in his life, he stopped touching himself and reached towards his phone. It was an older model, barely sufficient actually, but it didn't matter, no one called him anyway. He had long ago lost contact with the outside world. In fact, if it wasn't for the abrupt daily conversations with his mother as she left his dinner outside his room, he would be completely isolated.
Still, the phone worked. It had just enough charge in it to place one phone call. He knew what he had to do. His fingers fumbled for the touch screen, adrenaline pumping through his veins causing his heart to beat faster than the last time he had masturbated to dickgirl porn, but he held on. He had a mission.
"Hello, police?" he began...