Teen bulges

Hi folks. I (M 40+) have suffered from chronic low back pain on and off since my teen years, but really got worse in the last 10 years.
Have done tons of physical therapy which helps for the most part. I maintain exercises and stretches at home as well.
I go snowboarding hard, and have no issues. I recently started a new circuit based strength training class (only free weights and body weight), and no issues (at least nothing that I felt in class or right after).
I am making sandwich for the kids and suddenly I feel the back. Gets inflamed and I know it will be bad. A couple of days with a lot of pain, starts improving, and a week or 2 to feel better. This is just the most recent case. Usually happens with the most mundane activities. I get acute pain a few times a year and have to nurse it (OTC pain medication, stretches, heat) back over the course of a few weeks.
From an MRI a few years ago: L4-L5: Mild disc bulge, facet arthropathy. Mild bilateral neuroforaminal stenosis. No central canal stenosis. L5-S1: Facet arthropathy. No neuroforaminal or central canal stenosis.
There is gotta be something else I can try. I am desperate. Not only hurts a lot each time, but I can't help much around the house, be productive at work, it's depressing.
Has anyone seen success with cortisone shots or stem cell treatment?
I used to have chronic knee problems, tons of PT over several years and it would always come back. One day, one cortisone shot, some more PT, and never had the problem again.
Any advice?
Thank you very much

NSFW Warning
I truly don't know what to do anymore, I'm completely lost.
I'm a 20 year old male with autism and possible OCD.
There are many things I want to talk about so this is going to be really long and unorganised.
From age 18 up until last year, I viewed and masturbated to CSAM, and the way I went about getting hold of it is equally bad, if not worse. I cannot express in words the shame and remorse I feel for this.
I know most of you hate me now and I don't blame you, and I guarantee you I hate myself more for it.
The most confusing part about it is I don't find children attractive, there's no groinal response, urges, desires, arousal, nothing. I don't even take a second glance or stare, the only thing I have is intrusive thoughts. Recently I was sat in the corner of a crowded bus, and since there was nowhere else to sit, three boys, none of which could have been older than 13 sat by me, one next to me, and the other two across from me, to which I felt nothing of that nature whatsoever.
My instincts when I've been around children in recent times is purely parental and protective.
I'd never hurt a child, especially in that way, I'd slit my wrists or set myself on fire before I did that, I might just slit my wrists anyway.
I'd run into a burning building, I'd run out onto a busy road, I'd give my life to save a child's life.
I don't go out of my way to be around children, I find them for the most part irritating, I don't hate them though. Throughout my entire life I preferred the company of adults. I even live across from a playground ffs.
I'm scarred for life by some of the things I saw in those images and videos, how the hell could someone do something like that?! I want to climb through the screen and protect those kids, give them a hug and let them know nothing can hurt them anymore.
I stumbled across an image hosting site when I was 16 whilst trying to find material involving my peers again, and the site hosted lots of cropped images of teens on webcams and older kids on webcams (it was obvious what they were doing), and on the page for the accounts, it usually displayed an email where stuff could be traded, but I didn't pursue that until 2 years later.
I went about acquiring it through sending old images and videos of myself, and in a lot worse way as well.
Starting from 14 up until last year, I very occasionally placed my phone in the bathroom and filmed my friends urinating, this happened definitely less than ten times, and most of them I deleted from everywhere, but I kept one and a screenshot of a few others, I started posting these images, as well as my own nudes, on an old reddit account which was deleted not long after, I made sure to hide their identities while doing this, I enjoyed the attention and compliments I would get, and I loved bigging up my friends and seeing them get compliments.
Then I used this content to acquire the bad stuff years later, including the stuff of me.
I had an Idea that this was considered wrong but I didn't understand how it could have been harmful.
This happened to less than 5 friends, all the content I had I have long since deleted and wiped any access to, and I have no intention to do this again, but the main issue is the fact that copies could have been made of it, and I accidentally sent the uncropped video once. There's the possibility none of this stuff is out there, but it's still vile and repulsive.
One of them was my closest friend, who I had known basically all my life, I broke down to him and told him what I had done and what I believe does me to this awful, reprehensible place, and you know what he did? He told me he forgave me and that some video possibly being out there doesn't phase him and his life isn't ruined at all and it will go on either way.
But he understandably said we can't see each other anymore, that he still loves me, believes I'm a good person and wants me to live a good life and make the world a better place, which was a dream of ours.
It's extra difficult because we were so close, we had experienced so much together, held all the same interests and beliefs, and I loved him only like family could, so the fact I committed this vile act of betrayal rids me with so much shame, and deservedly so. In a way I find it harder to get through because I didn't understand the true consequences of my actions and how this could have affected him and others, it would be less confusing and easier to accept I'm just the lowest form of humanity that way.
I displayed other problematic behaviours from a young age, all to do with boundary issues, I sometimes used to touch my friends when I was 12 but never their actual genitals, and I used to jokingly show my erection to people as well.
The only constant that I knew for certain is wrong is genuine rape and molestation, which is a line I know for certain I could never cross, and never will.
From a very young age (around 3 or 4) my mother would do very inappropriate party tricks around me with her friends late at night when they were drinking, her friends would call me sexy, and as I got older and hit puberty, she started making comments about my bulge and other things despite the fact I hated it and told her so.
When I was 7 I was groomed and molested by an 8 year old boy, I wanted him to help me pass a level on my DS game and he said he'll do it if I have sex with him, me being 7 I didn't understand what that was and with him being older I complied. We were naked during this, he fondled my genitals and got me to do the same to him, he inserted his fingers into my anus as well.
When I was 10, two of my close friends groomed me, they simulated blowjobs on each other and got me to do the same to them.
When I was 11, my 12 year old friend groomed and molested me despite me protesting, he got me to get in my bed with him and he rubbed up against me. Earlier that day he also got me to sit in his lap whilst cuddling me from behind, we were wearing underwear.
When I was 13, that same friend when he was nearly 14 and another friend who was already 14 groomed and molested me in my pool again, I had an erection in the pool and jokingly showed one of them it, and it escalated from there. They both got naked and got me to do so, I protested but eventually gave in to the pressure, they also showed each other their genitals and got me to do the same, later that boy got me to sit in his lap again whilst the older boy rubbed up against me.
There was also just the normal experimenting stuff, one of my friends used to show me his erections and I would do the same.
All of my friends were going through puberty and their bodies were changing and so was mine, which I found incredibly fascinating and arousing, and I had seen most of my friends genitals and some other students genitals throughout growing up, so me being young and autistic, I became very curious.
Kids before finishing Elementary/Primary School were swearing and talking about sex, then as I got older (11) kids were drinking, smoking, doing drugs, talking about masturbation habits and apparently having genuine sex. Then by the time I was 13, there was a lot of students taking nudes, nudes being spread around school and nudes being leaked (including mine, which distressed me for a few days, but only because people knew they were mine, if they were spread around but they didn't know it was me, I wouldn't have cared), kids with condoms and other stuff etc.
I started watching non-pornographic sexual content online (sex scenes from movies, TV shows, games etc) at age 9 which I would genuinely get an erection from watching.
At age 10 I hit puberty (testicles largened) and I started masturbating to non pornographic stuff. Including videos of animals mating. I also tried to find stuff involving my peers and found a fake video of stuff suggestive of that.
At 11 I started to grow pubic hair and had my first ejaculations, as well as discover porn, and I had my first crush which was on a 12 year old boy who was another friend, who I would masturbate to. This crush lasted a number of years, but he was straight so it couldn't go anywhere. This was also the age I started taking nudes and videos of me masturbating.
At 12 I started to grow underarm har and facial hair began to appear on my upper lip, I was watching porn very heavily at this point.
At 13 my voice had broken and I was nearly my full adult height, this was also the age I first masturbated to a non-sexual nude image of a child. As well as videos of stuff like naturism and videos of circumcision (I don't have a pain or gore fetish, I would just blank it out and focus on the genitals.)
By 14 I was my full adult height, I had adult sized ejacualtions and my penis had fully grown. And that is when I started posting my nudes online. To which I would have sexual conversations with adults, not knowing I was setting myself up to be groomed and have something normalised in my head which shouldn't be.
By 15 I was growing facial hair, as well as chest and abdominal hair. And I found a shotacon involving a boy my age having sex with an adult woman, and I would pretend to be him.
At 17, a 19 year old flirted with me and got me into sending nudes to him, and he did the same, which I didn't see as bad and despite it being technically illegal, I still don't.
I also did the same when I was 19 with a 17 year old stranger online, but they were very willing and I didn't pressure them, no personal info was shared between us.
I also messaged a 15 and 14 year old at some point but stopped myself from letting it go any further. And cut them off before anything could be shared.
And when I started watching the CSAM, it was mostly teens 9n webcams that I watched, I was lured into thinking that this content isn't kids being assaulted or anything (which it is) and due to my experiences twisting my view, I thought kids were enjoying it (which they weren't) since I would have had enjoyed it at that age (which I wouldn't have) it wasn't until I saw unmistakable suffering which is when I stopped and vowed to never go there again. It was mostly stuff involving boys, the stuff involving girls I just found too revolting. I wanted to relive those experiences, go back to a time I was happier. It felt safe and comforting.
All of these experiencs warped my views and understanding of things, desensitised me and made me believe things were ok that weren't and that kids aren't as innocent as they are seen to be (which they are). I have never commited rape or an act of molestation and never will, these are acts I've always seen as vile and disgusting.
I've suffered with mental health issues for a long time as well.
I've struggled with feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness since around 9 or 10.
I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at 13, I've been self harming and suicidal since 15, I've also been attempting suicide since 15.
I've always felt like the odd one out, I always felt like I was the worst at everything, I was the one who was left out of games at school, the one who was always picked last in sports.
I was bullied a lot growing up, by students and occasionally teachers alike.
My mother is narcissistic and has been emotionally and occasionally physically abusive to me since I was 14 (telling me she hates me and that everyone else hates me, tells me how horrible I am, tells me that I should kill myself and do everyone a favour, threatened to stab me in my sleep, hit me on the occasion, bit me, threw things at me, including heavy things and glass, strangled me).
I truly don't know what to do anymore, I'm completely lost.
I'm a 20 year old male with autism and possible OCD.
There are many things I want to talk about so this is going to be really long and unorganised.
From age 18 up until last year, I viewed and masturbated to CSAM, and the way I went about getting hold of it is equally bad, if not worse. I cannot express in words the shame and remorse I feel for this.
I know most of you hate me now and I don't blame you, and I guarantee you I hate myself more for it.
The most confusing part about it is I don't find children attractive, there's no groinal response, urges, desires, arousal, nothing. I don't even take a second glance or stare, the only thing I have is intrusive thoughts. Recently I was sat in the corner of a crowded bus, and since there was nowhere else to sit, three boys, none of which could have been older than 13 sat by me, one next to me, and the other two across from me, to which I felt nothing of that nature whatsoever.
I'm sexually attracted to males 20 and over, and I'm romantically and sexually attracted to females 20 and over, I wouldn't even date an 18 or 19 year old.
My instincts when I've been around children in recent times is purely parental and protective.
I'd never hurt a child, especially in that way, I'd slit my wrists or set myself on fire before I did that, I might just slit my wrists anyway.
I'd run into a burning building, I'd run out onto a busy road, I'd give my life to save a child's life.
I don't go out of my way to be around children, I find them for the most part irritating, I don't hate them though. Throughout my entire life I preferred the company of adults. I even live across from a playground ffs.
I'm scarred for life by some of the things I saw in those images and videos, how the hell could someone do something like that?! I want to climb through the screen and protect those kids, give them a hug and let them know nothing can hurt them anymore.
I stumbled across an image hosting site when I was 16 whilst trying to find material involving my peers again, and the site hosted lots of cropped images of teens on webcams and older kids on webcams (it was obvious what they were doing), and on the page for the accounts, it usually displayed an email where stuff could be traded, but I didn't pursue that until 2 years later.
I went about acquiring it through sending old images and videos of myself, and in a lot worse way as well.
Starting from 14 up until last year, I very occasionally placed my phone in the bathroom and filmed my friends urinating, this happened definitely less than ten times, and most of them I deleted from everywhere, but I kept one and a screenshot of a few others, I started posting these images, as well as my own nudes, on an old reddit account which was deleted not long after, I made sure to hide their identities while doing this, I enjoyed the attention and compliments I would get, and I loved bigging up my friends and seeing them get compliments.
Then I used this content to acquire the bad stuff years later, including the stuff of me.
I had an Idea that this was considered wrong but I didn't understand how it could have been harmful.
This happened to less than 5 friends, all the content I had I have long since deleted and wiped any access to, and I have no intention to do this again, but the main issue is the fact that copies could have been made of it, and I accidentally sent the uncropped video once. There's the possibility none of this stuff is out there, but it's still vile and repulsive.
One of them was my closest friend, who I had known basically all my life, I broke down to him and told him what I had done and what I believe does me to this awful, reprehensible place, and you know what he did? He told me he forgave me and that some video possibly being out there doesn't phase him and his life isn't ruined at all and it will go on either way.
But he understandably said we can't see each other anymore, that he still loves me, believes I'm a good person and wants me to live a good life and make the world a better place, which was a dream of ours.
It's extra difficult because we were so close, we had experienced so much together, held all the same interests and beliefs, and I loved him only like family could, so the fact I committed this vile act of betrayal rids me with so much shame, and deservedly so. In a way I find it harder to get through because I didn't understand the true consequences of my actions and how this could have affected him and others, it would be less confusing and easier to accept I'm just the lowest form of humanity that way.
The other two friends I stopped communicating with, I wiped the account wiped the content from all areas they were stored on, deleted what they were stored, everything, and there is a possibility it's not out their at all.
I displayed other problematic behaviours from a young age, all to do with boundary issues, I sometimes used to touch my friends when I was 12 but never their actual genitals, and I used to jokingly show my erection to people as well.
The only constant that I knew for certain is wrong is genuine rape and molestation, which is a line I know for certain I could never cross, and never will.
From a very young age (around 3 or 4) my mother would do very inappropriate party tricks around me with her friends late at night when they were drinking, her friends would call me sexy, and as I got older and hit puberty, she started making comments about my bulge and other things despite the fact I hated it and told her so.
When I was 7 I was groomed and molested by an 8 year old boy, I wanted him to help me pass a level on my DS game and he said he'll do it if I have sex with him, me being 7 I didn't understand what that was and with him being older I complied. We were naked during this, he fondled my genitals and got me to do the same to him, he inserted his fingers into my anus as well.
When I was 10, two of my close friends groomed me, they simulated blowjobs on each other and got me to do the same to them.
When I was 11, my 12 year old friend groomed and molested me despite me protesting, he got me to get in my bed with him and he rubbed up against me. Earlier that day he also got me to sit in his lap whilst cuddling me from behind, we were wearing underwear.
When I was 13, that same friend when he was nearly 14 and another friend who was already 14 groomed and molested me in my pool again, I had an erection in the pool and jokingly showed one of them it, and it escalated from there. They both got naked and got me to do so, I protested but eventually gave in to the pressure, they also showed each other their genitals and got me to do the same, later that boy got me to sit in his lap again whilst the older boy rubbed up against me.
There was also just the normal experimenting stuff, one of my friends used to show me his erections and I would do the same.
All of my friends were going through puberty and their bodies were changing and so was mine, which I found incredibly fascinating and arousing, and I had seen most of my friends genitals and some other students genitals throughout growing up, so me being young and autistic, I became very curious.
Kids before finishing Elementary/Primary School were swearing and talking about sex, then as I got older (11) kids were drinking, smoking, doing drugs, talking about masturbation habits and apparently having genuine sex. Then by the time I was 13, there was a lot of students taking nudes, nudes being spread around school and nudes being leaked (including mine, which distressed me for a few days, but only because people knew they were mine, if they were spread around but they didn't know it was me, I wouldn't have cared), kids with condoms and other stuff etc.
I started watching non-pornographic sexual content online (sex scenes from movies, TV shows, games etc) at age 9 which I would genuinely get an erection from watching.
At age 10 I hit puberty (testicles largened) and I started masturbating to non pornographic stuff. Including videos of animals mating. I also tried to find stuff involving my peers and found a fake video of stuff suggestive of that.
At 11 I started to grow pubic hair and had my first ejaculations, as well as discover porn, there was also an image I masturbated to which depicted a boy of my age giving oral to a man, and I had my first crush which was on a 12 year old boy who was another friend, who I would masturbate to. This crush lasted a number of years, but he was straight so it couldn't go anywhere. This was also the age I started taking nudes and videos of me masturbating.
At 12 I started to grow underarm har and facial hair began to appear on my upper lip, I was watching porn very heavily at this point.
At 13 my voice had broken and I was nearly my full adult height, this was also the age I first masturbated to a non-sexual nude image of a child. As well as videos of stuff like naturism and videos of circumcision (I don't have a pain or gore fetish, I would just blank it out and focus on the genitals.)
By 14 I was my full adult height, I had adult sized ejacualtions and my penis had fully grown. And that is when I started posting my nudes online. To which I would have sexual conversations with adults, not knowing I was setting myself up to be groomed and have something normalised in my head which shouldn't be.
By 15 I was growing facial hair, as well as chest and abdominal hair. And I found a shotacon involving a boy my age having sex with an adult woman, and I would pretend to be him.
At 17, a 19 year old flirted with me and got me into sending nudes to him, and he did the same, which I didn't see as bad and despite it being technically illegal, I still don't.
I also did the same when I was 19 with a 17 year old stranger online, but they were very willing and I didn't pressure them, no personal info was shared between us.
I also messaged a 15 and 14 year old at some point but stopped myself from letting it go any further. And cut them off before anything could be shared, or any messages could be exchanged for that matter.
And when I started watching the CSAM, it was mostly teens 9n webcams that I watched, I was lured into thinking that this content isn't kids being assaulted or anything (which it is) and due to my experiences twisting my view, I thought kids were enjoying it (which they weren't) since I would have had enjoyed it at that age (which I wouldn't have), it wasn't until I saw unmistakable suffering which is when I stopped and vowed to never go there again. It was mostly stuff involving boys, the stuff involving girls I just found too revolting. I wanted to relive those experiences, go back to a time I was happier. It felt safe and comforting. It was relatable.
All of these experiencs warped my views and understanding of things, desensitised me and made me believe things were ok that weren't and that kids aren't as innocent as they are seen to be (which they are). I have never commited rape or an act of molestation and never will, these are acts I've always seen as vile and disgusting.
I've suffered with mental health issues for a long time as well.
I've struggled with feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness since around 9 or 10.
I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at 13, I've been self harming and suicidal since 15, I've also been attempting suicide since 15.
I've always felt like the odd one out, I always felt like I was the worst at everything, I was the one who was left out of games at school, the one who was always picked last in sports.
I was bullied a lot growing up, by students and occasionally teachers alike, and even my boss at my first job.
My mother is a heavy drinker, narcissistic and has been emotionally and occasionally physically abusive to me since I was 14 (telling me she hates me and that everyone else hates me, tells me how horrible I am, tells me that I should kill myself and do everyone a favour, threatened to stab me in my sleep, hit me on the occasion, bit me, threw things at me, including heavy things and glass, strangled me). There was also manipulation tactics like gaslighting, she alienated me from others by telling her friends and family how awful I was. Pushed me into meltdowns and got me to lash out, to which she called the police and got me arrested and made me look like the bad one on multiple occasions.
My father was a drug addict who died when I was 14, I saw him less than ten times my whole life, he grew drugs in my room when I was an infant, my most distinct memory is him coming to my house very late one night when I was around 9 or 10 talking about demons and bad spirits.
Addiction runs in my family (my father's father is an equally heavy drinker, his mother is a drug addict who ran a brothel), so the addictive tendencies have been past down to me.
I probably was addicted to porn by 13, and had been feeding it for years without knowing it.
My adopted grandfather died when I was 4, and my adopted grandmother (which I lived with from birth) who was my guiding light, died less than a week before my dad did.
The only father figure I really had (who was an alcoholic but otherwise very good with me) was my mother's partner who she met when I was 6, and he died when I was 8.
I was also very close to my mother's best friend, who had been more of a mother to me than my actual one had been some time died when I was 17.
My mother had an abusive ex who stalked her and threatened to set fire to the house, who also left ranting letters and stood in the back garden at night, so we lived in fear of stuff like that for over a year from when I was 12 through 13.
She also had an abusive lodger who was an even heavier drinker than she is, so from when I was 14 through 16 I witnessed them physically fight, both get arrested and on a few occasions I had to defend her from him.
Many of my friends have betrayed me over the years (I know I'm one to talk) but when this started to happen I would have never dreamed of betraying anyone, personal stuff was shared about me which I trusted them with, there was a lot of bad talking about me without me knowing. My toe closest friend turned on me at age 12 and isolated me from my other friends, I blamed myself at the time which I why I moved schools at 13 since I thought I was just making everyone miserable.
I didn't get diagnosed with autism until I was q9 despite trying to get it since I was 12, it hurt knowing I had been paying my whole life for being different, feeling ashamed of who I am (and rightly so now really), wondering why what I said was offensive, why I didn't understandfulky why this was wrong, why I was so sensitive to jokes, why I took e everyhing literally, why I made impulsive and reckless decisions without understanding the consequences of them.
I was never considered attractive and was ridiculed for it (girls used to jokingly flirt with me to torment me at school). I'm 5'6, always have struggled with weight, hairline started receding at 16, eczema so my skin is always red, dry and flaky, really bad diastema and acid reflux which means it's really hard to make my breath smell nice and my teeth are very worn because of it. I have had sex with someone who was older than me and we were both consenting adults, and we were both very respectful of boundaries.
I was also desensitised to other things slide gore and violence, I played a lot of violent video games when I was a kid, my mother is really into controversial shock movies (she got me to watch Cannibal Holocaust with her when I was 11).
The worst part about all of this is the fact all my friends who I love would hate me if they knew about what I've done so, none of them would trust me anymore or respect me, which is what friendships are all about right? So in a way they feel strange, they feel fake.
I could never find a relationship or true love because nobody wants to date a serial sex offender.
I hate knowing the fact I'm a sex offender, it's eating me alive.
I'm not registered and there is no real proof of what I did, so I can't turn myself in or anything.
I want to do good in the world, I have so much love to give, but it feels wrong me helping people because it feels like there is a sinister undertone to everything I do.
I've always enjoyed being charitable, I love giving money to the homeless or putting change in a donations box.
I feel guilty whenever I feel hapoy since I don't deserve to be, the only things that I enjoy now are food and playing video games, it's the only job I get out of day to day life.
The only fate I deserve is being stabbed to death in prison or something.
All I want is to be loved and accepted despite my flaws and mistakes, but I never could be.
The only other person I've told is my mother, who has been supportive.
I've been on antidepressants since 18 and I'm trying to get therapy, but I'm not hoping or expecting anything good will happen from this. I've been in and out of therapy since I was 11.
I had dreams, I had aspirations, I wanted to change the world for the better, I wanted to have a son, not to hurt him, but so he doesn't end up like me, but I reliase that is not possible. I don't deserve to be around children.
I hate keeping secrets, but I have no choice but to keep this one.
I want to identify with good people, but I can't.
Every good thing I do is invalidated now.
I forgive everyone who has wronged me in anyway, since I'm worse than them.
I just pray I can go out doing good, doing the right thing.
I am no better than Jimmy Saville, Ian Watkins or any of them types of people.
If you want to motivate me to end it all, feel free.
If you have read through all of this, thank you.

Today I am 7 days sober.
I am 29M and got drunk for the first time when I was about 13-14. Even though I was an athletic kid and did sports, I drank heavy at parties throughout my high school years like a lot of teens do. The alcohol consumption definitely got heavy when I graduated and lived on my own.
Drank pretty heavy and partied from 18-21. I moved away to Cali when I turned 21 and cut back at first but started back drinking heavy.
I have had a few sobriety stints since. The longest being a year (June 2021-2022). Mainly because I started to develop pain in my back, abdomen, and around my sides. I started to panic about liver failure, cancer, and all the horrible stuff that comes with alcoholism.
I had about a 2 year period where I went to the ER 7-8 times and was CERTAIN that I permanently damaged myself but every time they would tell me nothing is wrong, even though I felt something constantly gnawing at my back and right side of my body (neck down to back of right leg). It was so hard to tell what was actually wrong with me though… I’ve had 2 bulging discs for a while (since 2021). One in my neck that causes right arm pain / tingling, and one in my lower back that causes sciatica in my right leg. This was all confirmed and diagnosed by a doctor btw. The “worst” thing they told me that entire time going to the ER’s… was when I was 26-27. The doctor said all of my organs looked fine on CT scans and ultrasound. My bloodwork was good… BUT I did an endoscopy and did have mild gastritis along with GERD after binge drinking.
When I quit drinking for that year. It took some months for the fatigue and anxiety to go away… and another few months for the pain to be completely gone.
Sadly… My mother (48) was just diagnosed with stage 3/4 cancer of the pancreas, liver, and kidneys a few days ago. She used to be a very heavy drinker but stopped a few years ago when she started facing a bunch of mental issues. She has ALWAYS been a cigarette smoker though. This whole situation has me devastated and scared all over again.
7 days sober again… and I get so worried because I can never tell what this pain is and I’m trying to be strong for my mother right now. Maybe it’s just inflammation from drinking before? I know the body takes a minute to heal after drinking. Is it my bulging discs that are causing the pain in my right shoulder, side, hip, and leg? Is it my pancreas/liver too?
Soo much anxiety. I can’t wait to continue this journey, because I know last time was so much worth it after that year of sobriety. I pray that I have another chance to make this right and recover again. I plan on seeing a doctor to be safe, but won’t be able to for awhile because of everything happening with my Mom right now.
Any words of encouragement, advice, or wisdom would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.

How hard <(joke) was it for you to keep yourself in check? I was in swimming most of my teen years and while the bulges and locker room dicks were nice to steal a quick look at I never got an unwanted boner or lasted after any of the other boys. Mainly because most of them were idiots but also because we had grown up together. Honestly some of the shit they pulled were gayer than anything I had done up to that point in my life. Anyone?

Just a rant I guess?
I did the classic teen eating disorder with a side of self harm because I was very original /s. Around that time (12/13) I got heavily into goth culture and apparently it wasn't just a phase cos at the age of 31, here I am still applying eyeliner with a trowel.
I got over the ed and sh by the time I was 17. Kinda. I had a relapse 2 years ago where I lost 5 stone in 7 months and kept locking myself in the bathroom to take a kitchen knife to my thighs. Wild how nearly 2 decades later I hadn't learnt any new coping mechanisms but he we are. The day I found out I was pregnant I'd actually hit a weight loss milestone. I joyfully hopped off the scales, did the pregnancy test and my world changed forever. I couldn't quit my bullshit for myself but I could do it for my son. It was like a switch flipped. My son needed me to eat so I did. I told myself I wasn't going to undo the weight loss but I hadn't realised how incredibly hungry being pregnant makes you!!
I'm not able to moderate. At all. The instant I start trying to just eat healthily a horrible little voice pops up telling me "you know a faster way of doing this..." As a result, unless I'm relapsing I just eat whatever the hell I want. Because that voice scares me. More than anything it scares me how much I want to give in to it. As a result, I'm fat. Not ed fat. Medically obese. Trying to dress goth while being fat is rough. My makeup is on point but I just can't present how I want to because no one wants to look at lacey mini skirts, fishnets and goth boots on a fat fuck. Least of all me. It really fucks with my anxiety that I can't dress how I want but I cope, just about.
A close friend asked me to be a bridesmaid. I've just tried on the dress and I'm crying. It's sky blue which obviously is not a colour I would ever wear but the problem is the material. It's SO clingy. It hugs every revolting bulge. I've been feeling like relapsing for a while and this was the final straw. But I can't.
Fun fact. Losing huge amounts of weight in a short time and pregnancy are major risk factors for gallstones. Which is why, 3 weeks after my son was born I was hunched over the bath in the middle of the night in unimaginable pain waiting for an ambulance. My son was an emergency c section and we both very nearly died but I promise you this pain was worse. Happened 3 more times until I did my own research and told my GP what was going on.
My son is 14 months old and the gallstones attacks have stopped because I've put back on all the weight I lost before pregnancy. If I lose so much as a few pounds it comes back. I'm on a waiting list for surgery but it's about a year until I'll get it. It's the only thing stopping me relapsing. I can't lose weight healthily. I just can't. I want to give in to that voice too badly.
So I'm stuck in this hideous body until surgery. I want nothing more than to take control and fix this body but the gallstone pain was the worst thing I've ever experienced. Once I've had the surgery I know I'll go nuclear with the weight loss. And I can't fucking wait.

I've decided I want to start doing in depth reviews of books I read, gather my thoughts and flaws about them and then seek recommendations based on how much I enjoy the books!! I'm a little behind on this books as I only realised these reviews would be valuable to me at like chapter 6 of Full Brutal
THERE WILL BE SPOILERS
Reflections

• I hate hate hate the name of the teacher being 'Bob'. Genuinely annoys me because every other name in the series so far has seemed very well thought out and fitting of their characters - Although Bob feels like such a cop-out. Even a Rob would have been better. This man is an important character: A pedophile who is literally speaking as vile as Kim himself and her vehicle for this sick and twisted relationship she has with romance, and he's fucking 'Bob'. 'Amy' slaps, 'Katelyn' is amazing, Kim's boyfriend 'Derek', even 'Simone'. But GOD, 'Bob' is just so unserious.
  
• The blackmail segment kind of irritated me a little. We know Mr. Blakley is a horrible person, despite being desperate to retain his family and teaching status after banging a teen, and I just feel like the section where they try and blackmail each other is almost uncreative. I want at parts to see more from Kim than 'tehehe, but you won't do that, my silly boy', kind of behaviour. Her inner thoughts are so vapid and she is so hurtful and manipulative, that I just rolled my eyes when they just had a flirty, cheeky, 'tiff-off'. Let me peek into her vileness before the gore begins. Let it seep out of her more desperately as she blooms into this new, sadist, version of herself.
  

(About above), because currently at this point, her vileness is made up of weird experiences she has with violent media, like masturbating to 'A Serbian Film' (later addition: She watched SALO too, another kinda 'tick-box' of gross horror movies, to me), which is uncomfortable but she doesn't seem real to me yet. Her most 'real' moments are when she is with Katelyn. But she does not ever seem to let this darker self slip out at any point and it starts feeling unrelatable and 'eye-rolly'.

• I especially enjoyed the dynamic between Katelyn (?) and Kim. I think it is actually a truly mortifying example of corruption. Kim pulls very good big sister roles in this segment, I think this storyline could progress gruesomely and amazingly. Although part of me feels like Kim only has one personality outside of her 'vile inner thoughts' and 'not like other girls' acts. I want more from her. I want her to be MORE relatable. I want to feel disgusted as I realise I can see parts of myself in her, and be horrified.
  
• I began feeling a bit like the sex was a tad gratuitous. I do like her accompanying inner dialogue about how repulsive everything is but just the language usage (slit, sex, snatch, cunt) is hard to get by when at the same time she seemed incredibly naïve about pregnancy, and sex. It was furthermore frustrating that she made active comments about his role as a sex-ed teacher, went to his classes, and wasn't worried about being pregnant when a guy came inside her. She literally commented on it when they did it. I get her character is going through 'denial' when it comes to her pregnancy, but through the rest of the plot and into Part Two, I still feel like her apparent burden of a foetus is not really there for memorable reasons. We don't even get to see the impact this violative pregnancy has on her body, something she values so much. She is always slim and pretty, and her symptoms become things like her sore breasts, which bulge.
  

Kim is vain, clearly, only harming herself when desperate for a feed later on, and is very intent on maintaining her 'sexiness', but for god sakes you want her to be pregnant? Do it then. Teenage pregnancy is such an interesting topic to delve into in horror (just pregnancy itself is), so show that! Make her body swell, her stomach bulge, her joints ache. Don't just use it to make her titties bigger and to give her cannibalistic cravings. She is a corrupted woman, in the body of a teenage girl, show this impact. That message is so important to her story.

• Aftermath of the party; Honestly, I really like this personality of Kim. She's so much more than 'tehehe', I want this everywhere. She's so much more and it's scary because it's rooted in how some women treat others realistically. Some teenage bullies do victimise young girls like this, and Kim is so much more of a vile person. The realism makes me cringe from the discomfort.
  
• The spontaneity of the first murder causes a lot of intrigue as to how and if she could even get away with this. I'm also not even mad that Mr. Blakley's dead, seeing as he was a pedophile. I won't comment on her personality in these moments again but it was bordering on 'tehehe', and it's a little frustrating. As someone who was an edgy teenage girl, I want to feel more than this.
  
• It was at Chapter 18 that I realised how irritatingly convenient Kim's dad being away is. Her wealth, her private loft, her ability to buy phones and her sheer resources take me out of the story a lot. In fact, she buys a lot of incriminating things, duffle bags and the phones which she uses to abuse Katelyn.
  
• It took until chapter 21 that the pregnancy was taken up as a TOPIC again. It's frustrating how little it has come up, and I find it very irritating she only refers to the baby as 'fuck-demon'. It's just a little exhausting - there is an uncreatively surrounding this baby. The story could be so much more already. I rambled about it before so I wont further here.
  
• Derek literally fell into her lap. I don't know if I like HOW he came into her talons, but genuinely I enjoyed the gore considerably. Cannibalism is my favourite trope, and especially in women - and it was well described. I wish the stakes were higher, though. Derek was honestly kind of a bit of a nothing-burger to me so I didn't exactly feel much sadness for him. I admire the writing style of this author, it has a poetic-ness.
  
• There are a few awkward pop-culture references that take me out. Drake, Juliette has a Gun, Gucci, etc. I don't even know what to say about it, I just find that it exceptionally takes me out of the rhythm. Speaking of things that irritate me about references, calling her vagina 'sex' is really irritating.
  
• What she gets away with is insane. I'm saying this after she has killed Derek, had a guy eat her out in the presence of his body, and then dissolved him, burying his bones in the Blakley's back yard. And somehow she is not entirely closing open ends. Things are wild. Way back, she bought drugs from a student (Zach) who is known to sell drugs. spun a story about Derek drugging Katelyn. I know EVERYONE in this school is terrible but it perplexes me that Zach OR ANYONE didn't say anything about HER BUYING DATE RAPE DRUGS. Darn, even the school dealer is a bad person?
  

It connects to how much people just LOVE Kim. Like everyone absolutely adores Kim, whether they're mentioned or not. It just makes my brain explode.

• Nnnngh, very sexy wallet Chekhov's Gun.
  
• The killing and torture of Ashton and Amy was in no way long enough for as good as it was. I wish it had been more visceral, more gory, more of anything. She is about to be caught, she is about to be finished. It is about a 5 minute description of their murders. I wanted more. Amy was such a included character and I desperately wished that it went on more.
  

Part of me feels like it kind of gives off a privileged school-shooting kind of energy. I have become disappointed in that, since I'm just not sure what to think. I don't respect school shooting energy in a privileged, unrealistic and unrelatable character. Kim means nothing to me, in the end and I feel like she was unrelatable enough to not make me feel for her any deeper.
Everyone loves her, she can seduce teachers, her friends adore her and trust her despite multiple deaths which get increasingly closer to her proximity - and so do strangers. All she is became a sociopath who can only feel like a pick-me, or a 'hehehe, I'm so edgy.' I just don't know what to say, honestly. And then she becomes an amazing shooter, who gets shots on majority of who she aims at, after one round at the shooting range with her nothing dad.
As I write this I am listening to her final rampage in the town. I just don't respect Kim's character enough to be horrified by her actions. It's hard because I do enjoy the writing style, and I think the author can do a lot when it comes to impressionable descriptions of violence and gore. But unfortunately I just am kind of disappointed by Kim herself.
Amy, Katelyn, darn Simone all had considerably more vibrant personalities. Kim just does not scare me. I'm sure there is a message about Full Brutal, specifically. And to be able to reflect on it I could come up with more but right now I have this:
To me, it's a message on teenage boredom, cruelty, mental health and a vile version of a 'coming of age' and loss of innocence. It feels like a 'Mean Girls', 'Clueless', 'Jennifer's Body' but without the final sprinkle of relatability I feel I needed from a teen girl killer feature. The authors descriptions are fanciful and eloquent, but as a mentally ill woman who was once a mentally ill teen, I feel like this book could have meant more to me. In some way, it also felt misogynistic as well, in a strange way I cant explain.
I'd love to hear what others think about the 'message' of Full Brutal, although I do know a lot of splatterpunk extreme horror lit doesn't NEED to be so closely examined.
Anyway.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
7/10 stars for me - Feel free to discuss below and recommend my next book!!

Maybe this is just a some sort of a rant as I am kind of struggling with the general acceptance of incontinence in society.
As a start I am an athletic male in his early thirties with a good career, however I have been dealing with incontinence issues for a while now. What started with bedwetting during my teens, developed into IBS and OAB episodes during college (most likely due to a very bad UTI at the end of freshman year)....years go by and it becomes an intermittent problem which comes and goes. Now fast forward to 2022, the year I which I sustained a spinal cord injury (hyperextension injury; central cord syndrome) I have been extremely lucky that my recovery went well and I was sort of back on my feet in 2 months....that being said the path to a full recovery has been slow, even till this day I have issues but still see some slow progress in the right direction.
Incontinence wise it has been a rocky road, where retention and urge incontinence existed in parallel...likewise for bowel issues. I have been incredibly grateful for protection and with some fluid management I was able to ditch the diapers/pads for the most part during the day two months ago..so I thought. This week I was on a city trip to Italy and I noticed that although carefully monitoring my fluid intake, I was having spams and really had to do my utmost best not to wet myself. Luckily I did take some daytime protection with me.
It felt like my body betrayed me and during these moment I always kinda miss a peesupport system, which got me to think about the whole taboo on the topic:
- Why are there no support groups (besides these great online forums) for incontinence, at least not here in EU/NL (to be specific). For a lot of other diseases and chronic conditions (MS, Crohns, diabetes i.e.) there are meetings, support groups and patient platforms. Influencers/Youtubers even raise awareness for these conditions, but very rarely someone opens up about incontinence while the statistics shows that the adult diaper market is growing rapidly and prevalence of OAB/Urge incontinence/bedwetting is higher than anticipated even among young adults.
- As I am quite vigilant/observant in terms of spotting other incontinent people I have a had a few encounters over the years, lastly sitting in the plane towards home where I stumbled on a passenger opposite the aisle...when he was lifting his suitcase in the overhead compartment his shirt did ride up and I noticed a particular diaper cover and a bulge (boxershort lookalike but with a higher waistline, there is only one Dutch company who produces these, Adjustforyou)...they look like regular underwear for an outsider but the higher waistline and visual differences are noticeable for someone who is aware). As the guy was of my age I would have loved to make a connection, but I always scare away from starting a conversation....as it can be so awkward and intrusive.
- There is still a huge taboo on using incontinence products especially while being young and mobile and often is frowned upon by society. Even though I have a normal life, the incontinence and the use of protection is something which affects me at times and it is not a topic you easily discuss with close friends or family.
I can not be the only one who is struggling with this...but considering the taboo I am just wondering if a) the majority just accepts incontinence/wearing protection and never looks back and does not have a need to get support or b) are simply too embarrassed and even if they want support they prefer anonymous online platforms
​

I dreaded entering the classroom for my Male Masochism in Medieval Literature class on Monday morning, as it would be my first time teaching the course since my shameful visit to Paul and Anna‘s condo. They had, of course, promised to keep my subservience to them a secret. However, could I trust them? Could I trust the people who were essentially blackmailing me? In addition, as a close friend of Paul’s and Anna’s, Kelly was also well aware of the situation. If you recall, the enrollment in my class was largely due to her personal intervention with her friends after she and her boyfriend had encountered me washing Luke’s truck in my driveway wearing a pink speedo. Kelly was friends with at least two thirds of the class, and she struck me as a very social, gossipy girl in general, which was not reassuring. However, she had promised me at the Ren fair not to tell anyone about the humiliation I endured there. Paul assured me that she would honor their pledge of confidentiality in return for my servitude. He also suggested to me that she would be an active participant in it.
From my podium, I scrutinized the faces of my students to see if I could discern anything about what they did or did not know. Several of them were exchanging grins and whispers, but that was really no different than usual. Part of that was probably simply a reaction to the article of feminine attire that I was required to wear to each class. That morning, Brooke had fastened a choker collar around my neck. It was a simple, unadorned piece of leather with no metal or anything that overtly suggested a slave collar. Brooke assured me that male chokers had become fashionable. That may have been true for young, edgy GQ models in New York City, but I sincerely doubted that was the case on my college campus, especially for a professor approaching 40. In any case, the choker got a number of stares and double takes from both students and my fellow faculty members that day. It was to become a regular part of my wardrobe, nonetheless, as Brooke was quite fond of the look. My hope was that people simply viewed me as an eccentric, bookish guy with a surprisingly daring sense of style. Being truthful with myself, however, I thought that was pretty unlikely.
It seemed to me that Paul exhibited even more swagger than usual, again arrogantly resting his feet on the desk in front of him. Anna had a subtle, self-satisfied grin on her face as I lectured. Kelly was her usual bubbly self. However, I interpreted everything differently since the Ren fair and since my first visit to Paul and Anna’s home, and was now always on edge. I found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on my lecture, the subject of which was the liberal use of public humiliation as a form of penance for sinners and criminals in 13th century Europe.
My loss of command of my class only seemed to be accelerating following my own public humiliation. The following exchange during my lecture that morning was particularly distressing:
“Public shaming was sometimes so intense that it was seen as a sufficient form of punishment, so that flagellation was not always considered necessary. Yes, Paul, you have a question?”
“Were pillories commonly used in public punishments in the 13th century?”, he asked with a smirk.
“Yes, they were quite common in the public square. Public shaming events were announced widely so that as many people as possible would come to see the penitent, thus maximizing his humiliation.”
“But wouldn’t the criminal or sinner who was locked in the pillory also be beaten?” asked Paul. I heard Kelly snigger.
“Frequently, yes, of course. But my point was that the public shaming itself was often so severe that flagellation on top of it was considered overkill. Yes, Kelly, you have a question as well?” The two of them rarely asked questions in class, so their inquisitiveness that afternoon was highly suspect.
“Yes, professor. Did public shaming sometimes include the penitent being forced to wear humiliating clothes?”
“Yes, Kelly, sometimes.”
“Were the male sinners sometimes forced to dress as women as part of their public shaming?”, asked Anna. I believe this was the first time she had ever asked a question in class. I heard a few scattered snickers in the room.
“Not to my knowledge. In Germany, shame masks, or schandmaskes as they were known, were frequently used, but more often for women than for men. Such as the scold’s bridle, used to punish, shame and silence mostly lower class women. So really not pertinent to our class on male masochism.”
“What about the cucking stool? Was that when cuckolds were humiliated by being dunked in the water? As if being cucks wasn’t humiliating enough,” asked Paul with a snide chuckle.
Paul was a very bright young man and almost certainly knew that that was not what a cucking stool was. It was clear to me that the purpose of all of these questions was to humiliate me. However, I took some comfort from the fact that all of them came from Paul, Anna and Kelly. I hoped that it was sort of an inside joke between the three of them, although I’m sure other students were picking up on subtexts. As they typically do.
“Of course, not. You know better than that Mr. Betz, I’m sure. Cucking stools, also known as ducking stools, were generally used for scolds or gossips, typically women, in which the penitent was strapped into a chair that was dunked into the water. It was sort of a precursor to waterboarding. Sometimes dishonest tradesmen were also subject to this punishment, but it certainly had nothing to do with cuckolds, despite the name.”
Paul glared at me. I realized too late that I would probably pay dearly for correcting him the way that I did. But what was I supposed to do? I did have a class to teach, after all.
Paul replied icily, “Well, it’s too bad that they weren’t used to dunk cuckolds. They certainly are a lot more deserving of humiliating punishment than gossips or scolds, if you ask me.”
I took notice of his use of the present tense. “An interesting perspective. Well, class is over. I’ll see you all on Wednesday,” I said, eager to bring the class to a close.
Like I said, it was highly distressing. Paul dropped a folded piece of paper on my desk as he and Anna exited the room. I opened it with trepidation: “Had to be cute. Bring 200 additional lines + toothbrush + Johnsons’ furniture polish.” Just cryptic enough to be useless to me as any kind of evidence of coercion. But the message was clear enough to me: I was being punished for having corrected Paul in class and was expected to complete an additional 200 punishment lines that night as well as to buy furniture polish tomorrow. The toothbrush part was a mystery to me. I had managed to complete 450 of my 500 lines so far. It helped that we had just had a long, holiday weekend and that Luke was not around for part of it; even so, I had to do some of the lines in my office at school and some after Brooke and Luke went to bed on Sunday night. Now, I had to complete another 250 lines in just over 24 hours. My fingers ached at the mere thought.
After class, I had a light lunch in my office and knocked out 50 punishment lines before hurrying off to my next trial of the day: washing and detailing Kevin‘s truck.
Because it was early December, I would mercifully not be required to wear a speedo. That said, Luke had instructed me to bring along a pair of light grey yoga pants and my cuckold horns T-shirt to wear while undertaking my chore. I had no doubt that Kevin, snitch that he was, would tell Luke if I wasn’t attired as directed. I really hated the light colored yoga pants in particular, because the bulk of my chastity cage and the small protrusion of my undersized balls (pushed upwards and outwards by the ring of my chastity device) were so obvious through the light, clingy fabric. I considered changing in the restroom of one of the fast food restaurants on the way to the house, but decided against it. I just couldn’t bring myself to face the humiliation of walking through the restaurant back to my car. So, instead, I chose the humiliation of changing in the bathroom at Luke’s mother‘s house, where Kevin still lived. Such was my life now: choosing the lesser of two humiliations. When I had any choice at all, that is.
Luke’s mom lived about 10 miles from campus in a rural area. I pulled up to the curb around 1:15pm and saw Kevin’s truck in the driveway. Apparently, Monday was one of his days off. The truck was indeed filthy; it looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks, if not months. A hand-me-down from Luke, it was not the behemoth that Luke’s truck was, but was still an oversized pickup with four doors. Washing and detailing it would no doubt keep me busy for several hours. I thought it was unlikely that I could finish before sunset. Unsure what Kevin would have on hand, in the trunk of my Prius I had brought with me a vacuum, a bucket, sponges, brushes, wax, leather conditioner, wheel guard and rim sealant, a detail spay, VRP rubber and vinyl shine/protectant and microfiber towels. Not being a car person, I had never done more than a cursory washing of my own car a few times in the pre Luke days. But having washed and waxed his truck at least a dozen times — followed by inspections and immediate sessions with the belt, strap or cane to address any shortcomings —I was now quite the expert in how to do so properly and thoroughly. Still, I had never faced anything remotely as filthy as Kevin‘s pickup.
I approached the front door tentatively, carrying a bag with my change of clothes. Before I could even ring the doorbell, the door was opened by a tall, attractive woman with long, brown hair, probably in her late 40s or early 50s. My guess was that this was Luke’s and Kevin’s mother; there was a clear resemblance.
“Who are you?”, she asked.
“My name is Walter. I’m here to see Kevin.”
“Oh, you must be Brooke’s new husband, right? She certainly didn’t upgrade, did she?”, she laughed derisively. “I never thought she was as smart as she pretends to be. My name is Darla. I am Luke’s and Kevin‘s mom.”
“Yes, I’m Brooke’s husband. It’s nice to meet you.” I started to raise my hand uncertainly.
Rather than respond to me or shake my hand, she simply turned her head into the house, and yelled, “Kevin! Luke’s latest lackey is here to see you.” She then looked at me and said “See you later,” and got into a car parked next to Kevin’s truck. I heard her drive off as Kevin came up to the doorway.
“Hi Kevin, I’m here to wash your truck.”
“Good. It can really use it, as you can see. Luke said he wants you to call me ‘sir’ when you’re working for me. He also said that he wants me to start helping him look after you and Brooke when he’s busy or traveling. So you probably should just start calling me ‘sir’ from now on. He says the two of you are always trying to get away with shit, like disobedient brats. When they were married, Brooke sort of babysat me a couple of times, even though I was in my early teens and didn’t really need one. It’s pretty funny that the shoe’s gonna be on the other foot soon.”
“Yes, sir. I better get started on your car because I need to be home in time to fix Luke and Brooke dinner. May I change in the bathroom?”
“It’s down that hall. When you’ve changed, come see me in the living room before you start.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
As I was changing in the bathroom, I marveled at what a surreal, absurd situation I found myself in. Here I was, a nearly 40 year-old, tenured college professor under the control of an 18 year-old plumber, the younger brother of my wife’s lover. I felt resentment bubble up inside me. Surely, I could use my superior intellect, my maturity, my experience to intimidate this young man somehow or, at the very least, to reason with him, and make him understand the absurdity of him ordering me around like a servant, the absurdity of him acting as a babysitter of sorts for Brooke and me, as if we needed one.
But I have a shameful confession to make. As I pulled the yoga pants up my freshly waxed legs (I had gotten a full body waxing on Friday) and over my panties and chastity cage, any thoughts I had of trying to assert myself with Kevin quickly evaporated. There is just something about the feel of nylon or spandex clinging to my legs (or, when uncaged, to my cock) that almost instantly triggers profound feelings of submissiveness in me. It is really quite remarkable. This is especially true with pantyhose and tights; the lighter the weight and more sheer the fabric is, the greater my docility and meekness. Even the comparatively thick material of the yoga pants —some type of nylon/lycra blend— was more than sufficient to quell any fleeting feelings of assertiveness I may have had. I am quite certain that Brooke, and Luke, were well aware of the intense psychological effect that sensual, feminine clothing has on me, and took full advantage of it (and that was before I started being required to dress as a sissy maid, which took my feelings of submissiveness to an entirely different level altogether). The combination of the sensual material and the humiliating way it exposed my body (and its deficiencies) was a powerful one two punch (especially when I was the only one dressed that way, which was usually the case).
Thus, my rebellion was over before it even began. As I walked to the living room to face Kevin in my humiliating attire, I instead kept telling myself “go with the flow,” Brooke’s mantra for getting through particularly challenging or demeaning situations. In the living room, I found Kevin sitting on the couch with his girlfriend, Kaylee, playing a shooting video game on an enormous television screen. I had met Kaylee once before during the fall at Luke’s house. I had been raking leaves when Luke, Brooke, Kevin and Kaylee came outside to throw a football around. She barely acknowledged me at the time. Why would she? I was clearly nothing more than a worker or servant, certainly no one worthy of her attention.
I stood awkwardly before them for a couple of minutes as they played, awaiting Kevin’s instructions or at least his blessing to begin my task, but fearful of interrupting their game. The same type of insufferable, resentment-filled country music Luke favored was blaring out of a portable speaker. Kevin eventually paused the game they were playing on his wireless controller.
“Hi, Kaylee, we met in October at Luke’s…”, I ventured, before she rudely cut me off.
“Hi, loser. I remember,” she replied, looking at me with a mixture of contempt and amusement.
“Walter, if you call me ‘sir,’ you can’t call my girlfriend ‘Kaylee’. You need to show her respect too.”
“Would ‘Miss Kaylee’ or ‘Miss’ be accceptale?”, I asked, figuring they could always come up with something worse, so it would be better to preempt them.
“What do you think?”, Kevin asked her.
“That will work, I guess. At least until I think of something better. What do we call him? It doesn’t seem like we should call him ‘Walter.’”
“How about ‘Wally’?” Kevin could not possibly know how much I despised being called Wally. Rather, he seemed to share his older brother’s innate, intuitive talent for humiliation.
“That’s better. Although I might just call him ‘loser.’” She laughed.
As I mentioned before, Kevin bore a strong resemblance to Luke and was only slightly shorter. While not yet the intimidating physical specimen Luke was, he had bulked up considerably even in the five months since I had met first him; clearly, the weightlifting was having an impact. About 5’6” tall, Kaylee has short, dark brown hair and a tomboy appearance, but is by no means unattractive. Both of them were wearing jeans and T-shirts.
“What the fuck is that bulge under his leggings? I know it’s not his dick. And what’s the deal with that shirt?”, asked Kaylee. I was to learn that it was a distinct characteristic of Kaylee’s to almost always speak of me as if I wasn’t present.
“I’m pretty sure that’s his cock cage. Luke tells me that he locks up his cock and that he has to beg him to unlock him so he can beat off.”
“That’s fucking pathetic. You mean he doesn’t even get to have sex with his wife anymore? What’s her name? Brooke?“
“Yeah, Brooke. Maybe sometimes he can, if Luke gives them permission. Luke let him of cock jail on Thanksgiving only after he promised to clean my truck today. You know, Brooke used to be married to Luke. He’s hung like a horse. She must’ve missed it. Wally here is what’s called a cuck. That’s short for cuckold. Someone who gets off on his old lady sleeping around on him. I’m pretty sure that’s what those horns on his T-shirt mean.”
“My mom cheated on my dad, but he didn’t get off on it. He practically killed the guy. He practically killed her too. I don’t think she’d ever dare try it again.”
“Well, your dad’s not a real cuck like Wally. Luke says Wally gets off on the humiliation. He actually watches the two of them have sex. He even writes books about it and shit.”
“He really IS a loser, isn’t he? Isn’t he some kind of professor or something?”
“Yup. Luke calls him a professor of cuck studies. Makes me realize that my mom is right that college is a total scam.”
“Hey, watch it now!”
“Sorry, honey, but you’re studying accounting at community college, which is practical. He teaches at that bullshit liberal arts college. The tuition there is like 50 grand a year. And this is what you get for your money?!,” Kevin said, pointing at me and chuckling.
“Can I see his cock cage? I’ve never seen one before.”
“Pull down your pantyhose, Wally, and show Miss Kaylee.”
“Yes, sir.” I pulled down the yoga pants to my mid thigh, revealing my chastity cage, barely concealed by a pair of sheer, bikini style panties.
“Fuck, he’s wearing panties!”, said Kaylee, laughing. “Look how red his face his.”
This particular chastity cage consisted of a series of metallic rings surrounding my cock, the flesh visible between the bars. Kaylee walked over to me and crouched down to get a closer look. After lowering my panties, she tapped the edge of her plastic gaming controller against the metal of the cage, creating a pinging noise.
“It’s so tiny. And so are his little balls. I guess they make him shave all of his hair off. He’s hung more like a mouse than a horse. I can see why Brooke missed your brother. Check it out, his little cock is twitching! It’s trying to get hard, but it can’t, the poor thing.” She giggled.
Indeed, she was correct. This degrading inspection and conversation was causing my cock to throb painfully against its confines.
“I got no interest in seeing that,” said Kevin, to my relief.
“Sir, miss, may I please be excused to clean the truck now? I have to be home by 6.”
“Bring us both a glass of sweet tea from the fridge first. Then you can get to work,” said Kevin.
After I served them their glasses of tea, Kevin made sure we entered each other’s numbers into our iPhones. He wanted to be able to summon me if they needed anything. Afterwards, they sat back down on the couch, propped their bare feet on the coffee table and resumed their game.
One good thing about them living out in the country was that there was no one nearby to witness my humiliation as I worked. I started off wearing a hoodie over my T-shirt, but the forecast Luke had read last week was accurate. When I checked my iPhone, it was 69 degrees, which is absolutely insane in Ohio in December. I remembered with annoyance his dismissive remark about climate change. Luke is one of those guys who would deny climate change even if (or perhaps I should say, when) palm trees and sunflowers started popping up all over Greenland. In any case, the vigorous scrubbing required to remove the embedded grime on Kevin’s truck caused me sweat quite a lot, so I removed the hoodie. It was so hot that part of me wished I was wearing a speedo. Not only was the outside of the truck a mess, but the inside was full of old bottles, coffee cups and fast food containers.
About an hour into my work, I heard my phone ping from where it was lying nearby (one of the things I hated about the yoga pants Brooke bought me was that they had no pockets). I picked it up to read the following text from the most recent addition to my contacts: “Bring us more tea and a snack. There’s microwave popcorn in the pantry.”
This was unbelievable. Here I was, cleaning every inch of his truck, and he actually expected me to stop, clean my hands, and prepare and serve drinks and snacks to him and to his equally lazy girlfriend. A power play, pure and simple, right out of Luke’s playbook. What nerve! I rubbed my hands briefly against my bottom; the feel of the lycra helped adjust my attitude. I then swallowed my resentment and did precisely as commanded.
Neither of them even bothered to look up as I placed the popcorn and drinks next to their feet on the coffee table, so engrossed were they with their game. I worked on the truck for another 90 minutes or so, but was probably only about two-thirds done by the time the sun set. Not only did I need to be home to fix dinner, but I needed sunlight to finish cleaning properly. When I went back into the living room, quite remarkably Kevin and Kaylee were still absorbed in the same game, with the same type of obnoxious music blaring.
“Sir…”
“Shut up, can’t you see we’re in the middle of a game?!”, Kevin snapped.
“My apologies, sir.”
I stood next to them silently for about five minutes before watching one of the figures on the screen collapse to the sound of furious shooting noises.
“Bastard. He got me,” said Kevin.
“I’m done for, too,” said Kaylee, and a minute later, her figure was also apparently shot.
“What was so important that you had to interrupt our game?,” Kevin said to me.
“Again, sir. I apologize, but it’s almost dark and I haven’t been able to finish cleaning your truck. I need light to finish, and I also need to get home to make dinner. I can come back tomorrow to finish up, sir, if that is acceptable to you. I probably will need two more hours.”
“I have a job at 10:30, so need to leave by 10. I’m busy the rest of the day. So you’ll need to be here by sunrise.”
I was completely exhausted, and faced an even more daunting day tomorrow when I had to make my second appearance at Paul’s and Anna’s condo. But what choice did I have?
“Yes, sir. I will see you bright and early.” I then rushed home to begin dinner. I also had 200 more punishment lines to complete.
December was off to a pretty busy start as well. My new normal, apparently.

Does anyone have severe shin pain? I already had two shin - TIB / FIB mris to rule out stress fracture?
My shins are so sensitive to the touch. I can't run anymore. This has been going on for five years. Sometimes I also have burning and tingling on the bottom of my feet.
Can anyone else relate to having all of these other problems too?
Big Conditions: Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia
Fatigue
Joint laxity

• Subluxations in hips, shoulders, ribs, fingers, ankles
• Hypermobility in hips, knees, shoulders, ankle
• Head: migraines
• Mouth: History of dental crowding, dental teeth cracking, root canal, bruxism, temporomandibular disorder, jaw popping
• Eyes: Bilateral astigmatism, high myopia, retina 450
  • Epistaxis - Pervasive nosebleeds in my youth. Had four cauterizations to correct this issue.
• Neck: Neck tension
• Hands:
  • Unable to handwrite due to pain, never have been able to hold a pencil properly, handwriting has declined, piano playing used to cause me pain.
  • Double jointed thumbs and some fingers, can't bend thumbs
• Wrist: Pain in wrists for pushups, push press with bar, scooping cookies
• Shoulder: Shoulder instability and posterior shoulder impingement
  • Sharp pain in shoulder when lifting arms and doing tennis serves (right side)
• Elbows: Hypermobility in elbows
• Spine: Minimal disk bulge T6, L4-5, C3-6- Disk protrusions
• Ribs: Slipping rib syndrome
• Gastrointestinal
  • 1 polyp, 1 ulcer
  • Hemmorhoids
• SI joint: Consistent lower back pain
  • SI joint degeneration – CT Scan on Feb 2021
  • Sacroiliitis on MRI- September 2020
• Hips:
  • Fixed my bilateral hip dysplasia, cam impingement, and chondral lateral separation with bilateral periacetabular osteotomy and arthroscopy surgery (labral repair and femoral osteoplasty) June 2021 and December 2021 -
  • Had lateral central edge angle of 9 and 14 – left and right hip
• Pelvis:
  • Focal Adenomyosis
  • Endometriosis: Stage IV deep infiltrative and peritoneal endometriosis excision (uterolyosis, colon, and rectal endometriosis) and laparoscopy (May 2, 2022, June 14, 2023) endometriomas, adhesions, dysmenorrhea, menorrhagia in teens, urinary urgency, urinary retention after surgery, pain with bowel movements
  • Vulva: Congenital neuroproliferative vestibulodynia/vulvodynia, occasional pudendal neuralgia symptoms,
    • Pubic bone sensitivity
• Legs:
  • Groin pain,
  • Knee pain - patellar tilt
  • Bilateral sensitivity on tibia
  • Extreme calf tightness
• Feet:
  • Accessory navicular bone in left foot - left foot kidner procedure -
  • Bilateral bunions
  • History of tendonitis
• Ankles:
  • History of ankle sprains
  • Ankle effusion
• Allergies: Mast Cell Activation Syndrome
  • Seasonal allergies in Minnesota- Runny nose, plugged ears, itchy eyes, pollen allergy
  • Urticaria and dermatitis randomly appeared in the last year starting in Feb 2021 diagnosed with chronic idiopathic urticaria - Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS)?
• Skin:
  • Keratosis
  • itchyosis vulgaris

Hey, I've been working up the nerve to just lay my soul out here. I generated a new account to maintain some level of anonymity, mostly because I have a hard question. I almost never post about serious subjects and usually keep stuff like this to myself, but this isn't really something I can resolve on my own. Should I, 35/M, even realistically consider dating anymore?
I've been socially awkward and shy for a long time, probably since I was in my mid-teens. My family and I were isolated often since we lived far out of town from any of my friends in school. Really, outside of school, we only had one another. My social development suffered as a result... I just didn't know the rules or how to best present myself. It was always hard to start a conversation, but if someone spoke with me, I would really get into whatever they wished to talk about. Basically, I was quiet until some sort of "permission" had been given by someone else, then I felt I could open up. I made friends with basically anyone who would talk to me, sometimes close friends if we found common ground. My parents were moderately strict and slightly dysfunctional, but they were very loving. We didn't have much, but it was always enough. Unfortunately, when it came to romance, I never really learned the rules for how to go about even asking someone out; my many attempts were always quite awkward since I lacked confidence... at like, age 22. I know I came across as a weirdo to them, acting bashful and shy as an adult, but it's really something that was foreign to me and I was trying desperately to connect on a more intimate level. It must have been even stranger to those girls considering how physically fit I was in High School, like "How can he be so reserved?". I've felt a deep longing to have someone I could be tender with, which over time grew to become a pain in my chest. To this day, it still hurts.
I did have some success in college where I had managed to catch the eye of a gorgeous woman from the university south of us. She was smart, philosophical, deep and incredible, though she was upfront about not wanting a relationship in the strict sense of the word. Rather, we bonded intimately and physically, shared our passion, and really... it was exactly what we both wanted and needed in our lives, just somebody else to hold and touch and feel. She was a very free and independent soul, someone who got along well with everyone but only shared her fiery passionate side with a select few. I knew at the time she was seeing a few other men, but it never bothered me. Our time together was our own and it was beautiful. Our relationship even ended amicably with a fond farewell as the semester drew to a close. She was special... won't ever forget her.
Well, in college that same year, I ended up injuring my back out on the ice. I didn't realize it then, but that one injury would completely alter the course of my life. For years, where I was once very strong and agile, I had now become wracked with terrible pain. I thought perhaps the injury would heal over time or with exercise, but it never has. From the age of 19 to now, the pain in my back became worse and worse. The lowest discs in my back have been confirmed with an MRI to be desiccated, bulging, and torn. This injury also revealed another problem; I apparently have a nerve disease known as fibromyalgia, the severity of which was detected to be far greater than average (or so their testing alluded; an inflammation factor in my blood registered 20 times higher than the baseline average on two different tests with highly elevated cytokine levels). Due to this disease amplifying the pain in my back and, later, in my hands, feet, neck, shoulders and hips, it made working and later even just concentration a monumental challenge that I was stubbornly realizing I couldn't match. I had to file for disability. So... in short, yes, I have become disabled from constant full body nerve pain. It really sucks.
As a man who has reached his mid-life, is socially awkward and disabled... should I even seek love? What kind of a partner would even want someone like me? I just don't know. I feel like I would be a burden. My heart aches whenever I think of being close to someone again, so I know the yearning is there, but I feel I'd fail to provide for my (hypothetical) partner satisfactorily.
That's everything I wanted to say. I just know that I can't find an answer on my own.

tl;dr : I'm a socially awkward man of 35 years of age who's disabled due to a back injury and crippling nerve pain. Should I realistically even consider dating or do I need to learn to accept a life of solitude? 

PLEASE READ UNTIL THE END IF YOU HAVE BREED RECS!
Hi! Sorry for the slightly mean title, no dog breed is ”ugly” but if you read further you’ll probably understand what I mean by that. (I mean personal preference, that’s what!)
I’m planning on moving out next year. I’ve lived alone once before, but being without a pet made me unbearably lonely and I eventually had to move out due to depression it caused. It has been almost two years since I moved out, and I think I’d be ready to do so again, but learning from my past mistake I’m thinking of getting a dog.
Despite loving dogs I’m definitely a cat person, and our family cat is the reason I became so sad the last time. She was there through my childhood and teens and has been in my life for nearly 10 years. :) Due to that I don’t think I’ll be able to live without a pet without having some sort of breakdown. I love having friends and family near but as an introvert I get overwhelmed with real people eventually, so pets are perfect balance and make me not lonely while also not draining my social energy. I won’t get the dog right as I move, maybe a few or more months after I do.
My problem is that literally every single ”city-friendly” ”good for first time owners” dog is the exact opposite of what I like in the look of dogs. They’re all extremely tiny and have either long silky fur or curly poodle fur. They are absolutely the dog for someone, but not at all for me!
I’d love a dog that looks a lot like a dog, when I was a kid I dreamed of a shetland sheepdog, and at my teens I fell in love with english cocker spaniels. I love both dogs still, but they’re not neccesarily city dogs nor first time friendly (from what I’ve heard).
I’d also be attending school during that time (I’m an adult, to be clear), but I’m fully willing to spend multiple hours walking them and going to parks. I love being outside but I’d be living in the city without my own yard so the exercise options are slightly limited.
Someone is probably asking because I also asked myself ”Why not just get a cat?” and that’s because I’d love to travel and visit home from time to time. Bringing a dog with me is a lot easier than bringing a cat, and I’ve also had dog fever for basically all my life so I think there’s a time I need to quench that lmao.
————————————
1) Will this be your first dog? If not, what experience do you have owning/training dogs?

• I’ve looked after dogs before, but never for long periods of time. I know how to play with them and how to tell them no, but I’ve never actually trained a dog from the beginning (although I’d be very excited to). Looking after a cat for 10 years I think I know the very basics of caring for a pet tho.

2) Do you have a preference for rescuing a dog vs. going through a reputable breeder?

• I’d like to get a dog from a breeder since they offer puppy packages (with their food and toys) and also offer support after you take the dog home. Also as a first time owner I think a rescue would be too unpredictable. Plus there are no rescue dogs in my area, they get swoopes up pretty fast :)

3) Describe your ideal dog.

• Loyal dog would be nice, but I’d love for it to be friendly towards people and dogs that walk past, or at least for it to be able to be trained to do so.
• When it comes to looks (most of all!) I’d love a healthy dog. Some general issues are fine, but no flat face or bulging eyes, slight droopines is okay (like a cocker spaniel) but excessive is not. I’d like long legs but short legs are okay if not excessive (like corgi legs are the limit)

4) What breeds or types of dogs are you interested in and why?

• Mentioned earlier but I like shelties and english cocker spaniels. They look like healthy normal dogs but have their own quirks to them :)

5) What sorts of things would you like to train your dog to do?

• Not sure how much, I’m not looking into agility or anything similar, but I’d like some basic tricks like sit, roll, paw and for it to be able to wait and leave it.

6) Do you want to compete with your dog in a sport (e.g. agility, obedience, rally) or use your dog for a form of work (e.g. hunting, herding, livestock guarding)? If so, how much experience do you have with this work/sport?

• Nope :) Unless the breed is known for agility then I might consider doing it for fun once or twice.

Care Commitments
7) How long do you want to devote to training, playing with, or otherwise interacting with your dog each day?

• I’m willing to train it multiple hours a day. When it’s a puppy basically all day will be spent on training the basics but nothing too overwhelming for it, I’m looking for it to know the basics by the time it’s at least 2 years old.

8) How long can you exercise your dog each day, on average? What sorts of exercise are you planning to give your dog regularly and does that include using a dog park?

• I can walk for multiple hours. I love walking around cities and nature trails :) There are a few dog parks near the area I’m looking into moving to and some dog beaches so I’d definitely visit those sometimes.

9) How much regular brushing are you willing to do? Are you open to trimming hair, cleaning ears, or doing other grooming at home? If not, would you be willing to pay a professional to do it regularly?

• I’m willing to trim it and brush it. Daily brushing is not a problem, and I’ve cut people’s hair before so I think I’ll get the hang of trimming regurarly too! Not too keen on going to a professional for that tho.

Personal Preferences
10) What size dog are you looking for?

• I’d like for it to be medium sized, or a larger small like a sheltie. I do not want an actually small dog, like a toy sized since they tend to yap and not bark. I’d love a large dog too but being in an apartment would probably be pretty uncomfy for it.

11) How much shedding, barking, and slobber can you handle?

• Shedding is not at all an issue, I’ve lived with a cat that has white fur so I’m used to all my clothes being full of visible hairs. I’d actually love a dog that sheds, since the ones that don’t are not appealing to me (poodle and also any coarse haired dog even though they shed).
• Minimal drooling, but a tiny bit is okay. Usually dogs that drool a lot are very droopy which is not a look I like.
• Barking is okay sometimes like I described :) Preferrably a deeper-ish bark rather than a squeaking one.

12) How important is being able to let your dog off-leash in an unfenced area?

• My parents live on a farm so I’d probably let it run free on there? I don’t understand the question? I guess it’s not that important?

Dog Personality and Behavior
13) Do you want a snuggly dog or one that prefers some personal space?

• Snuggly! Probably not too snuggly tho since I need to leave the house for school once I move and I want training being left home alone to be not impossible.

14) Would you prefer a dog that wants to do its own thing or one that’s more eager-to-please?

• Eager-to-please :)

15) How would you prefer your dog to respond to someone knocking on the door or entering your yard? How would you prefer your dog to greet strangers or visitors?

• I’d love a quieter dog, but I’m not complaining if they bark at visitors since I was honestly convinced last time I lived alone that someone was gonna break in every night 😭 I’d be living in an apartment though, so constant noise could be very stressful if the dog is too sensitive and guarding.

16) Are you willing to manage a dog that is aggressive to other dogs?

• No. Barking is fine if trainable but natural agression in any form is not something I want.

17) Are there any other behaviors you can’t deal with or want to avoid?

• No agression or excessive barking.

Lifestyle
18) How often and how long will the dog be left alone?

• Again, because I’ll be going to school, it’ll be left alone for a couple hours each day. The school I’m looking at is pretty flexible, so I could probably go to school and come home to walk my dog/play with it and then go back. So best case scenario, It’ll only be left home for around three hours at a time, and in other cases six hours.

19) What are the dog-related preferences of other people in the house and what will be their involvement in caring for the dog?

• Just me in the house :)

20) Do you have other pets or are you planning on having other pets? What breed or type of animal are they?

• I’ll probably get a cat at some point, but only once I settle down to a bigger apartment or even my own home, so I’m not even sure if the dog will be alive once I get a cat or not lmao. It probably will, so a cat friendly dog would be nice but not neccesary.

21) Will the dog be interacting with children regularly?

• On walks maybe but not at home.

22) Do you rent or plan to rent in the future? If applicable, what breed or weight restrictions are on your current lease?

• Plan to rent! Looking for pet friendly homes, not sure about weight restrictions :)

23) What city or country do you live in and are you aware of any laws banning certain breeds?

• No breeds are banned in finland so no restriction there, but my personal taste restricts a lot.

24) What is the average temperature of a typical summer and winter day where you live?

• Average +20c (68f) summers and -20c (-4f) winters. Cold winters, that’s why I’d enjoy a dog with a good amount of fur. Short haired dogs are not perferred but they’re alright.

Additional Information and Questions
25) Please provide any additional information you feel may be relevant.

• I won’t be offended if I’m told a dog isn’t right for me, I just truly don’t know (also, I’ll probably get a dog later in life if not once I move, so recommendations don’t go to waste!). I’d love a dog since I have no idea how my mental health will manage once I move again. I’m also so on the fence of if I want to live abroad one day or not, so that’d affect it too, but I’d probably just take the dog with me. Problem is that I’d like to live in SK or Japan and that’s a 13 hour flight, and idk how the dog will manage that. I am completely willing to take it with me there though! It’ll be more messing with papers and tickets and security but I’m more than happy to (also pay for the vaccinations for the dog). :)

26) Feel free to ask any questions below
(sorry the numbers got messed up, when I go edit it looks fine so idk how to fix it :( )

Hi,
I’m bored and looking to just chill and chat with anyone really. I’m bi and a total flirt, so I might bring that energy, just saying. Happy to talk about anything though. Can receive or give advice (not that it’s worth much 😅) if needed.
Happy to send a selfie or two and verify etc. I like to take my time and get to know someone, so as long as you’re engaging we should be cool. Just talk to me like a human being and don’t get too shy about it and we’ll do great. Honestly ask me anything you want, I’m not sensitive.
A little about me: I’m 18, I’m 5’6-7” ish, about 110-115lbs. Conventionally attractive (did a tiny bit of modelling in my early teens). I’m slim/athletic (competed in a few things throughout my life). I’m happy to send pics and verify and all that good stuff. HS senior born/raised in NYC.
Other than sports, I like music (a whole range of genres) I play guitar and sing (both badly - see my profile and posts). I like most of the docs on Netflix and general reality tv.
Any ages welcome (in line with the rules of the sub) Preferably 18 + If you’re 16 we can talk but just about tellytubbies or something.
I’m happy to talk to anyone really, I am into the idea of talking to older women at the moment though.
Also, no unsolicited dick pics please! - or weird bulge picks (have to emphasise that annoyingly)

It’s a busy day on the set of the popular reality series Love Paradise. As crew and staff is fast-walking from place to place and the raucous buzzing of hustle and bustle echoes throughout the soundstage, Love Paradise’s host is entering her dressing room for makeup
Kamie Crawford has been hosting Love Paradise for two seasons now. The buxom black beauty is well liked by those she works with and possesses a friendly and personable charisma that has a tendency to draw in men and women alike. One fan in particular is Phoebe, Kamie’s new makeup artist. It’s Phoebe’s first day on the job and she love nothing more than to meet her fave reality star. A Liberty graduate, Phoebe has been aspiring to become a makeup artist since her teens and now she gets the chance to accomplish that goal with her woman crush who has just taken a seat in the chair
Phoebe turns to Kamie and with a big grin says her first words to the star, “Hi how are you?”
“I’m fine and yourself”, asks Kamie as she positions herself in her seat
“A little tired but not complaining”, responds Phoebe
“Not too tired to do my makeup right?” Kamie quips with a slight smile
“Uh, you know what can we reschedule for another..no I’m just kidding”, Phoebe jokes
The two ladies share a laugh
“Listen, as long as you can stay awake long enough to have me lookin as close to Beyoncé as you can get, we’ll be good”, Kamie jokes back
Phoebe begins organizing her tools, “Beyoncé is a tall hill to climb but I will do my best for you.”
“And I just ate lunch…Kamie takes a sip of her drink..so..if you smell something on my clothes, it’s just food.”
Phoebe laughs, “got it, got it.”
“What did you say your name was again?” Kamie asks
“Phoebe”.
“Phoebe, cool, cool”, responds Kamie
“And You’re new right, you just started?” Kamie asks Phoebe
“Yup I just started today”, Phoebe replies
“Oof, new makeup artists don’t tend to last here too long”, says Kamie
“No? Why is that?” asks Phoebe
Kamie takes another sip of her drink, “The schedule can be a lot, just make sure you’re prepared, you seem nice so perhaps we’ll be seeing more of each other after this.”
“I would like that”, says Phoebe “So shall we start?”
“I’m ready when you are, I got what is it, 15? 15 minutes?” Kamie checks her phone
“Okay, cool, got it”, Phoebe begins her work
The young newbie starts by moisturizing Kamie’s face. While she tries to remain focused and stay within the time limit, she can’t help but soak up Kamie with her wandering eyes. The star sat straight in her seat, texting in her phone. Her hair perfectly braided, edges laid as if they were in a cozy slumber. Her lips, puffy and fluffy like a tiny cloud. Phoebe can’t help but be in awe of Kamie’s body, the definition curvaceous. Arms containing one extra layer of natural, healthy fat. Her breasts bulged inside of her tight gray top. Her roll around her stomach wasn’t that of an obese woman, but of good home cooking. Kamie’s thighs spilled onto the chair, her hips widened with her ass sucking up the oxygen of the seat. Her dark denim jeans were tightly hugging every curve, dip, and corner. Kamie was ALL WOMAN
As Phoebe begins applying the primer, a distinct odor rises into the atmosphere causing her nose to make an uncontrolled flare.
“Wtf is that smell?” Phoebe questioned in her head
The smell went away as Phoebe continues though she has a sneaky suspicion that Kamie might’ve just farted. The star, quiet as can be, is busy typing on her phone.
Phoebe applies some concealer as she takes in more of Kamie’s pronounced yet stunning features. Then, another strange stench rises up. Phoebe is caught off guard when she accidentally inhaled the odor as she breathes in.
“Oh my gosh, that smells so gross, what IS that?” Phoebe questions to herself once again but now she’s almost certain that Kamie is silently farting
“The least you can do is say excuse me if you’re gonna rip ass right in front me, jeez”, Phoebe murmurs in her head
The stench doesn’t go away so quickly this time. It hangs in the air for a good few minutes
Phoebe continues thinking to herself as she grows frustrated with the star’s rude gas, “What did she eat? Smells like boiled bologna…and…I don’t even know what that is…egg salad?? This is so gross, she better not fart one more time cause I just might…ugh, I STILL smell it, oh my gosh!”
Kamie’s silence both in talk and in farts sees a change of pace when she begins to scroll through tiktok. The noise from the different videos is so loud, Phoebe starts to see herself growing more frustrated with what used to be her fave celebrity
“Oh my gosh, will you turn that down, that sht’s so annoying, ra ra ra and blah blah blah, look at me, look at my dumb stupid tiktok moves,” Phoebe became so impassioned that she accidentally said the last word out-loud
“Huh”, Kamie looks up from her phone
“Oh nothing, sorry”, Phoebe flashes a fake smile and continues adding on the foundation
“HAHAHAHAHA”, Kamie bellows with a hearty laugh as the tiktok videos presume on, “oh my gosh that is SO hilarious. Kamie slurps that last bit of her drink
“Don’t laugh too hard or you might fart”, thinks Phoebe
SLURRRRRRP Kamie sucks up the last inches of her beverage
“It’s all gone, there’s none left, what are you gonna do eat the cup? And I swear if you start burping next”, Phoebe is becoming even more impatient with her gassy client
Then it happens again. A foul stench is now not just rising but filling up the room. The reeking funk of rotten animal products replaces the air in the atmosphere
“Oh my gosh. Oh my..nope..nope..no way that was a fart. Are you kidding..that might be the most disgusting this I’ve ever smelled. How in tf is she farting like this? Who emits this much toxic gas?” Phoebe goes from frustrated to confused as Kamie’s gas now as her absolutely bewildered
Suddenly one of the producers of Love Paradise steps through the door
“Hey, Kam..uhh..we need ya in 5”.
“Alright, thanks Ryan”, Kamie responds
Judging by Ryan’s brief pause he certainly smelled what “Kam” had been cooking in that dressing room. The stench to lingers on as Phoebe has had just about enough
“This chick has some nerve. Farting like a gotdamn cow and forcing me to smell it. I don’t wanna keep smelling your ass woman! Ugh but it’s everywhere. That smell is every fukin where. Jeez Louise”
That’s when a GRGLGRGLGRGL can be heard from Kamie’s stomach. She attempts to cover it up with an “ahem”.
“Yeah no girl I heard that. Maybe you need to go the freakin bathroom”, Phoebe says once again in her head
Phoebe then catches another whiff of Kamie’s gas
“She WON’T. STOP. FARTING”
As that last fart continues to linger, another fresh wave of gas enters the room
“UGH, Oh my…nope, that’s it. You’re done missy. Take your obnoxious tiktok and your nasty gas and get out of my makeup chair. I’m gonna say something. Nope I don’t care, I’m gonna say it”.
“Uhm, excuse me..” Phoebe begins
“HMHMHMHM, Kamie closed mouth laughs at another tiktok as she responds to Phoebe, yeah girls what’s up?”
Just when Phoebe is about to let her have it, Ryan walks back through the door
“Alright, Kam, we need ya on set”
“Oh okay! I’ll be there in a sec”
Ryan scrunches up his face and puts his arm over his nose as he closes the door
“Alright Phoebe, I appreciate all your hard work. Thank you. It looks fabulous. I will see you soon”, Kamie arises from her chair, plugs her phone into her charger, and exits the room”
Phoebe stands there in a cloud of heaps of pungent gas. Her arms folded and her face scrunched up.
“Nasty btch..” was all Phoebe could finally utter out loud
Later that day after shooting wrapped, Phoebe is leaving catering as she is ready to go home. As she passes the lounge room she overhears laughter and Kamie’s voice
“…And I kid you not, the WHOLE TIME, she was FARTING nonstop”… The reactions of those in the room echo to the outside Phoebe’s eyes widen
“…I didn’t wanna sat anything cause I didn’t wanna be rude or like embarrass her, I mean the poor girl obviously has some gastrointestinal things on you know so I tied to just remain quiet and redirect but like oh my gosh, it was SO DISGUSTING”
Phoebe can’t believe her ears as Kamie is completely fabricating everything that happened in that dressing room
“Like who does that? Who RIPS ASS the first day on the job. The first day, you’re a makeup artists but you’re farting like a whole ass cow”
“That’s my line”, Phoebe whispers to herself
Judging by the reactions from those in the room, including the producer Ryan, are as appalled as Phoebe is right now
“That fukin bi…okay..okay, you wanna laugh Kamie, I’ll give you something to laugh about”
Phoebe marches off as she has just come up with a way to to ensure that she’s the first makeup artist to not only get another day, but to get even

hi! I’m an 18f white 140lbs 5’7 and currently having lots of medical problems and thought I’d reach out here, long story! I started having problems right before Christmas of 2023. I was experiencing a lot of pain from bulging discs in my spine that went undiagnosed for a year after a misread MRI. I got an epidural steroid injection to help with my pain and inflammation. Less than 24hrs after the injection i experienced a CSF leak and a spinal headache that ended me up in the ER. We decided to go against a blood patch, the dr explained that there was a high chance he could redo it all for me so i decided to just tough out the headache, dizziness, and nausea for a few days. Headache was gone after 4 days. When we were in the ER, they noticed my heart rate was really high (144 during triage, never went below 105 during the visit) and at an appointment with my family dr my heart rate was in the 130’s. After this injection i started to get really lightheaded and dizzy, which led me to starting to faint right after the new year, Jan. 2024. We did a cardiology work up, echo, heart monitor, and stress test. I passed out during the stress test when my hr got to 200bpm. Everything came back normal. Since January I have been passing out at least once sometimes twice a week. I get dizzy almost daily, still have pressure headaches 4-5 days of the week. I also started doing this thing i call zoning. I pretty much zone out. I am still conscious, i can hear, it’s just like im stuck i can’t talk can’t function i just freeze, it’s hard to describe. My mom says it looks like im in a trance. This happens at least three times a day. Based on research my mom and i have done, they sound like absence seizures, but we don’t have confirmation. I get really shaky when my symptoms are bad, ears ring almost daily. Part of my tongue will go numb and tingly, and so will my hands. My pressure headaches vary in severity, sometimes Tylenol will touch it, sometimes it won’t. When my head is bad noise and lights are very sensitive for me. My symptoms make me exhausted, I wake up feeling like I haven’t slept and I don’t normally stay up late. I take a 1.5-2hr nap most days after school. These symptoms have made me to where i am unable to drive, work, or be left alone. 7 weeks after my injection, we went back to the clinic that did it and told them my symptoms. (We didn’t go back for a post op originally because our insurance changed and we weren’t covered, but thought it was worth to go back with all this). They thought it was worth it to do a blood patch to see if that would help if i was still leaking. I was on bed rest for 72hrs after, felt great. Once i started moving more (not vigorously, just standing and going to the kitchen) my symptoms were back within an hour. They did a brain mri no contrast and found nothing. Since we have been referred to a neurologist. We did an mri of my spine with contrast to see if i was still leaking, it said I wasn’t but he said we can’t fully be sure. We did an eeg (20 min) that came back clear. We got referred to Vanderbilt, but they haven’t been cooperative. We are still trying to get an appt with them, but troubles with my insurance not going out of state and other things im not fully aware of. We talked to a family member who works in network with them, but did her residency at mayo. She recommended trying to go to mayo because of the wait we would experience at Vanderbilt. I have gotten approved as a patient at Mayo, we are currently on the waitlist for an appointment. We go back to my neurologist next week. My mom wants to try to do a 24hr eeg. But we don’t know. I’m a senior in high school. I’m not able to stay at school some days because my symptoms make it to where I can’t focus or learn. I’ll be lucky if I am able to stay at my prom longer than 30 minutes. I start college in the fall and I hope I can still go to my dream school that’s 3 hrs away from home, but right now it’s not looking good. Any insight is much appreciated. Just trying to get answers so I can be a normal teen.

The teens stood around nervously for a few more seconds before Scott spoke up. "Let's get out of here!"
"Which way do we go?" Justin asked.
Brick was shown thinking. "Most creepy things are almost always in the basements, so we should go down!"
"Sounds good enough for me!" Anne Maria said before she, Brick, Jasmine, and Justin ran off in the direction they'd originally come from before turning and going down a ramp to a lower level.
The camera focused on Trent, Sky, Chase, and Millie as they clustered together. “Map says the boiler room's east of here,” Sky informed them.
“Alien eggs are always in the boiler room,” Chase stated.
“Uh, yeah, totally. East it is!” Trent agreed.
The group started to head off, Chase walking slowly until he saw Eva standing behind him. “Are you going to stay here or come with us?”
“I've weighed my options, and going to the boiler room seems to be the better one,” Eva said.
“Then let's not wait for the alien to cover us with goop,” Chase grabbed Eva's arm and pulled her to his team.
Eva slapped his hand off of her. “I don't need you holding my arm. I said I'm coming,” she repeated herself forcefully.
Confessional: Chase
“Normally in alien movie flicks, the smooching couple is the first to go,” Chase confessed. “That won't be a problem for me and Millie though. We're hooked into each other for sure, but we don't want to spend every second of our lives with our lips on each other.”
Confessional Ends
The scene cut to a pipe and some tubes and wires somewhere up higher. Steam was released in a burst from a vent on the side of the pipe, and the camera panned down to show Chef running across another walkway in his costume, a gray-and-orange paintball gun in his hands and a smirk on his face. He heard the sound of footsteps nearby and jumped to a lower level, landing with a metallic clang. He took off running to the left, heading briefly out of sight before reappearing in the foreground in front of a tube that cut diagonally across the scene.
The scene cut back to the five castmates who had remained on the original walkway – Geoff, Izzy, Ripper, MK, and Scott. None of them had made any signs of moving away, and their eyes were all darting around the room.
"Guys," Scott finally said, "we have to get moving. We'll lose if we don't team up with each other."
"I agree with you on that!" Geoff said.
"Hold on a sec!" Ripper interrupted. "Why should I form a team with you?"
"Yeah," Izzy added. "To be honest, we don't like you."
"You don't understand!" Scott continued. "I meant that we should continue to walk together for this challenge, with no alliances in mind! It'll make finding the eggs easier."
"You've got a point there," MK spoke up.
"As long as you don't tell me what to do," Ripper said, "I'm cool walking with you all." As the camera focused on him, the formerly-quiet background music came to a sudden rising peak as Chef lowered himself down head-first behind the burly boy, smirking briefly before he suddenly fell to the ground with a thud.
"Did anybody else hear that?!" MK exclaimed upon getting startled and quickly looked around.
Confessional: MK
"I'm not the most physically strong contestant around here," MK told the confessional camera, "but even if I did have some muscle, it can't outweigh my intelligence. My senses have the benefit of being heightened, and nothing gets past me."
Confessional Ends
The five were shown looking shocked at Chef's sudden appearance. The focus cut to Geoff, his eyes going wide as the hulking Mama Alien rose up in front of him with a vicious grin on his face. The party guy turned to flee just as Chef uttered "Say hello to eternity!" and fired the first shot right in the back, sending the contestant to the ground.
“I've been hit!!” Geoff wailed.
Ripper looked down on him, only to feel his stomach grumbling. "Tell me this isn't happening to me now!" He then rushed over to Chef. "Shoot me now! I do not want to mess up my shorts!"
Chef was disappointed by the lack of action, and simply shot a paintball in the bully's chest. "Out of my way! I'm coming through!" Ripper shouted as he dashed past everybody.
Confessional: Ripper
Ripper was shown to be distressed while the bowl of prunes sat at the table. “Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that second breakfast!” he groaned before holding up a prune. “If things were to get constipated bad, I would've had to eat that entire bowl of prunes!” He then swallowed one after a while.
Confessional Ends
Izzy, MK, and Scott watched as Chef slowly began to approach them, letting out a sinister chuckle along the way.
"Like I'm scared of a glorified lizard! Show us what you've got!" Scott sniffed as Chef started to glare.
"One of us... isn't getting out of here clean," Izzy laughed before whipping out a paintball gun of her own and aiming it at Chef, making Scott and MK back away in surprise.
"You call that a paintball gun?" Chef questioned. He threw his paintball gun away and made a big jump. As he landed, he had withdrawn an even bigger paintball gun similar to one of a machine gun. "This is a paintball gun!"
"Fun! I love this game!" Izzy cheered. She threw her paintball gun to one side, reached behind, and pulled out another one that was very much like the one Chef had with a smirk.
Scott and MK watched all of this with confusion. "Uhh..." MK uttered. "I'll leave you two to your fight." The two then took the opportunity to run.
"If I can handle hand-to-paw combat with a polar bear, I can handle a bald, emotionally withdrawn cook in a Halloween costume!" Izzy stated.
"Who are you calling a cook?" Chef questioned.
The two immediately began firing upon one another. Chef fired multiple shots that Izzy managed to avoid with a backflip. Izzy returned fire with balls that Chef barely managed to dodge.
They continued to fire until Chef finally hit the gun out of Izzy's hands. He followed by nailing her in the chest. She was sent flying to the floor and did not move for a short time afterward.
"Uh oh," Chef uttered. "Not again!"
Chef ran over to Izzy, who appeared to be dead until she made a goofy face, followed by blowing a raspberry at him and cackling before getting to her feet.
"I thought you were dead," Chef stated in relief.
"Yeah, I get that a lot," Izzy laughed. “Okay!”
The shot pulled out, transitioning to the control room as it did so. "What was that?! Where are the guts? The gore?!" Chris sulked. "I'll fix it," he added, throwing away his cravat and beret and putting on a camouflage-print cap. "I really should wear camo more often," he remarked as he checked his new look in a hand mirror.
"Okay, I think I should be safe here," MK said as she pulled her head back from looking around a corner to her right.
Just as she was about to continue on, a voice from behind her startled her. "Got ya, techie," Chef said darkly as MK turned her head and gaped at him. He cocked his gun, and shot a shot blast that knocked her to the ground.
Confessional: MK
“It's kinda strange that a lug like Chef can sneak up on you without you noticing, but he manages to do so somehow,” MK said.
Confessional Ends
A blinking line of red dots was shown on a GPS screen again, the camera cutting to a different viewpoint to show it in the hands of Sky, who was at a corridor with Trent, Millie, Chase, and Eva behind her. Another cut took the view to a door, a klaxon sounding and lights on the left side turning from red to yellow to green as it opened towards the camera with a hiss.
The five peeked inside, and the viewpoint switched to show a large boiler, fire visible through a small window in front and steam bursting out vents on either side. A sickly green glow came from a pit just below, and the camera panned down to show a load of pale green eggs resting amongst the steamy haze. The five looking in from the doorway smiled.
A flash transitioned the scene to a close-up of a faucet leaking out water before moving over to show Scott searching around for the alien eggs. He turned a corner and found himself facing an evilly smirking Chef, making the redheaded farmer scream and bolt away while the big man gave chase.
"I haven't forgotten that time you tried to wimp out on a brand!" Chef hollered and fired a paintball, nailing Scott square in the back and making him fall down.
The impact of the hit was enough to launch his bandana off of his forehead and land on the floor with holes open enough for the bandana to fit through. Just as it was about to disappear, Scott swiped the cloth up and quickly tightened it on his forehead.
"That was a close one!" Scott sighed in relief after he stood up and noticed that the camera was focusing on him. "Can you move on now? There's nothing interesting about a lame brand on my forehead!”
The scene cut to Justin, Jasmine, Brick, and Anne Maria walking to a dead end.
"How did we end up here of all places?" Anne Maria asked in disbelief.
"If we knew, we wouldn't be lost," Justin responded.
"None of us are to blame here," Brick interrupted as he held up his GPS. "We just followed where our GPS's told us to go."
A creaking sound caught their attention, and they watched in horror as a door suddenly slammed down from behind and trapped them.
"Goodness! All of this may have been a trap!" Jasmine panicked.
The shot cut to the end of a wall-mounted section of piping as Chef hooked a tube up to it. "We gotta hire an effects crew," he told the camera before turning the valve and snickering as liquid began to surge through the tube, making it bulge ever-so-slightly.
A green slime started to spray from a pair of fire sprinklers, the shouts coming from below making it obvious that the four had been the ones to get hit. Sure enough, as soon as the sprinklers shut off the camera panned down to show them dripping with green slime.
"Gross!" Brick cried.
"Yuck!" Jasmine added.
"Ooh..." Justin moaned, rubbing the slime upon his chest. "Feels so good."
"I gotta admit, the slime makes you look better," Anne Maria claimed.
Confessional: Anne Maria
“I've seen a lot of models back in my hometown," Anne Maria told the confessional camera, "and while they're eye-catching, they do pale in comparison to Justin, and most of the time, he's not even trying to get attention."
Confessional Ends
The shot cut back to the mist-shrouded alien eggs, the camera panning up to show Chase, Eva, Millie, Sky, and Trent looking down from the edge of the pit they were in.
“Wow. They look so real,” Trent commented.
"So I guess this means we won, right?" Millie asked.
"We just need to get these eggs back to home base first," Eva reminded as Chase looked at his GPS, which still only showed a line of blinking red dots on the map.
"Lower me down so I can get the eggs," Sky told Trent, and the footage flashed forward to show Sky dangling upside-down over the eggs; she picked one up but it immediately burst into green goo. "Plastic props would've been suitable!" Regardless, she picked another egg up.
The footage skipped forward again, panning across from right to left to show an egg in the hands of all five castmates. The door they'd entered the boiler room from was shown again, klaxons sounding as the panel of lights changed from red to yellow to green and the door finally swung back open.
Chef stuck his head inside and smirked, the camera cutting back to a startled Millie and Eva as the former was quickly shot with a single paintball. The blow knocked her over and the egg out of her hands; it burst on impact with the metal floor. The others immediately took off running in the opposite direction as Chef charged at them screaming, leaving their companion to watch their departure with a look that turned into a frown as soon as the other door slammed shut behind Chef.
The point-of-view immediately cut to a door on the outside just as the four remaining castmates burst out of it and ran out onto a Wild West-themed set.
"Attention, civilians!" came a familiar voice through a megaphone above them. They skidded to a halt and looked up, the camera following their gaze to reveal Chris hovering above them in a red helicopter. "The military is here to protect you now. Unfortunately," the host told them as Chef was shown coming up from behind with a grin on his face and the larger gun in his hands, "we can't let you leave with any alien eggs."
"But you told us to take these eggs!" Eva shouted up at him. "That was the challenge!"
"Right," Chris replied happily, "I did!" He laughed and the camera zoomed in on the bottom of the helicopter, showing a pair of bombs strapped to the underside which were promptly dropped.
"INCOMING!" Chase shouted as the bombs whistled downward, jumping to the left with Chef and Eva as Sky and Trent ducked off to the right.
The two bombs landed right where the five had been standing and exploded into a wave of green slime that reached up so far that Chris had to back the helicopter away and close its door. The entire front of the vehicle got splashed, and he was laughing when he rolled the window down. "Woo! Glad I don't have to clean it up!"
Down below, the camera focused on Eva and Chase lying on their hands and knees in the middle of the slime-splattered area. They stood back up, and the other two castmates were shown sticking their heads up from behind a pair of well-placed barrels, completely clean but without their eggs.
"This is not what I wanted today!" Eva griped as the four regrouped.
“It looks like we're out,” Chase said.
“Obviously, but don't feel bad,” Sky comforted, her purple beaded necklace missing from her neck. “There's a chance that I could have you on my team.”
“Add Millie as well and you've got yourself a dream team,” Chase smiled.
Beside them, Trent frowned at their exchange.
Confessional: Trent
"I don't have a problem with Chase, but there are some parts about him that bug me," Trent told the confessional camera. "His ego, his over the top attitude, and his self-obsession about his hair. I do like the moments when Sky triumphs over him."
Confessional Ends
"Not to burst our bubbles," Eva spoke up, "but we don't have our alien eggs."
They all looked around, and Chase beamed as the camera panned to the left to show a slime-covered egg perched on top of a broken wooden plank, which in turn was balanced over the fallen form of Chef.
"I'm on it!" Chase announced as he was about to run.
“No, I'm on it!” Trent made a dash past the three.
Sky looked down and finally noticed that her necklace wasn't on her. "My necklace!" she gasped. "It's gone!"
Trent heard this and came to a stop. The guitarist caught sight of the necklace starting to slip into a drainage. He then heard Chef trying to get up, moving the plank the alien egg was on. This caused Trent to nervously look back and forth between the necklace and the nearly falling egg.
Sky gasped when she saw the necklace fall right into the drainage…only for Trent to reach in and grab it just in time. "Gotcha!" he proclaimed, much to Sky's delight.
Confessional: Sky
"Admittedly, I would've gone for the win, but it was touching of Trent to disregard the egg just to save my necklace," Sky said.
Confessional Ends
"Good thinking rescuing that necklace," Chase told Trent as he and Eva watched the boy walk over to Sky.
They soon saw Chef still pushing himself off of the ground, and the plank finally tipped the alien egg. It dropped and crashed onto Chef's head, covering him in more green slime as he groaned.
"Sorry about losing the egg," Trent said as he gave Sky her necklace back.
"Thanks for saving my necklace," Sky said while putting the beaded necklace back on. “Keith bought this for me when we were dating, and it's special to both of us.”
"You four gave it a valiant effort," Chris announced as he parachuted down into the scene. The host landed, his chute detached and blew away, and he continued. "But, you're still losers!"
Trent scowled at the laughing host until he found two more slime-covered alien eggs resting on the ground behind where Chef had been laying. "Not so fast, Chris. I can see two eggs over there!"
He quickly grabbed one of the eggs before Chef could react and ran off. Sky did the same shortly after, narrowly dodging an attempted grab from Chef once she'd gotten her egg.
"I'll get you next time!" a frustrated Chef said as they ran off.
"Can't you do anything right?" Chris asked him in an annoyed tone.
"Where's my money?!" Chef angrily responded. "Hmm? Give! Me! My! Money!" he demanded, Chris quickly running away in fear.
The scene cut over to the cast trailers, where the ten castmates who had been eliminated from the challenge waited around a few benches, still bearing the paint and slime they'd been shot with. Trent and Sky reappeared moments later, breathing heavily but with their alien eggs intact.
"We have our two winners!" Chris announced, walking in with Chase and Eva shortly after. "Our only two winners. The rest of you really stink," he said as the camera panned across the losers – Brick and Jasmine sitting together on a bench; Geoff and Anne Maria standing together; MK, Justin, and Millie sitting on the second bench; and Ripper, Scott, and Izzy all standing behind them.
"As our winners," the host continued as the camera cut back to him and the two egg-holders, "Sky and Trent will now be able to pick their teams, which means they'll be competing against each other this season."
"We knew about that," Trent responded with disappointment.
Chris cackled. "Bet you didn't see that one coming. After we vote off two cast members in the most thrilling Gilded Chris Ceremony yet!" At the end of his announcement, the contestants uttered a collective gasp.
"Yes, you heard me," Chris told them. "I said two! I'm likin' the twos today. Must be Tuesday!" He made the quip happily, but the castmates just rolled their eyes awkwardly as the sound of crickets chirping filled the void. "Yeah," he shrugged, "I don't get paid to write this show."
The scene faded into a shot of the film lot's amphitheater at night, a quartet of searchlights moving back and forth across the sky. A deep orchestral tune reminiscent of those used for actual televised award ceremonies began to play as two strips of scenes featuring Chris McLean came onto the screen from either side, a third coming down from above over a pale yellow star-burst pattern as the first two ended, and two larger scenes of the host emerging from either side of that. The screen faded into gold and the camera pulled back, showing one of the shining golden statues of the man himself, flanked by searchlights and surrounded by fireworks.
The award show tune reached its conclusion as the footage cut back to Chris walking on-stage, the cast members watching from bleachers on the right. The camera zoomed in on the central podium and the host, who had put on a dashing blue tuxedo with a red bow tie.
"It's time to cast your votes," he said into the microphone. "Under your seats you'll find your voting devices," he explained as the camera panned across the seated contestants – Jasmine in the front row with Eva, Geoff, Scott, and Izzy further on; Anne Maria and Chase at the far right end of the row above; Millie and Justin on the row above and to the left, with Ripper even further to the left; Trent and Gwen together on the right end of the top row with MK and Brick on the opposite end to them.
The castmates looked under their seats, and a close-up of a voting device in Brick's hand was shown – it was a dark gray thing small enough to be held in one hand, with a flashing red light on top and a touch screen that dominated its front. Scrolling up across the screen was a picture of each cast mate in sequence, with an empty box next to them. "Just press the button of the person you want voted off," Chris explained. "Oh," he added over a shot of Brick leaning over to try and look at MK's device, "and no peeking," MK angrily gazed at the boy, causing him to look away sheepishly, "or it's nanana, nana nanana, hey hey-eeyy, good bye!" he sang and finished with a laugh.
"The votes have been cast," he announced as a few deep and dramatic beats began to play, and a close-up of Chef walking across the stage in black heels and a sparkly translucent dress was shown. The cast mates giggled and the camera pulled back to reveal the grumpy-looking man in the same dress and jewelry he'd worn for a few challenges during the previous season; he was holding a number of golden Chris McLean statues in his arms.
"If you get a Gilded Chris," the host continued over the snorts and laughs of the audience, "it means you're safe. For now." Chef glared at the castmates while Chris continued. "And the Gilded Chris's go to...Trent! Gwen!" The assistant tossed one of the awards into the audience for each name read off, and the two challenge winners were shown making their catches easily.
"MK, Chase, and Izzy." The first two were shown catching their prize.
"E-Scope" Izzy called out.
"Fine! E-Scope!" Chris said with a bit of annoyance as he handed Izzy's prize to her before continuing. "Millie, Justin, and Anne Maria are also safe," he called out, and the three caught their awards.
"So is Ripper!" Chris added.
The boy was shown catching his award with an "Alright!".
"Next is Brick," Chris announced as the sound of a catch came from off-screen. "Also Jasmine," another catch was heard, "and last but not least..."
The camera cut to Eva, Geoff, and Scott looking worried. Scott's face was shown in a close-up, followed by Eva and Geoff's as well.
"...Scott!" the host finally announced, and the aforementioned contestant caught his award.
"We're the first ones out?" Eva stammered, looking around at the others. "We did so well in the last season."
"Exactly," MK replied with an eye roll. "That's why we voted you off."
Confessional: MK
"If I want to win, then obviously I'd vote off one of the finalists," MK said in the confessional.
Confessional: Trent
"It was an easy decision for all of us," Trent told the make-up trailer camera.
Confessional: Chase
"Sorry about this," Chase confessed, "but at least you did well before."
Confessionals End
"Any final words?" Chris asked the eliminated contestants.
“Yeah. You guys actually voted me off. I respect that,” Eva nodded with a smirk.
“Good luck dudes. Wicked play,” Geoff smiled as he and Eva got off the bleachers and went to the red carpet.
The footage skipped ahead to show Eva and Geoff walking down the red carpet. They reached the dilapidated limousine at the end, Chef Hatchet already holding the door open for them. Eva slid in first, and once she had gotten in, Geoff joined her. Chef slammed the door shut, and the limousine sped off.
"Who will Sky and Trent pick for their teams?" Chris asked at the podium. "Will Izzy ever answer to her actual name? Will Ripper ever reveal his real name? Tune in next time for another exciting episode of, Total! Drama! Action!" The camera zoomed out with each word of the show's title, revealing Chef standing just off to the side. His eyes went wide upon noticing he was in the shot, and he quickly backed off-screen.
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
The scene faded in to Geoff and Eva sitting in the back of a limousine.
"Getting kicked out first bites a lot," Geoff said. "I knew I wasn't gonna make it very far, but still."
"Tell me about it," Eva said. "Having another million bucks would've been nice, even if it was highly unlikely."
"Being eliminated first may not be that bad now that I think about it,” Geoff rebutted. “With us out of the game, we don't have to go through anymore of those brutal challenges."
“I guess you have a point," Eva admitted. "We worked our butts off making it to the finale last season. A break may be just what we need, and I can focus more on setting up that party."
"I'll be down with helping you if you need it!" Geoff smiled. "And I've been thinking about selling my golden tooth for some cash once my original one grows back!"
"Like you said, I'll help you when it comes down to that," Eva smiled.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Boys: Brick, Chase, Justin, Ripper, Scott, Trent
Girls: Anne Maria, Izzy, Jasmine, Millie, MK, Sky

Hello again! Just wanted a place to express myself :(
This actually happened years ago. We were in Grade 11 and we had a program where we would perform a dance number that had a fitness/sports theme. We were grouped by section and everything was all and well, I had good relations with my classmates and peers at the time. Before performance day came, we had a meeting on what costume we would wear and majority ultimately decided on wearing leggings and muscle tees (the ones where the “sleeveless holes” extended beyond armpit area and expose more of the ribcage area from the side, I hope you all understand what I mean lol). Now, only a handful of us in the group were on the heavier side so to say. In my head I was against it because I didn’t feel comfortable with that much skin exposure (despite having a sports bra inside and having the waistband higher than my hips), but I didn’t speak out at the time because the other girls who were of the same body/chubbiness as me didn’t say anything either so I thought I would just suck it up.
Fast forward to the day of performance, we were waiting for our turn to perform in our school gymnasium. We were sat on the bleachers watching the other groups before us dance. I was having a good time but my bag never left my stomach area and I thought it be sort of obvious to others that I’m not too comfortable and let’s just not talk about it. It came to a point where I had to put my bag down for a bit, because I wanted to stretch my legs a bit because we were sitting for too long. Immediately at that exposure, I don’t know why it became a signal for my seatmates (close friends and other nearby classmates) to be so vocal and teasing like “Woooooow! Looking so sexy, Mommy!” the amount of embarrassment I felt at the time was at an extreme level because my body was my biggest insecurity, I hid it so well because well, I never thought of having that sort of “exposure” of my skin, most especially at a place so public.
I immediately sat down because I didn’t know what else to do. Big mistake. Sitting down further emphasized the bulge of my belly and then the pregnant jokes started pouring in. On top of that, hands started finding their way into the big “sleeves” on the side of my muscle tee and they just started patting and rubbing my belly like they were congratulating me at my baby shower. “How far along are you?” “Who’s the daddy?” “OMG my name you didn’t tell us you were living a secret life!” “What’s the baby’s name?” “Baby? Maybe you mean BABIES!” and they just kept coming, even from my closest peers in the class. I think this was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. Looking back at it now I’m crying the tears I refused to let fall when this happened. I wanted to yell and tell everyone off, but I guess I was too shy and prioritized thinking about our dance because my grades mattered more to me than my pride at the time.
I remember this from time to time but only now have I felt a sort of frustration at myself for letting those people touch me like that and make me feel that way. I know their intentions were only to joke around and I didn’t even set my boundaries and even joined along the jokes because I was so overwhelmed. Now I’m on my fitness journey to get my dream body. I’m aiming for a build that is fit and toned, slightly muscular and just overall strong and flexible so that I would still be active as I grow older. I want this experience to be the one to keep pushing me to work hard for myself and to motivate me on days that I feel like giving up or just pig out and eat. I’m doing this for the chubby kid who kept eating a lot of food because grandma said I wasn’t fat, I was just “very healthy.” I’m doing this for the chubby teen who never felt pretty because she didn’t look like her more popular classmates with small waists and thigh gaps. I’m doing this for future me who will live a good life, an active and healthy life. She will have a body that she never thought she would have and she will thank present me for not giving up.
If you reached this far, thank you for reading my story. May we all achieve our fitness goals and may we never give up on our dreams! Power to you 🫶🏼

What is evil?
Selfishness. Every evil act - every rape, hit, murder, genocide - springs from selfishess, from someone thinking only of themselves or of their tribe, someone giving into their perverted desires, someone wanting to make money or save themselves from embarrassment, woe, or death. Jesus Christ, the paragon of Good, was selfless and instructed His followers to be selfless as well. He died on a cross for other people’s sins. What’s more selfless than that?
Whether you believe in Him or not, the Gospel makes clear that He considered selflessness the ultimate good. Therefore, selfishness is the ultimate bad. When we all love and care for each other, the world is good. When we care only for ourselves, it is bad.
Evil exists.
I know because my grandparents are evil.
You wouldn’t know it by looking at them. They’re libreral, they recycle, they care about the planet and they believe in science. My father is a Republican and I grew up looking at Democrats as the bad guys, but even deep down, I admired my grandparents and thought, in my own half-formed way, that we should all strive to be like them.
They both grew up in the sixties and met at Woodstock. Grandma came from a middle class family that she rebelled against and Grandpa came from the wrong side of the tracks, a fact of which he was perversely proud. “I’m a real common man,” he would say with a grin. By the time I was fifteen in 2015, they were retired and living in a retirement community near Daytona Beach. In the summer of 2016, they invited me down to spend a few weeks with them.
I barely got to see them after they moved in 2010 and I jumped at the chance, especially since my father and I didn’t get along. Typical teenage rebellion stuff that looks stupid in hindsight. I took a plane to Daytona in early June and they met me at the airport. “Hey, there you are,” Grandpa said and pulled me into a hug. There was something different about them, something that bothered me for my first two days there, something that I just couldn’t place. There was a..a...a glow about them, and the twinkle in my grandfather’s eye was one of a much younger man. Maybe even someone my age - a randy and mischievous boy who hadn’t been worn down by fifty years of work, kids, and mortgage payments. With Grandma, the change was physical. She seemed...I don’t know...more lively, like a young girl in the bloom of youth. I figured I kind of aged them up in my mind and thought of them as older and slower than they really were. They weren’t that old, after all, and had never been in anything approaching poor health.
Their community - called Lamplighter - was a fifty-five and over trailer park in Port Orange near the South Daytona line. The trailers were all modern doublewides, well-maintained, and the yards were green and spacious. There was a club house at the front of the park featuring a room for events, a little gym, and a library. Next to it was a pool. The residents were all friendly and nice. My first day there, Grandma and Grandpa took me to a social event at the clubhouse and I was the star of the show; old men patted my back, old ladies pinched my cheek, it was kind of annoying but also nice. Girls might get compliments all the time, but guys really don’t, and it felt good to be the center of attention for a little bit.
The only downside was the handyman, Ed. Close to fifty, he was slow and crept around the edge of the room like an attack dog, his eyes always on me, like a painting that follows you around no matter where you go. “He’s very protective of us,” Grandpa explained, “he’s sort of our bodyguard.” He laughed like that was the funniest thing ever. “Don’t worry about him.”
Grandma and Grandpa’s next door neighbor was a guy named Jim Anderson. He wore polo shirts, plaid shorts, black socks pulled up his hairy calves, and putzed around his yard all day long doing next to nothing. His granddaughter lived with him. Her name was Lindsey. I met her at the clubhouse one day when I was getting Grandma and Grandpa’s mail. I slammed the little door and turned, and there she was, on the same mission. She was a few inches shorter than me and thicc, for a lack of a better term - I can’t bring myself to call her pudgy even if, maybe, she was. Her long brown hair shimmered in the tropical sun and she had this little gap in her front teeth that I instantly thought of as cute. Not in a demeaning way, just…
I was attracted to her. I thought she was beautiful and the moment I saw her, my heart launched into my throat. She felt me staring and turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Uh...hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied cautiously.
“Kind of shocking to see someone around here who isn’t seventy.”
“I live with my grandpa.”
“Oh I’m visiting mine.” I shoved my hands nervously into the pockets of my hoodie and tried not to look like a dweeb. “I’m Kyle.”
“Lindsey,” she said and shut the mailbox.
We walked back together and made small talk. I was awkward and she was uncomfortable. Looking back at it now, I cringe, but I also smile.
Lindsey told me that her parents were killed in a car crash three years ago. She was a self-professed book worm and “old fashioned.” She liked the same music my grandparents did and had a real hard-on for the seventies and eighties. “I just love everything about them,” she gushed. Her face shone like a lamp, and, if possible, she was even more beautiful than she was before. “The clothes, the music, just...everything. It was so much better back then. I wish I had a time machine.”
Because she didn’t “connect” with our generation, Lindsey didn’t have many friends. “I’ve always gotten along better with older people.”
“So you’re one of them,” I said cheekily and nodded to an old woman in her yard.
Lindsey laughed. “I guess.”
She said that there were five teenagers in the community, all living with an older relative. They hung out at the clubhouse sometimes, sharing each other’s company because they were all they had in a place like this. She invited me to hang out with them, and two days later, we met at the pool. There was Lindsey, a black boy named Nathan, a white boy named Evan, a white girl named Cassidy, and an Asian boy named Tran who went by T. “I like to keep it fresh,” he told me with a big grin.
“Fresh as a dirty diaper,” Nathan said and rolled his eyes.
“You got me fucked up,” T said.
“Man, shut up,” Nathan said, “you sound so dumb. I thought y’all were supposed to be educated.”
“School of Pimpanomics Class of 2016,” T replied.
Evan snorted. “You wish.”
We hung out most of the day and when it was over, I decided that I liked them.
It didn’t last very long.
Three days later, T dropped out of sight. I went to his house and his grandparents said he moved in with an uncle in Iowa. There was something in their eyes that told me they weren’t being entirely honest.
I accepted their story anyway. I wish I hadn’t.
Me, Lindsey, and the others would walk around the trailer park together, just talking and goofing off, and after a while, I realized that every time we did, Ed would pass in his old truck and glare at us, then follow us on foot, pretending to do other things but glowering at us like he expected us to do something wrong. I kind of got that even then - some teens do dumb shit - but the murder in his eyes creeped me out.
Did he do something to T?
In early July, Evan disappeared. Same thing. His grandparents said he moved away. Their eyes were red as though they’d been crying, and his grandmother’s voice trembled as she told me he was gone.
It felt like she was telling me he died.
The rest of us talked about it. Nathan agreed with me that something was wrong. Cassidy thought we were stupid. Lindsey just looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said. “Kids come and go here. You know that.”
“Yeah,” Nathan said, “a little too much.”
“Because they visit.”
“Not all of them,” Nathan pointed out. “How many kids have we known who moved away?”
Lindsey fell silent.
“He’s wrong,” she told me later. We were walking aimlessly along one of the twisting streets after dark, the humid light of the moon playing in her hair. “There’s nothing strange about it at all. He’s just paranoid.”
I didn’t notice the hint of desperation in her voice, I didn’t realize she was begging me to believe her.
If I had, I may have known she was lying to me.
“Maybe,” I said, “I don’t know.”
She stopped and looked at me, her eyes dark and mysterious. “Really. Don’t get caught up in some conspiracy stuff.”
We gazed into each other’s eyes, and slowly, like the moon pulling the tide, our lips met. She kissed me, her tongue light and timid, and I kissed her back, mine clumsy and overeager. She grabbed the front of my hoodie and pulled me closer, and I cupped her face in my hands. The kiss deepened and became more urgent, Her heart pounded against mine and I remember thinking She’s really into it. I was too dumb to realize that she was a lost soul, a stranger in a strange land who had always been alintated from other kids by her obsession with times gone by. I didn’t realize that deep down, she was sad and alone and on the outside looking in...that she was desperate for someone, a boy her own age, to understand her.
I just thought she liked me.
She pulled away from me and flashed a dreamy smile. “That was nice,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, the taste of her mouth like candy on my lips, “it was.”
I put my arm around her and we walked home.
The next day, I went over to Nathan’s house.
His grandfather, a stooped man in a baseball cap boasting the name of the company her served with in Vietnam, appeared at the door. “Is Nathan here?” I asked.
Even if I live to be a thousand, I’ll never forget the look of hatred that crossed his wizened face. His bushy eyebrows angled down in a deadly V and her puckered lips drew into a wild sneer. The venom in his expression struck me like a fist to the stomach and I stumbled back against the railing. “He’s not here,” he spat, “he went to visit his aunt.” His eyes hardened as he spoke and his lips puckered even more, as though the words were sour in his mouth.
“Oh...okay.”
He slammed the door, and even though it was almost ninety degrees, a shiver raced down my spine. I turned and froze.
Across the street, Ed stood next to a bush in someone’s front yard, a pair of sheers at his side.
He was staring at me.
His expression was much like Nathan’s grandfather’s.
An old woman came out of her trailer and walked over to him. He turned to her, and the hate was gone, replaced by the look of a small puppy overjoyed to see its master. I took the opportunity to escape and made my way to the clubhouse. I found Lindsey and Cassidy sitting in the library. Lindsey smiled when she saw me, but it faded away at my pale-faced expression. I sat down across from them and stole a look around, crazily convinced that Ed would be there, like a killer from a bad horror movie who can be anywhere he wants, anytime he wants to be there.
“Nathan’s gone,” I said.
I told them what happened, and the color drained from Cassidy’s face.
“Come on, guys,” Lindsey said, “it’s nothing. He only went to visit his aunt. He’s coming back.”
“Seems kind of strange that it just happened like this,” I said. “He didn’t even mention it.”
“That’s Nathan for you,” she said.
I was stupid and in love...so I listened to her. I trusted Lindsey over my own gut instinct and I accepted a lie, once again.
After Nathan disappeared, I didn’t see much of Cassidy. I spent most of my time with Lindsey. We would sit in the padded swing on her front porch talking and holding hands. When her grandfather wasn’t around, we touched and kissed. When he was around, she would show me music videos from the seventies and eighties on her phone. I didn’t really like any of it, but her face always lit up when the music started to play, and she would stare at the screen with a sly little smile. Mesmerized. That’s how she looked. With each video, she lost herself in a time that she never knew, a time that she fetishized and revered only the way someone who wasn’t really there can. For her, the eighties were a warm, fuzzy dream. Nothing bad happened there. It was perfect. It was paradise.
On July 25 - I can still remember every detail - Lindsey’s grandfather was away. She led me into her bedroom and we kissed on her bed until we were heady and drunk on one another. Our hands roamed and our bodies quaked with need.
She was never more beautiful than she was with her hair pooled around her head like a halo, and no woman has ever felt as right as Lindsey did. Someone, somewhere, said that your first time is always awful, but mine wasn’t.
At the end of July, Grandma and Grandpa started acting strangely. Grandpa wouldn’t look me in the face and when Grandma did, I saw mourning in her eyes. The atmosphere, light and summery since June, turned dark and tense. Grandpa didn’t joke and twinkle and all of Grandma’s liveliness seemed to have drained away overnight. It was almost like someone died. I asked them what was wrong but they said everything was fine.
Bullshit.
It was probably a cancer diagnosis or something. One of them was sick and the doctors didn’t think they’d make it. Dread gnawed at me and I laid awake at night in worry.
I’m not exactly the best at sharing my emotions, I keep things to myself, but Lindsey managed to drag it out of me one day. We were sitting on her grandfather’s padded porch swing, our fingers entwined and Lindsey’s head resting on my shoulder. She always squeezed so tight...like she was afraid someone would take me away from her. “It’s probably nothing,” I said haltingly, “I just...I’m kind of scared.”
When she didn’t reply, I turned to look at her. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. A single bead streaked down her freckled cheek like a fleck of diamond, and my heart dropped. “What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“How much I don’t want you to leave.”
Is it possible for something to sound like a lie and the truth at the same time? Can someone mean what they say, but mean something else?
I pulled my hand out of hers and put my arm around her shoulder. She melted into me, and we just sat there, the only sound the hiss of the wind in the trees and the metallic tinkle of windchimes. I wanted to promise I wouldn’t leave her, that we could stay together, but I couldn’t, so I said nothing.
Friday night, August 2, I was sitting in my room and scrolling through Discord when Grandpa came in without knocking. Grandpa always knocked.
I looked up, and his face was pale and drawn. He looked far, far older than I’d ever seen him.
In an instant, I knew something was wrong. “Lindsey’s here.”
That’s not what I expected to hear at all. Your Grandmother’s dead, maybe, or I have terminal AIDS. Why did he look so upset that Lindsey was here?
I put my computer aside, pulled on my hoodie, and went outside. Lindsey stood at the bottom of the stairs, and when she saw me, the corners of her mouth turned up in a pallid smile. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied gloomy.
“What’s up?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just wanted to see if...you wanted to go for a walk.”
Hand-in-hand, we made our way toward the clubhouse. I told her about my grandfather and she listened silently. Her grip on my hand tightened the closer we got - then, I thought she did it to comfort me, but now I think it was out of desperation. The clubhouse appeared in the distance, every window blazing with light. Something was happening. A 90th birthday party or a 50th anniversary, maybe.
Lindsey stopped me. I turned to face her, and, pushing up on her tippy toes, she held my face in her hands and kissed me. Were those tears in her eyes again?
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” I replied.
Did I mean it? I don’t know. I was fifteen. Did she mean it? In her own way, I think she did.
Holding my hand again, she led me purposely toward the clubhouse, her grip forcing my knuckles together.
We were at the back door by the mailboxes when she let go. Her hand fluttered to her face and she began to cry.
I opened my mouth, but someone hit me from behind and I blacked out.
I came awake gradually, like a diver rising from the depths. My head throbbed in sickly rhythm with my heart and my stomach churned so badly I almost puked. I pushed myself to a sitting position and a wave of nausea crashed over me. I moaned and almost went down again.
When I recovered, I looked around, my heartbeat speeding up. I was in a cage in the storeroom, murky light emanating from an overhead bulb. I was naked save for my boxers and there was a dog collar around my neck.
A door opened, and Lindsey came in, her eyes pointed ashamedly at her feet. She wore a long brown robe with the hood pushed back. Her face was white and her steps somber. “What’s going on?” I asked, panic gripping me. “What’s happening?”
Still not looking at me, Lindsey knelt before the cage. “I tried to stop them.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The Masters.”
My head spun. Masters? Who were the masters?
“I really tried,” she said, her voice breaking. “But you were chosen.”
“For what?” I asked.
Finally, she looked up at me, great sadness in her eyes. “As a sacrifice.”
Before I could reply, Ed came in, a lesh in one hand and a cattle prod in the other. Lindsey produced a key from the folds of her robe and unlocked the cage. Ed dragged me out, attached the lesh to the collar, and shoved me toward the door, making me stumble.
They led me into the main room, where all the events were held, and what I saw froze my blood. All of the residents - old men, old ladies, people I had spent the summer getting to know - were crowded in the middle of the floor, each one wearing a robe like Lindsey’s. Jerking left and right, I saw Nathan’s grandparents, Evan’s, mine. Grandma looked away, tears streaming down her face, and Grandpa gazed into the ether, regret stamped onto his face. At the head of the room was a metal X-shaped thing on a raised platform. Mr. Anderson stood next to it and watched me with disdain as Ed and Lindsey strapped me into it, binding my wrists and ankles. Lindsey stroked my cheek, favored me with a longing look, then joined the crowd.
Mr. Anderson’s voice filled the room, rich and booming. “We are gathered here tonight as the Last Generation, the Greatest Generation, the Generation That Shall Not Pass.”
“Forever,” everyone intoned.
“Winter approaches each of us, but we will not give it quarter. We will not allow ourselves to fade away. We have built the altar and the works upon it and we will not hand them down.”
I struggled against my bonds, sputtering broken words and half-coherent prayers. I flexed and rolled my wrists.
The right one...the one that Lindsey secured...was loose.
“...we will not lay down and let a new generation, an inferior generation, take our place. This is our world and we will cede it to no one.”
He withdrew a wickedly sharp knife from beneath his robe, and terror burst inside of me. “We will consume the blood of this boy and it will sustain us. On their blood, we will live. On their bones, we will build. With their lives, we will dwell in power forever.”
“Forever.”
I yanked, tugged, and arched my back. The strap was looser. If I pulled just a little more, I could get my hand free.
Mr. Anderson took a step toward me, but a long, high scream stopped him. Everyone turned to look at Nathan’s grandmother. Her chest rose and fell and her eyes bulged from their sockets in madness. “This isn’t right!” she screamed. “We can’t do this!”
Her husband tried to calm her, but she pulled away. “It’s wrong! You killed my grandbaby and it’s wrong!” She broke down in tears.
Mr. Anderson looked at Ed and Ed walked over. Nathan’s grandfather glared. “You stay away from her. Can’t you see she’s mourning?”
“There is no mourning,” Mr. Anderson said.
Ed grabbed Nathan’s grandfather. With surprising speed, Nathan’s grandfather punched him in the face. A shocked murmur ran through the room, and Mr. Anderson went to go help his minion. Ed, having recovered, lunged for Nathan’s grandfather and pinned him to the wall.
Nathan’s grandmother screamed and attacked Ed with a flurry of slaps. Ed shoved her away, and someone held her back. I flexed and rolled my wrists harder, harder, harder. Finally, my hand slipped out, and working on pure adrenaline, I unstrapped my other hand and my feet.
“He’s getting away!” someone cried.
I jumped from the platform and bolted for the nearest door, my bare feet slapping against the tiles and my heartbeat echoing through my head. They chased me, but I didn’t look back, couldn’t look back.
Slamming through the door, I ran down the street toward the main road where traffic streaked by in both directions.
I don’t remember almost being hit by a car, don’t remember how I wound up in the back of a police cruiser sobbing hysterically. I wished I didn’t remember any of it.
The police didn’t believe my story. Grandma and Grandpa cooked up a story about a fight and said I ran away. Dad bought it because he thought I was an asshole, and Mom bought it because who wants to believe that their parents are killers?
I haven’t spoken to anyone about this since it happened. Not Mom, not Dad, and not my grandparents. They send me cards for my birthday and Christmas but I never read them. Last month, I got one for Easter, and I don’t know why, but I looked inside.
We’re sorry, Grandma had written, but we’re afraid to let go.
I believe them. They’re terrified of letting go and passing away.
They’re terrified of growing old and dying.
They’re terrified of us.

preface (i): Asking for your life experience not medical advice don't worry
preface (ii): I don't know much about the condition. I've been seeing people post about constant pains and screws up in their backs - I'm sorry if talking about acrobatics or skiing is "privileged" or tone deaf to yall's more intense pains I have no such intention. This diagnosis is new and scary for me and I have literally no where else to ask and this sub seems helpful and wholesome.
So, my back was hurting for a really long time and felt weird and bulgy and then they took some CTs and MRIs and the diagnosis was as follows (Translated from Hebrew so I might have gotten something wrong):
L5-S1: spondylolysis double sided on L5 with minimal anterolisthesis L5-S1: bulging disc L2: Hemangioma
I'm 28, the pain is with me for about a year now down my back and some other places. The doctors are saying the fracture happened sometime during my teen years by the looks of the scarring in the MRI and their general experience. It honestly doesn't hurt MUCH but it hurts ALL THE TIME.
The Doctors, a bunch of them deemed no operation is required any time soon but basically recommended I avoid any and all physical activities outside swimming and physiotherapy. I ski, practice slackline, rollerblade, boulder every now and then and I've had some very big promises to myself to get into dance, acrobatics and yoga in an attempt to make peace with some unrelated issues with my body.
A doctor basically said "It's like smoking - some people do it despite it killing them", anther one said "It's simple - your spine isn't mechanically stable anymore and you should avoid any and all of these activities and running" (but running sucks). As I've said before - this may seem silly but movement is not only a big part of my life it's also an unrealized promise to myself. I've been pursuing a very demanding academic degree and kept myself motivated knowing that at some point I could develop my body and movement in the ways I always wanted and now apparently working out wrong a decade ago just cancels everything?
Are you with a similar diagnosis and active? Did anyone try something and fail and would enforce the doctors' recommendation to avoid? How do you sporty / extreme people cope?
Thanks :( !

I know how the title sounds, please hear me out.
When I was in my late teens, I began having intermittent shooting pains through my penis. At first rarely and mild, but over time more often and to the point I'd freeze in place for a minute whatever I was doing, waiting for it to pass.
This made it difficult professionally and socially, and erections and intercourse became extra painful, so I finally saw a doctor about it.
After many visits and dismissals as being from excessive masturbation, stress or being psychosomatic I finally found a doctor who told me I have a rare genetic condition where my penis tissue doesn't contain enough of a protein, making my penis more stretchable and malleable but also causing microscopic tearing.
With salves, pills and a sheath/pouch I have managed the symptoms and for the most part been pain free.
I have to take pills to avoid heavy erections or my penis will literally tear itself apart at the seams one erection at a time. My wife and I have sex a couple of times a week but for the last four years it's been non-penetrative except for toys.
It's been almost 30 years since my diagnosis and my penis looks like one of those dogs with excessive facial skin. The pains have become worse over the last two years and my penis is always purple from bruising. I have to pull back all the skin when I pee, it gets splashed when I'm sitting on the toilet, it chafes inside my pants and makes them bulge.
It's going to keep going in this direction.
I've decided that I want to amputate my penis since I'm not getting any use of it and it's a constant discomfort, pain and bother.
My wife is completely against this. She says she prefers it to a gaping hole, says it's nice to touch and that maybe there will be better aid in the future. I've tried to talk to her many times about the suffering it causes me but she is dismissive and avoidant. I've asked her to meet my doctor or a therapist together to talk about it but she refuses.
I feel tired and stressed. I hate the pain and I just want to relax.
WIBTAH if I amputated my penis despite my wife's disapproval?

Hi guys,
I'm afraid I might be intruding here because I don't have a diagnosis or anything but I'm pretty desperate right now and would like some insight from people who won't immediately dismiss any sort of chronic back pain as a product of stress. So. I feel like this might be a bit of a long post but I'll try to keep it short and before I lose any of you to my ramblings, my actual questions are: how did your symptoms start out, what exactly does your pain feel like and how did you arrive at your diagnosis? (only if you feel comfortable sharing of course!) I've googled a lot but still haven't really found a way to distinguish inflamed pain from other back pain so I thought seeking out people with first hand experience might help.
Ok so here's my own pain story: I'm 26 years old (female) and I've had chronic back pain for over a decade now. It started with two herniated discs when I was about 14. I didn't work out back then so the working theory why I got them so young was too little movement + maybe somewhat of a genetic predisposition (both my parents had herniated discs at some point in their lives). I'm also hypermobile, at least both my hands are, so it could be that my ligaments and stuff are generally not that great at holding things in place. I got lots of physical therapy in my teenage years but still moved around too little (heavily depressed in my youth) and had constant lower back pain even though the herniated discs should've healed on their own. I was never overweight though so that can't have been the problem.
In my early 20ies I finally kind of got into working out, mostly strength training with my own body weight. I've been doing it 1-3 times a week for about 2-3 years now, switching from youtube vids to going to the gym and now doing ems training (body weight training with electrical muscle stimulation). I get that this is not the ideal amount of working out, especially when the rest of your life is mostly sedentary (university and working at the library) but it's definitely not less than what my friends and family are doing and they're mostly fine. But I feel like my back's only getting worse! And the chronic pain is slowly spreading from my lower back to basically the whole spine.
I've had an MRI of my lower back in 2022 that showed a mild scoliosis (I swear I didn't have that as a teen..?), one bulging disc and two instances of spondylarthrosis, so basically facet joint syndrome I think (but no sacroiliitis). Sorry I'm translating from German here and the translator keeps saying "spondylarthritis" but in German there's a difference between arthrosis and arthritis? What was diagnosed is the degenerative thing and only one of the two instances was activated/inflamed. Writing this all out it seems I've got my answer to my back pain but my orthopedist insists that lots of people have MRIs like mine and don't have any pain. He also keeps asking me about my stress levels which is driving me nuts. I know that stress can fuck you up but like what am I supposed to do? Stop being autistic? Drop uni and quit work? Also having chronic pain doesn't really help the stress, does it? Big sigh ...
Even though I'm working out consistently now I feel like the back pain is getting progressively worse. I'm super stiff in my back (even though I stretch regularly), especially in the mornings, and when the alarm goes off I usually wake up already in some kind of pain. There's times when it's better and times it's worse and it seemingly has little to do with the amount of training I do. My new thing in addition to the lower back pain is a very painful, stiff neck (had that for about a month now) and a stiff, painful hip. Had an MRI for the hip too and the joint seems fine, nothing unusual, but they said it could be an inflamed iliopsoas tendon (enthesiopathy?). Which is supposed to happen to like really active sporty people which I'm not lol.
My doc keeps telling me there's no miracle cure but tbh I'm more looking for a miracle diagnosis ugh. I just want a solid answer for my chronic pain and why it keeps coming back, even though I'm doing the things I'm told, and also why the fuck I seem to have the body of a 90-year-old when I'm in my mid 20ies. So now I've looked up all sorts of things and thought about fibromyalgia or some sort of rheumatic disorder. Haven't yet had the courage to bring it up with my doc haha.
Man I said I'd try and keep it short, well that didn't work. And I'm sorry if I'm in the totally wrong subreddit. I'm not trying to intrude or anything, I guess I just want to talk to people who get having chronic pain. Has anyone had a similar story and got a diagnosis? Or do you have different symptoms and I'm on the totally wrong path here?
Thank you if you've read through all of this, I appreciate it :')

“Hungry again?”
“Huh?” I muted my cell phone, because I’m that guy who holds up the line at Chipotle while talking on my cell phone.
The squeaky-voiced teen smiled awkwardly and scratched his arm. “Um. Well, how – how can I help you?”
“Hang on,” I spoke into my phone before remembering that it was muted, unmuted it, and then hung up. “I’ll have a bowl with steak and queso.”
“And double guac?”
I froze, an unsettling chill running down my spine. “How the hell did you know that?”
He eyed me wearily. “That will be $19.13. Um, our card reader doesn’t work, but the ATM does.”
I withdrew my hand from my pocket, no longer caring how many other pissed off people were in line behind me. “How did you know everything I was about to say?” I demanded.
His eyes bulged. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s time for my break.”
*
“If I knew how my car had been stolen, why would I need to involve the police?” I demanded, hoping the officer realized that I was losing my patience.
“Sir,” he shot back, giving me attitude, “I’m just asking where you left your keys. It’s a pretty standard question in this situation.”
I jammed my hands into my pocket. “The same place I always leave them, Officer Dum…” my voice trailed off as I realized that my keys were gone.
He closed his notebook and folded his arms. “Maybe one of your friends borrowed the car. Is there any chance that someone knows more than they’re telling you?”
*
“Yes, the day just got better, Myrtle!” My hand was shaking as I held the phone close to my mouth. “You always give me shit about playing the lottery, and BOOM – five thousand bucks! I’m heading into the Chevron station to cash it in right now!”
Hanging up before my girlfriend could respond, I stared at the irritated cashier who had been waiting for me to finish my phone call.
“Can I help you?”
“You can help me five thousand times over!” I announced, reaching for my wallet.
Then my stomach dropped. “Um – I put the ticket in my wallet… I got four out of six numbers, it was pretty fucking… did I leave it in the car?”
“Sir,” he responded, annoyed, “trying to cash out a second time, for this dollar amount, is a felony. Please leave the premises or I’ll involve the police.”
*
Anxiety had turned to raw fear by the time I walked back to the apartment I share with Myrtle. Had I lost my mind? The entire world seemed to know what I was thinking, and was determined to use that to fuck me over.
I stopped at the front entrance to the Monterey Lanai apartments and stared at the blue-green Corolla parked in front.
My blue-green Corolla.
I ran upstairs without breathing. “MYRTLE!” I screamed as I burst in the unlocked door. Head spinning, I ran into the bedroom, terrified that I would find her dead body on our bed.
She was smiling at me from beneath sheets pulled up to her neck, her auburn hair frizzy and disheveled. “Someone’s excited,” she grinned. “Where’s all this energy coming from? It’s been months since we’ve had afternoon sex, and you look ready for round two!”
*
I ran outside to cry. I can be an asshole sometimes, and Myrtle defines the notion of “better half.” But how could she comfort me now? Either the rest of the world had collectively lost their minds, or I had. Either way, she was on the other side of ‘crazy’ from where I stood.
“Sorry about your car.”
I looked up to see my black sweater covering a man in my frayed jeans over my running shoes as he smoked my Camels. He had my haircut. He had my face.
I didn’t understand the notion of fear until that moment. Before then, I had only ever been ‘scared.’
“A few people noticed the difference,” he continued without looking at me as he blew out a long stream of smoke. “Subtle shit, like the way I stood, or the fact that you’re a bigger dick than I thought.” He finally turned my way. Locking his ice-blue eyes with mine was like staring into a fucked-up mirror. “Your doctor assumed we were twins. Minh, your boss, thought the same thing.” He folded his arms and flashed a smile that dripped with malice. “Myrtle, though – she didn’t notice a thing.” He laughed. “And believe me, I gave her multiple opportunities to notice.”
I was on my feet before realizing my own intent to attack. To be honest, I had no specific plan, but would probably have cracked his skull if it weren’t for the gun.
“Ah-ah-ah!” he warned, stepping back and pulling a Glock from his waistband.
My Glock. The one I keep tucked behind the headboard of the bed I share with Myrtle.
“Science really has come a long way. Hasn’t it, Gary?” He stepped closer, the barrel still aimed at my chest. “Tell me – given how far A. I. has come, do you really think that the world’s governments haven’t experimented with our DNA?” He flashed my own smile back to me. “Technically, that would make us twins. But… I don’t know, I just don’t feel that fraternal connection. Do you, Gary? No, you don’t – and I would know. ‘Twins’ is the wrong word. I much prefer ‘doppelganger.’” He licked his lips.
I fought back tears and vomit. “So… you have my DNA? All of it?”
He shrugged and smiled.
“Including my congenital patella dislocation?”
I’d maintained enough eye contact so that he didn’t see my fast, low kick, but he sure as shit felt it. I opted run without reaching for the gun; I knew the pain in his knee would distract him for hours, and I didn’t want to get close to an erratic trigger finger.
I didn’t get in the Corolla, because I don’t have the keys. I didn’t buy a bus ticket, because I don’t have my wallet. And I didn’t call the cops. Think about it: he would claim that we were twins, he has my keys and wallet, and the officer on duty in our small town would be able to distinguish between the two of us by my clothes.
I, of course, would be the one who’d pissed him off earlier in the day.
My doppelganger has been ten steps ahead of me the whole time. I’ve run into the forest behind my apartment and am trying to figure out what the hell to do next. With no wallet or keys, my phone should have been enough.
Except that all of my contacts have blocked my number.
I have no friends other than strangers on the internet. I'm in hiding, but don't know how long I'll be safe.
See, I thought I was well hidden.
But I just checked behind a nearby tree.
Someone left freshly smoked Camel cigarettes within eyesight of where I’m hiding.
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“Hungry again?”
“Huh?” I muted my cell phone, because I’m that guy who holds up the line at Chipotle while talking on my cell phone.
The squeaky-voiced teen smiled awkwardly and scratched his arm. “Um. Well, how – how can I help you?”
“Hang on,” I spoke into my phone before remembering that it was muted, unmuted it, and then hung up. “I’ll have a bowl with steak and queso.”
“And double guac?”
I froze, an unsettling chill running down my spine. “How the hell did you know that?”
He eyed me wearily. “That will be $19.13. Um, our card reader doesn’t work, but the ATM does.”
I withdrew my hand from my pocket, no longer caring how many other pissed off people were in line behind me. “How did you know everything I was about to say?” I demanded.
His eyes bulged. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s time for my break.”
*
“If I knew how my car had been stolen, why would I need to involve the police?” I demanded, hoping the officer realized that I was losing my patience.
“Sir,” he shot back, giving me attitude, “I’m just asking where you left your keys. It’s a pretty standard question in this situation.”
I jammed my hands into my pocket. “The same place I always leave them, Officer Dum…” my voice trailed off as I realized that my keys were gone.
He closed his notebook and folded his arms. “Maybe one of your friends borrowed the car. Is there any chance that someone knows more than they’re telling you?”
*
“Yes, the day just got better, Myrtle!” My hand was shaking as I held the phone close to my mouth. “You always give me shit about playing the lottery, and BOOM – five thousand bucks! I’m heading into the Chevron station to cash it in right now!”
Hanging up before my girlfriend could respond, I stared at the irritated cashier who had been waiting for me to finish my phone call.
“Can I help you?”
“You can help me five thousand times over!” I announced, reaching for my wallet.
Then my stomach dropped. “Um – I put the ticket in my wallet… I got four out of six numbers, it was pretty fucking… did I leave it in the car?”
“Sir,” he responded, annoyed, “trying to cash out a second time, for this dollar amount, is a felony. Please leave the premises or I’ll involve the police.”
*
Anxiety had turned to raw fear by the time I walked back to the apartment I share with Myrtle. Had I lost my mind? The entire world seemed to know what I was thinking, and was determined to use that to fuck me over.
I stopped at the front entrance to the Monterey Lanai apartments and stared at the blue-green Corolla parked in front.
My blue-green Corolla.
I ran upstairs without breathing. “MYRTLE!” I screamed as I burst in the unlocked door. Head spinning, I ran into the bedroom, terrified that I would find her dead body on our bed.
She was smiling at me from beneath sheets pulled up to her neck, her auburn hair frizzy and disheveled. “Someone’s excited,” she grinned. “Where’s all this energy coming from? It’s been months since we’ve had afternoon sex, and you look ready for round two!”
*
I ran outside to cry. I can be an asshole sometimes, and Myrtle defines the notion of “better half.” But how could she comfort me now? Either the rest of the world had collectively lost their minds, or I had. Either way, she was on the other side of ‘crazy’ from where I stood.
“Sorry about your car.”
I looked up to see my black sweater covering a man in my frayed jeans over my running shoes as he smoked my Camels. He had my haircut. He had my face.
I didn’t understand the notion of fear until that moment. Before then, I had only ever been ‘scared.’
“A few people noticed the difference,” he continued without looking at me as he blew out a long stream of smoke. “Subtle shit, like the way I stood, or the fact that you’re a bigger dick than I thought.” He finally turned my way. Locking his ice-blue eyes with mine was like staring into a fucked-up mirror. “Your doctor assumed we were twins. Minh, your boss, thought the same thing.” He folded his arms and flashed a smile that dripped with malice. “Myrtle, though – she didn’t notice a thing.” He laughed. “And believe me, I gave her multiple opportunities to notice.”
I was on my feet before realizing my own intent to attack. To be honest, I had no specific plan, but would probably have cracked his skull if it weren’t for the gun.
“Ah-ah-ah!” he warned, stepping back and pulling a Glock from his waistband.
My Glock. The one I keep tucked behind the headboard of the bed I share with Myrtle.
“Science really has come a long way. Hasn’t it, Gary?” He stepped closer, the barrel still aimed at my chest. “Tell me – given how far A. I. has come, do you really think that the world’s governments haven’t experimented with our DNA?” He flashed my own smile back to me. “Technically, that would make us twins. But… I don’t know, I just don’t feel that fraternal connection. Do you, Gary? No, you don’t – and I would know. ‘Twins’ is the wrong word. I much prefer ‘doppelganger.’” He licked his lips.
I fought back tears and vomit. “So… you have my DNA? All of it?”
He shrugged and smiled.
“Including my congenital patella dislocation?”
I’d maintained enough eye contact so that he didn’t see my fast, low kick, but he sure as shit felt it. I opted run without reaching for the gun; I knew the pain in his knee would distract him for hours, and I didn’t want to get close to an erratic trigger finger.
I didn’t get in the Corolla, because I don’t have the keys. I didn’t buy a bus ticket, because I don’t have my wallet. And I didn’t call the cops. Think about it: he would claim that we were twins, he has my keys and wallet, and the officer on duty in our small town would be able to distinguish between the two of us by my clothes.
I, of course, would be the one who’d pissed him off earlier in the day.
My doppelganger has been ten steps ahead of me the whole time. I’ve run into the forest behind my apartment and am trying to figure out what the hell to do next. With no wallet or keys, my phone should have been enough.
Except that all of my contacts have blocked my number.
I have no friends other than strangers on the internet. I'm in hiding, but don't know how long I'll be safe.
See, I thought I was well hidden.
But I just checked behind a nearby tree.
Someone left freshly smoked Camel cigarettes within eyesight of where I’m hiding.
If I’m alive, I’ll write more later.