Tag: Humiliation

Chronicle 097 ~Braxton Promises To Pray~

WillLeave a comment

With my paws, I promise to walk beside you. To stand against any and all who come against us. To let you know where I am. But don’t touch them. I hate when God or his servants attempt to force my hand too. But the Day Job? “Braxton Promises To Pray.”

Wednesday, October 6, 2021

Chronicle 097 ~Braxton Promises To Pray~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but that’s not enough to see one’s true paradise, the right person, or my puppy now.

Yet on this Sunday, writing about Wednesday, as I play prophet. The humiliations, Inspector Echo, are getting worse. A revelation I’ve had of late sigh. When I was constantly worrying about Braxton, as long as he was okay… Well, life was Hell, so I believed. Inspector, these days, whenever I pray for strength, guidance, will. I always direct those whispers towards Braxton. Except for the Day Job. I continue to pop my wrists with a rubber band when I allow fear to guide my steps. Surprised my hands remain, Inspector. With all the work I’ve been doing today. Is that what I call it, talking to the Man in the Mirror. I was talking about a wedding band. Then my time out of the shower.

“Stuff And Thangs?” What I wouldn’t give to see a few $100’s, some $1,000’s appear in my wallet. B III wouldn’t understand money but anything that stopped me from leaving. I’m far less ashamed of being naked than whatever I’ve been doing this week. Hell, this Wednesday cannot be worse than the “Wednesday.” I remember B crying. As for me? You know I have never liked the terms owner, master, and the like. Someone wrote that dogs think they’re people; cats believe they are gods. Or even dogs think people are gods. Braxton never asked me to save him, only to hold him and bring him home. I couldn’t even do that. At least not in the way he wanted anymore. I wonder what B believed in. In me alone?

Braxton was blessed with paws, not hands, and he didn’t appreciate me touching them. Braxton is supposed to be beside me at times like these. These hands for petting Braxton. Inspector, I am ashamed I can’t do that anymore. Doesn’t that make today seem better? How I like to think Braxton was/is optimistic. At least he was/is good at pretending. Daddy needs only to return, and regardless of what happened, he would make it better. Echo, I gave him a treat before I left as I can’t stand lies, even for the love of Braxton. I still pray for him whenever I go. Does he watch over me? Even when I was no longer a monk. Doing whatever Day Job wise. Braxton Promises To Pray

248 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 091 ~To Be Patient B~

WillLeave a comment

Be patient, and I will find a cure, acceptance, salvation, forgetfulness, whatever. Yep, ASM, I still say whatever. I’m a sick puppy, or I had a sick puppy 242 Days ago. And now I’m insane in the membrane, as we said once? To Be Patient B.

Thursday, September 30, 2021

Chronicle 091 ~To Be Patient B~

242 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Mine is only beginning, and I’m already sick of it. Give me five more minutes.

Patient Daddy, but I’d be lying if I said I was sick like that. You saw me through the first year of COVID; I haven’t lost anyone because of it. I lost you this year, fucking insane. I’m glad you can’t repeat the things I say. Ain’t that a question. Can dogs talk in Heaven? Will I ever get to see you, B III? Hell, I’m making a mess over one of your would-be moms. Tell Millie “Sup” if you get a chance. I’m sure the last thing you want to do is spend all day in bed like your Old Man. I’m sick of feeling this way. I’m not talking about missing you; I mean being lazy. I got a good seven hours and still went back to sleep.

Patient B, that’s something I would never call you. If I brought fries home, you would be a real pain in the ass. No wonder I’m trying to exorcise you. Told you I’m sick, Braxton. While I was busy not telling you that B III, let’s see. Um, I did icky things I wouldn’t let you see. I got my affairs in order, but I’m not dead yet. Then comes the food I can’t share, B. I told you before about choosing Onion Rings vs. Fries, hmm? How about Chocolate vs. Sour Gummies? Here I worried about those things killing you, but it was hatred. Hatred is a sickness, but is patience a real virtue?

Patience in wanting to join you? I haven’t seen your grandpa in a minute; the Day Job only brings me more hate. I hate myself, sorry? B, now you weren’t a cure but a medication. Sometimes you could be distracting, but considering the work, I got done with you around. Hell, my last novel is most of these letters and the one before… Zombified daddy. The more I sleep, the less I think about a more permanent solution. Considering the books get busy living and B, you know the rest. You had so much more living to do, my friend. I failed you in that. Is love the cure for hate? More like warring with myself, and what have I created? Your book, for love, NaNoWriMo? To Be Patient B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 090 ~2B Or Not To~

WillLeave a comment

A great man once wrote, to be or not to be. I’m nowhere near, not even good, and who would ever think I’m alright? Carolina Bound or M Anime? I do worry what B III thinks of me, wherever he is now. 2B Or Not To

Wednesday, September 29, 2021

Chronicle 090 ~2B Or Not To~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. That’s like saying Braxton is alive. I own a brothel, and I’m married to NieR’s 2B.

Carla Valenti

We’ll get into that soon enough. Forgive me, Inspector Echo, for I have sinned. If I hadn’t given you Carla Valenti’s form from Indigo Prophecy, you would be a nun. I had a thing for holy women once “ahem” do (M Anime). Anyway, I should try to regain my holiness. But I have the spirit of fear when it comes to tagging up the shoes at my fucking Day Job. I refuse to speak my mind there. Anytime I find myself lying, that’s only Acceptance. Yesterday the Stupidity I showed was libel to get someone hurt, and I was corrected. Inspector, I find myself breaking Rule 002 You Are Not A Caveman. What’s Rule 001? Dammit, these may not seem like violations but killing Braxton…

If anything, that is the one crime I know I will never surpass. As always, Braxton remains the constant. So what took me so long getting back to you, considering it is now 9:40 AM? Routine, Tradition, the Usual, another day? I would have gotten up because of B III. Braxton would take his medication first because the meds made him into a fire hydrant. Then we would walk. Depending on my laziness, we would eat breakfast, Braxton and me. Today, there was his water and his treat in Remembrance. I fixed a Pop-Tart and a cappuccino. Oh yeah, then I had to get all sorts of crazy ideas for “Stuff And Thangs.” Of course, you know how that goes. I wouldn’t have dared before.

When I’m not Braxton’s Daddy, who am I? The people at Petsmart have stopped offering. I pet fur babies, but I can’t bring one home. To be a Dad again because I’m no model, ha. I don’t want to be, Inspector, you know. I woke up at 4:00 AM and shut my eyes. It hurts. Dangerous thoughts, but then there are moments. There are always several for B, my son. There are productive times. Not that I’m counting today sitting in bed or kitchen nakedness. I’ve been saying it, sitting in the Den with the door closed, believing Braxton’s back? Inspector, he wouldn’t be happy with me, slacking off reading. None of it’s Shakespeare but better than Playboy. Awake and Alive? 2B Or Not To

241 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 084 ~Reasons To Fry B~

WillLeave a comment

I have a vegan/vegetarian friend here or there. B III’s Aunt calls me a true Carnivore; this isn’t that type of conversation. As I stuffed my face yesterday with fries, and will do so again. I remember why there are more than usual. Reasons To Fry B.

Thursday, September 23, 2021

Chronicle 084 ~Reasons To Fry B~

235 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day is only starting, and it’s not because some chick is good mommy material.

I’m sorry, Braxton. We are boys, but I tried to keep that kind of talk away from you. I remember you and your Aunt and how you and I had “The Talk.” Be good, Daddy. Braxton, I don’t think I was. It’s obvious why you’re not here. I’ll never forget why you aren’t ok. So as the Terminator said, “I killed you.” And I didn’t put you, my son, first. Hell, if I was ever up this early, and I wasn’t going into the Day Job, you’d be up like the sun. I noticed that as I was making the bed. Second straight day and I decided to, B III. Usually, I would let you sleep longer B while I went to take a shower.

Is the water hot enough, or am I dreaming up new reasons I’m getting into Hell? As I said, it wasn’t a woman that got me up. I made an accidental discovery yesterday, so fuck. Well, at least it’s only me. And not some indigenous people, the day job (fuck that, BTW), or women. Well, in the instance of reading The Handmaid’s Tale, again trying. Braxton, I finished reading a good portion last night instead of talking to you. We’ll have to continue this conversation later this afternoon. Of course, I’ll bring fries home, Braxton. Did you see I’m saying your name more? I still say it every day with medicine in hand, saying goodbye, and walking in. Whenever I slip up, oh, the pain.

Take yesterday’s first humiliation as an example. I was walking up to the Day Job, and I literally almost slipped and fell, rain and all. Bark at Earnest Hemmingway, Braxton. What right do I have to ask you to do anything for me? Would you stand up to God if I had fallen and broken my neck? You could be saving me a nice warm spot by the fire, ha. Oh yeah, my Treachery, which of course, is a Ninth Circle trespass. Whether it’s something like buying onion rings B III. How about petting a warm doggie at the store? Being with you like this, but I want to be back beneath the covers sleeping. Explains some of my dreams. My Reasons To Fry B.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 182 ~Humiliation’s A Number Will~

WillLeave a comment

One day I swear I’m going to sit in a room and type all day, pocket my cash, and send an army of mercs to silence anybody sending me spam… well, that got dark pretty quickly. “Humiliation’s A Number Will,” and next year I want it to be zero

Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Gospel 182 ~Humiliation’s A Number Will~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so um, I still hate Math? Considering I’ve taken no sick days or vacation days. There’s the concept of dinner around here, becoming a big event. I have a yearly eye exam, which is the extent of my medical care. Yep, I still hate my teeth. Okay, say it with me, “This Is America,” how about I am a “Real American.” You’ll have to excuse me, Inspector Echo. The Stimulus Talk and my usual complaints, numbers have been on my brain. With enough cash, humiliation doesn’t matter, enough not to count.

Let’s start with me and My Dæmon. I’m 36, goddammit, my son’s 15. Now I’m trying to stay clean, Inspector Echo when I talk to you, but I’ll put the question out there. When’s the last time I’ve had sex? Meanwhile is the Dæmon living the life, meds, food, yes… However, he could have more, but where’s the money going? Let’s say I’m “supporting” three artists. Depends on how you define art. I can’t tell you how much I’ve spent on the random “expressions.” Or how about the money that went towards “Capital A” SIGH. Well, make more money, you say; how long have I been at the Day Job? Nine years, Inspector, taking orders. And each and every day there, I’m either depressed, destructive or damned. What about all the money I paid to not publish a book now?

I mentioned Capital A, but how many women have stopped talking to me this year alone? I’m going to say three, but even that’s a shot in the dark. Better to keep my mouth shut, but tomorrow, of course, is The Closing of the Year. Pop Culture is much served. While fighting off my addictions. You know within Six Impossible Things, “5 Days” so far. Doing everything to keep my mind occupied, and you see how that’s going. Remember, I had to wipe my phone of such and such, still leaving six thousand pictures altogether. Again I think about writing three NaNoWriMos between two camps and November. Four hundred words daily for the year is around 146,000 or nearly three NaNoWriMos. Not one dollar earned doing what I love still.

Before I forget, two Pinterest accounts are gone. Another “explicit” account wrecked. More sugar daddy/momma accounts blocked between Whisper and Goodreads. Big numbers Inspector Echo still Humiliation’s A Number Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Gospel 080 ~Willie Gone Diddilly On~

WillLeave a comment

She’s out of my life, it’s out of my life, and I’m no good with goodbyes, but neither is anyone else sadly. All I know are magicians, manifestations, and mistakes. Is it any wonder I’m into whips, chains, ropes, and fabric. “Willie Gone Diddilly On.”

Saturday, September 19, 2020

Gospel 080 ~Willie Gone Diddilly On~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. This means besides Target and 5-hour ENERGY, add Pinterest to my sickness and rage. Now don’t sound I “presidential” going to war with some company. So like Trump with Tik Tok. Today, I’ll be pretty selfish.

Sure, I could talk about the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, may she rest in peace. There’s also how angry I’m being to with Dæmon since he growled at me yesterday. Hell, I’m still a little perturbed by how rude I was to that internet salesman last Friday at Walmart. At the Day Job, one of the managers told me I can’t go around ignoring people. Today and every other, I’m supposed to be a father. I can’t stay in a rage forever, which is one more reason I’m always exhausted. That and fear, finding out my Pinterest was suspended.

A second time Lady Lu, and there won’t be a third. All of that “work” and like finding out about some girl in the middle of the night. She’s gone. It’s gone, and I’m going to be sick. I don’t know how to speak the feeling. It’s like I’m slamming into the ground, trying to bury myself or find a staircase right into Hell. I need some sleep, but at the same time, I can’t close my eyes. My stomach is empty, and at the same time, I want to puke my guts out. The only way I’ll find them.

I keep going back to the words from my big “sister” as always. “You can’t build a strip club next to a school.” I didn’t do something so heinous, and at the same time, I declare guilt, my many sins. I did finishing reading that W. Anton book yesterday, so shouldn’t I be a man about this? If anything, I should shut-up talking to you and the girls about, well anything. I could lose this blog tomorrow, lose another profile whenever. I haven’t felt this bad since… MILF Dos, the Rainbow Girl, All The Jazz, my last Pinterest, was taken.

How I need to remember how I got over that one. Didn’t I tell you before my aunt said I wanted to destroy the world? I’m not looking to gain the world but to buy back my soul. My soul was before me, then poof. Pictures worth thousands of words all Willie Gone Diddilly On.

I Will Have No Fear

Gospel 073 ~It’s For The Wills~

WillLeave a comment

The end of the week and nothing has changed. So why don’t I go out there and do something? I’ve asked before what am I waking up for, and while I love my Dæmon like pancakes, Yabbos, and um… line, oh yeah, writing. “It’s For The Wills”

Saturday, September 12, 2020

Gospel 073 ~It’s For The Wills~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but what’s it all for? Fear, humiliation, the regrets that come later? It’s not for the cash because I would be published by now. Now Lady Lu, don’t give me that, you don’t write for the money. I have written plenty of stories I know won’t make a dime. My motivations say time and again to find out what you want. Now I know what I don’t want, and given the Law of Attraction, I won’t give them a voice. Still, what have I been doing today? Fixing my profile, a picture, and there’s Yabbos too.

How I deem myself a SADIST, but I’m more a masochist. “I’m just a sucker for pain,” as the song goes. Now I could be having a bout of depression on account of NO FAP, eight days. Yet here I am saying give me more. Am I a better man this week for anything, hm? It’s like finishing NaNoWriMo, I’m waiting for I don’t know what. The money to fall into my lap and dammit, I wish I could stop thinking about sex right now. That’s the thing with an addict; the first week is always the hardest. Oh, pardon my words, my dear Lu. It could be that I was trying to take my mind off “Existence Day.” Yeah, by offering MILF Dos $500 or Cherry €250. No, Bella Thorne, I’d pay for some BBW in the UK. Hell, the closest I’ve gotten to a present is Adam & Eve Bangin’ Betty Stroker Kit.

So pain, addiction, being broke, any more bad emotions I need to exorcise? The fact that I might get verified? How’s that for regret? Well, now I have a place for my language. On the other side, do I need people knowing all my secrets, and these are the worst. Humiliation at the Day Job… I still have some time off, and again am I doing anything to avoid such a fate? If anything Lady Luna, I’m trying to live, and that’s what I’m looking for. A reason to stay alive because I don’t feel it. Writing is life, but once this is all over. Yeah, there it is, the fear of what comes next, shopping, wasting the rest of the day. There are no thrills here, only the horror.

The horror, the horror. As always, It’s For The Wills

I Will Have No Fear

Log 359 ~Willing The Limbo Game~

WillLeave a comment

I don’t play party games, and I’m not much of a dancer, but I’m not crying about Indiana Gone. Well, she did have to deal with some racist jerk. Anyway, how about my game of life tonight? Willing The Limbo Game

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Log 359 ~Willing The Limbo Game~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, as I sink to the lowest denominator when it comes to people. Hell Inspector Echo, Sex gets a worse rap than violence. I could go either or and as always go down even lower. How about being sad, with general disappointment?

Well, let’s start with my favorite subject, can you guess? Sex, my dear Inspector, and did I say I broke NO FAP earlier this week. Yeah, sometime this afternoon even, so tomorrow is going to be lovely? Geez, Inspector Echo, I can’t survive two days now. As THEY say, like people in Hell want ice water. Isn’t that where I’ve been when we start talking about the Day Job. Am I using that as an excuse? I was all “discombobulated” last week and then… people. It’s one thing to think of MILF Dos as an angel, a queen, or a goddess. How I already feel like a slug for doing something, I still don’t know what I did wrong. At least Sex brings me to life. Everyone at the Day Job makes me want to die. So yeah, I go back to bed and wank off to Tifa Lockhart and Aerith Gainsborough; wait until tomorrow.

Speaking of going lower, what’s that “old” meme AHEM, “What Are Those?” I’ve never worried about designer shoes, but to quote a famous Will, “And what the Hell is that smell?” Those would be my boots, Inspector Echo. It’s not like my money situation has my pants falling down. Yes, I know, I still have money to worry about “Yabbos.” How many times have I mentioned Hell tonight? If I were to die, it would be me looking at Yabbos and never touching them for all eternity, always another pair.

Now I’m not planning on dying unfortunately for myself and others. Still, there are some people I hate with everything within me. Only I have their blood in my veins, or I still need a paycheck no matter how small. What about My Dæmon, who I love like pancakes? I’m not the father that I should be ever Inspector Echo. The only good reason I look down is all him. Otherwise, it’s my penis, the putrid smell of my boots, or that person in the mirror I can’t stand seeing.

My apologies Inspector Echo, for my weakness and wastefulness; I’m not Willing The Limbo Game.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 352 ~She Never Existed, Willie~

WillLeave a comment

My Olds gave me more time than I deserved before they kicked me out. My son was blessed with my good patience. Women though, talk about twenty seconds, I always find out the ending has come late at night ha. “She Never Existed, Willie”

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Log 352 ~She Never Existed, Willie~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which is only one more thing I want to breathe into existence. MILF Dos never existed, and today or yesterday (Time-Travel, remember). So too, our FINAL connection. Now that’s a lie. While I’m all about revealing my secrets, I do keep some and hers as well. Inspector, I’m not a bad man. Hell Inspector Echo, I never mean to be ever. Still the fact that I’m sitting here whining; that this whole week will be about, I don’t know. Why don’t I humiliate myself a lot more and try to help her if she needs it?

There hasn’t been a day yet, where I have written her off entirely. I’m like a puppy with a bone, well a boner, but I’m still on NO FAP. As for her, though, I would never erase or delete what I have, but she’s no longer on my phone… close enough. I’ve been talking about “The Nine” all this week, right. Here’s a story idea that’s more in Lady Sophia’s realm, Ghost Brothel… only a thought, Inspector Echo. Speaking of having any semblance of those, MILF Dos is still hard to talk about, so why continue? I’ve been sitting here procrastinating with all manner of things. As always, I’ve never been a typical porn guy, I need an emotional aspect. It’s one of the reasons I FEEL for Whitney Wright in PROM NIGHT. The fact that it’s been so hard to read Too Late By Colleen Hoover at all Inspector.

Yeah, freak her out more but mentioning the L word. Yes, I lusted after MILF Dos, but it was more than seeing her. She was my friend Inspector Echo, and Now you’re just somebody that I used to know. Only that’s the part that hurts the most. There was not even goodbye. Of the NINE, I’m seeing a score of four and four. Four of them blocked me, and four either disappeared, or I don’t talk to. The Harmonic War looked me up on Instagram but has been pretty silent. If MILF Dos had asked me to stop, would I have… YES. So why am I debating whether or not to try one last time? Goodbye is one of the best words. I understand why men pay women, but what is MILF Dos to me right now, friend, memory, hard-on?

Two words, one, zero, now three, “SHE NEVER EXISTED, Willie?”

I Will Have No Fear

Log 345 ~Willing Big Boy Pants~

WillLeave a comment

The problem with pants, besides not being able to keep them on, or keep money in them, how much I hate McDonald’s right now and let’s not even talk about the Day Job… Willing Big Boy Pants; to stand up as a man

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Log 345 ~Willing Big Boy Pants~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but that doesn’t mean you’ll catch me in a tux. Hell, how many people have seen me naked? Still, Inspector Echo, my mouth is more a problem than one more “Head.” How about Dua Lipa singing, “I can’t teach a man how to wear his pants.”

So I sit here this morning with no pants but soon. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Back when I was in school, I was only trying to keep them on. I got pantsed more than a few times. Even when I had a belt that didn’t stop people from attaching, panties to my jeans. Hell to think nowadays, I don’t mind showing off my body and am actively trying to get women to take their clothes off. We’ll get to that, don’t you worry. The fact remains at this moment that the last thing that I want to do is put on pants. I credit Rocko’s Modern Life with teaching me how to adult. Did Rocko, ever wear pants? Well, at least I’m not looking at porn and to answer the question, yes. I have to wear pants to feed the Pup, to keep an inch of tenuous Power. I “Profit” and to work on my real Purpose in life.

Now I say PROFIT, Mr. Has His Shoes In The Freezer So They Won’t Smell. Yeah, I’m too cheap to buy new ones. You remember how people would talk about boys sagging pants? Again I know how to use a belt but not how to keep a few bucks in my pocket. So what did I spend money on this week? Yes, we’ll talk about it, but let’s say I hate having things in common with this President. I won’t buy necessities, but I always find room in the budget for something or someone beautiful.

Why bother wearing pants when I don’t have any balls? “But real gangsta-ass (people) don’t flex nuts” as the song goes. It’s so not the time I know, in a variety of ways. Didn’t stop me yesterday, though, so here we go. Here I am putting money down, and for what? Boobs, Butts, Bare Naked as always but would settle for at least a conversation. I’m sorry, Inspector Echo, for the belt that’s coming soon. The lost bucks and boob obsession. Willing Big Boy Pants.

I Will Have No Fear