***This is fiction*** (or a plan for a brutal future if needed) We all have plans and dreams for the future. A future bright with the possibility of success. However, what if that future or any other future for that matter were to disappear? What if those possibilities were replaced with certain death? Not a peaceful or glorious death, but an ignoble wasted death preceded by life as a lab-rat for the doctors? I am now in this situation. The prognosis from 3 different oncologist is the same; 5-8 months tops. A full year if they combine full-head radiotherapy, massive chemotherapy, and attempt to surgically remove the majority of the mass from my brain. The surgery alone has a high motality rate and will likely leave me in a vegetative state. I say FUCK THAT! I have lived well and I intend to die well. I intend to go out doing things I always wanted to do but was too invested in life to pursue. My extended family will be fine, my accounts and Trust is in order. Everyone else can go hang... Here is what I want for myself: I want to disassemble myself before the inoperable (glioblastoma multiforma) cancer does it for me. I want to descend into the dark, dungeons of a large city, and never reappear. I want to only see sunlight through windows too small to climb through or too high to reach. -not that I would. I want to become a Legendary, Twisted, SlamPig-bottom that will be remembered for the extremes I went to. I want to engage in activities that while fun, pleasurable, painful, tortuous and degrading, willl ultimately lead to my death... if death were not already assured. I want to become a permanent fixture in the dungeons of the most demented, perverted, and violent of Tops. I want to submit utterly and permanently To lose my name and identity To lose my self To lose all sense of time and not care because it truly won't matter. There is no time in the dark To be just a curiosity in the corner, a breathing piece of fuck-furniture to be passed around and used continually until useless. To be maintained, cleaned, and fed/watered enough to ensure my body temperature stays warm enough to fuck.
To be so brutally fucked, fisted, stretched and modified, that I cannot remember a time that a cock was not inside me.
To feel that 'emptiness" is an unnatural state. To gratefully accept all acts against me because it no longer matters. To be worn away thinner and thinner, until ultimately no longer wanted in the dungeon. They have standards after all. To finally be wrapped in a blanket or tarp, told "thank you", patted on the head, driven to a city in another state, and left somewhere to be found and made some hospice's problem for miniscule time that remains. I doubt I would even warm the sheets. I choose this because it is a choice I can still make. And because it will be fucking fun. And because how I live and how I die is ultimately my decision (if only my last one). All I ask for is Everything. Everything I have read about in the most perverse of blogs and stories, everything I have watched in the most illicit of videos, everything I was promised by various twisted people who asked me to come away with them in their van when I was a teen. EVERYTHING. There are acts and activities that have never been performed because there wasn't a pig depraved or uncaring enough to undergo them. With a little time, care, and destruction, I can be that pig.
Wamest Regards,
~B.M~
