As soon as I get home I turn on my computer and weed vaporizer and then devour two big macs, fries and nuggets in less than 4 minutes. It’s 2:39 in the morning and I feel nauseous and dizzy. I go to my computer and check craigslist to see if Suzie’s ad is still there and it is and I feel sad thinking about her having fun and squirting all over some other creep that she’s picked up on some dark perverted, fringe of the web.
Once my vaporizer is warmed up to 371 degrees I use it to inflate a big balloons worth of pot vapor then take huge pulls off it while cruising pornhub for videos of girls farting or pissing in spandex, sharting, shitting in panties or generally wearing dirty panties and I end up finding and downloading about 50 or so clips. Pornhub ends up taking a lot longer than I want and by the time I look at the clock again it’s almost 4 in the morning and I’ve vaped another 3 balloons worth of pot vapor on autopilot.
I jerk off to porn of a blonde MILF who slightly resembles Suzie, this one also squirts but her name is Brianna and she rubs her pussy in the video and fucks herself with a purple, conical shaped dildo while having a pink butt plug up her ass. She stands right over the camera when she squirts and it drips down onto and all over the lens and as I cum I start to strangle myself with my left hand and imagine drowning to death and only when my eyes start to roll up and I almost pass out do I take another breath.

part 1

the table is wooden and wet, smells damp, i sit down with steve and say, “chad, buddy, can i help you out with some of these lines?”
he doesn’t look at me when he responds, “its ketamine, overcooked, cut with molly, coke and fentanyl. i made it all myself, sept for the coke and fentanyl.” he pushes the aol free trial cd case towards me, “wanna go first?”
“uhm, you go first.” just in case it’s poison and he dies.
“that’s a nice thought.”
“fuck you, stay out of my mind. and at least i’m being honest with you, which is actually more rare than me caring if you die or not, so yea, you’re right, it is a nice thought.”
stan doesn’t seem to give a shit and blasts down two lines before i even finish talking and i watch him carefully for any signs of overdose. he grunts a couple times, low and guttural, then exhales deep. his eyes roll up, neck muscles give out and his head falls from side to side like a infant as his eyes completely vanish into thin air. his head falls back, almost snaps completely off, and my gut instinct is that he’s dead. i put my finger under his nose to see if i can feel for air, which i do, faintly. steve is wearing a black t shirt, so old and worn that it almost looks grey. i pick up his t shirt, exposing defined abs and chest. my dick starts getting hard. his chest rises and falls with air. i put his shirt down and gently flick him in the dick with my finger. he reacts only slightly and makes a jumble of animal noises.
he seems to be alive. “wellp, good enough for me”.
white hot heat of drug excitement hits my body and i start to sweat profusely so i take off my shirt and throw it away.
human moans fill the dungeon along with sounds of slurping, popping, slapping. it smells like shit, ass, burning plastic, rotten potato stench of dried semen, dirty yeast infected pussy. the lights, almost non-existent, flicker and buzz.
“lets fucking do this,” i say to everyone, no one then take the rolled up dollar bill still clutched in chad’s clammy cold hand, re-roll it tight, and watch a girl across the room, chubby, white, with rashes all over her ass and inner thigh area, as she fucks herself with a large crucifix while bent over doggy. she turns around and we make eye contact but relay absolutely no emotion to each other then i rip down the remaining 10 lines of staves magical medicine.

I walk in slow motion through a dreary basement dungeon past a man hanging in a harness while 3 or 4 people take turns fisting his asshole. Past a woman crucified on a giant wooden X, tied in place by her wrists and ankles by leather straps, a plastic KeyFood bag tied over her head, she gasps for air in ecstasy as two other women leather clad in replica SS Officer uniforms slash her small sweaty tits with medical grade scalpels. Past two men making out naked, covered in blood, using the thick red liquid to jerk each other off. Past a filthy mattress with a naked sleeping pregnant woman with the word ‘fuckslut’ written on her huge pregnant stomach in red lipstick. Still walking in slo-mo, the ketamine more or less starting to wear off, I moonwalk over to a small circular table where sits a familiar face: Stan. Or Steve? is cutting up lines of some pink powder, his sweat pants freshly wet with unknown body fluids.

“What’s up Stan, Steve, whatever the fuck your name is”

He continues cutting up lines, a dozen of them in 2 rows of 6, they are perfect, symmetrical, identical, on top of an old AOL free trial CD case, and he stares at the lines, transfixed, then says, flat and emotionless, “my names Chad”

part 2