Dancing like I fuck. Or maybe I fuck like a dance. Fuck it. Six of one either fucking way. Tonight is no exception. Illuminated by red and black lighting as I go full throttle ending this workout on an explosive climax. 180-degree jumps. Dropping to the floor on each landing. Over and over. The soles of my cowboy boots smacking against linoleum repeatedly. I’m also wearing a bandana rolled up and tied around my forehead. And wristbands high on my forearms to alleviate my tennis (read: stripping) elbows. Aside from this, I’m butt-ass naked. My bubble butt ass itself shaking nonstop. My cock growing bigger and harder at the sight of my lean, muscular physique in the mirror. And from the feel of my body too. So strong and streamlined. Ready to take on the world. A drop of precum forms on the tip of my manhood. I feel the white-hot jizz building in my balls with each jump and drop so gloriously agonizing.
The dancing has concluded. But the desire to fuck grows stronger. My throbbing cock now aching to fuck a hot wet pussy. Or a tight asshole. Both. I want to stand tall and naked between two girls on their knees. One licking and sucking my cock. The other tongue fucking my tight asshole. Then they switch places. That’s one pleasure I’ve yet to enjoy. I want to make it happen. Along with so many other experiences sexual and otherwise. And there are pleasures past I want to enjoy again. Only bigger and better this time. Just like my self-confidence in this moment. Believing in myself like never before. A right I’ve earned. And a moral obligation. These 120 nights of personal growth and triumph have taught me much. Freeing me from the sins others have committed against me. Absolved me of the sins I committed. Including the sin of allowing others to sin against me. In this moment, I am reborn. No one can stop me.
I’ve shed nearly 80 lbs. since January 2022. The main key to my success has been intermittent fasting. Beginning with a 12-hour daily fast. Gradually increased until 120 days ago when I ultimately achieved 23 hours of fasting each day. I don’t eat less. Rather, I consume approximately 2000 calories (the ideal amount for most men) within a one-hour window every afternoon. My diet is heavy on complex carbs. I’m carb-loading all at once as opposed to spreading my food consumption across multiple meals and many hours. The one-meal-a-day (OMAD) approach has accelerated my fat loss because I’m only stopping my metabolism once a day as opposed to three or four times. And when I eat something, my metabolism grinds to a screeching halt. Hormonal issues resulting from years of steroid use. I didn’t gain all that fat because I let myself go. My days were full of physical activity and consuming healthy home-cooked meals devoid of processed foods. It was my hormones. But the difference between me and people using their hormonal issues as an excuse not to lose fat is that. I never stopped looking for a solution and tried many tactics. Because I don’t know the meaning of the word “quit.” This makes me better than a lot of people.
I also did lots of reading during this time. Diving deep into the works of social critics like Friedrich Nietzsche, Camille Paglia, and the Marquis de Sade. Beyond Good and Evil articulated my master morality and ubermensch status. Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson provided clearer understanding of how others perceive me. Ms. Paglia’s book also inspired me to finally read Sade. And I went for the throat with his signature unfinished novel.
Everyone who reads The 120 Days of Sodom has a drastic takeaway for better (Jim Morrison) or worse (Michel Foucault). I am no exception. Reading this book, page after page of disgusting and brutal atrocities I couldn’t fathom on my own, was shock treatment in literary form for me. Hyperbolic as all fuck yet rooted in hard truths I’ve been recognizing since early childhood. And that experience was exactly what I’ve been needing for many years. The full and irrefutable affirmation of what I already knew about people across all social classes. That I, for all my eccentricities, occupy a sizeable moral high ground above most people. I’ve been too kind and generous for my own good. And often thanked for it by being called selfish and uncaring. You know what? That’s fine. I will, from here on out, pursue the pleasures I desire. Without doing harm to anyone else nor preventing them from seeking pleasures in the same manner. That’s as much generosity as anyone is getting from me. And that’s a lot considering the sheer amount of people taking (and hurting others) while offering nothing of value in return.
“Compassion is the virtue of fools.”
-The Marquis de Sade
I gave them everything asked of me and then some. It was never enough. Like sharks smelling blood in the water. A tidal wave of mediocrity and self-hatred only technically human. More like zombies. They tore at my flesh with dirty fingernails. Blacker than any moonless forest night. Ripping my flesh to shreds. Accusing me of arrogance no matter how much I humbled myself before them. No matter how hard I tried to prove I wasn’t better than them. It was all in vain. They wanted my head, period. And once severed and devoured, they still demanded it. My gravest sin was attempting to fulfill this demand every time. Being naïve enough to believe I could and that it would appease them. Regardless of how dry they bled my body and soul. Until I finally jettisoned my last shred of idealism and fought my way out of the abyss. Even at my lowest, I had the nerve to never give up on myself. A capital offense in their dead and soulless eyes.
“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Along with the Marquis de Sade, Camille Paglia also brought Oscar Wilde to my attention. Though I’ve yet to read any of his works, two of his famous quotes have my attention. And Wilde was imprisoned for being gay, which makes me even less tolerant of losers whining about being misgendered.
“Philanthropic people lose all sense of humanity. It is their distinguishing characteristic.”
-Oscar Wilde
It’s no coincidence that proud philanthropists, from Bill Gates to the little old church lady accusing others of sexual depravity because no one wants to fuck her anymore (which itself is an act of sexual depravity), are always nasty and dishonest. Because selflessness – the purported act of helping another while expecting nor receiving anything in return – is bullshit. Virtue signaling and bragging rights are a return on investment that often manifest in monetary gain. Exploiting those in need for one’s own gain, receiving much more than given, and having the nerve to admonish those “helped” as never grateful enough is the epitome of evil. And providing for one’s own children is not at all a noble act. It’s a biological obligation. One that has nothing to do with anyone but the parents in question. And if that parent is willing to steal from me to feed their child, then I am free to destroy that parent as I see fit. If the child starves to death, the parent alone is liable for that atrocity.
“I must get far more out of myself than ever I got and ask far less of the world than ever I asked. Indeed, my ruin came not from too great individualism of life but from too little. The one disgraceful, unpardonable, and to all time contemptible action of my life was to allow myself to appeal to society for help and protection. To have made such an appeal would have been from the individualist point of view bad enough, but what excuse can there ever be put forward for having made it? Of course, once I had put into motion the forces of society, society turned on me and said, ‘Have you been living all this time in defiance of my laws, and do you now appeal to those laws for protection? You shall have those laws exercised to the full. You shall abide by what you have appealed to.’ The result is I am in jail. Certainly, no man ever fell so ignobly and by such ignoble instruments as I did.”
-Oscar Wilde
Asking others for help is the best example of being careful what one asks for lest one receives it. I figured this out long ago. To ask others for help would be to put myself at the mercy of others. To be a slave beholden to the whims of people who, honestly, are only stronger than me in numbers but weak individually. And someone with my talents and naked ambition would never be allowed to snatch that carrot at the end of the stick. Why reward me when I could be left chasing the dragon? It’s why I moved from one employer to another during early adulthood before finally going into business for myself. I may have let myself be robbed but refused every opportunity to get on my knees and beg to keep getting robbed. Once again, weak people (or “psychic vampires,” as Anton LaVey deemed them) can never squeeze enough blood from those foolish enough to feed them a few drops in the first place.
From an entrepreneurial standpoint… Asking others for permission to do anything is equally self-defeating and humiliating. This, too, I ascertained once upon a time. In my case, I noticed that it makes people uncomfortable if I ask them for permission to do anything. As if they felt I shouldn’t. Because they viewed me as being greater than them. Which would explain why so many have gone to extremes trying to feed off me. I was too blinded by my own perfectionism and easily manipulated because of this. It was during these 120 nights that I experienced another revelation. That I’m already near perfect. The closest to perfection I’ll ever get. And still light years closer than most will ever allow themselves to dream of reaching. I should be taking what I want. Because I’ve earned it time and time again. This is what everyone was trying to tell me in their respective cowardly and self-serving fashions.
“But beauty has its own laws inconsistent with Christian morality.”
-Camille Paglia
I’ve long noticed that Christian morality in contemporary practice has nothing to do with the teachings of Christ per the Gospels and everything to do with making excuses for one’s shortcomings. Making constant, “Well, at least I don’t…” arguments that are self-invalidating once those words are uttered. In my case, losers will spew drivel like, “Well, as least I don’t have to take off my clothes for money.” First, I don’t “have” to do anything. Second, I’ve turned down many opportunities to take off my clothes for money for various reasons, so anyone insinuating that I’ll do anything for money can take said insinuation and shove it up their ass sideways (and they’ll probably get off on it). Especially when any of them would rape a child, 120 Days of Sodom style, without argument or hesitation if ordered to by their employer. At the very least, they can enjoy having to beg for time off along with taking diversity, equity, and inclusion training while apologizing to everyone for being white. Third, I’ve proven time after time that I exceed most people not only in aesthetics but also character, intellect, courage, and self-discipline. Physical beauty is a hand I was dealt and forced to play like anyone else. And even then, there’s a fat man within me desperately trying to break free that I must work every day to constrain. Beautiful people play by a different set of rules because we’re not eligible to play those of everyone else. Losing sight of this out of guilt I was manipulated into carrying on my shoulders is what gets me into trouble.
“Either kill me or take me as I am, because I’ll be damned if I ever change.”
-The Marquis de Sade
I’ve burned more than body fat over the past 120 nights and preceding months. The walls I built high around me years ago are now scorched rubble at my feet. A pile I stand atop with authority. My personal variation of the man on the silver mountain. In snakeskin cowboy boots and black leather pants. My cock out. Rock hard and in the top 1% of men. The moral high ground is mine. I am honest and hardworking by my walking the walk. Not an erroneous belief resulting from the false equivalencies of dichotomous thinking. I feel no shame because I have no moral obligation to. Nor do I owe anyone an explanation for anything I do or say. Anyone who wishes to challenge this can go fuck themselves.
My stripper name has changed from Magnum to King Magnum. Reflecting the advancements I’ve made and must continue making. Ruling by decree. Taking what I want as I give equal value in return. My future success in all endeavors will be wholly based on this iron-fisted leadership approach. It’s what my clients and audiences crave. Seeking them out and telling them what we’re doing. Because I’m the king.
My ascent to greatness begins now, so bend over and spread those cheeks wide open…