How do I prepare myself for a gangbang? There's these

Are you a boy or a girl?

this is bait
nobody is that stupid

>>17516397
Guy. 18.

>>17516394
Get your stuff stolen and your throat slit.

>>17516399
Desperate times when you're broke.
But you can take it or leave it.

So...nothing at all?

>>17516505
>Nothing at all
>Nothing at all
>Nothing at all

Here's how you prepare.

Imagine the happiest possible dream of your future. Maybe it involves children. Maybe it involves a husband. Maybe it involves being famous. Maybe it just involves having an apartment and cats.

Now, hold your beautiful dream inside your heart. Fixate on how good you feel. Let yourself be fully overcome by how wonderful your dream is.

Great!

Now, think about the picture in your mind of your dream. Imagine it is a beautiful oil painting.

Stare intently at the painting. You are looking at it, soaking in every detail, overjoyed at how wonderful your dream is.

But something is wrong.

From the top edge of the painting, you see moths, and maggots, and larvae of various types. They are crawling, slowly. The moths flutter randomly. As this sickening infestation of wretched creatures moves, you can see that they are eating away at the edge the painting. No longer is the top edge of the painting a crisp line, wrapped in a beautiful mahogaony frame.

No. In the center of the top edge, the destruction of the canvas is complete. The fabric indeed begins to sag under its weight. The vermin have already devoured the top edge of the painting. They are working their way, slowly, disgustingly, towards the center. What they leave behind them is rot; feces; ooze.

But where they've trod; nothing remains. The beautiful image of your future has been beheaded; its topmost inches destroyed.

You cannot bear to see it any longer. You look away. You look at the floor, below the painting.

And you see that your fixation on the crawling vermin had left you oblivious to the present horror underneath. For wicking at the bottom of your beautiful painting are the flames of damnation. Pure blue flames, casting a sickly green penumbra skywards... the sear and char the bottom of your painting. The offensive flames put you into a trance, as you watch them consume the painting's bottom edge. You are transfixed by the dancing, consuming fire...

>>17516626
... until your other senses, until this point ignored, wake you from your stupor.

You can now smell the smell of burning canvas.

You can hear the sound of the destruction of flame. The frame crackles. The moisture in the canvas... the oils in the paints... they sizzle out, as the unbearable heat releases them.

This beautiful vision of your future; your ultimate image of happiness... is being consumed by flame at the bottom... and devoured by vermin at the top.

There is no fire extinguisher. There are no sprinklers.

There is only destruction.

>>17516629

And what of the left and right edges? And of the center? Surely the center of your grand vision still lays intact? Certainly if you squint, and look through the flames of consumption.. certainly you still see the focal point of your dream, standing fast against the encroaching evil?

No.

No, my friend.

The center of your painting has changed too. But not from moth; not from flame. Just fleeting moments ago, your painting was a beautiful, fixed work of art. It did not move; instead, it captured, perfectly frozen in time, that precise moment of greatest possible happiness.

Now, even that has changed. Unbeleivably, the center of your painting has become animted. The cherubs and angels that had witnessed your dream from their skyward perches are restless. Presently, they begin to look around. They look around the scene of your happiness, as if they are searching for something. They search in vain for the source of this creeping terror; this unmaking of creation by an unknown evil.. until at least, they turn their gazes outward.

>>17516633
Finally, they break the fourth wall, and look outside of their imprisoning frame, and find you, staring back at them.

And their expression changes. Their faces become angry. Their wings blacken; veins and sinew become apparent; feathers transfigure into leathery skin. Golden locks of glorious hair recede and fall out as you watch, consumed by horror.

The cherubs horns and harps presently take on a new character. You cannot quite make out what transformation of their form is underway, squinting as you are to contend with the intense flame and offensive odor.

And suddenly, it becomes clear. A cherub-turned-gargoyle on the right has taken the strings of his harp, and tied them around his own neck. He is pulling them ever tighter. At first, only a thin red line appears, superimposed over the thin harp string.

Then it begins to drip. And drip. And then a stream. And then an unceasing waterfall of black blood pours out of the throat of the gargoyle, flooding over the scene of your happiness.

The gargole on the left has unbent his beautiful trumpet. He has refashioned the brass into something devilish and arcane.

It is long, and thin, and barbed, yet retains the bell of the trumpet at its far end. It is evidentally still some kind of musical instrument. After this sinister work, he again makes eye contact with you. His eyes have become solid black. His leathery wings flap slowly, as if to emphasize his presence more than to keep him aloft.

He raises the terminus of the instrument towards you, and places the mouthpeice in his black crooked beak.

>>17516636

And you know, finally, in this moment, that there is no purpose in imagining what unhearable sound will come out of that unholy instrument. You realize that the actuality of your suffering shall be infinite. As the demon pushes his firey breath through the mouthpeice, and then the body, and finally the bell of the Horn of the Unmaking, the moving scene at the center of your most secret dreams is finally made clear to you in its total defilement. It is saturated with the blood of demons, the husks of vermin, and the fires of hell. Only the dim outlines of your dreams exist; and only in such substantiation that you can make out very clearly that you once loved; that you once dreamed; that you once had a future.

There is no longer any resolvable glimpse of what was lost; only a black hole that conveys the desolation of longing; the immeasurable sense that something great once existed, but is forever gone, and cannot ever be remade.

This is the future you asked for.

Are you prepared?

>>17516633
nigga wtf

File: 1378873353889.png (63KB, 192x154px) Image search: [Google]

63KB, 192x154px

>>17516645
Post(s) of the year of our lord 2016

$400 isnt much at all

rethink this f@m

>>17516394

you will never forgive yourself for doing this

>First, tell them you like being tied up and bondage.
>secretly video tape the whole scene
>Make them pay you more or you'll call rape
>???? profit
>contact bangbros, telling them you have a video
>???? Profit
if you can't accomplish this, rethink your decisions