The more I think about it, the closer I come to the sweet conclusion that what keeps me going is my immeasurable hatred of that object of sexual idolatry, the foids.
Nature traps me into wanting to stick my dick in every available hole a female has, and yet, the more I swallow more blackpills, the more I realise that the satisfaction of a tortured woman, begging for her life, bloodied and suffering in her last few breaths of life is far more satisfying; an act that makes you understand that even though Chad has fucked her pussy like roast beef, it is you who will end her life after a long torture.
Can't you hear it? It's the screams of a slut writhing in pain: a moan louder than any Chad could ever give her. Can't you hear it? It's the rusty, tetanus-ridden scissors cutting into a ravaged clitoris; it's your gloved hands thundering after striking that bitch's face. Of course you can hear it. It is your release as incels: absolute control of a foid whose will can be nothing but your own.
Thousands of possible tortures rumble in my brain with the most depraved ways of ending the insignificant life of the biggest of vipers, called women. You know that mutilating women is my favorite, but..., how pleasant it is to see the ways in which you can bend human life. Fucking a foid while you burn her back with cigarettes or a blowtorch! You won't feel my 4-inch micropenis, but truly, her pain will accompany my penetrations.
And finally, ZAS!!!! When the foid can't take any more suffering, stick a knife in her belly so that she slowly bleeds to death. She's yours! Yes, she has been yours and no one else's. Neither Chad has this ability to take life. And me, I have her at my disposal whenever I want, whenever I want.
Pressure, never pleasure!
Nature traps me into wanting to stick my dick in every available hole a female has, and yet, the more I swallow more blackpills, the more I realise that the satisfaction of a tortured woman, begging for her life, bloodied and suffering in her last few breaths of life is far more satisfying; an act that makes you understand that even though Chad has fucked her pussy like roast beef, it is you who will end her life after a long torture.
Can't you hear it? It's the screams of a slut writhing in pain: a moan louder than any Chad could ever give her. Can't you hear it? It's the rusty, tetanus-ridden scissors cutting into a ravaged clitoris; it's your gloved hands thundering after striking that bitch's face. Of course you can hear it. It is your release as incels: absolute control of a foid whose will can be nothing but your own.
Thousands of possible tortures rumble in my brain with the most depraved ways of ending the insignificant life of the biggest of vipers, called women. You know that mutilating women is my favorite, but..., how pleasant it is to see the ways in which you can bend human life. Fucking a foid while you burn her back with cigarettes or a blowtorch! You won't feel my 4-inch micropenis, but truly, her pain will accompany my penetrations.
And finally, ZAS!!!! When the foid can't take any more suffering, stick a knife in her belly so that she slowly bleeds to death. She's yours! Yes, she has been yours and no one else's. Neither Chad has this ability to take life. And me, I have her at my disposal whenever I want, whenever I want.
Pressure, never pleasure!
