“I hate myself” Jonathan Richards thought to himself on the morning of April 2, 2020.”No, no, NO!” his mind retorted.
He had been trained not to express hatred towards himself by a Behavioral Therapist named Richard Johns.
“Never say ‘I hate myself,'” Dr. Johns would tell Jon. “Instead, say ‘I hate my elf.’ Transfer that negativity onto something else…purchase an elf toy and direct your angst towards that instead.”This strategy had proven effective for 20 years, but today Jonathan forgot to carry around a porcelain elf with him.
He had an entire basement full of porcelain elves who he had been yelling at and occasionally performing violent acts against. Some of them had been decapitated, others simply hit with baseball bats. He had spent a fortune on porcelain elves. The plastic elves were more difficult to injure unless he used fire, which he didn’t prefer. Jonathan’s typical monthly porcelain elf bill was around $1800. He was deeply ashamed of his habit, but he found it did help him from expressing negativity towards himself.
Now there was a global pandemic raging, and his supply of Chinese-made porcelain elves was running thin, which explains why he forgot to bring one with him. He was in his car, in a Whole Foods parking lot. “Fuck it.” he thought. He began masturbating vigorously inside of his car. Jon was also a sex addict and needed to feel pangs of sexual excitement constantly.
He had discovered several years prior that he could sate his rabid hunger for sex by eating Penis Pasta for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was simply pasta in the shape of a cartoonish penis. He would purchase boxes of Penis Pasta from “Condom Kingdom,” a novel sex shop on South Street in Philadelphia. Eating the penile noodles made his genital area tingle with delight. He’d slather them in a rich cream sauce that reminded him of semen. This further amplified his arousal. He intended to try Peppermint Nipples and Edible Anuses as well.
Jon sat in his car masturbating. He thought of the big bowl of Penis Pasta dinner he’d make later that night, the fresh cum-like cream sauce made with organic Whole Foods ingredients, the parmesan cheese sprinkled on top. He began to climax but at the split second when he began to ejaculate he was hit with a lightning like pounding headache. It was a terrible pain. “FUCK, I HATE MYSELF!” he screamed aloud. “NO NO NO NO”
He knew he couldn’t keep repeating this hateful rhetoric without further damaging his already fragile ego.
He ran into the Whole Foods and approached a worker with pink hair, piercings and tattoos.
“Do you sell porcelain elves here?” he said, frantically.
“What?” said the pink haired girl.
“PORCELAIN ELVES? OR ANY KIND OF ELF TOY!”
“Umm, I don’t think so. I can ask my manager.”
“I don’t have time…I need to express hatred towards an Elf NOW!”He ran out of the store, forgetting to purchase his Cream Sauce ingredients.
Ignoring traffic lights, stop signs and pedestrians Jon rushed to South St. to purchase his Penis Pasta from Condom Kingdom. Tremors of tension pulsed through his entire body. He was sweating from head to toe as he parked his car. Images of the penis shaped noodles flashed before his eyes as he hastily stumbled to the entrance.But much to his chagrin there was a notice on the door: “CLOSED DUE TO COVID-19 FOR FORSEEABLE FUTURE.”
Jon was not having a good day. “If the grocery store can be open during a pandemic, why can’t Condom Kingdom be open?” he thought to himself as he ran to his car. He popped open the trunk and grabbed a baseball bat. He smashed the storefront window and grabbed 3 boxes of Penis Pasta from a display case. “This will last me until at least tomorrow” he thought to himself. For a brief moment he thought about grabbing some Boobie Pops or Pussy Patch Sours, but decided against it. If he were to try something new, he’d want it to be when he felt more at ease and less tense.
He got back in the car and rushed home. He could hear the blare of the sirens, undoubtedly called to deal with the carnage he had wrought on Condom Kingdom’s windows. Images of the penis pasta flashed before his eyes again. He couldn’t help himself. Before going inside he’d have to masturbate again. He passionately rubbed himself and reached climax within seconds. But BAM. The lightning bolt of pain struck once again and the unbearable twinges were pulsing through his entire body. “I FUCKING HATE MYSELF” Jon screamed.
“No! No! No!” his mind retorted.
He ran inside, and immediately went to his basement, where the sea of porcelain elves lived. “I HATE MY ELVES! I HATE MY ELVES! NOT MYSELF! I HATE MY ELVES!” he screamed as he stomped on the heads of dozens of porcelain elves. And just like that, he felt better.
As Jon lay in bed next to his beautiful wife Chrystal he thought about his newfound problem. Not being able to cum would be a serious issue for him. He’d have to see a doctor. He tossed and turned. He barely noticed Chrystal’s massive and shapely breasts, which were practically bursting out of her newly purchased negligee. “Let’s make love, Jon” she whispered in his ear. “NO!” screamed Jon. “I have too much going on right now.” She began to cry. “Soon, baby, I promise.” said Jon.
The next day Jon was able to make an appointment with his Primary Care Physician, Dr. John Johns (brother of his Behavioral Therapist Richard Johns).
“Jon! It’s great to see you!” said Dr. Johns
“It’s good to see you too Dr. Johns” said Jon.
“What seems to be the problem Jon?” said Dr. Johns
“Well doc, every time I ejaculate I get this pulsing throbbing pain.”
“I see…well…let’s do some diagnostic testing on that.”
Dr. Johns hooked Jon’s head up to various tubing and wiring. Diodes and cables ran everywhere. Dr. Johns rolled in a monitor which showed Jon’s brain activity in real time.
“Ok, Jon, now I’ll need you to ejaculate for me so I can watch your brain waves as it happens.”Dr. Johns grabbed Jon’s penis. “Now get erect, boy” said Dr. Johns.
“I’m not horny right now” said Jon.
“Very well” said Dr. Johns, annoyed.
He went into a closet and returned with a television, a cart and a VCR. He dusted off a pornographic VHS entitled “Suck My Cock, I’ll Fuck Your Face” and popped it into the VCR. The pornographic images flashed across the screen and they seemed to be doing the trick. Dr. John’s hand was on Jon’s crotch.
“Very good, Jon, very good…I can feel you are getting erect.”
“Ok, well whip it out now and I’ll jerk you off until you cum. I’ll monitor the screen during your moment of climax.” said Dr. JohnsJon pulled out his erect penis and Dr. Johns began stroking it with very precise and consistent tugs. It was without passion.
After a minute or so the Dr. became impatient. “Are you going to cum soon, boy?” said Dr. Johns.
“It’s just too clinical for me, Dr.”
“Goddamit!” said Dr. Johns.
“Shall I blow you then?”
“Ok, let’s try that” said Jon.
Dr. Johns got on his knees and began bobbing his head up and down on Jon’s cock.
“Spit on it, Dr. Slurp that shit.”
The Dr. followed his orders.
“Dr. Johns, I think I will cum soon, but maybe you could twist my nipples or something?”
The doctor continued slobbering on Job’s knob and did as he was told. He twisted John’s left nipple. Jon erupted in a violent burst and the doctor swallowed his load. “FUCK!” Jon screamed. The pain had returned.
“I have bad news for you, Jon.” said Dr. Johns, wiping the saliva and semen from his lips with a napkin.”Because I was blowing you, I was not able to monitor your brain activity at the moment of climax. We’ll have to do this again, but I have other patients to see now. Can you come back another day?”
“Yes, Dr. Johns” said Jon.
Jon went to the reception desk.
“Dr. Johns’ next available appointment is on December 25.” said the receptionist.
“That’s in 8 months!” screamed Jon.
“Yes it is” said the receptionist.
“Alright, book it.” said Jon.
This had been a tough week for Jonathan Richards. He had developed a debilitating condition which ran in direct conflict with his sex addiction, and the ongoing pandemic had prevented him from sticking to his normal routine. He went home and lay down to take a nap. As he closed his eyes, he thought about the future. “Maybe things will get better soon” he thought. His eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.
Jon never woke up from that nap. The headaches he had gotten during ejaculation were warning signs of acute fibromyalgia. As he slept, the fibromyalgia cells took over his entire body and he died, peacefully.