My life was meaningless. I had nothing to my name. I didn't have any skills. My parents thought I was such a disappointment. I spent all my time on the internet. I had no friends. At least in real life. And I didn't know how to change it.
I was planning on ending it all. Swallowing a bunch of pills. Shooting my brains out with a gun. Even jumping off a building. But every time I tried, I held the pills in my hand, the gun up to my head, and looked down from the edge of the building, I couldn't. I was such a failure I couldn't even kill myself. The world would have been a better place without me. But I still couldn't bring myself to do it. I would break down crying each time. I was a coward.
But the week following my last attempt to off myself, I came across a myth on the internet. The myth of Shrek. How he was our true Orgelord. And I didn't take it serious at first. It was just a stupid meme made back in 2010. Old news. Barely relevant anymore.
But later that night when I lay down in my bed I couldn't help but remember him. I was attempting to sleep, though I still had my ipod on, and the light shined into my eyes helping me forget how tired I was. Maybe it was how empty my heart felt. Or how sex deprived I was, still a virgin at 19. But Shrek was on my mind.
I reached down to scratch an itch out of my crotch. I didn't mean for my hand to linger. Not while I was thinking of a giant green hairy beast. But after reminding myself that I wasn't attracted to an eight foot tall tower of sweaty fat that probably smelled like onions, I thought why not. My dick was already hard. I had tissues over on the side of the desk next to my bed.
I started to rub gently up and down my shaft. I was about to reach over into a desk drawer for some lube, but a thought occurred to me, Shrek would want it rough. I imagined his big meaty hands grabbing me, making my manhood look in comparison small and weak. I could only wonder what his salty fingers would taste like in my mouth. My tongue moistened as I thought about it.
He doesn't sound like the type that would want to give someone so weak pleasure. There would be no reason for him to pay any attention to me. He is a god among us. And I am just a pathetic cockroach who lives on other peoples pity. But he is a just god. And I believe if I tried to pleasure him, I would get just as much pleasure out of it. I fapped harder, yanking on myself. My dick burned, but the friction didn't stop me. I closed my eyes, picturing him gazing down at me. Smirking to himself. If he saw me, he would probably think I was pathetic. All alone, trying to pleasure myself to the thought of him. He would probably like it though.
The burn of the friction grew as warm liquid flowed over my hand and dick. I pulled the covers off, still yanking hard, I couldn't stop, I was so close. I could see dark liquid down there in the light of the computer screen. I had ripped the skin and I was bleeding. Every time my hand rushed over the cut it stung. But now with less friction, I could go faster, and the stinging was intense. The blood splattered onto my inner thighs as I whipped my hand back and forth. Again and again.
This was like no other time I have ever fapped. Nothing had ever made me feel so alive before. Not the skinny girls in my picture folders with giant breasts, and perfect skin. Not the warm and fuzzy feeling I would get when I thought of my many crushes.
"Shrek," a whisper of his name fell from my lips. His name, it sounded so sexy. A pressure was building in my dick. It wasn't far now. I was breathing hard. "Shrek," I muttered louder. He needed to be praised. He was my lord now, I would accept him as my savior. I needed to show him how much I appreciated and needed him. And my shout of ecstasy, crying his name as loud as I could was the push I needed to cum.
White sperm shot out of my mutilated dick all over my bed and up onto my shirt. I felt some of it land on my chin, but I was too exhausted to wipe it away. I fell back onto my pillow. I was out of breath, and I couldn't think straight. My parents probably heard me screaming, they might be coming to check on me. I should start cleaning up.
"I don't want it to be orge." I groaned. And from the dark corner of my bedroom I heard the words, "It'll never be orge." Shrek stepped out of the shadow. A toothy smile full on his face. He walked up to me, I couldn't move. My hero was here, in the flesh. He was real. He bent over my limp body, and with one of his fingers, wiped away the sperm from my chin. He brought his finger up to his mouth, and tasted my seed. A low rumble of enjoyment escapes his throat, "That is a mean onion stew." Relief floods my body, and I sit up. "How did you get here? How long were you-"
"I heard you hollering for me." He turned and started walking away. He paused at the doorway when he realized I hadn't moved. He turned around and asked, "Aren't ye coming, boy?"
I quickly jumped out of my bed, pulling some pants on. Suddenly I wasn't tired at all. I followed him out of my room down the hallway. My parents bedroom door opened, my dad froze in his tracks when he saw Shrek. "Ainsley? What's going on?" He asked as we passed him.
"I'm bringing him to my Swamp." Shrek said before he pounded down the stairs.
My Dad wobbled where he stood, his mouth gaping open. "Goodbye Dad." I said, and then hurried after Shrek. My Dad called after me, not wanting me to leave. But this was my calling. Shrek was my life now. Shrek will fill me with love.
I was planning on ending it all. Swallowing a bunch of pills. Shooting my brains out with a gun. Even jumping off a building. But every time I tried, I held the pills in my hand, the gun up to my head, and looked down from the edge of the building, I couldn't. I was such a failure I couldn't even kill myself. The world would have been a better place without me. But I still couldn't bring myself to do it. I would break down crying each time. I was a coward.
But the week following my last attempt to off myself, I came across a myth on the internet. The myth of Shrek. How he was our true Orgelord. And I didn't take it serious at first. It was just a stupid meme made back in 2010. Old news. Barely relevant anymore.
But later that night when I lay down in my bed I couldn't help but remember him. I was attempting to sleep, though I still had my ipod on, and the light shined into my eyes helping me forget how tired I was. Maybe it was how empty my heart felt. Or how sex deprived I was, still a virgin at 19. But Shrek was on my mind.
I reached down to scratch an itch out of my crotch. I didn't mean for my hand to linger. Not while I was thinking of a giant green hairy beast. But after reminding myself that I wasn't attracted to an eight foot tall tower of sweaty fat that probably smelled like onions, I thought why not. My dick was already hard. I had tissues over on the side of the desk next to my bed.
I started to rub gently up and down my shaft. I was about to reach over into a desk drawer for some lube, but a thought occurred to me, Shrek would want it rough. I imagined his big meaty hands grabbing me, making my manhood look in comparison small and weak. I could only wonder what his salty fingers would taste like in my mouth. My tongue moistened as I thought about it.
He doesn't sound like the type that would want to give someone so weak pleasure. There would be no reason for him to pay any attention to me. He is a god among us. And I am just a pathetic cockroach who lives on other peoples pity. But he is a just god. And I believe if I tried to pleasure him, I would get just as much pleasure out of it. I fapped harder, yanking on myself. My dick burned, but the friction didn't stop me. I closed my eyes, picturing him gazing down at me. Smirking to himself. If he saw me, he would probably think I was pathetic. All alone, trying to pleasure myself to the thought of him. He would probably like it though.
The burn of the friction grew as warm liquid flowed over my hand and dick. I pulled the covers off, still yanking hard, I couldn't stop, I was so close. I could see dark liquid down there in the light of the computer screen. I had ripped the skin and I was bleeding. Every time my hand rushed over the cut it stung. But now with less friction, I could go faster, and the stinging was intense. The blood splattered onto my inner thighs as I whipped my hand back and forth. Again and again.
This was like no other time I have ever fapped. Nothing had ever made me feel so alive before. Not the skinny girls in my picture folders with giant breasts, and perfect skin. Not the warm and fuzzy feeling I would get when I thought of my many crushes.
"Shrek," a whisper of his name fell from my lips. His name, it sounded so sexy. A pressure was building in my dick. It wasn't far now. I was breathing hard. "Shrek," I muttered louder. He needed to be praised. He was my lord now, I would accept him as my savior. I needed to show him how much I appreciated and needed him. And my shout of ecstasy, crying his name as loud as I could was the push I needed to cum.
White sperm shot out of my mutilated dick all over my bed and up onto my shirt. I felt some of it land on my chin, but I was too exhausted to wipe it away. I fell back onto my pillow. I was out of breath, and I couldn't think straight. My parents probably heard me screaming, they might be coming to check on me. I should start cleaning up.
"I don't want it to be orge." I groaned. And from the dark corner of my bedroom I heard the words, "It'll never be orge." Shrek stepped out of the shadow. A toothy smile full on his face. He walked up to me, I couldn't move. My hero was here, in the flesh. He was real. He bent over my limp body, and with one of his fingers, wiped away the sperm from my chin. He brought his finger up to his mouth, and tasted my seed. A low rumble of enjoyment escapes his throat, "That is a mean onion stew." Relief floods my body, and I sit up. "How did you get here? How long were you-"
"I heard you hollering for me." He turned and started walking away. He paused at the doorway when he realized I hadn't moved. He turned around and asked, "Aren't ye coming, boy?"
I quickly jumped out of my bed, pulling some pants on. Suddenly I wasn't tired at all. I followed him out of my room down the hallway. My parents bedroom door opened, my dad froze in his tracks when he saw Shrek. "Ainsley? What's going on?" He asked as we passed him.
"I'm bringing him to my Swamp." Shrek said before he pounded down the stairs.
My Dad wobbled where he stood, his mouth gaping open. "Goodbye Dad." I said, and then hurried after Shrek. My Dad called after me, not wanting me to leave. But this was my calling. Shrek was my life now. Shrek will fill me with love.