Supersession69's Crazy Incursion
Ok, so I’m having sex right now.
Not like, primitive stick-in-the-hole hands fisted in boobies and ass sex. That’s for literal cavemen. What I’m having right now is a literal mindfuck—I’ve strapped myself into a chair and donned a helmet (it’s got dials on the side and it weighs one morbillion pounds—that’s how I know it’s the premium shit) and I’m waiting for my sexventure to begin. I boot up into the loading screen, and my screen name flashes into my retinas:
SUPERSESSION69 - YOUR SEXVENTURE IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!
Yeah, SuperSession69. That’s my name, the name I’ve lived in for my entire life. I’ve worn it down to the bone, and every fucker on this sexy website knows it like they know the back of their (CENSORED). I mean it. Everyone—man, woman, non-binary—they all fucking love me, because I’m the funny guy who writes about the funny sex, to put it simply. What subtext? No, no. It's all foretext.
But back to the sex. MY sex.
I’m not just having any kind of sex. When I strap my synapses into this thing, either one of two things will happen. Number one: I die. Number two: the headset stimulates the frontal part of my thalamus to the point where I achieve the sexual release I came here for. Maybe I’ll finally get to fuck Erica Park from my hit webnovel, Gifted Education Project. Or the three other girls I’ve managed to scrounge up from this sausage fest of a webnovel site. Or my aunt’s sister.
You know what? Erica Park it is.
And thankfully, I live to see another day.
When I finish my business, I rip off the headset and chuck it into my pile of used tissues like I always do. Unfortunately, the tissues are so crusty that they’ve congealed into this massive, solid block. I realise my mistake far too late. I might as well have thrown my headset into the pavement.
“No…!” I reach out, fingers splayed, but there’s nothing I can do.
My headset shatters into a billion pieces before my eyes: springs spill from the casing like innards, the dials fall to the ground and remain there. They look like disembodied eyeballs forced from their sockets—I can just hear my headset sobbing, sobbing, like a child crying to his father about abandonment and abuse and all of those silly things parents like to do to their kids.
…I should take my meds.
And tomorrow, I’m gonna go out for the first time in a decade for a new headset.