In order to achieve a higher self, many religious sects practice asceticism. Gaping your third eye to the higher consciousness is a prerequisite for any of our reading materials, because you open yourself to the secret knowledge of the universe while cleansing your chakras of false truths. Here at Plague Magazine, we've had several people write-in regarding their ascetic experiences to achieve this higher state of mind. We hope this page serves as a guiding light on your journey to opening your mind and accepting greater truths.
On November 1st, I donned a shiny purple cock ring on my shlong. At the behest of my colleagues, I decided to participate in No Nut November, but my job at the circus requires me to remain erect at least 8 hours a day. I went to the local sex shop, and the ring winked at me from a shelf, shining like an opalescent gem.
I’m a respectable guy -- I was recently made a finalist for Guy Whose Penis They Throw Rings On at the circus. Working at the circus requires a lot of discipline. You don’t just go from rings to horseshoes on day one. Plus, there’s a lot of fun and goofy stuff at circuses, like monkeys playing instruments and women eating cotton candy, which distracts me from maintaining my monstrous erection.
That’s why I thought I had this whole No Nut November thing in the bag. So, I thought, I’ll cheat a little. I know it wasn’t right, but I didn’t think it was such a big deal. When I bought that shiny purple cock ring, I didn’t realize just how top-of-the-line that little device was. It came Facebook-enabled, with Alexa pre-installed, and by golly, that cock ring was going to hold me to my promise.
I was alone in my circus trailer. I just saw a four-titted woman, so I was feeling particularly horny that evening. Peeking out of my red-and-white striped curtains to make sure no one was watching, I felt myself giving in to temptation. I unzipped my pants, my heart pounding in anticipation as I took the little top hat off of my penis. It had been two weeks since November 1st. The cock ring glinted in the shadows, but I paid it no mind. I was so naive. At first tug, I felt a whoosh. The ring suddenly lit up bright red, tightening impossibly upon my weiner. I exclaimed as my balls shriveled in pain. Some people might be into that sort of thing, but personally, I just think it’s rude and unsexy.
I was nursing my damaged testicles when I heard a shrill voice from the corner of the trailer. I jumped, cupping my now flaccid penis in shame.
“Who’s there?!” I shouted.
The figure in the corner gave no response, only making strange grunting noises and occasional shrill yelps of what I can only presume to be somewhere between pleasure and pain. But I was unafraid -- after all, I’m a circus man, and pain and pleasure is my specialty.
I threw on the lights, and I was confronted by none other than the face of Mark Zuckerberg, his forked tongue trailing below his chin as he masturbated furiously. I was horrified. Don’t get me wrong, we love sexual deviancy in the circus community, but consent is key. That’s why we famously excommunicated Louis C.K., leaving him to pursue a middling career in standup -- which we all know is just a lamer and stupider version of being a circus freak. Plus, you make way less money.
“You broke your promise,” said Mark, still jerking.
“Dude, stop,” I said. My penis was now retracting inside my body.
“No nut november, bro. You promised.”
A year ago, I was dating a guy named Tyler, who ended up being a Tyler in the worst way. He was always watching ballgames. One time I was complaining about my lower half feeling stuffed and instead of being an attentive listener, he had to jump right into advice giving. He said I should poop. I rolled my eyes, went into another room and listened to Halsey for an hour. After I calmed down, I sat Tyler down and explained that pooping, with it's pushing, grunting, pain and long cleanup, was a lot like childbirth: something women are wrongly expected to do for free.
A few months ago, long after Tyler pulled a Tyler and ran off with my best friend, I learned that my own objection to poop bondage was part of a long tradition. Greek women in the 19th century refused to shit until their husbands ended their man's war against the Ottoman Empire. Months after the triangle shirtwaist fire, radicals carried out the Murray Street toilet burnings. In the 2000s anorexia and bulimia received a great deal of media attention, but with men dominating journalism, their political meaning was downplayed.
In the age of OnlyFans, fecal activism has become bigger than ever. Both cisgender and trans women earn money selling photos of themselves making to allies. Juicy sweatpants have been replaced by Fudgy sweatpants. Bernie Sanders has talked about subsidizing shitting for women, shamelessly stealing AOC's policy idea. While it's easy to scoff at privileged white women like Sofia Coppola hopping on to the trend with her recent Prada ads, it's obvious that a lot of progress has been made. So next time your side piece asks why your stomache is rumbling so much, tell him it's because of his white privelege.
I am a Hot Girl, and this is my story.
The summer I turned 16, I felt an idea rocket explode in my brain, giving birth to a million idea babies. I was struck, confounded -- shell shocked, I say! That summer, I began developing the conspiracy theory that I am in fact, a Hot Girl.
In order to test my powers as a Hot Girl, I decided to commit to a systematic approach. Using a Google Spreadsheet (the sexier younger sister to Excel Spreadsheets), I wrote a list of the Hot Girl Characteristics that could be lying dormant in my sexy body.
1. A hot girl never poops
2. A hot girl cuts her nails so she can put fake long ones on top. NEVER let the real nails grow.
3. A hot girl has perfect skin. Alternatives include products such as “foundation” which are used to create a smooth veneer, much like the plastic wrap around Grandma’s couch. Note: do not put real plastic wrap around your skin. This will result in death, which can be totally horny, but under only specific circumstances. See HOT GIRL CODE 6.24 TITLE 11: The Laura Palmer Provision
4. Body hair is acceptable in quadrants I, II(a), and IV. See appendix for further instruction.
5. Hot Girl is unknowable.
My obsessive research of Hot Girls became lengthy and frankly gay af. But damn it, now’s not the time to be sexually confused! I realized that being such a big nerd was beginning to contradict my Hot Girl Autoconspiracy. I was not discouraged.
See, that summer, I believe I was sexually harassed at a pool party by my friend’s uncle when he seductively said, “Hey, kiddo, could you please pass the salsa dip?” The thought that a man -- especially such a ripely aged one -- could be interested in me “‘passing the dip’” was such an honor that my self-esteem instantly skyrocketed. If I attracted the attention of a guy so generously endowed with man boobs, who knew how long it would be until my less plump, but incredibly perky, breasts would burn from flying too close to the sun? Maybe I could attract the attention of the cute burnouts loitering at my bus stop! Or even better, the distinguished gentleman at the Kum N Go gas station! My brain was firing on all cylinders, and the conspiracy began unrolling before my very eyes.
I began to chip away at the Hot Girl within. To ensure my nails never grew too long, I had them surgically removed. The women at the nail salon recoil at my fleshy, raw nail beds, but it is only because they know that I am the Number One Hot Girl, the Hottest to ever do it. I tell myself it’s lonely at the top of the Hotness pyramid, even the nail ladies aren’t my friends anymore. But my resolve only strengthened as my separation from the “normal” aka Not Hot, Very Ugly People Of Society greatened.
Perhaps the most strenuous act of Hotness was limiting my bowel movements. I trained in ancient martial arts practiced by the master Hot Girls of Edo period Japan. In the royal Japanese courts, Hot Girls would sit motionless for weeks, never letting out so much as a single dookie, to a rapt and awe-inspired audience. When a second generation Hot Girl went pee pee on stage, she was swiftly condemned to special ritual suicide for Hot Girls called sePOOku. Indeed, for a Hot Girl, to go pee pee is the very same as stabby stabby blood gush. So I trained, in combat with my own bowels, to never poop or pee again. These days, I only poop on new moons, and in true Hot Girl fashion, I carry a Zara colostomy bag, since I cannot yet afford the luxury Miu Miu colostomy bags.
Yes, I suppose it will be a long time before the public finds out about my Hotness. One day, I hope society comes to a place where we can all realize and be at peace with the Truth -- that I am Hot. People have called me crazy, but it’s only because they’re so set in their ways; they let fear control their lives. If they opened their hearts, like I have, they will see the light. And that light is me, the Hottest Girl. You might be wondering, am I really a Hot Girl if I can’t even have the hottest colostomy bags of the season? But throughout my training, I’ve learned that hotness is not such a material thing. No, hotness is about resolve. The resolve of living my truth, of shitting in a bag for a month straight, of learning Japanese so I can read Wikipedia articles about Ancient Hot Girls who went pee pee on stage, of sacrificing it all for the good of mankind.
I’ve got three papers due tomorrow
I was going to start one on friday
but i wanted to watch tv
I was going to start one Saturday
But my friends were hanging out
I didn’t even want to go
But I need to keep up my brand
Down the hatch,
Just one pill
is my perscription
Well not my perscription,
I bought these from
a middle schooler
Actually I’m not sure how much to take
I should call my friend
He would know
His dad’s a doctor
Hey dude, can i ask you something?
Wait 1 is baby talk?
I should do more?
Your little sister in 4th grade
Is barely phased by 5?
Ok I guess,
You’re the expert
I’m not gonna argue
I’ve always suspected
that I have some
sort of ADD
Five down the hatch
It’s time to get started
I’m glad I’m being smart about it
I’m really pretty smart, aren’t I?
I guess i never thought about it
But I really know a lot
I guess I don’t like doing work that much
But I know how to game the system
Hey maybe gaming the system
Is how the system was meant to be played
Yeah I think I figured it out
Where did i put my juul?
It’s 8pm and I’m going strong
I’ll finish this up in no time
I’m a data synthesizing machine
I spent 45 minutes
reading about planes
From the youtube recommended section
I can easily incorporate that
into my econ essay
I’m so good at drawing connections
I never realized how beautiful life is
I’m so glad my parents raised me to be interested in things
I’m doing what i’m supposed to, i am where I need to be
I would love to jerk off right now
No no, gotta keep
doing my work,
there’s a deadline
You know i haven’t talked
to my friend from camp
in almost nearly a year
If we don’t make the effort to stay in touch
we’ll be just like our parents
I’ll call him now I’ll prove them wrong
This is the most important thing I’ve ever done
How are you doing, what’s been up?
Wait actually Let me tell you about my life
Things are so good, i’m really where I’m supposed to be
I have all these great ideas too
In fact, I think up so many great ideas that
I think it would be a waste of my time
to follow through on any of them
I’d just lose out on more better ideas
Anyway enough about me, how are you doing?
Oh shit your grandma died ?
What the fuck you can’t just spring that on me
we were supposed to catch up and laugh and
prove our goodness to eachother
You’re completely ruining this for me, i’m sorry
I can’t talk to you right now
Ok now that’s out of the way, I can at least get back
to my essay
JESUS CHRIST ITS 1AM THEY’RE DUE IN 7 HOURS
THE HIGH IS GONE MY BRAIN IS MUSH
WHY DIDN’T I ASK FOR AN EXTENSION
I’m an idiot, this always happens
I knew I should’ve gone to clown school
I’m not supposed to be here,
I’m not interested in this shit
Just because I liked a kurzgesagt video
doesn’t mean i’m passionate about fucking economics
All the ideas were stupid and drugged up
What am I supposed to do
with three pages of ideas for tv shows
That all have to do with amelia earhart
Ok ok no
this isn’t productive.
Everyone makes mistakes
This will be the last time
I procrastinate ever
Yeah, i’m glad i’m in this situation! this has shown me the errors of my ways
You gotta push your limits to break them, right?
i’ve turned a new leaf
Where did I put my juul?
Nothing to see here... pick again.