Apocalypse neg

Are you a ladyboy?

Guest post: DrunkenBaker’s Glory

Last Friday night I was idling in my mate’s house when I got a text message from DrunkenBaker. Within seconds I was phoning him. “Is it true?” I screamed… “really, honestly?… tell me you didn’t make it up”. DrunkenBaker had just hid the motherlode and had the most amazing SNL sexual encounter of his life. I was in awe. This is a man who 6 months ago had low self esteem and was mourning the split up with his LTR and wondering ‘what he could end up with online’. I introduced him to Game and he was skeptical at first… but rapidly converted. See his previous post.

Well my friends.. now he has come of age. He has pulled of a masterful feat, and I’ve convinced him to describe it to you in his own words. We begin…

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Guest post by DrunkenBaker.

I’m walking on sunshine, oh yeaaaahhhh, I’m walking on sunshine….
Oh, hello there. You’re probably wondering why I’m so happy right now. Well, that’s because I’ve just had one of the most erotic experiences of my life – and it was all thanks to Game Theory. I had one of the best experiences of my life on Friday night, and it was all thanks to using techniques I have learnt that our media and culture brainwashes us into thinking could never possibly achieve success with women. However, they do, dear reader, they do.

Let’s get to the point. A few weeks ago I was introduced to a Chinese girl by an old university friend – they work together. She’s a rich Chinese and went to international school so very western in her personality. I lived in China for a long time and speak the lingo very well, and my friend introduced me as “the guy who speaks better Chinese than you”. We all had a few drinks and I kept in touch with her by email – a few flirty emails here and there – and we arranged to meet for a drink on Friday. She has a longterm live-in boyfriend who she has a joint mortgage with, but they haven’t been getting on and I could sense that she might “go over”.

We meet in an Irish Bar and I do massive DHVing by commenting (but not too much) on my knowledge of China, and dropping in a few references to whether I think Asian girls are better in bed then Western girls (it’s Asian in case you’re wondering). There is a lot of hair touching from her and IOIs, so I start thinking: “What would be the best place to totally game a girl?” I don’t know how many of you live in London, but there is a very infamous place called The Griffin in Farringdon. Basically, The Griffin is a sordid little pub that looks like something out of the 1970s. There is a small stage where very fit Eastern European women do full-on stripteases. This isn’t your Spearmint Rhino kind of place. The girls come round before their dance with a pint glass which one is supposed to pop a pound coin into, and when they are on stage they get quite playful with themselves. It is also quite a low stage with no barrier, so in the words of one of my friends, “You can get so close, you can practically smell ‘em.”

You can actually smell ‘em.

My logic was thus. I take her to an exciting place which she has never been before where the lack of attention shown to her and the inferiority which will be instilled in her by seeing so many better looking women will combine to form a powerful cocktail. By God, it worked. Within two dances she was desperate for my attention; facing me with her cleavage and kinoing me in order to get my attention. I played hard and just responded with comments on how the girls on stage were better looking than her, than after about half an hour bounced her into a taxi. As soon as we hit the taxi she was all over me and necking with me hard. The plan was to go to Ronnie Scotts in Soho, but she was sick within minutes of entering so we sat on the kerbside in Soho Square. After very small dose of me teasing her that western guys had bigger dicks than Chinese guys, she pounced on me again, and before I knew what was happening she had unfastened my belt and was frantically giving me a handjob whilst kissing my chest. A few passers-by could see what was happening but I was enjoying myself too much to care. I came all over the road and as soon as I was done she asked me if I had any left in me for a fuller session. I needed a couple of minutes so we walked to an off-licence, bought some cigarettes, then she pushed me into a phone box and I had my first ever public sex. Once it was all done, I told her I should be off home, popped her in a taxi (making sure I was in control and keeping my distance as one should when playing longterm game) and went home a happy man. Leaving like that was also the right move, as she’s been texting since then and doesn’t show any signs of buyer’s remorse, rather she appears hungry for more naughty liaisons.

It was a magical evening for me, and I can only put it down to understanding the psyche of women as Game has taught me, and coming up with the idea of The Griffin at the right time for the right girl. Everything society tells us would indicate that this approach shouldn’t work, but of course we all know better than that. Boys, get out there and smell ‘em.

slut

I fuck a fat black whore.

As part of my new Snapback recovery program I’ve decided to fuck whores to try and release some Beta-rage and maybe kid my elephant that it’s getting sex.

I’m browsing the goods on www.adultwork.com and see this whore in Lewisham who looks fairly decent at £100 an hour:

if this is your sister pls get me a discount.

£100 an hour! And that’s cheap. For primarily unskilled work requiring no qualifications it truly sickens me. Back in the day in China I’d pay £30 for an hour with a babe who would be grateful of my custom.

I ring this whore up and she’s not working tonight. Damn. I do some browsing on Punternet (one of the reasons why the web should exist. Fuck you Harriet Harman)  and find there’s a ‘parlour’ up the road in New Cross. I pop my trainers on and head out. It doesn’t really fit my plan of finding a gorgeous fit, big and firm titted girl to regularly bang but I really feel like getting up to some mischief so go for it. Arriving at the location after a long walk it’s a crappy dilapidated flat. The girl who shows me in weighs more than me. After obviously consuming nothing but watermelon and Maltesers for her whole life she now resembles a mutated cross between the two, albeit wearing a pink baby-doll negligee. She’s fat. A fat black mamma.

I considered leaving but on reflection, what the hell it was a long walk, may as well clean out the pipes. I fork over my sixty quid and get ready for action. Now I’ve previously had a few whoring experiences in the UK which were so singularly unerotic I was unable to achieve any form of erection so I must admit this was playing on my mind a little. It really didn’t help either when I realised this girl actually had a passing facial resemblance to the black security guard who used to work at an office I worked at years ago. It was like having him staring at me, wearing a baby-doll negligee. This was not proving very arousing but unfortunately I had contacts in so couldn’t resort to taking off my glasses to get a nice blur. Instead I hit on the plan of simply avoid looking at her face.

Luckily for me she starts by licking and sucking my nipples, my number one thing which can turn me on. I’m quite surprised as most western whores don’t go in for this but this one certainly does. She’s learned the lesson that most Chinese prositutes know: sucking a guys nipples is an easier and more hygenic way to get him hard than sucking his cock. I have a good old suck on her quite big tits and to my delight find I have a workable erection. Like lightning she whips on a condom and mounts me. The condom seems to be made of asbestos and she has a fanny like a wellington boot so I’m feeling no more down there than, say, rubbing myself against a door handle. I flip her over and start rutting on her from ontop. At this point the deadly Condom Clock is ticking. The rubber is killing all sensation so it’s a race against time to fuck violently and fast enough to get enough sensation to the member to actually be able to orgasm. Condoms are truly shit and truly ruin sex but I’m not insane enough to consider fucking a whore without one.

I’m going to need extra help to blow my load at this point so I start desperately running through fantasies in my head. I dig out the old “Massa of the Plantation” classic.

It begins..

I’m riding my white stallion through the cotton fields one day and notice a chubby, big-titted slave picking cotton. My frigid, highly strung, Catholic wife is not giving me any sex so my tight, white riding pants are bursting with unfulfilled Massa-meat. I’ve tied my horse up and made it quite clear that slave-girl is to accompany me into the long reeds where I will pound her. At some point she objects so I darkly threaten to have her “ole pappa” thrown out on his ear and to have her husband whipped. She’s still reticent but I produce a huge, delicious slice of watermelon from my saddle-bag. “Yes, it’s all for you” I tell her greedy eyes. She follows me into the reeds and I shove her to the ground, paw at her dress and then with my riding pants barely half down mount her and start pumping away deliriously. I mentally merge this fantasy into me rutting ontop of this obese Malteser and feel quite good about the whole thing. My Johnson is tingling and I’m quietly confident I’m heading for ejaculation.

I decide to go for another fantasy. After all, it’s my treat. In this one I’m working in a big company with a diverse, reverse-racist, graduate recruitment scheme and there’s a grad on placement in my office who is a strapping African girl. Educated and eloquent she’s working on Unix support and doing a reasonable job. She’s smartly presented and wears a white blouse and nicely cut trousers which can’t help buy accentuate her big bubble butt. She doesn’t know that many people in the office and is pleased at the attention I give her, although obviously I’m pretty Alpha and have high value as the acknoweleded programming-guru of the office. I boss her about a bit and neg her, blah blah blah, and finally after wining and dining her and massively DHV’ing myself I end up taking her home and seducing her. As soon as the seduction starts all her professionalism goes out of the window and she goes all super African-girl on me and talking in a dodgy Nigerian accent. She tries some LMR and I slap her ass and throw her on the bed, telling her I know what black girls like. After multiple hours of me worshipping her ass, rimming her and finger-fucking her to numerous orgasms I finally mount her violently and start pounding her. At this point I again merge the fantasy into me currently pumping the black space-hopper. I cunningly have her bent right over in a way where it’s hard to see how fat she is and I can’t easily see her face. I look away and just look enough out of the corner of my eye enough to see her black skin next to mine. It’s Amaleisha! the sexy African graduate recruit… and I’m pounding her. Awesome. This does the truck and I shudderingly blow my load up the whore.

I lie there sweating for a minute, have a chat and giggle with Malteser a little bit then head off. Walking home I’m pleased to find that I feel pretty good about it. I do have that light feeling in my body which you get from releasing some sexual tension on a real female. I actually feel pretty jolly. On the way back I notice a very dodgy looking shop with a sex-shop style double door and become excited that it’s another brothel. I google the address when I get home and am sickened to find out it’s actually a homo’s bumming-den.

In all it wasn’t really a quality sexual encounter but I think the sordidness of it actually turned me on. Crappy little brothels and obese women are not really a good plan and are in fact dreadful value for money. Over at Admiral Escorts 150 large can buy you an hour with this:

Eases the pain.

Airbrushed fo fuck but still hung like a frigging dairy-cow and her shits are probably hotter than Malteser.

Blowing off a load of dick snot and feeling spritely afterwards only served to remind me of how utterly life-changing getting multi-week, high quality, free sex from a girl you like and find highly sexually attractive is. Unfortunately despite having had that before I find the thought of having it again a million miles away from my reality. I may as well imagine walking on the moon. I just find it so incredibly, terribly difficult to visualise this because I want it so badly and getting it seems an almost insurmountable task. This is the power of experience:

Years since age 17 not having regular high-quality sex: 16 years 4 months

Years since age 17 having regular high-quality sex: 1 yr 8 months

You can understand why I’m finding this difficult.

Epilogue:

What happened to Massa?

Having abused one slave girl too many his slaves stage a revolt. Kidnapped from his colonial mansion one humid night at full moon, he is strung up in the trees where the slave’s blind old crone witch doctor pulls his guts out and winds them round a stick. His balls are then chopped off with a machete and boiled in a pot and all the slaves drink it. Believing it to have magical JuJu power they have a massive, hysterical orgy on the spot. They then roast and eat Massa, however the witch doctor chops off his head for herself, shrinks it and keeps it as a trinket. Struck down with grief Massa’s widow finds solace talking each day to Liberty, her six and a half foot 23 year old Nigerian slave gardener. Over time, half mad with grief and becoming a semi-alcoholic, she lures Liberty into the maze and incites him to ravage her like an animal. Thereafter she continues a mad, lustful affair with Liberty and his massive ten inch cock, often worshipping it and making him slap her in the face with it when he has a semi. Finally one day, sick with shame and lust she shoots him in the groin with Massa’s old Confederate .45 revolver and as he lies bleeding and weeping she puts it in her mouth and pulls the trigger.

I actually like to think of Massa’s upcoming grisly end at the same time as running the initial part of the fantasy, and to be honest it quite turns me on. Live Massa! Live free!

What about Bhodissata and Amaleisha?

There’s an uncomfortable silence between them for days, which Bhodi breaks by forcing Amaleisha to accompany him to Depford’s premier Nigerian restaurant. Stuffing her with food and being DHV’ed by the owner the ice breaks. Bhodisatta finds he actually quite likes Amaleisha and finds himself asking her to the movies. Over the next few weeks they find themselves dating regularly and engaging in a journey of black and white sexual discovery. They end up dating for a few months and having a good time, although things finally start to go wrong. Amaleisha starts to get cold feet about what her parents back in Africa will think about her cracker boyfriend and the potential half white chillen. Will her African genes be strong enough to overcome the sickly, weak, weasely white DNA and produce healthy children who can dance properly? She also questions if Bhodisatta will accompany her back to Africa in the future, to which he replies “I would rather die on a spit”. The cultural question is to great to surmount and they decide to split but remain good friends. They still chat on Facebook.

This is (one of the things) that’s wrong with the community

I recently had a comment posted on an old post about me sort of NLP’ing a girl at a wedding. You can read the original post here.

Hey man

I actually replied to this on LSS.

In case you did not see it, here is the post.

Hey

I read a post on here earlier about a dude who used a Speed Seduction pattern. I read the whole thing on hos blog.

The post is;

[he pastes my whole post in here]

OK my take on it. Firstly well done it does seem like you got the girl into a great state. However I do think you did too much of the work and you did not allow the girl to experience the emotion as much as she could of.

What you did is very much the old method of SS, i.e. you talk a girl into a feeling/emotion/experience. The new model of SS (the the type of stuff I aactually do) is much more effective.

You probably did manage to throw her into a mild trance, which is cool, but you described what she experienced. It is much more powerful if you get her to experience what it was like. By this I mean, instead of you telling her what it was like, ask her what the experience was like. When someone describes something they need to go back into the memory. Also you do not know what was the most important part of the experience for her. For example when she went to the beach it could be a number of things that generated the best emotion. It could have been getting there, feeling the sand between her toes, looking at the sunset, being with her friends etc etc.

Does this make sense?

I will make some future posts on this subject later and break down how I really get people to describe things in their own words and get them to experience the emotion/s.

Matt

After  mulling it over I think this is a good example of what’s wrong with the Game community. Told randoms acting like experts and giving unasked for feedback framing themselves as superior. Who is this guy? Even if he is an expert  I never asked for his opinion. Oh and guess what.. I’m using the “old style” Speed Seduction, not the new style, which he happens to teach. Go to a few sites, look for newbies, leave a few posts, which by they way ping-back to your own site…

The forums are the same. A load of terribly insecure men writing posts and a load of terribly insecure men acting like experts and adding feedback and telling them what to do and trying to carve a reputation for themselves. How many of them actually have proof of their skills? Check out Krauser’s blog. He has proof and a half. If I ever have success I won’t need any proof because after the regular demolition jobs I do on myself here I can’t imagine anyone thinks I’d make stuff up.

In short this culture of unasked-for feedback sickens me. If I you’re a regular reader or I know you and value your suggestions then go for it. You know who you are. Otherwise fuck off.

Krausertude

Anyone been following the goings-on over at Krauser’s blog? It’s gone wild! The guy has entered some kind of mythical Golden period. He’s boning teenage virgins. He did a Muslim girl in the arse. He’s on fire! Truly tales any man can be proud of.

Just coming out a period of total depression, sad Beta-Rage and failure I actually became so sick with jealousy I found myself unable to continue reading his blog. I  unsubscribed to it. My jealousy was further fueled by the fact that I was gaming with Krauser not too many months ago and he didn’t seem to have any magical powers. I think I had more success day-gaming that day than him.

How does he do it? One theory of mine was that after having his heart mortally wounded with a failed 8-year marriage he has systematically engaged in a campaign to squash every last ounce of humanity out of his soul, turning himself into a cold, heartless game-machine where all relationships are highly controlled and said heart has no chance of every being exposed again. Reading his blog it does seem a bit machine-like, the high volume approaches, the legwork, the routines. Perhaps my failings are just that I have too much heart. Maybe deep inside I’m just the sensitive type?

Whatever saddo. One things for sure: he is fucking large amounts of hot young women and I am not. He’s done massive amounts of work and has scary-level commitment. Furthermore I’m only recently becoming aware of my massive capacity for self-delusion. Sensitive? Maybe… but read the last post and decide who has the most fucked-up attitude to women and is generally the most sick in the head. I bet you if I actually had some success and actually, really,got to fuck a few attractive women I’d like womankind in general an awful lot more.

Head over and check out his site. It’s a bit boasty and listy but he’s never promised more and it’s hard, solid proof of someone achieving success with Game that most LSS forum-dwelling twats can only dream of.

Snapback

This is my first serious post in around five weeks. If you’re still checking this blog regularly then more the fool you thanks. Apparently about 25 of you a day are doing so. Where have I been? I’ve been encountering something I’m going to call Snapback.

The short version of the theory goes like this:

• You live for many years with a belief set X (negative) and generally being an unhappy, bitter, negative twat.
• You engage on a ‘life changing journey’ and get into Game for a few months. Your brain is flooded with new positive beliefs and attitudes and you strive to try and actualise life-change.
• You’re pulling yourself away from where you normally lie…..
• tension builds…..
• SNAP! your inner elephant RIPS you violently back to where you were. But it gets worse, like a piece of recoiling elastic you go back beyond and out of the other side!

Which in sum means for the last 5 or so weeks I’ve had a kind of little mini-nervous breakdown. Ta da! I basically lost the plot. Since early July I’ve gone through a rollercoaster of depression, binge-eating and crash weight gain, misery, psychosis and periods of intense scary rage attacks. Luxury!

It took me a few weeks to work out what was going on and why my life seeemed to have fallen apart but I finally realised my old friend Depression was back on the scene.

Handy tips to show you’re depressed:

• Constant fatigue, despite sleeping a lot.
• Obsession with getting more and more sleep each night
• Scary binging on junk food, sugar and caffeine
• Unenjoyable excess masturbation (anything for a gram of serontonin)
• Total disinterest in anything
• Inability to function at work, function outside of work (go shopping, pay bills, etc)
• Utter, endless misery and unhappiness
• Rage
• Self destructive behaviour

I’ve had a long history with depression, having been depressed pretty much constantly from the age of 17 to 24 and then intermittently for periods of up to a year at points thereafter. The benefit of this is that I can recognise when it returns. It’s a sly little beast.

This period has been particularly bad and I attribute this to Snapback. I genuinely think my psyche has violently reacted to being pulled away from the norm and the counter-reaction has been intense.

I’m coming out of it now, I can feel it lifting, so it’s easier to analyze it. I’ve learned something really interesting and scary about human minds. Now I’m probably going to make myself sound schizoprenic here and maybe scare some people that I know but what this depression has reinforced for me is the rider and elephant theory of the brain. It’s actually taken it to a new level. I now feel that the human brain is more like multiple facets of the same personality within one brain.

The way I can describe depression is almost like an out of body experience. Like you are trapped within looking out at your own hands as some part of you takes control. You can be sitting there, gorging on your third 500g bar of Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut, not enjoying it and not wanting it yet totally helpless to stop this weird possessed body from gorging on it. It’s a loss of control. The rider doesn’t have the reins, the drug (screwed up brain chemicals) crazed elephant does… and it’s running amok.

It’s like having two personalities. A terrible, negative, impulsive one and a rational, weak, more logical and positive one. For most periods the latter is in control but with a period like I’ve just gone through the bad one takes control.

The rage and aggression have been the worst thing. In hindsight I’m pretty sure that nearly all of it’s sexual frustration. Beta Rage. The rage of the Beta with no hole to pump. Sure, anger is generated by genuine means (e.g. someone shoves in front of you in a queue, whatever) but the reaction of the brooding sexless Beta is to tremble, grind the teeth, swear under the breath then imagine repeatedly stabbing them in the neck with a biro, stamping on their face then spitting on their corpse, whereas the reaction of the man who is having hard, deeply satisfying sex three times a week with a 20 year old Japanese model is to chirpily declare “C’est la vie!” and think about puppies and daffodils.

Total utter lack of sex + depression = scary amounts of Beta Rage.

In fact I’ve been pretty much a rage monster the last month. To be totally honest I’d have to admit that most of this has been directed against women.  To be honest I hated women before I started Game and for a few months I encountered the novel experience of not doing so. During Snapback, well, oh my god, the Hate reached new levels. For five weeks I’ve literally despised all of femalekind. The kind of constant hate-filled monologue running in my head has not been the most well-balanced of musings.

Here’s some tips to spot if you, too, are having a Snapback nervous breakdown:

• You are reading Anthony Beevor’s “Berlin” on the tube and get to a bit about how Russian soldiers sweeping across Germany in 1945 raped and massacred the German women and you laugh out loud and think “Good. Serves the bitches right”.
• You see a couple of pretty young girls walking along laughing with each other and you think “Fucking bitches. I hope they get run over by a steamroller. Oh how I’d laugh. Oh yes.. how I’d laugh. Not have a chance to play games with men then would you you little whores? Ha ha ha (scary laugh to self)”.
• Sitting in the office, incapable of working, you while away the time wondering what weapon would be best to go on a shooting spree. Maybe a Thompson submachine-gun for that retro touch? Or for novetly value perhaps a WWII flamethrower?
• You suddenly notice one day you are talking to yourself out loud.
• Without any idea why you are doing so you go into Marks & Spencer, buy a massive box of cream cakes then go down by the river and sit eating them, weeping as you stuff them into your face. Afterwards you try to make yourself sick and fail.
• You suddenly notice one day you are swearing out loud.
• You lie on the floor staring at the wall for hours, unable to move.
• You suddenly notice one day you are laughing out loud for no reason.
• You become filled with a burning, murderous bitterness over the tiniest things. Marks & Spencer put the orange juice up by 25p? CUNTS. I HOPE THEY FUCKING DIE. I’d love to go to head office with an RPG and a Stetchkin machine-pistol and show those fuckers a thing or two.
• You become obsessed with weird things. Joe Satriani is a genius. I hate those cunts in Coldplay for ripping him off. Stuck up snobby middle class cock, marrying some fucking annoying shit movie star. She was ok in ‘The Royal Tannenbaums’ but I hated ‘Sliding Doors’. Calling his kid stupid names. Fuckers. How dare they steal The Maestro’s work like that. Wouldn’t be so clever with a bayonet in his neck would he? I’d love to get an M16A1 with a 100 round Beta-mag* and blah blah blah, etc, etc.

Not really normal is it? Yes, I know thanks and I’m not happy about it either. Pills? Medications? I’m kind of thinking now that maybe that would have been the best thing to do. However the unfortunate problem is these things takes weeks to kick in and doctors in this country are shit and having to face all the banal, insulting questions like “are you sure you’re not just down in the dumps” horrifies me. However, in hindsight I believe walking around for five weeks wanting to die and/or murder everyone is not a good thing so next time this happens I’m making a beeline for the happy pills.

What happens now?

I’d like to think it’s over. I hope it is. It feels like the worst is over and the smoke is beginning to clear. It seems to be burning out. I don’t have the energy for all the rage anymore. I feel like I’m slowly starting to regain control. If this doesn’t continue I’m off for some pills.

To try and help the situation I’ve finally grabbed enough of the helm-controls back to implement a few course corrections:

• I’m going to go to the gym every lunchtime
• Start trying to give up the mood altering binge foods: sugar and caffeine. As a start switch to bingeing on savoury food. (I’ve been here before, that’s a good start)
• 2 weeks 2 days without chocolate (the most dangerous of all legal mood-altering substances)
• Find a fit whore with big, firm tits and fuck her once a fortnight. It’s not as good as “free” but may help.
• Go on a sex holiday
• Start this blog again
• Get out of London more
• Sign up for online dating. It’s not my ultimate goal but I’ll pump anything at the minute to help with the rage levels.
• Start boxing or Muay Thai classes. Hit things and be hit. Helps with the Beta-rage.
• Start gaming again.

The last one is the hardest. The house of cards I’d built from February to June now lies somewhat  higglety-pigglety. I really don’t feel in any way in the right mindset to begin gaming again. I’m struggling to be positive. However, I need to fight through this and accept it’s a bitter pill and that it will do me good. I don’t expect to pull from it but just getting out, meeting new people and having the odd rewarding chat with a woman will be worth it. I think it’ll help.

I do feel pretty shattered into pieces by The Snapback. Do I blame Game? No. I blame my own abnormal brain and mental illness. I’m still glad I did Game. I’d like to try give it another chance. It’s important because I feel I’m at a post-Snapback crossroads:

• Get into Game again
• Give up, decide I’m too fucked-up for it, do online dating or go off live in Asia and live the Beta-dream

The second one seems a cop-out. Oh Bhodisatta! Don’t forget what the Great Experiment is! You need to give it a fair chance. One more go… please elephant… just give me one more go.

*it’s really called that. What more appropriate automatic weapon feed-system could there be for a Beta-rage rampage?