Date: Sat, 31 Oct 2020 00:19:32 +0000 (UTC)
From: ianwycim@yahoo.com
Subject: Rapid Descent from Person to Cock Socket

The privilege of being owned, used, and controlled by BoyGod comes with
what may appear at first blush to be a steep price, until radical
acceptance (i.e., total, complete, irreversible, irrevocable acceptance)
instead makes it a dream come true. i quickly and willingly relinquished my
role as an individual person to become His cock socket -- literally, not
metaphorically; not occasionally, but daily; on demand around the clock, as
He sees fit. It sounds like hyperbole, but His needs and desires are so
central to my functioning and existence, there's no more appropriate
description. Whichever socket He wants, He gets, and His ownership of both
is unconditional.

Everything in the Universe is either BoyGod or not BoyGod, and the latter
is of interest to me solely to the extent it pleases BoyGod.

His awareness of His own perfection and natural entitlement combined with
His precocious, prodigy-like sexual prowess nearly instantly made him a
walking, talking pheromone tsunami, sweeping away the person i once was,
before i even grasped the change. i exist to receive Him, and for no other
purpose.

Before judging my existence as a receptacle, one must consider the process
that makes it so, and imagine the experience of pleasing a being whose
unmatched confidence is so completely justified. Being used by BoyGod --
His mind, coloring, voice, movements, torso, neck, eyes, smile, hands,
thighs*, waist, forearms, biceps, ball sac, and magnificent penis -- is not
unlike getting plentiful sweet, creamy, silken Dilaudid injections, but
with no risk of harm. Addiction: without remedy. Harm: none.

Every relentless pounding, every stranglefuck, every skullfuck, each and
every thrust, helps fulfill my destiny. When BoyGod pulsates inside me, and
my food shoots into me, i cry tears of joy that my place in the universe is
finally clear; it is no longer a mystery, and i am exactly where I belong.
At first, i feared its size and His raw force, but His mastery compelled me
to turn over control to an extent i thought only existed in fiction. He
plays my body and mind the way a prodigy plays a musical instrument. As i
learned from The Mantra, i am the holes for His cock, and i am nothing
without His cock inside me. He is God Almighty. i am His piece of meat. He
God. i meat. He God. i meat. He God. i meat... (See The Mantra.)

Another Nifty Archives author recently used the phrase "sub-human rape
meat" -- and maybe that's a synonym for cock socket. It feels more
accurate, though, to describe the rapid onset of an overpowering
realization, "His penis, this is what God is, this is the embodiment of
human perfection" that persists throughout my entire being 24/7/365, even
more completely than blood, because blood only permeates the physical,
while BoyGod overtakes every dimension: physical, mental, emotional, and
spiritual.

i reported to BoyGod that the recipient at Nifty Archives required more
before posting this; BoyGod instantly laughed and posited (without even a
hint of arrogance) that a post about my descent from individual person to
cock socket may be of comparatively little interest to readers without
including more about Him. He then offered, matter-of-factly [and i
paraphrase]: a lived experience filled with sincere compliments and praise,
genuine attraction and adoration; from friends and loved ones,
acquaintances, and even countless strangers, inevitably reinforces a unique
view of Self, others, and the world. Rather than unjustified entitlement,
an inescapable and irrefutable logic emerges about genuinely deserving
worship, especially after having so many people (irrespective of gender,
age, or social status) willingly debase themselves solely for immediate
physical intimacy.

(i've witnessed this on many occasions; BoyGod is, in fact, accustomed to
being idolized, frequently serviced, and routinely turning away "surplus"
sexual supplicants.)

*especially when BoyGod's thighs are crossed and wrapped tightly around my
neck, controlling my gaze and my air flow as i bathe his silken ball sac
and then fellate Him with abandon, until He simultaneously pulsates in,
shoots into, and floods my skull, i.e., the moments of extreme, nearly
unfathomable privilege

Comments to ianwycim@yahoo.com.

Stories:
The Hierarchy (filed in Authoritarian)
The Mantra (filed in Urination, etc.)
Secretly 'Til Now (filed in Authoritarian)
BoyGod (filed in Authoritarian)

(i am stunned by the number of people who actually spent time to write and
send e-mail messages to this simple cock socket, indicating how much you
enjoy my reports. these messages mean more than i can adequately express.)

© 2020 ian wycim