Science == miracles on demand. *SHOW ME* anything else so worthy of my faith. SERIOUSLY.
Hey, I just healed an amputee; I used a prosthetic limb. And, yes, I prayed that fucker into existence.
Rob Malda is a 26-year old white male with a stocky build and a beard. His head is shaved. He responded to my ad to be interviewed for this article wearing only leather pants, leather boots and a leather vest. I could see that both of his nipples were pierced with large-gauge silver rings.
Questioner: I hope you won't be offended if I ask you to prove to me that you're a nullo. Just so that our readers will know that this isn't a fake.
Rob: Sure, no problem. (stands and unbuckles pants and drops them to his ankles, revealing a smooth, shaven crotch with only a thin scar to show where his genitals once were).
Q: Thank you. That's a remarkable sight.
(laughs and pulls pants back up). Most people think so.
Q: What made you decide to become a nullo?
(pauses). Well, it really wasn't entirely my decision.
Q: Excuse me?
The idea wasn't mine. It was my lover's idea.
Q: Please explain what you mean.
Okay, it's a long story. You have to understand my relationship with Michael before you'll know what happened.
Q: We have plenty of time. Please go on.
Both of us were into the leather lifestyle when we met through a personal ad. Michael's ad was very specific: he was looking for someone to completely dominate and modify to his pleasure. In other word, a slave.
The ad intrigued me. I had been in a number of B&D scenes and also some S&M, but I found them unsatisfying because they were all temporary. After the fun was over, everybody went on with life as usual.
I was looking for a complete life change. I wanted to meet someone who would be part of my life forever. Someone who would control me and change me at his whim.
Q: In other words, you're a true masochist.
Oh yes, no doubt about that. I've always been totally passive in my sexual relationships.
Anyway, we met and there was instant chemistry. Michael is a few years older than me and very good looking. Our personalities meshed totally. He's very dominant.
I went back to his place after drinks and had the best sex of my life. That's when I knew I was going to be with Michael for a long, long time.
Q: What sort of things did you two do?
It was very heavy right away. He restrained me and whipped me for quite awhile. He put clamps on my nipples and a ball gag in my mouth. And he hung a ball bag on my sack with some very heavy weights. That bag really bounced around when Michael fucked me from behind.
Q: Ouch.
(laughs) Yeah, no kidding. At first I didn't think I could take the pain, but Michael worked me through it and after awhile I was flying. I was sorry when it was over.
Michael enjoyed it as much as I did. Afterwards he talked about what kind of a commitment I'd have to make if I wanted to stay with him.
Q: What did he say exactly?
Well, besides agreeing to be his slave in every way, I'd have to be ready to be modified. To have my body modified.
Q: Did he explain what he meant by that?
Not specifically, but I got the general idea. I guessed that something like castration might be part of it.
Q: How did that make you feel?
(laughs) I think it would make any guy a little hesitant.
Q: But it didn't stop you from agreeing to Michael's terms?
No it didn't. I was totally hooked on this man. I knew that I was willing to pay any price to be with him.
Anyway, a few days later I moved in with Michael. He gave me the rules right away: I'd have to be naked at all times while we were indoors, except for a leather dog collar that I could never take off. I had to keep my head shaved. And I had to wear a butt plug except when I needed to take a shit or when we were having sex.
I had to sleep on the floor next to his bed. I ate all my food on the floor, too.
The next day he took me to a piercing parlor where he had my nipples done, and a Prince Albert put into the head of my cock.
Q: Heavy stuff.
Yeah, and it got heavier. He used me as a toilet, pissing in my mouth. I had to lick his asshole clean after he took a shit, too. It was all part of a process to break down any sense of individuality I had. After awhile, I wouldn't hesitate to do anything he asked.
Q: Did the sex get rougher?
Oh God, yeah. He started fisting me every time we had sex. But he really started concentrating on my cock and balls, working them over for hours at a time.
He put pins into the head of my cock and into my sack. He attached clothespins up and down my cock and around my sack. The pain was pretty bad. He had to gag me to keep me from screaming.
Q: When did the idea of nullification come up?
Well, it wasn't nullification at first. He started talking about how I needed to make a greater commitment to him, to do something to show that I was dedicated to him for life.
When I asked him what he meant, he said that he wanted to take my balls.
Q: How did you respond?
Not very well at first. I told him that I liked being a man and didn't want to become a eunuch. But he kept at me, and wore me down. He reminded me that I agreed to be modified according to his wishes, and this is what he wanted for me. Anything less would show that I wasn't really committed to the relationship. And besides, I was a total bottom and didn't really need my balls.
It took about a week before I agreed to be castrated. But I wasn't happy about it, believe me.
Q: How did he castrate you?
Michael had a friend who was into the eunuch scene. One night he came over with his bag of toys, and Michael told me that this was it. I was gonna lose my nuts then and there.
Q: Did you think of resisting?
I did for a minute, but deep down I knew there was no way. I just didn't want to lose Michael. I'd rather lose my balls.
Michael's friend restrained me on the living room floor while Michael videotaped us. He used an elastrator to put a band around my sack.
Q: That must have really hurt.
Hell yeah. It's liked getting kicked in the balls over and over again. I screamed for him to cut the band off, but he just kept on going, putting more bands on me. I had four bands around my sack when he finished.
I was rolling around on the floor screaming, while Michael just videotaped me. Eventually, my sack got numb and the pain subsided. I looked between my legs and could see my sack was a dark purple. I knew my balls were dying inside.
Michael and his friend left the room and turned out the light. I lay there for hours, crying because I was turning into a eunuch and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
Q: What happened then?
Eventually I fell asleep from exhaustion. Then the light switched on and I could see Michael's friend kneeling between my legs, touching my sack. I heard him tell Michael that my balls were dead.
Q: How did Michael react?
Very pleased. He bent down and felt around my sack. He said that it felt cold.
Michael's friend told me that I needed to keep the bands on. He said that eventually my balls and sack would dry up and fall off. I just nodded. What else could I do at that point?
Q: Did it happen just like Michael's friend said?
Yeah, a week or so later my package just fell off. Michael put it in a jar of alcohol to preserve it. It's on the table next to his bed.
Q: How did things go after that?
Michael was really loving to me. He kept saying how proud he was of me, how grateful that I had made the commitment to him. He even let me sleep in his bed.
Q: What about the sex?
We waited awhile after my castration, and then took it easy until I was completely healed. At first I was able to get hard, but as the weeks went by my erections began to disappear.
That pleased Michael. He liked fucking me and feeling my limp cock. It made his dominance over me even greater.
Q: When did he start talking about making you a nullo?
A couple of months after he took my nuts. Our sex had gotten to be just as rough as before the castration. He really got off on torturing my cock. Then he started saying stuff like, "Why do you even need this anymore?"
That freaked me out. I always thought that he might someday take my balls, but I never imagined that he'd go all the way. I told him that I wanted to keep my dick.
Q: How did he react to that?
At first he didn't say much. But he kept pushing. Michael said I would look so nice being smooth between my legs. He said my dick was small and never got hard anymore, so what was the point of having it.
But I still resisted. I wanted to keep my cock. I felt like I wouldn't be a man anymore without it.
Q: So how did he get you to agree?
He didn't. He took it against my will.
Q: How did that happen?
We were having sex in the basement, and I was tied up and bent over this wooden bench as he fucked me. Then I heard the doorbell ring. Michael answered it, and he brought this guy into the room.
At first I couldn't see anything because of the way I was tied. But then I felt these hands lift me up and put me on my back. And I could see it was Michael's friend, the guy who took my nuts.
Q: How did you react?
I started screaming and crying, but the guy just gagged me. The two of them dragged me to the other side of the room where they tied me spread eagled on the floor.
Michael's friend snaked a catheter up my dick, and gave me a shot to numb my crotch. I was grateful for that, at least. I remember how bad it hurt to lose my balls.
Q: What was Michael doing at this time?
He was kneeling next to me talking quietly. He said I'd be happy that they were doing this. That it would make our relationship better. That kind of calmed me down. I thought, "Well, maybe it won't be so bad."
Q: How long did the penectomy take?
It took awhile. Some of the penis is inside the body, so he had to dig inside to get all of it. There was a lot of stitching up and stuff. He put my cock in the same jar with my balls. You can even see the Prince Albert sticking out of the head.
Then they made me a new pisshole. It's between my asshole and where my sack used to be. So now I have to squat to piss.
Q: What has life been like since you were nullified?
After I got over the surgery and my anger, things got better. When I healed up, I began to like my smooth look. Michael brought friends over and they all admired it, saying how pretty I looked. It made me feel good that Michael was proud of me.
Q: Do you have any sexual feeling anymore?
Yes, my prostate still responds when Michael fucks me or uses the buttplug. And my nipples are quite sensitive. If Michael plays with them while fucking me, I have a kind of orgasm. It's hard to describe, but it's definitely an orgasm.
Sometimes Michael says he's gonna have my prostate and nipples removed, but he's just kidding around. He's happy with what he's done to me.
Q: So are you glad Michael had you nullified?
Well, I wouldn't say I'm glad. If I could, I'd like to have my cock and balls back. But I know that I'm a nullo forever. So I'm making the best of it.
Michael and I are very happy. I know that he'll take care of me and we'll be together always. I guess losing my manhood was worth it to make that happen for us.
I am so glad my "inner voice" stopped me from entering my debit card info to join
I am a sociopath, troll, insane, and otherwise undesirable. The only thing I could think of that limited my matches was that I checked "not religious and not spiritual". I didn't even say that my match had to be the same. I answered the question honestly which is what I thought I was supposed to do. I had heard a few rumors in the past that EH is largely based on religion. Factor in some of the posts on this website talking about getting 100's of matches vs. my 7, I believe those rumors to be true.
I was really excited about
Few today haven't felt the touch of censorship that is Michael Sims's modus operandi. Anything labelled subversive by this fascist editor is immediately moderated to -1 and its poster's account subjected to all sorts of terrible modifications meant to make it impossible to reveal the truth about Michael Sims. Truth that I, in this exposé, will reveal to you.
Having killed his mother in childbirth, Michael was left with only his father to raise him, a man with well-documented social disorders and sick sexual fetishes.
During his youth, Michael Sr. was known by the nickname “Mikey the Twink,” a reference to his thin, hairless body, and chest that was smaller than his waist, like a young boy's. The crowd Mikey the Twink ran with was more than just a little questionable. How many times would you have been allowed to arrive home at midnight with your clothes torn and semen leaking out of your bruised mouth? Well, this was San Francisco, and evidently Michael Sr. got away with this behavior while he was growing up gay on the mean streets of the Faggot Sex Capitol of the world.
Fast-forward to middle age, and this homosexual cock-lusting faggot is left with a son to rear. No wonder the Michael Sims we all know is so angry and apt to censor!
By the age of 13, Michael Sims had endured years of sexual abuse at the hands of his father and other relatives: let's be frank about this!
Michael was forced to suck his father's erect penis while his “Aunt” Jack would penetrate Michael's anus with his 5" thick throbbing meatpole. All while “Father” O'Reilly (yes, the same publisher Tim O'Reilly of Open Source fame) videotaped the gay orgies with a tripod as he sodomized young Michael's penis with his hot tongue or made Michael eat his hairy Irish asshole out!!!
Occasionally a ruddy streetman named Eric would join in the festivities and rub his crooked dick on Michael's smooth face and cover the lad in cumshot as he dribbled Jägermeister all over himself, singing the praises of Open Sauce and being surprised by cock.
Too many years of cum-baths and anal sex had gotten to Michael. In the wee hours of April 19, 1993, at the tender age of 16, Michael Sims secretly boarded a plane to Germany to join the Hitler Youth, hoping to escape the the excess sodomy in his life while gaining some discipline in the process. Little did Michael know that he was going from the frying pan and into the flames.
Upon entering the Hitler Youth, Michael smiled for the first time in his cock-filled life. He was surrounded by boys of all ages, and his cock-lust — cultivated by years of faggotry at his father's hand — blossomed in the harsh environment of the Hitler Youth. Michael progressed rapidly through the ranks until one day, he was called upon to serve in the elite SS. And then the bottom of Michael's world fell out.
Michael was greeted not by Adolf Hitler (long dead by now) or any other Nazi. Michael Sims was instead greeted by a homosexual face from the past: the insidious, ruddy complexion of ESR, the streetman named Eric that had fornicated him years ago! Yes, ESR was the dastardly Deutsch Gas Baron, and the Hitler Youth was nothing but a faggot recruiting front to satiate the twink-lust of ESR!
For the next six years, Michael Sims was almost constantly involved in some sort of homosexual activity, either sampling the famous gay bars of München, training recruits new to Raymond's Youth Corps (the facade of Hitler having since been dropped), or satisfying ESR's bottomless hunger for gay faggot cum-lusting sex. Michael was even one of the first Germans to contract HIV, the virus that causes AIDS.
ESR's stake in Michael increased, as did Michael's lust for ESR's thin erect cock, until finally Michael had been made a general in ESR's diabolic Gas Barony. And it was at this time that Michael was given his very own life-long mission.
ESR needed someone that could take the literary world in their faggot hand and turn it to use for ESR and his worldwide Petroleum Fiefdom: propaganda for Crude Oil and Faggotry! Who better than Michael?
His first objective was to find a platform with which to gather mainstream literary credibility. Enter Censorware.org, which Michael infiltrated and later destroyed. Read the story of censorship, terrorism and ransom here. And do not forget it.
With Censorware destroyed, Michael's name got out into the Nazi and Faggot literary scenes, leading to the day that he received a phone call from none other than Rob Malda, of Slashdot.org, whose staff were the most desperate of homosexuals and whose editors were most Nazi-like in nature. Rob Malda was offering Michael Sims a job.
Michael had finally found his home and means of completing his homosexual mission. To this day he enjoys gay anal sex all day and all night, and a way to censor the truth-bringers, like me, on a whim.
Leonard Nimoy turned 80. You fucking idiot.
Rob Malda is a 26-year old white male with a stocky build and a beard. His head is shaved. He responded to my ad to be interviewed for this article wearing only leather pants, leather boots and a leather vest. I could see that both of his nipples were pierced with large-gauge silver rings.
Questioner: I hope you won't be offended if I ask you to prove to me that you're a nullo. Just so that our readers will know that this isn't a fake.
Rob: Sure, no problem. (stands and unbuckles pants and drops them to his ankles, revealing a smooth, shaven crotch with only a thin scar to show where his genitals once were).
Q: Thank you. That's a remarkable sight.
(laughs and pulls pants back up). Most people think so.
Q: What made you decide to become a nullo?
(pauses). Well, it really wasn't entirely my decision.
Q: Excuse me?
The idea wasn't mine. It was my lover's idea.
Q: Please explain what you mean.
Okay, it's a long story. You have to understand my relationship with Michael before you'll know what happened.
Q: We have plenty of time. Please go on.
Both of us were into the leather lifestyle when we met through a personal ad. Michael's ad was very specific: he was looking for someone to completely dominate and modify to his pleasure. In other word, a slave.
The ad intrigued me. I had been in a number of B&D scenes and also some S&M, but I found them unsatisfying because they were all temporary. After the fun was over, everybody went on with life as usual.
I was looking for a complete life change. I wanted to meet someone who would be part of my life forever. Someone who would control me and change me at his whim.
Q: In other words, you're a true masochist.
Oh yes, no doubt about that. I've always been totally passive in my sexual relationships.
Anyway, we met and there was instant chemistry. Michael is a few years older than me and very good looking. Our personalities meshed totally. He's very dominant.
I went back to his place after drinks and had the best sex of my life. That's when I knew I was going to be with Michael for a long, long time.
Q: What sort of things did you two do?
It was very heavy right away. He restrained me and whipped me for quite awhile. He put clamps on my nipples and a ball gag in my mouth. And he hung a ball bag on my sack with some very heavy weights. That bag really bounced around when Michael fucked me from behind.
Q: Ouch.
(laughs) Yeah, no kidding. At first I didn't think I could take the pain, but Michael worked me through it and after awhile I was flying. I was sorry when it was over.
Michael enjoyed it as much as I did. Afterwards he talked about what kind of a commitment I'd have to make if I wanted to stay with him.
Q: What did he say exactly?
Well, besides agreeing to be his slave in every way, I'd have to be ready to be modified. To have my body modified.
Q: Did he explain what he meant by that?
Not specifically, but I got the general idea. I guessed that something like castration might be part of it.
Q: How did that make you feel?
(laughs) I think it would make any guy a little hesitant.
Q: But it didn't stop you from agreeing to Michael's terms?
No it didn't. I was totally hooked on this man. I knew that I was willing to pay any price to be with him.
Anyway, a few days later I moved in with Michael. He gave me the rules right away: I'd have to be naked at all times while we were indoors, except for a leather dog collar that I could never take off. I had to keep my head shaved. And I had to wear a butt plug except when I needed to take a shit or when we were having sex.
I had to sleep on the floor next to his bed. I ate all my food on the floor, too.
The next day he took me to a piercing parlor where he had my nipples done, and a Prince Albert put into the head of my cock.
Q: Heavy stuff.
Yeah, and it got heavier. He used me as a toilet, pissing in my mouth. I had to lick his asshole clean after he took a shit, too. It was all part of a process to break down any sense of individuality I had. After awhile, I wouldn't hesitate to do anything he asked.
Q: Did the sex get rougher?
Oh God, yeah. He started fisting me every time we had sex. But he really started concentrating on my cock and balls, working them over for hours at a time.
He put pins into the head of my cock and into my sack. He attached clothespins up and down my cock and around my sack. The pain was pretty bad. He had to gag me to keep me from screaming.
Q: When did the idea of nullification come up?
Well, it wasn't nullification at first. He started talking about how I needed to make a greater commitment to him, to do something to show that I was dedicated to him for life.
When I asked him what he meant, he said that he wanted to take my balls.
Q: How did you respond?
Not very well at first. I told him that I liked being a man and didn't want to become a eunuch. But he kept at me, and wore me down. He reminded me that I agreed to be modified according to his wishes, and this is what he wanted for me. Anything less would show that I wasn't really committed to the relationship. And besides, I was a total bottom and didn't really need my balls.
It took about a week before I agreed to be castrated. But I wasn't happy about it, believe me.
Q: How did he castrate you?
Michael had a friend who was into the eunuch scene. One night he came over with his bag of toys, and Michael told me that this was it. I was gonna lose my nuts then and there.
Q: Did you think of resisting?
I did for a minute, but deep down I knew there was no way. I just didn't want to lose Michael. I'd rather lose my balls.
Michael's friend restrained me on the living room floor while Michael videotaped us. He used an elastrator to put a band around my sack.
Q: That must have really hurt.
Hell yeah. It's liked getting kicked in the balls over and over again. I screamed for him to cut the band off, but he just kept on going, putting more bands on me. I had four bands around my sack when he finished.
I was rolling around on the floor screaming, while Michael just videotaped me. Eventually, my sack got numb and the pain subsided. I looked between my legs and could see my sack was a dark purple. I knew my balls were dying inside.
Michael and his friend left the room and turned out the light. I lay there for hours, crying because I was turning into a eunuch and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
Q: What happened then?
Eventually I fell asleep from exhaustion. Then the light switched on and I could see Michael's friend kneeling between my legs, touching my sack. I heard him tell Michael that my balls were dead.
Q: How did Michael react?
Very pleased. He bent down and felt around my sack. He said that it felt cold.
Michael's friend told me that I needed to keep the bands on. He said that eventually my balls and sack would dry up and fall off. I just nodded. What else could I do at that point?
Q: Did it happen just like Michael's friend said?
Yeah, a week or so later my package just fell off. Michael put it in a jar of alcohol to preserve it. It's on the table next to his bed.
Q: How did things go after that?
Michael was really loving to me. He kept saying how proud he was of me, how grateful that I had made the commitment to him. He even let me sleep in his bed.
Q: What about the sex?
We waited awhile after my castration, and then took it easy until I was completely healed. At first I was able to get hard, but as the weeks went by my erections began to disappear.
That pleased Michael. He liked fucking me and feeling my limp cock. It made his dominance over me even greater.
Q: When did he start talking about making you a nullo?
A couple of months after he took my nuts. Our sex had gotten to be just as rough as before the castration. He really got off on torturing my cock. Then he started saying stuff like, "Why do you even need this anymore?"
That freaked me out. I always thought that he might someday take my balls, but I never imagined that he'd go all the way. I told him that I wanted to keep my dick.
Q: How did he react to that?
At first he didn't say much. But he kept pushing. Michael said I would look so nice being smooth between my legs. He said my dick was small and never got hard anymore, so what was the point of having it.
But I still resisted. I wanted to keep my cock. I felt like I wouldn't be a man anymore without it.
Q: So how did he get you to agree?
He didn't. He took it against my will.
Q: How did that happen?
We were having sex in the basement, and I was tied up and bent over this wooden bench as he fucked me. Then I heard the doorbell ring. Michael answered it, and he brought this guy into the room.
At first I couldn't see anything because of the way I was tied. But then I felt these hands lift me up and put me on my back. And I could see it was Michael's friend, the guy who took my nuts.
Q: How did you react?
I started screaming and crying, but the guy just gagged me. The two of them dragged me to the other side of the room where they tied me spread eagled on the floor.
Michael's friend snaked a catheter up my dick, and gave me a shot to numb my crotch. I was grateful for that, at least. I remember how bad it hurt to lose my balls.
Q: What was Michael doing at this time?
He was kneeling next to me talking quietly. He said I'd be happy that they were doing this. That it would make our relationship better. That kind of calmed me down. I thought, "Well, maybe it won't be so bad."
Q: How long did the penectomy take?
It took awhile. Some of the penis is inside the body, so he had to dig inside to get all of it. There was a lot of stitching up and stuff. He put my cock in the same jar with my balls. You can even see the Prince Albert sticking out of the head.
Then they made me a new pisshole. It's between my asshole and where my sack used to be. So now I have to squat to piss.
Q: What has life been like since you were nullified?
After I got over the surgery and my anger, things got better. When I healed up, I began to like my smooth look. Michael brought friends over and they all admired it, saying how pretty I looked. It made me feel good that Michael was proud of me.
Q: Do you have any sexual feeling anymore?
Yes, my prostate still responds when Michael fucks me or uses the buttplug. And my nipples are quite sensitive. If Michael plays with them while fucking me, I have a kind of orgasm. It's hard to describe, but it's definitely an orgasm.
Sometimes Michael says he's gonna have my prostate and nipples removed, but he's just kidding around. He's happy with what he's done to me.
Q: So are you glad Michael had you nullified?
Well, I wouldn't say I'm glad. If I could, I'd like to have my cock and balls back. But I know that I'm a nullo forever. So I'm making the best of it.
Michael and I are very happy. I know that he'll take care of me and we'll be together always. I guess losing my manhood was worth it to make that happen for us.
120 Amps? What kind of little girl's car do you drive?
Perhaps a Tata Nano...?
Of course, Linus is not a lawyer, and his interpretation of GPL may not be correct. But the gist of the original story was that it was legal analysis made by an IP lawyer, and he essentially agreed with Linus.
An alarm sounded in the dark, and Linus Torvalds groaned and shuffled under his covers. His wife lay lazily snoring next to him, and the alarm clock bathed their forms in red light as it pulsed.
Before long Linus slapped the snooze button on the alarm, grunted, stretched, and ambled out of bed.
Linus's alarm was was no ordinary one. For starters, it was a 386-based mini-ATX custom rig with 32 MiB that ran Linux 2.6.36.2 in a one-off distro Linus called Alarmix. He used emacs to edit his alarm configuration file every night, and in the morning when alarmd woke up it played a rather loud klaxon. But today it was far earlier than he had set his alarm, and this was a source of worry for Linus.
This klaxon was a special one, run when alarmd was remotely activated by the Git server, meant to alert the core Linux developers that someone was attempting to hack into the Linux kernel code repository. There would likely be a logfile of attempted intrusions displaying on Linus's workstation right now.
Stretching his back and cracking his neck as he wandered slowly to his study, Linus fell lazily into his chair.
"I wonder who it is this time," Linus thought to himself as he jiggled his mouse, temporality blinding himself as his 50" LCD TV came on.
But before Linus's eyes could adjust, he saw stars. Something hard and cold hit him dead-center in the forehead, flipping him backward in his chair onto the floor.
"Hello, Linus," a voice standing over Linus said. "Long time no see, isn't it?" the voice chided.
"What the fuck?" was all Linus could muster as he recovered from the blow.
"In case you're wondering, Linus, that was the butt of my Colt M1991A officer's model," the voice, high and whiny as Linus's ear tuned back in, said. "It's the small-frame six-shot 3-5/8"-barrel version of the classic
Linus's heart beat like a jackrabbit fucking on a hot tin roof. A gun? This was a first. His high Finnish forehead was still numb, but he could feel it swelling.
"This baby's small enough to conceal but has excellent stopping power, wouldn't you agree?"
The interloper laughed at his own joke and Linus's ears perked: the narcissistic sense of humor the whiny, nasal voice it finally came together in Linus's addled brain: his assailant was none other than Eric S. Raymond, the ruddy Open Source advocate and Jger-guzzling, gun-toting gas-bag.
"Fuck you, Eric!" Linus shouted. After almost twenty years of tolerating the megalomaniacal bullshit that Raymond served on a regular basis, Linus was more angry than scared. "You can go fuck yourself!"
"I'm glad you brought that up!" Eric said, cheerfully. "That's exactly why I dropped in for a little visit tonight! But I won't be fucking myself"
Linus's moan was muted by the thin, pale, crooked penis covered in a dark brown syrup plunging rudely into his open maw. He gasped through his nose as the skinny, misshapen prick started pumping in and out of his slick mouth.
"Oh yeah" Eric said between breaths. "Ohhh yeah."
The room was silent except for muffled moaning and a wet, fleshy rhythmic pumping sound which reverberated off the dingy, tiled walls.
"Fuck your mouth, Linus!" Eric said. "I want to see cum and Jgermeister all over your pretty little Finnish face!"
Linus was crying, the eye-liner Eric forced him to apply at gunpoint running down his cheeks from his glassy, bloodshot eyes. He gagged and drool poured from his lips.
"I'll need a little lube first, though," Eric said, reaching for his Jger bottle. "Your mouth isn't quite wet enough for old uncle Eric"
Eric uncapped the bottle in one quick motion, not letting his Colt stray from Linus's forehead. Then, something dark and brown started raining on the festivities, covering Linus's face and Eric's bushy dick.
"This shit'll be good, Linus. Oh, fuck! Open up your mouth, you little bitch," the man said as he withdrew his cock from Linus's bitch-hole.
"Please No more Jäger Can't breath I'm going to be sick" Linus gasped as he desperately inhaled fresh air. The scent of unwashed hacker penis was strong in his nose.
"Open up and say ah, boy!" Eric shouted and Jer splashed around the unholy union of Linus's soft lips and Eric's gangly penis and balls. "I want you to get every last drop in that sweet little mouth of yours!"
Eric's face was aglow with the last of his Jäger and his grin, leering and anxious, spread his dropping orange mustache wide.
"Eric, no more. Please. I can't-" Linus said just as Eric cockslapped him.
"You'll do as I say or else", Eric said. "But you could use a break, couldn't you, you stupid little faggot bitch?"
Eric released his hand from around his junk and withdrew his cock from Linus's worn mouth.
Gasping, Linus sat against the wall in the bathtub. Covered in various body fluids, his eyes were dark and sunken. He had scrapes and bruises here and there, especially around his jaw. This was his sixth day of being locked in Eric Raymond's bathroom.
"You know, that's a good position there," Eric said. He laid his Colt on the nearby toilet tank, the metal clankingon the ceramic toilet tank lid. He took several gulps of his magic liqueur and likewise set the bottle down.
"Now open up and take it like a good little bitch," Eric said with a look of child-like glee on his face. "Here comes Hurricane Eric!"
With this remark, Eric turned around and pointed his ass at Linus, his shaky hands spreading his bulbous, white butt cheeks as far apart as they'd go. His yellow-brown ass crack was covered in a red fur that became darker as it neared his asshole. Eric's puckered anus shook and twitched for a second, and then the walls of the shower reverberated with a wet ripping noise.
"Oh god, take it boy!" Eric shouted in ecstasy.
Linus, at the business end of Eric Raymond, could do little more than cry as his face was covered in blast after blast of Eric's light brown ass-burps. One shot his him on the neck, the next shotgunned his forehead and hair, and one finally took him square in the mouth. After a few seconds the slimy assault slowed to a twitching trickle.
Linus sobbed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He streaked the shit, but didn't remove it.
"Oh, you're not done yet, Rustard," Eric said from the other end. "One more little gift for you, coming up right about"
Eric began shitting the largest turd Linus had ever seen in his life. It was a reddish brown clay color with streaks of blood and mucus. It slipped from Eric's ass with ease even though it was already nearing a foot long and had to be as big around as Eric's wrists, which were straining to hold his ass-cheeks apart.
"Oh my god," Eric cried as the last of the dark beast left his ass. He turned to look at Linus and saw him against the wall, eyes rolled back in his head, with the turd halfway down his throat. He was convulsing, trying to breathe—or was he trying to inhale it? Eric watched in a mixture of shock and arousal for a second before stepping toward the beaten Linux developer.
"No you don't, not today, Linus," Eric said as he kicked Linus in the diaphragm with his good foot. "No suffocating yourself so you can get out of being my sex slave. No siree bob!"
Linus vomited the turd back up along with dinner from earlier. His hot wet sick smelled like an untended portable toilet that had seen use during an attack of dysentery. Linus was sobbing now between coughs, wishing for more than anything to die.
"Okay, Linus, you're done for now," Eric said. "Get upstairs and modify my privileges in the Linux Git server."
Linus looked at Eric with weary eyes. After days of shit and rape and Linux, he was finally broken. He would give Eric what he had been after for so long and had finally earned by pooping in Linus's mouth: root privileges on the Git server that maintained the Linux kernel source code.
"And remember, when you go to do it," Eric said, smiling as he turned on the shower head and began sweeping the shower curtain closed, "I am a core Linux developer!"
Weeping, Linus climbed on unsteady feet and walked toward the door. He held his stomach and trembled as he went. Now that his playtime was over, he felt dread and nothing more: dread of CML2 running in Linux.
An alarm sounded in the dark, and Linus Torvalds groaned and shuffled under his covers. His wife lay lazily snoring next to him, and the alarm clock bathed their forms in red light as it pulsed.
Before long Linus slapped the snooze button on the alarm, grunted, stretched, and ambled out of bed.
Linus's alarm was was no ordinary one. For starters, it was a 386-based mini-ATX custom rig with 32 MiB that ran Linux 2.6.36.2 in a one-off distro Linus called Alarmix. He used emacs to edit his alarm configuration file every night, and in the morning when alarmd woke up it played a rather loud klaxon. But today it was far earlier than he had set his alarm, and this was a source of worry for Linus.
This klaxon was a special one, run when alarmd was remotely activated by the Git server, meant to alert the core Linux developers that someone was attempting to hack into the Linux kernel code repository. There would likely be a logfile of attempted intrusions displaying on Linus's workstation right now.
Stretching his back and cracking his neck as he wandered slowly to his study, Linus fell lazily into his chair.
"I wonder who it is this time," Linus thought to himself as he jiggled his mouse, temporality blinding himself as his 50" LCD TV came on.
But before Linus's eyes could adjust, he saw stars. Something hard and cold hit him dead-center in the forehead, flipping him backward in his chair onto the floor.
"Hello, Linus," a voice standing over Linus said. "Long time no see, isn't it?" the voice chided.
"What the fuck?" was all Linus could muster as he recovered from the blow.
"In case you're wondering, Linus, that was the butt of my Colt M1991A officer's model," the voice, high and whiny as Linus's ear tuned back in, said. "It's the small-frame six-shot 3-5/8"-barrel version of the classic
Linus's heart beat like a jackrabbit fucking on a hot tin roof. A gun? This was a first. His high Finnish forehead was still numb, but he could feel it swelling.
"This baby's small enough to conceal but has excellent stopping power, wouldn't you agree?"
The interloper laughed at his own joke and Linus's ears perked: the narcissistic sense of humor the whiny, nasal voice it finally came together in Linus's addled brain: his assailant was none other than Eric S. Raymond, the ruddy Open Source advocate and Jger-guzzling, gun-toting gas-bag.
"Fuck you, Eric!" Linus shouted. After almost twenty years of tolerating the megalomaniacal bullshit that Raymond served on a regular basis, Linus was more angry than scared. "You can go fuck yourself!"
"I'm glad you brought that up!" Eric said, cheerfully. "That's exactly why I dropped in for a little visit tonight! But I won't be fucking myself"
Linus's moan was muted by the thin, pale, crooked penis covered in a dark brown syrup plunging rudely into his open maw. He gasped through his nose as the skinny, misshapen prick started pumping in and out of his slick mouth.
"Oh yeah" Eric said between breaths. "Ohhh yeah."
The room was silent except for muffled moaning and a wet, fleshy rhythmic pumping sound which reverberated off the dingy, tiled walls.
"Fuck your mouth, Linus!" Eric said. "I want to see cum and Jgermeister all over your pretty little Finnish face!"
Linus was crying, the eye-liner Eric forced him to apply at gunpoint running down his cheeks from his glassy, bloodshot eyes. He gagged and drool poured from his lips.
"I'll need a little lube first, though," Eric said, reaching for his Jger bottle. "Your mouth isn't quite wet enough for old uncle Eric"
Eric uncapped the bottle in one quick motion, not letting his Colt stray from Linus's forehead. Then, something dark and brown started raining on the festivities, covering Linus's face and Eric's bushy dick.
"This shit'll be good, Linus. Oh, fuck! Open up your mouth, you little bitch," the man said as he withdrew his cock from Linus's bitch-hole.
"Please No more Jäger Can't breath I'm going to be sick" Linus gasped as he desperately inhaled fresh air. The scent of unwashed hacker penis was strong in his nose.
"Open up and say ah, boy!" Eric shouted and Jer splashed around the unholy union of Linus's soft lips and Eric's gangly penis and balls. "I want you to get every last drop in that sweet little mouth of yours!"
Eric's face was aglow with the last of his Jäger and his grin, leering and anxious, spread his dropping orange mustache wide.
"Eric, no more. Please. I can't-" Linus said just as Eric cockslapped him.
"You'll do as I say or else", Eric said. "But you could use a break, couldn't you, you stupid little faggot bitch?"
Eric released his hand from around his junk and withdrew his cock from Linus's worn mouth.
Gasping, Linus sat against the wall in the bathtub. Covered in various body fluids, his eyes were dark and sunken. He had scrapes and bruises here and there, especially around his jaw. This was his sixth day of being locked in Eric Raymond's bathroom.
"You know, that's a good position there," Eric said. He laid his Colt on the nearby toilet tank, the metal clankingon the ceramic toilet tank lid. He took several gulps of his magic liqueur and likewise set the bottle down.
"Now open up and take it like a good little bitch," Eric said with a look of child-like glee on his face. "Here comes Hurricane Eric!"
With this remark, Eric turned around and pointed his ass at Linus, his shaky hands spreading his bulbous, white butt cheeks as far apart as they'd go. His yellow-brown ass crack was covered in a red fur that became darker as it neared his asshole. Eric's puckered anus shook and twitched for a second, and then the walls of the shower reverberated with a wet ripping noise.
"Oh god, take it boy!" Eric shouted in ecstasy.
Linus, at the business end of Eric Raymond, could do little more than cry as his face was covered in blast after blast of Eric's light brown ass-burps. One shot his him on the neck, the next shotgunned his forehead and hair, and one finally took him square in the mouth. After a few seconds the slimy assault slowed to a twitching trickle.
Linus sobbed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He streaked the shit, but didn't remove it.
"Oh, you're not done yet, Rustard," Eric said from the other end. "One more little gift for you, coming up right about"
Eric began shitting the largest turd Linus had ever seen in his life. It was a reddish brown clay color with streaks of blood and mucus. It slipped from Eric's ass with ease even though it was already nearing a foot long and had to be as big around as Eric's wrists, which were straining to hold his ass-cheeks apart.
"Oh my god," Eric cried as the last of the dark beast left his ass. He turned to look at Linus and saw him against the wall, eyes rolled back in his head, with the turd halfway down his throat. He was convulsing, trying to breathe—or was he trying to inhale it? Eric watched in a mixture of shock and arousal for a second before stepping toward the beaten Linux developer.
"No you don't, not today, Linus," Eric said as he kicked Linus in the diaphragm with his good foot. "No suffocating yourself so you can get out of being my sex slave. No siree bob!"
Linus vomited the turd back up along with dinner from earlier. His hot wet sick smelled like an untended portable toilet that had seen use during an attack of dysentery. Linus was sobbing now between coughs, wishing for more than anything to die.
"Okay, Linus, you're done for now," Eric said. "Get upstairs and modify my privileges in the Linux Git server."
Linus looked at Eric with weary eyes. After days of shit and rape and Linux, he was finally broken. He would give Eric what he had been after for so long and had finally earned by pooping in Linus's mouth: root privileges on the Git server that maintained the Linux kernel source code.
"And remember, when you go to do it," Eric said, smiling as he turned on the shower head and began sweeping the shower curtain closed, "I am a core Linux developer!"
Weeping, Linus climbed on unsteady feet and walked toward the door. He held his stomach and trembled as he went. Now that his playtime was over, he felt dread and nothing more: dread of CML2 running in Linux.
Few today haven't felt the touch of censorship that is Michael Sims's modus operandi. Anything labelled subversive by this fascist editor is immediately moderated to -1 and its poster's account subjected to all sorts of terrible modifications meant to make it impossible to reveal the truth about Michael Sims. Truth that I, in this exposé, will reveal to you.
Having killed his mother in childbirth, Michael was left with only his father to raise him, a man with well-documented social disorders and sick sexual fetishes.
During his youth, Michael Sr. was known by the nickname “Mikey the Twink,” a reference to his thin, hairless body, and chest that was smaller than his waist, like a young boy's. The crowd Mikey the Twink ran with was more than just a little questionable. How many times would you have been allowed to arrive home at midnight with your clothes torn and semen leaking out of your bruised mouth? Well, this was San Francisco, and evidently Michael Sr. got away with this behavior while he was growing up gay on the mean streets of the Faggot Sex Capitol of the world.
Fast-forward to middle age, and this homosexual cock-lusting faggot is left with a son to rear. No wonder the Michael Sims we all know is so angry and apt to censor!
By the age of 13, Michael Sims had endured years of sexual abuse at the hands of his father and other relatives: let's be frank about this!
Michael was forced to suck his father's erect penis while his “Aunt” Jack would penetrate Michael's anus with his 5" thick throbbing meatpole. All while “Father” O'Reilly (yes, the same publisher Tim O'Reilly of Open Source fame) videotaped the gay orgies with a tripod as he sodomized young Michael's penis with his hot tongue or made Michael eat his hairy Irish asshole out!!!
Occasionally a ruddy streetman named Eric would join in the festivities and rub his crooked dick on Michael's smooth face and cover the lad in cumshot as he dribbled Jägermeister all over himself, singing the praises of Open Sauce and being surprised by cock.
Too many years of cum-baths and anal sex had gotten to Michael. In the wee hours of April 19, 1993, at the tender age of 16, Michael Sims secretly boarded a plane to Germany to join the Hitler Youth, hoping to escape the the excess sodomy in his life while gaining some discipline in the process. Little did Michael know that he was going from the frying pan and into the flames.
Upon entering the Hitler Youth, Michael smiled for the first time in his cock-filled life. He was surrounded by boys of all ages, and his cock-lust — cultivated by years of faggotry at his father's hand — blossomed in the harsh environment of the Hitler Youth. Michael progressed rapidly through the ranks until one day, he was called upon to serve in the elite SS. And then the bottom of Michael's world fell out.
Michael was greeted not by Adolf Hitler (long dead by now) or any other Nazi. Michael Sims was instead greeted by a homosexual face from the past: the insidious, ruddy complexion of ESR, the streetman named Eric that had fornicated him years ago! Yes, ESR was the dastardly Deutsch Gas Baron, and the Hitler Youth was nothing but a faggot recruiting front to satiate the twink-lust of ESR!
For the next six years, Michael Sims was almost constantly involved in some sort of homosexual activity, either sampling the famous gay bars of München, training recruits new to Raymond's Youth Corps (the facade of Hitler having since been dropped), or satisfying ESR's bottomless hunger for gay faggot cum-lusting sex. Michael was even one of the first Germans to contract HIV, the virus that causes AIDS.
ESR's stake in Michael increased, as did Michael's lust for ESR's thin erect cock, until finally Michael had been made a general in ESR's diabolic Gas Barony. And it was at this time that Michael was given his very own life-long mission.
ESR needed someone that could take the literary world in their faggot hand and turn it to use for ESR and his worldwide Petroleum Fiefdom: propaganda for Crude Oil and Faggotry! Who better than Michael?
His first objective was to find a platform with which to gather mainstream literary credibility. Enter Censorware.org, which Michael infiltrated and later destroyed. Read the story of censorship, terrorism and ransom here. And do not forget it.
With Censorware destroyed, Michael's name got out into the Nazi and Faggot literary scenes, leading to the day that he received a phone call from none other than Rob Malda, of Slashdot.org, whose staff were the most desperate of homosexuals and whose editors were most Nazi-like in nature. Rob Malda was offering Michael Sims a job.
Michael had finally found his home and means of completing his homosexual mission. To this day he enjoys gay anal sex all day and all night, and a way to censor the truth-bringers, like me, on a whim.
People, what a bunch of bastards
No truer words have benn spiken? Mother fuckewr!
Money = Work/Knowledge so the less you know the more you make
Perhaps, but you'll have to work much harder for that money...
And I can't even vote them off the bench. Some democracy.
"What man has done, man can aspire to do." -- Jerry Pournelle, about space flight
