1. Sage of the Forlorn Path's "I dream of angels" AKA my fav story ever


    Date: 6/4/2017, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Author: PolishCock, Rating: 78.6, Source: sexstories.com

    the star being devoured by the black hole in its core, the star sitting in a nebula looking like the eye of God. Each night, I could feel myself drawing closer and closer to the black hole in the center, being pulled in towards my death. The closer I got, the larger the celestial mass became, surpassing my human comprehension. I was close, so close, soon I could rest in peace. “Fifty bucks for a dose, and I’ll give you an extra ten for a clean needle and to help me set up. My hands are too shaky for something like this.” I said, standing in an alley in town. The sky above was grey with a gentle snowfall pouring down on the dealer and I. Luckily, the café to our right kept us out of the wind. The man before me looked to be in his late twenties, unshaven with deep distrust in his eyes. I was a new customer to him, and normally he would have turned me away on instinct, but luckily I looked sick enough to pass for a hardened user. “Let me see your hands.” He ordered. I held up my hands, letting him see them tremble. With every nerve ending in my fingers firing, my hands were shaking so badly that it looked like I had MS. “Alright, fine. You’re in luck kid, I just got some brand new syringes yesterday and I’ve got one left.” He said, looking around to make sure we wouldn’t be seen and then taking out his merchandise. Filling up a spoon with heroin, he clenched the handle with his teeth and used his hands to hold a lighter and protect the flame from the wind. Slowly the powder ...
    melted into its liquid form, and before it could cool, he unwrapped an unused syringe and filled it with the drug, finishing by handing it to me in exchange for the cash. “Tch, luck. If luck were on my side today, this needle would end up killing me.” I said as the dealer walked off. Sitting down on the cold wet ground, I pulled up my sleeve and looked for a vein. It certainly wasn’t hard; my skin was as thin as paper and my arteries were all swollen from malnutrition and the strain of my disease. I pushed the needle into my arm, not even feeling it amongst the billions of other painful pricks tormenting my body. I hesitated pushing down on the plunger, wondering if this was really the route to take. My life was already cut short and the chances of there being a cure for my pain were slim, but did I really want to further burden myself with even a single injection of this toxin and risk an instantaneous addiction? After all, the pot had been a dismal failure, what chance did heroin have of helping me? I concluded my hesitation with a laugh, deciding I didn’t have much to lose. I pushed down onto the plunger, filling my bloodstream with the poison. Casting the empty syringe aside, I leaned my head back and stared up into the snowfall, waiting for the drug to take affect. Could I possibly be any more pathetic? Sitting in a back alley with heroin running through my veins, trying desperately to free myself for just a few moments from my disease, it was beyond pitiful, it was ...
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