beware of a spiked god

mAcRo gOD

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@CL207 Gasoline is used in cocaine production.

[Earl @earl16o1]

Jofella Chapter 14: Queer Theory, part 1

The image burned, green dot camera light, warping through space, prism across the retinas. The memories began in a single color. Green candles, inverse color across the eye, red candles, the eyes trying to neutralize that traumatic red light with thoughts of green candles. Joffrey only ever felt this bad when the market was crashing, crashing alone in his bed, he had to get the fuck up, he had to turn off the webcam, the burning image still recording himself displaying back at himself. His pathetic slob of a body swayed up to the computer and ripped the serial connector right out of the socket, bending the aluminum frame. The streaming program flashed an error code and terminated. The first sex tape was over.

***

No differences across cucked and uncucked, watching himself and being himself, reverse images in mind, just living life, within life, extended in material reality, mental anguish, cross section of the brain in the cucked computer programmer’s language graph, alphabets of being Japanese. Maria’s plague of erotic asphyxiation had Jofella caught in the eternal slouch of introspection, his back quarter moon arched in his chair, strapped in, even with that fearful anticipation, at least it was her strapping him in, at least it was pleasure. Had he even gained anything by all this? It wasn’t really sexual pleasure. In the video surely a drop of semen was drawn, but now there was nothing. In thinking all is life, it was possible, he knew, that in that brief moment of penetration he could have impregnated her with that one drop of semen. Maybe that was the whole point of her rape test, the fucking rape test. He fucking failed it. It was the deepest pain he felt. Being reminded of this every time he rewatched the sex tape, if he had just kept going, if he had just had more cock strength of youth, if he hadn’t felt that well of pain from what is called life experience, level headedness, wisdom, understanding of her supposed feelings, being a cuck, if it was a cuck test then he fucking succeeded, if he had just ignored her cries to stop, laid his cock down and kept going they could being making Tamagotchi babies all day together, they could be making all sorts of cool art babies together, a whole happy family. Now he had to content himself with the hope of that one little drop, in truth, it was the one thing keeping him going, if that one little drop didn’t make it into insemination, into one of her ovarian productions, into something in the mysterious mechanics of art beyond his comprehension, than there was a very real chance all his art was a pile of worthless scrap.

Joffrey didn’t entirely grasp to the level of persistent cognisance exactly how the female disc generator body worked. This failure to grasp was an automatic function in the mind of a fella to make the female artist body more enchanted, less mechanical. Despite his confusion, distress and insecurity overthrowing his ability to understand her emotion even less, of course she felt a special connection to him, and of course the depth of that feeling and her ability to augment his paintings was precisely because they had had sex, and even more so because that one drop did make it into her womb. Without that, there would not be enough chemistry for her body to enter its artistic reproductive mode, when she layed his paintings flat on the floor, when she began to stimulate herself with the help of lubricating linseed oil, rubbing herself and grinding down on the painting, as her reproductive apparatus began producing its own Toji-verse oils, art augmentation fluids, forming an interactivity bond, all encompassing between herself and the art work, the disc goddess, channeling energy and ability through the universe and the singular object. Her body would not be capable of copulating with his artwork if they hadn’t copulated themselves, his seed stimulating the bond between them in her womb. But did he impregnate her? Did he fertilize a Tamagotchi? What would happen then? The procreative and art generative possibilities of a disc goddess are not limited to any strict physical or technological laws, they are only limited by the creativity of the disc goddess herself, with every artist she fucks, new skills are learned, broadened psychology, broadened artistic understanding, with every copulation new possibilities of production can be imaged, new forms of copulation written into existence, documented, streamed. Enough for now, enough, he didn’t need to know, he didn’t want to know, he had to remain cucked to the facts, enslaved in artistic desire, to produce his way out of pain, more and more art to impress his goddess, more worrying that she didn’t love him, more worrying that all his artistic struggles were a waste of time.

No such thing as wasted time, cringed out time, no wasted cock strength of youth, if only he still had that now, he would just fuck it up some more. He could barely even remember the pussy of his first real girl friend where he got to exercise that strength, wisdom of lessons learned should have been taking over his brain now. In that declining symphony of the hum of disc burners slowing down, CPU crackles from webcam and screen records max activity load sparkling out, and the white noise from the brain activity logging sensors of the Toji Cuck Brain Art Converter Software Suite neutralizing with the atmosphere, something real had been salvaged. The Saga of Jofella was being written, but all he felt was inertia of nothing to do, sitting in front of his computer screen spanning the horizon of his desk, sun setting on the countdown to screen suspend, and 15 minutes after that the hard drive would follow it into deep sleep mode.

The train of thought, the very definition of reality, threads amongst threads, a tangled mass, fishing line spools of the old masters, I must follow something coherent for this art life of mine, it was still Maria unwinding the thread, it can only follow one success, one final product, the train of thought is retrospectively one thread, where the train ends, not possible. In sleep there is rest, but awakening is merely a transition shot, an aesthetics of sceneology, all dissolves crumbled, a repetition of life which really is just straight ongoing, the computers are taking away the magic, the code makes it too fucking clear, burning chapters onto floppy disks, error codes of numbers in Sandisk manuals add some room to hide, hack a new face into the code, impossibility of facelessness, cucked identity, he wanted to rip it out, take a piss first, hopping out of the chair, then think.

It wasn’t a question of the same repetition, he had been repeating it all for some fucking time now, he was actively attempting to, he could remember certain trains of thought he had had as even a young boy, playing on his Game Gear, it wasn’t that bad then, at least a peaceful memory, if not a torment, a source of relaxation, to live it again, he had way better graphics now, way better computer gear, headache pain increased... but he had to continue, life would not wait for him, he knew it, at least not the good parts, those must be chased after, the bad parts, somehow too, just boring if he didn’t run along like a little scamp, not bad enough, was that the problem? The solution lied in alcohol withdrawal, it could heighten all the emotions, makes all the good bad enough, he forgot to get drunk, he forgot that drinking fresh ice cold beers was the thing he liked, now it was all puss withdrawal, diversions from the force against itself, there was enough to not be diverted by, but he could absolutely not fucking focus, that was the problem, there was not enough good art to focus on, for this one second in time, the next second, the next problem, as the logic follows, adjust for variables, essentially the same.

What is that bad feeling, the one making me hate this shit, it has went on too long, he had had enough, he wanted to do something else, be obsessed with something else when he woke up in the morning, maybe just fishing, no, I have to wait until retirement, I am an artist, not the worst thing, he was just in a shit level of the game.

He kept playing.

Somehow his health had been somewhat restored, whether through real time or cucked out Japanese time of the game cartridge sped up through 3 lives of Mario, it wasn’t his health, it was the effects of the first sex tape, it was his health, Maria made him healthy, in the artistic portion of the mind, proteins and antioxidants depleted in others, there’s always one portion that hogs them all and flourishes, in that part you find the creativity, juxtaposed against the other, the contrast for being able to see the thing, and its thing more clearly happens, you just need the strength of the goddesses’ strangulation to see it, the perception of strangling himself, but still, he was handicapped, he was still strapped to the chair, he was still only a passive operator in his artistic production, passive production was something he had learned with time, a wisdom of efficiency, streaming himself was the main thing, he often felt like he was never accomplishing shit artistically, but when he looked back at his library of streams, there was always something to bring to the fair, still, there needed to be a population of content beyond the stream, seeds had been planted, ideas and sketches begun, paintings painted to establish trading posts of the art idea, flipping through the book of images and captions, he still needed that further cucked out brain state, that further connection to the computer system, the Saga of Jofella had to evolve into multiformed states, he needed to cuck-fuckulate his brain more, and only then could his body escape the chair with all the power of its muscle trained for that action like a butterfly escaping the cuckoon, he needed the watch the final sex tape.

He had watched it many times before, hell, he had even lived a portion of its content, as one of its stars, a character off to the side, in his chair, separated from the bed, with the whole spectacle still revolving all around him, like a pre copernican celestial orbit, in his own window within the screen. But now things in this time were getting more serious, events unfolding that demanded a reintegration with the source material of his being, he felt, the grand fucking crescendo was approaching, in bombs dropping across the webcam portals of the world, verifying the news, Lalaidy was gone, his one true grasp of ass in the flesh, non-digital pussy, was it to be no more, the muse of fate, and well himself, it was all up to himself, improve the self, art production as ultimate proving ground of self, down the path if disintegration, surely this time it was true, that it really was a transitory epoch of the world of yesterday streamed away into history, the world of tomorrow not yet codified, and there he was, ready to codify it himself, he had to move fucking faster, he had to rewatch the fucking tape.

Japanese parable of a life in 3D. Jofella was not competent enough to simply insert the cassette into the drive and direct himself to accomplish the just stated goals. Maria had to take over, through the computer system again, as was her forte, keep playing the game for him, the Saga of Maria continued, he had to watch her play before she would bring the sex tape up on his screen as was required of the old Japanese style games, no hacks, no time warps, every level played, every boss defeated before having sex with the princess. Through the timeline of her saga, episodes within it, the thread she followed, extraneous elements removed, focus dissolved. A meditation of blood flows through the cuck, even veins are pleasurable organs, swelling blood excites the body, a difficulty increase on this level goes without saying, time goes faster, but the memories still clear and traumatic.

***

The morning following Maria’s rape test Joffrey lay in bed with no blanket and limbs spread out like a starfish, he could still remember thinking he was spread out like a starfish, he had an image of this cute cuddly star fish, an after image of half sleep dreams, like he was waiting for his cute cuddly animated girlfriend to tuck him in, bring the blanket back over him, he awoke a little more, there was no girl friend, there was no animation. She was gone, it had really happened, but he could still smell her---maybe there was some animation. He couldn’t bare to check the comments on his streaming channel, he couldn’t delete the video either, he didn’t wanna seem like a pussy, art first, right? Being a pussy f*****, second. Some people already would have seen it anyways, there would have been copies, he just tried to forget about it. He decided not to text Maria that day. He thought it was the chad thing to do. He even felt he would claim a victory over her by not doing it. In a way he did, she was expecting him to message her, she was expecting him to attempt to apologize for something, she waited all day for him to write, maybe she was too hard on him, she thought, maybe she should have at least stayed the night with him, even if she wouldn’t have sex with him.

She picked up a Tamagotchi, fed it and put it to bed, a silent orgy of electromagnetic forces pulsing under her thumbs. Joffrey thought it was all a pokemon game to her. It’s not a game when you don’t know your own powers. None her Tamagotchies had ever died. She put it down on her desk. She had finally lost a friend.

Joffrey knew he was fucked, he knew he had absolutely no power, no ability to even attempt to play a game, and he fucking hated video games. He texted her a few days later. No response. It was too late, he thought, she was already bored and losing interest in playing with him, he wasn’t dedicated enough to be her special little pokeboy.

Joffrey would never get to see her again in the flesh, let alone actually be with her, nestled up in her full scented aura he had only barely got to experience, even when he became Jofella, he could still detect her warm scent, eerie and gothic in depressed reverie, it was ever so slowly fading from his pheromone receptor’s memory, but they still wanted it, they still needed it, even though they no longer knew what it was. She did return some messages a few days later, after all, she couldn’t simply ignore him, they had been friends, nothing that crazy had happened between them, but he could tell she was distracted by other things, she was simply humoring him. Or maybe she wasn’t. There was a selfie attached. He clicked on the icon. A colorful blur filled the screen, slowly pixelating to a higher and higher resolution, then he could see it wasn’t just her, she was together with Larissa. Both of their breasts were cropped out. They were up to something. That cunt. She said she was too busy to meet up. He could tell it was probably true, her hair was tied back, but still some strands were fuzzed out with a sort of static electricity, like they were logging in hard to the servers.

They had been. She had waited two days after Joffrey failed the rape test for him to message her. When he didn’t, she renounced him and attempted to make first contact with the fellaverse disc server in Berlin. She found their IP address advertised in a pirated PDF version of Cuck Magazine. Joffrey had actually found the issue somehow and sent it to her. They had a whole page filled with some of their cuckcore imagery and some writings about it by Earl. The magazine actually was a cuckold themed pornography publication, but somehow the fellas saw a correlation between their modes of being and art production with the sexual status and activity of the cuck. Maria still had a lot to learn, but she felt something while flipping through the magazine, something beyond the disgust she also felt at the imagery, she felt drawn to art that recognized its own contingency, a slop jacking off on itself, in its own niche, not trying to impress a larger artistic sphere yet beyond an inside joke. Joffrey had told her the fellas were friends with someone working for Kanye West, and that the friends passed on the idea of cuckcore to him. Kanye quickly fell for the ideology and began using it in his music and artistic persona, most notably as the title and theme of his album ‘Cuck’. The fellas didn’t care, they barely even acknowledged it, they just kept doing their thing.

She turned her Toji phone face down on her desk so she couldn’t see the outer display screen, opened up her Toji terminal web browser application and typed in the IP address. The connection was slow, taking several seconds for a server response. The connection seemed to fail, but a redirect link popped up, sending her to https://t.co/trgZr2zz1Q. It wasn’t the real server where she could hang out with them and chat, exchange files and interface with them, it was just their public information board. She had already been there before. She had browsed through their archived art works, cuck-curious, clicking the links, that sinkhole feeling like there was this powerful and amazing artwork that has existed for so long and she knew nothing about, and now discovering she would have to rethink her entire practice, caught between some kind of jealousy and inspiration, she had to become a part of it. She had to actually meet them. The server room IP address would simply not load on her machine and with her connection. She needed some help.

The Pokemaster had been watching, listening, feeling, through the sensor node attachments of a virtual adapter plugged around his penis, it was almost as if he was right there amongst them, like watching a teen sex drama where he could pause the video in real time and have sex with the characters, controlling his minions in the battle verse, he saw the power of Misty’s increasingly fertile womb and her Tamagotchi army exerting its hormonal domination over Joffrey, it was out of the Pokemaster’s control now, Misty was acting with a sense beyond whatever he could have trained into her, and he was falling deeper and deeper into the trap himself, through edges of the dripping brain connection, on the edge of his seat he watched the rape test that fateful sex tape night, the turning point of it all taking hold of him to a new level, he really thought they were gonna have complete sex, he lost his confidence, he thought Misty would give herself to Joffrey, he needed her to fuck the artists, but with Joffrey he was getting jealous, he didn’t expect it, he was too much like him, his cuckulation to Misty was true to the fibonacci spirit of life and existence, if Joffrey had succeeded with Misty, it would have been Joffrey’s salvation, and salvation went against all the plans of the Toji Corporation and their artist domination, salvation went against the very fate of the Pokemaster himself, if the Master could not be saved, how could anyone else, why should they, when salvation is the enemy of art, of technology, of anything, salvation must be stopped at all costs, all operations of life thrive underneath their own destruction, the wires of technology allowing the spreading of the plague rusting out their connections, a billion little children playing the Toji Corporation’s video games, a million art discs circulated, the global economy pumping, hot girls everywhere, Japanese culture inseminated their brains, nice colorful stuff for all to enjoy. If Maria wanted to abandon Vienna Cuck City and go for the Fellaverse in Berlin, he would give her whatever the fuck she wanted, a whole new data center, mobile, connectable with her Tamagotchis, the iPod, that fucking thing, that California fuck toy, well what the fuck did he know, it was the one thing getting him down, at least she had fused it with the Tamagotchi now. Larissa had. Sexy Larissa.

*

“I don’t need a data center, I don’t know what to do with a data center!” Maria scolded the Pokemaster. “I just want into the server room.” He realized with all his cucked out computer knowledge, he had no idea how to get into a cuckcore server room. He had already given her the best possible internet connection, all the special database subscriptions, the fastest modem. “Don’t let me down Mr. Hikiki.” He didn’t know what to do. He remained still, saying nothing, leaf spring keyboard sitting silent in front of him. His anxiety reeled him into the depths of trauma, just when he had adjusted himself to his situation, that of a hopeless cuck, Maria cucked him down another level, no peace, no ending levels of lower down in the cuckdom.

“No, I don’t hate him. I know he loves me.” Maria was talking on the phone to Larissa. “I just really want into that music. Yeah, I heard a brief sound of music when I was trying to connect. He’s like a father to me, but I swear sometimes he’s such a brain dead cuck. All men are. But you can figure out how to get in for me Larissa, can’t you?”

“Of course I can do it, we’re friends.” But she did then have to think, as she was talking, what were the implications of all this, Maria would connect with the fellas and go off to Berlin, she and Maria would be separated, and Maria would be separated from Joffrey, fuck Joff, deep static electro fuck music fry the brain, shut it the fuck Joff, she couldn’t make a decision, It wasn’t her decision, the Pokemaster found her sexy now, it was already the music in her brain, if Maria left her she could have Joffrey for herself, but then could things go on as they were meant to? The mythology was already forming in the minds of the cucks, the weeb fans watching, Maria and Larissa, the two hot art chicks, making art together forever, licking puss and tonguing ass, all the cucks trying to be the special boy to break their bond with his own tongue. the pokeball force of cuck, she was caught inside the ball being thrown around by the cucked master.

“If we wanna get in you have to ask the Pokemaster for a signal augmentor.” The Pokemaster hadn’t officially recruited Larissa yet. In his mind there had already been a series of interviews, every time he had spied on her, pleasuring himself over her, the time was drawing closer, he just needed the full confidence in her skills and susceptibility to being groomed before he would approach her.

“Ugh, can’t we just get one ourselves? I’m getting so sick of him. I’m thinking of leaving. He promised me he’d make me a great artist. But nothing’s happening for me at all!”

“No, let’s just see if he buys it for us. It’s a cool machine and really expensive.” Larissa really did need more money. She only had a small student loan and couldn’t afford a lot of art supplies. She was secretly jealous of Maria for getting all her support from Toji Corp. She didn’t completely admit it to herself even, but it was part of the reason she was so willing to help Maria, she wanted to get noticed by Toji too, she wanted some success, some support.

Larissa analysed the formatting of the fella server response. She saw that it was some really old equipment, East German probably, they must have been poor just like her. “Besides, we need this really old one, they aren’t available anymore, but Toji probably has something stored in an old factory basement somewhere.”

Larissa is maybe a more healthy obsession for me, thought the Pokemaster to himself, more motherly and comforting than that pussy demon Maria. He tracked down a machine and had it shipped right away. No, he thought again, as the package tracking status had just changed to ‘in transit’, I don’t need a mom, I have a mom, I need a demon.

Larissa and Maria sat shoulder to shoulder at Maria’s computer desk. They plugged the machine into her Toji Comm modem. “Now let’s see what happens when we try to connect.” Maria typed in the IP address while Larissa handled the machine. Maria hit enter, the signal augmentor whirred up with a mild hum, the screen got fuzzy, a signal pulsed like a sine wave, the IP loaded more. The connection was establishing, it was working at least a little bit. The sine wave on the screen started to warp and take shape into something else, it wasn’t a graph, it was an image, the computer screen was displaying what looked like pixel coordinates in text format, on the machine screen a fuzzy line, like MS Paint spray paint tool carved out the clear image of a penis and testicles, the image bounced around a little then faded away. Success. They had loaded the server room splash screen.

1/2

[Earl @earl16o1]

Finally the market conditions allow me to share my meme coin shill paintings in good conscience (excluding $fella which i always felt comfortable shilling) here was my favorite coin of the cycle, $LMI lockheed martin inu @LMIerc

[path.eth 🛡️ @Cryptopathic]

finally got this up on the wall of my office - thank you @earl16o1

[tm 𓆸ʬʬʬ @tommouna]

Rare to come across a text with so much free alpha. Some of you will be waking up a lot richer tomorrow. Don’t forgot there’s not long left to make it before being relegated to the permanent underclass. Take action now ⬇️

[Ilja Karilampi 🫟 @akontown]

London street signs → laser-engraved mirrors → digital relics. HOUSE OF JOY merges rave culture with fine art (inspired by Gerhard Richter). 100 pieces, each pairing physical mirror with animated GIF. On https://t.co/9sEs19Acop 27 Jan

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@JW100x when an asset breaks a 7 year high in any sector you should just park.

[spiky dj - ?? MINTING OUT @spiky_dj_]

Capitalist Red
Oil on canvas
@Pumpfun

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@MMifella You will also miss gipto v2

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@spiky_dj_ Check out Alan carr

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@punk7635 Mifella

[Ilja Karilampi 🫟 @akontown]

Real shit met @MMifella at the airport this morning we had a coffee and now I'm soooo back

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@adolt @kanyewest Dave baby

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@blknoiz06 Costco

[spiky dj - ?? MINTING OUT @spiky_dj_]

spikefella2

[spiky dj - ?? MINTING OUT @spiky_dj_]

spikefella2

[beware of a spiked god @noCapSpiky]

@MMifella You have to spend money to make money etcetc

[spiky dj - ?? MINTING OUT @spiky_dj_]

kino