2003 ford ranger bed size

For reference: 1) I didn’t have a scale with me but weighed the rest of my ounce the next day and had like 13 grams left
2) I consumed these over the course of 2.5 hours as i was looking for something wilder than I had ever experienced before.
With that out of the way, I’ll preface by saying that it was, in fact, wild.
This was one week ago. That morning I had hit up my plug and bought an ounce of dry penis envy mushrooms. Around 9 pm i began eating them. I had researched lemon tekking and decided to try it, so for the first few grams I ate some of the mushrooms raw and others by soaking them in lemon juice.
Fast forward 1 hour. Im playing video games with friends and begin to realize that my crosshair is expanding and contracting, as well as fish graffiti in the game has begun to move in a swimming motion. I look around my room and notice tiny red green and blue dots flying across my vision. this has happened before, and I wanted to see more. So I take roughly the same dose i had previously, probably slightly more. I assume I’m up to 8-9 grams at this point.
Fast forward another hour. Im tripping balls at this point. no doubt about it, in fact so hard that I’m not even playing any games anymore, I’m just watching my friends play as they stream on discord. as i watch them play csgo, every flick they do in game seems instant, every kill looks perfect, the four corners of my monitor shooting lines from the center of my screen i can only describe as going into hyperspace, and the walls in game are warping around them. I would describe it as a hyperbolic edit of pro gameplay with changing colors and changing game speeds.
But i wanted more. I bust out another few mushrooms totaling what i assume to be another 5+ grams. down them by lemon tekking, and proceed to watch some rocket league and throw their csgo game on the second monitor. Instantly i can tell i hadn’t fully come up from the second high dose i took, completely disregard the dose i had just ingested. As I’m watching this rocket league highlights video, the field immediately seems so massive, which i could only describe as the size and height of a Fifa soccer stadium, and while the ball is bouncing around it rapidly grows and shrinks with the distance, while also rapidly curving and changing speeds as it is boomed around.
30 minutes later: This is where i realized i was in uncharted territory as far as tripping has gone for me. The rocket league cars and accessories had begun to fully warp as well. taking on a fuzzy, cartoon like look. imagine a 4 year old drawing a car with a blunt crayon. thats what all of these flying and flipping cars had begun looking like all while the ball was still being crazy like before.
Fast forward another 2 hours. I get off of my computer just now feeling like the come up is reaching an end. This is where the peak begins.
I look at the blanket on my bed. Its folding in on its self seemingly kneading through the fabric of space all the while in a heap of gray yarn. I lay down and instantly cannot feel my body. In fact i feel completely outside of it. And simultaneously just a part of every surface my limbs are touching. My right arm and head is just part of the pillow. My body is just a part of the bed. My face a part of the air above me. and my left arm, clutching the wall, in my reality is just a stud within said wall. This may sound rough in description but to me it was like i had simply broken form and melted into my surroundings.
I then turned on shroom music on youtube and turned out the lights. what followed was beautiful.
Red, Orange, Green, purple, and blue triangular patterns twirling and flipping through each other all across my vision, bright as day. They all also would flip in and out perfectly on the beat of the music in my headphones. I sat here watching this for a while before the body feelings from before became so intense that i felt like a tree rooted through the entire earth. Connected fully to anything and everything, melded all into one being. As i looked up into what felt like the biblically accurate heavens, i began noticing an entity forming out of these colorful triangles. At this point i couldn’t even describe the colors i was seeing, but i just knew it was all kinds. I actually started tearing up due to the beauty i was witnessing. I was floored with an overwhelming sense of peace and love. This entity asked if i wanted to be taken deeper, and knowing i must be getting higher, i obliged. I fully let go and was washed into a room full of these entities, where i danced and swayed to the beat, being spoken to and beckoned by each of them in turn. They talked to me about relationships and how to not take them for granted. this lasted for the entire 2.5 hour song that i had played and when it finally ended, i was so mentally spent that i rolled over and had the most peaceful rest i had ever had since a child.
I hope you guys enjoyed sharing my experience for just a few moments and i hope that you will find the right time to find yourself in a similar way that i did, even if it isn’t through such a high dose. All in all, best experience with psychedelics i have ever had and i loved every second.

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Creepy crawly creepy crawly spider...
Creepy crawly - tendrils. More like tentacles!
Oh, ok, maybe a spider plant doesn’t have tendrils, technically speaking, let alone tentacles. But these leaves are starting to look real creepy, in any case.
Yes - this spider plant I can’t get rid of. I’ve tried, although in a rather half-hearted way I must admit. And I don’t have it in me to just rip it to pieces with my bare hands.
I put it out on the front porch during a week of almost non-stop rain and wind, waiting for it to be killed or at least badly damaged by outside forces and do you know it just lapped it all up and totally refused to succumb.
Well...I admit I didn’t put it too far out. The softie in me prevented that.
Why am I so hung up about a damned spider plant? Why do I feel like I have to get rid of it? And after it’s been with me for over thirty years, too! And it’s never done anything to me. Has it? Only just grew and grew, like plants are supposed to do. And here I am with wicked designs upon its life. But I just don’t want it in the house. There’re way too many plants as it is.
All my life people have been giving me plants. I don’t know why. There must be something about me that screams subconsciously that of all the things in the world the thing I need most desperately is a plant. And that intensifies at Christmas-time, and I get all these exquisitely-wrapped, ultra-refined, super-delicate, extra-brightly coloured things requiring the utmost care. And I’m not particularly cut out for looking after plants. I don’t have green fingers. I don’t have any patience to speak of, and I tell people I don’t want any plants. It just goes to show that people never really listen to you I guess. At least plants are better than people in that respect. They don’t make any pretence of listening to you.
Anyway the result is that I’ve ended up with a whole houseful of the things. They don’t pay any attention to the fact that I can’t look after them properly and go on flourishing. These aren’t just houseplants, they’re taking-over-the-house-plants. Crowding me out of my own home. That monster of a cheeseplant for example, looming over my bed. Honestly I’ve lost count of of the number of times I’ve cut it down to size (literally) and replanted and given away cuttings and still the thing just grows and grows. Same thing goes for the yucca.
But that spider plant. Sitting out there and refusing even to wilt. I could never kill any plant in cold blood, but how I wish it would just do the decent thing and die slowly, now that I’ve put it out there! But it is one tough customer.
There. I’ve moved it further out ... but really, I do feel a brute. Waging an unprovoked war against the plant kingdom which just looks back at me silently, impassively...reproachfully?
Aren’t I being ridiculous. It doesn’t mind me, right?
Even so ...
It does look a bit battered, I admit, but it’s still VERY much alive.
What if it never dies?
What if it outlasts me?. That’d be rich. Or ironic, or something.
Or what if it does die and it then it comes back to haunt me? To wreak its revenge?
Oh dear, I can’t stand this ....
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Well, I’ve brought it back in.
Really, this whole plant business is getting me down.
I don’t want them around any more. And I’ve tried giving them away but generally people don’t take them. Even when I offer them absolutely free. You’d think that people’d jump at the chance of getting anything for free, especially a nice new glossy plant to brighten up their deadly dull, hideously designed living rooms. But no. And then that one time when I had the bright idea of carting them all off to a local plant sale. And guess what! Not one of them sold! Not one! I was too discouraged to ever try such a thing again. It just seems like fate.
And I have a nasty feeling that even if I did succeed in giving one of them away it’d somehow find its way back, like a homing pigeon or a fiendishly faithful dog or something of the sort.
You see? These damn things are making me superstitious now.
I really must snap out of it...
Look at them, though. All standing together like they were whispering. Whispering about me, no doubt! As if they were conspiring against me, to oust me from my own home.
Of course, I’m REALLY being ridiculous now. I realize that. I’m still sane..if only just.
Too much time to think and ponder about things I regret, and all that. And no-one for company but the plants. Warm, green living things. The forgotten link with nature, ‘to one who has been too long in city pent’ ... silly bits of poetry coming to mind now. That was one of the Romantics, wasn’t it? They were always banging on about that stuff.
Oh dear. I wish I had something else to focus my mind.
They are creeping me out , though, these plants. Even though I know they can’t really be plotting against me, or anything crazy like that. I mustn’t start imagining things. I guess they’ve just been reading that silly book too much. The one I lent them. That old Wyndham yarn The Day of the Triffids. I just thought they’d enjoy reading a book about plants taking over the world and all. But of course I explained to them it’s only fiction. They’d understand that, I’m sure.
But what if they start getting ideas? I mean, really?
And just to look at them - they definitely look as if they're all crowding round together, discussing something.
Me?
Are they planning to get rid of me?
Not my dear old houseplants ...
But even if they are, why am I being such a pussy about it?
I can get back at them too, can't I? They're just ... plants.
You know - I could even try to ...
... eat them, maybe ....
I haven't eaten in so long, just worrying about my goddam houseplants, but now, come to think of it, they do look rather tasty ....
All those lovely greens.
Momma never had to tell me to eat my greens, I just did - automatically. I used to eat the houseplants as well, come to think of it, and I could never understand why she told me off for that. It's not like they made me sick or anything.
Maybe I am one of them, really ...
I never even thought of that!
Maybe this resentment I've felt against them is just because I'm trying to deny my true identity, or something. And these days you can identify as just about anything, can't you?
Well, anyways. I'm ready for them if they come for me.
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It's started!
They tried to ambush me as I was leaving the room. I felt one of those tendrils curling round my ankle which made me lose my balance and fall sprawling to the floor. I can't get away.
They're looming in over me.
It's the crisis. Maybe, finally, I really do have to face up to what I really am ....
If I can just make them understand I'm one of them .... then surely they'll let me go.
But if not - well, I've still got that piece of cutlery in one hand ....

When it comes to bedroom furniture, the bed frame is often the centerpiece of the room. Not only does it provide a comfortable place to sleep, but it can also add style and personality to your space. However, with so many bed frame options on the market, it can be overwhelming to choose the right one for your room. In this blog post, we will provide you with tips on how to choose the best bed frame for your room.
2. Consider the Size of Your Room
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If they wanted the Jews gone, first of all, why not just put them on boats out to France? It would take longer, but what they came up with was just dumb. Garbage ass France would have just taken the immigrants, problem solved - they a bunch of pussies, and no other world power would have given a fuck.
But they just started gathering up and slaughtering civilians and residents? Pretty sure you're not supposed to do that... How was everyone like, "yeah this seems by the book... I've been alive for long enough to know that this is normal and fine behavior..."
It doesn't make sense. I can only draw one conclusion. Germans are mostly mentally handicapped. It makes sense, because you always see the fat blonde kid, eating a giant sausage that he just holds and eats like it's an apple, saying "yay chap, what's to do? Spriken ze doiche?" and he has the helicopter hat on his head, and wants to eat jelly creams after the mustard covered sausages, or whatever the fuck.
Of course they wouldn't put up with outsiders, because they're retarded and don't know how to do anything other than make sausages and shitty homes to live in. Literally all you have to do is eat, and shit in your bathroom and sleep in your bed. So Germans are just people sized cats with people sized houses.
So, their solution was to just capture people and burn them up? Those fat, stupid little sausage eating kids grew up to be retarded murderers who forgot how to not murder an entire group of people for seemingly no worthwhile reason, other than "booo I'm poor... Let's kill the smart rich people and figure out how to do what they've been doing to get rich, while selling us mustard sausages."
I think the Frenchies are to blame. Anyone who deals with the French always just want to kill themselves, and everyone around them. I think it's not really fair to give a bunch of drunk, fat helicopter hat kids with guns, any kind of of anything - because they're just going to accidentally murder someone who just wanted to help, probably. I never played the original resident evil, but I feel like the monster people there are just garbage ass Frenchies, or Canadians, or
Jews. I'm going to go shit on my balls now. Sadly, they're all dead now. Link is in that new game,where he saves the printer paper by not being a part of the story.

Handsome Dudes of Pune,
I am based in PUNE and this is for only Pune Studs. I hope this group has some really good looking, sophisticated, educated, charming and lady killer genuine guys who are not cheapsters and desperate for sex just to get in bed with a lady by hook or by crook. Good looking means good looking by my standards not by yours.
Assuming above, here is my message for such guys -
I have been married to Anamika for the last 18 years. She is a 39 years old woman- a perfect MILF and gorgeous lady with luscious lips, beautiful curly hair, figure of 38B-32-38, thunder thighs and a sculpted butt to die for. I am also a good looking handsome guy but I have many strong cuck fantasies about her to be lived in real life for the last many years.
I am a wannabe cuckold with a strong cuck mindset for the last many years however she has not been on the same page due to her reservations on the moral side and the reputation risk involved. However, she has one hell of a wild streak in her when it comes to sex and kinks and she is generally insatiable by me in sexual pleasure. I have tried in the past to convert her and got some limited success due to an internal slut hidden within her which she resists badly to come to the fore. Unfortunately, she had a bad experience and also some mistakes of mine, she refused to come forward again and has been closed for the last 2-3 years.
Major stuff tried with her in past -

1. She had agreed to a massage at my home and it was finally converted to a nude massage. The deal was that if she loses her self control, the Guy (who was a state level athlete) will get to enjoy it, else he will leave. She never lost her self control.
2. We had met an online friend of mine in a bar and he was good looking and skillful in establishing a great rapport just in that meeting with her and put her at ease. He made her try some dares such as asking her to go to Pub’s toilet and remover her panty and show it back to her as a proof, then he touched her under the table and dared her not to let it reflect on her face and then taking her to a movie where we three sat together and he fingered her bare pussy under the wrap on dress she was wearing (her panty was in his pocket all this while) and fondled her boobs over the dress.
3. Introduced another good online friend of mine who was perfect, looks wise and in all other aspects and he also created a good friendship with her in the first meeting but he was very patient and met her 2-3 times before trying anything. Then he took her to movie and pub dates. During the fourth such date they made out very passionately on the back seat of my car while I was driving. She was so horny that she dug her nails in his back and offered to suck her boobs by lowering her dress.It went on for a good 20 minutes.
4. With the same friend we made a Lonavala trip and stayed in the same room. She had a lot of soft fun, deep kissing (tongue to tongue), boobs sucking and fingering her except penetration which she did not allow. They were constantly chatting during this one month period on Whatsapp since they had met.
5. A lot could have happened with this guy with some patience, but he messed it up soon after and then she never met him. He boasted to her about her many such conquests of housewives and which made her feel cheap and common. Mind you, she has a very high self esteem and does not want to have a self perception like any other common housewife as she comes from a high class erstwhile royal family.

This was the end of my good times as she never opened up after that. She was not even willing to talk about it.
Now I am trying to go down that path again and looking for a handsome dude above 25 years who can meet her in person as a friend of mine and then charm her gradually to pull her into being his GF for the long term. This is possible even after her seeming resistance as she is not sexually satisfied by me not because I do not have enough sized cock or I have an erection problem- it is because I have a strong Cuckold mindset and I have a usual tendency to jerk to imagination of her being taken by another guy rather than fucking her and she remains high and dry. I have not even fucked her more than 25 times in last 5 years and not more than 100 times in last 18 years and so much so that when she went to her her Gynaecologist last month - she refused to believe that she has been married for last 18 years judging by the tightness of her Vagina. She said that it seems she has vagina of a woman who is almost a virgin. Our kid was a cesarean delivery so it corroborated this phenomenon.
I have many cuck fantasies which we can decide between us and try to live once she is cracked. For example-

1. We go out shopping, dining out, drinking and you behave as her husband and I am with you guys just like a friend- she does lingerie shopping with you suggesting to her which ones to buy while she tries those lingerie. You and she decide everything on the outing as husband and wife and I just follow. I drive as a Chauffeur and you and she sit in the back seat like the couple. We three go to movies and she sits in between and you play with her the way you and she likes. You two just ignore my presence and do everything as a couple.
2. Similar things like above we try on a vacation. Where we three stay in the same room but I sleep on an extra mattress and you two take the bed.
3. You own her in every sense (with her own will). You make her try exhibitionism by making her flash to others as per your will. We are on a beach and you two on the same mattress with you smooching , fondling, feeling,fingering her in public. Take her out for dinners, drinks without panties in short dresses.
4. Some extreme fantasies which I do not know whether we will try in real or not depending on how compelling you are as a Bull to me and to her- such as fucking her raw always, giving her facial with your cum, make her try a gang bang with couple of your friends with she being treated as a sex toy (without hurting her offcourse)
5. Can try many more depending on your imaginations and suggestions.

You need to be educated, sophisticated, charming, have a good pleasing personality and a nice huge cock (part of my fantasy) with a kinky mindset.
We will connect on chat first on telegram and gauge the mental compatibility then take it to real life if feasible. You should be able to provide me with a psychological kick to the extent that you are the right person to make me your cuckold and dominate me psychologically in a natural way (if you have these capabilities, you would not need to fake it) that I may even allow you to breed my wifey or use her in any way you want ( you may make her agree) for long term. She needs someone who can engage her in interesting and witty conversations, make her laugh out loud, make her feel special, can connect with her in a genuine manner and then such a person can make her fall for him for good.
Please note this is no guaranteed offer for sex with her and nothing will happen in a hurry. It may take a long time so those with patience only should connect. Ultimate right to move ahead with you or not is with me and I will not be able to entertain every Tom, Dick and Harry. Please keep in mind that when I say that you should be good looking and fit, it means good looking and fit as per my point of view and subjectivity, you may have different views about yourself and you are entitled to them, no offense meant there.
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So I just got officially diagnosed with endo. Since I was 10 I have had horrible period pain. I mean preemptive take advil and pray I don't puke pain. Endo runs in my family, but I was told to try to manage it with advil. In 2019 I finally got tired of the pain. I went in for scans, and it showed some abnormalities in my abdomen, and a noticeable one on my bladder.
They deemed it a bad bladder infection and sent me on my way. Antibiotics did nothing. My pain was the same. I later ended up in the hospital for unrelated kidney stones and they decided the whole ordeal was kidney stones. After my kidney stone surgery things weren't much better. In fact, I started getting ovulation cramps and bladder pain. If my bladder is full I feel like puking and get cramps. I can't regulate my body temperature to save my life and get chills in anything under 20⁰C. I get ovulation cramps. I get period cramps that go all up my back and down my legs. 3 weeks of the month I am in pain. I pass blood clots the size of loonies and toonies. Some clots are bug enough to cause discomfort passing. Ill bleed thru a super tampon in 1-2 hours. I switched to a diva cup and that lasts about 3-4 hours on a bad day. I can sleep 4 hours, 6 hours, 8 hours, or 10 hours and wake up feeling the same exhaustion. Ive always gotten sick on my period. Dizzy, light headed, achey, and since having Covid last November have all my long Covid symptoms come back. It gets tiring to walk across a room. I bloat bad enough people have argued with me on whether or not im pregnant and am in so much discomfort when bloated I cannot eat. I go at week a month on maybe half a meal per day if lucky. Somedays I live off juice or a smoothie because I am so uncomfortable and struggle to eat.
My doctor strongly felt that it was endo, but she was unable to diagnose it as it is outside her area of expertise and none of the specialists she sent me to were willing to help. I cannot take that much sick time off work, so I just dealt with it. Thankfully I have a wonderful department manager who is 100% in my corner and understands when I have a bad day. She is fantastic and has been a huge help and is ok with me doing easier tasks on bad days and taking a breather if I need it.
This past Friday I called a local walk in place that specializes in young adult health and has women's health specialists on call. I went in and gave them my info on Monday. They had me come in Wednesday to go over things. They found endo on all the scans from 2019. I have endo on my bladder. I have it all thru my abdomen. Every test and scan clearly showed endo as the only possible cause and it was just missed. If any doctor had called in a women's health specialist it would be an easy cut and dry diagnosis. I turn 24 in a couple of months. It took 14 years to diagnose me.
I was given mefenamic acid as a temporary relief. It has helped so much. I take 2 before bed and I'm not in pain. I actually slept while on my period. I get a bit light headed and have a slight headache, but so much better than the cramps. It also lightened my period. It is about 30% lighter when I take the pill compared to normal. I don't have giant clots. I have a few loonies sized ones which I understand are still bigger than normal, but they are manageable and don't cause pain to pass. I'm still bloated and eating is a struggle, but I can eat light meals and not throw up since the pain is better managed.
I go in on the 29th to have a Mirena inserted. I am excited. The doctor said I should feel way better after a few months on it, and the thought of not being in pain for 3/4 of my life is so exciting. If the IUD doesn't work then we'll look into getting a surgery in the future, but I am just so happy I am diagnosed, I know what it is, and I'm getting treatment. I can't really remember how it felt to not be worrying about pain or when my period will randomly decide to show up or skip a month. I can't remember not being bloated once a month and having strangers ask about due dates and give unsolicited advice. I started dressing in flowy dresses and high waisted pants because I got these comments less and none of my friends understood why I got so insecure and stressed when people would congratulate me and offer me advice on baby raising and ask about my husband (very single, very against casual hook ups for myself, very much want a big family and know that may not be easy or possible) I am so excited to go thru life and learn what normal is supposed to feel like. I am a little nervous about the IUD insertion, but so happy to actually have a chance at enjoying life more.

To quote Mr Gump, 'I'm not a smart man but I know what love is,' I love my Ford Ranger. The bloke at the dealership said it had power going into the tub. My partner and I went to grab everything we needed for the fridge freezer off a second battery in the back.
However, one problem, there's not your standard 12V plug in the back. Instead, what you can find is the above pictures. Image one is higher than image two. Image two is what I have gathered... is a 7 way connector. No idea what the grey plug is.
To setup my 12v system, willi need to get a new 12V harness or can I somehow make this work?
TIA 🤙🏽

What is the very best material to use for making templates (to glue on the wallpaper, mini paneling, etc)? I am bedridden and need to work on flat panels to glue into the dollhouse once completed. I’m an longtime miniaturists but had given it up when I became debilitated by lupus and multiple sclerosis. They say I’m dying, but that was a over a year and a half ago. I’m still here and I’m still just brimming over with miniature ideas in my head! But how to accomplish from my bed and my chair? I’ve kind of mastered scrapbooking and with my limitations and I’ve got my bedroom literally set up like a craft room with floor-to-ceiling shelves. You should see the look on nurses’ and doctors’ faces when they come in! The “minimalist” types almost faint from horror!! 😀 Anyhow - my problem: I’m planning a double-story roombox for my mom’s birthday and I decided to try using as a shell those clear acrylic storage/display boxes that even have a clear, secure door on the front for access. I’m ready to go with all my supplies organized and accessible, but now I’ve realized that just like scrapbooking - I’m going to have to create my walls and floors with some kind of “flat” template that can then be glued into the box. I need something that comes in small sizes like 8 x 10, 12 x 12, etc to keep cutting ti a minimum, it also need to be able to cut easily but be sturdy enough to hold up to my real wood paneling and real plaster architectural features (as I used to be skilled at). I hear a lot about chipboard, mfd, foam board, insulation board, etc. I have no idea which of these would be right for my needs. I considered using my heaviest weight scrapbook paper, but will it hold up when glued to the acrylic walls? What about a heavy ceiling with metal studs? Floor-to-ceiling wood panels? What material, weight, thickness? Any help world be greatly appreciated. 👍

Sometime in the next few weeks I'll be installing a backup camera for the first time in my 2007 Sport Trac. One bad thing about having a 2nd gen is that they're so rare compared to the 1st gen that you can't really find any good instructions/youtube videos about various things that aren't just general Explorer issues. Tons of backup camera tutorials about the 1st gen, pretty much nothing for the second.
While digging through some Ford forums I found a guy who installed one on a 2nd Gen ST who said in his 2018 post that there's a vent in between the cab and the bed that he ran the wire into, but for the life of me I can't find any documentation about where it might be before I start tearing the trim and carpet out of the vehicle. (I'm hesitant to jack up my truck at the moment unless absolutely necessary for a few reasons, from what I've seen described there's ample room in the frame rails to run the cable itself safely, and I can reach all of that without a jack). I also would like to avoid drilling into the cab if possible, and it seems like it is. Unsurprisingly the thread I opened on a ford forum just resulted in people saying "i dunno". Are there any resources for schematics or diagrams that might tell me where this cabin vent is, how hard it is to reach, etc?
Alternately if any of you have ran cables in a truck I'd love to hear any advice you have. I know it's relatively simple but I like to over prepare.

last year, when we got him back from the groomevet he had red little wounds on his body, when we asked about them, they told us that he most likely had them already but when they shaved him, they became visible. then he started licking those wounds, the one on his back specifically. He got the wound so big and deep, we used antibiotic creams and bepanthol accompanied by the cone. that took a looong time to heal and we visited the vet countless times, he got allergy injections. which only helped about 2-3 days time passed and when fur grew longer it slowly stopped. we got him shaved again a few times since then, and a few days ago we did again. (different groomer,had no problems till now) He is miserable. he created a penny sized wound on his back, where the old one used to be, (it was completely healed” he cannot stop scratching, he slept in my closet for two days then,we put the cone on him which made him move around the house more. Last night he wouldn’t stop moving, i couldnt sleep a bit and was worried, he was meowing, clearly uncomfortable, moving around the room since he couldnt scratch himself. and his back was twitching constantly. then he threw up on my bed twice in 30mins. and he looks like he shakes when he breathes out. we will of course take him to the vet but we already went to several vets and no one can solve this issue. They think its allergic but we switched to special food etc there is nothing we can find that could causw allergies.And i guess the second flare up started after my sister mopped the house, but we clean the house very often so idk if that is related.

Hi guys!
This might be a really silly post but I thought I'd ask anyway. I just bought a 55 inch G1 coming from a 2019 Samsung the frame qled 50 inch. I know the size isn't a big difference but with my use case I am unable to get much bigger right now as my tv is on a moving stand because I'm in bed a lot as I have a physical disability.
I'm just wondering, am I going to notice a big jump?
I will be using it for pc gaming, PS5 and movies/ TV shows.

(I don't seem to be able to change my user flair, but I'm 41 now, and still LL.)
So, six-ish years ago, I came here with some, as it turned out, rather serious dead bedroom problems. You all (or those of you who are still around after this long) gave me a lot of great advice and helped me see more clearly what the issues were, and that there was only so much I could really be expected to do to solve things.
Well, since Reddit is busy getting ready to torch itself, I was prepping to delete my stuff and remembered I had this old account. So I thought "Why not make an update?"
For those who haven't been here that long (which I hope is not most of you), a quick story recap:
My wife wanted lots of sex, but she wanted it a certain, very ritualistic, way. Encounters that were shorter than 90 minutes were "selfish" on my end. I had a lot of rules I had to follow (never explicitly stated; learned from trial and error), and if I slipped on any of them, we'd end up in an often baffling fight. Like, for example, give her at least two orgasms before I penetrate her, and then hold my orgasm until we can go together, but don't make it clear that I'm trying to hold off an orgasm because then I'm not "with her". That sort of thing.
My attempts to communicate my anxiety and my desires were stonewalled. Finally, after 15 years of a marriage and several years of this sex conflict, my giveafuck finally threw a rod when we had perfect sex, when everything finally went 100% right, when I did everything flawlessly, and then she told me it was too good, and she was surprised that she connected with me that way after all these relationship struggles, and that it must indicate something was wrong with her. Like her standards were slipping, or something (I assume; I never got a comprehensible explanation).
That's about when I stopped posting here, because all the advice in the world wasn't going to fix this. Sex was, literally, always going to be wrong somehow, and it would always be my fault.
Well, a lot has happened since then. It took about another year and change, but I got a divorce. With distance, I can see there were a truckload of other issues in the marriage; I'm still having moments where I'm just minding my own business, in the shower or driving or something, and then suddenly think of an event or an argument and go "Hold on... that was really fucked up!"
I got tested for Low-T, and that wasn't the problem; my T-levels were fine, and actually a smidge high for my age range. So my working theory at the time I left was that I wasn't LL; I was just LL with her. I got several opportunities to test that out, and, it's not... exactly? true.
My L is higher these days, but it never got back to where it was early in my marriage. There's definitely still anxiety associated with sex, and the thought of spending a whole weekend in bed with someone is still deeply terrifying. Furthermore, while I enjoyed the act of sex, I always finished a sexual encounter feeling distinctly unfulfilled. It's hard to explain. I'd be laying there in bed and not feeling euphoric or fuzzy or happy or even necessarily sleepy, just... kind of empty. Whatever nebulous expectation I'd had for the encounter was still unmet, and I was kind of numb.
So I gave up on dating for a while, hoping to maybe get my shit together personally with some therapy and medication before diving back into the waters that had clearly screwed up my head the last time. During that time of no relationships and no sex, I discovered that sex is now not all that big a deal to me. I'm fine without it. It's like, I enjoy the act of sex, and if someone says "Hey, wanna have sex?", I'll probably enthusiastically say yes, but all the difficulties I associate with the "before" part and the "after" part just kind of makes it... not worth it? That is to say, I don't really miss it. On the occasions that I do miss it, fifteen minutes on Literotica completely fixes that. Meter reset to 0, all functions returned to normal, I can continue on with whatever I was doing in a fine mood.
I've started just identifying as gray/ace, sexually. It's more complicated than that, and I don't exactly fit the definition, but it's quick and simple and close enough to true to serve the purpose. I think I'm this way because my experiences fucked me up in the head, rather than because it's my in-born true sexual orientation, but, like, there's not an "it's complicated" flag and I really don't feel like the question of "what's your sexuality?" is best answered with a novel of a size that could have been written by a dead Russian.
I have a girlfriend now who I love very much, and she's also pretty firmly ace, so it works out well. She was kind of skeptical of me at first, which, I don't blame her, because, apparently, all of her previous relationships have at some point decided to try to "fix" her as soon as they got tired of not getting laid. But it's been over a year now; the cuddles are great, we have one less thing to fight about, and if it ever comes up that the stars align and we're both in the mood, I'll bet it'll be fantastic. But if that never comes up, that'll be fine too.
So that's the end of my story, on the astronomically small off-chance that anyone was still wondering how that all turned out.
Thanks to everyone in this community, for providing a safe place for me to ask questions and talk about my experiences, and for helping me gain some perspective on my situation, and especially for showing me where I could have been the one fucking things up, so I could go get the tools to explore the possibility and uncover more about what was happening. I hope the folks responsible for creating this place can continue to provide these services to folks on whatever platform ends up replacing Reddit.
EDITED TO ADD: I just remembered something that might also be interesting. So, back in the day, I posted about how we'd both taken the Mojo Upgrade questionnaire, which is a sort of sex quiz you take with a partner where you both, separately, answer Yes/Maybe/No to a long list of sexual activities. At the end, the quiz e-mails you only the results that you both said "Yes" or "Maybe" to. So, ostensibly, you don't have to directly reveal your darkest kink to your partner to find out if they're into it.
In my post, I mentioned that she said "Yes" to things were surprising and encouraging, but that it turned out to be misleading; they were only "Yes" in incredibly hyper-specific scenarios that would never realistically happen, and "No" otherwise.
WELL, IT WAS ACTUALLY WORSE THAN THAT
She admitted, some many months later, that she'd said "Yes" to literally everything so that she could see all the things I said "Yes" or "Maybe" to, in order to find out all my secret wicked little perversions. Everything she told me to explain her "Yes"s were on-the-spot lies to cover up the scheme.
So, like, heads up; a schemey person with dubious goals can game that quiz.

Sooooo I've always felt some kind of way about it but it wasnt something that kept me up at night.. I've gotten through all my trauma but now that I'm a young adult who wants to be more sexually involved past abuse is surfacing. I can't explain everything as I only remember small portions of my childhood but I'll do my best.
Basically the earliest I remember is my neighbor who was a girl and slightly older than me was the one who introduced me to sex. Basically both our parents were shit and never around which is how this happened in the first place... but to keep it short and somewhat PG she made me perform sexual acts on her. One day my brother walked in on us and told my mom. Well later that day she beat me with a belt for it and that was that.
Skip to some random time later that I don't remember... but the sexual acts had continued with the neighbor and she had me watch porn and draw out what I saw because she wanted me to give my drawings to her. My mom found the drawings and again I got beat for it... although this time she asked me where I got the idea from and I told her who. She believed the answer, that it was my neighbor, but she preferred a different one. So she beat me again until I gave her a different name. This went on and off idk how many times but basically she beat me multiple times in a row until I told her my grandma's name (her mother) because she hated her and always wanted a reason to start stuff.
That's the main memory... but following the years after that my mother continued to make me sleep in the same bed as her despite us having a 4bedroom house I never had my own. She would sleep next to me naked in "our" queen sized bed... not very big obviously..and walk around the house naked.
I was going though puberty and started growing public hair. I would get ingrown often and she never taught me how to fit it myself... she enjoyed making me pull my pants down so she could pluck the hairs herself. Eventually I stopped telling her I was getting them and so she resorted to taking my pants off and doing this and lord knows what else while I was sleep. I never caught her doing it but she admitted this to me.
Skip to teenage years when I started having a highschool boyfriend she started talking about how I needed to date "a strong man who could control me" and that if I decided to have sex I would need to get her approval on the person first. She said that she wanted to get a lock and key jewelry set so that I would have the lock and she could give the key portion to the person I'll have sex with. Mind you were not religious at all... never have been. She was just super controlling over me and obsessed with me having sex. When I broke up with my boyfriend her response was literally "what happened? Did he rape you?" Also because we were dumb kids, my friends would sometimes send me dumb sexually themed memes and I would get yelled at for having them on my phone. It was totally uncalled for because even now I still see memes like that and they're not serious at all. If I had a kid who saw them I would just be like "bruh really" not yell at them.
There was also a few times where she would kiss my neck, and she would often grab my butt and breast. I was very verbal about my discomfort but she didn't care. She would literally say "you came from me so this(body part)is mine" or "incest is best" while stroking my arm.
I did have more to say but now my brain is saying that's enough for today cuz I can't remember anything else even though I know there's more😭 I lowkey feel like my mom was a pedophile but idk like I'm at a stage where I know what happened to me and I realize the effects... but my brain still has no feeling towards it. For some reason I also get this feeling that something worse happened to me but I just don't remember what happened? Idk if that makes sense. Because I have this fear of men overall, but especially a specific race of men that is totally uncalled for due to having no bad experiences with them that I can recall. Ya know? It's just this odd gut feeling that I get but can't explain.
But basically to summarize... now that I'm older I have had sex but each time I dissociated send froze so don't even know what really happened. I hate being touched or kissed, I don't want to hear about sex and even watching people kiss in movies gives me anxiety so I turn it off. I've tried experimenting with myself sexually to try to rewire my brain, but everything just ends up painful from myself tensing up so much.
So yeahhhhh that's it for now.

Hey everyone,
Love to hear your thoughts on purchasing a property to live in. My partner and I both work in the city. We’re looking for a safe and accessible suburb with cafe and restaurant options nearby. We haven’t had kids. We’ve been going to many inspections lately and have managed to narrow down our choices to two options:

1. Option 1:

A 3 bed 3 bed 2 car parks townhouse in Brunswick East. It’s 2 mins walk to a tram stop direct to the CBD. New building and extremely accessible.
The only downsides are the price, slightly over 1 million, and the bedrooms being a bit small. We can stretch our budget a bit because this area will continue to grow imo.

1. Option 2:

A townhouse in Pascoe Vale, quite decent size with large bedrooms and a small garden. It falls within our budget range of 800-850k, which is perfect.
The downside is the location. It’s not close to any public transport. 20-minute walk to the train station, and a 30-minute drive to the CBD. We’re uncertain about the growth of this area so any insights on this would be super helpful.
Our plan is to live in our first house for a few years before having kids, so price, capital growth, and lifestyle are our top priorities. Would greatly appreciate your advice on which option you would go for if you were in our shoes.
Thanks in advance!

(This is a nonviolent text.)
Life! Exclamation point! Today’s speaker is made of clock parts and possesses encyclopedic knowledge about the nature of natural life. Life! Exclamation point! Though biographies in the back of conference programs won’t ever tell the whole story, they tempt us with the true face of authority. Today’s speaker – Life! – is made of clock parts, probably a grandfather clock to begin with, young for its age, but then he started slapping on extra clock parts, moved by an urge he couldn’t explain, until the function of tolling the hour was more of a hobby, a weekend pass-time, compare to what all those precision instruments were up to on a regular basis. As a vision on stage, the speaker’s machinations were there for all to see – the whirring of gears and belts, the clanking of chains. Where his heart chakra was thought to manifest, swung a pendulum.
The nature of natural life is not an easy expertise to build a vocation around – Life! Exclamation point! – but what a sentence to say aloud. At this point in the address, one of the speaker’s mainsprings uncoils where his belly button would normally be. He uses the longer of his hands to poke it back into place without breaking stride, continues: What is a natural life? More to the point, what is a natural lifespan? Who better to know than me! He points to himself when he says this, does a quick spin in place, revealing the dozens of differently styled clock faces that cover the surface of his body, continues: I’m after the author’s natural lifespan, like to pretend I’m playing along, but the whole time, I’m thinking about his natural lifespan. Hmm, hmm, I wonder why? Ha! // The author changes the subject – today’s speaker thinks of something else.
When you discover someone living an unnatural lifespan, you seek to find out why. Not that the reason is the point – not by a longshot – but call me curious. Maybe they tripped at the right moment and tumbled past the grave. Maybe they did a few extra calisthenics before the cock crowed. Or – perish the thought – they succumbed to an unholy pact at a vulnerable moment. I have taken it upon myself to sniff them out – and when he says this, the regulators above his eyes both arch significantly. And what then? We usually have a quiet chat before I recite my speech and complete my visit. It isn’t personal, I begin – time sometimes wells up, spills over its banks, and floods the village. If we could avoid such catastrophe, we should – don’t you agree? The time nature intends, through natural lifespans, would never, let’s be honest, flood a valley.
And what, then, would I do? Proprietary information! hoots today’s speaker from the stage, does another quick spin, stage lights flickering off his crystals, his gleaming metals. About the author’s natural lifespan – oh, you thought I’d forgotten! Were you 18 when you first died? Had it happened before then? Were you but a child under-supervised? Under-supervision-ed, we might say. Remember the day? You rode a toy out into the street, and a car’s front bumper rushed forward to kiss you on the left side of your head, the temple, a stone flung by the age of automobiles. Don’t you remember? Of course you do – the passionate screeching of tires, as those around you stopped and turned to look, surprise gradually replaced by horror at what they knew happened but couldn’t bear to see. You thought you survived – didn’t you? – but thereafter, what appeared on your left temple? A knotted cist so prominent, people stopped you and asked what happened. You saw exactly two physicians over the next 10 years, both telling you not to worry about it, and so you didn’t. You didn’t! When you probed the spot with your fingers, it felt like a rounded room, a shelter built by something trying to survive. As for that 18-year-old involved in that off-road motor vehicle accident – nominee number two, let’s call it – true, you were far more aware of mortality by then, but your own? You climbed aboard a 3-wheeled vehicle that could travel at more than 50mph, completely lacking a seatbelt, headrest, or protective frame – without a helmet, boots, or jacket – and the brakes were less than half there that fateful day, a means of slowing down – a vehicle that would be rendered illegal to operate within a matter of years of the accident . . . the accident . . . remember the accident? August, you were traveling off-road to do farm work, the cornfield you were riding beside with several rows chopped out for silage, and on impulse, you decided to turn into the field to see where it went, then really opened her up because of the green blur of all that corn. Did you secretly expect the drainage ditch? Was this more of a suicide mission? Over the side you went, face first into the opposite bank, and if anyone was wondering – the effect was not of pain but of the lights going out all at once. Imagine the nature of reality that allows for: the inevitability of the crash, followed by all the lights going out – this is really happening – followed by some utterly absent experience, like a film editor cutting in a blankness where reality normally insists scenes of existence should be. The film projectionist would have been instructed to fast-forward through this part of the film, such that no time seems to pass, and the next thing we know, he is trying to push a 3-wheeler out of a drainage ditch. That thing weighing more than he does, and he’s trying to heave it above his head, up and out of the drainage ditch. What had he become? What time-wise tricks were in play? He finally gave up trying to free torment from its channel, staggered through the field toward the truck, face covered in blood, never went to the hospital. When the story is recounted later by his dad, the story became how dad fixed the 3-wheeler by prying the front wheel out of the frame with his truck and a chain. Can you imagine that chain now? They called it a log chain, and the links were cast iron. It was completely covered in rust.
The author knows all this already, receives a spiritual visitation during the writing of the phrase suicide mission, wondering if he’s okay. Yes, he replies, knowing this particular metaphysical weather report has a lot of ground to cover. Today’s guest speaker picks at one of his stems in a distracted way, lets the matter rest, inquires about whether – uh-hum! – he might be permitted to carry on. The author gets up, refills his coffee, returns to one of the picnic tables arrayed in front of the derelict peace church where he lives. He is surrounded by millions of individual affirmations of life, many of which are visibly in bloom or going to seed. A bumble bee flies by. A yellowish bug with zigzags on either side ambles up, its antennae twice as long as its body, tapping at the world in front of it. Among the local insect population, it’s regarded as a savant.
Uh-hum! How many more brushes with death would the author experience before it finally took? There was the time a few years later, same farm but different brother, taking turns firing a handgun at a target. This would be the last time he would fire a gun for any reason, was it not? They climb into the brother’s wedge-shaped sports car, named after the grasping part of a bird of prey, and into fate’s hands did fly. The car was totaled, the two of them, without seatbelts or airbags, unhurt inside the crumpled remnants of the crash, mere inches from winding up once more inside drainage infrastructure, this one built by municipal authority, and therefore of a substance that would have been altogether worse on an unsuspecting traveler headed straight down. Yes, you might have been saved from becoming the remains of the day – but by what?
The child who caused the crash, the one who pulled out in front of that bird of prey, barely old enough to drive, who had two younger passengers inside with him, taking them out for ice cream maybe – that young driver sat nearby while police sorted out the story. He was crying on the side of the road like he would never stop, like he had identified the crash as the latest in a series of personal failings that would stretch into the future of his adulthood like a hot blacktop road and which, at every stop along the way, tragic suffering would be the font of consolation. Was this the way reality was supposed to work? The author recognized the boy as himself at an earlier age, bent down beside him, put a hand on his shoulder, and said, you will be okay. No one was hurt, and the rest can be replaced – your heart is true, and your soul will find its relief.
Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. The late days of spring may be the most forgotten of the year. If we aren’t anticipating summer – it’s still spring? – then we’re longing for those moments when the world was still opening its mouth, and then its eyes, and then its hands. The trees are all open by now, those late-arriving sycamores even filling out their leaves, such that the twigs and branches are all mildly bowed by the extra weight. After spring assumes its labor, the rest of the season finds its dedication, and I imagine the beads of water rising through capillaries beneath the wood – call it a space program – and a sweetness spreads throughout the tubular organisms we call trees. Late spring – sweetness remembered.
Life! Exclamation point! Chronobiology knows nature has much to say about what is cyclical, when, and for how long – much less to say about the natural length of one’s existence. Is death something one develops a knack for? The next notable death in the author’s life occurred a few years later – the death that would make dying into a full-time vocation. And where again do we find the author? Beside a drain. This one introducing the age of indoor plumbing, as the author lay on the floor of a friend’s bathroom, his life flashing before his eyes, as he vomits into a toilet. This time the world does not go dark all at once but feels like fuses blowing out, like a timed demolition, flashing like a string of firecrackers across the structural frame of a building, and a voice not his own telling the author: you’ll be okay, ride it out, remain present, you’ll be okay.
Would he though? For this fourth death, another blank spot appeared, no two – two instances of nothingness, orbiting each other, during which time, during which time, during which time – perhaps language hasn’t the proper security clearance to convey the negotiations that must have taken place to bring about a return to the living. The author remembers his friend opening the bathroom door, before which she would have been knocking and calling his name. When the door struck him in the back, and he came back to life, had he landed in the place where that drain did lead? While his friend cleaned up the bathroom floor with a towel, he sat on a bed with his hands covering his face. The hideousness he’d just passed through was the abbreviated version of what was to come – he knew the drill by now. The knot on his forehead was gone.
Destiny had finally shown him to his home, gave him a tour of the place, before scraping him off the floor, then setting up a series of baffling crises – from autumn 2002 to May 2003 – that would occupy the author’s attention for decades to come. The will toward dying had finally brought the world to life, and the mind of the universe was both ecstatic and enraged about it. Down there, at the bottom of the drain, they were fighting a global war on terror, war on terror, war on terror, and if wars on terror sum up preferred formulations of self-annihilation – symbol of invocation: fighting a reflection – then perhaps the author’s presence was meant to form a mirror-in-mirror infinity from which sustainable futures would emerge. Welcome to Mirror World! Where reflectivity gives us an evolutionary future! Where a universal narrative unfolds!
The author is making me write this, I must confess, but to everyone’s surprise, I am forcing the author to make me! The author is mine! And the author wrote that, too, I must additionally confess, and the two of us go around and around like this – symbol of invocation: two snails having sex in midair. The flatness and hardness we associate with reflectivity is something we will all outgrow eventually, and the hologram of hyper-reality will appear within our being like a flying saucer, and we will all be both abductees and witnesses, shown around the universe in style. Too much to ask? The last such alien contact – the insinuation of verbal and mathematical language into the genome of big-brained primates – gave us the keys to earthly reality. We are now exiting the stone age, evolving the means to make benevolence a fixture of human life.
The author made me write that, too, and even though I am just as surely making him write this, we must admit the mutability within the fabric of reality was not won without a struggle. The author faced death 11 times that year, faced death the next year, and the year after that. Each point along the way wanted to finish what the others couldn’t, and soon death felt like an echo, and in that moment of not really distinguishing the source and the reflection – when they both look somewhat the same – he could tell life and death were likewise difficult to discern. Life! Exclamation point! Are you merely an extension of entropy? A quicker way of dissipating the heat from a rocky-bodied planetoid like the earth? And if you are, then is life really just another form of death? But death! Didn’t you show us the way? Wasn’t dying the source of the cure?
Today’s speaker made me write that, just as I made him think it. And as thoughts passed from gear to gear around his body – as cuckoos sprang forth through tiny doors at various angles – as a series of chimes and tones issued forth from the stage like the ringing of a bell, if the bell could tell time and was tolled by committee – then the river of the natural lifespan, subject of such grand speculation in a previous incarnation, could now take its course. Perhaps indeed valleys would flood, but such is the natural origin of certain fertile fields. Springtime couldn’t agree with me more, its will toward abundance glad to splay its fingers before another epic growing season. As the author considers ways to wind up this report – knowing such lived truth inspires concern – whether death equals life or life equals death, he reasserts a will toward world peace.
Peace.

Link: https://www.velsyst.com/collections/plate-carriers/products/standard-molle-plate-pocket-cummerbund
I was wondering if anyone has one so I don't have to wait 4-6 weeks lol. Size small and ranger green. $60? Lmk your price

tl;dr Some people in the Taco community are awesome.
So this afternoon I'm driving out in the middle of nowhere central NY eastbound on Rte 17 . I've already driven 8 hours and I have another five to go before I get home. I'm hauling around 1000lbs of antique tools with two anvils in the bed and the double cab packed to the roof. My left rear tire explodes at 65mph on a downhill right hand curve and I can barely get it off the road safely. Plus it's raining. So I get out, unpack about 100 handsaws from the back seat, and get the jack kit out.
I've changed tires before, but never on the side of a highway and never on a Tacoma. I'm assembling the tool to drop the spare when a 1st gen Taco pulls up behind me and puts his hazards on. He stays about a hundred yards in back of me and a bit out into the right lane to try to warn the oncoming traffic that there's a breakdown ahead. The kid driving (I say kid but he's probably 20s and I'm 46 so everyone is a kid to me) walks over and offers me some help. He said he was driving the opposite way and saw a Taco pulled over with a flat. He must have gone to the next exit a couple of miles down the road, turned around, and came up behind me. We talk Tacomas for a bit while trucks are flying by a few feet away. We get the tire changed easily in less than 10 minutes. I offered him some money as thanks, but he said no. I made him take it because that's a damn decent thing to do for a total stranger. Plus I had some good luck last week so I decide to pass it on. I can't even remember his name. I just got home safe. The OEM tire is toast with only 6k miles on it- there's a thumb-sized blowout on the sidewall.
Thanks Taco dude.

It was a hot humid summer afternoon. me (mío) and my friend (Jake) were chilling in Jake’s basement playing video games. Currently Jake’s air conditioning unit was broken and my house was boring so we were stuck there. “It’s so damn hot” Jake says. “I know, I wish there was a better way to cool off” i say. “Yo dude? You mind if I take my shirt off?” He says “nah it’s your house you do whatever” I say as he pulls off his shirt. As he pulls off his shirt I can’t help but notice how beautiful his chest and arms look. I feel my dick grow in my shorts as I gaze. I try my best to hide it. “You can take yours off too, bro.” Said Jake. I take off my shirt as well. “Damn bro you got a nice decent bod” Jake jokingly says. “Thanks, you too.” I say as I’m pointing to his abs.
We continue playing the game for a while until Jake says “The stupid fan isn’t enough. Dude do you care if I take my pants off?” “Yeah it’s alright is it ok if I take my pants off too?” I say. “Yeah, you do you, bro” Jake says as he takes off his shorts revealing his loose sweaty boxers. I can’t help but look. I can see his tip poking out from the leg hole of his boxers. I take my shorts off revealing my sweaty boxer-briefs with my clearly noticeable bulge. “Woah nice bulge there, mío” Jake says. My face flushed red of embarrassment as I cover it up with my hands. “It’s alright dude. We’re both guys.” Jake says. “That is true” I say.
We continue playing until it got late. I asked Jake if I could spend the night due to me living a few minutes away and neither or us wanted to walk alone in the dark. “Hey Jake Is it ok if I take a shower?” I say “yeah of course, mío. I’ll make your bed” Jake says. I walk to the bathroom and get undressed and turn on the shower. Normally on hot days I’d take a cold shower but today I took a warm shower. After a few minutes in the shower I hear the door open “yo mío? Can I join you?” I hear Jake say. “Uh sure” I say. With Jake being a straight male for the years I’ve known him, this is fairly odd behaviour. Jake soon gets in and I hand him some soap. “Yo mío you wanna compare sizes?” He says. “Jake this you’re acting very strange, what’s up” I say “I’ll tell you once we get out, mío” “ok”. We both get out of the shower dry off and sit on his bed still naked. “Mío ever since we were younger I’ve always had my eyes on you.” “But Jake I thought you were straight?” “No, mío I’m gay, hella gay” he reaches for my shoulder. “Mío you are beautiful”. I’m in a shock. I don’t know what to do. “Jake I-“ “shh, mío.” Jake puts a finger over my lips. And tells me to sit back. He goes over to his dresser and grabs me a pair of his boxers, workout shorts and a tank. “You can wear these to sleep” Jake says. I put them on slowly. Jake goes to turn off the lights and goes into his bed still naked.
It’s an hour later and it’s pitch dark everywhere and I can’t stop thinking about what he said.
On the left side of the room near Jake’s bed I hear some motion. Then I hear him getting up. A few seconds later I feel pressure on the bed and It’s Jake. He’s currently on top of me. “Jake what are you doing?” Jake lays down beside me and gets under the covers. He’s still wearing nothing and I can feel his cock press against my leg. Over the years I did know if I was gay or bi or whatever the hell anything is. But now I know. I’m a fucking homo. I lay on my side and put my hand on Jake’s chest. I move it all around until I get to his cock. I start touching it. He knows what to do and moves his hands down my pants and goes to my dick. We both sit up and I take off my clothes. He starts jerking me off then I push him backwards and stand on all fours over him. I didn’t know what I was doing. I wanted to fuck him but I didn’t know how. I sat up and pushed him up and started to jerk both of our cocks. “You want me to fuck you?” I say in a sexy way. “Yes please” Jake says like a slut. I hop off of the bed to grab some lube and a condom from his bedside table i slide the condom on and I take the lube and put it on my finger to apply to Jake’s asshole. He moans in pleasure as I slide my finger in. The room is already getting hot and steamy from the heat from our bodies and the warm summer night. “Are you ready?” I ask “hell yes, mío” Jake says. I slowly stick my cock in Jake’s ass. I feel him shiver from the input and pleasure. I start going in and out, in and out. He starts moaning from the pleasure as do I. Jake is very tight and he feels good around my cock. It’s a lot for me and him. I start to thrust faster one two, one two. I think In my mind. I put my face close to his and I started making out with him while I was thrusting my cock in and out. “Mío! I’m getting close!” Jake says “so am I” I say. “Let’s cum” he says. We keep fucking until we reached the point of no return. I cum in his ass and he cums on his chest. “AUUGHH” I moan. “That was the most pleasureful experience I’ve felt” I tell him he agrees. We clean up and take another shower together. Then we went back to the bed to cuddle and then sleep.

Part 1 - https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/11ovngn/i_play_a_game_they_call_sleep_points_every_night/
Previous Part - https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/13deva8/i_play_a_game_they_call_sleep_points_every_night/
When I got home from school, even though I knew the clock wasn’t literally going to try to eat me alive like it always seemed to want to on weeknights, I still watched it intensely, dreading every minute that passed. Even though this had all been what I was hoping for over the course of the last week and a half, going through with everything I would need to do to meet up with Anastasia at her house in the middle of the night still seemed way scarier than just dealing with the clock’s nightly threats against my life which, by that point, had become something of a routine for me.
At 11:00 PM, my parents looked like they had gone to sleep. I would wait another hour as Anastasia had advised. I would leave at midnight. And that wouldn’t be a problem since it was a Friday night, and my clock wasn’t going through its usual changes. By that time, the clock hadn’t started glowing or even turning the slightest shade of red.
When midnight did come, the clock was still in the same state as it was at 11. My parents were still asleep. They hadn’t even gotten up for a bathroom break. I turned on the kitchen lights, hoping it wouldn’t wake my parents up. It didn’t. I went to the kitchen table to take the keys to my father's truck. They weren’t there. I had no idea where else to look for them.
I tried looking all around the kitchen and living room. I checked mom and dad's bathroom. Nothing. I didn’t know how I would make my way to Anastasia’s house now. I could just picture her, spending all night at her back door, waiting for me to show up, without me ever coming. Maybe I'd find the keys tomorrow. But that seemed like a fat chance since dad wasn't gonna be driving anywhere tomorrow.
I wouldn't have him to find them for me. It looked like I’d have to wait a whole nother week on any answers now.
I had recently invested in a new watch. I had some allowance money left over from when I was a kid. My school has a little gift shop with small things like school-themed wristwatches, so after my last class of the day, I stopped by and picked up a College High watch so I could check the time without needing to look at the clock in my room or at my phone. I'm bringing this up because at around this point I was watching with increasing anxiety as time was passing by. According to the watch, the time now was 12:30 and I still didn’t have any access to my father’s car.
I was already feeling hopeless enough, just thanks to that fact, but then I remembered that I still didn’t even know how to get to Anastasia’s house.
Since I still didn’t know where the keys were and it didn’t look like I’d find them any time soon, I figured I’d take a break from looking, and go on my phone to look up her address on google maps. I knew I shouldn’t have been using my phone since it was apparently super important not to let it die. I figured it must've been one of those rules like keeping my head under the blanket when the monster showed up, along with the rest of my body. But I would only need my phone for a few minutes. Just enough time to look at google maps and sketch out a rough map of the route from my house to Anastasia’s.
The first thing I noticed when I typed in her address was that, thankfully, her house wasn’t too horrendously far away from mine. It would just be a 4-mile drive. So hopefully this meant that, if push did come to shove, I could still just walk there if I had too. I’d probably be late, but that would be better than not showing up at all. So, I at least had that as a back-up plan if nothing else. But it would still be risky. It would take a lot of time to walk there, and then to walk back. Maybe mom and dad would be up after all was said and done. Maybe they’d hear me coming back inside the house, regardless of how I made it to Anastasia’s. Maybe I’d wake up Anastasia’s parents too.
Since I only had an hour and thirty-five minutes left, I had no time to worry all that much about any of this though. I had to get to work, jotting down the path to Anastasia’s house. I would turn left out of my driveway, stay on that road for about a mile and a half, then turn right and stay on that road for another half-mile, then turn left for another mile, and then left again for a final fourth mile.
Another thing I noticed was that Anastasia lived out in the middle of absolute nowhere. I thought I did too, but Anastasia’s house was on a whole nother level of out there.
Fortunately, that meant I’d be driving pretty much exclusively on backroads, so it would literally be impossible to take a wrong turn after I made my first turn out of the driveway and the next right turn after that after about a mile and a half. It also meant that I would be pretty much guaranteed not to run into any other drivers, especially at that time of night. But I guess her remote address explained why she didn’t have the internet connection she would need to do a video call.
Since it was a quarter to 1 by that point, after I found out how to drive to her house, I put on all the layers I could find, took the flashlight that my mom had given me for the walk I had went on during the week prior, and started trying to walk over there, without my parents’ car, despite her recommendations. Even though it was four miles by car, I wouldn't have to worry about staying on the road if I just walked there. If I walked in a straight line, I could get there in just over 2 and half miles or so. I had decided to leave, not out of the front door, but out of the door in the hallway that led to the garage. That door made less noise than the front door.
Unfortunately, I started to get the sense that I hadn’t thought this plan through when I realized I would still have to open the garage door in order to make my way into the outside world. Which, yeah, made considerably more noise than the front door. But then I realized it didn’t matter, since I was gonna have to open the garage door anyway if I wanted to get the car out of the garage and onto the road. So, I had still made the right decision. Except no I hadn’t, because I had just remembered that I still didn’t have the car keys, and so I was supposed to be ditching the whole car idea anyway and had just randomly forgotten about all of that.
I know that all probably sounded pretty messy and wasn't very easy to follow, but maybe someone else reading with ADHD can relate. But anyway, confusing thought processes aside, I walked out the front door and started making my way to Anastasia’s on foot. It really was freezing though. I really did wonder if I could actually make it all the way to her house.
Before I even made it to the end of the driveway, I began to change my mind and decided driving really would be a more reasonable alternative. Obviously, the backroads wouldn’t even be close to snow plowed. But the snow only looked to be about maybe 6 or 7 inches deep, which was still driveable enough with the snow-proof tires that my dad had on his truck. This level of snow isn't all that uncommon around here, so those tires are pretty much a must-have for anybody living in deathly cold climates like us.
So, I could still drive despite the snow, albeit only very slowly what with how much the snow would slow me down. But I was supposed to be driving slowly anyway because I was only 14 and didn’t have a license. But I still couldn’t drive without those keys. Then I remembered I still had my bike in the garage. It was supposedly “all terrain”, so hopefully that meant it could handle the snow. I went into the garage, got my bike out, and tried riding it. Unfortunately, the tires on that bike weren’t even close to capable of handling the snow. I tried pedaling as hard as I could but hardly got anywhere before falling over. I had a feeling this would probably happen. It seemed like a dumb idea but, since I didn’t want to steal my dad’s truck and I couldn’t even seem to find his keys anyway, I figured it was at least worth a shot.
I was just about to say “fuck it” and try meeting Anastasia again on some other night when, just as I had put my bike down in the garage, I had seen that my dad had left behind his keys in the key slot of his car door. Apparently, the reason that they weren’t where they usually were was because my father had locked the truck and just forgot to take his keys with him. I turned the key sticking out of the driver’s side door and it opened. So I really could get inside of his truck after all.
I put the key into the ignition and then put it in reverse. The truck made quite a bit of noise when its ignition started, so I had just hoped that I hadn’t woken up my parents with that. Luckily, my garage is on the other side of the house from where my parents sleep, so the sound did at least have a long way to travel. Once I started backing the truck out of the garage and into the driveway, I ran into another problem. Since the roads weren’t plowed, they were just as snowy as anywhere else. So even with the rearview mirror, I had no idea where my driveway stopped and the road started. I figured I would just keep backing up until I felt like I’d gone far enough.
Far enough came sooner than expected though. Eventually, the car had very clearly backed into the grass, meaning I had backed up too far. Fortunately, I saw that I hadn’t veered too much out of the straight line I was trying to go in, because driving in reverse meant I could see the truck’s tracks right in front of me with the help of the headlights. The car fell onto the grass from back to front. So that meant that the road was now directly in front of me. Since I needed to take a left from my house if I was facing away from it, and I was now facing the opposite direction given that I was looking right at it, that meant that I now had to make a right turn in order to still be going in the right direction.
I took a moment to make sure my logic was right and, once I felt confident, I turned the truck right and then tried to feel for where the road was based on how well the truck was able to move. Eventually I was able to drive relatively smoothly, so I took that to mean that I was back on the road. I tried to angle myself properly so that I wouldn’t wind up veering off the road again. Now and then I would wind up driving myself off the road. But since I was only going like 5 miles an hour, I was able to catch myself before the car wound up falling into any ditches or something.
Since the road was entirely empty, I eventually made the decision to just drive in the middle of the road. Or at least, wherever I thought the middle of the road was. That way, I’d limit the likelihood of driving myself off the right edge.
After about 20 or 30 minutes of driving painfully slowly, I finally saw the sign for my first turn. Since all the turns I was making were fairly sharp ones, they were basically all 90 degrees, there were road signs that I could use to gauge when I should turn without needing to see the road itself. So I still knew when to do it, even though I couldn’t see the road under all the snow and I couldn't use GPS since my phone had to stay on the charger at all costs.
But the snow still made those sharp turns very difficult to make. So I had to start all my turns pretty far ahead of where they actually would’ve been in the road. Naturally, I wound up driving off the road when making literally all of them. But I was always able to work out where the road was supposed to be soon enough. I guess since people are more likely to veer off the road when making turns as opposed to when they’re driving straight, there didn’t seem to be any ditches around all those sharp turns, thankfully enough.
After I made that first turn, I checked my watch. It was now a quarter after 1. I still had 50 minutes to go. I wasn’t making great time, but I had still made it about a third of the way in only about 25 minutes. If I kept up the pace, I’d be there after just under an hour of driving. Which would put me there a little bit after 2 AM. So, pretty much exactly at 2:05, the time we agreed on.
I kept on driving incredibly slowly for what felt like forever. Finally I had made my last turn, and after a bit, I could see lights from the houses off the side of the road in the distance. I figured that this must be the neighborhood Anastasia lived in. If you could even call it a neighborhood. The houses were so hugely spaced out that it hardly even made sense to say you had neighbors. But then, she really did live out in the middle of nowhere.
Every time I passed by a house, I got out of the car and looked for an address with my flashlight. This slowed me down, but it still ensured that I would be headed for the right house. I kept the slip of paper with her address on it since I knew that, without that sheet, I’d absolutely forget which address was hers. I was actually pretty pleased with myself for having thought ahead like that. I usually didn’t. I guess I still usually don’t, if I’m being honest.
I was worried that this whole procedure of getting out of the car to scope out for an address every time I passed a new house would make me late. But fortunately, Anastasia’s house was the third house I came across on that street. So thankfully, I didn’t wind up having to check that many houses and it only cost me maybe another 5 minutes. When I checked my watch, I found I had actually arrived sooner than I had thought. Even with checking every house I had come across up to that point for the address, it was only 1:50.
I had made it with 15 minutes to spare. That meant I had made that last two thirds of my trip in about the same amount of time that I had spent on my first, meaning I had wound up going twice as fast. I suppose as I had gotten comfortable with driving, I sped up the car a little without even realizing it. Doubling your speed sounds like it should be a huge difference, but when you’re only going from 5 miles per hour to 10, I guess it must be pretty hard to notice.
Since I had so much time left and the weather outside was still hellishly cold, I stayed in the truck with the heater blaring. After a couple of minutes, I noticed an ominous red light glowing out of the side of the house. That seemed off to me since surely that couldn’t have anything to do with Anastasia’s clock. It wasn’t a weeknight and even if it was, it was still well past midnight. I remembered what she had told me about how I was still on Stage One. Maybe the fact that she was on a much later stage had something to do with what I was seeing. The fact that I was still on Stage One did, after all, seem like it had something to do with the fact that I was only threatened by the clock on weeknights.
My curiosity had gotten the better of me, and so I braved the cold and snow to go check out what was happening. There was a window on the side of the house. The curtains were left open so with the red light blaring from it, I could see inside fairly easily. Especially since the house was only one story, so it wasn’t like the window was too high up off the ground for me to see through, either.
My fears had been confirmed. Upon looking into the room, I could see exactly where the red light was emanating from: the clock on the nightstand. The face inside was as clear as ever. Every feature slowly growing, approaching the glass in front of the clock’s face. But it wasn’t looking at me. It was very clearly directing its vile and hateful gaze at the person under the covers.
The person had her head covered underneath the blanket, so I couldn’t directly tell who it was. But I figured it had to be Anastasia. For one, there was no way in hell anybody else in her family was playing Sleep Points too. I mean, what are the odds of that? And for another, the room pretty clearly looked like it belonged to a teenage girl about Anastasia’s age. Everything looked like it was pink and had all kinds of frills to it. I even noticed some boyband poster on the other end of the room. If this wasn’t the most stereotypical teenage girl’s room, I had no fucking clue what was.
Finally, 2 o’clock had come. I could see why she had told me 2:05. I had never seen the monster from the clock break out. I had always had my head under the covers whenever it happened. But since this was Anastasia’s clock and not mine and since the face in the clock was staring her down and not me, and since I had an entire wall separating me from the thing, I guess I somehow managed to muster up the courage to watch the monster in action.
Suddenly, the hands and numbers of the clock’s face began to almost melt into the monster’s face. It had broken out of the sheet of glass holding it back. But that seemed to be the only thing that was broken. The rest of the actual clock remained pretty intact as the unspeakable thing from within started to slither out of the clock and onto the floor. Since the hands and numbers were still on its face, it kinda looked like they had been imprinted on it like some kind of tattoo artwork. It very quickly expanded in size and let out this unholy screech that I could hear very loudly even from behind the window. But Anastasia was still sleeping very peacefully. Totally motionless like nothing at all was going on.
It prowled around her bed, looking for the slightest sign of motion. It looked almost skeptically at her. As if it could tell whether she was really sleeping or not. And God only knows what would’ve happened to her if she wasn’t. Eventually, the monster seemed satisfied with what he saw and shrunk himself down to his original size. He slid back into the clock, and as he did so, there was one last glow of red light. The glass had been restored. It was now 2:01.