Well, suddenly there was another pang of pain, as if to tell him that yes you can.
His left hand jerks off the mouse, as he couldn’t help grabbing his chest due to sheer intensity of pain.
"No, no, no... not now," he wheezes. "At least let me cum, I had been waiting for this fucking moment for past 20 hours!! fuck you author for dragging this so long and fuck you god for choosing this time..."
As if angered by his cursing, the pain further intensified and his breath shortened. His monitor blurred into dreamy soft lines.
He tried to stand to somehow ease the pain, at least temporarily. But of course, fails miserably and stumbles over, knocking over an artistic array of empty cans, and finally collapses back into his chair.
With twitching fingers, he tried to focus hard and barely stared at the screen... at the open tabs, the questionable filenames, the accumulation of absolute darkness of humanity. Finally accepting his impending demise, he slumped and seeing the open tabs, a sudden thought stuck to him.
"Hard drive... at least, gotta clear the drive..."
It’s not guilt or anything... It’s instinct. He had lived online too long to die with his search history and files intact.
So, forget the last words of wisdom, forget redemption arcs. The only thing that truly matters in this moment... is data management, or more specifically data deletion.
With this thought, he moved all his strength from the dick to his hand, and somehow got enough strength to drag the mouse with a trembling hand, and clicked one last shortcut.
Opening his proudest creation... his magnum opus of paranoia —
’Gooner Cleanup Shortcut.’
’Cleanup.exe.’
A single command to delete everything, incriminating in one go.
He barely moves his finger.
Click.
And...
... DONE!
Clean slate.
Digital baptism complete.
One final act of dignity.
And then... everything faded away.
The screen flickers once, twice, and ultimately dies as the cpu overloads due to the command and literally burns to erase any hope of data recovery forever.
Finally, his body slumps.
The chair creaks eerily.
And the last thought that crosses his brain before shutting down completely?
"Thank God I made that shortcut..."
And then...
Finally Silence.
Complete silence.
...
No harps, No angels. No reapers. Not even a tunnel of light waiting to escort him to the afterlife.
Only darkness...heavy, endless, velvety darkness. And what follows is absolute: a void untouched, where no light dares to enter, and no hope can ever break through.
Yet, deep within this void, a spark of life still flickers. A soul floats aimlessly through the void, detached from flesh, time, regret and more importantly lust.
Tiny, stubborn, refusing to die like the last ember of a cigarette crushed under a shoe, no matter how hard you stomp, it still definitely flickers.
It wanders between universes like a broken Wi-Fi signal, searching for meaning where none exists (or maybe just cum).
He drifts. And drifts.
There was no up, or down or any direction, just eternal void.
It could’ve been seconds, decades or centuries. Who knows? Time’s got no meaning here. Just like when we are on a quest to find gooning materials.
Then... suddenly... something tears through the void.
A soundless explosion of light.
A streak.
White-hot, (not that white hot) divine, blinding... like the universe itself just said, "Yeah, we’re not done with this gooning legend yet."
It cuts through the endless dark and accidentally slams straight into that lonely, drifting speck that used to be a man.
For a moment, even the void shudders, the soul spasm and the darkness screams without sound.
And just like that—
Begins the legend of a man who died mid-goon...
...
...
"Aghh—! My head... hurts..."
Suddenly a 17 or 18 year old young man opened his eyes, he blinked slowly, trying to figure out what the heck was going on, and the first thing he noticed beside tearing headache? Massive boobas, like really massive, the biggest he had seen in his whole life, straining against the barely covering animal hide of her loincloth, threatening to spill forth at any given moment.
Okay, he thought weakly. I’m alive. I think. Maybe. Either that, or hell’s gone rustic. Because there’s no way these massive boobas can exist in reality.
And just as he was entranced, staring at the boobas, a pleasant musky scent assaulted his nose mixture of some unknown flowers and body odors which instead of being unpleasant was very pleasant and strangely arousing.
He tried to move, but alas! he was too weak to even move around and could only move his eyes around. He looked down and found himself almost naked except for a tanned animal hide loincloth covering his groin area.
Looking at this tanned fit and athletic body , he suddenly felt something wrong, like something was definitely not right, as his body was definitely not this fit.
As a senior cultured man, an almost absurd thought suddenly struck his mind, that this was definitely not his original body.
But before he could think anything further, suddenly a cracking voice entered his ears, "ahh, Sol...y-you.... finally woke up, I-i..i had already told you, you are still too young to go hunting, b-but you still didn’t listen."
*sob, sob*
He was dumb struck and didn’t know what to say, so he just stared helplessly, trying to figure out what was going on.
The busty woman continued, "Y-you...you don’t know how worried I was," saying that she started sobbing even harder. *sob, sob*
"Seeing you unconscious at that time.... I-i really thought that I lost you.."*sob* Seeing her cry like this, he couldn’t help feeling a sense of pity, but the main fucking problem was he didn’t know who the heck she was or why she was calling him Sol.
It was definitely not his name, even though he thought like that, back in the depth of his mind, there seemed to be a faint inkling and combined with this weirdly athletic body and primitive surroundings, that faint feeling grew even further.
But he didn’t had time to think further, as the woman wiped her tears and leaned forward, so much that it really felt that those massive mounds would break free any moment and assault him, not that he minded.
Unknowing of his degenerate thoughts, the woman looked at him concerningly "Are you alright Sol? Why aren’t you speaking?"
Reluctantly lifting his eyes from those boobas, he finally had a better look at this smoking hot woman, or more accurately a MILF.
The sultry woman before him was the very vision of primal sensuality.
Her long, dark hair stumbled down her back in enticing waves, providing a tantalizing frame for a face that seemed both soft and strong at once, and seemed to be chiseled from the primal earth itself, a testament to her unbridled vitality and fierce spirit.
Her piercing, emerald eyes, alight with a gentle warmth, met the young man’s dazed gaze as she leaned in. Her full, juicy lips, that seemed stained with the juice of a ripe berry, curved into a tender expression of concern as she reached out to caress his sweat-dampened face.