It is my ultimate fantasy to be gagged, tied up, and brutally ass fucked my Kevin The Minion. I have accrued tens of thousands in debt attempting to fill this void with sexual “toys”, including several custom dildos and a modified Kevin-shaped plush doll with a twelve-inch yellow strap on. The wife and I are separated, and I have accepted that I will never see my kids again. The only thing keeping her from divorcing me is the fear that she might be the final push into a deep, inescapable abyss, at the bottom of which lies me, sometimes weeping, sometimes shoving my flacid cock into the shower drain in frustration. It has been nine years now since that night. I have nothing now, and I have accepted that. My apartment is a squalid den of inescapable despair, filled with jizz-stained Kevin The Minion dolls and tormented notes etched onto lewd posters of Kevin The Minion. My only fiends are the roaches. I am going to die here.