Ten years later, Bed ridden with nothing but depression at my side. It has been ten years since I last saw mike. Ten years since my last moment of pure happiness. My anus has shrunk back into normal size, my cock hasn’t felt the bliss of an orgasm for so long. I do not wack it no, I don’t masturbate for the sole reason of hoping for Mike Wazowski to return, to fill me with his hot cum and make me feel so close to heaven as he did before. I contemplated buying a fleshlight. printing out a picture of Mike and taping it to the flesh light. The only reason why I did not follow through however is simple; it would not feel the same. The feeling of a fake fleshy rubber is nothing compared to Mike’s luscious green asshole, it’s softer than any pillow yet rougher than sandpaper. To some that’s torture. To *me* thats *perfect*



Everyday I cry, everyday I long for the feeling of his sweet tight butt. What have I done to deserve this isolation? Mike, wherever you are I want you here, in my ass. It’s gotten bad, so bad that I had to restrain myself from ass fucking that *child* in a Mike Wazowski costume. I ain’t a pedophile, I am just going crazy from my lack of Wazowski sex. The moment I caught myself nearly pommeling an innocent child I realized what has come to me. I stood on my porch, nine PM with nothing but my boxers on. My eyes probably looked unnaturally bloodshot and I can guarantee you that they must have looked as if they were bulging out of my sockets. I looked to be on meth, the fact I was eyeing down what looked to be a three year old was not helping. The parents looked mortified, the dad called me a “fucking weird” and a “maniacal pedophile”. I just cried, all I wish for is that sweet Wazowski **sSEX**