Fiction

The Pain Olympics

Ever since I can remember I loved inflicting pain on myself. I’m not talking about cutting your wrists type pain. I mean extreme pain. The kind of pain that makes people cringe. The kind where they turn their head away in disgust. The kind that makes their stomach turn inside out releasing their dinner.

It all started when I was a kid. I can’t remember a specific instance where I said, “hey that knife in my foot feels pretty fuckin’ good.” I’ve always just had a deep pleasure to experience high levels of pain. I was built for it. My brain was wired for it.

My father died at a young age and my mother disowned me. She say’s I’m a danger to myself and society. She is completely disgusted at me. I haven’t seen her since I was nineteen.

I do remember her telling me that I would always get myself hurt as a toddler. I was walking at a young age. Fell on my head more than once. That probably explains the psychological differences in my brain vs. the average person in society. She said I rarely cried. I would just get back up and go back at it.

My parents had a small garden with an electrical fence around it, so animals wouldn’t get in there. I can remember holding the fence with both hands for pleasure. When that became boring I would piss on it.

One time I got suspended in elementary school due to my show-in-tell. One of my friends at the time had a cop for a dad. I stole his taser and took it to school. For show-in-tell, I tazed myself in front of the class. I realized that day I loved inflicting pain on myself in front of a crowd.

On the playground kids would pay to punch me. I charged ten bucks for a shot in the face.
Fifteen bucks for a kick in the groin. Five bucks for anywhere else. I made decent money before the school shut that little enterprise of mine down.

In high school I took up cutting. I had thousands of cuts on my thighs and torso. Back then I had to hide my guilty pleasure from administrations and parents.

I’d often pick fights with the biggest kids in school. Little did they know, but while they were bashing my face in the ground I was getting off.

After high school I was a full-blown masochist. I started mutilating my entire body. I made videos of myself mutilation and put them up on a homemade website I built. This was in the 90’s. Before Google was around. My website got millions of views. I was a well-known celebrity amongst certain sub-cultures of the internet.

My mother disowned me when she walked in on me chiseling the toes off my feet.  That video garnered ten million views worldwide. Titled, “Shocked mom walks in on her son cutting his toes off”. That video changed my life.

After going viral, a man I shall not name, reached out to me. He told me operated an underground competition called the Pain Olympics. He told me that I should meet him for coffee in the city and discuss the opportunity.

Over coffee he told me the details of the Pain Olympics. It was a contest, of about ten other people, to see who could inflict the greatest amount of pain on themselves without dying. The winner of the contest would get one million dollars. The contest would be held in his mansion in a country with lax laws, that I shall not divulge.

Before I knew it, I was flying first class on an international flight.

When I landed the founder of the Pain Olympics picked me up in a limo. We drove down countless backroads of a gorgeous countryside before we arrived at his mansion. The mansion was in the middle of a rural county, surrounded by a big lake, atop of a hill.

I was the last one to arrive, greeted by ten other individuals who were planning to participate. Eight of the ten were men. The other two were women.

The week at the mansion was a big social gathering where we all got to know each other. Butlers and maids walked around with hors d’oeuvres and drinks. There were all types of food from many different nationalities. We all had our own private quarters where we could go off and have alone time.

I met some great people there. They were all like me. Most of them have been disowned by their families. They all had visual damages to their physical body that was noticeable. Many were missing fingers. One lady cut off her ear and ate it when she was fifteen. Another guy was in a wheel chair from jumping out in front of moving cars for fun.

The last night there was a big toast and speech from the man who invited us.

After the speech the butlers brought out two dozen prostitutes and a plate full of drugs. The next day was the contest. It would run ten days.

At the end of the last night we all had to draw our numbers.  If you drew number one you were the one to start the contest. Number ten would be last to go. The contest would run ten days.

No one wanted to be number one and everyone wanted to be the last to go. The first person to go would not have any idea what everyone else would do. They would have to step their game up. Make sure that no one else could top them. But that was unlikely. This contest was full of sickos like me. We all get off to stuff like this.

I drew number ten, luckily. I was to be the last to go.

The first guy started the day off by cutting his left fingertips off with a butcher’s knife. You could hear the bones snap under the pressure of the sharp knife. He tapped out after that.

For the second day a woman went. She had at least ring piercings that circled the labia of her vagina. She laid down on ground with rope tied to the rings and had her self-hoisted up. It looks painful to a bystander, but that kind of pain is very manageable. I was unimpressed.

Other guys resorted in genital mutilation. One guy slit a knife down his testicles and popped one of them out. Another guy cut his penis off completely. Finally, one stuck an M-80 down his piss hole.

The contest was getting boring to me by the end. Everyone who went in the later days didn’t have any original ideas. There wasn’t anything to make me truly gasp. Sticking thousands of needles in your body just doesn’t do it to me. I was doing that kind of shit in elementary school. I was ready to give these people a show. Show them what a true masochist looked like.

I started off soft. I took a plier-like instrument called extraction forceps and started removing my own teeth. I could feel the roots of my front teeth hold on for dear life as I pulled. The sound of your teeth being pulled out is a sound I will never forget.

I then took a small silver spoon and stuck it behind the socket of my left eye. It slipped in there like butter. Applying a little pressure, I popped my eye out of its socket and smashed it while it was hanging with a hammer.

A warm tingling feeling rushed through my body. This is what I live for I thought.

To finish the contest and get the release I was looking for I pulled a handgun out of my pocket and pressed it to the side of my jaw. With the cold barrel of the gun pressed firmly to my jaw, I slowly pulled the trigger.

BANG!

I felt warm blood pour down my chest. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears. Pieces of my jaw were shot across the room laying in a stream of blood. My tongue hung out of my mouth where my jaw was supposed to be. The room started to go black. I passed out.

I woke with a couple of doctors by me and the man who invited me to his mansion. The doctors told me I was at the mansion still and would need to stay in bed for a few days. I was wrapped up in white bandages and unable to talk.

The man who invited me to his mansion kneeled next to me saying, “congratulations son, you are the winner of our first annual Pain Olympics.”

My life was changed that day. I received one million, cash, exempt from taxes. I had enough money to never work again. I could focus on my true art, self-mutilation. But more importantly, I was an underground celebrity. I had a type of “cult” following that follows me to this day.

The Pain Olympics changed my life. If you do enough digging in the dark places of the internet where many do not tread, you may find the first annual Pain Olympics, in the mansion where it all started. I caution you though, tread lightly. There is no going back.

4 replies »

    • The story is loosely based off true events. If you have the stomach to gut through it, look up BME Pain Olympics. My buddies and me found the original videos when we were teenagers. Use to make people watch them to see their reaction. I’m sure they are still out there floating around somewhere. Most of the mutilation stories I have written about in this story are based on true videos I saw via BME Pain Olympics.

      Liked by 1 person

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