Throwaway because this is horrifying. This happened almost 15 years ago and it haunts me to this day.
I was attending a university in the upper midwest and probably seemed like a pretty normal dude to most people. However, I had a pretty… odd secret. I considered myself a practitioner of magick.
This kind of magick is obviously spelled with a ‘k,’ to distinguish it from stage magic where you know it’s a trick. In short, people who practice magick believe that it’s real, and will engage in activities such as rituals, spells, special prayers, and things of that nature. There are a lot of wildly differing schools of thought on the subject, but that’s the gist of it.
Now, this may come across as complex or obtuse, but it helps to understand the turn of events. One thing that is important in a lot of schools of magick is the use of sigils. A sigil is basically a special object, word, phrase, etc, that symbolizes your wish. It’s like a way of encoding or condensing a spell. So, if I want to cast a spell to get 100 dollars, but I don’t want to stop and think about how I want to get 100 dollars every time I cast the spell, I could just select a personal, nonsensical word like “blarg” to represent my wish. So instead of going through the motions of a ritual or whatever to express my wish, I could just think “blarg.”
The best times to think of your sigil were in moments of great intensity or emotion. Such as, for example, sexual orgasm.
Another practice to really help a spell work was to “sacrifice” to some kind of spirit or deity, which often would be represented by an image or statue. The “sacrifice” was usually in the form of bodily fluids such as blood or bam-bam juice. I picked the Virgin Mary because she felt familiar, and I purchased a little statue of her from a Christian bookstore.
So, now that all that’s out of the way, on to the disaster. I had a spell I wanted to cast, I’m not even sure what it was anymore, and I developed a ritual of, ehm, whacking my mole and thinking about my sigil during climax. I took this opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and offered my “discharge” to the Virgin Mary.
It sounds absurd looking back on it now, but when I browse occult message boards or blogs, I am reminded that many people are doing similar things today.
The moment of destiny came (har har) one fateful day when I thought I would be left alone in my dorm for a few hours. My SO had some evening classes and most of my friends and gone off to investigate rumors of an open keg party at one of the frat houses. So I got my statue out to begin my little mystical rub-a-dub as I had done many times past.
So I slap my salami for a few minutes, and hold my dinglebobber over the blessed Mary’s head at the moment of truth. My sausage shoots as per usual, I think about my sigil, and I breathe a little sigh of release. And at that very moment, the door to my closet-sized dorm swings open. One of my SO’s evening classes had been cancelled.
Take a moment to ask yourself these questions. Have you ever been caught masturbating? Then you know how humiliating it is. Have you ever been caught masturbating by your SO? Even worse. Have you ever been discovered at the moment of release, giving you no opportunity to even try to hide your festivities? Probably one of the most helpless and shameful mix of emotions in the world. Now, ask yourself– have you ever experienced all three of these at the same time, while cumming on the blessed Virgin Mary?
It was the deepest horror of my life. I could only turn my head helplessly as driblets of splooge slid down the Virgin’s serene face. My body, my soul, just seemed to freeze in the shock of the moment.
My gf froze too. She stared at me like I was some kind of alien spider that was eating her dog. I can still hear her words in my dreams. “What the fuck?!” A pause. “What the fucking fuck?!” Another pause. This one seemed to last about an hour, but in reality was probably only about five seconds. My body managed to croak a response while my petrified spirit watched from about three feet away– “You wouldn’t understand.”
She turned and slammed the door behind her. The door to the main entrance slammed as well after a few moments of receding footsteps. I sheepishly scuttled to the other side of my room and looked out the window to see her car peeling out of the parking lot. I think my dick was still in my hand.
I cleaned up my little mess, threw the blessed Virgin into the trash, and spent the next few hours laying in bed, thoughts racing. What would my friends think? My family? How can I even begin to explain what I was doing? Fortunately, my SO never spoke about what she saw. My last contact with her was a message on my answering machine the next day, wherein she stated that she didn’t want to talk about what happened and didn’t want to see me again.
I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder two months later and placed on a mood stabilizer. Apparently alternating between devout Catholicism and occult Magick isn’t quite normal.
The moment that she walked in and saw me jizzing on a statue of Mary will forever be seared into my brain. It is as though a small portion of the space-time continuum simply stopped, and remains suspended in the ether of consciousness, as clear now as it was when it happened.
I will never forget.
TL;DR My girlfriend caught me jizzing on a statue of the Blessed Virgin because I believed in magick.