1: Cold Open
A/N: this story contains body dysmorphia, substance misuse, incel ideology and language, sexual content, and medical crisis. It's a book about a harmful worldview, not an endorsement of one.
If you're struggling, please reach out. No one is alone in this.
The BLACKPILL
Nine.
It’s a nine.
The person in the mirror.
I would know. I made him.
Glass skin. Positive canthal tilt. NW0 hairline. Sharp cheekbones. Clavicle width that would get its own thread. Waist like a wasp.
I Muscle that photographs, lean and shredded. No facial hair. No body hair. Abs you can play chess on.
Just a year ago, I was an incel, trying to ascend out of the greyzone. I posted a selfie at 3 a.m and asked for the honest truth.
2/10. Prey eyes, recessed jaw. framecel shoulders too.
2 is generous brother. ricecel + manlet + fatcel. LDAR or gymmaxx 5 years and pray
It’s over brah.
They would call me a seven now. Six at worst. Prettyboy. Flowerboy. Feminine halo. Get some weight. Do you even lift? By twenty-five you’ll have expired.
Let them hate.
That’s the doctrine.
I mog 99 percent of them anyway, in every context that matters. Even at 5′8".
Which doesn’t even show in a wheelchair.
That’s the bright side.
The industry says I’m a ten. If I sell for a ten it means I must be one. Or, at least, I was.
Let them pay.
We broke the record once. We’ll do it again. When I get better. When Adam decides it’s time.
He thinks I’m a ten too. His ten.
I know I’m still a nine, because for guys like me it never gets to ten. And even if it did, it wouldn’t stop there.
That’s the Blackpill, the one they don’t put in the sidebar.
That’s what they don’t get.
It never stops. No matter how many times you re-run your puberty.
But that’s the other black pill. Not the ideology. The real thing.
The one hidden in my shoe.
The one they didn’t find.
I don’t reach for the water.
I simply put it in my mouth.
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