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Anything Goes
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Gay Male / 18
I Am A Freak: An Introduction
Hi,
My name is CumDrop.
Obviously, it's not my real name, but if anyone who knows me in real life were to see this, they would know it's me. That's because it's the name I was given back in 7th grade; it was meant to ridicule me, but, TBH, I like it, just like I like a lot of things most people would be either sickened by or grossed out by. And that's the point of this confession.
Well, actually, there's quite a bit more than that brought me here quite a bit more that brought me here.
I know that I will receive dislikes and votes to get my posts deleted from this, I have already seen it with other posts I have made. The title of the site makes it obvious what it is about, and having read a large number of posts here from every category, I have seen that most of the posters and readers are looking for quick masturbation material, but what do I care? I'm not here to judge people... Glass House and Stones and All.
This is going to be a true confession... I am going to reveal things about myself very few have any clue about. At best, there are a handful who have knowledge about me, but all they know are little pieces of the whole... Tips of the Iceberg, as it were. There's a lot to reveal, this is only going to be, as the title suggests, just an introduction. It's okay to throw shade and hatred at me; it's okay to laugh and ridicule me. I have gotten to expect it from people... It's just simply part of my world.
For this post, I thought I would start with who and what I am.
So, here goes... nothing...
When I was born, my mother was repulsed at the sight of me; she refused to nurse me because she couldn't stand any contact with me. She refused to be in the same room with me, saying I was a freak, and at one point, even said she should have aborted me. Two months after going home, she simply got up one morning and left, leaving me home alone until Daddy came home from work... some 9 hours later.
Her reason?
I was born with a type of Albinism. I have the milk-white skin coloring of someone with my condition, but I don't have the white hair or red eyes most people associate with it. Instead, my hair is a bright orangish-red; the hair on my head, eyebrows, eyelashes, and even the ultra-fine hairs we all have covering our bodies are that color, with that last giving me a weird pinkish tinge in certain lights, like really white fluorescents.
Go ahead and picture that.
Yeah, I look like some sort of weird real-life clown. You can laugh; it's okay. I don't care if you do any more than if you decide to hate me for it... like my mother did.
I know all this from overhearing my Daddy talking about it with my new Mommy, who he married when I was 2 years old. She's a really good person, caring and loving, and she's been my primary caregiver and the one who has helped me get through the worst of times growing up.
Kindergarten was my first real exposure to other children outside of my cousin Mikey. Everyone stared and gawked at me when I walked into the classroom. Everyone was sitting on big pillows in a half circle. The teacher went to a back corner and got one for me, setting it down in the back row, but as she was walking back and I was walking to my pillow, the boy who I would have been sitting next to grabbed my pillow and dragged it back away from him and the others. He didn't want to sit next to me. I don't remember much about that day, though I spent the rest of the school year in that back spot.
The other kids would pull away whenever I got close, especially at recess. I spent it alone, sitting on a bench by the classroom door. Sometimes they would gather in pairs and in little groups and look at me, whispering and giggling to each other. None of the teachers watching over us said or did anything about it; they would always turn their heads and act like nothing was wrong.
On the second or third day, the teacher let us color when we came back from our first recess. While we were gone, she had arranged everyone's pillow around three low round tables that she dragged from the back of the room. She had placed buckets of crayons and stacks of coloring books in the center of each table for us. Each kid gathered around the table where their pillow was, laughing and having fun. I was last to sit down.
I went to where my pillow was and sat down, reaching for a coloring book. Before I got to the stack, the girl I had sat down next to (there was a boy on the other side) suddenly pulled away from me, pressing up against the girl next to her, and burst out crying uncontrollably. The teacher hurried over and asked her what was wrong. She responded by pointing at me and said I scared her... that I was a monster.
End of part one of my intro...
My name is CumDrop.
Obviously, it's not my real name, but if anyone who knows me in real life were to see this, they would know it's me. That's because it's the name I was given back in 7th grade; it was meant to ridicule me, but, TBH, I like it, just like I like a lot of things most people would be either sickened by or grossed out by. And that's the point of this confession.
Well, actually, there's quite a bit more than that brought me here quite a bit more that brought me here.
I know that I will receive dislikes and votes to get my posts deleted from this, I have already seen it with other posts I have made. The title of the site makes it obvious what it is about, and having read a large number of posts here from every category, I have seen that most of the posters and readers are looking for quick masturbation material, but what do I care? I'm not here to judge people... Glass House and Stones and All.
This is going to be a true confession... I am going to reveal things about myself very few have any clue about. At best, there are a handful who have knowledge about me, but all they know are little pieces of the whole... Tips of the Iceberg, as it were. There's a lot to reveal, this is only going to be, as the title suggests, just an introduction. It's okay to throw shade and hatred at me; it's okay to laugh and ridicule me. I have gotten to expect it from people... It's just simply part of my world.
For this post, I thought I would start with who and what I am.
So, here goes... nothing...
When I was born, my mother was repulsed at the sight of me; she refused to nurse me because she couldn't stand any contact with me. She refused to be in the same room with me, saying I was a freak, and at one point, even said she should have aborted me. Two months after going home, she simply got up one morning and left, leaving me home alone until Daddy came home from work... some 9 hours later.
Her reason?
I was born with a type of Albinism. I have the milk-white skin coloring of someone with my condition, but I don't have the white hair or red eyes most people associate with it. Instead, my hair is a bright orangish-red; the hair on my head, eyebrows, eyelashes, and even the ultra-fine hairs we all have covering our bodies are that color, with that last giving me a weird pinkish tinge in certain lights, like really white fluorescents.
Go ahead and picture that.
Yeah, I look like some sort of weird real-life clown. You can laugh; it's okay. I don't care if you do any more than if you decide to hate me for it... like my mother did.
I know all this from overhearing my Daddy talking about it with my new Mommy, who he married when I was 2 years old. She's a really good person, caring and loving, and she's been my primary caregiver and the one who has helped me get through the worst of times growing up.
Kindergarten was my first real exposure to other children outside of my cousin Mikey. Everyone stared and gawked at me when I walked into the classroom. Everyone was sitting on big pillows in a half circle. The teacher went to a back corner and got one for me, setting it down in the back row, but as she was walking back and I was walking to my pillow, the boy who I would have been sitting next to grabbed my pillow and dragged it back away from him and the others. He didn't want to sit next to me. I don't remember much about that day, though I spent the rest of the school year in that back spot.
The other kids would pull away whenever I got close, especially at recess. I spent it alone, sitting on a bench by the classroom door. Sometimes they would gather in pairs and in little groups and look at me, whispering and giggling to each other. None of the teachers watching over us said or did anything about it; they would always turn their heads and act like nothing was wrong.
On the second or third day, the teacher let us color when we came back from our first recess. While we were gone, she had arranged everyone's pillow around three low round tables that she dragged from the back of the room. She had placed buckets of crayons and stacks of coloring books in the center of each table for us. Each kid gathered around the table where their pillow was, laughing and having fun. I was last to sit down.
I went to where my pillow was and sat down, reaching for a coloring book. Before I got to the stack, the girl I had sat down next to (there was a boy on the other side) suddenly pulled away from me, pressing up against the girl next to her, and burst out crying uncontrollably. The teacher hurried over and asked her what was wrong. She responded by pointing at me and said I scared her... that I was a monster.
End of part one of my intro...
# 65825 - by
CumDrop / June 5, 2023
