This is a fictional story told by Max J. Clayton.

The shit I do to groups of people.  As an Incubus if I’m having a good time, everyone else is not having a good time.

If I’m a miserable son of a bitch, everyone is having fun.

The fights I’ve seen because I was having a good time between people who never fought. From the yelling and what they were yelling at each other, fisticuffs were bound to happen. 

I figured it out, and it’s what I do with energy. If I don’t want to be bothered, everyone around me is trapped in their energy. They can’t repress or suppress shit.

I like having a good time. 

So people get to get fucked and it’s not something I intentionally do, it’s my energy.

I look at it this way, they get shit out and have to deal with it, fuck ’em if they can’t deal with their shit.

I’ve met other Incubi and Succubi and we all agree, fuck ’em.

If they dealt with themselves honestly, and saw themselves as they are, fuuuuuuuck.

Awareness is a gift and a curse.

The truly gifted have high awareness of themselves and the impact their life makes. 

The curse is living in this fuckety fucking fuck world. 

I did it, and I’ll do it again, and again until people fucking change and learn. 

The other Incubi and Succubi are aligned with it. We represent more than a 10% of the world’s population. 1 in 10 is an Incubus or Succubus. 

I can hold a party of 50, and as we get older we get stronger. Imagine the oldest. If I can hold 50 at 152.

Man the elders that have lived more than a thousand years, fuuuuckety fuck fuck.

I love my life, it’s so incredibly awesome being what I am.

I don’t feel sorry about it, not even a little bit.

Fuck ’em if they can’t take the joke they are.

In fact, I always mean it.