Caught Masterbating; A Cautionary Tale of the Hurt Caused by a Shameless Email Scam

I got hacked!

You will not believe the pain and torment that I went through.

It was so horrible that I feel I must, as a public service announcement, share it with the world.

The best way I can figure to do so is with a line by line post. A line from the email followed by my reaction.

Email: IMPORTANT! You have been recorded masturbating!

JB: What the fuck?!

Email: The last time you visited a porn website with teens, you downloaded and installed the software I developed.

JB: OMG! I’m not really all that into teens, but I guess a 19-year-old could have snuck her way into my porn-viewing window. I only stream porn though, so I’m not sure what this downloading talk is about.

Email: My program has turned on your camera and recorded the process of your masturbation.

JB: OMG! That’s hot!

Email: My software has also grabbed all your email contact lists and a list of your friends on Facebook.

JB: Wow, that software is no joke. I haven’t looked at FB in ages, but I think I still have a shit-ton of friends on there.

Email: I have a file of you jerking off to teens as well as a file with all your contacts on my computer.

JB: Yeah, you just said that. It’s super hot! I mean, the contacts from my computer is not so hot, but a file of me jerking off is hot as fuck. You lucky dog, you.

Email: You are very perverted!

JB: Thank you.

Email: If you want me to delete both the files and keep the secret, you must send me Bitcoin payment. I give you 72 hours for the payment.

JB: What? Why would I want you to delete the me-jerking-off file? If anything, I want you to jerk off to it. Or at least share it with the world. If you sell it, you’ll probably make enough money to retire off.

Email: If you don't know how to pay with Bitcoin, visit Google and search.

JB: I’m starting to not like your tone. I know how to pay with Bitcoin, you patronizing asshole. I use it to pay dickbags like you on the dark web to kill dickbags like your mom. Can we get back to the video of me masterbating please?

Email: Send 2.000 USD to this Bitcoin address as soon as possible: 3J2x5swqMbFLEf6kv8N5XKZeKA3CZPi9D7

JB: Quit jerking me around. I need to know what’s happening with the video of me beating off.

Email: 1 BTC = 3,850 USD right now, so send exactly 0.523671 BTC to the address provided above.

JB: OMG! Stop tormenting me already.

Email: Do not try to cheat me! As soon as you open this Email I will know you opened it. I am tracking all actions on your device.

JB: Okay, then you know what I’m going through. Let’s get back to the video. What are we doing with the video?!

Email: If you don't send the payment, I will send your masturbation video to ALL YOUR FRIENDS AND ASSOCIATES from your contact lists I hacked. Don't cheat me! Don't forget the shame and if you ignore this message your life will be ruined. I am waiting for your Bitcoin payment. You have 72 hours left. -Anonymous Hacker

JB: Oh, thank God! You are the Man, Anonymous Hacker!!! I’ve been wanting to send a video of me pleasuring myself to all my friends and associates since I first discovered how good I am at it, but I always thought it would be tacky if it came from me. No pun intended with the ‘came’ in that last sentence. Anyhoo, I’m too embarrassed to send all my friends and associates a run-of-the-mill dick-pic, so this truly is a Godsend that you’re offering to send not just a masterbation video, but the perfect masterbation video. Perfect because I was unaware that I was being filmed. So there’s no self-consciousness like when I usually film myself beating off and the performance is shit cause I know the camera’s there and I’m either hamming it up for the camera or trying too hard to pretend like the camera’s not there. It’s impossible. I can never get it right. And there you go — you perfect selfless human being — you go and film me without me even knowing and I can only imagine the masterpiece you have at your fingertips. My only regret is not cuming on my webcam. But I’ll not make that mistake ever again. Anyhoo, where were we? To be honest, I’m on cloud nine like Gavin Rossdale and I don’t wanna come back down from this cloud. Totally no pun intended with Gavin Rossdale’s “come,” but we should probably get back to it.

Email: Here are the payment details again: Send 0.523671 BTC to this Bitcoin address: 3J2x5swqMbFLEf6kv8N5XKZeKA3CZPi9D7

JB: Totally not needed unless you want me to pay you to not share it with my friends and associates.

***

So that’s where the missive ended. As you can tell, I could not have been happier. I had been hacked, and I couldn’t wait for my hacker-in-shining-armor to share my one-man-sex-show with my friends and associates.

All I had to do was wait three days.

It was tough, but I made it through the first 24 hours, thoughts of my dick-sex video on the marquee. The next 24 hours would be a totally different story though.

As expected, the second 24 hours was worse than the first. It was like time slowed and became a cute-yet-endangered species caught in a visually pleasing net. Was I truly on the cusp of achieving my dream? Or was this “Anonymous Hacker” just another scammer? Just another asshole out there breaking dreams and hearts.

The last 24 hours was the worst of all. Time slowed to crawl. Each second was like an hour. Each hour was like a longer hour. And each longer hour was like a millennium.

Less than two seconds into it, I rightly determined that the only thing that would get me through was intravenous drugs. So I shot up my left arm with 1,000 mg of freebased cocaine, despite not knowing what ‘freebased’ meant or whether mg stood for ‘milligram’ or ‘megagram.’ I still have no clue on either count. But that’s how desperate I was for this to happen. THAT’S HOW DESPERATE I WAS!

72 hours passed and … nothing.

I knew I couldn’t last so I shot 1,005 mg of freebased cocaine.

When I came to … nothing.

So I shot 1,010 mg.

When I came to … nothing.

1,015 mg.

Nothing.

1,020 mg.

Nothing.

1,021 mg.

Nothing. I couldn’t take no more! A couple weeks or a couple days or a couple hours had passed since the deadline and my self-pleasure documentary was nowhere to be found.

I checked with friends. “Have you received a video of me jacking off to teens?”

Over the next 6-8 weeks at least one of them replied. The answer: “Nope.”

I checked with associates. “Hey, I know we don’t get a chance to talk all that often, but any chance you received a film featuring me giving the business to my one-eyed Willy?”

Nada.

I even checked with … family. Like … my mom.

“Skank, you seen a recent vid of me jerking it?’

No dice.

I cried for a fucking week. No exaggeration.

The game was up. I had been scammed. That “Anonymous Hacker” had never intended to broadcast my choke-the-chicken film to the public.

From the get-go, that motherfucker had intended to keep it all to himself.

I should have known.

What a sucker, I am. Pathetic. A filthy, deplorable, no-good piece of trash.

I’ve never felt so dirty as I did in that moment. I was worthless garbage. I needed a shower like a drowning child needs air.

So that’s what I did.

I showered.

While beating off.

And crying.

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