That Time The Feds Busted Me For Watching Porn

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Nice Move

Porn Cops

I finally caved a few weeks ago and let my girlfriend move into my apartment. It’s been nice getting my wick moistened on demand, but it was an absolutely horrible decision and I’ve regretted it ever since. My apartment is about as big as a Vietnamese prison cell, and ever since moving in, my girlfriend has decided to turn into a homebody, only leaving the apartment in the event of a medical emergency. I often fantasize about holding a chloroform rag over her mouth just to get some alone time.

Luckily, I got some really good news early last week. Her best friend put together a girls night out and somehow convinced her to go out with them last night. Normally, I find her best friend to be about as likeable as an infected genital lesion, but I gained a newfound respect for her for giving me a much-needed night alone. I could finally pleasure myself while choking off my windpipe in peace.

My lady left the house last night at 6:15, and by 6:20, I had already washed down a handful of pharmaceuticals with a tumbler of scotch and was settling in for a long night of stomach-turning pornography. By 7 p.m., I was half naked and breathing heavily, having already visited dozens of retina-scarring websites in the deepest and darkest corners of the Interwebs.

Things were going great, and I was really enjoying my time alone–but everything changed in an instant.

Just as I clicked on a link to see a middle-aged Bulgarian woman defecating on a two-way mirror, my computer screen froze and a window appeared with the words “USA Cyber Security.” The page was flanked with the insignias of the Department of Justice and the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

After violently evacuating my bowels deep into my underwear, I began frantically hitting the escape button, trying to get off this screen. Nothing was happening. I couldn’t even move the cursor. My heart felt like it was about to burst through my chest and I think I started to black out. I’m not sure if it was the anxiety, the chemicals, or a little bit of both, but I was having a hard time thinking clearly.

There was a lot of text on the screen, but I noticed a line that said the FBI had frozen my computer and encrypted my data, and that I was being accused of viewing and storing banned pornography. My mind began to race as I tried to recall if I had viewed anything that was technically illegal.

Hmmm? Let’s see. I had only been browsing for about 30 minutes, so I hadn’t even really gotten into the hard stuff yet. A few cuckolding videos and a couple of CFNM clips were all that came to mind. The most risqué scene was probably the one where a young woman was pegging an elderly man with a Hillary Clinton fist-shaped strap on. I’m sure most people would find that to be visually repugnant, but as long as both actors were of age, I don’ t think it would be considered illegal.

I kept reading the text on the screen. The next line down mentioned something about zoophilia and that’s when I knew they had me. Earlier in the afternoon, I fell into a YouTube rabbit hole viewing bestiality documentaries after watching a Vice segment on donkey fucking in northern Colombia (the country, not the Missouri college town).

This must have been what triggered the freeze. None of these animal videos constituted pornography in my opinion, because they were actual documentaries–but I knew that would be a tough sell to the feds.

I really lost my mind when I saw my IP address and city of residence at the top of the screen. I started to think the FBI was minutes away from bashing in my front door with a battering ram and spraying me with tear gas and rubber bullets.

My first thought was to jump in my car and go off the grid for a few months, leaving my girlfriend to take the blame. Real knight in shining armor, huh? I figured I could pawn some of her jewelry, liquidate my 401(k), and hole up in an EconoLodge until everything settled down. I nixed that plan when I realized her jewelry box was locked and I don’t even have a 401(k).

My next thought was to smash my laptop into a million pieces, bury the evidence, lawyer up, and deny everything. I ultimately decided against this course of action, because I thought I would raise too many red flags showing up drunk and disheveled to the local corner store frantically looking for a flashlight and a shovel in the middle of the night.

Luckily before I did anything rash, I pulled out my phone and Googled what to expect for this type of infraction. I quickly realized this whole thing was a bullshit scam used to hornswoggle rubes out of their hard-earned money. Apparently, there was something at the bottom of the frozen pop-up screen that said if you pay $200 to the “Department of Treasury,” they will unlock your computer screen. Unfortunately, I didn’t see that part; otherwise even a lummox like me would’ve instantly known it was a complete hoax.

It’s actually a pretty good scam that they’ve got going, and I’m sure they’ve suckered more than a few halfwits out of a few small fortunes. If you think about it, I’m sure a few guys have lost more than just their money. Can’t you just picture some poor sap crying his eyes out with his larynx pressing against a tailpipe, thinking he just got busted by the feds for watching scat videos? Poor bastard.

Well, he’s actually the reason that I penned this tome. I want to raise awareness about this nefarious scam that is targeting our community. Now, normally when I hear someone talk about needing to “raise awareness,” it makes me want to shower that person in hemorrhoid puss and put a couple of burning slugs onto the back of his head, but with this issue, I can’t help myself. I feel a moral obligation to warn my fellow scumbags of the dangers that lurk on the Internet. So all you creeps out there, be on the lookout for the FBI MoneyPak Virus.

I wish you all safe browsing.

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