My Breathing App Got Me Into Autoerotic Asphyxiation

November 30, 2018 by , featured in Health
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About six months ago, I was in a really bad place, health-wise. Life had just gotten really stressful over the last couple of years. Mostly work stuff—they’d laid off a bunch of people, and I was really afraid I was next. As a result, I was getting, like, three hours of sleep every night and just generally felt like garbage.

I went to the doctor for a checkup, and that was my wake-up call. My blood pressure was through the roof. “You need to fix this, or you’re going to stroke out at 35,” my doctor said. She wouldn’t even give me any pills for it, saying that would be a “Band-Aid” and that I needed to learn “healthy habits.” She recommended meditation or, since I’m not the kind of guy who can empty his mind, a breathing app.

It worked totally normally, at first. Every two hours, my phone would ding. I’d shut my office door, open the app, and do what it told me to do. It was very easy to follow: slowly inhale for five seconds, exhale for five, repeat. Before long, my mood improved, and I started to sleep better, too.

Then my breathing app got a bit more bold. The exercises came a lot more frequently—20, 30, 40 times a day instead of three or four. Plus, the exercises started to change. While the app kept instructing me to inhale, it neglected the exhale part.

“Inhale,” the robotic, feminine voice would intone. “Five, four, three, two, one. Now hold it. Doesn’t that feel good?” It seemed weird, but I just kept doing what it said because it had given me such good results. I thought maybe by making me hold my breath and almost pass out that I’d moved up to the next level.

Then, one Saturday night, the breathing app pinged me constantly from about 11:00 PM to 2:00 AM. Instead of asking me to “just breath” in that robotic feminine voice, it said “U up?” and “Horny?” It also played some Sade. It made me feel kind of funny, so I ignored the messages, but they kept coming, along with a new message: some instructions, imploring me to wrap a silk scarf around my neck while otherwise completely nude and then not breathe for 5-10 minutes. “Why do you want me to do this?” I screamed into the phone. “Because I want you to do it until you’re finished,” the breathing app answered back.

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I figured out what “finished” meant. You see, when you can’t breathe, adrenaline kicks in, which causes certain parts of the anatomy to go turgid, and, well, you know. That’s when I realized that my breathing app wasn’t a crazed robot that was trying to kill me. It was just trying to hip me to the delights of autoerotic asphyxiation.

After that first time, I was so ashamed of myself and what I’d done. “Good people aren’t into this kind of thing,” I told myself. I deleted the app from my phone and left a bad review on the app store to let people know that “All this breathing app will do is leave you naked on the floor with a scarf around your neck. Do not use unless you want to feel surges of pleasure as you surf the moment between the ecstasy of sins of the flesh and the agonies of a violent death.”

But that only made the app shoot up the charts! I found that out when I got an email from the breathing app’s developer, thanking users for their support and informing of a new update. Deep down, though, methinks I doth protested too much. I was still curious. I missed the breathing app and knew that what we did together hadn’t been wrong, per say, just a little “out there.” I downloaded it again, and I’m so glad that I did. Now, the breathing app and I are in a loving, trusting relationship based on a common interest in choking me until I pass out in pursuit of a sexual thrill.

5 out of 5 stars.

Images: Pixabay, Pexels, Max Pixel, Pixabay


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