Anonymous stories
You know, you didn’t think about why you feel bad, why you roar. Yes, of course you thought about it, and most often you say it to your friends, or vice versa to your parents, because some parents don’t understand, so I’ll say: Do you think suicide will help grief ?! No, it will not help you, but it will do harm, think if you will [...]
My mother and stepfather drink very often, and then they fight. For 13 and about 2 years I put up with all this. It all started with the fact that in the New Year of 2017, my stepfather hit my mother in the face. I was terribly scared and immediately told this to my brother, brother tried to explain to her that this is not normal, well, of course, my mother didn’t listen to him and that’s all [...]
,She was walking with her boyfriend today. He invited his friends to go for a walk, well, Iya decided to call a friend too. We walked in a big company, and I can’t be in a big company for a long time. Well, there was a boy of about 17 years old. He started to climb to my girlfriend Ira. Sasha had a pack of cigarettes. Well, I was not against smoking a cigarette. Sanya started to climb to me too. My boyfriend didn’t [...]
I feel bad because it seems to me that my boyfriend is cheating on me ... He pays almost no attention to me, but all the time with my classmate. Today I saw that she somehow pressed against him on the street and I was offended. I wrote: go to the watch. Then he said that there was nothing like that, but [...]
I live with my grandmother and they require some kind of certificate of authorization from my mother, supposedly my grandmother does not have the right to educate me. They threatened to expel. Now about the mathematician: she humiliated that I won’t go anywhere, even a classmate hit her on the head. Is this the norm? And the director of shopping mall is generally a separate issue, humiliating, oskarboyal throughout the school, due to trial [...]
,I didn’t tell anyone about this, but it’s very difficult for me ... When I was 10-11 years old, I was the most ordinary child. Nearly. I undressed in front of my younger brother and he did the same. Later we rubbed against each other, most often on my initiative. This happened several times, and for a long time I felt dirty. I am ashamed of [...]
I don’t know, probably this topic is very hackneyed, but I just can’t keep silent about it ... I’m a girl, I’m 22 years old and I never had a boyfriend. I don’t know if this is normal, but when I walk past a cute couple walking on the street, I feel so bad that I am alone ... I [...]
Lived, called. Well, all of a sudden this will really help put everything on the shelves. Briefly about myself - a guy who is too trusting, kind and naive, but this is not the problem. The fact is that I'm gay. No matter how I try to rebuild myself, no matter how I break my thinking, the only thing I have achieved is depression and apathy, good, internal [...]
I don’t even know if it’s customary to tell such a thing. But I just feel really bad. Recently, I remembered that in childhood (when I was 11-13 years old), I spent the night with my cousins. There was only one bed. I slept on it, my cousin (2 years younger than me), and my other cousin, who was 5 years old. [...]
Hello everyone, this story is about me and about the fact that I want true love, I’m at least 12 years old, but in the 1st grade I fell in love with Pasha, someone told him about it only because I made a big mistake, I told about love to two friends, they already Sun handed him from those [...]
,Today I again had a fight with my mother. Recently, this has been happening much more often. I do not know what to do. I want to make peace with her, but after her words that I am an ungrateful daughter, a prostitute, ready to sleep with anyone. It's hard for me. I want to die. The story is published as is and not edited.
The Internet is a gigantic information universe. There are many anonymous communities where a person can speak out or ask for advice without giving his name. We offer you a selection of stories that users would never tell in real life or even just under their own name. At least they say so.
I am German. My father is a national socialist. I was raised in the spirit of German folklore, the essence of which was that I am special, because I belong to the Aryan race. Among other things, he regularly attends meetings and meetings of his political organization. Among my friends there are many Jews and Slavs. I cannot confess to them that my father is a Nazi, and I say that he died when I was a child.
When I was in my first year at college, my stepmother often drank heavily. Once, being completely insane about the amount of alcohol drunk, she came into my room and kissed me on the lips (in an adult way). Judging by her slurred and drunken speech, she did this because she was ashamed of how badly she treated me in school. I was so confused that I allowed her to have, and I made love to her for about 10 minutes probably. In the end, my father returned, and I managed to stop it all seconds before he could see it or guess something.
I was very young, I was three or four years old. I wandered around the house and wandered into my parents room. By chance, I came across a box of medicines that (as I know now) were medicines for breast cancer and depression, which my mother often fell into because of the aforementioned disease. I decided to hide them in my room and wait for her to come and start looking for them. I wanted to give them to my mother as soon as she entered my room in search of a box. However, when she came and did not see the medicine, she began a real panic attack: she screamed and worried so much that I was scared and could not say that I had hidden them. Not finding any medicine, my mother got into the car, drove to the bay (this is about half an hour drive from our house) and committed suicide. I could not tell my father. I still can’t look him in the eye.
At the university, I had one friend who did not know how to behave with girls at all - he looked awkward and was generally extremely unpleasant. My friend and I decided to play it. They wrote from my friend’s number (this guy had my number) that this was supposedly one of the first-year students of our faculty (which, of course, did not exist in reality). We wrote that she liked him, and from that moment began a lengthy correspondence. When he asked for a photo, we sent a photo of a girl from a DVD lying nearby - he was seduced. Then we sent him a photo of "her ass", which was actually the bend of my elbow - and he was seduced again. While this fun lasted, he tattered the whole university that he had a girlfriend in real life, and that they had sex around the clock. Of course, we knew that this was a lie, but did not say anything.
Soon, during the Christmas holidays, his mother found correspondence with this “girl” on his phone and sawed him all the holidays. We wanted to confess, but it had to be done somehow humiliatingly for him, and his mother had a hot temper, so we did not dare. But we stopped the correspondence from that day. Despite this, our newly-born “boyfriend” boasted for another year about his relationship with an imaginary girl, describing in detail both sex and all other little things. We never confessed. Only we knew what he, in essence, endured.
I haven’t been talking with my mom for a long time. The real reason is that for many years I tried to dissuade her from suicide and actually prevented the tragedy several times. My patience snapped when I was 19. Then she called me at three in the morning and said that she again had a fight with her boyfriend. I came to her house and forcibly took her bottle of pills from her, as she once again tried to commit suicide. She tried several times to take her own life and never agreed to treatment. I could no longer be the person constantly stopping her.
I cried all night, because tomorrow my best friend is getting married, and I just realized that I still love her.
I somehow had to pay with a blowjob for the original Beatles album on a vinyl record. The guy who offered me this was my buddy. To be honest, I do not regret it, especially when I listen to Rubber Soul or Help songs ... although the taste of his eggs still pops up in my memory ... and in my mouth.
My father had bowel cancer. He suffered for a long time: he underwent both chemotherapy and morphine injections. In the end, he hardly spoke, did not move, his stomach became simply huge, and he suffered from terrible pains. Once he felt ill - apparently the effect of the dose of morphine ended a little earlier than the doctors had expected. We had to additionally call a nurse to administer the next dose. All the while we were waiting for her, my father moaned from terrible pain, and it was simply unbearable, especially for my mother.
To facilitate care, the sister showed our mother how, in which case, it is possible to introduce a dose of morphine and how to adjust the dosage. Shortly afterwards, one day, my sister and I, as always, wished him good night, and left the room. Mom stayed a little longer and had to enter the prescribed dose of morphine before leaving. The next morning we were informed that my father passed away at night. And it seems to me and my sister (we are almost sure) that my mother, who was desperate and tired of contemplating her father in this state, simply increased the dose of morphine ... she increased it well. Neither doctors nor mother ever talked about this. But even if she did this, we have nothing to blame her for: our father suffered, and death became a relief for him.
Once, back in high school, my friend lent me his pen because I forgot mine. I needed her only for a couple of minutes to write something down. Literally a moment later, the teacher saw that he did not have a pen, and kicked him out of the classroom. We were both so confused that he silently went out the door, but I never said that in fact his handle is mine. I am still ashamed of it. But I still have a chance to "return the favor" - now I am his godfather's son and am ready to help at any time.
Every day I tell my wife that I like her makeup. In fact, I can not stand him, and I think that she is better off without him. But she herself likes her makeup, so I decided to lie.
Once, when I was 10, I saw how my mother and my stepfather were making love - I just walked in, but they did not hear and did not see me. I, realizing that the situation was not agile, quickly backed away and closed the door. 40 years have passed.
I know my boyfriend’s nickname in one of the anonymous social networks and often watch what kind of news he likes. Not that I'm spying - I just want to learn more about his hobbies. Despite the fact that we have been dating for 3 years - he hardly speaks to me about his interests.
I am German. My father is a national socialist. I was raised in the spirit of German folklore, the essence of which was that I am special, because I belong to the Aryan race. Among other things, he regularly attends meetings and meetings of his political organization. Among my friends there are many Jews and Slavs. I cannot confess to them that my father is a Nazi, and I say that he died when I was a child.
When I was in my first year at college, my stepmother often drank heavily. Once, being completely insane about the amount of alcohol drunk, she came into my room and kissed me on the lips (in an adult way). Judging by her slurred and drunken speech, she did this because she was ashamed of how badly she treated me in school. I was so confused that I allowed her to have, and I made love to her for about 10 minutes probably. In the end, my father returned, and I managed to stop it all seconds before he could see it or guess something.
I was very small, I was three or four years old. I wandered around the house and wandered into my parents room. By chance, I came across a box of medicines that (as I know now) were medicines for breast cancer and depression, which my mother often fell into because of the aforementioned disease. I decided to hide them in my room and wait for her to come and start looking for them.
I wanted to give them to my mother as soon as she entered my room in search of a box. However, when she came and did not see the medicine, she began a real panic attack: she screamed and worried so much that I was scared and could not say that I had hidden them. Not finding any medicine, my mother got into the car, drove to the bay (this is about half an hour drive from our house) and committed suicide. I could not tell my father. I still can’t look him in the eye.
At the university, I had one friend who did not know how to behave with girls at all - he looked awkward and was generally extremely unpleasant. My friend and I decided to play it. They wrote from my friend’s number (this guy had my number) that this was supposedly one of the first-year students of our faculty (which, of course, did not exist in reality). We wrote that she liked him, and from that moment began a lengthy correspondence. When he asked for a photo, we sent a photo of a girl from a DVD lying nearby - he was seduced. Then we sent him a photo of "her ass", which was actually the bend of my elbow - and he was seduced again. While this fun lasted, he tattered the whole university that he had a girlfriend in real life, and that they had sex around the clock. Of course, we knew that this was a lie, but did not say anything.
Soon, during the Christmas holidays, his mother found correspondence with this “girl” on his phone and sawed him all the holidays. We wanted to confess, but it had to be done somehow humiliatingly for him, and his mother had a hot temper, so we did not dare. But we stopped the correspondence from that day. Despite this, our newly-born “boyfriend” boasted for another year about his relationship with an imaginary girl, describing in detail both sex and all other little things. We never confessed. Only we knew what he, in essence, endured.
***
I haven’t been talking with my mom for a long time. The real reason is that for many years I tried to dissuade her from suicide and actually prevented the tragedy several times. My patience snapped when I was 19. Then she called me at three in the morning and said that she again had a fight with her boyfriend. I came to her house and forcibly took her bottle of pills from her, as she once again tried to commit suicide. She tried several times to take her own life and never agreed to treatment. I could no longer be the person constantly stopping her.
I cried all night, because tomorrow my best friend is getting married, and I just realized that I still love her.
I somehow had to pay with a blowjob for the original Beatles album on a vinyl record. The guy who offered me this was my buddy. To be honest, I do not regret it, especially when I listen to Rubber Soul or Help songs ... although the taste of his eggs still pops up in my memory ... and in my mouth.
My father had bowel cancer. He suffered for a long time: he underwent both chemotherapy and morphine injections. In the end, he hardly spoke, did not move, his stomach became simply huge, and he suffered from terrible pains. Once he felt ill - apparently the effect of the dose of morphine ended a little earlier than the doctors had expected. We had to additionally call a nurse to administer the next dose. All the while we were waiting for her, my father moaned from terrible pain, and it was simply unbearable, especially for my mother.
To facilitate care, the sister showed our mother how, in which case, it is possible to introduce a dose of morphine and how to adjust the dosage. Shortly afterwards, one day, my sister and I, as always, wished him good night, and left the room. Mom stayed a little longer and had to enter the prescribed dose of morphine before leaving. The next morning we were informed that my father passed away at night. And it seems to me and my sister (we are almost sure) that my mother, who was desperate and tired of contemplating her father in this state, simply increased the dose of morphine ... she increased it well. Neither doctors nor mother ever talked about this. But even if she did this, we have nothing to blame her for: our father suffered, and death became a relief for him.
Once, back in high school, my friend lent me his pen because I forgot mine. I needed her only for a couple of minutes to write something down. Literally a moment later, the teacher saw that he did not have a pen, and kicked him out of the classroom. We were both so confused that he silently went out the door, but I never said that in fact his handle is mine. I am still ashamed of it. But I still have a chance to "return the favor" - now I am his godfather's son and am ready to help at any time.
Every day I tell my wife that I like her makeup. In fact, I can not stand him, and I think that she is better off without him. But she herself likes her makeup, so I decided to lie.
Once, when I was 10, I saw how my mother and my stepfather were making love - I just walked in, but they did not hear and did not see me. I, realizing that the situation was not agile, quickly backed away and closed the door. 40 years have passed.
I know my boyfriend’s nickname in one of the anonymous social networks and often watch what kind of news he likes. Not that I'm spying - I just want to learn more about his hobbies. Despite the fact that we have been dating for 3 years - he hardly speaks to me about his interests.
There are many anonymous communities on the Internet where a person can speak out or ask for advice without giving his name. We offer you a selection of stories that users would never tell in real life or even just under their own name. At least they say so
Translation for - Anna Kiseleva
The Internet is a gigantic information universe. There are many anonymous communities where a person can speak out or ask for advice without giving his name. We offer you a selection of stories that users would never tell in real life or even just under their own name. At least they say so.
I am German. My father is a national socialist. I was raised in the spirit of German folklore, the essence of which was that I am special, because I belong to the Aryan race. Among other things, he regularly attends meetings and meetings of his political organization. Among my friends there are many Jews and Slavs. I cannot confess to them that my father is a Nazi, and I say that he died when I was a child.
When I was in my first year at college, my stepmother often drank heavily. Once, being completely insane about the amount of alcohol drunk, she came into my room and kissed me on the lips (in an adult way). Judging by her slurred and drunken speech, she did this because she was ashamed of how badly she treated me in school. I was so confused that I allowed her to have, and I made love to her for about 10 minutes probably. In the end, my father returned, and I managed to stop it all seconds before he could see it or guess something.
I was very young, I was three or four years old. I wandered around the house and wandered into my parents room. By chance, I came across a box of medicines that (as I know now) were medicines for breast cancer and depression, which my mother often fell into because of the aforementioned disease. I decided to hide them in my room and wait for her to come and start looking for them. I wanted to give them to my mother as soon as she entered my room in search of a box. However, when she came and did not see the medicine, she began a real panic attack: she screamed and worried so much that I was scared and could not say that I had hidden them. Not finding any medicine, my mother got into the car, drove to the bay (this is about half an hour drive from our house) and committed suicide. I could not tell my father. I still can’t look him in the eye.
At the university, I had one friend who did not know how to behave with girls at all - he looked awkward and was generally extremely unpleasant. My friend and I decided to play it. They wrote from my friend’s number (this guy had my number) that this was supposedly one of the first-year students of our faculty (which, of course, did not exist in reality). We wrote that she liked him, and from that moment began a lengthy correspondence. When he asked for a photo, we sent a photo of a girl from a DVD lying nearby - he was seduced. Then we sent him a photo of "her ass", which was actually the bend of my elbow - and he was seduced again. While this fun lasted, he tattered the whole university that he had a girlfriend in real life, and that they had sex around the clock. Of course, we knew that this was a lie, but did not say anything.
Soon, during the Christmas holidays, his mother found correspondence with this “girl” on his phone and sawed him all the holidays. We wanted to confess, but it had to be done somehow humiliatingly for him, and his mother had a hot temper, so we did not dare. But we stopped the correspondence from that day. Despite this, our newly-born “boyfriend” boasted for another year about his relationship with an imaginary girl, describing in detail both sex and all other little things. We never confessed. Only we knew what he, in essence, endured.
I haven’t been talking with my mom for a long time. The real reason is that for many years I tried to dissuade her from suicide and actually prevented the tragedy several times. My patience snapped when I was 19. Then she called me at three in the morning and said that she again had a fight with her boyfriend. I came to her house and forcibly took her bottle of pills from her, as she once again tried to commit suicide. She tried several times to take her own life and never agreed to treatment. I could no longer be the person constantly stopping her.
I cried all night, because tomorrow my best friend is getting married, and I just realized that I still love her.
I somehow had to pay with a blowjob for the original Beatles album on a vinyl record. The guy who offered me this was my buddy. To be honest, I do not regret it, especially when I listen to Rubber Soul or Help songs ... although the taste of his eggs still pops up in my memory ... and in my mouth.
My father had bowel cancer. He suffered for a long time: he underwent both chemotherapy and morphine injections. In the end, he hardly spoke, did not move, his stomach became simply huge, and he suffered from terrible pains. Once he felt ill - apparently the effect of the dose of morphine ended a little earlier than the doctors had expected. We had to additionally call a nurse to administer the next dose. All the while we were waiting for her, my father moaned from terrible pain, and it was simply unbearable, especially for my mother.
To facilitate care, the sister showed our mother how, in which case, it is possible to introduce a dose of morphine and how to adjust the dosage. Shortly afterwards, one day, my sister and I, as always, wished him good night, and left the room. Mom stayed a little longer and had to enter the prescribed dose of morphine before leaving. The next morning we were informed that my father passed away at night. And it seems to me and my sister (we are almost sure) that my mother, who was desperate and tired of contemplating her father in this state, simply increased the dose of morphine ... she increased it well. Neither doctors nor mother ever talked about this. But even if she did this, we have nothing to blame her for: our father suffered, and death became a relief for him.
Once, back in high school, my friend lent me his pen because I forgot mine. I needed her only for a couple of minutes to write something down. Literally a moment later, the teacher saw that he did not have a pen, and kicked him out of the classroom. We were both so confused that he silently went out the door, but I never said that in fact his handle is mine. I am still ashamed of it. But I still have a chance to "return the favor" - now I am his godfather's son and am ready to help at any time.
Every day I tell my wife that I like her makeup. In fact, I can not stand him, and I think that she is better off without him. But she herself likes her makeup, so I decided to lie.
Once, when I was 10, I saw how my mother and my stepfather were making love - I just walked in, but they did not hear and did not see me. I, realizing that the situation was not agile, quickly backed away and closed the door. 40 years have passed.
I know my boyfriend’s nickname in one of the anonymous social networks and often watch what kind of news he likes. Not that I'm spying - I just want to learn more about his hobbies. Despite the fact that we have been dating for 3 years - he hardly speaks to me about his interests.
Many of you want to anonymously watch other people's stories without being burnt. Fortunately, now every day there are more and more new services that make you feel like a real spy. And all the same, to remain unperturbed before the former, because you did not burn his stories and his girlfriends ?.
Black list
The easiest option that works is the Blacklist. How to do it? Look at the history and immediately block this profile. And a person will never see that you watched something from him. After a while, you can get him out of the emergency and watch his story again.
Assistant spy
Can I view stories in anagram anonymously and how? Can! The bot from Telegram will help us with this. He is called @IGSpyBot and he has a spy on av?
How to view stories anonymously on Instagram:
- In search of Telegram find the bot @IGSpyBot and write to him.
- Enter the nickname of the one whose story you want to view secretly in the field, or leave a link to his post.
- After a few seconds, the bot will send stories in video format.
- They will only have to download to your phone.
When viewing stories through this bot, a person has an inscription that his story was viewed. But, on the other hand, he will not know that it is you.
Another bot
You can watch story anonymously through the bot @Instasave_botin the same Telegram. We talked about him in our other article, which described in detail,. Everything is easy here: if you see that a person has posted a story, you can immediately download it without browsing the social network.
How to watch story on instagram anonymously:
- Open Telegram, find in bot search @Instasave_bot.
- Throw him the nickname of the one whose stories you want to download.
- After a few seconds, the bot will ask you to select the desired story, if there are several of them in a person.
- It remains only to save story in Camera Roll.
For Android
You can anonymously watch instagram stories on android through the application Xinsta.
The program will not work on clean firmware! You must have administrator rights set,SuperSu andXposedInstaller!
How to look at Instagram anonymously and covertly:
- Download Xinsta and install on the phone.
- An activation notification pops up from above. You need to activate with a complete reboot of the phone.
- After rebooting, go to Xinstapull the left curtain and find the item Stories privacy.
- Turn it on.
- Now you can anonymously watch other people's stories and go unnoticed.
Useful site
You can watch stories anonymously and covertly through this site. You do not need to enter your username or password on it, just enter the nickname of the person you want to spy a little on. Also on the site you can download any post and save it to your phone or PC and see the ava on Instagram in a large size.
Now you know how to anonymously watch the stories of strangers! Through bots, you can see stories even with closed accounts. Be careful not to burn!
Thank you for your time.
