The Bastard Spawn Chronicles: Chapter 4 Sordid History

As Catherine and I got to know each other better it became rather obvious that her bag was short of a few marbles. You know, not playing with a full deck… Had a few bats in the belfry. I know I’m the one with a plate in my head, but she was definitely the one with a screw loose. I couldn’t help myself. It was just too entertaining. Here I was, getting awesome sloppy sex on the reg, and I got to witness a new soap opera every day.

1st child – When she was 18 she had an adulterous affair with a married man. This man impregnated her and told her to take a hike. So she did. Now she was stuck with a newborn with epilepsy and mild retardation. An unfortunate side effect of squeezing the child through much too small hips. She figured she needed a husband, so she married some guy as soon as she could. Well that marriage ended in annulment when she came home early from work to find her homoerotic best friend fucking her new husband in the ass. Classic. I find it rather hypocritical, to say the least because she used to tell me stories from when her mom had her committed to the mental institution; of being a regular little pussy muncher. Homosex for me, but not for thee. She told me that women never counted for her notch count. For what its worth though, that girl is only mildly slow and dose’t have a mean bone in her entire body. Just a real good kid.

2nd child – Give it a couple of years and she got back to hanging around her old high school boyfriend. You know, the guy she was fucking while her dutiful beta orbiter bought her all sorts of shit and pledged his undying love for her. This guy was a chronic weed smoker and local drug dealer. Whoops-a-daisy pregnant again. I guess they disappeared for a couple months and drove to Oklahoma… or some weird place, and didn’t tell anyone where they were or what they were doing. She would routinely mention some possession she used to have and then say that Rick stole it once upon a time. That poor ole commemorative stamp collection. Rick needed a new bag of weed! This kid is definitely the smartest, and definitely the most bratty. She is already learning a bunch of manipulative bullshit from her mother. But truth be told, she was my favorite. A goofy personality and sharp wit. I could tell that she was going to grow up to be an 8 or a 9. Shame that she will probably ruin her life with her own powerful sexuality, just like her mom.

3rd child – After roaming the sexual wilderness for a few more years she finally met a man dumb enough to marry her and adopt her two girls. She managed to swallow her blatant misandry long enough to get this narcissistic alcoholic under her sirens sway. He was a ranch hand for the coke brothers. She finally got what she wanted. To be a house wife. From what I can piece together, he figured out early on that he never wanted to be around her and would spend all his free time out doors. If he could manage it, he would fuck other women. I guess the real reason he adopted the two girls was because his first wife had aborted two of his daughters that he sired. I know… True insanity. Can’t make this stuff up. I can tell he was a pretty sharp dude though because his son was intelligent. He had an innate knowledge of engineering he told me all about electricity and how it worked without using any of the proper words. Like he had just figured it out by grace.

4th child – The hate filled marriage dragged on for 10 years. Catherine became a devout Churchian; collecting many plaques. She would focus on all the parts of christianity that would absolve her of responsibility and you know, magically give her shit. Her husband would spend all his time working and fucking other women just to avoid her. I can see why, because once a relationship with her has gotten a little stale every word out of her mouth is just an invitation to beat the daylights out of her. I never quite got that upset because I really viewed her as a sideshow amusement. Well one day she decides to take control of her shitty life and rents an RV to go camping for the weekend. Boom. Another girl. At least it was by the same guy this time. He made sure with a paternity test. The two year old would cling to me. I would swing her around. I would do curls with her. I would jump on the trampoline with her. I taught her how to open lids and how to say the word “No”. She cried sometimes, but usually she was a radiant ball of laugher and happiness. A blonde joy that nobody could help but to love… When I looked down into her smiling, brown eyes all I could see was…

Some guys daughter.


The Bastard Spawn Chronicles: Chapter 3 Sex From The Spigot

I remember bending her over at the base of the stairs. My cock would bottom out on her pussy and slam against something hard in this position. Naturally as I was pounding her she would scream and yell incoherently. As I was whooping her ham-ass into a fiery red blister, I remember wishing she would shut the fuck up. It was at that moment that I saw an entire box of fresh apples. Why the hell anyone would need that many apples is completely beyond me, but I took advantage of the situation. pulling her hair back, I grabbed an apple and shoved it into her mouth.



*Slam Slam Slam*

“Who’s my little fuck pig?”


That doesn’t even begin to describe the submissiveness of my little pet. How did she want it? Harder. As hard as I could manage to give it to her. I would strap down her wrists and ankles, blindfold her, and make her count to 20 as I lashed her over every inch of her body. She never knew where or when the next blow was gonna strike. I guess thats the advantage of being a BDSM porn addicted pervert. I know all the nasty kinky shit all skanks secretly want.

I would put both thumbs in her cheeks to fishhook her, holding her face down, then spit in her eyes.

My favorite position was her ankles by my ears. She was tiny so my hand would wrap all the way around her bicep; giving her dark bruises that her co-workers would always question her about.

When she was tied, blindfolded, and gagged, I would go make myself food and check my email.

Once I jammed it right in her butt with nothing for lube but a loogie. She said no. It didn’t do her any good.

When I ordered her that I wanted pigtails she was always accommodating.

But like I said before, she’s a squirter. All the dominance could be exhausting. Sometimes in the morning I would just let her ride until she exploded all over my ballsack. Girl cum. With the color and consistency of coconut milk, and the smell of… Jizz.

That was the best.

The Bastard Spawn Chronicles: Chapter 2 Nightmares

I suffer from night terrors. At least, I used to. They started around the tail end of 2012 and kept up with me until a few months ago. I remember looking up the term “night terrors” on the interwebz and found the defining characteristic between a night terror and and regular nightmare; is that a night terror is so distressful, that it will waken you in the middle of the night. This startled sweaty awakening would happen at least twice a week. But that didn’t mean that the other nights were peaceful.

What sorts of monstrosities plagued me? Locust devouring the entire world. Centipedes and cockroaches crawling in toilets filled to the brim with diarrhea. Hot chicks, who I was violently fucking, morphing udders and the pot bellies of pregnant cattle. Trumped up charges at traffic stops leading the gestapo to imprision me; the cold bars slamming shut on my cell. Having sex with my own sister for christs’ sake.

Where were these horrors coming from? Am I really that sick?

Naturally I learned many advanced (Im assuming) lucidity techniques. I had to. Flying, voluntary scene change, violent retaliation against my assailants, restarting over and over until I reached a different result. As I got better at being asleep, I realized that I could start having snippets of discussion with my assailants. As I started to think of my nemeses as separate from my own consciousness I was more able to effectively block him/it. I learned a few good tricks. Looking at any sort of reflective surface to check my face would always reveal the dream state as an illusion. I could never see my face in a dream. The reflection went right through me, or another cheap trick, showed the back of my head instead of the face. If I ever had the sense to demand the name of my assailant the dream would always end.

One night after waking again, sweat pouring off me, I said “You disgust me.”

I never expected to hear back…

“Nothing disgusts you!”

Was it in my mind? Did something say that out loud? Am I really schizophrenic!? I decided to do what any person would who likes to fancy themselves sane. I ignored it.

I was going to take the new puppy for a walk for the first time. Its good to train the cow dogs to stick with you. Otherwise they will just run all over tarnation and won’t get anything done. I had no vehicle so instead of a real collar, I just cut down an old belt and put it around his neck. Then I used two lengths of baling twine and tied them together. I set the twine and belt down to take a piss. When I came back and picked up the makeshift leash and collar the twine was cut. Severed. Like someone had taken and knife to it. According to practical physics, that is not possible. Something was whole. Then it was not. I wasn’t just mistaken or imagining things. I was actually grateful that it happened. See I had suspected for a while, but now I knew for certain.

Something was following me…

The Bastard Spawn Chronicles: Chapter 1 “Don’t put your hand on the burner, kid”

Now, before I get into this epic, I feel its my obligation to warn the larger manosphere that this story contains many supernatural phenomenon. Please bear in mind that I don’t expect you to change your belief structure simply because of the events Ive experienced in my life. If it helps, I recommend that you treat this tale as a fiction novel. That being said, as always, this story is 100% true.

Lets start at the beginning. #NoNothingNovember. Remember that fat chick I fucked? She lost weight. I saw her a month later and she was down 15 pounds. Keep in mind that I was essentially under house arrest whenever my roommate or family wouldn’t bring me into town. I had to stay home. Luckily I had taken her number immediately before I took her to bed. So when I saw the the fat was melting off of her like… butter in a microwave, I was under the sway of my sex drive when I messaged her.

“come over and we’ll kick it”

“oh, so you just don’t talk to me for a month and then expect me to come over?”

“the way i see it, you didn’t talk to me for a month.”

“oh, I guess you’re right”

Wow… This was gonna be too easy. I busted my load on her tits and had her leave for another 2 weeks, but not before giving her a bottle of green tea supplement pills. I had her come over again and she was down another 5-10 pounds. She was starting to look alright. I have to say, if it wasn’t for giving up all masturbation I never would have given this chick a chance. What started as a 4 lost 30 pounds and turned into a six with a cute face. She started dressing better and well, I guess you could call her a 6.5 or a 7 by the time I fell for the dumb broad. Like I said, it was just too easy. She would come over, get ravaged, and then leave. I got kinkier and kinkier. I tried to stick it in her butt. She had a weird hangup about that for some reason, so I left the issue alone. I was awarded my drivers license back. November ended and I went back to jerkin off… That is until I realized how ultimately hollow it was. Why would I blow a load in my hand when I can have this girl come over any night of the week and take it any which way I could think of? I think if you give it a chance, a real prolonged chance, sex between a man and a woman will bind them to each other. In what way? All sorts of ways.

I started taking her on my journeys. I can fly across this state pretty easily. From a central location, its never more than 2 hours to any one place. Bozeman, Helena, Billings, Dillon… But not Great Falls. Cause I hate Great Falls. After loading up on 4 grams of phenibut, I would keep my foot on the accelerator and the tunes going and she would talk. Just kinda jabber; you know how girls do. I really don’t mind when they are talking about nice things. Its sort of like a background noise that you can just pipe up whenever you feel like it. The rest of the the time you can just go “mmhm” or “yeah…” and its all the same to them. After we got wherever I was going I would always want some high quality cuisine. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but the idea of “going dutch” is a bunch of new age hogwash. If a chick is rollin with me, Im paying for the fucking meal. No exceptions. We ate at Ted Turners steak house. We ate a sushi places. She had never had sushi, but loved it. (They fly the fish in from Alaska every other morning.) It was on the drive back that we sort of admitted that neither of us gave a shit about our 5 year age difference in her favor. A sort of “I really like you moment” All the advice from the ‘sphere says to not date a single mom. Thats probably exactly why I was doing it. Just to see for myself. I was one of those kids you could never simply tell that the burner was hot… I had to see it for myself.

One afternoon we drove to a sex shop, and on recommendation per the ‘sphere I bought some tie-down straps (Thats right, the 50 Shades of Grey brand it even came with a blindfold.) I also bought a cat-o-nines. Although I have a feeling the one I bought was toned down a bit from the kind the romans used to use. She bought some lubricant and some other fancy little girly toys. She had to work in half an hour, so we rushed inside my house and had first time butt-sex. I really just did it to… you know… have done it. It was alright but what really turned me on was the way she was yelling at the top of her lungs in pleasure/pain. The screaming was what made me cum, not the fact that it was her poopschute.

That next morning I dreamed. Or maybe it was a vision. The walls were of wooden paneling. Nothing special, just wooden paneling. I was pulling my bloody, shit covered cock out of some poor lass. She was looking back at me in trembling silence, with tears streaming down her face… I looked at my cock and thought to myself how disgusting it was…

One night on a long trip back from Billings I was lamenting how drunk I used to get. I told her about the vision/memory and how I couldn’t remember who this girl was or why I had stuck it in her ass instead of her pussy when I obviously didn’t have any lube. I described the wooden paneling in the background. It was then that she told me about her brother.

“When I was a little girl they didn’t know I was developing type 1 diabetes. I would slip into comas for hours and nobody could wake me up. I would wake up and my pants and panties would all be cut… It got to the point that I had to go to my mom and tell her I needed new panties. She tried to shut me up and told me to stop vandalizing my clothes. Finally my dad got involved and kicked my brother out of the house. My mom still blames me for tearing our family apart. Grody, that was’t your memory… Its mine…”

Stay tuned. It gets weirder.

Das Boot

“You don’t have to say anything… I already know.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, when you don’t call or text…”

“You know I love you right?”

I went in for one last hug, but she declined. We both agreed that we had some serious fun and left it at that. After she left I almost felt like crying. So far… nothing. My mind has been made up for at least a week. I guess thats the advantage of having your heart so totally shattered previously that it can never quite be put back together the same way. Nothing compares to that initial heartbreak in terms of severity.

Ive always been the dumpee rather than the dumper. Honestly, Im sitting here wishing I could feel more, but I guess thats the price you pay for studying seduction. I have a feeling the blues will strike sometime next week when I least expect it.

I plan to write in detail about the experience, but I need some time to distance myself from the whole thing. Most of the field reports on my blog were written some time after the fact. I think it helps me be objective about the whole thing. I put my soul into pickup, I don’t think pre packaged routines and online spamming are superior to that.

Alright gentlemen, Get out there and break some hearts.

… I guess.