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.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s