Category: Stories & Captions

A collection of stories, photo captions, and shoddy poetry

My wife’s daughter doesn’t like deceiving her mom, nor does she like being humiliated and mauled every night at 1:00am. But she likes her sickly mother having insurance, and she loves having her college tuition covered. So she sets her teeth and bears it.

Earlier this year, we learned that she was also bearing her own step-sister. The ride back from Planned Parenthood was strangely silent, but that night, she fucked back like she never had before. After I finished, I asked her what had changed.

“I’m ruined,” she replied as she stared out the window. “Nothing matters anymore.”

They were the most romantic words I’d ever heard.

Bad Timing

[CONTENT NOTE: Here be dragons.]

You’re confused, baby… I can tell. So just hush while I clear things up for you, okay? Good.

I’m sure you see my hard cock and you probably wonder, “Does my Daddy want to make love to me?” Um, hardly. Now that I finally get a look at you, I suppose your body is usable, but that’s the extent of it; there’s nothing behind your eyes that I value. In fact, I find your sad little whore thoughts and your bad little whore dreams kind of tedious, almost as stupid and boring as your slut of a mother. I cut her out of my life years ago, like a fat, drunken little tumor, but for some reason, I’ve held on to you. My “lovely” little girl.

It’s simply that you were mine, I guess; a thing I made with my cock and my quiet rage. To the rest of the world —and especially your bitch stepmothers— you were just a mewling simpleton, best abandoned and forgotten. But to me, you were the bag where I kept my hate; I pumped all of it into your cow of a mother, and nine months later, she shat it back out. You were a part of me, I decided… a part I might need again someday.

And now, here we are.

I lost my job this morning, pumpkin. The job that kept a roof over our heads all these years, that paid for the college your lazy ass dropped out of, that dressed you in the flimsy, slutty rags you call clothes. The job that made my life mean something, that made all the rest of this shit endurable. It’s gone.

If you weren’t a selfish, shallow little twat, you would probably have realized that this was therefore the wrong fucking day for me to come home and find you calling in sick to work, smoking my weed, and sucking off Dave, our next door neighbor. He’s old enough to be me, y’know? Something just had to give, and that something happens to be you. Well, you and Dave’s nose… he’s not going to look so pretty to the neighborhood girls from now on, is he?

Heh.

So here’s the deal: in a minute, I’m going to take my hand off your mouth and wrap it around your neck. You’re going to want to scream, but if you do, I’ll squeeze until your eyes roll back in your head. Either way, I’m then going to force my cock down your throat and keep it there until I feel like taking it out. You’re not going to like it, but it’s going to happen. It’s going to happen a lot, actually.

Today, I’m taking back what’s mine.

Auditing

And now today’s freshman orientation tour brings us yet another fortunate opportunity to observe real work being done here in our research labs.

Let’s observe as the lepidopterist dons his gloves and examines this lovely moth. As you can see, he’s probing the creature’s reproductive system, while restricting its movements for its own safety. One little known fact about moths is tha—

Hm? You in the back, with the hair… what was the question?

Oh, of course. Yes, he’s using his penis because, well, why not use it? We here in the Biology department are all conservationists at heart, but it’s important to remember that no matter how passionate we are in our study and appreciation of these fascinating insects, a bug is still just a bug. They breed quickly and live short, hectic lives; as individual specimens, they’re of limited value.

Now, if you’ll all follow me this way, I can show you some of the amazing work we’re doing with centipedes…

O woman, o woman, I know what you’ve become.

I have seen what you will suffer, accept, and even consecrate, and I have beheld the obscenities you will bequeath to your daughters in the name of your sons. I have watched you gaze into the eye of fevered, frenzied hate and pluck from it the mote of love you need to live. I know you of old, daughter of man; your faces change, but your story never does.

O woman, o woman, I fear you’ve been undone.

When your daddy first held you in his arms, he looked at you and was saddened to see you were a girl. Twelve years later, mommy looked at your sheets and was disheartened to see that you were now a woman. Six years after that, a man whose name you never asked, at a party you barely remember, lifted your skirt and decided to make you a victim.

The emptiness between your thighs has brought you nothing but loss, as it always will. All it is capable of birthing is tragedy and shame.

But if you’ll spread your legs for me like a good girl, I promise, I can make that cunt suffer for all it has cost you.