Don’t take that to heart, dummies; never let anyone pressure you into thinking you can’t be cute just because you’re an idiot. I’ve known a number of sweet little simpletons, and they deserve to be slapped around and choke-fucked just as hard as girls who know how to do long division.
Dear Minors
Use your common sense, ladies. You know you shouldn’t be following me.
You’re adorable, I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I hope you find an age-appropriate writer to follow who will lead you through an age-appropriate exploration of your sexuality. I wish you nothing but the best.
But I’m writing stuff here that’s just not for you, not yet. You’re still making the decisions that will determine what You 1.0 is going to be, and you don’t need my brand of mindfuckery gumming up the works.
Also, I’ve got no interest in meeting Chris Hansen, so… there’s that.
Run along now, kids. Go save the world or something.
Feedback Loops
I’m a horrid procrastinator because I’m an egregiously obsessive perfectionist with a firm grasp on reality. I frequently refuse to reply to messages, not because I don’t want to talk, but because I don’t want to spend an hour precisely articulating a response.
Interestingly, I also happen to…
Why are you so freaking adorable, mister?
It’s a ruse to lure little girls to their doom.
Seriously. His sadistic intelligence is just too good to resist!
- I am not adorable. I am the pure Platonic form of tumescent, rapacious masculinity, somehow squeezed by The Elder Gods through a hole in time and space into the form of one humble, human male. So there.
- Doom? I don’t know about Doom, exactly. I prefer to lure little girls to their Call of Duty.
- “Seriously. His sadistic intelligence is just too good to resist.” sounds like the summary of a 5-star Amazon review. I approve.
I want you to make me feel good please
I can’t promise “good”.
But I can definitely manage “different”.
“Different” is my speciality.
You could be the most physically repulsive man on earth and I’d probably still beg you to fuck me silly
And even if —especially if— you were the prettiest little sex toy to ever spread two legs, I’d still tell you “no,” just to watch the look on your face.
I’d probably end up fucking you anyway —because erection— but almost as an afterthought. The real pleasure would be in that moment when your expression tells me you’ve finally realized the repulsive, awful man looming over you thinks he’s too good for you.
And you know he’s right.
Collaboration is key in any team-building exercise.
how do you feel about the ‘daddy’ thing ?
My daddy thing mostly just hangs there, until someone does something perverted.
O that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
– Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 2
Feedback Loops
I’m a horrid procrastinator because I’m an egregiously obsessive perfectionist with a firm grasp on reality. I frequently refuse to reply to messages, not because I don’t want to talk, but because I don’t want to spend an hour precisely articulating a response.
Interestingly, I also happen to think it’s kind of hot when girls get huffy at being ignored… y’know, stomping their widdle feet and fweatening to take dere toys and go home! I find indignant cunts so fuckin’ precious… it’s like watching a puppy bark at a mirror, only the puppy is a chick, and I’m going to fuck her when she reaches Peak Pout.
So my character flaw frequently leads to amusement and erections. You can see, I’m sure, how this can become complicated.
Your blog inspired me to masturbate to memories of my rape. I’m that girl in your story. Fucking my fingers to the memory of him forcing himself on me. I came while sobbing for mercy. Thank you.
Good girl. Take that shit and own it; life gave you a weight to bear, and if you’re fortunate enough to wrench a little respite from your body now and then, hey… carpe-fucking-clitoris, baby.
And don’t forget to come back the next time you need inspiration.