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September 21 - September 22, 2025
In memory of my Satisfyer Pro2 Rechargable Clitoral Stimulator. I should have recognized the signs of burn out. I should have stopped when you made that weird, terrifying zapping sound. It was either you or me at that point, and I’m ashamed to say I chose myself. You died with a hell of a bang. R.I.P.
Survival tip #136 Loneliness won’t kill you. Violent men with guns? They might.
Survival tip #20 You have to be the worst version of yourself to survive. Kill the weak. Strike from the shadows. Run from a fight. Leave your friends behind.
“I owe you more than my life, babe,” she whispers back. “So much more.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Eden,” Madison says, wry and darkly amused. And it should be impossible, but I choke out a laugh. “And you, Madison,” I reply in the same droll tone. “It’s been a scream.”
“You swing that thing like you’re gunning for a home run, okay?” she instructs. “I hope you’re good at sports.” Oh, God. We’re dead.
Survival tip #21 Kill every fucker who threatens what’s yours.
Mom screamed and shattered and shat on every single thing we owned, not once did I ever feel fear like this.
Literally shat on??
Awe fuck. I hate this troupe he better choose Eden.
“Going steady? Well, gosh, Beau, I do think he’s peachy keen, but we haven’t gone out for milkshakes or anything.”
“Use the comb! You don’t use the brush on wet hair. The wide-toothed comb!” Lucien insists, still wincing. He makes a grabbing motion for the sherry, then grumbles, “Honestly. It’s like you want me to have split ends.” “Oh,” I croon, “I’m sorry, sugar pie. You havin’ a hard time gettin’ pampered?”
“Oh, Greg? You bottomed for Greg?” “Greg! That’s it. Hairy shoulders.”
“Anyway, the point I’m making, and it’s an impotent point—” I bend over his hair, cackling.
“Impotent. Important, damn it. It’s an im...
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“The best place to protect me is from inside me.” Lucky blinks. “Beside me. I meant— Stop laughing. This is a serious conversation!”
I’m dying
Survival tip #135 Appreciate the little things. Company. Safety. Beautiful, panty-soaking men.
“We’re pals.” His golden eyes flare like a lashing tail. “Aren’t we, buddy?”
“I have a spare, hidden room in my quarters. I will reside there, and you may take the master suite. We will only need to see one another on entry and exit, so do try to remain clothed. I suffer nightmares enough without the additional fuel.”
He comes back out of his room a minute later with his favorite pillow under his arm, the one that’s sucked in enough of his night-drool that it can probably be used for DNA tests two hundred years from now.
“Heavy, that. I’ve been known as quite the romantic, though. Great at giving advice. All you really need to get someone to fall in love with you is one starry night, a tarp, three eggs, a violinist, and a lot of lube—works every time.”
“You sound like you’ve had a rough day, so I won’t call you a brainless moron for letting them escape.”
“Your hair is a mess and your breath smells like something died in your throat. Happy now?” I stare at him. “Why would you say that?” I keen, as a raw, hacking sob shakes my whole body. Beau straightens off the door, looking nothing short of panicked. “No—no, no, no. I was just doing what you said!” “I said be mean, not cruel.”
“What is wrong with you?” I scold, as I inspect the damage. Jesus. Has he always had such gigantic beaver teeth? I glare at him. “Don’t you want her to be happy? You’ll just eat all of it? Just gobble all
of her joy away, bite by bite.
“We can’t change the things that happen to us—only change what they help us to become.”
Now, hi there, Jasper, I would really like to stretch my girlfriend’s ass out as far as I can. Be a doll and help me out?
