tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376791326510404472024-03-05T16:48:05.982-08:00Frosty The BlaxicanThe truth- exactly as it happened.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-55386123227314086932015-09-01T18:21:00.001-07:002015-09-01T18:21:23.985-07:00Fit momma in the making. Hello nobody, I want to talk to you again. I'm trying to do a lifestyle change here. I've been eating healthier, and exercising five days a week, with two rest days. I've been looking up healthy recipes to make for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and even snacks!<br />
<br />
I am trying to stay on this, and though many people call it a "diet", I always correct them and say it's a lifestyle change, it's hard sometimes. Especially since I have been sick twice within a month, the first time it was Bronchitis, and now it feels the same so I'm trying to stop it before it gets worse. No luck so far. But I want to do this not only so I can feel better about my body and how I look, but to be a good role model for my little baby.<br />
<br />
It would also be nice if I had someone to help with this, but I won't and can't push anyone but myself to get healthy.<br />
<br />
Currently I weigh 183.4 pounds, which is 33.4 pounds MORE than what I weighed before I became pregnant. I know it will take time for me to get back there, but honestly, the scale doesn't bother me all that much. It's not the number, but how I perceive how I look. To me, it ain't all that pretty. But since I have started making healthier choices, I have noticed some changes in how I look.<br />
<br />
Squats make the booty come about, and weight training is awesome for the entire body. I know the hardest part of my body I will have to change is my stomach, because much of the fat resides there. If I feel confident enough, I will post some pictures.<br />
<br />
But one thing that does make me feel good is something that happened the other day. I came home from work one day last week and as I walk into the house my little one immediately points to and pulls me over to my weights and exercise equipment and grunts, he can't speak a lot yet. He was telling me it was time to work out now that I was off work! I thought it was so cute that he has noticed what I have been doing.<br />
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I will not quit.<br />
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<br />
PS, my snapchat name is Zindervault,Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-17094656444920877352015-06-26T19:16:00.001-07:002015-06-26T19:16:24.664-07:00Just some thoughts about sexSo, I've been thinking lately, and I have noticed I am really horny more than I let on to my SO. I do this because he is almost always tired, so I don't want to bother him with it.<br />
And I've noticed my mind starts to wander into fantasy mode a lot more when I am in need of the D.<br />
And as I was daydreaming, I started thinking about who I am sexually attracted to (and why) vs. who I am attracted to in terms of love and relationships.<br />
<br />
Here is what I came up with:<br />
<br />
LUST vs LOVE<br />
<br />
-Tall men -Personality focused<br />
-Any skin tone (recent) -Light skin tone<br />
-Lots of hair -No hair preference<br />
-Tatoos -No height preference<br />
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And the list might go on.<br />
But I'll edit that in later.<br />
So I was wondering and thinking back to my exes, why there can be such a difference.<br />
Probably when I am horny all I think about is the body parts, but when I fantasize about other men, and yes I do, men do it too- it's called porn, I always fantasize about much taller guys among other traits. It's probably normal, but I feel like if I were wildly attracted to those men I would end up dating them. But that's only happened once, and it was the guy I lost my virginity to. Hmm... maybe that's why I fantasize about those type of guys. He was 6'1" or 6'2" at the time, he has grown since, had long hair, but no tatoos.<br />
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Oh hey, I learned something new about myself.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-29398296412128817792015-06-22T20:45:00.001-07:002015-06-22T20:45:17.427-07:00Reconstructed outlook?Don't you just love these spells where I don't post anything at all for a long time, and then all of a sudden come up here with a long list of updates and shit? Well here is another one.<br />
<br />
- My son turns one years old soon, yay us.<br />
- I am living with my boyfriend at the moment, we are doing well at the moment.<br />
- I recently fixed my laptop, which is why I am updating this bloggy.<br />
- I still have no friends, but I am closer to my family that what I used to be.<br />
- I'm making more money at my job now, it helps.<br />
- I plan on writing more of my unfinished story. I might actually go back through it and change some things, it could be so much better.<br />
- I have come to realization that I may be a Nymphomaniac.<br />
- Aaand..... I have snapchat. So, add me. (This sentence has nothing to do with the previous one, by the way. So irrelevant.)<br />
<br />
I don't know, I feel like a whole lot hasn't happened since I last posted.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i deleted what i was originally going to say because i felt like i was complaining too much. so, there's that.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-16560435503296761802015-03-12T22:49:00.001-07:002015-03-12T22:49:02.837-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQco0CausldK1gdGAfVzI9106BgT4Soem5rhQFqPikV81XJNjiVb_mvJHjmpWKC18JRWwKr9m-QAmbCgjbPn9koRZ6G98an_AF7rwVX0Vh0iPvSWnrSS90Yk5_vEBpQe4dGAsFNK79YMK/s1600/20150311_153446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQco0CausldK1gdGAfVzI9106BgT4Soem5rhQFqPikV81XJNjiVb_mvJHjmpWKC18JRWwKr9m-QAmbCgjbPn9koRZ6G98an_AF7rwVX0Vh0iPvSWnrSS90Yk5_vEBpQe4dGAsFNK79YMK/s640/20150311_153446.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-84363190642058894872015-01-20T21:00:00.003-08:002015-01-20T21:00:49.370-08:00Ode to life itself My life may not be where I pictured it to be right now, but damn, it is great! I could not ask for a better family, a better support group, or a better time. Many people have come and gone, but the true ones are still here with me. We walk together in spirit. We laugh, we cry, but most importantly we live. We live to make the most of today and for a better tomorrow. We have made a commitment to the Earth and to our souls- to care for ourselves and those around us. I may not have many friends, but quality is better than quantity. I have new family members, big and small. New friends with which I share many experiences. Life. Is. Good.<br />
<br />
And to those who can't dig it, SUCK IT!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-78839360296110446122014-09-10T10:47:00.002-07:002014-09-10T10:47:55.167-07:00Understanding life, one tear at a time. I am beginning to understand why most unmarried couples do not stay together after having a child. It seems like ever since our son, Luke, was born, my SO has changed. He just doesn't seem into the relationship as much anymore. All throughout my pregnancy he had been telling me how beautiful and wonderful I was, all 200 pounds of me. He was cleaning and doing things for me, massaging me. But once Luke popped out, it all stopped. Since then I have had to ask the guy to clean up after himself, to help clean the house, even for compliments! How can you tell me I'm pretty when I'm almost 200 pounds but now that I'm 160+20 you don't even think to say anything to me? Maybe it was because I was self conscious about my body and he was trying to make me feel better, but now that I don't have the excuse of being pregnant, I am more self conscious than ever.<br />
I don't want to come off as needy or nagging, but a little compliment here and there never hurt anybody. He has started doing things now that I asked, but it still bothers me that I had to ask in the first place. He is almost 30 years old, I shouldn't have to remind him to clean up after himself. Maybe he has gotten used to the idea of me doing most of it, but in my mind I would think that one would still remove their messes, he is still capable of doing so. He does help out with Luke, that the universe, but it seems like everything else was all on me.<br />
Noy to mention sex. As anyone with children know, having time for sex is a pretty hard thing to come by. And yeah, I get that he works every night and has class 2 days out of the week, so he is tired a lot (I work too). With our schedules and timing, we rarely have sex anymore. That isn't the real issue. A couple of nights ago we were having a conversation about sex, what we like and what we don't, what turns us on and off. I made a comment about him not being into the things that I am into, which is a lot more than what he is into- and sometimes it makes me wonder why we hooked up in the first place. I said something along the lines of him not being into most of what I am into and it makes me sad. He stopped talking to me after that point because he thought I was saying that sex with him is boring and it hurt his ego and pride. I didn't mean it that way necessarily, and I don't want to say that sex with him is boring, but just that I wish he were into some of the things I was into- it would spice things up. Sex with him isn't quite boring (I still get mine), but it is starting to become predictable.<br />
With what little time we have for sex we could try something different! This is how it normally goes- he gets turned on, I get halfway turned on, he penetrates in the missionary position, we go at it for a bit, I get a few O's and he may or may not get his before Luke wakes up. We hardly change positions. I even have a nice collection of toys that he could use on me- which when I asked why he doesn't he said, "they're always in the drawer." You mean to tell me you can't take two-three steps over, grab one or five, and come back? Is it that hard? What makes matters worse is that without telling me he was mad at me, he slept all day yesterday (without saying two words to his son because I was around) and wasn't going to try to fix the sex situation. He said "it is what it is." NO! That is not how you continue a lifelong relationship. If that's even what he wants anymore.<br />
I have even come to him several times talking about how we need to communicate more effectively with each other. But I feel like I am the only one putting forth all the effort. I don't know if I did something wrong to him, if he is just acting this way because of sleep deprivation, or if he just doesn't love me anymore. Am I asking for too much?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-78189258394983901392014-08-18T08:48:00.001-07:002014-08-18T08:48:49.342-07:00Early teething signs? My son is only 7 weeks old and seems to already be showing signs of teething, such as drooling, unusual fussiness, and most of all gnawing on things like his fingers, our fingers, and anything that can get near his mouth. We weren't sure what it was at first, but after looking up his symptoms on several different websites, I feel that this is the conclusion. It was between teething and a tummy ache. He has also been burping excessively, hours after every meal. The only thing with that though was he only became fussy during the day, but would sleep great throughout the night, with only two or three feedings needed. During the day he would fall asleep in our arms only to wake up the instant you set him down. From there on he would cry and fuss for no apparent reason until he tired himself out and fell asleep again. I ruled out a tummy ache because I feel that if that were the case it would go on through out the night as well, but lucky for me it doesn't. He has his 2 month well-baby appointment soon, so if it keeps up then we will ask the pediatrician.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-75655490710665342812014-08-09T21:16:00.001-07:002014-08-09T21:16:22.704-07:00Dealing with my new life. Well, having a child doesn't feel so bad after the overwhelming feelings are aside now. I think it helps that he is what you would call a "good baby". He doesn't cry unless he needs something, which is always simple, and when he is awake he is normally alert and happy. Although he still doesn't really like diaper changes or bath time. He is almost six weeks old and is going through his third growth spurt. He will eat every two hours and tends to fight sleep. But this shall pass in a few days.<br />
<br />
In the first few weeks, I felt like I got upset easily, but not with the baby, with my boyfriend. He would say things or do things that I feel like I wouldn't normally get so upset over, but with my hormone levels trying to balance themselves out, I felt angry at him often. It's not so bad now, but he can still get on my nerves a tad easier than usual. But we are working things out as best as we can, which I think we are doing well.<br />
<br />
Earlier today I was on Reddit, and I happened to stumble upon a self article about what women liked to hear when their SO saw/sees them naked. And as I read the comments, I realized that my SO doesn't really compliment me on my physique anymore. I started to cry. Having a child can do some horrible things to your body, so it hit kinda hard. Not only do I have stretch marks, but I also weigh about 20 pounds more than I was before I found out I was pregnant- which was at five months. Notice I said before I found out, not before I became pregnant. Once I found out I was with child, I ate way more than I should have because I felt guilty about not knowing, (there were no symptoms), and not taking care of my body. So consequently, I gained 41 pounds total in the 41 weeks I was pregnant. Normal pregnancy weight gain is about 20-30 pounds. I can't fit any of my "pre-knowlege-pregnancy" clothes.<br />
<br />
I went from a size 9 to a size 12/13. I only lost about 20 pounds after giving birth. Also my breasts are much bigger- I went from a size 38DD to a 42DDD. My breasts are full of milk since I am nursing my son. SO needless to say, I don't feel the prettiest right now. It doesn't help that my SO says my breasts are too big for him. "What am I supposed to do with them?", he asks me. He is also an ass man, which I lack. It's not that it's flat, but he calls it a "cute little ass." SO much for making me feel sexy. Thing is, when I was still pregnant, he always heard me complain about my growing body and would tell me that I still looked sexy, but now that I am no longer pregnant, when I complain all he says is that soon I can start going back to the gym. I don't think he means anything wrong by it, but how come he does't tell me that I am still pretty or sexy or anything like that? Does he not think it to be true? Was I only sexy when I was pregnant because I was carrying his child, and also because my hormones were out of control? ( I cried a lot for no real reason.)<br />
<br />
I really do want to go back to the gym and get close to my old body back, my breasts won't go back until I stop breastfeeding. I would just like to hear him say something nice about my body sometimes. He knows I don't like it, but telling me to go back to the gym doesn't make anything better either.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-35546489802031219532014-07-20T20:11:00.002-07:002014-07-20T20:11:43.971-07:00Luke D. RatliffI had been in easy labor from 8 a.m. on June 29th until 3 p.m. on June 30th. I was admitted to the hospital at 3 p.m. on June 30th because my water level was low. Around 9:30 p.m. that night I was induced. They started me on Pitocin. A couple of hours later I was given Stadol, a pain killer to take the edge off. Not only did it do it's job but it also put me to sleep, making my labor way much easier and quicker. Luke was born shortly after at 3:56 a.m. on July 1st. He weighed in at 7 pounds and 9 ounces and was 21 inches long. He was the most adorable baby I had ever seen. I could not believe that I had just birthed a baby. Even when I think back to it now it feels surreal. But I wouldn't give him up for anything in the world. He is my beautiful, healthy baby boy. <3Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-80183298572742494782014-03-08T18:37:00.003-08:002014-03-08T18:51:50.082-08:00Exciting News!<div style="text-align: center;">
This is most definitely an unexpected change in my life, for I am a mother to be. I am having a boy come late June. I now question my career. Should I continue to work after my maternity leave is up or should I finally start on my true goal of becoming an artist, whether it be to write stories or create things? With being a mother I find it would be difficult to find the time to be able to work for a company and do what I want to do. I also do not wish to make my partner the only source of income for us. Times will be tough but I know we will be able to get through this as long as we work together. </div>
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World, be prepared to meet my little minion!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-87483647694531991292014-01-19T17:43:00.004-08:002014-01-19T17:43:50.877-08:00Preview of Chapter Eight<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chapter Eight<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">”<u>I need a doctor</u>”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As my eyes started to adjust, I could tell there was a table in front of
me.. and then another person in the room. They were bound to a chair too… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Who is
that? Is… is that me? Am I looking into a mirror? Am I finally dead?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Suddenly the door burst open and in came three men. One was scrawny and
short, one was a really tall, muscular guy, and the third looked rather
average. They each had a flashlight and shone them in my direction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“So that’s her, huh?” said the skinny fella.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yep. That’s the filthy skank. She looked better with her hair,
personally, but Boss said it would just get in the way” replied the tall guy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-7339163298158550382013-12-08T13:33:00.000-08:002013-12-08T13:33:52.501-08:00Chapter Seven- Come Back<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<i><u><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Come Back”<o:p></o:p></span></u></i></div>
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It had been three weeks since Rachel had fallen into her coma. Her
family and friends were worried, but her boyfriend Jake had become obsessed with
the situation and started having awful, wretched nightmares. He lost sleep over these, and with every night, they became worse, more gruesome. More detailed... What he didn’t know was that
his dreams were insights to what was going on in Rachel’s head. He watched her
die. He watched her being raped. He watched her as she began to lose herself
and what reality she had left.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Every day he would
visit her in the hospital and stay all day long. He talked to her as if she
were conscious to hear him. He hoped something he said would get through to her
and help her awake from this horrible slumber. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“I really wish you
would say something back to me. Valentine’s Day is in a few days. You’d really
like what I have planned for us, baby. I know you’ll love it! I would tell you
what it is but that would ruin the surprise…. I love you very much.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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With every passing
day Jake became more worried, more obsessed and more foolishly, hopelessly hopeful.
He forced himself to believe that he would be the one to bring her out of the
coma, so they could be a happy couple once again.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-46724939366439690732013-11-20T13:33:00.000-08:002013-11-20T13:33:09.774-08:00Chapter SevenAlso, Chapter Seven: "Come Back" is in the making. Stay with me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-25063813949913246682013-11-20T13:30:00.002-08:002013-11-20T13:30:47.555-08:00Carry On Times have changed and a lot of the people in my life have changed. I have a wonderful man in my life who loves me for who I am and takes me as a whole. I decapitated a dead kitten a few weeks ago. I also own a sheep's skull. Things have gotten weird, but I like it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-39019255451159809452013-09-22T18:51:00.001-07:002013-09-22T18:51:38.148-07:00<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQklD_ry-bsL5V8klbto4CUVxbK0HxB8ibI6pPu5BSqwTR0v49PWh7-ecKwDgvHes1Jrv1607wkQD8msy-SdpwZT20jfad_GSYf0SnHJ4Sl-LP94nNcjuzI9FnUWDh6I6IQQeJL05uZEYr/s1600/2013-09-22_21-43-35_583.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQklD_ry-bsL5V8klbto4CUVxbK0HxB8ibI6pPu5BSqwTR0v49PWh7-ecKwDgvHes1Jrv1607wkQD8msy-SdpwZT20jfad_GSYf0SnHJ4Sl-LP94nNcjuzI9FnUWDh6I6IQQeJL05uZEYr/s640/2013-09-22_21-43-35_583.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-29125448755272698902013-09-20T21:36:00.000-07:002014-03-08T18:53:52.334-08:00A Change of Pace Well, I haven't done a supa personal entry in some time. I don't even know if any of you even care to know what's been going on in my supa personal life, but I don't care 'cause its my blog! c:<br />
So, since it has been a year since my last ex, Daniel P., and I broke up. In between that time and about a week ago I had been concentrating on not being in a relationship, for several reasons. I wanted to work on myself since I realized I had gained some problematic tendencies, and I wasn't sure if I could deal with the stress that may come with it. Well, as of last week I have gotten myself into another relationship. But this time feels different, I feel like I have changed for the better and that I have come to a sort of peace within myself. Now I'm not saying I've completely changed everything, however I feel like I am on the right path. And on this path, I met Daniel Ratliff. I want us to journey together in this life, for as long as we can.<br />
It hasn't been more than about four months since we really started to get to know each other, but that's just fine.<br />
<br />
But with this change of pace, I still want to have and keep good, solid, healthy, relationships with my friends.<br />
<br />
On a side note to certain people: You will never be more than just a passerby if you won't be my friend first.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-87879310180268186132013-09-16T09:31:00.002-07:002013-09-16T09:31:54.875-07:00Chapter Six: Part Three. "Take Two- Things are not what they seem"<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chapter Six (Part Three)<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<i><u><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“TAKE TWO- THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM”<o:p></o:p></span></u></i></div>
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<i><u><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">(full chapter)</span></u></i></div>
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Most people had been here for as long as
they can remember. Others have been here longer than that; with no traces of
memories of their before life. They just roamed the streets like zombies. I made
sure that I would not become that way. After being trapped in this place for
over 6 months now I was dying to get out. And when I say dying, I mean
literally dying. I could feel my body grow weaker over the months. I could no
longer run as fast as I once could, I could no longer lift as much weight as
before… I NEEDED TO GET OUT IMMEDIATELY!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Being homeless and having to scavenge for food can get to your head too.
If I wanted to eat I had to make sure I could steal without getting caught. And
when I did get caught, all I had to do was open my legs to the police. After
they had their fill they would let me go, but of course not after a good
beating. Sometimes they would run a train on me. I hated those nights. It
always depended on what I stole and who I stole it from. One night, after not
eating for three days straight I decided I would steal some meat from a nearby
butcher shop. The butcher was an asshole to everybody anyway. I remember that
day like it was yesterday… going into his store while I thought it was busy
enough for him to not notice me. Oh boy was I wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I tried to steal two pounds of ground beef. I hadn’t eaten meat since I
had fallen into my coma. It made my mouth water, and my greed got the best of
me. I should’ve known that two pounds missing would be noticed, especially in
my bare hands. I looked around, seeing that the butcher was busy with other
customers, and being super hungry, I grabbed the packaged meat and ran for the
door. I had failed to see the two policemen inside the store, watching me the
whole time, waiting for me to make a move. They knew what I was doing all
along. When I reached for the door, they both grabbed me by my arms and held on
tight.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first policeman shoved me up against the glass door, my face and
entire body pushed up against the cold lettering that spelled “POHS REHCTUB
S’NAMDEIRF” backwards as I dropped the meat. The other cop pulled out his baton
and began beating my legs in front of everyone. He was relentless- showed no
mercy at all. In fact, I believe he enjoyed it way too much. It was most
definitely inhumane and evil, the most cruel and unusual punishment I had ever
received, even for this world. </div>
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He struck
my femurs and tibias with such force that I believe he could have killed a
horse if the same blow was to its head. The pain was searing through my entire
body. I cried out in immense pain…. I cried out at the top of my lungs. My legs
were broken for sure! After the first few hits I began to lose feeling… and
…oddly enough… [When I say oddly I mean ODD, like even for this story]… I kind
of... liked it.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I mean don’t get me wrong… it hurt like hell and I wished I could’ve
died at that point in time, but just being dominated by two men, two men with
authority at that, it kind of turned me on. I know that sounds weird, okay. You
know… you’re being beaten by two cops in front of a lot of innocent bystanders
for trying to steal meat, and okay, they broke your legs but (hey!), whatever
gets you off, right? But if I had thought it couldn’t get any worse, I would’ve
been wrong. Good thing I like surprises!<o:p></o:p></div>
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So like I was saying, I was getting turned on from them breaking my legs
and losing feeling, I may have also been in shock so I’m sure that contributed
to that… whole thing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I could feel my pussy getting hotter and wetter with each stroke. I
wanted to be fucked so bad right then and there!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, as the second cop threw me to the floor and held me down, the first
began to strip me naked, shirt and bra first and then pants and panties, and
proceeded to shove his baton into my anus… without lube. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, if you’ve never had anal sex before, this may come to you as a
shock and your eyes water up from the most excruciating pain you have ever felt
in your entire life. This pain was beyond imaginable. It was as if all of my
close friends and family surrounded me with huge butcher knives and took turns
stabbing the inside of my anus while mind fucking me at the same damn time-
only 10 times worse. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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You see, folks, normally when you, if you, decide to try anal sex and
you’re on the receiving end of it, you want to start out small and work your
way up to a bigger size. Por ejemplo, you could start out with a finger, the
pinkie if you are really sensitive. Then, you work your way up from the pinkie
to the thumb, then to a small toy, then the <b><u><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">GLORIOUS PENIS</span></u></b>,
then to the baton. And well, needless to say, I had not had anal sex in a long
time, so to say that it was a tight fit is most definitely an understatement!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve never been dominated like that before; it was a whole new
experience. Also since I was immortal in this world, I liked the fact that I
could take all of this pain, granted though it was still pain! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I screamed in agony as I started to concentrate on how much sexual,
physical pleasure I could gain from the baton being rammed into my ass. The cop
was relentless with it. He didn’t put it all of the way in, only halfway, which
to this day I am still grateful for.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In… out… in… out…<o:p></o:p></div>
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My pussy was so wet and ready to be abused just as my ass was, but it
never happened. At one point in time I almost asked the cop to put it there
instead, but I chose not to. <o:p></o:p></div>
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God. Awful. Pain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pleasure.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then something I definitely did not expect happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Get up, bitch!” said one of the cops. I was so entranced by the painful
pleasure that I didn’t catch on to what he was saying the first few times.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I said get off YOUR FUCKING ASS AND LOOK AT ME!!” I snapped out of my
trance and stared up at both of the cops. For a minute there I forgot where I was
and why I was there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Oh yeah… stealing meat…. Ungh…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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“ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?” Both cops yank me up off the ground. I had no
idea what was in store for me next.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I think you fucked her dumb with that baton!” said one of the cops as
he helped me stand. I was close enough to him that not only could I smell his
horrible cologne, but I could also read his badge. ‘Rhoades’ it read. Officer
Rhoades.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Look at me, you slut”, said the other cop. His badge read ‘Carusse’. I
was being beaten and raped by two officers named Rhoades and Carusse. I watched
Carusse as he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a needle already
filled with some kind of clear substance. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He drew back his arm as if he were
going to slap me with it. Just before he swung his arm he looked me dead in the
eye and said, “sweet dreams, my little cum bucket. I know you enjoyed being
anally raped, you sick psycho!” Then he stabbed my neck with the needle and
pressed hard to make sure all of the drug got into my bloodstream, and once
again, I was out.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-54167674719561041352013-09-03T13:15:00.003-07:002013-09-03T13:15:23.103-07:00No more dreads.<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKejoKkDClMqMzWMUXRBOT8FnykFmChMtpskOLPToieE7Wi9FtAg8IlOAgAzwB2k6JHAYf_QJoOyI3VTo9OT4R1WWg99NNB3tBtwE_qxNMC9d90YA_7ppGAUaq0aqNHy4x6SemSNf6zkL/s1600/2013-08-19_17-50-26_435.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKejoKkDClMqMzWMUXRBOT8FnykFmChMtpskOLPToieE7Wi9FtAg8IlOAgAzwB2k6JHAYf_QJoOyI3VTo9OT4R1WWg99NNB3tBtwE_qxNMC9d90YA_7ppGAUaq0aqNHy4x6SemSNf6zkL/s640/2013-08-19_17-50-26_435.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-2376528055099761712013-09-03T13:15:00.001-07:002013-09-03T13:15:11.299-07:00First clay model.<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_ivh76RcSMt3MjbpLGHU1E4P5xXZGz1q8aLni9ooDj1h9f5GZzxrYTiXjZtqqfwuLoHZO0mpLcy9dhNqfmP_QKrg5kTU6xOyRE9-6chxyxpF-h2gPBMV35-tzQISeKU4dfLy1vO10KrY/s1600/2013-08-29_11-45-26_212.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_ivh76RcSMt3MjbpLGHU1E4P5xXZGz1q8aLni9ooDj1h9f5GZzxrYTiXjZtqqfwuLoHZO0mpLcy9dhNqfmP_QKrg5kTU6xOyRE9-6chxyxpF-h2gPBMV35-tzQISeKU4dfLy1vO10KrY/s640/2013-08-29_11-45-26_212.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-7700209292491285772013-09-03T13:14:00.001-07:002013-09-03T13:14:20.257-07:00<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zYLg-BH0bg7adstXyjLx9NUYa2_XHzvQaycJuE_9IQBvlhtcJ5IXcIICGqGNCtECLvUapyjzw_S2EaVROc4zTgWdBLmdoW50NLj1VyfsH_Msfn4XTH8aYs0KDEM_EKU1RGZ_iw1aLAyl/s1600/2013-08-18_15-41-58_186.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zYLg-BH0bg7adstXyjLx9NUYa2_XHzvQaycJuE_9IQBvlhtcJ5IXcIICGqGNCtECLvUapyjzw_S2EaVROc4zTgWdBLmdoW50NLj1VyfsH_Msfn4XTH8aYs0KDEM_EKU1RGZ_iw1aLAyl/s640/2013-08-18_15-41-58_186.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-69621102363828459462013-09-03T13:10:00.001-07:002013-09-03T13:10:37.994-07:00Gifts.<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwVHWUlxWnSwDKP1isGrMG8SD2ynjKyEIMauwSe-e67ichiquJsSr9rdCyhF-MBAvObuTkLfJk9kUZ6p9hfy8Niv1IXclgv_5dVOOe9fC40zv1wHfKdDRq3apvE-dtSjBjEeI78OyvOik/s1600/2013-09-03_16-07-58_191.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwVHWUlxWnSwDKP1isGrMG8SD2ynjKyEIMauwSe-e67ichiquJsSr9rdCyhF-MBAvObuTkLfJk9kUZ6p9hfy8Niv1IXclgv_5dVOOe9fC40zv1wHfKdDRq3apvE-dtSjBjEeI78OyvOik/s640/2013-09-03_16-07-58_191.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-37291465502766308712013-08-19T21:48:00.001-07:002013-09-03T14:40:23.360-07:00Wasted Agenda Mixed Media Collage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_c5zcYkYANLNtRWy3hZIhnWUJftTThXsCJBH_Xt-RMdK4nZpWg0xupzuooEGvj8XBaRCgKAiAkHmG5hdm2h6TUhVNXKlxA7LD7HAjss92P9ztc-bdfIPgWaZnH5am-OPCStgLx2JT5JE/s1600/2013-08-20_00-34-39_663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_c5zcYkYANLNtRWy3hZIhnWUJftTThXsCJBH_Xt-RMdK4nZpWg0xupzuooEGvj8XBaRCgKAiAkHmG5hdm2h6TUhVNXKlxA7LD7HAjss92P9ztc-bdfIPgWaZnH5am-OPCStgLx2JT5JE/s640/2013-08-20_00-34-39_663.jpg" /> </a> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-59502637351287955692013-08-19T21:42:00.001-07:002013-08-19T21:42:10.306-07:00No more dreads.<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKejoKkDClMqMzWMUXRBOT8FnykFmChMtpskOLPToieE7Wi9FtAg8IlOAgAzwB2k6JHAYf_QJoOyI3VTo9OT4R1WWg99NNB3tBtwE_qxNMC9d90YA_7ppGAUaq0aqNHy4x6SemSNf6zkL/s1600/2013-08-19_17-50-26_435.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKejoKkDClMqMzWMUXRBOT8FnykFmChMtpskOLPToieE7Wi9FtAg8IlOAgAzwB2k6JHAYf_QJoOyI3VTo9OT4R1WWg99NNB3tBtwE_qxNMC9d90YA_7ppGAUaq0aqNHy4x6SemSNf6zkL/s640/2013-08-19_17-50-26_435.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-42255821276966701162013-08-16T14:08:00.005-07:002013-08-16T14:08:42.855-07:00Peace pillow.<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOiHDq0_LB1smKLhyphenhyphenEDufhhQPSLurtmjhwMNA0o1lAcfKFsm5jHYy_QfQXI10CSA-HI2WIfpZHptzwGEKCpGw5kxUIvCfzT6tiEmIBO7tqHBO3O2BA8qpajefu5Ylka08219t9DzwLL38/s1600/2013-08-14_16-37-43_558.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOiHDq0_LB1smKLhyphenhyphenEDufhhQPSLurtmjhwMNA0o1lAcfKFsm5jHYy_QfQXI10CSA-HI2WIfpZHptzwGEKCpGw5kxUIvCfzT6tiEmIBO7tqHBO3O2BA8qpajefu5Ylka08219t9DzwLL38/s640/2013-08-14_16-37-43_558.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437679132651040447.post-46775813252259086212013-08-16T14:08:00.003-07:002013-08-16T14:08:33.017-07:00Susan and I.<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDiWpsWXUo0QvQpcnrh8pfa9QZ0xzsQhMtIhqqXJJciaCo3Ww_RWXsGH7e9PPp0olvyoEK09T-X6lhxvaA-4-c17DNX6ud_wpsgM_oVGtlloSS-mpAb1vXx-qSbfvRTKb4T4jHMBPiO1RL/s1600/2013-08-13_17-40-18_851.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDiWpsWXUo0QvQpcnrh8pfa9QZ0xzsQhMtIhqqXJJciaCo3Ww_RWXsGH7e9PPp0olvyoEK09T-X6lhxvaA-4-c17DNX6ud_wpsgM_oVGtlloSS-mpAb1vXx-qSbfvRTKb4T4jHMBPiO1RL/s640/2013-08-13_17-40-18_851.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01733937527968540199noreply@blogger.com0