That’s how we deal with boys like me.

Who the fuck are Marcie and Gina?

At the email from one of my girls about something posted on an erotic fiction website, my initial reaction of amusement rapidly changed to one of irritation and finally to indignation.

So deep dive time.

Blue’s Clues theme plays on repeat as ‘reading music’

These bitches seriously have a lot of nerve. I’m the sick and twisted bastard? Butt sex is one thing but a candy bar? Jesus, it only took five chapters to degenerate into scat. Add to that, the idiom is stilted, turns of phrase childish, and literally no human being has seriously ever uttered the words ‘rue the day’ since sometime in the 1870s.

I’m a psychopath. I’m the first one to admit and acknowledge that my rejection of societal norms, inability to feel empathy in any sort of normal way, and solipsistic view of other living beings places me firmly in that category. Even so, I’m not an asshole. I don’t want my charges to suffer any undue stress. I have no need to see the anguish in their eyes at their transformation. I have no desire to cause humiliation. Hell, my end results usually leave my charges with a genuinely happier life than the one which I take them from.

Marcie never agonizes over torturing Gina. Right from the jump she dives right into the deep end of the depravity cesspool and starts swimming like she was born there. It’s not just the big things either, the little bits, like mocking Gina for not knowing her own phone number, she revels in. This is not the kind of behavior that a shrinking violet indulges in when suddenly handed power over a bully. This is the behavior of someone who when bullied goes home and shaves the cat and burns ants with a magnifying glass. Marcie is a monster.

Gina on the other hand is to be pitied. The vapid lipstick lesbian who cares for no one but herself and has yet to learn that out in the real world, outside the shelter of home and secondary school, she is totally insignificant, and that not only will she be fetishized, marginalized, and generally despised, but her potential dating pool in college outside of one semester lesbians or GuGs (Gay until Graduation… it’s a thing) share more in common physically with Kathy Bates than Anne Heche. Her life, should the bizarre and unrealistic concatenation of circumstance that placed her at Marcie’s dubious mercy not have occurred would be one of abject misery, not in the broken leg and constant pain way, but in the slow creeping anxiety and trudge toward mediocrity and eventual **** that is the fate of all humans. Birthing wards at hospitals should placard their walls with the motto “Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here”.

So a psychopath and a bimbo.

I briefly consider stalking and plying my trade on them, but the simple truth of the matter is that their own existence is punishment enough. In fact my ministrations would only give their brief insignificant lives meaning and allow them the pure bliss of having a purpose to serve.

Also “maul” is perfectly acceptable parlance for brutalizing a woman’s breasts in a way that only gives her pleasure through coincidence and is more likely to feel uncomfortable. Miriam-Webster gives the third definition of the word as verb as “to handle roughly”. Mangle is more what in line with the definition espoused by the bimbo.

Today I show mercy as my retribution.