rustedtusks.com

*puts on a higher, squeakier voice with an air of confidence not at all befitting of such a boyish voice*

(This means pretend y'all.)

Hi...um...my name is Brice and I have a problem with drugs.

(listens to everyone say "Hi, Brice!")

I mean the problem isn't that I take them. I've always had access to them because my dad has a killer stash but I think...I think I don't so much take them myself because they're not what gets me excited. Like mom, I've got something for booze though. *giggle* Sometimes I'd get so drunk...and like...not remember anything that happens...and when I'm drunk I'll do just about anything on dare. So...like I guess Freud was right in boys wanting their moms, wanting like...women who are like their moms. *giggles* That's maybe why I liked to...you know...get my dates drunk...really drunk. And well I guess I got a drug problem because I like putting roofies in a girls drink. That's like...my confession. They told me coming here would help. That sometimes you just got to fess up and you feel better. Who's next?

*looks about, waiting to see if someone else has something...anything to confess...even if its something small like you shoplifted once when you were seven.*

Ha ha!! Oh my goodness!!! How delightful! Where did THIS come from? Is this a goad for us to continue in this vein for some of the other characters? A sort of situational role-play moment in a fantasy where all the characters of SLOP all happen to be attending the same group meeting?

Jadúgara ^_^

Hmmm confessions... Where to begin...

*sits in the corner to think about it for a little while*

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Blobs of lots of

Oh Ummm we have to confess?

scraping a toe paw across the floor...

Well... Ummm what you'll are drinking is'n lemonade.. **Sweat drop!**
**blush**

I never wanted her. At least, not after I had my way with her dozens of times. I always wanted something from her parents, not them sexually or anything they owned. I wanted them to feel remorse. Not just any remorse of course you understand, I wanted them to hate life so badly that they couldn't tolerate it anymore.

I ever grew up as seeing myself as somewhat of an "emotional vampire", I like it when others hurt. No one these days deserves life, or forgiveness or whatever you believe in.

When they found out she was pregnant, they were overcome with joy, they thought we were going to get married. I planned it all out, even the reception and the banquet.

They were devastated when they found out she had commited suicide, along with the suicide of our child. Just couldn't take it anymore, maybe, no note was left, of course there was never supposed to be any note.

She wasn't the first, and she wasn't the last. They weren't all smart, or pretty, or stupid, or easy but their families suffering and their looks on their faces will appease me forever; but I can't stop. I will never stop. I do not know how to stop.

Most people fancy me a gentleman, and I'm a very gentle man if you know what I mean, but I can never find happiness, true blissful happiness in the arms of a wretch, the only satisfaction I get from them is the suffering I will inflict upon all those close upon them.

Tony-Ray asked for confessions, small or big, true or fictional, each to her or his liking. He's already got some morsels from my innocent youth yesterday, so what to add to this thread now after Goathead's splendidly crafted, yet apologetic borderliner fantasy...

Something banal and true as a counterpoint, maybe.

I detest cheese, except on a pizza. I know it's a mental aversion, but I indulge in it.

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A lone figure sits still by a pool - he's been stamped human bacon by some butchering tool - he is you...
Social Security took care of this lad - we watch in reverence - as Narcissus is turned to a flower

*Humidity wafts from an earthenware cup of hot morning sludge, dampening bristles on the snout of this sister boar. She's got a coy smile,*

"I dunno 'bout all that now. Wouldn't recommend confessing to anything...

...Anything you aren't interested in paying for, at least."

So was this Tony's way of saying he was too drunk to get a page up last night?

You just opened one hell of a can of worms, Brice... I'll have a confession for ya shortly.

Confessions, huh?

My boyfriend used to throw me around. He was this fat, obnoxious mutt. Don't know why I hung around as long as I did. Love, or something. Well, whatever. One night I snapped and jammed a meat fork in his throat.
The fucker lived through it.
He's been tracking me for almost a year. For a dumb brute, he's actually pretty good at it. I think because he has a lot of friends in really shitty places.
My time is almost up, I feel.

Great. My first post and I'm totally confused about the topic. Is it an idea for a next chap. or just want us to tell you our dirtiest secrets? ;3

Edit: I think I hope it's the latter. ;D

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Because hurting feels good. x3;;

I love the fact that this thread has brought a couple of lurkers out into the light...

As for me, I think a few too many folks 'round here know some bits and pieces about me that I'd not usually reveal, so I'm going to lie back and enjoy the confessions to come from others...

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Blobs of lots of

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Because hurting feels good. x3;;

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=^.^=
nyao nyao

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Gas burns fast. Liquor burns quicker.

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A lone figure sits still by a pool - he's been stamped human bacon by some butchering tool - he is you...
Social Security took care of this lad - we watch in reverence - as Narcissus is turned to a flower

Well, maybe I can share a more darker side of Micah (Somewhat appropriate, considering the site behind the forum). Even if you don't know me, or me you, I guess It'll give me a rush to admit it in "public".

On the other hand; if you know me personally, please do not read. x3;;

** My boyfriend and I have been talking about him visiting me here in Norway for some time now (that is.. at least I think we're together now), and we've agreed that as long as he is here, he is in full control of everything. I can't deny him anything - Not even the more sadistic stuff. I just can't help to be scared to death by what he could come to do, yet so incredibly excited about it for the same reason.

I've never done any "hard" stuff before, so I don't even know if I would like it, but I like the -thought- of it at least! A lot, actually..

[quote="liskafox"][/quote]Wow ... Just, er, sort of -HOT- ... :3~~

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Because hurting feels good. x3;;

Okay, I'll give you folks a true confession. This is a big one so y'all owe me one (Except for those of you who have already confessed, if they've been true confessions).

I'm going to generalize this. Ever heard of a 'mystic journey'? It's what we Canadians call it when you get boozed up and go wandering. Well I got particularly liquored up one night, I was pretty horny, and I wandered off into the country. Eventually I found a pasture with blobs moving around in it, which I eventually realized were miniature horses. Being drunk, I had to investigate this. Like myself, one of the tiny fellas was very horny, and he... Well it was a night to remember. Let's just say that losing your feet can be an advantage for tiny equines and I didn't nearly put up enough of a fight. x.x

Human curiosity + animals + booze = ut-oh.

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Gas burns fast. Liquor burns quicker.

[ Being drunk, I had to investigate this. Like myself, one of the tiny fellas was very horny, and he... Well it was a night to remember. Let's just say that losing your feet can be an advantage for tiny equines and I didn't nearly]

Oooo.. Interesting.. though it could have been worse.. could have been a normal sized one and you could have blew a colon like that guy in Washington.

"I don't know what I'm doing here, they say I have issues. That I need to stop deluding myself." *shrugs* "I have no idea what they are talking about. I couldn't be happier with myself..."

Random Group member: "Hey lady what's up with the wig?"

"What wig?"

The thylacine grinned, the clove cigarette next to him ever burning but never actually being used. But the glass of rum? That was getting liberal use. And although he was skinny, and not terribly tall, he never seemed to get to the wobbly stage.

"Me? I've got my problems. We all do. 'Course, I like my problem. I got no 'secrets' about it, and I don't ignore it. I like meat. And I don't mean I just like a good steak. I reall like meat. I know all the health warnings and the parasites and bollocks, never gave me any problem. Raw. It's that metallic, salty-sweet taste of meat I love. The way it's somehow both softer and tougher when it's not cooked. The way it just has so much more flavor. You know, even the most masterpeice steak is like cotton when you've chomped down on the real thing? It's like sushi. I can't taste fish, cooked. But sushi? Mahi-mahi prepared bleu? That's heaven. It's just better that way. I guess it's because i'm a carnivore, I dunno. It's just how nature intended me."

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Emoticons are the wheelchair ramps for the humor impaired.