chainerntamer

[chainerntamer]

I swear, I only need to creampie like ten more girls I barely even know, then I'm done and can settle down...

...maybe twelve.

[chainerntamer]

I'm a functional but borderline psychopathic dude who's killed and almost been killed (with scars to prove it)

I'm a hairy, wiry, nondescript, not very tall guy who doesn't stand out in a crowd (other than my eyes)... But I can stalk you, find you, bind you, and fuck you like I'm trying to murder you while teasing you about your past sexual trauma and making you admit you're a needful lil rapehole who deserves to be treated with libidinous cruelty.

Who in the world would want me to fuck them raw, now that I've admitted that?

Oh...

Apparently many more women than before I admitted that.

Interesting....

[chainerntamer]

There are women in long-term relationships who would let a group of dudes gangbang her in secret if one among the group made her feel safe enough and hit all the right buttons in her head while grooming her.

[chainerntamer]

I already explained, darling.

You cannot wear panties underneath that skirt.

How is daddy supposed to be able to secretly finger you when we're out and about?

You like getting your pussy played with out in public, don't you, baby?

How can I get my fingers in that pretty cunny of yours when we notice that nobody has eyes on us? Surely not as swiftly with those panties in the way, sweetheart.

Leave them off and I promise to let you suck your grool off of daddy's fingers in-between bouts of molesting you. Daddy won't care if someone sees us doing that.

[chainerntamer]

I promise to gag you with something, tie your hands together, and to be very polite to the nursing staff when they inevitably walk in on us (they kinda just barge into my room whenever they want, so let's give them something to gossip about).

Wanted:

One or two human fleshlights to come visit me in the hospital.

I just got a weed vape pen through back channels and I'm gonna be cumming while high a lot during this next week.

Need to see if cumming into a random cunt while high is as insanely good as I remember it, or if the physical wounds and exposure to extreme adrenaline post-almost dying have fucked that up, too.

[chainerntamer]

Wanted:

One or two human fleshlights to come visit me in the hospital.

I just got a weed vape pen through back channels and I'm gonna be cumming while high a lot during this next week.

Need to see if cumming into a random cunt while high is as insanely good as I remember it, or if the physical wounds and exposure to extreme adrenaline post-almost dying have fucked that up, too.

[chainerntamer]

I took dirt from the ground and began rubbing it on my face.

The dirt wasn't fully cooperative, lacking the moisture and texture to adhere to my skin in a way that could substitute for the face paint I forgot to pack.

But it gave me something to do, it felt right, I knew doing it made me look real as fuck for the other guys... it made me feel real as fuck, too.

The day before had been pure terror. Getting our vehicle FPV'd, having our driver abandon us in an open field, fleeing for our lives as more FPVs raced to reach our position, hiding in an isolated building, then having to make our way through the village and across the open expanse to the south as FPVs and drop drones hunted us. Only sharp ears and luck afforded us opportunities to hide from the miniature murder-copters as they appeared.

The day before kind of sucked.

On this morning, continuing our massive infil through rural treelines was tough, deliberate work. But it had come to feel much more like work, rather than clinging to survival. I felt like I had become unexpectedly good at spotting available shadow and cover everywhere I looked, fairly decent at knowing when to move into cover when I heard the enemy drones approaching...

Now, after one last dash across one last open field- where I only fell down once, and an enemy FPV showed up too late to tag me before I made it into the treeline where our friendly position was set up- we were prepping for the assault.

Our native-born friends seemed much more chillaxed, regarding the enemy drones that very frequently probed the trees where the position was dug in. In reality, they were probably just desensitized. Weeks later, two of them would end up in the same hospital as me, courtesy of FPV strikes, with one of the dudes having completely lost his right leg.

But seeing their nonchalance helped lower my pulse and bring me fully into the present, the immediacy of what we were to do next.

That impending task was simple: move up the treeline, make contact with the small groups of enemy holding dugouts and blindages between us and the next friendly position, engage them, kill them. No mercy.

I handed off my excess medical supplies to the QRF medic who'd stay back with our native-born comrades. My pack was still heavy as fuck.

But its weight would be much less a factor now.

As I knelt down and tried to paint my face with dirt, I thought about the inevitable, fast approach of human-on-human combat. We were here. Just another two hundred meters up the treeline, violence of a kind that I had secretly craved for years, decades, awaited me. They enemy I hated and had come to this country to help eliminate would no longer be a faceless force comprised of incoming artillery and flying robots. They'd soon have visible, human faces.

Faces that could be made to contort with fear and pain, if only I and my brothers attack them as hard as we can... Faces that can be shot, blown off, turned to mush with the right grouping of rounds or yeeting of grenades...

I was here now. I was alive- for now.

It was time to kill.

The more I thought about it, the more the fear melted away, being replaced by hatred and determination.

Before we moved out, I caught my team leader looking at me. I had been glaring at the ground, just nodding my head. When I looked up, he nodded back.

An hour and a half later, after getting into two different engagements and helping remove six or seven humans from the living plane, I and a comrade stood above the enemy blindage we had just attacked. I looked into the opening where I had thrown my grenade, then heard a buzzing sound.

I looked up. Out in the field a drone looked back. Enemy or friendly, I didn't know. But what I knew was that I didn't care. If it was a friendly, it was just an annoyance. If it was an enemy, we had already taken out their countrymen.

Our pointman and team leader were inside the blindage at that very moment with handguns, making sure the gentlemen we had pushed into the bunker and turned into grenade soup were- as a munchkin might say- undeniably and reliably dead.

As the muffled sound of safety shots emitted from the blindage, I shrugged my shoulders at the drone, as if to ask what it might want. My comrade flipped it off.

It soon moved on.

We ended up lighting that blindage on fire.

Hours later, as I was gravely wounded and being dragged back past it, I was reminded that no matter if I died (and I was pretty sure I was gonna), we'd done good work that day. And dying with a view of the sky is perhaps preferable to dying in underground darkness like a rat, staring at dirt.

Even if the sky tends to host a lot of drones, you can flip off a drone.

Can't flip off dirt. I mean, you can... But you're maybe better off rubbing it on your face.

[chainerntamer]

Come on over and let me choke you while we watch your favorite horror movie.

[chainerntamer]

ChainerAndTamer

...was my username before.

Don't know if I'll be going back to my old ways, having a purely text-based blog where I'm writing dirty, effed-up stuff, never replying to DMs, and somehow not getting nuked.

Or if I'll just kind of chill and maybe delete this whole thing in a week.

Trying to figure out where that one debilz-m person went because their repost game was fire.

Might post screenshots of my old posts.

Might make new ones.

Might post bulge pics(?) prolly not, but I might.

Anyways... follow, if you want.