» Pointless Experiments

£4.99 Children's Microscope
- used in an experiment to prove that i had manly sperm and not gay sperm, as my friend believed. You can actually see a great deal of yr lads swimming about even though it's through a kid's microscope intended for snot and hair.

Outcome: Two of my knuckle children were wriggling at each other head-on. I took this to mean that they were fighting and therefore very manly, testosterone filled shperm. My friend said they were kissing.

Result: Inconclusive.




As a happy epilogue to this story, I moved out of that flat soon after the experiment, forgetting I'd left my test tube of love juice on top of a bookshelf. I opened the tube and the fermented stench was so powerful that someone had to throw up their partially digested dinner three floors away.
(Thu 24th Jul 2008, 12:36, More)

» My Arch-nemesis

My Arch-Nemesis
was my first girlfriend who I now know to be a complete and utter cunt of the highest order. Sadistic and twisted, cruel and patronising. Evil, manipulative. Horrible. This isn't a kind of "she tore my heart out and ruined my life". Those kind of stories are for diaries and crap poems.

Instead I'll tell you how she liked to behave. The first six months of our time together was fine, a bit rocky since it was my first real relationship with someone, and I figured I'd have to take the highs with the lows. Then it gradually descended into just a real abusive horrible relationship in which I felt trapped. I mean, I was no 100% perfect boyfriend since I had no idea how being with someone was meant to go, especially at the age of 15/16. But conversely I don't remember doing anything henious in order to warrent these horrible episodes. One of the problems was that she was a year older than me and I was still in many ways a child. Unable to stay out too late because of parental worries, etc.

Some choice cuts were:

- Arguing about something, and then her initiating make-up sex, and at the point of climax, getting off me and standing over me, shouting and screaming, continuing the argument, leaving me spasmodically writhing in a fucking horrible intense mix of pain and pleasure.

- Flinging an entire pint over me at a club night I'd gone to just to give my demo tape to a local band. She threw the pint at me - totally unprovoked - then fled the club. Cue two hours of searching the city for her, only to find her hanging over the edge of the riverbank threatening to jump because it "was all my fault". I coaxed her back over the edge, which she responded to by smashing me across the face, letting my glasses fly and crack on the pavement (and then me doing a kind of "Daphne-from-Scooby-Doo-pat-the-floor-because-can't-see-anything" impression, as is often reminded to me by my friends and witnesses of the night). That night, because I was so confused as to what had happened, I did the worst thing and left my friends in Cardiff with no money or any way home so I could take my girlfriend home in the car. All the way home she pummelled shit out of me as I drove her to her house. (Similar thing happened in V festival in 2002, when she forced me to leave my friends in Staffordshire because she'd argued with her friend - my best mate's girlfriend.)

- Forcing me to try to get off with some strange guy at a club because she thought I was "bisexual but afraid to express it". When I told her I didn't want to, she threatened to leave me and spill all my secrets to friends and relatives (since I was younger and it was her who introduced me to drink and drugs mainly, she had a lot of shit she could spill to get me into a lot of shit with my family).

- Nearer the end of the relationship, I remember spending four hours on public transport to go visit her in university only to be delayed by half an hour because of train troubles. I got off at her stop, with a bouquet of flowers, which she took off me and stamped into the floor, giving me a huge torrent of shit about why I was so late and inconsiderate. She stormed off and we didn't talk for the whole weekend.

- Driving to university to see her for the weekend with her sister, to whom she told she'd fucked some guy the night before. When I got upset about this, she said "Don't be a fucking crybaby, it was just a fuck."

- Hearing her father had been caught with child porn on his PC, which meant he had all his computer equipment taken off him. Months later, he asked me to set up a new computer in his office, which I declined to do. When she heard this, she battered shit out of me for not supporting her father. (He got off all charged of child pornography possession, by the way.)

- Forcing me to leave her house after an argument, then lying underneath my car so I couldn't drive away, screaming at the neighbours about how she would kill herself and I'd be responsible.

There are many, many more instances which prove that she was a horrible person, but I am 100% convinced that I have repressed these memories just because they are so disgusting and horrible.

I can't express enough how much I felt trapped in this relationship. I didn't know how to end it, plus her endless shower of abuse and terror made me scared to leave. At the end, after three years of this, I tried my best to tell her it was over, but she would still come to my house and act like nothing had happened. She would not pay attention to the fact that I wanted to end it. I didn't know what to do.



So, I fucked her sister.

Plenty of times. When she was sleeping in the next room, too. I would fuck her, tell her I was leaving for a cigarette, then go and fuck her sister.

This carried on for a couple of months, then I moved away to university and started a new relationship with someone far far better. I went home on the Christmas holidays, having already told her on the phone that I was seeing someone else, and found her crumpled in a pile on the floor of her room. I told her it was definitely over for good. In her last-ditch attempt to keep me, she tore off my trousers and gave me a teary-eyed, desperate blowjob. I pushed her away and left, never saw her again.

I was told some months afterwards that she intended to sue me for giving her a cold (from stress), which turned into a chest infection, which turned into pneumonia, which - apparently - could have killed her with her bad asthma. Part of me wishes it had.

I'm told now she's engaged to someone in Manchester. The poor cunt.


Apologies for length (but her sister didn't complain).
(Tue 4th May 2010, 11:31, More)

» School Days

Freddy Krueger Poo Fear
This is taken from some e-mail correspondence concerning embarassing shit stories. I know all of you here at b3ta love shit, and it just so happens that it happened while I was at school.



I was five years old and in the first year of proper school. Nursery was filled with turd stories, but this was when I was beginning to be a real boy.

The night before the day in question, I had foolishly sat down and watched Nightmare on Elm Street. This was not wise for a sensitive five-year old. The following day I was tormented by visions of murderers with pizza over their faces and really long nails.

Then, about ten-thirty am (I remember it so well), I felt the need for a shit. However, I could obviously not go to the toilet, because OBVIOUSLY Freddy Krueger was in the adjacent cubicle, waiting for my child's arse to be displayed before murdering me on the job. (I am in no way insinuating that Krueger is a paedophile.)

There was one option - to shit myself. I vividly remember gurning and straining the turd out and rising a good two inches off my seat because of it.

(Aside - I am very short sighted, but this was not found out until I was six. As such, everything my five year old mind remembers is a shambling mess of blurry colours. I am trying to remember the reactions of the teachers of fellow pupils, but alas, I could not see them.)

So then, there I was, cack in pants, happily continuing my work. I remember the teacher coming over to me, about an hour after the ejection of faeces and asking 'Robert, do you need to go to the toilet?'. I also remember my chiming reply: 'No thank you miss!'

I also remember one of the other boys, Christopher, who was sat next to me and believed he was confiding in me about the terrible smell somewhere in the classroom. He was all like 'That smells been following us around. Who do you think did it?'

I feigned ignorance.


Anyway, home-time came. That makes it a stunning four and a half hours sat with caked-on shit in my pants. As I was walking home, holding my mother's hand, she said to me 'Have you stepped in dog poo, love?'

'No.'

'Are you sure? It smells terrible here.'

'No, I haven't, mam.'

'Are you positive?'

'Yes. I've shit myself.'

I remember saying that last sentence with a fair amount of glee.


I also remember my mother running home in order to prise the shitty kecks off me.


I don't remember much after that, apart from my father coming home from work, and me running over to him completely nude and shouting 'I SHIT MYSELF IN SCHOOL TODAY'. All the while, my mother was at the bathroom sink, chipping at the now solid mass of child-excrement.

Needless to say, the pants went in the bin.
(Thu 29th Jan 2009, 20:41, More)

» Caught!

caught red-arsed
When I was sixteen, and first discovering the sweet, sweet delights of finally having sex, I would get my girlfriend around to my house at any opportunity to rut her brains out (Which wasn't too much of a task, dedicated Fiendish Followers may remember tales of this harridan from here - b3ta.com/questions/nemesis/post713195).

I was very happy at that time, and so were my parents. Presumably because I'd spend my early teens listening to Iggy Pop and David Bowie and discovering how to "fag-it-up" by wearing eyeliner and nail polish and all that, and my they were glad I was actually going out with a girl instead of being a creepy gay loner.

Anyway, one night I invited my girlfriend over, mumbled hellos to the parents and went upstairs to screw like only teenagers can. My father was due to go out that night and my mother, being the more tolerant parent, would be spending the evening watching It's A Wonderful Life or something equally as mothery, probably ignorant of our animal noises being made upstairs.

Come about 10pm, and on the fourth or fifth romp of the evening (memories...), I heard the front door go and my dad enter the house. I heard a bit of happy drunken mumbling in the hallway, and thinking he'd go into the living room and pass out, I carried on with my dutiful ploughing. But instead, I heard him coming up the stairs. Assuming he was a bit worse for wear and wanted to go to bed straightaway, I didn't stop my penetration session.

"Yoo-hoo!" he called up the stairs, "I've brought you both a takeaway!"

"...Great, thanks." I called back. "Leave it outside, I'll get it in a bit."

"It's from that new Chinese place!" he continued.

"Yeah fine, just leave it there, I'll get it in a second. Don't come in."

"I've already eaten my chop suey and it was great, you'll enjoy this!"

"Great. Don't come i-"

But before I could finish, he had swung open the door to this sight which must still be burned into his memory. His only son, balls-deep in his girlfriend, staring back at him with the eyes you normally see on a puppy that's just shat everywhere. An arse he had changed the nappy on numerous times was now glinting in the light from the streetlamp outside, slowly grinding to a halt before his very eyes. My girlfriend's fat, saggy tits, dribbling down her sides, now motionless.

"Oh." he said, and slowly closed the door.

Thinking it inappropriate to continue, I sadly wilted out of my girlfriend. We laid in my bed, sort of half worried and half amused by the situation. My father has obviously thought I was bringing my girlfriend round so we could listen to music and maybe kiss each other on the lips once (with no tongues), and certainly not because I wanted to put my willy in her fanny. As we nervously chuckled, I heard a booming voice from below stairs.

"GET DOWNSTAIRS!"

Hurriedly getting dressed, I sheepishly walked downstairs to find my father in a state of sheer fury. He was actually turning purple.

"Um, alright?" I said.

"For FUCKS SAKE boy, what do you think this is, a HOTEL?!"

Confused by the idea that he might have been thinking that I thought hotels were used purely for teenage sex, I went upstairs to get my girlfriend and we walked out. I walked her to her bus stop, and then made the long journey back home. On the way, I passed my grandparent's house, and obviously having heard about the commotion, my grandfather called me in.

"Now listen boy," he said, "sex is a wonderful thing. You know that now. I'm in my sixties, and I've had sex yesterday, I'll have it today, and I'll have it tomorrow. Now your father is upset but I've spoken to him and if you go over and talk to him, everything will be alright."

Everything did turn out to be alright, as my dad apologised to me the morning after by buying me a PlayStation 2.

Fucking result! A shag and GTA III all in the space of 48 hours.
(Fri 4th Jun 2010, 9:31, More)

» Breasts

A friend at university
once told me that back in his hometown, they had a local fried chicken shop (think KFC knockoffs, you know the type), the owners of which could not speak or write English very well at all. One day, they put a special lunch deal on the board - £2 got you a chicken breast, chips and a coke.

However, the special offer poster read like this:

CHICKEN BEAST FOR LUNCH
£2
(Thu 6th May 2010, 13:36, More)