Recap of where we left off:
•A handful of women in the tri-state area are missing and/or dead due to your gruesome proclivities.

•The girl in the basement, Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith, is slipping into your control, she's nearly completely brainwashed. She's already dominating the other girl...

•The girl in the attic, Geraldina Cooper (a.k.a. Black Rose). She's been defiant, but she'll become your humble servant, or die trying.

•The love of your life popped back into your head after being suppressed for so long... Janey Squall... You tried to hide her from memory, but she was the first girl you ever did this to... At times you just wish you had her back... But she was a witch, and she needed to burn at the stake.

•During your many heroic endeavors as a police officer, you've come across a particularly nosy but ravishing news reporter at the Velton County Journal, Jenny Jenkins. She recently wrote a hit piece on you and the rest of Velton Police Department, filled with fake quotes.

•Martin Zinger owns the Journal, as well as about a dozen other corporations in the tri-state area. Capitalizing on a unique opportunity, you managed to strike a deal with him at the cemetery, replacing the rogue Senior Detective Donavan Black as Zinger's secret personal security.

•You've taken on the role of mentor to the freshest, youngest face at VPD, Ho Sung. If he gets sworn in as a Junior Detective, he'll take your accolade of being the youngest officer in the nation to earn that title.

•Comm'r Seth Higgins' son, Scrawny Ronny, and Ronny's pal, Rick Rippler are both bullies on the Pell University water polo team. They've been implicated in the hazing death of their teammate and your former
friend, Lon Lemmings. Like a weaving snake, you've gotten in close with Seth's son Ronny, having him turn against his pal Rick for "immunity".

•Being subject to an internal investigation after arousing too much Suspicion, coupled with the pressure of being the focus of a local media blitz, Comm'r Higgins instructed you to take time off of work.

•After posting dozens of social engineering ads in the Rants and Raves section on Craigslist, you met a man who has similar interests and talents as you. Without provocation, he sent you authentic but untraceable photos of freshly butchered human bodies around his house.

•The sexy MILF next door Carolina Smith was in a marital dispute that turned physical, where her husband "abducted" the kids and drove away with them! You rescued the children and locked up the father in a cold cell, only to find Carolina herself abusing her children! You nobly stepped in to defend the children.

•Joy Kinov - the mayor Jack's daughter and one of the popular mean girls you went to school with - is in your scope right now, and you can't help yourself any longer. She must be yours. She'll be an excellent addition to the other two beauties in your house.

For the full scoop, check out https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Velton

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>ROLL 2D20!!
>ROLL 'EM!

"Welcome back, Junior Detective."

"Heh. Hey, Higgins. Fancy seeing you again so soon," you respond meekly to the Commissioner's booming voice.

"Yeah, I told you to take a couple days off and not come back until Sung's induction ceremony... But we're glad you never take a day off." Commissioner Seth Higgins passes a glass of instant hot cocoa to the smallest of Carolina Smith's tres niños. Seth, the ex-college football player, strides up to you and towers over you, the fluorescent office light filtering red through his Irishman hair, and the sight of the kids you saved blocked out by his burly barrel chest. Odors of bourbon and unbrushed teeth ooze over you. Seth crosses his hairy arms, and looks to you. "Your actions remind me of a younger version of myself. I'm glad we have you representing the department. But you've got to understand that with Martin Zinger's mayoral campaign going on, and his constant attacks on the department; the Journal's focus on you in particular... We can't really give you the credit you deserve on this bust, but know that everyone in the department appreciates you doing stuff like this. I'm going to be mentioning your actions in tonight's press conference, I just can't reference you by name. Sorry, Skeletor." He ends his heartfelt statement by mocking your gaunt appearance for the umpteenth time.

Seth looks genuinely upset about not being able to promote you by name, a further proof of him living vicariously through his subordinates, but you genuinely don't feel the need to take credit for the rescue. Despite what you gruesomely do in your basement and attic, what you saw in Carolina's bedroom still shook you up a bit. You feel as though any sane, rational person would have acted the same way.

"Just happy to help, Commish."

You turn to walk away, but Seth tugs at your shoulder. You meet him eye to eye again. "Hey. With Don Black going AWOL, and Sung being brought in as a new Junior Detective... All the hard work you're putting in, the way you represent this department, you're on the shortlist to Senior Detective. I know you're young, but I mean it. I'd much rather promote from within than have to hire from outside. And I think you're worthy of the title, no matter how young you are, kid. You've already shown me you deserve it a helluva lot more than most who carry the title. Come talk to me when all this mayor-race and cop-hating bullshit in the newspaper and on TV and the radio has died down."

File: MRSMITH.png (835 KB, 1172x896)

835 KB PNG

"I'm honored, sir. Thank you." You take a last glance at Carolina's kids, they're playing with the blankets Seth gave them, and fighting over a tablet that's squeaking out some cartoon's audio. You still remember their mother's crazed face, her dilated eyes and her penetrating reek of tequila as she attempted to squeeze the life out of her boy. The girls' hair is still teased and clumped from how they were handled.

You walk across the VPD building to the holding cells, where now both parents of the three children reside. You walk past the entrance, going around instead of through the metal detector. The door guard greets you and asks if you need to speak with any particular detainee.

"Mr. Smith, please." You figure he deserves to know, he is your next door neighbor after all, even though you hardly ever saw him because he was almost always at work and never at home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"RRRRREEERRRRRRRAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!" Mr. Smith wiggles pointlessly in his cuffs, slamming his head against the stone wall. "AGHHHHH! ...Please, man, I can't... I can't stay here another minute, I've gotta see my kids, man!!!!! If that psycho bitch gets out and gets her hands on them again..." He begins weeping uglily.

"I don't think you need to worry about Carolina getting out."

His crying eyes dart to your sympathetic, dry ones when you mention his wife's name. You don't know what to say to him. You two neighbors sit in silence until Mr. Smith puts something awful together.

"If... If I go to jail and that bitch goes to an institution, the kids...! Who's gonna?!?!?" Mr. Smith looks to you for only a split second, realizing instantly that you don't have the solution. Then, teary-eyed, confused, looking for mercy, he looks back up at you...

Stifling back cries: "Can you... Help me? You're my neighbor... You know now, better than anyone, that the only reason I took my kids that terrible day, was to get them away from that demented whore!!" His eyes can barely open through the tears. He's squinting and crying, moaning and dripping snot.

"Why haven't you hired a lawyer yet? If I were you, I'd take out a loan, sell the car and the house..."

"Don't you think I want to? We're... We're... Carolina and I were already going through a divorce... All of my assets are tied up right now because of it. That bitch has final say on any large purchases made with those accounts until the annulment is sorted out and finalized, right now, everything's in the air."

Rolled 18, 15 = 33 (2d20)

>>5478021
Its killin’ time

"Shit, man."

"Can you help me?"
>Avoid this. "Like I said. Do what you've got to do, sell everything and fight this with all you've got if you truly care about your kids and your freedom. I... Just came here to ask you if you want me to turn your thermostat down, Carolina had it set at 79°. Your bill will be enormous."
>Help him out. "I'll testify for you man. Don't you worry about a thing. We'll get you out of this cage and out of those cuffs and back home with your kids as soon as possible. Mark my words. I'm sorry this is happening to you."
>Drive him crazy. "Carolina's lawyers will argue in court that this is all your fault. You drove her to drink, you emotionally devastated her by abducting her kids, and you were afraid of what life after the divorce would look like, so YOU went crazy, not her. She'll get out in a few weeks and probably get full custody. Honestly, I'm not even sure where I fall on this issue..."
>Dig for info. "Is there anything I should know about Carolina before I go interview her? Has she ever acted like this before? Any known allergies? What can you tell me about her side of the family?"
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking to your Lincoln Continental to head home from your day-off-work-at-work, you think about what to do for your remaining vacation. Taking Black Rose back to Hangman's Falls, where you met her face-to-face for the first time, should be erotic for you and terrifying for her. What acts should you inflict upon her? Which acts should you have Mandie inflict upon her?

While pondering all the possibilities, your mind runs through a mental image of the photos of the woman chopped into 9 pieces. Though the anonymous killer's cuts were masterful, it reminded you of a crass cartel-style killing, needlessly simple, blunting all the true ways a person should suffer. The skin wasn't bruised or contorted or burned or scabbed at all, and the genitals were left completely intact on the torso. He didn't even play with his food before he finished it. It almost upsets you that such charlatans are at work in your area. It incenses your killing desires again...

Inside your home, you feel like you're going crazy. You don't bother locking the deadbolts, hooking the chains, or turning the padlocks, but your instincts kick in and lock the knob still. You have an incurable wanderlust, why can't you just be satisfied? Why do all these weird things keep happening around you? What does it all mean?

You need to fuck or torture something, but for you, that's a redundant statement. Your Craigslist killer instincts are going haywire. You have a feminist liberal arts major in your basement and a goth girl in the attic. Why aren't you content? Why do you still need more? ...Are you already getting bored with Black Rose and Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith? You shake your head to accompany your next thought: of course not.

Running your fingers over the nearly undetectable scratch marks on the kitchen table from the other night's dinner, you remind yourself of all the progress they've made, all the progress you've made. You snatch and clutch your keys from your pocket and head out without eating or saying hello to your darling slaves. You make sure to lock all the locks, though. You're going to be a few minutes early to your therapy session with Dr. Lipschitz in Millard Hills.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your visit to the flashy uptown shrink doesn't start off well, since your favorite hot receptionists had disappeared and been replaced with a fat, metrosexual oaf. But once you laid in the lounge chair in the dim-lit, neutral-smelling room, the conversation just seemed to flow naturally.

"How're you doing today, Lipschitz?" You ask mildly, almost humoring yourself with the frivolity of the situation.

"Good, I'm doing well, thank you, detective. If I may ask, how are you doing?" He responds, with clinical intrigue.

"Ah, I'm alright. I suppose I mostly came just to keep up a regiment with you. Thanks for your help in the past."

"My pleasure." You both smile and ruminate, each of you with hundred-yard stare in a different direction for a different reason.

"So, how about Jack Kinov? You think he's got a chance against Zinger?" You ask, entertained.

Dr. Lipschitz chuckles and throws his hands up in a shrug that his face then matches.

"Heh, I know you probably aren't supposed to talk about it, but?"

He declines.

"Ah, that's fine. But in all seriousness... I haven't been listening to the news-"

Lipschitz interrupts: "That's probably a healthy choice, with the way they've been plastering your name and face all over the Journal and Channel 4's VelTV."

You cut to the point. "I saved my neighbor's kids from being strangled by their mother."

"Oh..."

"It happened this morning..."

After filling him in, you ask him how you did.

"I think anyone would be proud to call you a friend or colleague. If what you say is all true, you're a truly brave man. And I believe you. Unfortunately, taking responsibility for others' safety and helping people out can inflict a massive burden on their psyche. I see it all the time in law enforcement. Ofttimes, the heroes get venerated - well, in your case, vilified - but not treated like a real human. I guess you must be feeling-"

File: SKANK.png (3.02 MB, 1200x1124)

3.02 MB PNG

You cut off his search into your emotions. "Sorry to interrupt, but... Tell me more about Brenda Su's sudden departure from your practice? I guess I was feeling so clouded that it didn't click for me until now. I feel I need to ask... She hasn't returned any of your calls? Even your niece Genita Schwarz hasn't heard from her even after working together all Summer and going to Pell U. with her? Do you think something happened to her? It seemed like Genita and Brenda were friends, it seems weird that she just went AWOL..."

Dr. Lipschitz seems saddened and distressed. He sighs. "Look, I'll tell you what I know, or what I've heard..."
(First set of rolls goes to this! Mode, or median if no mode)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After therapy, your urges have driven you to hunt for your ruthless tormentor back in high school, the mayor's daughter, Joy Kinov. On your burner phone, she was easy to track. She's silently signaled her every visit to Club Fake by dressing up like a threadbare skank and posting risqué photos on her ChapSnizz storyline.

Lincoln Continental flying down Peach Boulevard, you're barely able to put your demons in line. But they're in line, for now. Less than a half mile out from the dance club, you turn the radio off.

You've dreamt of what you'd do to this bimbo's surgically enhanced body once you have it in your grasp, but you can't get ahead of yourself yet....

...Ah, there that cunt is.
What a bitch.
It's time to take her.

Where do you do it?
>Run her down an alley and throw her in the trunk.
>Wait for her to come out of Club Fake, she might be drunk and vulnerable, but she could also have muscle escorting her.
>Monitor her ChapSnizz and stake out her parents' house, you'll take her in the wee hours of the morning after her partying is over.
>Go in Club Fake and buy Joy drinks all night from across the bar. At the end of the night, pretend to be a Tuber taxi service and convince her to get a ride home with you.
>Write-in
(Up to 5 rolls goes to this! Used as a set.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remember, Junior Detective, try not to arouse too much Suspicion or you will be subject to investigation. If you do, DEFINITELY don't get Pinched, or everyone will find out that You Are A Craigslist Killer!

[Previous Suspicion Check Roll from last thread: 16.33 (Super pass, additional -0.2 Suspicion subtracted!)]

Suspicion Level: 4.26
(Second set of rolls goes to this - Average/Mean. Try to score higher than your Suspicion Level, or you will be under internal investigation and subject to getting Pinched!)

Rolled 7, 11 = 18 (2d20)

>>5478030

>Dig for info. "Is there anything I should know about Carolina before I go interview her? Has she ever acted like this before? Any known allergies? What can you tell me about her side of the family?"
>Go in Club Fake and buy Joy drinks all night from across the bar. At the end of the night, pretend to be a Tuber taxi service and convince her to get a ride home with you.

Rolled 10, 13 = 23 (2d20)

>>5478030
>Help him out. "I'll testify for you man. Don't you worry about a thing. We'll get you out of this cage and out of those cuffs and back home with your kids as soon as possible. Mark my words. I'm sorry this is happening to you."
>Go in Club Fake and buy Joy drinks all night from across the bar. At the end of the night, pretend to be a Tuber taxi service and convince her to get a ride home with you.

Rolled 5, 16 = 21 (2d20)

>>5478030
>Dig for info. "Is there anything I should know about Carolina before I go interview her? Has she ever acted like this before? Any known allergies? What can you tell me about her side of the family?"
>Run her down an alley and throw her in the trunk.
Keep it simple stupid

>>5478024
Thank you for your rolls and your eagerness. Would you like to vote on the issues of Mr. Smith's incarceration and/or Joy Kinov's abduction?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voting will be open for at least another 24 hours.

Thanks everyone for joining, and once again I apologize for not starting in October as I said I would.

Rolled 16, 5 = 21 (2d20)

>>5478030
>Dig for info. "Is there anything I should know about Carolina before I go interview her? Has she ever acted like this before? Any known allergies? What can you tell me about her side of the family?"
>Run her down an alley and throw her in the trunk.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

1. Fake Tuber
2. Keep it simple

Voting closed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

>>5478063
>>5478169
>>5478414
>>5479211
>>5478024

Player rolls in order of use
18, 7, 10, 5, 16 (Lipschitz set of rolls)
15, 11, 13, 16, 5 (Sus Check set of rolls)

Suspicion check - 60/5 = 12, pass
Digging for info from Lipschitz - 10, ???
Digging for info from Mr. Smith - 18, great success
Joy's abduction - 7, 10, 5, 16, 15 :)

Update is being written

I got asked to cover a shift at work the other day, then had to do some homie shit with my homies yesterday, otherwise the update would've been out already - sorry!

Update is coming either within the next 3-4 hours, or will drop later tonight after I'm back from work, in about 12-14 hours.

>>5483230
I want my swimming sessions with our girls fae

File: Spoiler Image (497 KB, 1166x1588)

497 KB JPG

(Fell asleep, sorry! Full-length update coming in about an hour!!)

>>5483256
S O O N
Coming the update after this one foshizzle, chief.

>ROLL 1d20!!
>JUST ONE!
>ONLY ONE, PLEASE!

"Carolina used to peg me with a strap on dildo. Hard." Mr. Smith confesses, beet-red, eyes closed.

"You... Didn't have to tell me about that." You respond, feigning disinterest.

"You don't get it!" Carolina's husband meets your gaze with panic and fear, then complete abandon. He's looking down at his prison shoes now. "Our kids started asking why I was walking with a limp... I couldn't go on the construction site because of my injuries. She started making comments about me, that I'm not even a real man. Can't provide for the kids. Don't love them enough... I told her we had to stop having sex her way, but the abuse only got more intense... She made me bleed one time!! One night, I broke down weeping and sobbing for hours and hours, during... Sex. Carolina said she couldn't even look at me anymore. She wanted the divorce, not me. She wanted to take my money from me, and take my kids away from me, and then... She wanted to take their lives?" His brow furrows, but he still looks at his feet. The skin around his eyes turn upside down, to cry. "I loved them all so much... Now I've lost them all..."

You're silently staring at the man telling his story.

"Ever since she found out about that place..." Mr. Smith tenses up and stares contemptuous, icy daggers at the corner of his cell and sways his head slowly back-and-forth. You toss the man a look of intrigue. He relinquishes: "It's called Slappy's Sex Shop. It's where she bought her 'toys'. I went down there one day to talk to the owner, and he said there's a confidentiality agreement he had with customers, that he wouldn't stop selling sex toys to my wife just because I was asking nicely. He tried to talk me in to supporting my wife being a sex pervert, and I, I, I... I almost killed that mothafucka, I'll tell ya what..." Eyes bulging, his head swings momentously and steadily side-to-side now, wishing he had his hands on Slappy, or his wife, or his kids and freedom. He gawks at you.

"You- You won't tell Carolina I said any of that, will ya?"

No need to. Not yet, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Minutes before spotting your mark, with your very last bit of calm, you pulled over to the side of the road and removed both license plates from your car, using the screwdriver you keep in the trunk with your other tools.

You can't believe the impossible patience that's been required of you since you've had Joy Kinov in your sights. It's been several years in fact, since you first dreamt of humiliating this whore with sex acts and other abuse. Now that her daddy's the mayor and you're a Craigslist killer, things have changed quite a bit. The fantasies you had in your head in high school have... Matured.

You're flying down the boulevard, 15 miles over the speed limit in your semi-stylish dented Lincoln that was manufactured half a century ago. You see Joy walking down the street to join the line for Club Fake, all alone. It's pretty busy out near the club, but this side of the street is sparse. You drive closer to the girl. Like a fever dream, one insane thing connects into the next crazy thing seamlessly, and the core of the world tumbles down a hill - no - falls down a chasm, while you scrape and scratch, trying to grasp anything you can on the way down. You're in an element you didn't know you could be in.

It's time to take care of business again.

I. Deception
You ease off the gas to control your vehicle better. Cruising up to and creeping on the clueless Joy, you swear you see a nipple poking out of her skimpy shirt. You're salivating. With your vehicular prowess you learned in the police academy, you completely run Joy off the road and down the alleyway, the only rational response she could have to you darting at her on the sidewalk in a steel-framed beast. You ready a set of handcuffs. How do you get her in the trunk?
>Once she's cornered: get out, chase her down, deploy your taser on her. It'll be easy to tape her up then.
>Easy mode. Go ahead and hit her lightly with your front bumper, to make sure she can't run anywhere.
>Holler at her until she comes to your car, then take her, or fool her into getting in. Yell "HEY HOOCHIE, GET IN THE CAR!", or maybe something more sophisticated. (Optional: What?)
>Write-in

II. Torture
You drive out to a special place and do a special thing with your newest sweetheart. It's not your average every day anymore. It's a special day. A holy day, for you. When in a "safe" place, you produce the girl from your trunk and put her in the passenger seat. You tremble with joy, and Joy just trembles, now gagged with a rag. She's awfully quiet and sweaty and nervous for such a hot and popular girl - not for a lack of trying, though. You can tell that she wants to tell you something, but it's your turn to speak:
>"Remember Me?" Right there in another alley across the street from Club Fake, you mercilessly backhand the cunt in the passenger seat in her rag-stuffed mouth, and ask her if she knows who you are. Drive off into the sunset while she's unable to scream or escape.
...
(Cont'd)

...

>"These Little Piggies Never Made It To The Evidence Room." Shove a handful of pills down the bitch's throat and force her to swallow. Hope you like Vicodin, ho. It's too bad she'll probably never remember this fine misty mountain ride to the top of an unnamed Appalachian peak.
>"Here's A Blast From The Past!" You're back where you met Joy for the first time, in the empty Velton High School stadium parking lot. You take out
>"Eat Watt, Thot!" While driving through a frontage road to an abandoned smelting factory, going a calculated 7MPH above the Speed Limit, you pull over to tase and tase and tase the broad all over her implanted breasts and shaven-clean vagina.
>"Write-in."

III. Sex Acts
You feel like the crotch of your khakis are going to split in two. In a hazy daze, you still have the wherewithal to glance at your surroundings - they're empty. You unzip and continue, thrilled you've earned a fifth time doing this. Janey Squall, Ena Fuvya, Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith, Geraldina Cooper, and now, Joy Kinov. You earned this.
>Chomp a nipple straight off her fake titty. Use your pocket knife if teeth don't work. Drink the blood, smear it on your face and hers. Suck until the blood stops flowing.
>You unseal and dump a small bucket of spiders, worms and centipedes on the girl's chest, down her halter top. You tear her mini-skirt off and begin fisting the bugs inside of her birth canal.
>You haven't felt like having a smoke in a while, but right now you're getting a strong urge to put out a fresh pack of 20 lit stoges in the mean girl's left armpit while you suck on her toes and listen to her cry.
>Take the gag-rag out of Joy's mouth, spit in her eye, wrap her hair around your hand a few times, yank her close, and swap tongue with her while mangling her by her hair, simultaneously groping and fingering her.
>Write-in

IV. Capture (Previously Snuffing)
A few short minutes in, you meet your sweet release. You'll have more time and security to do more at home. Now, a wave of panic sweeps in, realizing that what you just did was suuuuper illegal. Post-nut clarity is a bitch, one you'll never be able to chain up in a basement. As for Joy, she's roped and taped up tight, and fits in your trunk, no problem.
>Hightail it home, taking the back routes, smoking a cigarette and blasting 92.3 KTWRP FM on the way, relishing your actions.
>You feel as though this moment, and this girl, needs a stake driven in to it to solidify its importance. Before you leave this place, you mark it by taking and tying Joy's shoes together and throwing them over a nearby telephone power line. Whenever you come back to this place, you'll know.
>Visions of V-Shakes and V-Fries dance in your mind. Make a quick de-tour to V-Burger so you can enjoy a nice post-abduction meal, you're famished! Pick up a Diet Velta-Cola for Mandie while you're at it.
>Write-in

V. Storage (Previously Disposal)
You're still driving home, veins and arteries full of adrenaline and glee. You'll decide exactly where in your house you'll stash the mayor's daughter later, for now, you want to plan on how to stash her.
>Joy gets to look at her reflection all day, in fragments of mirror shards all around her vision so she can never look away from herself. She'll be done up in clownish whore makeup, strapped to a radiator or other heavy object. Glue her eyelids open.
>Stuff the bitch in a box and pull her out only when you want to play with her, or spit on her, or piss on her. You'll feed her and have Mandie clean her feces every few days, but other than that, she's a luxury toy.
>Give her the Black Rose treatment, and put this degenerate scum on a cross. Instead of nails, you'll use rope... For now...
>Give her Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith's strappado treatment, and suspend her from the ceiling with any chains, ropes and ligatures you have.
>Write-in

VI. Celebration
You plan a big celebration for this girl, both because this has been a long time coming to her, and because this marks a milestone as your fifth woman you've had sex with. You're a regular stud! If only others could see your worth and bravado! What do you have in mind to savor and cement this moment? [Choose one (1) OR two (2) options for part VI.]
>The Velton Violator strikes again! Send another anonymous magazine-cut-out letter to the Velton County Journal to intimidate the public. Tell them what's happened to the precious daughter of the man who supposedly leads this town, Jack Kinov. He's powerless, and you're the real sultan of Velton. You're untouchable, you can have any woman you want. Lock your doors, Velton. Nyeh heh heh heh heh.
>Nyeh heh heh heh. Send your Craigslist contact a picture of your work, just to boast, and to see what he says. You already know your work outclasses his by miles. He's an amateur, and you're a pro. Make it known to him.
>Have a foursome with all of your whores!!! Nyeh. Nyeh heh... Myeh....... Afterwards, immediately go to Craigslist and choose which whore you plan to abduct next. This rush must continue! Nyeh heh.
>You want to train Mandie to be a killer, and this is the perfect fodder for her... Nyeh heh...
>Nyeheheheheheheheheheheh. Nyeheheheheh. Nyeheh. NyehehehehehehehehehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEH HEHEH HEH HEH HEHEHEHEH HEH HEH!!!! (Torture the fuck out of this spoiled whore in front of Black Rose and Mandie, abominate her obsessively-obtained artificial image. She'll likely wind up in a horrifying medical state she'll never come back from, but she'll live.)
>Write-in

You've made up your mind, on the heinous but sinfully delightful deeds you'll do.

**BREEDLE-DEEDLE-DEET!**

What the fuck?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**BREEDLE-DEEDLE-DEET!**

File: BRREDLE-DEEDLE-DEET!.jpg (24 KB, 408x500)

24 KB JPG

It's the barely-familiar sound of your burner phone. The contact says BOSS. Hard to believe Zinger wants to contact you now of all times. Does he... Does he have eyes on you? You don't doubt the man's exorbitance of resources or extent he'd go to monitor people he views as beneath him. You glance in the rear view, as if Martin had x-ray vision that allowed him to see what you've got squirming in your trunk. All quiet on the western front.

**BREEDLE-DEEDLE-DE...**

Before it can finish a third circuit, your thumb mashes the ACCEPT CALL button, trembling nerves barely able to multitask a phonecall in one hand and a steering wheel in the other. You're out of power steering fluid, causing you to grind the wheel starboard with all your might just to make a mundane turn.

You feel as though most people would have grunted and been disgruntled, but you neither act in such a manner nor feel such a way. The instant you hit ACCEPT CALL, you do your best to soothe your nerves, but this blossoming relationship with Zinger could get interesting, quick. You decide there's no need to tell him about his political nemesis's daughter in your trunk, you don't trust him enough.

Martin Zinger speaks before you can greet him: "Hey there, Deep Throat, you assemble your squad yet?"

Stonefaced, you respond: "No. I haven't had time to reach out to my contacts yet. But I know who they are." You're feeling a bit irked and emasculated, even with your prize Joy in your trunk, and out of earshot. Before you continue, you think of a fib, then ask: "...And do I have to be called Deepthroat? My contacts already know me under a different alias. They know me as...
>...Smallmouth. Like a slippery river fish known for its aggressive nature."
>...Cockchafer. Like a pest that flies at night when everyone's asleep."
>...The Yak. Like a horned bull, ready to strike if you get to close."
>...The Gobbler. Like Benjamin Franklin's choice for the national symbol, the vicious American wild turkey."
>...Fuck it, just call me Deep Throat. That was a badass callback to the Watergate scandal, I tip my hat to you, Zinger."
>...Lazy Bones. Yes, it's because I look like a skeleton."
>Write-in

"Uh. Sure. I was just fucking around, but sure, you got it. Now -- name names, kid. I need to do background research on each of your goons before I even think of hiring 'em. Now, who are they?" (Choose 2)
>Ho Sung, the rookie detective under your tutelage.
You saw the naïveté in his eyes. He's young and capable, and green enough of a law enforcement to fall deep into corruption without even noticing it.
>Jimmy Waters, the bumbling Senior Detective and your Eskimo Brother, courtesy of the late Ena Fuvya.
You saw the confusion in his eyes. You've already went around and done some heinous shit with this guy, so you can trust him to do three things. Be stupid. Be fat. And keep his stupid, fat mouth shut when you get up to no good.
...
(Cont'd)

...
>"Scrawny" Ronny Higgins, Comm'r Seth's delinquent collegiate athlete son.
You saw the mischief in his eyes. This kid used to haze, bully, exploit and blackmail his peers on a routine basis. You saved his ass, now you've got some wet work to be done, if he wants the cash. You probably won't tell him his ruthless boss is a wealthy celebrity he likely idolizes.
>Rick Rippler, Ronny's water polo teammate and best buddy.
You saw the machismo in his eyes. Currently awaiting trial for the death of Lon Lemmings. You could misplace some files and save this kid's ass by throwing the trial. He'd owe you, big time.
>Your unnamed Craiglist email contact who sent you the photos of the bodies.
You saw the insanity in his posts. He's cuckoo, but he's also a killer; so he probably won't have qualms about this line of work. Besides, his house looked filthy, he could probably use the money. You plan on never meeting this contact, only sending him on his own tasks without you, so as not to expose yourself.
>Mr. Smith, Carolina's husband.
You saw the desperation in his eyes. You can put the squeeze on him and make it seem like if he doesn't help you, he'll go to jail and never see his kids again, all the while pretending to be a kind neighbor to the man.
>Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith, the girl in the basement.
You saw the obedience in her eyes. She's a bit of a loose cannon from being trapped in a rapist's basement for weeks and weeks, but she's been incredibly loyal, to an extreme degree. Before she goes in public again, she should probably get a makeover and a fake identity so she isn't noticed, and some instruction on how to behave.
>Donavan Black, the rogue Senior Detective.
...You haven't seen his impenetrable eyes in a while. You held dirt over Don's head with Jimmy while the three of you were partnered up, because Don was letting power get to his head. Then he dented your Lincoln at the donut shop. Then you took his job as Zinger's main man. Maybe we could bring the dirty old cat back on for some more grimy work, you know he's capable. Besides, as they say: keep your enemies close...
>Write-in

"..." Zinger's phone just buzzes.

**TAKA-TAKA...TAKTAKATAKTAKATAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAKATAK...TAK.**

"Hmm..." After typing on his laptop keyboard, Zinger takes time to mull over your options, clearly looking at their social media profiles while judging them and musing on their public life stories. You wait in anticipation on the phone through a moment of silence, still dragging your leaden steering wheel in circles with one barely-capable hand. "Well, you said you trusted them, I suppose-"

**CLUNK...**faintly, "mmf!! mmmmmff!! let me out!! like, what the fuck!!"

File: craig.jpg (28 KB, 720x390)

28 KB JPG

How could that be... How could that be? The sweat that was beading up on your face now unleashes in a torrent, soaking your shirt. It's cold outside, but you're fired up in your Lincoln. You thought you knew what you were doing... You're in a suburb just a few miles from downtown, halfway home. You scout the streets and see that it's mostly empty. "Boss, I gotta go. Urgent matters to attend to. You know how to reach me." You hang up the phone and focus on driving down this alleyway.

"Oka-" Click.

**CLINK! CLUNK.** muffled: "mmf mff me out of here!!"

You stand over the trunk and pop it. The bloodied mayor's daughter is staring up at you in terror, a corner of her mouth peeking out from behind hastily-laid layers of duct tape. She attempts a muffled scream, but you pounce and stifle it with full adrenaline. You're so worked up you almost kill her with one hand over her mouth and nose, your other wringing her neck. You choke-slam Joy's head and neck against the junk in your trunk until her body goes limp and can only hideously cry silent, dry tears. You tape the mess up so you can go home and continue to achieve your goals.

You slam the trunk and look around.
No one in the alleyway saw you. All the houses are dark.
The cold, lonesome wind sends a chill up your spine.
It reminds you of the cold wind on your sweaty body, just less than half an hour ago.
How you earned what's in your trunk.
Were you too bold?
You try hard not to worry.
You jump in the driver's seat.
You ask 92.3 KTWRP FM to take you away from these feelings of fear and insecurity.
To give you some confidence, even if it's fleeting.
DJ Boogie Jay Skeeter says something you don't even hear.
Then the music starts.
youtube.com/watch?v=nFQhlpB6N2A

(+3.95 Suspicion for abducting Joy Kinov.)
(Potential Suspicion changes from methods chosen in options I-VI will be adjusted next "turn", for now, you're stuck with what you've got. It ain't easy being a killa.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entering your driveway, a late version of the Velton County Journal is at your doorstep. You pay it no mind as you hit the switch on your garage, revealing Black Rose's Toyota Corolla that you switched the plates and destroyed the tracking features on. With all the other crap in the way, your two car garage is currently a one car garage. (You swear you'll go kayaking again one day; you refuse to throw that stuff away.)

You pull your Lincoln Continental up to the garage, in its dented and busted-up state (courtesy of Donavan Black, the bastard). The aluminum license plates in the trunk are metal pillows for the unconscious Kinov. You throw a blanket over the woman to conceal her and make one last glance around your quiet neighborhood, before hoisting her over your shoulder for a fireman's carry into your garage. Once she's on the floor, you simultaneously sprint into the Continental's driver's seat, and hit the garage door button on the remote in your hand, sealing Joy in your fortress of rape and torture.

Turning off your car and running back inside to the garage, you smile as you loom over your newest breathing trophy. What a beautiful trophy she is, even if her medically modified tits are firmer than corkboard. They look stunning. Where will you "mount" this trophy? In the double entendre room? If only you had one.

Where will Joy Kinov stay?
>Chained here in the garage. Hope she likes the smell of motor oil and the uninsulated indoors during Velton's most temperately hot and brutally cold months. You'll soundproof and fortify the garage so there's no chance of escape.
>The bathroom. A rich girl like Joy should know what it's like to be chained to a toilet, and then forced to clean it - with her tongue. You'll install bars on the windows, just in case.
>In your bedroom. She will live under lock and key in your closet or under your bed, coming out only to walk on a leashed collar and perform the tasks her master instructs her to. Bark, doggy!
>In the basement, with Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith. What will this do to the psyches of the two girls? It'll be interesting, that's for sure.
>In the attic, with Black Rose. There's enough room for two insolent bitches up there. Keep all your eggs in one basket, that's what Mark Twain would do.
>In the ground, not here. You really need this rich giggling cunt to die. Not in your back yard, though, you'll find a better place tomorrow after you rape her silly throughout the night and into the morning.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It may as well be Christmas morning. You wake up excited, almost as if there was a garland-draped Douglas fir or blue juniper in your living room, with wrapped gifts underneath. Three presents await you, and you already know which toys are inside of them.

A new toy can't make you forget about an old one. Especially if all the toys come from the same series; then it's like Gu-Yi-Goh, or baseball cards - Gotta collect 'em all.

File: CARFEE.png (644 KB, 869x580)

644 KB PNG

You run up to your attic, bag of tools in hand, standing on a milk crate to be able to access the attic stairs. You climb up with a grin. Black Rose is waking, and shaking, but the expression on her face is already shocked into survival mode. From her position on the inverted cross you built for her, her frown looks like a smile. Her eyes still communicate terror.

You take out the taped obstruction in her mouth - her panties - and wipe her face dry with them the best you can. This time, you stuff Joy's freshly soaked panties into her mouth instead of her own, and give her some new tape so she won't sweat it loose here in the sweltering attic...

The act of you stuffing panties in Black Rose's mouth again must have sent her in a flashback to when you yanked all of her piercings out with pliers. She goes catatonic, allowing you free reign over her body - which, let's face it, you already knew you had.

Take over.

In your bag of tools?
>Just Joy's cell phone. My, oh my, the damage you could do with this to the vain cunt. There's of course the massive emotional damage to Joy, but there's also the political implications, which fascinate you...
>Your cat-of-nine-tails handmade from Slappy himself. If only that old pervy white-haired bastard knew what you were doing with his tools he genuinely designed only for "consentual activities". Hah!
>Provisions for a mock satanic ritual, candle wax aplenty. Perhaps, even after the previous extreme abuse, she'll be suppled to your position if you pretend to worship her as the Queen of the Shattered Mirror, even though you know Black Rose could never fill that role.
>Provisions for a mock exorcism. You'll take the demons out of this whore, using your own body if needed. But just in case, you brought a jug of "holy water"... Mandie's piss.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spend the moments before noon sipping Mandie's coffee you watched her make - she must've been a barista in the past, she knew what she was doing.

Beginning at precisely 12:01PM, you assemble your squad for Boss Zinger. You make two medium length phone calls to your future henchmen.
(Two rolls go to this!)

After some difficult and strange responses and negotiating, the deal is struck. They're both eagerly on board to help you with, as you put it, "various tasks that no one needs to know about".

You head to your front porch to see if Jenny Jenkins has reported anything worthwhile in the Journal - Like a retraction.

Sigh. Nope. The opposite.

File: pakt.jpg (141 KB, 600x445)

141 KB JPG

You'd spit out your coffee, if you were a coffee spitter. Instead, you gulp and gaze at the Journal's front page headline.

VELTON COPS DON'T CARE - WE MUST VOTE OUT MAYOR KINOV!
Editorial by Jenny Jenkins and VCJ staff

(Suspicion +0.2)

You can't help but chuckle. It's an article that focuses on the police force's actual negligence and real facts, rather than focusing on your supposed negligence and fake quotes. Other than the petty complaints anyone could lodge against any police department or sheriff's office, like unsolved murders, there is one chunk that causes you to get angry again, even though you had just achieved inner peace.

Now you know who set Jenny up with those fake quotes from you in the last police exposé; It's the rogue Senior Detective, Donavan Black. Because other than you, there are only two people in the world who know of what happened to Ena Fuvya, well, not what you did to Ena Fuvya, but what Jimmy Waters did to Ena Fuvya. And Jimmy would never speak to a newspaper on something that might implicate him.

It's Don.

That cranky old fool must think he's untouchable. You'll deal with him in due time... In due time, old man...

You consider telling Zinger to keep his bitches on a leash at the Journal, but you doubt it matters, he's full-on focused on the mayoral race and likely wouldn't listen to you anyway. He's got money to make.

You care about other things than money.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're off work for a few days, with all your errands done, and you're finally ready to go camping. You've packed bags for you, Mandie B., and Black Rose to go to Hangman's Falls - the place where you fooled and ravished Black Rose for the first time. It's sure to be invigorating; romantic, even. You'll be out for a few days, then back in time to join and celebrate Ho Sung's induction ceremony to detectivehood at VPDHQ. Some of the heat should die down, too, if anyone happens to be looking for you - they'll be hard-pressed to find you where you're going.

You can't help but think about your newest girl, Joy. What seems like the right move, Junior Detective? Can she come?
>Take the mayor's daughter to Hangman's Falls and show her a good time.
>Leave Joy locked up at home while you take the other girls out, she'll be safe there. Going to the Falls is for good girls. You'll even stuff some food down her mouth so she doesn't starve.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion Level: 8.41
(Avg./Mean of everyone's rolls)

Gonna be honest, I didn't know what to do with the rolls for Joy's abduction, so I didn't use them, I admit I got a little ahead of myself there.

>>5484416
I skimmed right past that "Blast From The Past" option on accident. Feel free to disregard it, choose it anyway, or use it as a template for a write-in. Thank you.

-F. Smelly.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>5484427
>Once she's cornered: get out, chase her down, deploy your taser on her. It'll be easy to tape her up then.
>"Here's A Blast From The Past!" You're back where you met Joy for the first time, in the empty Velton High School stadium parking lot. You take out your old high school outfit and begin cock slapping her while listing all the times she ignored and slighted you.
>Chomp a nipple straight off her fake titty. Use your pocket knife if teeth don't work. Drink the blood, smear it on your face and hers. Suck until the blood stops flowing.
>Visions of V-Shakes and V-Fries dance in your mind. Make a quick de-tour to V-Burger so you can enjoy a nice post-abduction meal, you're famished! Pick up a Diet Velta-Cola for Mandie while you're at it.
>Give her Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith's strappado treatment, and suspend her from the ceiling with any chains, ropes and ligatures you have.
>Have a foursome with all of your whores!!!
>Nyeheheheheheheheheheheh. Nyeheheheheh. Nyeheh. NyehehehehehehehehehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEH HEHEH HEH HEH HEHEHEHEH HEH HEH!!!! (Torture the fuck out of this spoiled whore in front of Black Rose and Mandie, abominate her obsessively-obtained artificial image. She'll likely wind up in a horrifying medical state she'll never come back from, but she'll live.)

>...The Yak. Like a horned bull, ready to strike if you get to close."

>Ho Sung, the rookie detective under your tutelage.
>Mr. Smith, Carolina's husband

>The bathroom. A rich girl like Joy should know what it's like to be chained to a toilet, and then forced to clean it - with her tongue. You'll install bars on the windows, just in case.

>Just Joy's cell phone. My, oh my, the damage you could do with this to the vain cunt. There's of course the massive emotional damage to Joy, but there's also the political implications, which fascinate you...

>Take the mayor's daughter to Hangman's Falls and show her a good time.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>5484427
>Holler at her until she comes to your car, then take her, or fool her into getting in. Yell "HEY HOOCHIE, GET IN THE CAR!", or maybe something more sophisticated. (Optional: What?)
HANDS IN THE AIR! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST.
>"Eat Watt, Thot!" While driving through a frontage road to an abandoned smelting factory, going a calculated 7MPH above the Speed Limit, you pull over to tase and tase and tase the broad all over her implanted breasts and shaven-clean vagina.
>Take the gag-rag out of Joy's mouth, spit in her eye, wrap her hair around your hand a few times, yank her close, and swap tongue with her while mangling her by her hair, simultaneously groping and fingering her.
>Visions of V-Shakes and V-Fries dance in your mind. Make a quick de-tour to V-Burger so you can enjoy a nice post-abduction meal, you're famished! Pick up a Diet Velta-Cola for Mandie while you're at it.
>Stuff the bitch in a box and pull her out only when you want to play with her, or spit on her, or piss on her. You'll feed her and have Mandie clean her feces every few days, but other than that, she's a luxury toy.

>Have a foursome with all of your whores!!!
>You want to train Mandie to be a killer, and this is the perfect fodder for her... Nyeh heh...
There aren't enough space in our home to stuff 4 girls in.

>...Smallmouth. Like a slippery river fish known for its aggressive nature."

>Ho Sung, the rookie detective under your tutelage.
>Mr. Smith, Carolina's husband.

>In your bedroom. She will live under lock and key in your closet or under your bed, coming out only to walk on a leashed collar and perform the tasks her master instructs her to. Bark, doggy!

>Provisions for a mock exorcism. You'll take the demons out of this whore, using your own body if needed. But just in case, you brought a jug of "holy water"... Mandie's piss.

>Take the mayor's daughter to Hangman's Falls and show her a good time.

>>5484444
Quads check.l
What did you have in mind?

>>5484989
I was caught in a fluster, trying to write and proofread at the same time, and totally blanked out. I couldn't settle on an idea I liked. The ideas I had for it either weren't fully to my liking (couldn't think of anything good that was school-related), or were used on the other options. I like where >>5484582 went with it, though.

I also liked your take on the Deception (first prompt), very nice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voting remains open for at least 24 more hours.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>5484427
>Holler at her until she comes to your car, then take her, or fool her into getting in. Yell "HEY HOOCHIE, GET IN THE CAR!", or maybe something more sophisticated. (Optional: What?)
HANDS IN THE AIR! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST.
>"Here's A Blast From The Past!" You're back where you met Joy for the first time, in the empty Velton High School stadium parking lot. You take out your old high school outfit and begin cock slapping her while listing all the times she ignored and slighted you.
>Take the gag-rag out of Joy's mouth, spit in her eye, wrap her hair around your hand a few times, yank her close, and swap tongue with her while mangling her by her hair, simultaneously groping and fingering her.
>Hightail it home, taking the back routes, smoking a cigarette and blasting 92.3 KTWRP FM on the way, relishing your actions.
>Give her Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith's strappado treatment, and suspend her from the ceiling with any chains, ropes and ligatures you have.
>Have a foursome with all of your whores!!!
>Nyeheheheheheheheheheheh. Nyeheheheheh. Nyeheh. NyehehehehehehehehehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEH HEHEH HEH HEH HEHEHEHEH HEH HEH!!!! (Torture the fuck out of this spoiled whore in front of Black Rose and Mandie, abominate her obsessively-obtained artificial image. She'll likely wind up in a horrifying medical state she'll never come back from, but she'll live.)


>...The Yak. Like a horned bull, ready to strike if you get to close."

>Ho Sung, the rookie detective under your tutelage.
>Mr. Smith, Carolina's husband.

>Chained here in the garage. Hope she likes the smell of motor oil and the uninsulated indoors during Velton's most temperately hot and brutally cold months. You'll soundproof and fortify the garage so there's no chance of escape.

>Provisions for a mock exorcism. You'll take the demons out of this whore, using your own body if needed. But just in case, you brought a jug of "holy water"... Mandie's piss.

>Take the mayor's daughter to Hangman's Falls and show her a good time.

>>5486114
>Supporting both write-ins
You're a gentleman and a scholar

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pencils down in 12 hours, getcher votes in before then!

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>5484427
>Holler at her until she comes to your car, then take her, or fool her into getting in. Yell "HEY HOOCHIE, GET IN THE CAR!", or maybe something more sophisticated. (Optional: What?)
HANDS IN THE AIR! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST.
>"Here's A Blast From The Past!" You're back where you met Joy for the first time, in the empty Velton High School stadium parking lot. You take out your old high school outfit and begin cock slapping her while listing all the times she ignored and slighted you.
>Take the gag-rag out of Joy's mouth, spit in her eye, wrap her hair around your hand a few times, yank her close, and swap tongue with her while mangling her by her hair, simultaneously groping and fingering her.
>Visions of V-Shakes and V-Fries dance in your mind. Make a quick de-tour to V-Burger so you can enjoy a nice post-abduction meal, you're famished! Pick up a Diet Velta-Cola for Mandie while you're at it.
>Give her Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith's strappado treatment, and suspend her from the ceiling with any chains, ropes and ligatures you have.
>Have a foursome with all of your whores!!!

>...The Yak. Like a horned bull, ready to strike if you get to close."

>Ho Sung, the rookie detective under your tutelage.
>Mr. Smith, Carolina's husband

>The bathroom. A rich girl like Joy should know what it's like to be chained to a toilet, and then forced to clean it - with her tongue. You'll install bars on the windows, just in case.

>Provisions for a mock exorcism. You'll take the demons out of this whore, using your own body if needed. But just in case, you brought a jug of "holy water"... Mandie's piss.

>Take the mayor's daughter to Hangman's Falls and show her a good time.

The next part should be extremely romantic nyeh heh heh

...Aaaaaand pencils down!

>>5484582
>>5484984
>>5486114
>>5486781
Thank you all for voting. Commencing writing now, I will try to have the update out soon. Hopefully with the luck of our three lovely, battered muses, it won't take much more than 24hrs.

>>5487651
The update is looking like it'll be another day, maybe two with my work schedule, but it's cooking up now, and it's gonna be a spicy meatball when it drops!

>>5489243
Don't you make me wait

>>5489246
Dammit I'm trying not to lol

>>5489298
I'll forgive you if you make it extra spicy

File: Spoiler Image (8 KB, 411x227)

8 KB PNG

>>5489357
Oh, it'll be spicy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the meantime... don't mind me.

testin
testes
tess sting
tasting
test
tset
TEZT
temst
what am i doing
t3st

>>5490887
Well then, where is it

File: I JUST WANTED TO FUCKING (...).gif (126 KB, 384x288)

126 KB GIF

>>5491066
Outline's been done for 24hrs+ already, update's over half written, but pesky work keeps getting in the way. Thinking of quitting so I can write smut full time.

I got home so tired last night I couldn't write, now I'm going right back to the meat grinder and won't have time to write this morning. Doesn't help that I'm rangebanned whenever I go into work because someone in the vicinity really likes to call jannies the n word, and gay, so I can only really post when I'm at home. Luckily my hours recently got cut lololol.

Also, my boys want to get drunk and play MtG tonight, can't really say no to that. Why the fuck did I ever go outside and make friends, I should've just stuck to compuutar...

Enough of my sob story/humble brag, Update is coming TONIGHT or TOMORROW MORNING, or god dammit, my name isn't Phey Zneldtar. And it's not, but the update is coming anyway. Even though it's not going to be muy rapido y caliente as I think we all wished, it'll be still be spicy for sure. ¡Muy, muy picante! Lo prometo.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>ROLL 1d20!!

"...Yeah, but look- I promise, this can help you out. The department would greatly appreciate your cooperation. If you would just-

"Why shouldn't I shout for the guard right now? This seems fishy! I've never heard of anything like this!" -Mr. Smith, incredulous, also whispering over the phone (for now).

Hiding your frustration: "Look, man, I'm sticking my neck out for you, don't you get that? I only threw you this offer because you're my neighbor and I feel like I can trust you." There was a frog in your throat you quickly cleared when you uttered the "T word". "Don't make me regret ever asking you, Mr. Smith... Don't you wanna see your kids again, and not just through the visiting room plexiglass?"

Mr. Smith thinks for a while - radio silence. Then, you hear Mr. Smith's clothing wrinkle and crunch as he moves around in his cell. "...My first name is Zebadiah. You... You're really gonna post my bail bond for me?" You can sense Mr. Smith's darting eyes, wrinkled forehead and fluttering heart through the phone. You can tell he's sweating, on the verge of tears and emotional breakthrough.

"$2,500 is a small price to free my good neighbor, an innocent man. When I took the oath to become a police officer, I swore I would never let justice cease breathing; that I'd punish the deserving, and stand up and fight for the innocent. You're innocent, right?" You don't give him a chance to answer your rhetoric. "Besides, when the case is over and you're deemed not guilty, I'll be able to reclaim the bail money. I really have no problem helping you out, just know that I can't legally put my own name on this. A police officer taking sides and freeing the people in his own holding cells before they even go on trial... That won't look good on VPD, and I'm sure you've seen what the Journal is doing to our reputation already. So please keep your mouth shut about all of this... But I seriously wanna help you out. I can even hook you up with an account to pay for Tuber rides to court if all your finances are tied up in the divorce proceedings. It may take some time, though."

"...What's the catch?" Zebadiah Smith isn't as dull as your average tool on your average construction site. But probably not by much, you reassure yourself.

"I... I might ask your help with some tiny errands here and there down the road. Stuff I know you can handle. Light work. Nothing big, I promise," you lie.

With confusion and a half-inflated ego: "What, like patching yer drywall, insulating yer attic, painting yer bathroom, er takin' care of leaks in yer basement?"

You'd never let this oaf in your torture castle, let alone any of the dungeons. "Yeeaahh... Stuff like that."

File: yakk0.jpg (86 KB, 612x408)

86 KB JPG

Zeb finally lets loose the floodgates. In a shushed sob, barely audible over your burner phone: "Oh my god... Thank you... thank you...oh my god... thank you..."

Finally something worth dipping into your savings for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All the girls are strapped in. In the basement, in the attic, in the master bathroom.

The house is calm, and so are you.

Sipping slowly on Mandie's morning macchiato with a macabre smile on your murderous maw, you remember last night for all of it's glory. As you "drink" two ounces of foam, and stare your thousand-mile stare at a blank wall, it's like... It's like you're there all over again!

...

"HANDS IN THE AIR, NOW! PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP, DON'T YOU FUCKING MOVE, BITCH, OR I WILL SHOOT! NOW- Slowly, yeah, like that, that's right... Yer... Yer under arrest..." Your head is pounding, you're sweating, and you're so erect that it hurts.

You're losing focus of the situation at hand, thinking of what's coming. The grip on your service revolver is firm, though, and the iron sights are dialed in on Joy's rhinoplast's masterpiece, a cute little button of a nose. There's no cartridges in the chamber, but she doesn't know that.

The cold alley air swishes swiftly past your bald head, and sweeps up Joy Kinov's skimpy rag of a skirt, as well as her platinum blonde hair. It's cold.

Joy is dumbfounded. Her mouth is agape. You feel an angry horniness as your cockhead swells, begging to burst. Your goosebumps dissolve. You grit your teeth and go hands on.

Whilst being cuffed, Joy protests as she wriggles. "Like, what did I do? What did I even, like, do?!?!?! Ughhhh!!! Like, get off me, you fucking loser!" You falter, and your eye twitches, but you continue. A split second after securing the cuffs, Joy stomps on your foot with her high heel and backwards-headbutts your aviator shades off of you.

A small wave of pain shocks you awake, intensifying your adrenaline tenfold.

She smashed your nose pretty hard. You look down both paths of the alley with a revengeful smile and caution in your eyes. No one there.

Eat brick, bitch. Head still spinning, you shove the cuffed woman into the red brick wall near the fire escape ladder. She bounces back like you kicked a soccer ball against the wall, and you utilize that momentum to grab the "resisting suspect" by her hair and her shirt. You toss her into a pile of slick, black, slimy, lumpy trash bags. No one responds to her cries.

Except you.

You bend to pick her up, and that's when you notice she busted your nose earlier. You drizzle rich red raindrops on her cold, pale white skin. You yank her up by an elbow, hurting her, judging by the response.

Joy frogmarches into her new fate, in the trunk of your Lincoln Continental. You drive off into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happens when fantasy meets real life? You've wanted to do this for years now. The idea comes and it goes, but the question always creeps back into your bald head. What if you were- no. Why weren't you successful in high school, like you are now? What if everyone realized you were a stud back then, too? What if all these girls wanted to fuck you back then, too? What if you could do it all over again? What if?

You already know from previous investigations that the only video camera on campus is fixed on the principal's office's front door. Taking out your khaki-armed senior letterman from your trunk, you hand the barely conscious Joy a Halloween store cheerleading outfit as you dress up and relive the old days. Looking at the embroidered red "V" on your letterman jacket, you're reminded of how everyone would wear their jacket to the football games at the stadium just behind you. You remember how Lon Lemmings was bullied out of his one day when you were home sick, then you remember Lon's grieving parents and his humble funeral, and your rage builds. Joy would make fun of you guys all the time, whenever she saw you passing by on campus. You rip Joy's top off, and replace her whore's skirt with a cheerleader's. Halfway through dressing the girl, your unsatisfiable lust questions what your mania is obsessing over, but relents when it sees how horny the vision of cheerleader Joy makes you, especially now that she's filled out with both a young woman's natural beauty, and $170,000 of expert plastic surgery.

You take the rag out of Joy's mouth, and she groans tenderly. You wrap a fistful of bleached blonde hair until your knuckles are squeezed as white as the hair, and you yank the bitch towards you while you insert your tongue in her lips. You french kiss with your eyes wide open and your other hand gropes a tit. Joy's eyes slam open and she begins to resist, so you bite her tongue for her. What? It didn't seem like she'd do it herself.

You gutpunch any rowdiness out of her as it comes, and practically fist her with four knuckles, to the effect of three body-shaking orgasms on her part. Your car is steamy, slimy and moist. It's time to get out of here. You stick the rag back in her mouth, turn your engine on, and contemplate K.O.'ing Joy again, but you decide to entertain yourself.

You take the rag out of her mouth but she can only meekly squeal and cower in fear.
"Remember me now, Joy? I'm dirtworm." You backhand her with her own juices still fresh on your knuckles and palm.
"I'M FAGGOT," slap.
"No? Still not ringing any bells?" You smack her pre-emptively, then shout, "It's me, the RETARD!"
"The kid you always said was picking his own butt, then boogers, then eating them?!?!!" Smack, smack, smack.
You begin chuckling with malice, "ho, ho, hoo, hoo, hooooooo..." It morphs. "ooooooonyeh heh heh heh heeeeeeheeeheeheeheee, nyeh heh heh HEEE!!!"
"It's me! It's me, the looooser!! You don't remember who the looooooser is?" You mock her by putting a big "L" on your forehead with your thumb and index finger, like she did to you and dozens of others, while calling them losers.

You're electricified. "Hmm, maybe it's because things have changed since high school, you spoiled little bitch! Let's have a look in the mirror, shall we?" You pull the mirror down from the passenger seat and show her what she's become. Rather, what she's already been on the inside. Hideous. You laugh until your stomach hurts and your eyes run dry.

"Ahhhhh... Let's go home, Joy." You see a glimmer of hope in her eyes, like this living nightmare is finally about to all be over. That barbs you.

Plainly: "Hahahahaha, no. Not back home with your daddy, mayor Jack'ov. Your new home. With your new daddy. Me." Her eyes die as you stare into them through the 2"x4" mirror.

"You'll be chained up around my toilet, licking my hairy asshole clean whenever I tell you." She finally closes her eyes shut, then whimpers without words, no longer in the condition to form and pass them through her lips in her current state.

(Total additional Suspicion gained from kidnapping Joy: 0.4, you devious, devious man, you.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All the girls are strapped in. To the Lincoln Continental, that is.

Mandie gets tested and trusted to sit in the passenger seat. Windows up, department-issued taser silently and stealthily at the ready, should you need to shock her back to reality. The reality of being your wench. The other girls are out of sight, locked in the wide trunk. Backing out of the driveway has never felt so good.

The kayak rattles around on top of the Lincoln quite a bit, because you didn't strap it down very well. You're not much of an outdoorsman. You justify it in your head by saying the extra noise is both a good cover for any noise the girls make, and perhaps oppresses and intimidates the girls.

File: yak1.jpg (139 KB, 1024x683)

139 KB JPG

*krattle-krattle-*

...

*krattle-krattle-krat-SCRAPEKLUNK-krattle-krattle-krattle-*

Alright, even you can't take much more of this. You crank the radio dial up. KTWRP's DJ Boogie Jay Skeeter was saying something about skateboards and how cool they are, but it just turned out to be a sneak attack-vertisement for Stiffy's Wood, a local skate shop. He doesn't even introduce the next song by name, which you wish he had, because it's something unlike you've ever heard, an exquisite hallmark to accompany this strange stage in life you never thought you'd be at.

youtube.com/watch?v=fFtgH5704Cw

Coming up to a tunnel that runs through the core of a black mountain, your radio cuts in and out, and your kayak begins rattling uncontrollably.

Emerging from the exit, you see the pine trees have thickened in number, bundling together to gossip about things only trees know.

A peal of thunder, miles distant, booms over the radio's static waves, which haven't returned since entering the tunnel. You suppose the radio tower doesn't reach that far, or perhaps the mountain is in the way momentarily.

Rain begins pouring.

The paved main road gives way to many dirt tributaries, all leading off to popular or obscure hiking and camping destinations. The path to Hangman's Falls is just a few minutes out... You look down at your fuel gauge - 1/3 of a tank. Gonna have to fuel up on the way home.

*SCRAPEKLUNK-krattle-krattle-KLUNK-krat-*

The storm winds whistle through the kayak. You never were able to get the radio signal back.

*KLUNNKK*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightfall creeps evermore periwinkle.

The skies clear and the rain retreats.

Rocky, muddy roads aren't awesome for the Lincoln's suspension, but you make it to the campsite just fine. Hours of work and "sex" pass, and you're all set up for the night.

Inhaling the ubiquitous pine scent relaxes you. With closed eyes and centered mind, you decide it's time to bring the girls out so they can enjoy the great outdoors with you. Mandie gets to come out first, since Black Rose is an obstinant, catatonic cunt, and Joy is still freaking the fuck out any time you remove her saran-wrapped "ball gag" made from a decades-old, used rubber plunger. No, you'll enjoy the great outdoors with your bottom bitch from the basement.

Her shackled ankles and wrists clink weakly with thin but hearty stainless steel chains. You prop up a camper's chair and anchor it on some mini boulders, intertwining the chains through machined, flimsy, black metal chair limbs and vigorous, gnarled tree roots, so that Mandie would need serious intervention to move more than a few feet from her seat.

She looks beautiful in the setting sun, even though she's dressed in your baggy Fink Ployed t-shirt and a pair of your plaid pajama bottoms, and has healing bruises and cuts in several places.

The crackle and POP of the campfire warms you up as you shuffle your hands together for heat. You're hungry for smores, and good pussy.

"Isn't this nice, Mandie?"

*krunch, krunch, krunch,*

Mandie doesn't get a chance to answer, you tell her to be quiet, and you quickly stare daggers in her eyes before getting up and unlocking the button on your department-issued holster. You produce your piece. You hope six rounds of thirty-eight special can handle whatever's coming towards you.

*Krunch, Krunch, Krunch,*

Your senses are going wild, tortured by not knowing what cometh.

From your campsite in the clearing, you look to the river produced by the lightly-roaring Hangman's Falls, and find nothing. You look up the lonesome mountain trail that drives further into the wilderness, and find nothing.

*Krunch, Krunch, KRUNCH.*

The noise stops. You stand in defiance, ready to protect what is yours. You think about shouting but you keep looking. First, you see only a single orange light the size of a firefly, above your eye level. A heavy, scratchy, burly voice belts out "What the flying fuck in tarnation? I thought I smelled smoke. Don't shoot! Heh heh heh. Just passin' through, folks."

A man with Seth Higgins' linebacker frame. No, bigger. And he's carrying a body slung over a single shoulder of his; a slim, lanky guy with a trendy fuccboi jewfro - the big man's holding him with one arm. Carrying a black duffel bag in his other, chewing on and smoking a cigar with his chiseled, rough lips. The carrier is clad in the furs, leathers, teeth and bones of several animals hodgepodged into a single uniform. He looks like a fantastical beast as he skids out from the pines and into the light. His stone face puffs smoke, cuts the wind and wears a midnight black eyepatch.

"Jarronimo Rodjers, ohmigod!" You toss Mandie the stink-eye before fear fully grips you. You didn't need her to inform you who Jarronimo is, the boys in blue at HQ talk about his Surviving America nature show on Channel 4 all the time, talking about how he can:
-Kill an elk with a crossbow from 500 meters away while blindfolded
-Start a fire using only his penis and kindling
-Sneak up on a pair of mating bobcats and kill both with his bare hands.
And that was just in Season 2! Sheesh. You're so tired of hearing about this guy. You're so not impressed. Okay, maybe you're just a little jealous.

File: yak3jarronimo.jpg (46 KB, 500x500)

46 KB JPG

The beast of a man corrects his path so he isn't walking directly through your campsite, and nonchalantly answers as he passes. "Sorry, don't mind this old fucker and this young buck on my shoulder, just doing a little exploring and shooting for my next documentary on how to live off of the land in these fuckin' trees." He hocks up a loogie and continues walking and talking without altering his path or moving his neck. "New camerapussy here wasn't up to snuff. Passed out after hiking only, ehhhh, 23 miles, only carrying a 40-lb. bag. They don't make 'em like they used to. Anyway, you two lovebirds enjoy the wilderness," Jarronimo grins, "and be reeeaaal safe, there ain't no one else out here for miles that I saw. She's all your's." He pauses and shoots you a glance. "The mountains, that is, har har har!"

On the way out, he's talking to the unconscious man on his shoulder. "Terry, you awake? Hey, Terry!! I'm hungry! I want a tomahawk steak for dinner, especially after carryin' yer sorry keister outta here all the way from the summit. Yer payin', too!"

*Krunch, krunch, k r u n c h.*

Mandie recognized him, but didn't say anything to him about being your basement wench.
Was that her feminist programming telling her not to rely on a strong man to save her?
Or was that her basement strappado programming kicking in, telling her that she doesn't need to be saved to begin with?

You sit your chair next to Mandie's and cuddle up with her, silently enjoying each others' company while the flame crackles and POPS. The other two girls are still chained up and locked in your trunk. You clatter another log onto the fire, sending a plume of smoke to get choked out by the towering trees and cool, slow winds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After some badass forest sex (it actually kinda sucked, you had to stand, so your knees were a little wobbly, even though you posted your arms against the 'yak rack on top of the Continental), and cumming straight into a campfire for the first time ever, and recovering from the proceeding post-nut complications, you decide it's time for the other girls to experience the crisp, brisk air of the mountains on a late Autumn night.

You walk 5 feet and pop the no-longer rocking trunk. The girls have been fraternizing in position 69 ever since you left this afternoon. Duct tape, rope, tits, and hair fill your eyes like a glowing treasure chest, containing the most coveted booty known to mankind.

Two sleeping beauties in the trunk, and another splayed out and reclined in your passenger seat. What a spree you've been on.

File: yakk123.jpg (25 KB, 612x406)

25 KB JPG

You can't wait for the daylight of tomorrow, when you will finally have your first proper orgy. You figure getting the girls to play nice will be easier to conduct under bright sunlight rather than the purple that covers the earth now. At the crack of dawn, you'll wake the girls up and have your way. You've earned it.

For now, you've got to secure the women, so they won't run away or try to kill you in your sleep. With all the time you have, and this being the only thing you want to do, you quintuple check all ropes, zip ties, ball gags, duct tape, saran wrap, cloth rags and metal chains. You have bells set up on ropes in a perimeter around the campsite and all over the tent to sound any unexpected, unauthorized movement. The women aren't going anywhere. You sleep in the Lincoln with the window cracked open after transporting the girls to the tent and performing a final sixth and seventh check on all three girls to make sure they won't ruin your vacation.

"Good night, master," was the last thing Mandie said to you while you were gagging her up.

How did you respond?
>"Good night, wench." Gag her.
>"Good night, my love." Mandie doesn't need a gag tonight, she'll be much more comfortable without it. Leave it off.
>"I am your master, but do not call me that. Good night." [Must choose one: (Gag/No gag?)] (Optional: "Call me (write-in)."
>Silence, emotionlessness. Gag her.
>Silence with an approving smile. Don't gag her.
>Write-in

Tomorrow, you'll have a ball. Besides the orgy, you've got lots of stuff planned. Stuff you've wanted to do for a long time, but never really had the friends or family to do it with, and never really wanted to do all by yourself.
[Pick (3) three non-orgy group activities for tomorrow.]
>Cook breakfast using fresh ingredients you forage in the mountains. (otherwise you're stuck eating g r a n o l a)
>Go kayaking around the small lake under Hangman's Falls.
>Trek up the mountain on a long day hike.
>Break out the outdoor badminton set from the trunk and have a few games.
>Teach the girls to play gin rummy.
>Take polaroid photos of each other at interesting places all over the Falls.
>Cook s'mores over the fire after sunset.
>Write-in (Maximum: 3)

You also reflect that the piss exorcism was a smashing success with Black Rose - she hasn't fought you all day, like Joy has. You brought more water jugs, so if Black Rose or either of the other girls act up, you have a discipline regimen in mind. Urine is easy to find, even in the great outdoors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

File: yak2.jpg (474 KB, 1920x1080)

474 KB JPG

[PERSPECTIVE SHIFT: Craigslist Killer -> Hired Henchman]

A tired, grizzly, proud, familiar mumble: "-can't get to the phone right now, I'm busy improving our fine city of Velton. Please leave me a message and my office will return your call as soon as they are able. God bless............... How do I turn this thing off? .............(murmurs)................ Huh? Oh!!" **BEEP**

You exhale.

"Mr. Kinov. It's Bill. Bill Breaker. This is urgent, call me back if you can. Just leaving a message to let you know I'm about to get into the Appalachians in a few minutes, and likely won't have phone service for a few hours, depending on what happens with this dirty rotten detective..."

Paranoia crawls over you like a swarm of baby spiders growing inside you after the mother already paralyzed you with her venom. You pause and think about what you're doing, not entirely sure it's the best choice for your career, or your safety. But you need that reward for Joy's safe return, to pay for Mama Breaker's treatments, or else...

The sun is setting.

You continue, "I know you don't believe anything the Journal says anymore - and trust me, neither do I, boss - but I've just got a bad feeling about the guy. His photo in the paper gave me the creeps... When you sent me to 'check up on him' after the first piece on him in the Journal, he seemed completely normal. Quiet guy, just doing his job, just like you thought - a hero cop. It really did just seem like a hitpiece from Zinger as a part of his campaign against you and the 'police brutality'. Now... I dunno, boss. I know you asked me to look into other marks, but I happened to pass by his house this morning... Purely out of curiosity, okay? I saw him through my binoculars, looking nervous and sweaty as he strapped a rickety old kayak to his beat up junker. Had no friggin' clue what he was doing, heh heh heh... He kept looking around, like he felt someone's eyes on him... I wonder what's got him acting like that, is all. Maybe he is a good guy, innocent like you say, but what if he's working for Zinger? What if he knows something about Joy's whereabouts? I just got this weird hunch, boss... I'm just gonna watch him for a while longer, see if he's really going kayaking... Then I'll come back to report to you tonight at the usual time."

You unbutton your shirt to breathe better, it's getting hot in your car. "As far as all the other suspects who we thought took Joy... Ronnie Nelson the butcher, he's actually a huge supporter of your campaign. He cried when he heard what happened to Joy, said he'd put up posters and help you look, offered to let me search everything he owned. Zinger is of course harder than ever track down. I'm still trying to set up a meeting with his secretary under false pretenses, but they've been ignoring my contacts, I feel like they're on to me. The jealous girl from Joy's geography class in senior year, who still comments on Joy's ChapSnizz with fake sock puppet accounts, Amanda Plau... I found her high on meth, sucking dick behind a dumpster. She had no clue what happened to Joy, trust me. Neither did the john. I broke all their fingers and toes, even a knee cap before I believed they really didn't know anything. Felt like a monster for that, Jack. But I'll do anything to get Joy back to you safe and sound. As for that Paul guy with the chlamydia she's been fucking with, he's clean, too, ironically e*BEEP*nough. FUCK, I WAS ALMOST FINISHED!"

A handsome woman's sultry, pre-recorded voice interrupts you. "Thank you for leaving a voice message. This phone number's voice message mailbox is now full and cannot accept any more messages. Thank you for calling. Goodbye ;).

Veins protrude from your sweaty, cracked forehead and steering-wheel-gripping wrists. Business has been slow these last few weeks. If you don't get cash fast, they're gonna kick ma out of her retirement village and stop checking her tubes and feeding her her meals and meds and changing her bedpan...

"Fuuuckk, man..."

Going 65 on the highway, you break down in tears while subconsciously decelerating. You're stuck thinking of all that woman has done for you since you were a boy, and how it's your turn, your duty to give something, anything back to her. An approaching car flashes its brights at you, then tailgates you for a minute. You speed back up to 65 miles per hour. Next, the driver honks at you several times and leaves his brights on, riding your ass even closer now, even though you're going the limit. The anger this causes you breaks you out of your tears and back to the reality of America's highway system. The other driver finally eases up a few feet, turns his brights off, turns his blinker on, and swishes past you in the opposite side of the double yellow lines on pavement, holding the horn the whole time, sticking a middle finger out his open window.

File: yak4breaker.jpg (23 KB, 500x335)

23 KB JPG

You sigh and look at your face in the rearview mirror, a look of plain discontent.

C'mon Bill. Focus. Something about this cop guy you're tracking is just... Off. Even if you can't put your finger on it. Hmm... What's the strategy? How else are you going to make 50 G's quick if you don't find the mayor's little brat? Those hospice care bills are stacking up, and ma, she... hnnngggg... Tears begin falling in your lap, the saltiness stings.
>Stay back and use the binoculars, don't approach under any circumstance. Just gather info on this creep to report.
>Confront this jagoff in the Appalachian wilderness, with no one for miles to hear his screams as you torture confessions out of him on tape. Even if he doesn't have Joy, you can get him to give you a "clue", that should be enough to get the mayor to cough up some dough for ma.
>Go back, just call it off, you've got the heebie jeebies. The mayor's given up on raising his whore daughter long, long ago. Just because she got kidnapped doesn't suddenly make it your job to save her - that's the police department's job. You have other contacts than the mayor you can do jobs for to make money for Mama Breaker's treatments. It'll be rough work, though, you're not as young as you used to be, and for the lower rates, you'll have to be much more active.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion Level: 8.61
(Vs. Avg./Mean of all rolls, +1)
(+1 to all player Sus Roll Averages while at Hangman's Falls)
Previous suspicion check: 13. Strong Pass!! -0.2 Suspicion! (already factored into current Sus level)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nature calls!
1-4 Human encounter
5-12 Animal encounter
13-20 Plant or environmental encounter
(All rolls get dually used for both this, and the Sus check!)

Coming up next: Aw shit, nigga, I just caught you reading spoilers. Now drop down and give me 10 pushups, or I'm raising your Sus level by 10.Jus' kiddin'. :-)Small spoilers ahead, not really actually spoilers though. But can't you just wait?Then again, I do make you guys wait a lot anyway, so I suppose I can give you a little peek... I guess... Coming up next: A full day of camping with the babes, a flashback to Black Rose's piss exorcism, Ho Sung's recruitment to Zinger, a [PERSPECTIVE SHIFT] examining the political implications of the mayor's daughter being kidnapped during an election, Zebadiah Smith goes to jail, and much, much more!

Lol I'm glad the only formatting I fucked up was at the end in the spoilers there.

Seriously, sorry for the wait and underestimating how long it would take me to get this update out. I hope the pace doesn't prevent you all from still enjoying the quest.

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>5494063
>Write-in
Ask her if she likes and wants to be gagged. Do what she prefers. Give her forehead a small kiss.

>Cook breakfast using fresh ingredients you forage in the mountains. (otherwise you're stuck eating g r a n o l a)
>Go kayaking around the small lake under Hangman's Falls.
>Play Truth or Dare or Twenty Questions
We should also begin training Mandie to become overseer of all the other girls. Show small favors and praise if she does well, punish her severely when she fails.

>Go back, just call it off, you've got the heebie jeebies. The mayor's given up on raising his whore daughter long, long ago. Just because she got kidnapped doesn't suddenly make it your job to save her - that's the police department's job. You have other contacts than the mayor you can do jobs for to make money for Mama Breaker's treatments. It'll be rough work, though, you're not as young as you used to be, and for the lower rates, you'll have to be much more active.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>5494063
>Write-in
Ask her if she likes and wants to be gagged. Do what she prefers. Give her forehead a small kiss.

>Go kayaking around the small lake under Hangman's Falls.
>Break out the outdoor badminton set from the trunk and have a few games.
>Cook s'mores over the fire after sunset.

>No. You're chasing ghosts. What if Joy wasn't kidnapped? What if she faked her ordeal to run away from her negligent father? Yes, this isn't the first time she tried to disappear either. Well in that case you wish her all the best. Keep an eye open for any sightings of her but for now, it's time to find a new job.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>5494168
Support

bumparoo

Closing the vote in ~36 hours.
It's still open until I say the danger word: "Rigatoni".

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>5494063
>Silence with an approving smile. Don't gag her.

>Go kayaking around the small lake under Hangman's Falls.
>Trek up the mountain on a long day hike.
>Take polaroid photos of each other at interesting places all over the Falls.
Move it ladies

>Go back, just call it off, you've got the heebie jeebies. The mayor's given up on raising his whore daughter long, long ago. Just because she got kidnapped doesn't suddenly make it your job to save her - that's the police department's job. You have other contacts than the mayor you can do jobs for to make money for Mama Breaker's treatments. It'll be rough work, though, you're not as young as you used to be, and for the lower rates, you'll have to be much more active.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>5494063
>"Good night, wench." Gag her.

>Cook breakfast using fresh ingredients you forage in the mountains. (otherwise you're stuck eating g r a n o l a)
>Take polaroid photos of each other at interesting places all over the Falls.
>Play Truth or Dare or Twenty Questions

>Go back, just call it off, you've got the heebie jeebies. The mayor's given up on raising his whore daughter long, long ago. Just because she got kidnapped doesn't suddenly make it your job to save her - that's the police department's job. You have other contacts than the mayor you can do jobs for to make money for Mama Breaker's treatments. It'll be rough work, though, you're not as young as you used to be, and for the lower rates, you'll have to be much more active.

Do we get orgy requests? Let's have several contests between the ladies, winner gets.... fed today. Or maybe we can have another Mandie POV.

>>5494923
Will we get any follow up from Dr. Lipschitz info roll?

Ricotta! Hachoooo!!

Leaving vote open for 9 more hours from the time that this post is... posted.

>>5495261
Yes, thank you for reminding me!

File: so hung.jpg (305 KB, 1707x2560)

305 KB JPG

Rigatoni.

>>5497388
Update ETA?

>>5499181
Shooting for tomorrow night

>>5499338
(Still writing)

>>5501298
Tick tock

>>5503708
Sorry, the holly, jolly spirit is giving me some bad writer's block. Going to try to get the update out as soon as I can.

>>5505753
I'm going to lock you up

Not gonna lie or make excuses, I've been playing Magic the Gathering Arena nonstop for a week, I think I need serious help.

Will resume writing... soon... . . . . . .

>>5511504
I swear if you don't get at least one more update out.......

>>5511504
COME ON, WRITE YOU LAZY FUCK
Or I will share your discord tag EVERYWHERE and you WILL get UNSOLICITED DICK PICS and SKINNED DOGS in your dms if you don't UPDATE this year.

>>5511865
I SECOND this PATRIOT. You have ONE DAY, Fae.

>>5511504
You have failed us all smelly

It's all ogre. Fae became a discord user.

>>5511504
If you like card games, you should definitely try roguelike deckbuilders like Slay the Spire or Alina of the Arena!

Once you finish writing, of course

File: OP.png (19 KB, 1240x525)

19 KB PNG

Oh what could've been...

Sorry, guys, I just think the writing bug crawled out of my butt for a few weeks. I'm sure it'll crawl back up real soon. Thanks for all the love and concern <3.

>>5515009
Played Slay the Spire recently and I'm somewhat tired of it, but it's still amusing to me. Solid game overall. Will check out the latter.

A few years back I tried making a TCG game, spent +200 hours on art, mechanics, rules, files, set releases, pricing etc., then just kind of dumped it. Maybe because I kept it to myself and didn't have anyone to encourage me by calling me a lazy fuck and telling me it's all ogre.

Maybe it's just not my calling in life. Maybe this isn't either. But then again, I think just need to get the fuck back to work on the creative stuff I'm passionate about before I end up doing lame menial shit I don't care about. It feels weird to me to make a living off of entertainment though, such as writing or games or video or music. Like I should be doing something more for mankind than just entertain them. But everything else just doesn't seem like a good fit.

...

Anyway, before my whiny fucking blog post gets too long, expect the new thread in 2-14 days, or my name ain't Aunt Jemimah Flocka Flame (and it's not).

>>5515250
Archive this then