Author: humanproxything

Fixing the Schism [M/F] [Inc] [Oral]

“…and don’t take her anywhere too rowdy. I know you and she knows I’m going to ask! Just do something quiet! You’re not impressing anyone with being showy. She’s not impressed. I’m not impressed. And the judge sure as hell isn’t going to be impressed! Are you listening? You’re sitting there like a goddamn tree again.”

As the droning paused for a response, he unclenched his jaw and opened his eyes, now bringing the phone closer to his ear. In the moment of respite, he could finally get a word in. *Fuck me, how does she talk this long?* He groaned internally, hesitant to let it be heard.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” he grumbled flatly. He peeked through the window, hoping to see the car rolling into the parking lot below so this sermon could finally be over. He almost felt himself dissociating during these long rants about his parenting ability. Hell, any rant at all coming from this woman would be enough to make him uneasy and dead-eyed. “You’re really still going on about that? Look, Ellie was doing fine she just didn’t hold on to the rei-“

“Her *name* is Amelia. And I don’t care how well she was doing! It’s a goddamn animal!” Read more »

Malpractice [M/F] [Addiction] [Corruption]

Twenty-third meeting. Forty-one injections. Numerous drugs. She’s was descending into a deep dependence that had only begun to tear her apart. The highs became everything to her so that her miserable circumstances became little inconvenience. She hadn’t yet become a fiend, but they were now past the point where she’d do nearly anything for another hit. He considered dumping her off and starting over with someone new, but she managed to keep him hooked. Something about her made him hesitate to discard this project. Alone, she’d devolve into something even more pitiful than she was now. It was still important that it was his hand on the needle. Anyone else would make it worse. Junkies were never known for steady hands and patience. Doctors, however.

“Nnn! Mmm, agh,” she moaned pathetically from the bed with wrists and ankles strapped. His eyes lift from the ugly carpeting and fall upon her like birds eyeing a corpse to pick clean. Her thin body shone pale and pretty against the dark covers of the bedspread. A curled up skeleton upon a mound of dirt, is what he imagined. Parts of her were a deeper red. Some from the blushing. Some from the slaps and spanks and nails. Slick wet spots gleamed in the dim light around her eyes, her mouth, her little perked nipples, and the inside of her thighs was a sopping mess. Deep, purpled bruises spotted the same parts like flecks of chocolate in the vanilla. His stomach twisted with the reminder of his actions. It was beautiful and horrible work, tearing someone apart. Read more »