Sunday, April 11, 2021


Hey-o Mal-Pals! I don't have a whole lot to say, though there have been a few happy developments since I last posted! I have just started on the final chapter of the Julie and Sue adventure, but it is slow going. I have other pursuits these days! I originally intended to annoy her with another silly ending, but have thought of a strong conclusion that I hope will illicit a better reaction. I'll write the original ending at the end of this, because it's too good to stay in my head, and that's what this blog is for. But before that I should fill you in on what's occupying my time! This really will be a checklist of things going on with me rather than anything with a point, more a journal entry than an article. I hope that's okay!

First off, my Reddit game is stronger than ever. I had a frank conversation with Babycakes, letting her know that I enjoyed playing with her but she was so submissive and amenable that I was struggling to know what she wanted or whether she was truly enjoying any given move I made or if she was just placating me. We shared some truths about ourselves and now we're closer than ever and both getting something out of it. She's very smart and will now let me know when something's bothering her whilst still staying in character. We had this exchange earlier, set in a Chinese restaurant, that I enjoyed very much:

Me: It's very satisfying watching you tuck in! You seem to be wearing a good deal of it too! And there's some on the table and the floor... My first idea was to bring home a large set meal, but this was so much better, someone else can deal with some of your mess for once!

Her: I’m sure I can help with some of that, Daddy. I put it there, I can do a second pass at getting it inside me.

I imagine you'll do okay slurping errant noodles off the table and sucking sauce out of your hair, but people will probably object to you getting on all fours and eating rice off the carpet, wiggling your diapered bottom in the air. I would like the option to bring you back, so don't get us kicked out! Or worse! Do you know what happens to bad Chinese boys and girls?

There’s an interesting question. Are we talking the majority Han, or oppressed minorities such as Tibetans or Uighurs? The big cities such as Shanghai or Beijing or the various provinces? Big place, China. Hugely diverse population, with a whole range of different traditions. So, yes, lots of things, but which specific bad things would require a finer brush than one that paints all 1.4 billion at once, to say nothing of the half a billion expatriates.

I’ll try not to get us thrown out, Daddy.

I certainly hope you're not implying I was about to be racist, or to over-generalize! I like to think I'm fairly liberal and forward thinking! I know I was a little silly pretending not to recognise your foreign words earlier, but that was self depreciation rather than homophobia. And you obviously know a lot more than I do about Chinese culture, I wouldn't want to offend you!

Oh, not in the slightest, Daddy. I’m extremely hard to offend, though we do share outlook and intent. Though my backside may indeed be the most offensive thing in the room. I can’t really tell. I’ll get on with the eating. Table scraps fine, floor a no go.

And I'll make a second trip to the buffet. I was going to say they have to report to Hunan resources.

You can see why I love her, right? Kinky and creative, smart and good with words, she knows what she wants but will do whatever I tell her. It's brilliant playing with her. She groaned at my joke and fired back with a pun of her own. She's awesome.

On Friday I reached out to a young lady looking for some unusual punishment from her mother. I told her I was happy to play her Mommy and suggested a further punishment I was sure she would go for. It's my first time playing only as a woman and it I'm pretty good at it! Turns out being a single mother is actually a piece of piss!

On Saturday morning I woke to a simple request from a new playmate: "Will you put me in my first adult diaper?" What a positive start to the day! We've swapped a few messages about what exactly she wants from the role play and I've hit the jackpot; she doesn't need diapers but she's looking for a dominant Daddy to force her into them and humiliate her, forcing her to use them, treating her like a pet or an object, lots of teasing, all the good stuff! I showed her my kinklist and she had no concerns, I'm waiting for her to get back to me and then I'm going to bring sexy Hell down upon her!

Best of all, Stinky Lips came back to me after 12 days radio silence, saying she's been busy! Women! I welcomed her back like the prodigal son, tricking her into falling for a filthy prank I started laying the groundwork for a fortnight ago! She really will take no end of abuse, it's fantastic.

Now it's Sunday morning (writing this has been slow going, I have my hands full!) and my trans friend is also asking to play after a week's rest! I'm back playing her Daddy and also her soon-to-be-babysitter. I play a bar owner with Stinky Lips and also the staff and other customers for her. I guess it's a bit like being the dungeon master in D&D, a game I've long wanted to play but never have. I tried an online game once, creating a character and everything, but couldn't convince anyone to include a noob in their game. It's a big time commitment. I expect DirtyPenPals is more fun anyway! (EDIT: She soon pushed me out the door and is enjoying some one on one time with the female babysitter, who I think she fancies a little! I've been dropped in favour of my own alter ego!)

So in a couple of days I went from having one difficult active long term partner to three easy long term ones, an enthusiastic newbie and a promising lead! Not too shabby!

Outside of Reddit things are going well too. I've had a couple of matches on Bumble, meaning at least a couple of girls like my face and the cut of my jib! I don't use the app, but it alerts you when someone likes you and tells you to pay to find out who. I've ignored this and swiped right on the first picture in my stream both times and hey, what do you know, it's been a match! I feel like Neo looking round the Matrix and seeing nothing but green code; I've hacked the system!

Once you have a match the girl has 24 hours to initiate a conversation; there's nothing much the guys can do. It makes the idea of choice really difficult; I only really turn down girls that are too into fake tan and airbrushing, we clearly wouldn't click. I also turn down girls who only post pictures of themselves with friends; sometimes there's four pictures of a girl and in every one she's got one or two similar looking friends squeezed up against her for a selfie. I'm not really bothered about looks, but if a girl is going to make you solve a puzzle to figure out what her face looks like then I'd rather not make the effort and find someone a little more considerate, or at least smarter about selling themselves!

When Bumble has alerted me I usually go through the first dozen or so profiles, but fatigue soon sets in. The sets of pictures girls present are eerily similar; mostly taking advantage of our local scenery by showing them on the summit of a craggy hill, then paddle boarding, then holding a large cocktail at a social gathering and finally a holiday snap from somewhere exotic. It seems every woman wants you to think they're Lara Croft; maybe it's because of COVID that every girl is wanting someone to take them travelling and busy outdoors, or maybe the girls that just want to veg out watching Impractical Jokers get snapped up right away!

I could only find two recent-ish photos of me, both about five years old, but I can't really put up a photo of me in bed with long untidy hair and a few days growth for a beard! One's a photo I took on Italy with Michelangelo's David in the background; the comparison probably does me no favours! The other photo is me at work, lifted from the Facebook page of my last job. I was never one for taking photos, except on holiday!

My previous match deleted her account, hopefully she found someone who clicked with her better than I did! I can't say I'll miss her monosyllabic replies much, and I'm not in the best position to start a real relationship with a woman with three kids under the age of five! I should just keep the app open, blindly swiping right. I saw a video once where someone had stuck a sausage on the end of a drill so that it would just keep swiping right on their phone quickly and without discrimination. I imagine the more people you like the more people the algorithm tries to set you up with. To paraphrase Orwell, if you want a picture of the future, imagine a machine dragging a sausage across a human face - forever!

The Tankerton action figure, available with pre-accident laundry playset or rare rehab variant with wheelchair accessory

I even had a message from a genuine girl on, on the last day of my membership! I could complain to the company that runs the site and get a month free, but I was happy just deleting my account. I had sent this girl a message a couple of weeks ago, it was a three sentences long, complimenting her leather jacket and asking how she was doing, in response to a message sent by the website but made to look as if it was from her. She wrote back "Hi." I wrote back explaining the site led me to believe she was more interested than she was, but thought she seemed cool and was glad she wanted to chat. I also asked if she had any weekend plans. She wrote back "OK." The next day I withdrew consent, meaning my account was completely removed and I'll never be contacted again. No love lost there!

I did copy some of the messages the site sent on behalf of their customers. I heartily disapprove of this practice, you have to pay to read messages, and to read the only information on this practice you have to go into your settings, and then open the advanced settings page. You can then toggle this feature on and off. Introductory messages the site sends are marked with a subtle paper airplane, it'll send them to anyone whose profile you look at. It sounds harmless, but you have to pay to read messages, even the ones created by a machine, and some of them really misrepresent the customer. Imagine you had an account and you were unwittingly sending the following messages to anyone who looked at your profile. The message the site was sending on my behalf was "Hey! We might be a good match, get in touch please.. x" Not particularly cringe-y, I got off light, though I never, ever use the letter x to represent a kiss, not even in greeting cards. I got off lucky though, I copied ten out of the two or three dozen I got, I don't think any of them represent the customer especially well. I've put the worst ones last:

Send me a quick message back How are you? If you like my profile and think we could be a good match then send me a quick message, thanks.

Nice profile Really like your profile and would love to connect. Hope to hear from you soon.

Send me a quick message I’ve just logged onto my profile, so available to chat if you want to send me a message x

I’m looking for someone who ticks all my boxes, have a look at my profile. Is this a subtle innuendo or am I just very dirty?

Hey, I’m here looking for the ‘one’, please come and chat with me. Sounds a little desperate, maybe the girl is just looking for a fling or a fun relationship. Most girls on the site are in their twenties, I don't think many of them are expecting to meet their soulmate!

Do cheesy chat up lines work on you? I won't embarrass myself just in case haha but I just wanted to say hi :o) A definite turn for the worse, there's no way I would introduce myself this way and I can't imagine many women would either. It's like a pre-teen's idea of playing it cool is, right down to the old school emoticon.

I bet you £10 you're gonna turn me down lol Hi there. Great profile. Would love to  Hope to hear from you soon 🙂 x So you owe me money if I chat to you? A lol, a kiss, a smiley, and an incomplete sentence? Poorly constructed and over eager!

Hi baby, come and kickstart my heart! Cringe!

Hey there, please don't give me a've got fine written all over you ;-P It's bad enough using stale old pickup lines, but they've bungled the execution. The ticket has fine written on it, not the ticket giver! Atrocious.

Hi gorgeous, pour some sugar on me, in the name of love Hands down my favourite. The women that are supposedly sending these messages are generally in their twenties. They're using a dating app. They're British (I know the band are from Sheffield, but the song did much better on the American charts). What are the chances they're Def Leppard fans? Maybe it's because it's a disabled dating site and the drummer had one arm? Aside from that, what do those words actually mean? According to Wikipedia they're the result of one band member trying to interpret the stream of consciousness nonsense another member spouted into a dictaphone. They're hard to make out on the song. Weird and over eager.

So yeah, irresponsible at best, predatory at worst, especially as some members have some degree of mental illness. By definition everyone on the site is lonely to some extent. These are just the sort of people that are going to hope for the best when they see there are several messages supposedly sent to them, and after a while who wouldn't be curious enough to look?

Talking of predators, my scammer wrote to me when my parents were visiting last week. I wrote her back a little after they went, asking how she was and what her favourite soup is. She didn't write back, I guess I was too slow. I'm happy to keep stringing her along for as long as she mistakes me for a mark.

The only other turd in my punchbowl has been Jane, the head cleaner here at the home. She really doesn't like me much! She doesn't like that I have a lot of small boxes and a stack of comic books (trade paperbacks, not single issues!). It's not a huge amount, but I've been living here for seven months, and I signed up for some subscription boxes before coming here, so I've had them redirected to me here. I wouldn't have subscribed if I knew I was coming here. I didn't ask to come here. Nobody told me they were planning on sending me to a care home in a different county, a further hour away from the only visitors I ever have. If they had been honest about this place then I'd never have agreed to come here at all. I do buy action figures and the like, but I doubt I make many more purchases than any other single guy in his early thirties. The only difference is I have to do all my shopping online and I can't tidy stuff away myself. There are two wardrobes, and my parents will put statues and figures on top of them. There's no shelving. There's only one chair for visitors. There used to be two more, suitable for physiotherapy, and the one time a physiotherapist came she made notes on both of them. Jane took them away last week, which is fair enough as I wasn't using them, but now my room looks very bare bones. All my stuff is stacked up in the corner. I'd love some shelves, but it's not my house! Maybe I should buy some plastic ones you can easily assemble and disassemble.

I only ever see Jane on a Saturday and it's always a drag. She's one of those people who always seem snappy and stressed out. Maybe she needs a holiday. A misogynist would say she needs to get laid. Whatever her deal is she's pretty fucking rude! Last week Jane asked me if my parents ever went to my flat. I said they don't, but they could. She asked why they never take my things away with them, I said because I've never asked them to! Yesterday she told me that she should have a couple of big boxes to put all my things into on a week from Tuesday, like that was something to look forward to. This is my home for the indefinite future. I'm as keen on leaving as anyone, but I've been here over seven months and no real effort has been made to find somewhere else for me to go to. If I see a bargain I'm going to snap it up; I have the money and there's plenty of space in here. I'm paying towards the cost of keeping me here, hundreds of pounds a month I wouldn't have to shell out of I were still in the flat. I don't appreciate her making me feel like an unwelcome guest.

I think it's funny! The inflatable ring is based on Fin Fang Foom!

The kind of toys I buy are generally made in limited numbers, and so only ever tend to go up in price. I'd lose money waiting until I got out to buy them. Most of my toys cost me between £5 and £40. Some I got cheaper still, one of two cost a little more and there are three big ticket items. I have a statue of Kidpool in a kiddie pool that cost me £200, a statue of Mike Ehrmantraut I paid £80 for on Black Friday that would cost £250 to replace, and a Batman & Joker statue that arrived this week. I paid £70 to have it delivered from China and strongly suspect it's a knock-off; the packaging is high quality but mainly in Chinese, the little English on it leads me to believe DC comics didn't sign off on it! It looks good from what I can see, my parents will help me get it out the box tomorrow. I don't really care if it's unauthorised as long as it looks just like the real thing. I don't know how profitable it can be to make such good replicas; the only way I can figure it makes sense is if the factory producing a limited number of statues for a supplier then uses the same moulds and paint set up to produce more and sell them off their own back. Presumably the supplier will then never use the company again though? The box it's in is made of high quality glossy card, printed on inside and out, with a large plastic window. I don't know how making money this way works!

The detail on this thing is incredible; you can make out all the individual teeth on the zip on his jacket!

My point is that I'm not a hoarder, nor am I compulsively buying treasures that I can't afford. I like having cool things that make me smile, a couple of years ago I had practically nothing at all. There's subscription boxes in my wardrobe I was putting aside for Christmas that I still haven't opened because Jane makes me feel bad. There's a box in the corner that I had imported from Australia that has 9 or 10 products in; there were 8 Marvel Zombie figures going cheap that you can't get in the UK and then the site had some other bargains too! I can't remember exactly what I bought, and I haven't opened it either. Fuck that, I've decided whilst writing this! It arrived five or six weeks ago and I haven't opened it out of embarrassment. I spent £200 on it and then £75 in custom fees, but still did say better than buying them from anywhere else! I'm opening that box tomorrow!

The other cleaners are friendly and polite; they appreciate that I'll let them do their thing without making a fuss, I appreciate them cleaning my room and chatting to me. Jane just doesn't get it. When I moved here I took a rolling over-the-bed table. It is divided into three parts. The middle bit tilts and has a rim, I keep my laptop, mobile and tablet there. On the left hand side I'll keep a drink or two. I have a mouse I used to use on the right hand side, but this bed is terrible for sitting up and doing that, so it is generally empty. When they bring me meals I have them put them there. This system works fine. The home provides a much smaller, cheaper over-the-bed table that doesn't have wheels. From Day One I've kept upon it my sleep aponea machine, books I am reading, pens, mail I'm given, a few small odds and ends from collection boxes, and things I want to show my brother on the family Zoom meeting. Jane is the only one who's had a problem with this, telling me a few times the table is supposed to be used for meals. I tell her I have an allocated space for meals the cleaners are happy to clean. I don't want to wait for a staff member every time I fancy reading a book. When I feel I'm about to fall asleep I need to put my mask on before I now off; I can't afford to wait for a nurse to bring the machine. I'm sure the carers wouldn't want me ringing them for these things anyway. Jane says the table should be kept bare so they can clean it daily. She can fuck off, frankly!

She never shuts the door to my room, even if I ask her to, she just hoovers her way out and continues in the hallway. Obviously I can hear this, plus there is an alarm outside that sounds whenever anyone on this floor rings a call bell for assistance, so pretty much all day. I share a wall with a laundry which is in constant use (I can hear it now, it's 11pm!). I often watch TV with loud noises and bad language. For these reasons I keep the door shut all the time.  I don't know if she does it deliberately or genuinely can't hear me when hoovering. She could leave the door how she found it regardless.

One Saturday she actually acted as a carer, she had the uniform and everything. I was terrified she'd changed positions; it's bad enough seeing her five minutes a week, I don't want to depend on her. I asked for her help one time that day, I needed a hand using a urine bottle. She asked me how I coped at home when I needed to go, there was a real edge to her voice. I told her I had a different system and didn't elaborate. It's none of her business. I've stopped feeling embarrassed about needing assistance in that, but it still feels bad explaining to new staff that I'm incapable of doing it myself. Nobody else here has ever questioned it or made me feel like they resent doing it. Screw her.

Most of the other staff are all right, some are permanently miserable and have a running-out-the-clock attitude, wordlessly doing what you ask and disappearing. The manager hasn't been to see me after my last SVT episode even though the head carer wrote a report about my concerns and gave it to her in writing, asking her to see me. It's the second issue I've had in seven months, it's not like I'm a burden on her time. I won't miss this place when I'm gone, but I don't want to be treated as if I'm leaving tomorrow when I've got nowhere else to go!

My post from Monday continues to rack up more and more page views. It's become twice as popular as my next read post, the first one linked to by Strict Julie. I don't know why it's so sticky! I've been exploring the Stats section for my blog for the first time, it's kind of interesting. Obviously the majority of my traffic has come from Julie, but I'm interested in the outliers.

Two people have come over here from Reddit. One is definitely Babycakes, my best guess for the other is a moderator who deleted my post for providing links to a page with photos of real people. It's a strange rule, lots of people mention celebrities and ask for reference photos, but you can't post any. You obviously can elsewhere on Reddit. It's weird. I also gave a link to my trans friend, to let her know I have medical issues and may not always be super quick responding, and to justify my slacking off last weekend when I felt kind of shoddy! Alyssa, the lesbian I talked into a real diaper, was also given a link when I wrote about her. Strict Julie opined at the time that there was she would have enough interest in my write up to visit the blog, but it looks as though she was less curious than Julie predicted!

You can track my site visits here; the two large spikes are the two times Julie linked to me on her blog:

My blog has been accessed more via Bing than Google, which I wouldn't have predicted.  29 through Bing and 12 through Google, small numbers, but significant enough. This is extra weird because 56% of my readers use Google Chrome. There are a lot of browsers listed that count for less than one percent, and still a category marked "Other" that also account for less than one percent tofal. Silk, the default browser on Amazon devices, is listed as less than one percent. Microsoft Edge isn't even listed, which surprises me. I assumed SOMEONE was using it! I guess you're all too hip!

Half my page views are from Americans, one eighth British, another eight are French. 7% are Canadian, then there are a smattering of visits from countries all over the globe. It's probably unwise to share how relatively small my blog is, but I never expected the numbers I'm getting. I don't know if I'd keep coming back here if someone else wrote it. It wasn't built to be popular. Three months ago nobody from New Zealand, Norway or Czechia knew about my trials and tribulations, my kinks and my jokes about the kid from Stranger Things' prank show. Now someone does. That's kind of cool!

Most interesting of all, someone came via Bing by searching for Blogspot sites written in English containing the words butt plug. I assumed there were dozens of thousands of pages that fit that criteria, so I had to go on Bing and see what's up! The link suggested my site was on page nine when the visitor found me. I found there were 46,000 sites, and I had ascended the rankings and was right at the bottom (!) of page eight! I guess they found what they wanted because they read 26 pages! A similar link showed I was briefly in  the top 20 of 134,000 English Blogspot pages containing the word dildo! I don't know why that is!

I nearly wrapped this post up without writing the story ending I've decided not to use for my next yarn. Consider it a kind of deleted scene. I had a little back and forth with The Strict One earlier when I left some long comments on her excellent latest post. I ruffled her feathers by using the term prostitute rather than sex worker, and she considered that derogatory, and because she inferred from one comment that I meant sex workers are the poorest and least educated people in society, when I meant that shutting down websites that allow them to communicate and share education will have the biggest impact on the poorest and least educated sex workers; specifically meaning those that hadn't learned how to hustle safely. For my part, I inferred from her article that she thought prostitution could be an easy money earner and that she was struggling to empathise with those in the industry, so when she asked for comments about "getting paid for it" I found I had a lot to say! We're basically 100% in agreement about what the industry should look like and obviously aware of some of the dangers a girl faces. She thought I was being bleak, I thought her fantasy was a poor portrayal of a typical hooker who sees sex work as her only valid option. We were both right, I think, our opinions coloured by our life experience; mine as a down and out and hers as a client and friend of some respectable high end workers. She illustrated her fantasy with this photo:

but when I read her setup my mind leapt to:

I think that tells you all you need to know!

I wasn't sure if she'd received my comments or whether they were still too long for Blogger; I'd already split my thoughts into three posts! She told me she had and warned me I was in for an earful! I was on shaky ground already, she complained I wasn't indulging her sub side last weekend and then in the middle of the week I took her to task (playfully) over a couple of her comments and reminded me she still owed me her real world punishment! I tried to tempt her with a further punishment she could conduct with her husband in the house, that he'd never know about, but she balked at it. Fair enough! But I was worried about incurring a third strike. The Strict Julie moniker is not an ironic one!

Whilst we're on the subject, there has been some questions asked in my comments about whether or not Julie's husband reads her blog. She says he doesn't, as far as she knows. I see no reason to doubt her. I want to make it clear that whilst we swap a few emails a week she tells me very few specifics about her life, most of what she tells me she's already posted on or alluded to on her blog. A few things I've told her I suspect she's tactfully ignored. Just about anything I do know she would probably tell you if you e-mailed her. If I did know a secret she was keeping from her audience I wouldn't share it here. The only exception I'd make is if she specifically asked me to tell something. Sometimes she'll act as if she's embarrassed I mentioned something but it'll always be done as a game; if she truly objected to something I'd take it down. A couple of times I've stolen pictures of her bottom to use on my site and she's taken credit for them in the comments. I wouldn't post a photo you can't see on her site unless she asked me to, she hasn't sent me any, I would not ask for one. I use language to insult her I've never used on another woman, this is something she actively encourages me to do. Today I called her a dizzy bint, this is not a phrase I've ever used before. We're essentially two friends with a mutual appreciation of each other's writing and who like it when her bottom hurts.

I can't mention her bottom and not show it to you! She looks great in the uniform, like she's auditioning for a part on Degrassi!

As for the story:

Julie left her sister's apartment rubbing her poor throbbing bottom but grinning from ear to ear. She couldn't wait to get home and show her husband what she'd learnt, taking his cock over and over again, letting him spank her ass roughly and penetrate it harder still. She was looking forward to showing him some of the tricks her sister had taught her, and to tell him some of the different sensations she had felt as Sue played with her litany of items. She wondered if there was a trick she could learn her sister didn't know about. She'd once read a book in which a man had hot wax from a candle dribbled on his bare chest, she wondered if David would enjoy pouring a little on to her naked backside?

As she waited for her husband she noticed a small cardboard box left in the centre of a vacant lot. She went to examine it; it had been roughly cut open and left unsealed. She frowned and looked around; who could have left it there?

Curiosity got the better of her and she opened the box tentatively. What she saw took her breath away; an ornate silver tiara, inlaid with giant sapphires! The craftsmanship was impeccable, it was super thin in places, as if spun by a spider. She pulled it from the box, it was heavier than she expected and when the daylight caught it the whole thing dazzled. She felt compelled to try it on, and gasped at how well it fit her head, as if it were made for her! She felt strangely powerful, and a small flock of birds she hadn't noticed before started singing her name - "Ju-lie! Ju-lie!"

Julie picked up the box, hoping it would help her identify the rightful owner of this priceless artefact. All she could find was a warm breakfast sandwich and four hundred and thirty dollars cash! She bit in to the sandwich, her taste buds exploding as they sampled a symphony of flavour. She could taste fried egg, homemade pesto, parmesan, and artisanal sausage, all nestled inside crusty sourdough bread. It was the best thing she'd ever eaten! "What an incredible morning," she thought. "I can't remember feeling so completely satisf ied."

The End



  1. Well, you might know more about my childhood nocturnal habits with Doggy than almost anybody else? Thank goodness you have not spilled the beans. I might never forgive you...

    And this new ending sounds about right. It's sort of what I expect from life, care home boy.

    1. and you know very well what happens when you spill the peas...

    2. That's right, Julie! Give peas a chance!

  2. As j.stern says, we all remember that from your blog, there's no need for me to repeat it here.

    And that's the ending you won't be getting, my dear! I hope the canonical one lives up to your expectations though!


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