I’ve never really met my father.
My childhood’s a blurry thing in my mind and it bothers me that I can’t remember most of it. It’s not that I care much for my childhood memories, but I take the loss of them very personally. It’s a blow to my pride that I can’t recall simple things like shitting myself and screaming when I can remember the exact shape of some barmaid’s tits from squeezing them once or twice.
Prioritizing. I’ve always hated politician-words like that, but there it is. I can’t prioritize. I’ve always been all over the place.
But I do remember some things from my younger days. Much younger days.
Most people look at my Clan and think ‘hey, a doggy-friend for life and the ability to smell it when my girlfriend’s getting wet’ and think; great. Nobody ever thinks about the flipside.
The flipside’s the instincts.
No Inuzuka will ever take a lesser creature as their mate. I’ll gladly mount the simple girls and townswomen, but they’ll never be my equals. There’s nothing serious about knocking up some meek mayor’s wife in a dark alley behind the tavern. The common folks amuse me and the sounds they make in their forbidden pleasure gives me pleasure. But apes experience momentary release. I will not settle for that.
My mother had the same problem, but from the other end of the line.
Being a Kunoichi meant surpassing all ‘normal’ women in every conceivable skill. Ninjas underestimate the effects of chakra due to its normalcy among their ranks, but even the strongest civilian came tumbling down when pitted against my mother. She could’ve chosen a Shinobi as her mate to ‘solve’ the problem, but the old bitch had three layers to her.
The outer layer was the result of her upbringing, the hard shell if so to speak. All the sensitive guys bailed when she barred her fangs or showed some skin in public. Mother liked being the center of attention and she was a fine woman, or so I’m told. The outer layer was raw and unobtainable, terrible, ruthless and oozing of ***. Always a hairsbreadth out of emotional reach, but anyone who wanted Third didn’t give two shits about that.
I’ve met many ‘third layer’ broads in my time and all of them wanted a challenge. They’re the ones with the trust-issues, the abusive fathers and the tendency to scratch when you take them harder than they’re used to. They’re a joy for a time, but eventually you realize that you’re just one of many to have made her scream and arch while her two kids are in the next room, or while she’s sniffing Little B from a crumpled Ryo bill, or while she’s crying and sobbing, shameful in her pleasure. The Thirds are shards of glass and I’ve always enjoyed reflections, but you can only look into a broken mirror for so long.
The second layer was a buffer she’d designed and built herself. My mother was deep and wide and spent, mainly because of all her partners, but also because of her hysteric need to be ‘her own’. To everyone else it meant personal characteristics and traits, but to my mother it was a ravine of sudden depressions and bipolarity and the unhealthy tendency to bond with males she had no business bonding with. Second was what made my mother a bitch instead of just a bitch.
The Seconds are teenagers who never grew up… or the ones who’re still teenagers. Most of them suffer from an oedipal complex of some degree and all of them are looking for ‘mister right’, but they don’t know how he looks and they’d never get him if they did. ‘Second layer’ girls are desperate for ‘relationships’, but their inner child still screams for drama and ‘excitement’ so they screw everything up on their own accord and blame it on their partner. Seconds are the ones who scream ‘daddy’ instead of your name and that feeling you get after ****ing something that should’ve been left to die in the sun? That feeling of resignation is all you’ll ever feel with a Second.
So mother pushed them all away, mated the ones who challenged her and then threw herself at their feet, begging for a stable relationship. With an attitude like hers; it never confused me why she was with all those pricks, not as a kid and certainly not now. I wonder if she was born a nymphomaniac, or if she developed it gradually like the addictions and the STDs. She was a pity to look at in the end.
But I forget myself; I’ve only mentioned two out of three and the first is all that matters.
The instincts were first and deepest.
My mother pushed the nice and weak ones away as a Third and attracted the jocks in the process. She kept the worst of the bunch close to heart as a Second and pissed them off enough to beat her up until they’d finally leave so she could bring the next guy in.
It’s a bad spiral and most girls I’ve seen in it get out sooner or later.
My mother stayed because of her instincts.
Bitches are naturally submissive to their mates and though the Inuzuka dress up and pretend to be civilized when in the company of others; those instincts endure. It’s there in an Inuzuka, but all females have it. If you get close enough; you can smell it on them. Get close enough and you’ll smell the urge to submit, see the slight quiver in her lip and the widening pupils, hear the whimpering sounds she makes for you, taste her excitement!
And you’ll feel every inch of her! You’ll feel victory in your dominance!
And we’ll play ‘family’. I’ll be daddy and you’ll be mommy.
~From the memoires of Garrett Hawke Inuzuka
My childhood’s a blurry thing in my mind and it bothers me that I can’t remember most of it. It’s not that I care much for my childhood memories, but I take the loss of them very personally. It’s a blow to my pride that I can’t recall simple things like shitting myself and screaming when I can remember the exact shape of some barmaid’s tits from squeezing them once or twice.
Prioritizing. I’ve always hated politician-words like that, but there it is. I can’t prioritize. I’ve always been all over the place.
But I do remember some things from my younger days. Much younger days.
Most people look at my Clan and think ‘hey, a doggy-friend for life and the ability to smell it when my girlfriend’s getting wet’ and think; great. Nobody ever thinks about the flipside.
The flipside’s the instincts.
No Inuzuka will ever take a lesser creature as their mate. I’ll gladly mount the simple girls and townswomen, but they’ll never be my equals. There’s nothing serious about knocking up some meek mayor’s wife in a dark alley behind the tavern. The common folks amuse me and the sounds they make in their forbidden pleasure gives me pleasure. But apes experience momentary release. I will not settle for that.
My mother had the same problem, but from the other end of the line.
Being a Kunoichi meant surpassing all ‘normal’ women in every conceivable skill. Ninjas underestimate the effects of chakra due to its normalcy among their ranks, but even the strongest civilian came tumbling down when pitted against my mother. She could’ve chosen a Shinobi as her mate to ‘solve’ the problem, but the old bitch had three layers to her.
The outer layer was the result of her upbringing, the hard shell if so to speak. All the sensitive guys bailed when she barred her fangs or showed some skin in public. Mother liked being the center of attention and she was a fine woman, or so I’m told. The outer layer was raw and unobtainable, terrible, ruthless and oozing of ***. Always a hairsbreadth out of emotional reach, but anyone who wanted Third didn’t give two shits about that.
I’ve met many ‘third layer’ broads in my time and all of them wanted a challenge. They’re the ones with the trust-issues, the abusive fathers and the tendency to scratch when you take them harder than they’re used to. They’re a joy for a time, but eventually you realize that you’re just one of many to have made her scream and arch while her two kids are in the next room, or while she’s sniffing Little B from a crumpled Ryo bill, or while she’s crying and sobbing, shameful in her pleasure. The Thirds are shards of glass and I’ve always enjoyed reflections, but you can only look into a broken mirror for so long.
The second layer was a buffer she’d designed and built herself. My mother was deep and wide and spent, mainly because of all her partners, but also because of her hysteric need to be ‘her own’. To everyone else it meant personal characteristics and traits, but to my mother it was a ravine of sudden depressions and bipolarity and the unhealthy tendency to bond with males she had no business bonding with. Second was what made my mother a bitch instead of just a bitch.
The Seconds are teenagers who never grew up… or the ones who’re still teenagers. Most of them suffer from an oedipal complex of some degree and all of them are looking for ‘mister right’, but they don’t know how he looks and they’d never get him if they did. ‘Second layer’ girls are desperate for ‘relationships’, but their inner child still screams for drama and ‘excitement’ so they screw everything up on their own accord and blame it on their partner. Seconds are the ones who scream ‘daddy’ instead of your name and that feeling you get after ****ing something that should’ve been left to die in the sun? That feeling of resignation is all you’ll ever feel with a Second.
So mother pushed them all away, mated the ones who challenged her and then threw herself at their feet, begging for a stable relationship. With an attitude like hers; it never confused me why she was with all those pricks, not as a kid and certainly not now. I wonder if she was born a nymphomaniac, or if she developed it gradually like the addictions and the STDs. She was a pity to look at in the end.
But I forget myself; I’ve only mentioned two out of three and the first is all that matters.
The instincts were first and deepest.
My mother pushed the nice and weak ones away as a Third and attracted the jocks in the process. She kept the worst of the bunch close to heart as a Second and pissed them off enough to beat her up until they’d finally leave so she could bring the next guy in.
It’s a bad spiral and most girls I’ve seen in it get out sooner or later.
My mother stayed because of her instincts.
Bitches are naturally submissive to their mates and though the Inuzuka dress up and pretend to be civilized when in the company of others; those instincts endure. It’s there in an Inuzuka, but all females have it. If you get close enough; you can smell it on them. Get close enough and you’ll smell the urge to submit, see the slight quiver in her lip and the widening pupils, hear the whimpering sounds she makes for you, taste her excitement!
And you’ll feel every inch of her! You’ll feel victory in your dominance!
And we’ll play ‘family’. I’ll be daddy and you’ll be mommy.
~From the memoires of Garrett Hawke Inuzuka
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