Top of the evening to you Midnight. Of course, as I’ve been making my travels from place to place on my mission of revenge on those degenerates from the deep web site, “pink meth.” I’ve rather enjoyed your little campfire stories of possible demonic possessions and the like. Each asking if you wanted more of them submitted for your approval. I share them on different forms of social media because they amuse me. I always post under an assumed named from what ever coffee house I find myself in. You’d be amazed how easy it is to bat my eye lashes and ask to borrow an old mans phone.) I suggest your other fans do the same if they really want what they have to say heard and viewed.

It’s not your approval I seek but rather the outlet to have my story known. In case your viewers cannot recall. Let’s give them an albeit brief re-cap. I have been called Chan Vigilante but I prefer “the Crimson Vigilante.” My sister Marsha took her own life after the pink meth crowd shared photo upon photo of her forced acts. She really wanted no part in any of their games. Finally, seeing no way out, she regrettably ended her own life. I read in horror how they felt no responsibility for any of it and it was her family that should have been there to support her.

Marsha was not kind nor cruel, but once her photo was shared by a disgruntled ex-husband, she became fearful and reclusive. In her distraught state, she once told me of a strong box and said if anything should ever happen to her I was to take the key and go to it. With her blood still on my hands I unlocked the steel case and inside was stacks of cash, her birth certificate and a handful of photos of her and I when we were kids. You might well remember those details for another confession should you and your viewers care for one. In case you were wondering, this is how I fund myself and where the story now picks back up.

Of course I’m no longer in the city I am speaking about, I’m a vigilante not a fool. I have on my zip drive all of the users names, cities, and other vital information whom posted and shared in what I can only consider Marsha’s murder. It really shouldn’t matter if it was by her hand or not! I know the law, and the lack of it. Nothing local law enforcement would ever do in a case of suicide, but I can, and have done so with great calculated and enthusiastic commitment.

I went to a city known for it’s brotherly love. I’m certain I needn’t mention it by name. Within a few feet of the bus station, there was a good old fashioned, well known book store offering it’s Wi-Fi for free. I set up my post there. I donned my white hat with the letters, CV upon it and looked up a very nasty man who boasted to his pals about his six figure income on many occasions. Surely a man of affluent tastes would appreciate a well read woman willing to lend herself for his camera for some needed artful nudes.

I wrote up a Craig’s list ad and ignored all but his since he often told his pink meth friends that’s the best way to find women. I knew the name immediately as it appeared in an answer to my ad. Why these men never change their name is still laughable to me. The address to the book store was everywhere, so it was very easy to enter into his reply.

Never since has an answer followed that rapidly, which is a pity as some of my missions take days to set up.
Within a couple of hours we were sitting in this mall’s book store, sipping coffee from their little cafe’. There is such a thing known as over sharing and sometimes listening close enough you can wait further into a conversation and mirror back what the person said and they will feel as if they know you and believe to have some real connection.

After a time, he finally took notice of a book which I actually hold no true fandom of, you know the one, of a certain well to do man who seeks a secretary to become his sex slave. He saw that I had it strategically stacked about with some historical nude picture books. I fumbled and dropped it and pretended to be very ashamed and embarrassed. I was actual neither one. I had it there for him to see.

He said there was a lovely hotel just up the street from this mall as is in many larger cities and this was no different. He said he had a camera and would love to take some photos of me which he would later paint from and give me the painting for my boy-friend. I knew what was up and agreed to follow him in my rented car to this hotel.

In order for him to legitimize himself, he showed me some photos of former paintings he’d done. This man even went so far as to show me his collection of oil based paints he would later use.

I knew him and his game as he bragged so many times on pink meth as to this is how he always begins his game, he didn’t know the rules were about to change. I told him that I had a much better camera and he could use it to take the photos with and I would mail them to him, A smile came over his face, which cringed my soul. He thought I was making it too easy for him. He asked if I had any fantasies such as what was in that book I dropped earlier. I humbly lowered my eyes and told him I liked being controlled. “REALLY?” he exclaimed almost in a shout he was so excited. “Yes,” I answered in a light whisper.

“Remove your clothes and do it slowly for me.” He replied, thinking he just struck gold. “Ok, but just please use my camera, that’s the only thing I ask of you,” and he agreed.

As my shirt and bra dropped to the floor, the pale dilated eyes of my dead sister seemed to sparkle in my mind, I could swear I could sense her smile when my hands were cupped over my most private areas. He dropped my camera on the bed and ordered me to lay down so he could get over head shots.

Once I was in a prone position, he began crawling on different sections of the mattress. “Click Click Click,” the damn fool didn’t even check to see if a) there was film in the camera OR b) if there was even an s.d. card inside of it. The only article of clothing I kept on was my now signature white knit hat with the letters CV. It seems to help me keep my thoughts and wits while I work.

His face was close to mine so close. I pulled my arm up slowly toward my hat and much to his surprise, withdrew a hypodermic needle. Since my sister was diabetic it’s very easy to show any pharmacy tech and get issued a 30 day supplies worth of them. Inside the needle was the drug which you refused to reveal in my last story. My senses were so alert and vibrant, I could actually hear the flesh puncture when I inserted the needle into his neck. I wish I could have a picture of his face at that moment! The poor bastard couldn’t even make it to the door before his will became mine.

I told him how naughty he had been and picked up his camera and turned it on. Now strip…and do it for me slowly b a b y. Of course he followed orders. I told him to open my suit case and take out a cute darling little French maids outfit which I’d purchased some time back at a Halloween shop after the holiday sale.

I kept the film rolling as he put on each piece, even the tacky cheap lace hat. I ordered him to lay on the bed and he obeyed. I then tied his arms and legs to the posts in this over priced tourist trap of a room, which was foolishly registered to his credit card.

I took out his cheap oil paints and used his exposed body parts now not covered in fake black satin to paint the letters C V over and over. I took his lame paint brush and stuck it length wise in his mouth. Although rendered willing he knew what I was doing, the whole time.

I uploaded the images to pink-meth on the deep web, and I will upload more soon Midnight as I have dozens now. I put on my sisters business casuals and left the room. I was even so bold as to stop by the front desk to complain about the noise coming from his room.

Oh I do hope your fans share this on their social media, it could only help my mission and purpose, and really it costs them nothing. Whereas I am the one taking all the risk.

Do YOU want more Midnight? Do YOUR FANS? If so I’ll keep looking to see if this story is shared, as my next one promises to hold a twist that even you cannot anticipate!


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