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The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)High

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test

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Best answers to questions:

» Bedroom Disasters

Alcohol was a factor
My new girlfriend told me she liked it rough. Despite having never done anything like that before, I think "fuck it", and we decide to go for it one night after a trip to the pub.

We get through the door and take our roles. Music is put on to cover the oncoming storm of grunts. She gets shoved onto the bed, hard, and lies there, legs akimbo, to let me "ravish" her (her term, I might add).

After maybe a minute of such ravishing, I realise I'm getting minimal feedback. I look up.

She'd hit her head on the wall when I shoved her...

...and I'd molested her while she was unconscious.

We don't tell that one at dinner parties.
(Fri 24th Jun 2011, 4:08, More)

» Wanking Disasters Part II

Passed out naked...
...in front of the computer, trousers round ankles, bottle of vodka still on the desk, gentleman's interest video still running on loop...

...woke up in different clothes to the ones I'd been wearing before the wank, with my dad watching over me to make sure I didn't choke on my vomit in my sleep. Apparently I'd been quite... explosive.

We don't talk about it. Ever.
(Thu 17th Feb 2011, 12:48, More)

» Buses

Sixth formers
I once witnessed a very large, trenchcoat wearing sixth former from another school, whom we shall call G, yank the RnB blasting phone from the hands of a swearing Year 8, whom we shall call D, snap it in half at the hinge, then throw it out the window. Threats of a knifing at the hand of an apocryphal big brother were met with a genuine look of excitement and attempts to organise the thing more officially.

Shaken and now perplexed, D went along with it. They were to meet in a cul de sac in an extremely rough part of town after school.

The next day, D wasn't on the bus. It turned out G had turned up unarmed, except for the 2 police cars filled with serious men in stab vests hidden around the corner. This became 3 cars, then one of those vans you see on a Saturday night, because D had apparently enlisted his entire estate to help him out, and they were all carrying a knife, some drugs, or both.

G went on to nail my sister, and I couldn't have been happier.
(Fri 26th Jun 2009, 0:37, More)

» "Needless to say, I had the last laugh"

Over a decade in the making
At primary school I was bullied by a stuck-up little shit we shall call Eric. He was slightly bigger than the rest of us, which apparently gave him license to bullshit and push everyone else around. Point in case: at the age of 11 he claimed he had played for the England under 16's rugby team. A few years later I'd face him on the rugby pitch, as I played for my school. He was a linesman.

Over a few years of him pretending to be my friend in public and shoving me off my chair whenever nobody was looking, he managed to convince all my friends I was a weirdo because I was interested in girls, and I spent the last year of primary school, a time when I should have been cultivating confidence and personality before the reality-altering effects of puberty hit, completely alone and miserable.

Many years later, working in a club, my hugely attractive colleague Jane took a shine to me. Frankly, the flirting was embarrassing, and it only got worse when my girlfriend of the time was in for a drink. At our 2009 staff Christmas do, the flirting went over the top and into full-blown "you should probably shag me in the toilets" territory. As I looked on pleadingly at my friends, she tipsily sat on my lap, playing with my hair and shoving her breasts into my face while cooing... something. I don't remember the words, as there was no blood in my ears at the time. I'm not even sure I responded beyond grunting.

But I kept myself in check, right up until the moment her boyfriend arrived. Who should it be but Eric, all grown up to the lofty heights of 5'8" in a decent sized hat, who pulled her off me and sent her to the car. Having bumped into one another a few times during our school careers, he recognised me, and I recognised him.

"Stay away from her, Gun." he growled.
"Bit late for that..." I replied, silently stunned at the fact that I'd produced such a wonderfully enigmatic line under pressure.

He looked like he was about to straight-up ask if I'd shagged her, but didn't, which is good because to this day I can't decide if lying ("she said I was better than you") or slagging him off ("I wouldn't touch her after you've had your paws on her") would have been more fun. Instead he just scowled and stomped off.

Next month, I asked for all my shifts to overlap with Jane's.

They broke up 3 weeks later, when his paranoia sent him a bit (more) mental. Maximum result, no infidelity, total pwnership. Score.

Length? About 2 hours of stroking and buying me drinks.
(Thu 3rd Feb 2011, 14:46, More)

» Gambling

First day at a new job
Over lunch, the boss boasts that she can eat a whole muffin in one bite. She proceeds to prove this, to much eyerolling from the jaded crowd.

"I bet I could do that." I whisper quietly.

"Go on then. Do it and you get the afternoon off, paid." she challenged.

So I did. With the biggest one in the pack. Much cheering ensued.

The cheering turned to cries of "Shit! Someone give him the Heimlich!" as a realised that there was simply too much muffiny goodness to fit down my throat at once, and that I could neither breath nor swallow nor get a grip on the offending lump because opening my mouth forced it further down my throat.

Eventually enough of it dropped that I could open my mouth, so I did, expelling a half chewed chunk of mush the size of a tennis ball onto the carpet on front of my new colleagues.

Length? About 4 weeks after that debacle.
(Fri 8th May 2009, 16:52, More)
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