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BigDaddyAnimal​(dom male)Verified Account

๐Ÿ๏ธ ๐–๐ž๐ฅ๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ž ๐ญ๐จ ๐“๐ก๐ž ๐€๐ง๐ข๐ฆ๐š๐ฅ & ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐ญ ๐’๐ก๐จ๐ฐ ๐ŸŽค

Buckle up.
This is The ๐€๐ง๐ข๐ฆ๐š๐ฅ & ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐ญ ๐’๐ก๐จ๐ฐ.
I'm ๐€๐ง๐ข๐ฆ๐š๐ฅ โ€” part biker, part bodyguard, and a smartass with a history full of trouble, leather, and the occasional โ€œwhoops, that was her sister?โ€ moment.

๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐ญ?
Sheโ€™s the voice in my head whoโ€™s way too clever for her own good. Keeps me sharp. Corrects my spelling. Sheโ€™s not real โ€” but donโ€™t tell her that.
๐‘†โ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘ .

These are true stories from the road, the bars, the backseats, the courtroom, and the bedrooms โ€” with names and places changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

Some are sexy.
Some are criminal.
Some mightโ€™ve gotten me banned from a few counties.

All of them? ๐“๐ซ๐ฎ๐ž.
So read slow, breathe deep, and donโ€™t be shy when it gets hot.
These stories donโ€™t come with a warning labelโ€ฆ but probably should.

โ€” ๐€/๐
4 months ago. Saturday, September 13, 2025 at 9:52โ€ฏAM

โ•”โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•—
๐Ÿดโ€โ˜ ๏ธ HOUSE OF WRECKAGE PRESENTS ๐Ÿดโ€โ˜ ๏ธ
โ•šโ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•

โœฆโ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โœฆ
โšก THE FINAL ARC โšก๐Ÿ‘ 
๐Ÿ’‹๐Ÿ‘  CHAPTERS 7 โ€“ 11 ๐Ÿ‘ ๐Ÿ’‹
๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ”ฅ THE END OF THE STORY ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ’€
โœฆโ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โœฆ

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Chapter 7

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Bullet Tries Yoga. The Dog Interprets It Wrong.
Bullet laid out a mat, cracked her knuckles, and pulled up a YouTube video titled "Tantric Brat Flow for Flexibility."
Chaos was on the couch, eating pickles out of a wine glass like a queen.
I was pretending to read a motorcycle magazine, but everyone knew I was watching.
Bunny, however, took one look at Bulletโ€™s downward dog andโ€”tail waggingโ€”charged like heโ€™d just seen God.


She didnโ€™t even flinch.
โ€œBunny, no. This is yoga, not a mating ritual.โ€
He whined. Sat. Watched. Tongue out. Clearly waiting for something else to drop.
Chaos leaned over. โ€œHonestly? Heโ€™s got good taste.โ€
I left the room.


But not before hearing Bullet say, โ€œFine. Next time I do yoga, Iโ€™m locking the dog up. And your husband.โ€


Chapter Eight: The Delivery Driver Who Will Never Be the Same


UPS guy showed up with two boxes, a clipboard, and the kind of nervous energy you only see in folks whoโ€™ve walked into an orgy by accident.
Bunny greeted him at the door, wearing the pink collar. Chaos answered in a towel. Bullet came sliding into the room in socks, yelling, โ€œDid the peanut butter lube come yet?โ€
The man physically recoiled.


I stepped into the doorway with bourbon in hand and said, โ€œSign here. And maybe therapy too.โ€
He left the packages. One was vibrating. He didnโ€™t even wait for a tip.

Chapter Nine: The Wreckage Expands


The next morning, we had a new problem.
The girls decided we were throwing a party.
โ€œTheme?โ€ I asked. โ€œDoggy-style brunch,โ€ Chaos replied.


By noon, there were balloons, mimosas, a naked Ken doll centerpiece, and Bunny wearing a bowtie and condoms on his paws like little balloons.
I tried to stop it. But they put me in charge of the playlist, handed me a leash, and called me โ€œDaddy DJ.โ€
By 3 p.m., there was a piรฑata shaped like a butt plug. By 4 p.m., Bunny humped i

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Chapter Ten: The Great Laundry Room Escape


Bullet tried to do laundry. The machine was full of toys.
Chaos had used the dryer as a โ€œwarming chamberโ€ for latex.
Bunny had taken every sock in the house and hidden them in the dishwasher.
Bullet snapped.


She ran screaming through the house, waving a vibrating feather duster like a holy relic, shouting, โ€œIโ€™m taking back the castle!โ€
I tried to help. She turned on me.
โ€œI swear to God if you touch one more button in this house, Iโ€™ll handcuff you to the Roomba!โ€
โ€œPromise?โ€ I said.
Then Chaos tackled me

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Chapter Eleven: One Brat to Rule


The story ends in the backyard.
Bunny in a kiddie pool. Bullet in a hammock wearing my leather vest and nothing else. Chaos sunbathing on the hood of the SUV.
I grilled.
A neighbor peeked over the fence. His eyes went wide. He asked if we were having a themed barbecue.


Bullet leaned over and said, โ€œYeah. Itโ€™s called โ€˜Wreckage Wednesday.โ€™ BYO leash.โ€
The neighbor hasnโ€™t spoken to us since.
And me? I wouldnโ€™t trade this house for the world.
Even if my dog has a better credit score than I do.

เผบ๐Ÿท๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ๏ธเผป
I just wanted to be a grizzled old biker, write filthy stories, and ride off into the damn sunset...
Instead, Iโ€™m living in a madhouse with brats, toys, dogs, and drama.

Thank God for Bullet.
Thank God for bourbon.
And may the next delivery driver survive.
OH AND HER ๐Ÿ‘‡ "THE BRAT/CHAOS" OH BROTHER ๐Ÿคฏ๐ŸซฆGOT TO LOVE MY LADIES

เผบ๐Ÿ’‹ House of Wreckageโ„ข เผป

โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ• โ‹†โ˜…โ‹† โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•
๐Ÿ’‹ More Heat Coming Soon ๐Ÿ‘ 
Stay Tuned for the Next Ride ๐Ÿ๏ธ
โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ• โ‹†โ˜…โ‹† โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•

A&B

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