The Sharpesvale Chronicles, Chapter 305

Welcome to the Sharpesvale Chronicles, an ongoing neighbourhood story in The Sims 2!
Warning: this journal may contain uncensored nudity, violence, profanity and sexual themes.

Updates whenever I damn well please!

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In which intra-marital affairs finally go extinct.


Chelsea: mmfsexmmf

Chelsea: I hope you weren’t hoping for plot today.

Chelsea: …I think I might be carrying Bigfoot babies.

You just promised me no plot!

Chelsea: These kids are impossible.

Of course they are.

They’re William and Cameron’s.

You should put them down before it’s too late.

Chelsea: Badass.
Emma: Chehwsea.
Chelsea: EXACTLY!

Emma: Tell them what they want to hear.

Chelsea: Nobody wants to hear what I’m about to tell.

Chelsea: To the toilet.

Chelsea: I’d better get some sex in before I get fat.

Chelsea: Bigfoot.
Bree: Beaw!
Chelsea: Exactly.

And then she puked on the baby.

How did you get so fit?

Chelsea: Sexercise!

Chelsea: With my bearfriend.

Hey, an establishing shot, and it’s not even someone’s birthday.

Aw, come on. I could have framed that perfectly with just a little more effort.

Amin: REAL GOLD FLOORS Y’ALL

Amin: Behave while I’m at work?
Chelsea: I’ll get up to some behaviour, sure.

Chelsea: .oO(Mating behaviour.)

Chelsea: Wanna fuck?

Bree: Could you not.

So sultry.

You know he’s not human because he wants to go to work.

See also.

Michael: Oh yeah baby, that’s the money shot!

Chelsea: Some people don’t like me!
Michael: They haven’t seen you naked, I presume?

Chelsea: Lucas is dead.
Michael: Never gets old!

Chelsea: Shit, I’d better put some clothes on.
Michael: You’d better not!

Chelsea: Around here you have to earn nudity, mister.

Chelsea: It’s not a hard job, though.

Michael: I dunno, feels pretty hard from where I’m standing.

Chelsea: Oh yeah? Show me.

Chelsea: Why’d you put me down?
Michael: You were getting heavier rapidly.

Chelsea: Oh FUCK.

Michael: Looks like you already did.

Chelsea: If you back out now I’m keeping your ass.

Michael: I’m feeling your boob.
Chelsea: Good man!

Bree: Is he, though?

Michael: Where you goin’, baby?
Chelsea: For a baby shower. You can come.

Michael: I’m definitely going to!

Chelsea: Tell your friends!

Chelsea: OHHHHHHH TELL ALLLLLL YOUR FRIENDS

Chelsea: Seriously do it.

He’s back from work;
Today he drove;

His wife’s a bitch;

He won a stove.

Michael: I just heard the door open.
Chelsea: So stick ‘er in!
Michael: …you think “door” is a euphemism for “vagina”?
Chelsea: I’m a Romance Sim. I think everything is a euphemism for everything.

Chelsea: Anyway stick ‘er in already.

Amin: I have cyclotronned the superjuice!

Michael: You deserve a blowpromotion.

Chelsea: I’m already the CEO of blow.

Michael: This is just barely worth the mortal peril it puts me in.

He’s going to do some financial consulting.

Hopefully video conferencing isn’t involved.

I don’t know if I’d take 401k advice from a bigfoot in a bowler.

Amin: Racist?

Michael: …how is the shower going if neither of us are actually interacting with it?

It’s complicated.

Chelsea is also complicated.

Chelsea: I’ll distract the monkey so you can sneak out.

Michael: Racist?

Amin: Were you alone in there?
Chelsea: There’s my big ol’ fuckmuffin!

Amin: You just taught the kids a new word.

Bree: Fuckmuffin!
Emma: Fuckmuffin!

Amin: I might as well fuck your muffin now that the damage is done.

Amin: Hey, you’re fat now.

Chelsea: It’s genetics. Specifically yours and mine combined.

Michael: I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING FOR SOME REASON

And then he soaked his leg.

Michael: I HAVE A VERY STRANGE UNDERSTANDING OF WHAT CONSTITUTES BETRAYAL

Michael: I’m gonna leave before someone asks me to justify my wrath.

Chelsea: I’d explain what just happened, but luckily it won’t have triggered your jealousy code.

Chelsea: It’s a good life when you know how to game the system.

Amin: HARLOT!
Chelsea: How do you know, though?!

Amin: That man just ran in and implied you’d had an affair with him!
Chelsea: But that’s not supposed to tip you off! PLAY BY THE RULES MAN!

Amin: I’m not some fucking robot, Chelsea!
Chelsea: We’re ALL some fucking robots, Amin!

Amin: Well beep boop bleep fuck you, then.

Chelsea: What just happened?

I have no idea. It doesn’t make any sense.

Chelsea: I blame your eighteen-gigabyte downloads folder, personally.

Hey! It was only like sixteen gigabytes at this point.

Chelsea: I can’t live with a man who spots cheating that easily.
Amin: But I love you now somehow!
Chelsea: GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER

Chelsea: And get it OUT OF MY HOUSE.

Chelsea: Take your stove and GIT.

Amin: I thought you’d like that stove.

NOTHING MAKES SENSE ANYMORE

Yeah, empty your… pockets… before you go.

This is how Bree dies.

Amin: I’m gonna naked ass your chair before I go.

Chelsea: Let me teach you how not to get stomped by bigfoots, kid.

Amin: Fuck you.
Michael: Fuck you!
Amin: Fuck… Chelsea.
Michael: Yeah, fuck her, definitely.

Bree: So many handholds!

Kick her in the tits.

Chelsea: Hey man, good news! Got the house all to myself now.

SHE WASN’T CALLING YOU

Chelsea: Are you stealing my house?

Michael: Why am I doing this.

Chelsea: Has everyone but me lost their mind?

I saw how you reacted to the breakup. You’re not immune.

Oliver: Hey, look who got old and fat!

Chelsea: And horny.

Oliver: Did you miss me while I was dead?
Chelsea: Honestly I called you the moment I remembered you.

Chelsea: Your dad’s a jerk.

Mine isn’t. Happy Father’s Day, dad!

Except I hope he never reads this story.

That would be weird.

Oliver: Hahaha your house smells like dog sex.

Oliver: And you smell like all sex.

Chelsea: I’m a collector!

Oliver: This is weird.

Chelsea: Because you died and I got older, or because you died and I got pregnant?
Oliver: Because a girl likes me, actually.

Oliver: What’re you doing?
Chelsea: Adjusting to taste.

Oliver: Tastes goooood.

Chelsea: I am way too hot to be wasted on breeding.

Chelsea: Will you be my live-in sex butler?

Oliver: Did someone send you a telescope bomb?

Chelsea: HELLO FIRE DEPARTMENT? IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW

Oliver: Oh, the rain put it out.

Good thing nobody panicked.

Chelsea: You can’t fine me! I’M on fire!

Oliver: No arguments here.

Oliver: I think your water pressure is a bit too strong.

Chelsea: Hahaha what is this tiny thing.

Chelsea: I’mma call you Oscar Mayer.

Chelsea: Seriously where’s the real dick.

Oliver: I think you’re the real dick.

Oliver: At least you’re a big one.

Chelsea: I hope you like diapers, bud.

Chelsea: Maybe I should like diapers!

Chelsea changes her Aspiration to Great Grey Brick.

Chelsea: It’s so hot, the way he mashes his dick into the counter like that!

Chelsea: I will pay you in sex if you raise these kids that aren’t yours.
Oliver: This is that weird cuckold fantasy I’ve been hearing about on the internet, isn’t it.

Chelsea: I fucked your brother.
Oliver: That’s five other people.

Chelsea: I fucked him when he was already married.
Oliver: Oh, that brother.

Chelsea: I fucked him when he was married to my sister.
Oliver: You’re terrible.

Oliver: And fuckable.

Chelsea: I’m fuckable!

Oliver: Yes, that’s my face, what of it.

Chelsea: I’m pimp-handing you, bitch.

Chelsea: Now make with the makin’ it.

Chelsea: So strong!
Oliver: The Little Erection That Could.

Chelsea: I hope the neighbours are taking notes.

Chelsea: OHHHH TAKE NOTES EVERYBODY

Elle: Your neighbours threw up.

Chelsea: It’s been a weird life, Ollie.
Oliver: With a few weird deaths mixed in, yeah.

Chelsea: MY KNEES ARE SINKING THROUGH THE FLOOR

Is that good?

Chelsea: IT’S WEIRD

Chelsea: …I think it may be possible to have enough sex in one day.

Oliver: I’ll meet you there.

Michael: Didn’t my telescope bomb go off?!

Oliver: So wait. I have to take care of baby WilliamCamerons AND baby ChelseaBigfoots?
Chelsea: Won’t it be fun?!

Oliver: This is hell, isn’t it.

Next time: no plot, and then suddenly, LOTS of plot!

It’s plotted unevenly.

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