"I once lived," breathed the man. And then he was gone. And then there was darkness. But then there was pure white light. And love. And energy.
They say the penis stiffens upon death. This is why.
What they don't say, is that said penis can be removed from the body, and boiled, and sliced, and eaten, and it will taste a little like this pure love.
And give you an erection like no other erection you have ever had. Your penis will be 2.6 inches longer than ever before.
And your penis will be yellow. A flattering yellow, not a jaundice yellow. A yellow like gold.
And your semen will be whiter than you could ever imagine. White like the whiteness of the afterlife.
And women who swallow said semen will become pregnant.
And their baby will be smart.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
If It Pleases
He has always felt it pressing. Ever since he was a child his mother and father would be performing the ritual, but he would wait. He would walk through the house pressing two fingers against the old plaster leaving a line on the dusty walls. The walls would press back as he came closer and the ritual began to come to a close. The plaster growing soft and wet. This is when he could feel it pressing. Reaching his arms in up to his elbows the thing would come to the surface creating the slightest bulge. It would beckon to him. Telling him that he had only to insert.
Until this day he denied it.
Each day when he masturbated and the ceiling sank down stretching for his semen. He would feel the desire pressing down upon him. Today he was weak. His parent long dead had left him a servant who in his slow way cleaned the house. Some days ago the servant had brought the protagonist a cup of cold coffee. Forgetting that he had only just finished performing masturbation the protagonist threw the cup against the soft plaster. The wall quivered as the cup shattered. A small cut dripped blood from the wall into the spreading coffee stain.
The servant began to clean the mess without thinking of the cosmic implications, as servants are often caught doing. The servant who was a lonely man noticed that an orifice was forming near where he was kneeling. He said to himself, "Well good chap, looks like georgie boy's getting laid." And unzipped his pants. The protagonist who had been reading the paper and fuming heard an animalistic grunting coming from his masturbatorium.
When he arrived he saw his servant being pulled cock first into the wall. Being a jealous man he quickly grabbed an umbrella from the stand and stalked over. Unfortunately as he approached the servant was bent backward in pleasure and with an audible snap his back broke. The wall was at this point a man sized wet plaster vulva. It was obviously enjoying itself and this annoyed the protagonist so as the last of his servant disappeared into its quivering lips he threw his umbrella. It struck the wall square in the clit. As quick as such things happen the wall was little more than a wall again.
This was the reason the protagonist was weak and angry today. His servant had gotten laid and he had lost his servant. So as he began to stroke his penis for the daily ritual he connived. He was conniving so desperately that by the time the walls were wet and desireful he was already pushing in. The thing on the other side pressed back. Together they rocked pelvis to horrorpelvis. The connivings of earlier paid off for as he thrusted into the wall he began to write in Latin in the wet plaster with his fingers.
As the reader should know latin is a magic language made by the smart people who used to live. The protagonist wrote, "If it pleases the wall the penetrator desires to enter fully the wall alive." Then as the last latin glyph was carved he felt the gritty plaster folding over his body and the Pressing Thing pulled him in.
His eyes were taken from him he was told so he could better feel the incomprehensible pressure. His tongue was cut from his mouth so he would not be distracted by his own words. He was carved down until he was a brain and life support system for his cock. The warm fluid he was suspended in coerced him from all angles. The need for food and air left him.
He knew that all that he was and all that he will need is to please the wall. The thing pressed and he felt the waves from tip to shaft knowing that he has pleased the wall to the fullest of his abilities.
Until this day he denied it.
Each day when he masturbated and the ceiling sank down stretching for his semen. He would feel the desire pressing down upon him. Today he was weak. His parent long dead had left him a servant who in his slow way cleaned the house. Some days ago the servant had brought the protagonist a cup of cold coffee. Forgetting that he had only just finished performing masturbation the protagonist threw the cup against the soft plaster. The wall quivered as the cup shattered. A small cut dripped blood from the wall into the spreading coffee stain.
The servant began to clean the mess without thinking of the cosmic implications, as servants are often caught doing. The servant who was a lonely man noticed that an orifice was forming near where he was kneeling. He said to himself, "Well good chap, looks like georgie boy's getting laid." And unzipped his pants. The protagonist who had been reading the paper and fuming heard an animalistic grunting coming from his masturbatorium.
When he arrived he saw his servant being pulled cock first into the wall. Being a jealous man he quickly grabbed an umbrella from the stand and stalked over. Unfortunately as he approached the servant was bent backward in pleasure and with an audible snap his back broke. The wall was at this point a man sized wet plaster vulva. It was obviously enjoying itself and this annoyed the protagonist so as the last of his servant disappeared into its quivering lips he threw his umbrella. It struck the wall square in the clit. As quick as such things happen the wall was little more than a wall again.
This was the reason the protagonist was weak and angry today. His servant had gotten laid and he had lost his servant. So as he began to stroke his penis for the daily ritual he connived. He was conniving so desperately that by the time the walls were wet and desireful he was already pushing in. The thing on the other side pressed back. Together they rocked pelvis to horrorpelvis. The connivings of earlier paid off for as he thrusted into the wall he began to write in Latin in the wet plaster with his fingers.
As the reader should know latin is a magic language made by the smart people who used to live. The protagonist wrote, "If it pleases the wall the penetrator desires to enter fully the wall alive." Then as the last latin glyph was carved he felt the gritty plaster folding over his body and the Pressing Thing pulled him in.
His eyes were taken from him he was told so he could better feel the incomprehensible pressure. His tongue was cut from his mouth so he would not be distracted by his own words. He was carved down until he was a brain and life support system for his cock. The warm fluid he was suspended in coerced him from all angles. The need for food and air left him.
He knew that all that he was and all that he will need is to please the wall. The thing pressed and he felt the waves from tip to shaft knowing that he has pleased the wall to the fullest of his abilities.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Who Came Through Time
The device was quite simple. A small bucket that is hung from a hard dick. The hard part was keeping the semen flowing. This required that the penis be connected to a real man. A time traveling man.
We all know them. They walk down the streets like time doesn't exist. When you lay down with them their semen stops time for you, if only for a moment. The bucket was simply a way to collect their cum.
From the bucket emerged a tube and from the tube a strange device covered in cogs emitting steam. Steam punk bullshit because some people get off to the whistling piston moving in and out of the machine. The spunk was then injected back into his prostate. Time was fully under his control.
He Came For Us. One by one. An entire back pack of women. His massive stilts carrying us across time. The man was very keen in his endeavor. When we complained he took only a single drop of blood from his heart and put it on our tongues. We chirped like nestlings.
One day the man came across a beautiful woman. She too was a time traveler. Her wet lips stretched across a time saddle. When they made the eyes at each other time got funny. They couldn't fuck. Their genitals were all that stood between them and timeshit.
The man and woman began to pull us out of their back packs. They watched as we did terrible things. They traveled along our time. Making us orgasm for a million years. Many of us died. One of us managed to grab the woman's clit. She stopped in time. We all hit the windshield and when we did not let go the woman told the man that they had to fuck.
The man removed his device and the woman her's. We were all tranformed into a being that you have come to call god. The man became Adam and the woman Eve. They fucked all of humanity into being.
Happy Easter.
We all know them. They walk down the streets like time doesn't exist. When you lay down with them their semen stops time for you, if only for a moment. The bucket was simply a way to collect their cum.
From the bucket emerged a tube and from the tube a strange device covered in cogs emitting steam. Steam punk bullshit because some people get off to the whistling piston moving in and out of the machine. The spunk was then injected back into his prostate. Time was fully under his control.
He Came For Us. One by one. An entire back pack of women. His massive stilts carrying us across time. The man was very keen in his endeavor. When we complained he took only a single drop of blood from his heart and put it on our tongues. We chirped like nestlings.
One day the man came across a beautiful woman. She too was a time traveler. Her wet lips stretched across a time saddle. When they made the eyes at each other time got funny. They couldn't fuck. Their genitals were all that stood between them and timeshit.
The man and woman began to pull us out of their back packs. They watched as we did terrible things. They traveled along our time. Making us orgasm for a million years. Many of us died. One of us managed to grab the woman's clit. She stopped in time. We all hit the windshield and when we did not let go the woman told the man that they had to fuck.
The man removed his device and the woman her's. We were all tranformed into a being that you have come to call god. The man became Adam and the woman Eve. They fucked all of humanity into being.
Happy Easter.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
The Shoeman
There was once a shoeman. All he did was repair shoes. He had a shop for it. It was called Darrell's Shoe Repair.
One day, Darrell was shining a particularly ugly shoe. It was garish and arab-looking. Also very hard to the touch, like metal might be. Darrell did not like it.
Suddenly, a genie popped out of the shoe. Turns out, Darrell had been shining a lamp. The genie told Darrell he had three wishes.
For his first wish, Darrell asked for Daryl Hannah. For his second wish, Darrell asked for Darryl Strawberry. For his third wish, Darrell asked for a copy of D.A.R.Y.L. on DVD. Then the genie was gone.
"Hello," said Daryl.
"Hello," said Darryl.
"Hello," said Darrell.
"..." said D.A.R.Y.L.
Daryl took off her clothes and pulled Darryl's pants down. She began kissing Darryl's penis.
"Oh yes," said Darrell.
"Oh yes," said Daryl.
"Oh yes," said Darryl.
"..." said D.A.R.Y.L.
It went on like this for a while. Then they all ejaculated, except for D.A.R.Y.L.
One day, Darrell was shining a particularly ugly shoe. It was garish and arab-looking. Also very hard to the touch, like metal might be. Darrell did not like it.
Suddenly, a genie popped out of the shoe. Turns out, Darrell had been shining a lamp. The genie told Darrell he had three wishes.
For his first wish, Darrell asked for Daryl Hannah. For his second wish, Darrell asked for Darryl Strawberry. For his third wish, Darrell asked for a copy of D.A.R.Y.L. on DVD. Then the genie was gone.
"Hello," said Daryl.
"Hello," said Darryl.
"Hello," said Darrell.
"..." said D.A.R.Y.L.
Daryl took off her clothes and pulled Darryl's pants down. She began kissing Darryl's penis.
"Oh yes," said Darrell.
"Oh yes," said Daryl.
"Oh yes," said Darryl.
"..." said D.A.R.Y.L.
It went on like this for a while. Then they all ejaculated, except for D.A.R.Y.L.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A Bad Orgasm
Sometimes in life, life throws you a bad orgasm. This is a story of that.
1982. Barcelona, Kansas. The bar stinks like a cheap skunk, but the patrons are plentiful. I am sipping an opaque martini. It is the town drink. It is called 'Darkness'. It tastes how it sounds.
Suddenly an urge comes over me. The urge is to purge. I make my way to the bathroom like a fireman down a pole and piss thick yellow all over the wall of the urinal. The fiery splashback stings my mitts. The steam rises off the waterfall like souls passing to heaven. I am instantly hard.
I begin stroking my meat sword. After a few pumps, the spermatozoa are ready. But I am still streaming saintly saffron from my urethra. What would happen if I orgasmed during?
I declare 'fuck it' and let myself cum. Bad idea. The sea men mix with the lemonade, causing them to fuse together. I now have a hard icicle connecting me to the urinal. I rip at the icicle to break it, but cannot. I bite at it. No avail. I am stuck. Stuck forever.
I am now a staple at the bar. Just like that godforsaken drink. Come see me. I sign autographs. My name is Urinal Penis Man, but you probably already know that.
1982. Barcelona, Kansas. The bar stinks like a cheap skunk, but the patrons are plentiful. I am sipping an opaque martini. It is the town drink. It is called 'Darkness'. It tastes how it sounds.
Suddenly an urge comes over me. The urge is to purge. I make my way to the bathroom like a fireman down a pole and piss thick yellow all over the wall of the urinal. The fiery splashback stings my mitts. The steam rises off the waterfall like souls passing to heaven. I am instantly hard.
I begin stroking my meat sword. After a few pumps, the spermatozoa are ready. But I am still streaming saintly saffron from my urethra. What would happen if I orgasmed during?
I declare 'fuck it' and let myself cum. Bad idea. The sea men mix with the lemonade, causing them to fuse together. I now have a hard icicle connecting me to the urinal. I rip at the icicle to break it, but cannot. I bite at it. No avail. I am stuck. Stuck forever.
I am now a staple at the bar. Just like that godforsaken drink. Come see me. I sign autographs. My name is Urinal Penis Man, but you probably already know that.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Cake
Body shots on her breasts, but all we can see is their cake.
"That cake, baby, it's got be at least four feet high."
"So many tiers, we could sure make a mess with that bad boy."
"Perfection, incakearnate."
The bride shimmying to dubsteps, spreading out from her husbands hands. We told them that we were happy for their marriage and their twins, but what we really wanted was a slice cut fresh from a baker's dream.
This wasn't some love you long time cake, this cake was classy. Fondant was no where to be found, royal icing covering a plethora of flavors: white, yellow, chocolate, red velvet. We really weren't picky.
Sweat dripping from his naked body the groom pulls up wife in one hand and a knife in the other.
"Look at that blade. What. a. blade. As long as his torso as broad as her chest. That blade could cut a cake in twain. Hell it's a wonder that the two of them can even lift it."
"We could offer to help..."
"No, no we could never..."
"They would never know, look at them covered in each other's fluids, they can hardly tell where they are. They don't DESERVE to deflower that cake."
Mozying slowly closer we reached ever so slowly for the handle. The anticipation on our lips dripping down our chins. Though it was easily buried six inches into the hard wood of the floor, it released easily with the slightest tug. Our hands intertwined we hefted it's glinting shaft into the revolving lights of the dance floor.
And gently we cut the cake into pieces specifically designed to satisfy no one. Each cut exposing more of the perfectly baked interior. Unable to resist we plunged our fingers into the frosting, breaking the extremely thin and delicate outer crust. When our fingers were finally pulled from the cake's distant interior, we turned and left. Leaving as our only trace a mound of frosted waste, which only hinted at it's former glory.
"That cake, baby, it's got be at least four feet high."
"So many tiers, we could sure make a mess with that bad boy."
"Perfection, incakearnate."
The bride shimmying to dubsteps, spreading out from her husbands hands. We told them that we were happy for their marriage and their twins, but what we really wanted was a slice cut fresh from a baker's dream.
This wasn't some love you long time cake, this cake was classy. Fondant was no where to be found, royal icing covering a plethora of flavors: white, yellow, chocolate, red velvet. We really weren't picky.
Sweat dripping from his naked body the groom pulls up wife in one hand and a knife in the other.
"Look at that blade. What. a. blade. As long as his torso as broad as her chest. That blade could cut a cake in twain. Hell it's a wonder that the two of them can even lift it."
"We could offer to help..."
"No, no we could never..."
"They would never know, look at them covered in each other's fluids, they can hardly tell where they are. They don't DESERVE to deflower that cake."
Mozying slowly closer we reached ever so slowly for the handle. The anticipation on our lips dripping down our chins. Though it was easily buried six inches into the hard wood of the floor, it released easily with the slightest tug. Our hands intertwined we hefted it's glinting shaft into the revolving lights of the dance floor.
And gently we cut the cake into pieces specifically designed to satisfy no one. Each cut exposing more of the perfectly baked interior. Unable to resist we plunged our fingers into the frosting, breaking the extremely thin and delicate outer crust. When our fingers were finally pulled from the cake's distant interior, we turned and left. Leaving as our only trace a mound of frosted waste, which only hinted at it's former glory.
Monday, January 10, 2011
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