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Latest revision as of 23:26, 11 October 2015
Archive 6
My Open Relationship
Hey /b/. I need some help here. I'm pretty sure I've fucked up.
So, my girlfriend and I are into the whole open relationship thing. We had been quietly looking for a party to go to and meet other swingers. We weren't looking to actually hook up at our first party, we just wanted to hang out and get to know some folks for future casual hookups. We had to wait for a night when my parents wouldn't be around to get nosy about where I was going and what time I would get back though, and we didn't want to do it anywhere near our home town because we didn't want to run into anyone we knew, or anyone that knew either of our parents.
After about 2 weeks of looking and talking to people involved in "the lifestyle" in the area, we got an invite to a pretty exclusive invite-only masquerade party about 2 hours north of us. It just so happened that was the same weekend that my mom was going to some security conference for her job (bank branch manager) and dad was going to tag along and make a weekend of it since it was going to be way out in Chicago. Fuckin' perfect timing, right?
So, we get out there and the spot is fucking banging. Hot couples all over. We put our mardi-gras masks on and kinda sat to teh side for a bit and had some drinks. By some, I mean like... 8 each. Being one of the youngest couples there, a lot of people were buying us drinks even though we said we were "just looking".
After a while though, she started rubbing my pants leg, then my cock, then I felt someone else's hand rubbing my cock too. We had attracted the attention of another couple who we had talked to earlier who was also "just looking".
Well, one thing led to another, and we were in the middle of a 6 way fuckfest a little while later. I'm not sure how long we had sex, I was so hammered I couldn't even read a fucking watch. In this heap of sex and bodily fluids, we hooked up with a more mature couple that was really going to town. Both he and she were touching and sucking everything in sight.
Sandy started riding his cock, and I was assfucking his wife, and in the heat of the moment I knocked over a little cocktail table next to the mat were were laying on. An ashtray with a lit cigarette landed upside down on the wife's shoulder, and when she yelped in pain her asshole tightened and I came. The table hit the dude in the face, almost knocking off his mask. We were asked to leave because were were "too drunk and getting rowdy" according to the mistress in charge, even though the other couples said it was OK.
We managed to pull our clothes on and staggered off to a hotel nearby to sleep it off. We woke up about 10 am the next morning and hauled ass home before my mom's flight was supposed to get back at 12:35.
So here's where the fucked up part comes in.
My mom had a big band-aid on her shoulder. My dad has a bruise under his left eye. My girlfriend says she thinks she's pregnant.
WTF DO I DO?!
The Little Fucker Who Took My Money
Hey, /b/...
Ok, I generally wouldn't ask for advice here, and definitely won't ask anything involving my love life, but this advice involves me needing fucked-up advice, and, hey, where better than /b/?
Ok, so, I'm in high school. Our story starts off right after winter break. I had gotten shitloads of cash from Christmas, and had forgotten to take it out of my wallet after we'd gone shopping. So, I'm at school, carrying almost $300 in my pocket without even realizing it, and I drop my wallet in the locker room after PE. An hour or so later, when I reach down and feel no wallet in my pocket, I panic, and retrace my steps, finding my empty fucking wallet stashed in a broken wallet, money taken. I take this up with the principal, which was a fucking mistake; he proceeds to call people up to his office, one at a time, informing the entire school (including whoever stole my cash). So, for about 3 and a half months now, I've been contemplating what I'd do to the fucker who stole my money. I'd been reading Fight Club (the book the movie is based on) when this first happened, so I was pretty certain on how little human life is worth, and that made me think of all kinds of fucked up things to do if I ever found out WHO.
Guess what, /b/?
The fucking idiot bragged to one of his friends the other day, and that friend told me. This has been said a lot, but now it is meant to its full extent, I think: do your worst, /b/.
Oh, tools I have at my disposal:
An old bottle of syrup of ipecac, which would seem useless, but it's ferment to the point of being lethal.
A few mercury thermometers, which could be snuck into a drink to make him deedidee for the rest of his life.
I live in the country. Disposing of a body = no problemo.
I can make plastic explosives.
Before/After Protests
Before Protests:
THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST
hey gais i juts foun encylopedica dramarita, u gais r funny lol i told evryon on myspace bout u lol post
invader zim
COUNT TO TEN AND ILL POST TITS
U Laff, U Loose!
Slowpoke Combo Incoming, bitches!!!!!
Hey, lets start a furry thread!
Oh man, b, i need advice! my girlfriend wont come to my Liknkin Park concert cause she wants to do marijuana but its illegal oh man b what od i do?
post endingin 74 tels me wat do to
Hey Faggots, My name is John, and I hate every single one of you.
God exists, PROVE ME WRONG
After Protests:
MAN /b/ WAS FUCKING SHITCOCK GREAT BEFORE THESE PROTESTS, THEN THEY WENT AND FUCKED THINGS UP!
"When I was 17 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex"
ITT: Your most embracing story. Allow me;
When I was 17 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex. I, as one might expect of a 17 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination.
I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my shit to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn't aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days.
Let me set the scene. Her parents are away. We have her house to ourselves. She was always a little kinky so she demands we do it in her parents bed.
I walk in to a candle holocaust. She's been working on this all day apparently, and its as bright as high noon in there with the lights off. Which is good, because she proceeds to do a sweet, sexy little dance for me. At 16, she was AMAZING. For those of you who never experienced a female at that age, I pity the fool.
Now I'm sitting on the bed, watching this dance. I smile and tell her how good she looks. Unfortunately, most of my attention is focused on the dull throbbing from my sphincter and the large amount of intestinal discomfort associated with not dropping duce in days. But somehow I still get hard and we go to town.
She starts out on top, then we switch. I bend her over the bed, and I even smack her ass (a ballsy move at the time, but she loved it). Due to my built up distraction, I last for what seems like FOREVER. She can't stop moaning and telling me how good it feels, and then she says what every man wants to hear "I want to make you cum in my mouth." I fucking love women.
So she goes down on me. She was always average at best in the head department but at least she tried. She pops my cock out of her mouth long enough to look up at me and say "tell me if you like this". Then I feel it.
She stuck her finger up my ass.
My brain hits the panic switch and every muscle in my entire body locks up tighter than a three year old virgin. But its too late.
I take a massive, PAINFUL, PAINFUL shit, all over her parents comforter.
No, you aren't understanding. I mean large. Huge. IMMENSE. Take your largest shit and multiple it by forty-two and you'll have an idea of what flew out of me.
And gents, when I say flew, I don't mean "I pooped." I mean "projectile". I mean "hurricane force winds hitting an umbrella stand". And due to my condition, it comes out as a large, dark brown, smelly harpoon.
I know it hit her. I didn't see it. She ran screaming "OH MY GOD OHMYGODOHMYGODEEEEEWWWWWWWW" but I always imagined that, due to her position, it hit her right in the chin. Or at least the tits.
I would like to say I got up to go after her. But I heard the bathroom door shut and I just lied there. The smell hit me after a few seconds. It smelled like someone rolled a cat in shit and threw it into a tire fire. I looked down and saw, to date, the largest bowel movement I've ever heard of laying on the bed. Then I noticed the blood, and when I did, I noticed the pain.
Apparently the fact that it was so large caused it to rip my ass a little bit (thought I was bleeding from the inside. This little doctors trip the next day is what taught me of my condition). There was a small pool of blood where my ass had been. A final reminder of the exact place and moment I lost my virginity. I will treasure this memory for all my days.
I grab my shit with my hands and go to the downstairs bathroom. I throw around 1/3 into the toilet and flush, fearing any more will clog it and only add to my already significant woes.
I stand there, holding 2/3's of my biggest shit of all time, feeling a trickle of blood flow down my leg, trying to ignore the sharp pain stabbing my rectum. I find myself wishing I had a photo of this.
Anyway, I finish flushing my baby, clean off my hands, jam toilet paper between my cheeks (I skipped the bandaid) and went upstairs. I could hear my girlfriend sobbing from behind the bathroom door. I decided not to say anything to her and just keep moving. The smell in her parents room was abysmal. Its like when you take a shit and walk out of the bathroom you think "hey not so bad today," but then you walk back in to grab your magazine and go "HOLY SHIT!". It was one of those moments.
The scene is burned behind my eyelids for all time. My life. My shame. My very first time smelled like a pile of dead babies. I quickly got dressed since the heat from ten thousand candles was making the room feel more like a port-a-potty. I was aware enough to grab the comforter on my way out and drag it downstairs to their washer. Also the top and bottom sheets since the blood had leaked on through all the way to mattress. Still no sign of the GF but at this point I considered it a blessing.
I jammed in the washer with 3 loads worth of detergent and set it on spin, knowing that not even the hand of God would save these linens, let alone Tide and Snuggles.
Then I left. I avoided my GF's calls for days until she came to my house. We had a long talk about what happened. Talk being synonymous with "breaking up with me because I shit on her". And it was all over. She promised not to tell a soul and I don't THINK she ever did. She was probably as ashamed as I was about the whole deed. But I will always this happening as the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.
Now it's fucking time we took down the worst meme of them all.
(original content warning)
Fuck, I knew something was going on. It's April the 13th and my parents weren't home. This normally wouldn't be a problem -- now that I was 19 they had given me their car for traveling to my job everyday. But this was odd. It's my mothers birthday, and she always napped all day on her birthday. Always. Now she wasn't here, and I was worried about what was going on. But I'm not the man to sweat the small stuff... I just unpacked my bag, headed downstairs to my dungeon, intent on starting my first Epic Fail Guy thread in months. But as I closed the door behind me, I suddenly realized exactly where my mother was -- and exactly what was flashing up on my desktop.
"David..." my mother whispered coldly, holding back her tears. I averted my gaze to the screen. Up there, in its fullscreen glory, was my fap folder. I understood then what had happened. My mother had come home and, since her computer was messing up at the time, decided to use mine for her email. But I had left it on that morning, and forgot to shut down after sharing some intimate time with my hand. I looked closer at the screen for a few moments -- apparently, my mother had happened upon the scat section. I swear I'm not into that stuff... I just keep it for posting in newfag threads to scare off the underage /b/s enough so that they will never return. But I couldn't explain that to my mother. No, this was some fucking epic shit I just got myself into.
"Mum, it's not what it looks like..." She looked up at me, tear droplets sliding down her face. "I.. I didn't know you were into this stuff." I looked down at my feet, knowing full well this is where my life living at my parents house will have to end. She continued talking. "Dave... You... How long have you been hiding this from me?" I looked up. "I don't know where this stuff came from, mum! It must be a virus trying to infiltrate my compu--" She gave me a cold, dark stare that, strangely enough, didn't really bother me. I hadn't expected my mother to buy that story. "David, don't lie to me. This is horrible... disgusting... what you've been doing without me knowing... blah blah blah." I just stood there, trying to conjure up a believable lie on the spot that would cover me. But it didn't work. I had nearly given up and ready to leave the room, when my mother opened up something else.
"Whats this?" she said, regaining much of her strength and wiping away some of the tears. I peered over. Oh great, she'd found my /b/ folder. Half the shit in there she won't get, anyway. Good enough. "Pedo... Bear? I... I can get help for you Dave... If your a pedophile I can get help for you--" This alerted me. "What? No! Mum, thats just a... a joke, thingy, sort of. Don't worry about it."
She continued scrolling down. "Epic.. Fail Guy?" This puzzled her for half a second before she gave up and moved on. "Wait... Whats this?" she said. I looked over, one more time. Oh Christ. Jesus. Fuck. No. No. No. Anything but that.
It gleamed across the screen, staring at me while my mother still tried to comprehend it. There, in all it's glory, was the one and only CandleJa- well, you know who. But my mother didn't. I prayed she wouldn't utter the words, those terrible words..
"Mum, move on please. It's just a little children's cartoon..." She stood still. "Okay Dave, but you know I was around when this thing was still on TV. It's CandleJack, right?"...
All of my worst fears had come true. Before I could pick my mother up, before I could run as far away as possible... I heard a distant rumbling. The room started to shake violently. Was this a dream? It had to be. I pinched myself, but this seemed to only making the rumbling worse. My mothers face indicated she was clearly horrified, she jumped up and grabbed me, whispering "Honey, I want you to know I love you and I forgive you for whatever you have saved onto your--"
And there he stood. Outside my bedroom window. Smiling at both of us. He pierced the glass and walked through. My mother held me tightly. He stretched out a long, spiraling finger, and pointed at my mother. Without thinking, I screamed "No! CandleJack--" and then I realized my mistake. Now, he outstretched is other finger and pointed at me. I turned to my mother, who had passed out on the ground. I turned to run, but before I knew it darkness surrounded the room, and I passed out, as well. The last I saw was his white, gleaming figure looming over our bodies.
A bright light surrounded me. Thank god, I was awake. That was all a dream. I opened my eyes. Fuck. I wasn't in my bed, I was in a strange chamber. Oh well, guess I was still stuck inside this incredible vivid nightmare. I looked to my left, and saw my mother, who had her eyes closed and was praying. I was never the religious type, but I wished I was now... Just to have some hope...
The white, smiling figure strode across the room. As my eyes followed him, I noticed that thousands of people hung surrounding the walls of this chamber... Men, women, and children all guilty of muttering the name of this demonic beast. I tried to untangle myself, but it was no use. To my right hung a guy who, strangely enough, was wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. Ahh, must be a /b/tard. I whispered to him, "The Game." He turned to me, and simply replied with, "Fuck it, I lost." So he definitely was a /b/tard. In fact, many people, including (to my dismay) some of the children, all said, "I lost it," or some variation. At this exact time, a revelation it me. I might just still be able to get out of this place.
I turned to my right and saw my friend again. "Hey, anon. I think we have a chance to get out of here". He turned to me. "Don't even try. I've tried many times, and all that ends up happening is him finding me again. It won't work. Trust me." I guess he'd have to take some convincing. "Well, I've got a plan that will surely get us out. You'd just have to trust ME." I couldn't see his face, but something told me he understood. He took out his phone, and being an anon, it was the newest model. Complete with internet connection and a keypad, both of which we will use. "Pass it to me," I said. He handed it over. I turned the browser to /b/, and started a new thread. I navigated to his /b/ folder and took out a picture of our kidnapper. I typed in something along the lines of "Hey everyo--" and left it at that. I clicked submit, and handed him back his phone. "What did you do?" he questioned. "You'll see," I said reassuringly.
Sure enough, moments later hundreds of voices filled the room, uttering the name that got us here in the first place. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the white figure flee. This was our chance! I turned to my mother. "Mum! Quick, listen!" She opened her eyes and, still not forgetting our little ordeal back at our house, said angrily "What!?" I shouted back, "Do you still have that book I gave you for your birthday?" She fished around in her purse and retrieved it. I opened it up, and sure enough, there was my Swiss army knife enclosed inside. She looked at me with shock, and I lazily replied, "Hey, had to hide it somewhere." I took it out, and managed to hand it back to my new friend, who proceeded to tear away at the weak vines holding us to the wall. It worked in a matter of seconds. He then cut down me and my mother. All three of us dropped down.
I heard a small voice come from the other side of the chamber. "Hey, what about us?" The next stage in my plan was now underway. I ran across and yanked the little kid out. "Right, undress." He looked at me with shock, along with the rest of the room. I immediately heard some zippers unzipping in the back row. "Just down to your underwear. Trust me." Looking up occasionally, he undid himself down to his underwear. My friend turned to me. "I know what your doing, mate, and it won't work. Pedobear goes for little girls. You'll just summon Shotacat." Without moving my gaze I called back "You idiot, pedo doesn't mean only loli, pedo means all underaged." I heard some people agreeing with me from around the room. The anon wasn't about to get into a debate, so he stood back.
I looked at the little kid. "Right, bend over and close your eyes." He did just that. Next, I shouted "Gee, I hope somebody will come and take my kid to his soccer game! I have run out of petrol!" It was rather sad to hear the shouting and screaming from the back row of the chamber, trying to untangle themselves, but that soon died down, and all went quiet. The little boy was sweating violently. And then, we all heared it. An incredible growling sound echoed from the back of the chamber, out of the same door Candle-you-know-who left. Then, the heavenly creature entered the room. Pedobear, in all his glory, had come to snatch the young child. As he walked up, some cheered. Some screamed, and then realized who it was and cheered. Just as Pedobear was within reaching length of the kid, I grabbed the boy and stared at the bear. "You can have him, but you have to do something for us first." The little kid was obviously at objection, but played along for the time being. Pedobear raised his eyebrow, and suddenly I heard a voice in my head. "Okay, what is it?" So that is how he talked. I replied to him, "Call all the memes. Everyone. We need to take down Candle-you-know-who right now. This is our chance. Are you in?" Pedo Bear nodded enthusiastically.
Loud stomping filled the room. Everyone cheered as the first meme entered the room. Longcat strode across, and it was about 5 minutes before his tail caught up. Happy Negro walked in next. Then came Vegeta, next Mudkips (further unzipping sounds were heard) and even Cock Mongler joined the gang. Raptor Jesus came next, with the Card Crusher, Hypnotoad and a giant blackboard with simply the words "The Game" printed out on it (I made sure to shout out, "Don't worry! It hasn't been half an hour yet!"). More and more followed. When supposedly the last one, slowpoke, arrived, I turned to Pedo Bear and got ready to organize my army. The friendly anon poked me. "Dude, wheres epic fail guy?" Shit! How could I forget him? Pedo Bear shrugged, and I realized something rather epic would have to happen to attract him.
But luck was on my side. My friend passed me again his phone when I signaled for it, and I loaded /b/ up. The plan was to get a GET so close that it would have to be a fail. After taking a picture of Slowpoke with the camera on the guys phone, I began scouring /b/ for any possible GETs. Next, I noticed it was close to the 62600000 landmark. I timed myself perfectly, and hit submit (along with Slowpoke's picture) just at the right time. When I refreshed, I realized to all my horror that I had actually achieved the GET I set out to fail. This was an incredible win! I started whimpering. My friend retrieved his phone and started patting me on the back. "Ahh well, guess EFG will have to be left out of this one." But then it hit me. I set out to fail, and I won. That means I failed at failing. Could that be a double negative, implying I failed? Probably not. Who was I kiddi...
And then I heard it. The crowed in the chamber cheered, louder than they ever did before. The one and only Epic Fail Guy strode in, and stood before me. He then tripped over, and smacked head bang into the little kid, causing them both to get knocked out. "Yeah, thats our Epic Fail Guy!" I smiled. Then I suddenly remembered. What the hell was happening? We had a plan to do! We had to defeat CandleJa- err, that horrible guy. I jumped up to the top of a suspended beam.
My eyes scanned the entire room. Meme\s all stood in the center, with people from all cultures and age groups hung up on the walls. "Now, I'm not normally the one for speeches," I bellowed. "But I think it's high time we took these fucking fake memes down!" I heared cheering come from all angles. I hushed the crowed down. "We did it with WHEN I WAS. We did it with Milhouse. Now it's fucking time we took down the worst meme of them all. Who's with me?" Everyone cheered again.
When the cheering stopped, I turned to Pedo Bear. "You know what to do once he gets here, don't you?" The huge bear nodded. I bellowed to the crowed, "It's every man for themselves once he arrives. Get out of here. I'm not sure where this chamber is, but you'll all have to find your ways back home. Clear?" Most of the crowed shouted back in agreement. Now was the time. I turned to my mother, who had passed out some time ago. Then I looked at my friend. He nodded. "Do it for the Lulz, brother. The Lulz." I nodded. "For the Lulz."
I stood up as high as my legs could take me. I took in much oxygen. Then, I screamed with all my might,"CANDLEJACK!!!"
And with that, he entered the room, and all the memes lunged at him, ready to kill him once and fo
Chocolate Tree Trunks In My Girlfriend's House
Okay I have one to trump everything. It will sound unbelievable, and like it should have been an episode of Seinfeld, cause everything went wrong. I swear that this is 100% true, unaltered.
Part one: The Broom
This tale is about the first time I took a shit in my girlfriend's house. I'm 19, and a freshman from college. This took place during Spring Break, and I was hanging out at her's and her mom's house on the last day. We've dated since last February, but I refuse to shit in front of her. The reason? I take massive shits. Like, large paper towel tube sized, painful shits. I could clog an airplane toilet if I wanted. We're hanging out in her room, watching Top Chef, and I feel it. I feel that familiar pain in my smaller intestines. "Run" says my mind.
I run into their shared bathroom, drop trou, and lay the biggest turd I've ever had to push out of my 6'6" build. It hit the water so hard, so densely, that water SHOT out of the toilet, in front of my... phallic organ, and went on the floor in front of the toilet. My girlfriend knocks asking if I'm okay. It had been 25 minutes. I tell her I'm fine, just go back. She doesn't ask anymore- she's heard stories of my chocolate tree trunks.
I use toilet paper, stand up, and flush. Just as I thought, a clog. 'No prob', I say to myself as I reach for the plunger. But instead of my rubber and wooden savior, there is only a void. They do NOT OWN A PLUNGER. Who the fuck doesn't own one? Two females living with no male, that's who. I crack the door and tell her to go buy me a pack of my Marlboro Red 100's. She goes out the garage to my car, time to get to work.
I run around the house, pants at my ankles (I was panicking, screw you), looking for a plunger. None. So I do the only rational thing that came into my mind. I went to the garage.
I run back to the bathroom, with a broom in hand. My turd has evolved while I left. Half was stuck in the hole leading to the pipes, and half broke off like the Titanic, and became a floater. 'Fuck this turd', I think as I turn the broom around, and use the handle to break up the biggest shit I've ever seen in my life. I break it up, it flushes, and I step back to admire it.
I FUCKING SLIP ON THE WATER THAT ORIGINALLY SHOT OUT OF THE TOILET WHEN IT HIT THE TOILET. I fall, and land in her tub, pants still down. I have the broom in my right hand, and something else in my left. As I fell, I grabbed out to catch myself, and ripped the fucking shower head out of the wall. There is now a small hole in the wall, and a roughly 1 foot long pipe attached to a shower in my hand. When I put it back in, it slumps and is obvious. So I wrap it in bandaids, sticky side out, and cram a MaxiPad in there with the pipe. All is well. I hear the garage open, so I run through the living room, and kitchen, and just stick the broom in the washing room. (I couldn't put it back in the garage, my girlfriend was coming though it). We go back, watch TV, all is well.
Part Two: That Night
Her mom was making dinner for us that night, rice, pork, and breaded plantains. As she's putting the rice in a bowl, she slips on some water the broom dripped onto the kitchen floor. So there's rice on the floor, what to do? Grab the broom that's in her sight, in the laundry room. The broom from Part One. She sweeps it all up, trashes it, and then comments on how her hands smell like shit. My blood runs cold as I just realized what happened. She washes her hands, and it still smells. So what's a woman to do?
She gets in the shower. That fucking shower from Part One. She turns on the water, and I'm almost in TEARS in the other room from fright, wondering what will happen when they find out I used the broom to break up my shit that clogged the toilet.
Shower on...POP, Scream... *CRASH, *LOUDEST SCREAM I'VE EVER HEARD.
Now, here's how it looked if there were footage in the bathroom of this. The shower worked briefly, but the water pressure was a little low. That's because their pipe was leaking slowly... onto that MaxiPad I shoved in there, which was expanding rapidly. The water rushing outside the pipe, and I only assume the pad contributed to this, essentially shot this shower head at my girlfriend's mother, making her fall out of the shower, onto the bathroom floor. That accounts for the POP, SCREAM, and CRASH.
But where did that other scream, the loud one come from? Let me tell you.
She laid on the floor, head facing the toilet. She laid there, face to face with the biggest turd ever faced by man. Apparently when I was Hulk Hogan'ing that turd, the water level was even with the bowl, and the floater just rolled out, onto the floor, behind the toilet. I had no idea.
Now someone else lives with them, her mom's friend. She has a boyfriend who comes in, threatens people, trashes the house, is a nutjob. I lead them with my talking to believe HE did it. He's no longer allowed back in the house.
So there you have it. That's the end of my terrible horrific tale that happened to me March 23, 2008. I guarantee that it is 100% true, you will never find it in print or anywhere else on the internet. If either of them ever find out, I'm fucking dead.
PS: I threw away the broom in a dumpster as I left the house, they didn't know I took it. Yeah, it smelled like shit. The biggest shit you would have ever seen.
Sperm is Art
As an artist, I am constantly struggling to find ways to challenge the limits of my chosen medium, which is sperm, and push my audience toward a higher level of both cognition and meta cognition--to see, in other words, the art beyond the art, the way the art steps beyond being an object of "art," so to speak, and invokes a definition that calls into question the very fabric of life and existence and our species' interaction with the physical and emotional world. For example, my last piece, "Jerking Off On The Orange Line," was intended to push the boundaries of physical expression and inspire self-reflection among the three Catholic high school girls at the end of the car, whose expectation of a Metro ride without the opportunity to witness another human masturbating was challenged--I think, for the better. Its follow-up piece, "Running Pantless Through the Station," was a breathless exploration of the nexus where the tyranny of law enforcement intersects with the vibrant pulse of individuality and liberal expression. "My Cock In Her Sleeping Mouth," perhaps one of my most controversial pieces, explored the biological, social, physical, and emotional consequences of one-sided fellatio, and often misunderstood expression of deep, abiding affection. Its follow-up, "Ejaculate on Her Forehead," takes this a step further, calling into question the ideas of what it means to "own" ones own skin. Symbolically, in turning her white with my love, I am exploring complex issues of race and challenging my audience to question their own biases, prejudgments, and narrow world views.
WHAT GOOD IS BALTIMORE WITHOUT FUCKING TOAST?!
Greetings cockpears,
I was at Baltimore for the past couple of days. I spent most of the time down at the inner harbor, partaking in such activities as convincing old women that the lobster at Uno's pizza is fantastic and trying to make off with a young couple's dog. However, during the midday of this Thursday, I stopped into the nearby Best Buy. After browsing the aisles a fair bit, I noticed on thing:
Toasters. There were only like, 6 fucking toasters. SIX FUCKING TOASTERS. WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL THE GODDAMN TOASTERS.
I asked the nearby sales associate what the fuck was this shithole's deal, and he gave me the usual "I'm sorry sir, any complaints should be given to our feedbacsaiofhaweuiofhsdnc" bullshit. I told that cunt patriot bastard to get the fuck out of "my city's Best Buy and that my taxpayer soup wouldn't bring his mother out of the mental institution". I don't know, my singed bread-induced rage was peaking and causing me to spew more than one angered nonsensical word-floods.
But seriously, WHAT GOOD IS BALTIMORE IF YOU CANT MAKE FUCKING TOAST? FUCKING MARYLAND. FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING CRAB SHIRTS AND YOUR FUCKING BOATS. FUCK.
So anyway, I'm sitting here with around 4 Best Buy flashlights. I would recommend them to you, /b/, they're pretty good.
Gamestop Girl
Dearest GameStop Girl,
When I walked into your store that fateful Tuesday, I expected only to find a smattering of half-decent titles tucked back there amongst the used 360 games. Instead I found you, surrounded by a beam of light, halfway between Assassin's Creed and Call of Duty 3. Your gorgeous dark hair was radiant in contrast with the rainbow of colors on the deluxe Bioshock behind you. The Game of the Year held no interest for me when I saw you look up and smile, even though both could hold me in Rapture.
You commanded the register when it was my turn to check out with the Orange Box. Yes, I was finally getting to play Portal. Lucky me, you said with the cutest smile. Lucky me, I thought, and then knew you had the Portal to my heart. I could care less if the cake is a lie, I'd still want to share it with you.
Oh GameStop Girl, how you make my heart meter skip a beat. If you were being held captive in a mountain fortress by a ruthless mutant mafia gangboss and I had to fight my way through 16 levels of fire-breathing undead ninjas with swords the size of small ponies, I would find a way, even if, after every level, a small man continued to taunt me by saying that you were in another castle. EVEN IF.
So, yes, GameStop Girl, I want to kill robotic zombie terrorists with you. You can even have the deluxe shotgun with explosive scattershot. I'll just use this knife over here. I'll do anything for you, just for the small, slightest chance that someday - someday - you and me could be a Wii.
The bird
Gentlemen, I just entered my aviary, within which I own two pink necklaceatiels, these birds are scared to hell of me and will go nuts when I am inside. I began scaring them, making them fly over the small aviary, eventually I picked one and made sure he never had any rest in between fear-flights. Once he was tired, I began to corner him, I grabbed ahold of him, he began biting and clawing at me, I threw him onto the ground, and kicked him. I did not expect him to be alive after this, but he was very much so - and still quite feisty, but unable to really fly now. I pulled down my pants and got on my knees, I began masturbating with my left hand, while I had the bird in my right hand. I was holding onto him by his tail feathers, keeping him upside-down, whenever he would attempt to fly away, I would whack him against the wired wall of the aviary. Eventually his tail feathers fell off, he fell to the ground - he made no attempt to escape. I latched onto him, he began biting me. Whenever he would try to chew on me, I would cease masturbating and flick him in the head and mildly tighten my grip. Two minutes pass and the bird's eyes start to close, his head is tilting whichever way gravity wishes, no longer shaking in fear at what is happening to him. Soon after, the bird is dead. While it was not my intention to kill him, I was pleased at this moment, as it gave me the opportunity to cum on his face, which I would not have attempted to do so easily while he was alive and attempting to bite anything he could. I get up, my legs and pants are covered in birdseed and feathers, I leave them off, knowing I'll need to clean up. I throw the corpse at the second bird as I leave the aviary. It has been about half an hour, that second bird has not moved an inch since I left; it is very possible that he will die of pure stress.
anon save life?
/b/ I saved a life today it happened on my flight back from Puerto Rico. When we first boarded the plane they made an announcement that they had someone one on board who was deafly allergic to nuts. So half way through the flight i see one of the flight crew walking back to the rear of the plane. At first im like oh shit we all gonna die cause he was looking very worried. Also at this time the plane made a wide turn pointing us completely away form our destination which was JFK. So where all sitting there like oh fuck making our peace with god believing that the plane could turn into a fucking fireball any moment. Then one of the flight attendants came over the loud speaker asking is there a doctor on the plane? Now im a paramedic so i headed over to the back of the plane to see whats happening. when i get there i see a poor bastard in anaphylactic shock apparently some wise ass thought it was smart to open up a can of peanuts. so i started treating him since he had his meds with him but then his fucking heart stops. so i start cpr immediately asking if there is a AED machine on board there is thank god so the flight attendant runs and gets it . I was able to shock the poor bastard back to life and get him stable so the plane could finish its flight to JFK he was still in danger as long as that peanut dust was in the air so we started our final approach into JFK and the pilot at this time was hauling fucking ass to get us into the airport quick we landed at like 200 something miles per hour. as soon as the plane stopped moving i could hear sirens headed towards the plane and in like 30 mins the rear cabin door burst open and they rushed the poor bastard out. i later learned that if it had not been for my actions then he most likely would have died. Also after the flight the captain bought me a drink it was awesome.
Girls, Girls, Girls
Heh heh heh.. I love you... I love all of ya!
I got girls, girls, girls, girls, girls all over the net.
So put your myspace on that paper cause I would love to rape ya
I-M ya when I come online
I got this furry chick, who swears she's a vix
Had me fuck her mary-sue in her Ducktales fic
Told me she was a vampire and had a coven
So I beat her down screaming FURFAG GOES IN EVERY OVEN
I got this femanon who loves to get it on
Posts pictures of her tits and lets the virgins fawn
Trolls threads in /b/ with her menstrual spawn
Cracky, girl, I love you but you're already gone.
I got this weeabo bitch with Japan on the brain
She's hot online but IRL she's kinda plain
Dreams of being Susuke but I won't let that pass
So I fucked her full force in the vagoo mouth and ass.
I got this Wow addict who's never asleep
Can't suck my dick cause she's raiding Tempest Keep
10 percent loot chance made her a mindless sheep
And she's next in line for Necklace of the Deep.
So that's Furry, Nightelf, Wapanese and Cracky
That means I yiff while crying inside and pretend I'm happy
That means I farm essences, plus I eat Pocky
And I'd give it all up to live in NZ with my baby
I got girls, girls, girls, girls, girls all over the net.
So put your myspace on that paper cause I would love to rape ya
I-M ya when I come online
I got girls, girls, girls, girls, girls all over the net.
I got this Gaia chick, she's so immature
So much shit on her avatar she must be a whore
Always trying to raid her but its such a chore
Followed me back to /b/ and made the cancer rate soar.
I got this Deviant chick who don't know how to art
Has 200 deviations of pairings from Mario Kart
All she cares about is praise so I played the part
And said she's the next Snapesnogger, just to win her heart.
I got this Craigslist slut with Herpes and Down's
Claimed she weighed 120 but lied by two hundred pounds
Now my cock is always itchy and it's turning brown
She stole my laptop and my moneys and then skipped town.
I got this newfag girl who don't know how to act
Always shouting memes in public and saying THE BEST in the sack.
Told her relationship threads were cancer but she was quick to forget
And made a "Do you think I'm pretty" post for the 50 million get.
I got girls, girls, girls, girls, girls all over the net.
So put your myspace on that paper cause I would love to rape ya
I-M ya when I come online
I got girls, girls, girls, girls.
Hi /b/......I'm new here. >_>;;
Hi /b/.......Im new here. >_>;;
I was wondering if any of u knew how 2 register here........I dont see any place where i can log in. Also, why when u post, your post disappears from the list of posts? Why cant it just go directly to your post. Well anyway i wanted to show u guys some funny pics.....
[img]C:\Documents and Settings\Lisa\My Documents\My Pictures\sleepy_cat.jpg[/img]
[img]C:\Documents and Settings\Lisa\My Documents\My Pictures\woops1.gif[/img]
i hope u guys enjoy them....also, please welcome me to /b/, i hope you are all friendly and treat me well. :D
First let me introduce myself......my fav animes are Naruto InuYasha and Bleach, and i like listening to music (my favorite bands are Fallout Boy and Pink floyd, my favorite song is We Dont Need No Education by Pink Floyd). also, the power level is OVER 9000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! XD madnes??? THIS IS
[color=red]SPARTA!!!!!!!!!!!![/color]
also, how cum (lol cum) you have to attach a pic? how ghey is that? :p here's a funny pic i found the other day when i was surfing the internet. :cool:
Christian Jailbait
From 711chan
You wouldn't believe it, Sean. I just had the weirdest fucking experience ever. My GF had left earlier this week with her sorority sisters. GF is hot as shit, we seriously have sex like every other day. Strange thing is, she's a pretty strict Christian. Her family is even worse, they have all sorts of crosses hanging on the walls and creepy ass doe-eyed baby jesus porcelain dolls placed around the house. I swear she recites fifty Hail Mary's before bed each night.
Just as you'd suspect though, this shit turns on me the worst way possible. I've never been religious myself, but the idea of corrupting the pure turns me on to the point of madness. However, she had left me alone to fap this week, and it was driving me nuts. During one said fap session, her little sister calls my cell phone, asking if I would bring her ipod to her (Apparentely big sis borrows things without permission sometimes) Being thirteen, she can't drive. She gave me the address of her stepfather's, and said to come right in, as she was alone and might be in the shower. yes, /b/, a thirteen year old alone at home, naked, and me with my balls bluer than the skies themselves. I knew I had to strike.
Lost for half an hour, driving around an unknown neighborhood on the opposite of town, I was getting distressed. It would be infinitely easier to have walked in on her "accidentally" in the shower, but thanks to the fucking moron who designed the neighborhood, my time had pretty much run out. I decided to stop at a gas station and ask for directions. As I approached the clerk at the desk, I shit bricks...her dad was there. Not the stepdad, the real dad. Little did he know I was fully prepared to sully his baby girl. He left as I shared some empty jokes and small take with the cashier, then I asked for the information. Turns out there were two roads with the same name, one a street and the other an avenue.
The house was easy to find as soon as I got on the right road. I went into the house and she called me from upstairs, saying she was done with the shower. "Dammit" I thought. I had lost my chance. I walked up the stairs thinking of a an alternative strategy. As I entered her room, I immediately realized I didn't need one. She lay on her bed with a thin light blue nightgown with heavenly silk white panties, The nightgown left nothing to the imagination, her round nipples were already standing upright in their blessed pink glory. She drew me in with a wave of her finger, biting her lower lip. She told me she wanted to thank me for bringing her the ipod, and wanted to apologize for her sister leaving me alone for so long.
Game as I was, something wasn't adding up right. Call it a gut feeling, /b/, but something felt amiss in the air. However, when you have unspoiled christian jailbait waiting for you, reality just sort of crumbles apart. And the only thing you desire to do is obey. The softness of her nightgown was bested only by the delicacy of her young, unspoiled chest. Her hair smelled of lilacs, thanks to the shampoo she must have just used. Her breath was warm on my neck as I descended upon her slender frame, my hands gliding across her milky thighs, inviting her touch like they had been forbidden for my entire life. As I traced my hands under the elegant cotton panties, she sighed contentedly and whispered in my ear "Read the first word of each paragraph of the story, for me, please." I paused...what the fuck did she mean? And then it hit me. It was all over. I was fucked.
cut vs uncut
DEAR CUT VS. UNCUT FAGS! 4chan is my favorite gay forum so it tears my heart up to see you hate each other. That's why I'm posting a docking picture. The purest way an uncut fag can express love to a cutfag by sharing his foreskin.
I'm a cutfag, and I like having a clean, smooth, thick , windblown, cock that takes a little bit longer to cum and tastes like sucking the lightly salted neck of my lover.
I'm attracted to uncutfags, asian traps mainly, with their cute little PENIS all protected and wet, ready to cum because it's so sensitive with just a hint of pungency to it. But I don't just like to peel it back and suck it, sometimes i want his foreskin to come forward and hug my cock and let my roughneck PENIS with a 2/3 less STD rate due to it's lack of an absorbing surface outside of the urethra, Let it know it can have a soft caring home to keep it comfy and safe.
I don't want my head to be moist all the time, I like my lover to make it moist with his mouth which he does often because it tastes no different then any other part of my skin. I wouldn't have my lover any other way then what he is though. In all his sensitive, cute, uncut glory.
So i ask you to put down the keyboards of war and embrace the NEW /b/ with peace, love, and docking
An Autobiographical Account of a Chain of Events
I am presenting you with an autobiographical account of the chain of events that incited a chaotic, topsy-turvy time in my life. I beg of you to remain within a close proximity for but a scant few moments as I recount how I metamorphosed into the heir apparent of the municipality referred to as Bel-Air, California.
Amidst the occident of Philadelphia I had been sprung to life and had been nourished. A lion's share of my youth and adolescence was consumed by the outdoor entertainment facilities at the park. Carousing with my pals, merrymaking to my maximum ability, and unwinding, I often partook in a friendly match of basketball at the schoolhouse's arena.
It was during one of these excursions that a pair of rabble-rousing fellows instigated malevolence. I took part in nothing but a single skirmish, yet my mother became immersed in fear, at which point she commanded me to transfer my residence from her dwelling to that of my aunt and uncle in Bel-Air, California.
I proceeded to hail a taxi and, upon its arrival, I made out an inscription on the license plate that read "FRESH" and was intrigued by a pair of dice draped over the rearview mirror. If nothing else, a claim could be made that this particular taxi was atypical; however, I came to the conclusion that recollecting this occasion in the future would be a fruitless venture, so in lieu of attempting to implant this incident within my memory, I implored the chauffeur to transport me to my destination of Bel-Air, California.At approximately the seventh or eighth hour, I disembarked and proceeded to inform the driver that I would inevitably become acquainted with his odor at a later point in time.
At this juncture, I beheld my new abode and came to grips with the fact that my mission to become the heir apparent in Bel-Air, California, had been consummated.
Ant Problem
/b/ downstairs, my house has a major ant problem. Luckily I reside upstairs. Nevertheless, once every 5 minutes or so an ant comes trotting along my desk. First I place a coin or another object in its path. This confuses the ant, causing it to run off in a different direction, but my finger is waiting. I block its path with my finger. It runs in the opposite direction, but I anticipate this. Soon the ant is encircled by pens and other barriers, and if it attempts to climb them, swift punishment is issued. The ant remains in my arena. Then I take my knife, and nimbly place the tip onto one of its legs, holding it in place, then I press down hard and chop the leg off. The ant does not run, it merely enters a craze moving all around wildly. I allow it to suffer like this for a minute or so, chopping off another leg if it appears not to be in pain. Then comes a decision. Sometimes I will wait for another ant, and place it in the arena to see what it does. Occasionally it will pick up its comrade, and run off, but this is an offense punishable by death. Other times, I will merely watch the ant until it gives up. It will stop moving all but one leg. At this point I give in and slice the ant in two, putting it out of its misery. I save the corpses in a small pile, and once I have a considerable stack, I scatter them in my arena. This is where the real fun begins.
I venture outside to my back yard and find a red ant. This is my gladiator. I return to my room and place him in among the corpses. He wanders, confused. I do not let him leave. I pound the desk near him with my fingers, scaring him. I toughen my gladiator up until another ant comes along. I place the intruder into the arena. The red ant will go after the black ant, and they engage in mortal combat. If the red ant wins, another corpse decorates my arena. If the black ant vanquishes his foe, he wins the prize of life. I carry him in my hands and bring him downstairs and place him among his comrades. If he put up a good fight, I give him a warriors welcome and feed his colony with bread. If he barely defeated the red ant, he receives no food, only the gift of life. This is how i spent my afternoons.
To kill a woman on the inside.
Either from 7chan or originally posted on Craigslist
I’ll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago: I got a vasectomy. I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.
I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. wacky girl.
We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her - as I was to find out - it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.
Four months into dating, I get the “I’m pregnant” talk. She’s going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married “for the baby”. She’s positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she’s gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.
At this point, I’m just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse “oops” on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can’t think beyond their own uteri.
So I wait a couple of days to “think about all this.” I meet her again. I say I don’t want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batsh*t insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.
Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I’m laughing hysterically.
It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a “negative test result for sperm” to show I’m sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I’m ready.
I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.
She’s all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly - or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. “Are you sure that this baby is mine?”
Well, she goes batsh*t insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she’s really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she’s a slut. I’m just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities… blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.
I’m not really mad. I’m kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won’t shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.
I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.
I tell her simply, “You’re screwed”.
Her look doesn’t change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.
I continue. “I am sterile”
Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women’s logic. “You’re full of sh*t. You’re trapped and you know it.”
I hold up the letter and the test results. “Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine.”
This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. “Bullsh*t, those are fakes.”
I was ready for that. “No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It’s a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine.”
I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It’s a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.
I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.
Epilogue -
I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. wacky me for thinking the best of American women.
The Moral of the Story -
Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.
Screwed-Over Screenplay
Dear /b/,
Several months ago, my brother wrote a screenplay, which he then sent to me for my input. I suggested changes, altered some dialog for clarity, nothing major. Over the following weeks, it evolved into more of a collaborative effort--a number of phone calls and email exchanges saw the script evolving in new directions. Eventually, once the script was in a form that we were comfortable with, it began to make the rounds of friends and associates. Soon, a producer at Warner Brothers expressed an interest in receiving the script, but told my brother he had to obtain the services an agent before he could even read a single page of it. My brother and I soon learned the gigantic roadblocks associated with acquiring an agent--most won't give you the time of day unless you already have a favorable relationship with a Hollywood power-broker, who can call the agency on your behalf and recommend they take you on as a client (the producer at Warners informed us that he could not perform this service on our behalf, as it violated several rules established by the Writer's Guild of America). I contacted all of those I knew who might be of help, but all of my contacts are in the contemporary art world, and they either express outright disdain for Hollywood, or only have a passing relationship to those who might be able to be of help. Things looked bleak, and several weeks passed with only a smattering of failed contacts and dead-ends.
About a week ago, at the prompting of his wife, my brother attended a seminar on promoting screenplays, hosted by a writer who quickly befriended my brother after the talk was over (thanks to common views on a number of issues). The writer asked to read my brother's screenplay, and after doing so, immediately suggested contacting a producer he was friends with. That producer, along with the writer, were both ecstatic about it. As it happened, the producer who read the script is friends with the main producer of the film franchise we wrote it for, and he arranged a meeting at Warner Brothers this Friday to pitch it to him. We have been told that the script may potentially sell to the studio for close to a million dollars, and already there is a major action star who wants his name attached to the script as the film's villain (I can't reveal his name him yet, as his involvement is still not set in stone--as a clue, his initials make you think of STDs). Additionally, two writers from the last film in the franchise will attempt to take the script to the film's director tomorrow, as both are wildly enthusiastic about it.
Sadly, the studio has demanded that my co-writing credit be stricken from the script, so that the director can substitute his own. I am aware that this is simply the way these things work, and I love my brother a great deal, so this has not been a major sticking point for me. Indeed, the producer was so tremendously impressed by the initial screenplay, he is arranging a deal with my brother by which he has first crack at any of our future work, so this is the potential start of an entirely new career. Even if the script does not sell to Warner Brothers at the meeting on Friday, the studio will also be hearing a pitch for a script we haven't even written yet, but one that has enough buzz the description alone attracted the immediate attention of another action star (again, I can't reveal his name--my brother would murder me if he knew I was writing this journal at all).
The script going to Warners on Friday bears the following title, altered with asterisks to avoid explicitly revealing it here and getting me killed:
The M** of St***
If it goes into production, it should be ready for release in the Summer of 2009.
To all of my friends here, I ask for your support as this critical day approaches...
All of my love, Anonymous
Spider Gladiators
Ok /b/ so here is the situation
I have been keeping and saving any and all spiders I find running around my house. I keep them alive in little tuba wear containers and drop in crickets or whatever random feeder bugs I find at the local petsmart. Anyway,
I recently have erected a spider battle arena out of cardboard and sugar cubes. I have about 22 spiders in surplus and plan to make them do one on one combat in a tournament of epic proportions. The loser is devoured by the winner and the winner becomes stronger. He then lives on to do battle against the next opponent. Whichever spider is left standing after the other 21 have died will go on to the final round. There is a prey mantis I bought at the vivarium named Charley. The final spider gladiator will do battle with Charley the mantis. If the spider actually manages to beat Charley he will be declared the king of spider land and flushed down the toilet afterwards.
Urethral Rocket
Sup /b/ So I know you folks are all a bunch of sexual deviants, and I must admit I’ve done some weird stuff myself. One thing I tried was urethral stimulation, ala Guts by Chuck Palahniuk, you know the story where the kid sticks the wax in his dick and it goes into his bladder. Shit like that, except I was smarter about it. I had a girlfriend at the time, keep in mind that I HAD a girlfriend. She was one of those cute little Christian girls, the kind who are so easy to corrupt if you know what you’re doing. Anyway, I’d convinced her to blow me once or twice, never let me finish in her mouth though. Handjobs were pretty routine by now, but I’d been experimenting with sticking a length of thin wire in my dick while jacking off.
So I’ve done this a few times, not very often, it just seemed like too much work. But one night my parents were out for dinner and I invited my girlfriend over. We hung out, played Brawl and whatnot. Later in the evening she’s looking to be in one of those moods, but when she reaches to unzip my pants I tell her to hold on. I pull this wire out of my pocket and work it into my urethra. At first she’s freaked out, but I convince her that it’s okay, that it makes it feel way better. She’s still a bit weirded out, but agrees to go with it.
She works me to an erection and takes most of my dick in her mouth, the girl had definitely gotten better since I met her. She’s taking it easy, working up and down, licking the head, I tell her to watch the wire poking out most of my dick. It was fucking heavenly, this girl choking down my dick, my pisshole filled and stretched so I every lick, every touch rubbed my stretched nerve endings.
She keeps going at it, I’m about ready to come when she tries taking me into her throat. I almost blow my load right there, but she keeps going. As I go into her throat about the fourth time I can feel myself cumming. Suddenly she takes her mouth off, gagging, I guess she wasn’t used to deepthroating yet. It was too late for me though, she coughed and looked at me. She started to say something, but all I could do is moan as I shot my load.
Here’s the funny thing about putting stuff in your dick, unlike Guts, whatever is in there when you come gets pushed out along with the jizz. Well, I hadn’t whacked off in a few days, and I was getting a blowjob, so you can imagine the force with which this metal wire was propelled forth from my dick. Essentially, I harpooned my girlfriend in the eye with a length of soldering wire. It actually stuck in her eye for a few seconds before she knocked it out and ran off. The poor girl locked herself in my bathroom for almost 15 minutes, when she came out, oh lawd. She was quite pissed, understandably, she wouldn’t even let me apologize. Needless to say, we never really saw eachother after that, she didn’t even talk to me for about 2 months after the incident. Seeing her at school the next day with an eyepatch almost made it all worthless. Man the harpoons!
We Have All Lost A Friend Today...
I'm afraid I have some very sad news to convey. Most of us are aware of the trials and tribulations Lexi ( of FatFantasy.net) had endured due to her failing health. After a long and courageous battle for over 15 years, she has succumbed to complications from Addison’s Disease. Alexis “Lexi” Adams, age 50, passed away early this morning, April 16, 2008 at 1251 am at Florida East Hospital in Orlando Florida. At this point in time there are no plans for a wake/viewing but there will be a graveside service on Tuesday 4-22-08 @ Mount Nebo Kendall Memorial Gardens in Miami. Florida. If you wish to send flowers, send them to Mount Nebo Kendall Memorial Gardens For Irene Alexis Adams 4-22-08 5900 SW 77th Ave Miami Florida 33143 Phone is 305 274-5906 Those who wish to contact her partner Ciar to express your condolences, please email me at [email protected] and I will give you direct contact information for him She was a rare shining star in all ways, and she touched the hearts and souls of so many. She leaves a huge gap in our lives. She gave of herself to so many people and interests, and wherever she was she left a most magical beautiful light. An icon in the BBW Adult industry, a dear friend, and an incredible woman has left us today… we will never be the same. Our lives are forever changed, but we carry her positive spirit in us and will continue to spread his desire for peace, love and size acceptance in the world. To know her was to love her Irene Alexis "Lexi" Adams 7/13/57 – 4/16/08
TRUE STORIES FROM SEAN'S CHILDHOOD
from 711chan
I ONCE SHAT IN MY PANTS IN 1ST GRADE, SUDDENLY, AND WAS SO HORRIFIED THAT I RAN INTO THE CAFETERIA BATHROOM AND HID IN A STALL, TRYING DESPERATELY TO CLEAN MY BROWN-STAINED TIGHTYWHITIES. AFTER ABOUT 10 MINUTES OF CAREFUL FECES EXCAVATION, I STUFFED MY PANTS FULL OF TOILET PAPER AND WADDLED AROUND SCHOOL FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.
THE COMBINATION OF THE STENCH AND THIS BIZARRE SPECTACLE CAUSED A TEACHER TO CALL MY MOM AS I WAS ON THE BUS, SO WHEN I GOT HOME SHE GENTLY TOOK ME INTO THE BATHROOM AND ASKED ME WHAT WAS IN MY PANTS...
UNABLE TO FORMULATE ANY REASONABLE EXPLAINATION THAT COULD GLOSS OVER THE HORROR OF THE TROUSER-SHITTING, I TOLD HER THAT THE CLOTTED WADS OF DAMP TOILET PAPER WERE A "SURPRISE PRESENT".
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IN OUR SECOND GRADE, EACH DAY STARTED OUT WITH THE WHOLE CLASS SITTING IN A CIRCLE ON THE CARPET WHILE THE TEACHER WOULD TELL US WHAT ACTIVITIES WERE PLANNED FOR THAT DAY. SHE WAS OLD AND GOT THE ONE CUSHION TO SIT ON. ANYWAY, THERE WAS A MILDLY OBESE BUT OTHERWISE UNREMARKABLE GIRL IN OUR SECOND GRADE CLASS NAMED JENN OR SOMETHING. ONE DAY, HALFWAY THROUGH THIS UNCOMFORTABLE AND BORING SESSION, SHE FARTED EXTREMELY LOUDLY, AND THEN SORT OF CASUALLY LOOKED AROUND AT THE CLASS WITH THIS BLISSFUL, OBLIVIOUS SMILE ON HER FACE. WE ALL STARTED LAUGHING AND THE SMILE FADED IN ABOUT HALF A SECOND, AND WAS REPLACED BY A FLASH OF INSIGHT FOLLOWED BY TEARS. SHE RAN OUT OF THE ROOM.
I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'RE FAMILIAR WITH DOMINANCE HIERARCHIES IN NATURE BUT FOR EXAMPLE IN A PACK OF WOLVES, THE BOTTOM WOLF'S LIFE IS COMPLETE, UNRELENTING HELL AS ALL THE OTHERS SAVAGELY TORMENT IT TO REINFORCE THEIR OWN MORE DOMINANT POSITION. ONE SLIP OF THIS HAPLESS GIRL'S CLENCHED BUTTOCKS INSTANTLY AND PERMANENTLY REDUCED HER TO THIS POSITION FOR THE ENTIRE REST OF ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. THAT IS, FROM GRADES TWO THROUGH EIGHT SHE WAS ABSOLUTELY REVILED BY US ALL AND HAD NO FRIENDS EXCEPT WHEN ADULTS - WHO COULD NOT POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND THE INTRICATE LAWS OF STATUS - FORCED US TO INVITE HER TO OUR BIRTHDAY PARTIES. WE WOULD DEVISE GRIM POTENTIAL SCENARIOS: WOULD IT BE WORSE TO KISS JENN ON THE LIPS FOR 3 MINUTES OR HAVE TO HAVE ONLY NASTY SCHOOL SLOPPY JOES FOR LUNCH UNTIL YOU DIED? WOULD IT BE WORSE TO HAVE JENN SIT ON YOUR FACE NAKED OR LOSE A FINGER? WE YELLED THESE AT HER ON THE PLAYGROUND.
ONE SLIP OF THE BUTT-CHEEKS AND YOUR LIFE IS FUCKED.
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AT SOME POINT, MY SISTER AND I GOT INTO A SAVAGE FIGHT IN THE BACK YARD OVER THE USE OF THE SLIP-N-SLIDE. THAT IS TO SAY, IT WOULD BE FAIR FOR US TO TAKE TURNS BUT BOTH OF US WANTED TO SIMPLY SLIDE BACK AND FORTH ON IT WITHOUT INTERRUPTION. AS WITH MANY WARS, CONTROL OF NATURAL RESOURCES WAS AT THE HEART OF THIS CONFLICT.
I MANAGED TO GET BEHIND HER, AND TWISTED HER ARM AROUND, RENDERING HER HELPLESS. USING MY ARM-LEVERAGE I FORCED HER OVER TO THE FLOWER BED, AND DEMANDED THAT SHE EAT A HANDFUL OF MUD, OR I WOULD PUNCH HER IN THE FACE. UNHAPPILY SHE COMPLIED, AND THEN RAN INSIDE TO TELL MY PARENTS ABOUT THIS "TREATY OF VERSAILLES"-STYLE ABUSE OF MY VICTORY. MY DAD ANGRILY CALLED OUT TO THE GARDEN FOR ME TO COME INSIDE BECAUSE "WE HAVE SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT". MY OTHER SIBLINGS HOWLED "PUNISH HIM", HOPING FOR A RARE SPANKING. HE TOLD ME THAT WHAT I DID WAS WRONG, AND THAT I WOULD HAVE TO PAY FOR IT.
WHILE I WAITED FEARFULLY, HE PRONOUNCED HIS JUDGEMENT: I WAS TO GO TO MY ROOM FOR HALF AN HOUR. MY SISTER CRIED "WHAT??????" IN SHOCK AS I RAN UP THE STAIRS LAUGHING.
TO THIS DAY, SHE CONSIDERS THIS ONE OF THE GREATEST INJUSTICES THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN.
The Tao of Anonymous
Hello Anonymous, pull up a chair, this may take a bit of time. If you have recently come to this place from Out There on the internets, I suggest you pay close attention to what I have to say. This is not a secrets of 4chon post, if you seek to >greentext or penis vagina buttsex, then this is not for you, it will inevitably end in tl;dr.
Much of what I have to say will sound contradictory, but bear with me.
First, when you wish to cry havoc and let slip the dogs OF FUCKING FURY here, do not encumber yourself with your accomplishments, your titles, your education, or your experiences. They mean nothing to me. Everything you have done, I have done better, faster, smarter, and with my dick in your mom's mouth. These things are ego, ego is identity, identity is loss of anonymity. The internets are a cold and lonely place outside The Legion.
There are no newfags, only those who must MURK LOAR. There are no oldfags, only those who have lurked enough to know they must lurk moar.
Everything is copypasta, even this post. Trying to square this concept with empirical truth will only result in failure, and demonstrates that you have not achieved ultimate 4chonirvana. Lurk moar and eat this pasta, for it is delicious.
When asked "Is Milhouse a meme?" there is only one correct answer. 'Yes' is incorrect. 'No' is also incorrect. The only correct answer is 'Milhouse is not a meme', however, knowing the door is not the same as walking through it. When you understand why this answer is not the same as 'No', then you are one step closer to enlightenment.
Everyone is a troll. Even you.
You cannot troll /b/. Win/Mac/Lunix, cut/uncut, christfag/atheifag arguements are boring; you are not trolling, you are being trolled by those you sought to troll.
When one does successfully troll /b/, he is no longer a troll, for he has become something greater.
There are no femanons, as there are no wimmens on the internets. Gender is a vague form of identity. Any tits you see on 4chan are a) a trap, b) an ex-girlfriend of the poster, or c) copied off the intertubes because no one on 4chan has ever had a girlfriend.
Everyone on 4chan has a girlfriend. We have had every girlfriend, even yours, and when she got boring we had your mom, too.
Rules 1 and 2 are not there to protect us from your idiot friends, we will dispose of them as we see fit. Rules 1 and 2 are there to protect you from yourself.
'Anonymous' is not a nickname, nor a password. Anonymous is a state of being. When you seek to rise above your fellows, you are no longer Anonymous, and have failed. The greatest and most epic wins are done in the name of Anonymous, and you can never take credit for them. If you doubt this, well, perhaps we haven't met before...I am Spartacus.
Lastly, and most important: There are only two people that post on 4chan. Me and you.
And I don't exist.