Vagrancy

I walk through the white corridors of the shopping mall, feeling all alone as I push my way through the hordes of mindless consumer zombies. Fourteen year old girls dressed like adult porn-stars, I sigh, but my eyes linger. Gross.
I continue walking, their faces fade and I glide past the stains of human-kind. I catch a glimpse of someone. That guy again. I see his fat face and neck beard and he stares, smiling creepily at me as he walks past, every time I see this guy he says hi. I have no idea who the fuck he is. Maybe I went to College with him?
Memories flood back of college, every morning I would awake to the fart alarm, right on time, 7:30 every morning my roommate would fart. She was so thin, so small, I could never believe how she could produce such noises.
I awaken from my flash back and find myself still moving. The neck beard out of sight. I continue my way through the labyrinth of shops. Am I searching for something? Or am I just hoping something will find me.
I see an adult man drift by. Perhaps he is me in the future. Perhaps I never leave this place, perhaps time is distorted and everyone is just an alternate version of me?
I buy a coffee and take a seat.
I take a sip. And then another. God I’m good.
I’m the King. I’m the best.
I finish my coffee. What had I been thinking? My own thought process forgotten to me. I frown, and glance over at the nearby table. A young fat girl stares at me while she eats her chips. I have to move. Her piercing gaze upon me feels like an actual force, pressing against me. I stand up and turn to go the opposite way. I see a beautiful girl standing before me, she smiles. I turn and hurry in a completely different direction.
I have.. uh… well, a problem. I make my own life miserable.
I always fall in love with girls who don’t even know I’m alive. Girls I have no hope with. And it makes my life hell.
I pine over them. Think about them night and day. My mouth feels dry and my stomach queezy when near them. But they’ll never know. I’ll never tell them.
I soon wander into a DVD store. I look at mindless cliche and mind-numbingly dumb entertainment marketed to the grazing masses, the sheep in human clothes.
I find myself staring at a movie. Volcano with Tommy Lee Jones. I’ve never seen it, but I stare at the DVD. I love the word Volcano. It is easily the best word in the entire English language.
Because the first thing that happens when you hear it is you picture a Volcano. A big black mountain lava pouring out the top, black smoke rising from it. Instant visualization. It’s a word that actually is an object. See-able, hear-able, touch-able, smell-able. Secondly it’s not pretentious. It’s not some big long fancy word pretending to be sophisticated. It is what it is. Finally the structure of the word. Volcano, I mean, there’s nothing else that sounds or looks like it.
You’re not going to get it confused and say another word that sounds similar, you’re not going to forget what it’s called, and you’re not going to use any other name to say what it is. It is simply ‘Volcano’ and I think it’s brilliant.
I wander around the store and some girls my age walk by.
I smile to myself. Could destiny be calling? I glance over and see them looking at awful films and even worse shows. I hear them talk about them as if they’re masterpieces. I shed a tear and leave the store continuing my vagrancy around the mall.
Not knowing how long it will take, I hum a tune to myself and slip into the realm of my imagination.

Erotic Vampire Fan-Fiction

There was a shuffling sound, her eyes opened and she looked around the dark room. She couldn’t see him, but there was a coolness in the air, she could sense him staring at her. She reached over and tapped her lamp flooding the room with light and sure enough, there he was, in the corner, head bent, eyes staring intensely at her. If she hadn’t known he was a Vampire it would have been a shocking sight to see a young man standing in the corner of your room in the middle of the night, hunched over, fangs exposed, almost looking like someone with down syndrome.
“You came.” She said, feigning surprise.
“Not yet.” He replied, smirking.
The light of the lamp sparkled in his eyes and made his skin sparkle, as if it was covered in glitter. If she hadn’t known what he was she would have thought he was a gay stripper with down syndrome.
Silently he walked towards her, mysteriously, as if gliding. He brushed her long brown hair out of her eyes.
“You are so sexy.” He said with a lisp.
She tried hard not to laugh, Vampires were known for their fury.
“So are you.”
It wasn’t a lie. Not truly. Probably because he was a Vampire his magical blood oozed with sex appeal, he probably released pheromones, like a bug… that thought repulsed her… and although he was decently ugly, and, well, kind of downy, she couldn’t help but crave to ride him, wildly, like a mechanical bull in a pub, screaming and waving her arms around.
He bent over and sniffed at her neck. It kind of tickled, but he smelt strange, like frozen semen or maybe horse radish.
“You’re making me so wet.” She said.
His fangs extended lightly pressing against her neck, the pressure hurt, but it was a good pain. The sharp tips lightly broke the skin and the Vampire ravishingly licked at the blood. It wasn’t sexy. It was like a Dog licking sloppishly.
She pushed him off and down onto the bed. She’s had enough of that. The Vampire was like any teen boy. Horny. But he had been saving himself for 400 years. She couldn’t imagine the sexual frustration, but he imagined her to be a virgin, that was what she had told him. But the truth was, she was a huge slut. She had once had the entire football team in a 24 hour period, while on her period.
She began unzipping his pants, he was now panting, like a dog.
She began kissing at the bottom of his belly, just above his crotch. Then the noises started. Whining noises, like a dog that begs you to keep scratching.
Finally she went lower, and stuck his frosty penis into her mouth.
It wasn’t like any penis she had tasted before. It wasn’t salty and warm it was cold and bland, like a home brand ice block.
She licked the tip as the Vampire roared like a Lion. Eventually fitting the entire thing into her mouth she lowered, until it went down her throat, lifting her head again, up and down she went, slowly, and building faster.
The Vampire’s body shook, like he was a giant vibrator.
Faster, faster she went. The room was filled with slopping and gagging noises.
Slowly a long thunderous sound built within the Vampire, releasing a cracking sound like lightning, and the cum erupted from the Vampire’s penis exploding out the back of the girls head.
Pieces of her brain and skull stuck to the roof, soaked with cum. The Vampire sat, wide eyed in shock as he looked at the tip of his penis still oozing cum over the back of the girls head, mixing with the blood. It only made him more hard.
Suddenly the young girls Ghost appeared looking down over her body and exploded head. A piece of brain and cum dripping from the ceiling falling right through her.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!” She screamed.
“Surprise?” He said and began to eat her brain out the back of her head as if it were watermelon.

Carpet Diem

He wandered back and forth across the room, focused, staring.
“Why?” he thought. “Why am I suddenly so attracted to the rug?”
It was more than an attraction. A sudden urge had overcome him. He wanted to have sex with the rug. It was more than bizarre, it was preposterous. But the thought had taken hold in his mind. His body craved to rough it up and down the rug.
But he couldn’t understand why, and so he paced, back and forth across the room. Fighting the urge to rip off his clothes and feel bliss against the rug.
“It’s just a rug!” He screamed in frustration.
He laid belly down across the carpet and stared at the rug. He could smell it.
His senses went wild. It was the smell of everything he loved. Wild berries, a cool breeze, morphing, becoming a warm breeze with the smell of sweet cherry pie. He could almost taste the sugar.
He stretched across and licked the rug.
It was like licking a strawberry.
He began munching into it. The sweet juices flowed and filled his mouth. The sheer awesome flavour filling him with insatiable sexual desires, he licked and licked and the sweet strawberry juices dampened his face.
Her eyes opened. Jewel had woken up. What a strange dream.
She looked over at her boyfriend asleep next to her. She felt numb.
She thought back over her dream, her thighs shook and she felt moist.
The dream had brought around a realisation. Something she had never even considered.
“I’m a Lesbian.” She said, and smiled for the first time in a long time.

Harsh Winds

The man leaned over.
He was fat, moustached and red faced.
His body wobbled and flobbed like the tides of the ocean.
His rolls jiggled and collided like continents.
Mountains of fat burst from orifices they hadn’t been before.
A loud sound built and grew throughout his body as he emitted a slight noise from his lips: ‘Eeeeeee’
Suddenly like the crack of lightning he released a thunderous fart, shock waves vibrating through his whole body, shattering his spine as he fell to the ground in a mass of fat and skin, melted down like a pancake, he covered the floor.
‘Eeeee’ he said.
Finally his last breath left him.
He had died.
A tragic spine shattering death that smelt strangely like honey.

MEANWHILE

In another part of the world, a butterfly flapped it’s wings, producing a small gust of wind that moved a small fleck of dust that moved a bigger fleck that started a chain reaction causing harsh winds 300 kilometres away, causing a airport to have delays, delaying the plane that would arrive at another part of the world causing a man to break his wait and sit down at a restaurant and eat dangerously hot chilli that would release his bowels that would release his wind, that would break his spine.

If you believe in such things.

DTF – Down to Fuck, but Doomed to Fail

I think everybody knows what it’s like to be sexually repressed. I mean, I’m not ugly, but I can’t seem to catch a break. Maybe it’s my cynical view of reality, maybe it’s my lack of job or car, maybe I’m just a bad fisherman, and even though the ocean is swimming with fish I can’t catch one.
And I’m not Japanese, so there is no way I intend to catch myself a whale…
And so, I am left with the internet. With goddess’ like Sasha Grey, Destiny Porter, Danielle FTV, Eva Berger, Nina Hartley, and an assortment of others to fantasise over.
4 times a day fulfilling the lust that burns inside me. But rather than whacking off over them, I longed to whack off onto them… into them…
But no. Instead a sock caught the glory I spilled. My cum sock, my soup catcher, after the five knuckle shuffle.
Of course, I’m not here to bitch and moan, I’m here to tell a story.
So my story starts 2 years ago. My girlfriend left me, for a guy, not better looking, not more intelligent, but richer, with a job, with a car, and with muscles that make him look like he’s covered in tumours. And that’s when my luck went downhill, when I couldn’t catch a break, when my cum sock started.
But alas, after 2 years that sock had become festy, rank, a crusty sock, stained yellow and smelt of rotting fish…
I probably should have washed it…. quite a few times, or just got rid of it for another sock. But my esteem was dead, and so were my cares…
Until one day, I managed to get a date. With a stunning gorgeous, angel of a girl. I rushed around, preparing for our date, I showered, I shaved, I plucked my eyebrow, I shampooed my hair, I masturbated fresh into the sock, to relieve anxiety on the date… I got dressed into good clothes… Now I needed socks..
All my socks were at the wash… NO.
I had no socks to wear… I suppose I could have just worn shoes, but the pants I wore showed off my shoes, I didn’t want her to think I was weird…
But I did have one pair of socks left…
No..
I couldn’t wear them…
Crusty yellow socks, smelling of rotting flesh…
I pulled them out of the draw…
OH GOD the smell! It reeked like death… DEODORANT.
That’s what I needed. So I sprayed… for 20 minutes I sprayed, until the can was near empty.
But the fresh splooge… I pulled them apart to the sound of ripping and tearing, like Velcro. They were stiff and as I tried to put my feet slowly in under the fear they would just snap… I could feel the sticky cum on my feet and tried my hardest not to vomit. Finally I had them on.. You could see yellow splotches and stains.
Oh god this is awful, I thought, it’s the worst luck in the world.. I should’ve just went bare footed. I could still smell them.
DING DONG!
The door bell. Fuck, she was here!
The entire date she had a bad look on her face, the kind of look you have when you smell shit.
I tried my hardest to be charming, but I felt like my feet were crawling. Like the billions upon billions of potential children were crawling along my feet.
When I had got home, and our date had finished, needless to say I wanted to cry. While pulling the socks of (which seemed to have attached to my flesh) they snapped into pieces.
I did not receive a call back from her… and am once again left to the glory of the screen goddesses.
But I’ve learned my lesson. I no longer jizz into a sock. Tissues will work fine…
And I am still hopeful.
One day, this fisherman will catch a fish.
One that doesn’t smell like the dead rotting corpse of a fish.
I’ll catch the beauty of the sea. A Mermaid. My own.
Until then, just know, ladies. I am DTF.

Sundae Thoughts

In California at 6:42 AM, a big fat man- and when I say fat, I mean really fat, like he makes obese people look anorexic because he’s so fucking fat- sits in McDonalds gobbling up 9 Big Macs, 7 large fries, 2 triple cheese burgers, 4 bacon cheese burgers, 6 McChicken burgers, 14 large Red Fanta’s, 3 caramel latte’s with 4 sugars, 19 chocolate muffins, and last but not least, 27 chocolate Sundaes. It is a Saturday. As the man devours his feast, (feast for you maybe, but for him, merely an appetiser). He gobbles his food vigorously, oblivious to the world around him. But curious, the brain inside in fat head is functioning, and he is using it. This is what he thought:
“It’s Saturday today, omnomnom, and I’m eating a Sundae, omnomnom, it’s so god damn delicious, omnomnom, I wonder, if it’s Saturday here, omnomnom, and I’m eating a Sundae, omnomnom, could it be SUNDAY elsewhere? Omnomnom.”
Of course, the man across the table on his way to work, who dropped in to enjoy a nice cup of coffee, watched in a horrified trance as this planet devoured all that food.
“My god” he thought “What a fat fuck.”
He then proceeded to drink his coffee and escape as soon as possible; on his way to work his was hit by a bus and killed. But that is another story.
The Hippo inside McDonalds was nearing the finish of his meal. Releasing a glorious fart and scratching his rectum he then proceeded to waddle (or roll) his way out of the restaurant. Of course as stupidly obese as he was he did have a brain, and he liked to use it. This is what he thought as he waddled:
“I wonder…. How many sea shells DOES she sell on the sea shore?”
He then proceeded to a fish and chip shop to eat 20 crumbed fish and some crab cakes. The owner could only watch in horror, hypnotised by the wobbling of his fat flaps, later recalling to people how it had it’s own rhythm, kind of like the ocean.
The fat man, who curiously enough had not yet been named (we shall henceforth call him Tim), continued his treacherous walk to the beach, upon where a lonely Japanese man (curiously named Ahab) mistook him for the evil white whale (Moby Dick) and struck him down with a harpoon.
Tim, who in the shock of having a harpoon go flying through his stomach, then proceeded to realise all the McDonalds he had eaten out of his rear, spraying out like a blowhole all over Ahab, who later recalled that the incident was ‘horrifyingly euphoric’ of course, we can only imagine.
Later after some surgery Tim returned home where he watched 9 hours of Leno, before going to sleep.

Bliss

It is night outside, the light shines in from the street lamp across the road. The moon is full, and if all were quiet you could swear it was humming… But all is not quiet. They’re at my window, eating the bars. Ugly little bastards aren’t they? That awful gut-wrenching stench of dried blood and that haunting cry, like cats getting raped. I think I might have a milkshake.

Two minutes later, sipping at my chocolate milkshake I ponder on how I got myself into this ridiculously absurd situation. Soon the conclusion dawns on me, that this all occurred, because I was in dire need of a blow-job.

8:32am that morning I wake with an erection. After having a glorious tug I get out of bed and proceed to make a coffee. Caramel latte. Three sugars. Sipping my coffee I stare around at the cesspool that is my house. I should really clean it…. I frown and shake that depressing thought from my head, I guzzle the last of my coffee, pack my suitcase and leave for work.

9:23am- I sit impatiently in my car. I drum on the steering wheel to a Guns ‘N Roses tune. I twitch now and again with annoyance. I’m going to be late for work… I’m going to be late… late…. fuck. I beep at the traffic ahead and throw myself around the car like a sped with bees up his ass. I’m going to be late for work. FUCK.

10:30am- My face is red with rage. My heart is pounding, my teeth gritting. I’ve been coping it from my boss for the last twenty minutes. I can’t concentrate on anything but my anger and stress. I daydream of vicious Velociraptors tearing my co-workers to shreds, blood splattering the office floor as they scream, being torn limp from limp apart while alive, meanwhile I am in a toilet cubicle getting laid by the sexy receptionist.

11:59am- Bored with graphs and statistics I change screens on my computer and log onto MSN. No one is online. Suddenly ‘SxcRecipe’ signs in. It’s the receptionist from my fantasy, we’ve been flirting for days. Suddenly I feel myself go hard. Dreams and fantasies fill my mind again. So I open a convo, and begin to chat.

1:02pm- I’m sculling my sixth coffee. For the last hour I’ve been dreaming of raptors. Killing everyone. The screams of my co-workers makes me smile. I picture the big claw on their foot cutting through that sexy, slutty face of the receptionist. That god damn dumb bitch. I finish my coffee and throw the cup across the room at the wall. My colleagues stare at me and I flip them off. I go into the toilet cubicle and pray for raptors. I beg God, Satan, Steven Spielberg, anyone I can pray to. That receptionist I talked about? She’s black mailing me. FUCK. I should have never asked for a blow-job!

8:43- This is about where you came in. A still silent night besides the constant cries of these hideous beasts, screeching, hissing, snorting. They really are foul. I begin drinking my milkshake panicky. My hands get sweaty and I feel dizzy. How did it get to this? Truthfully I don’t know. I was at the supermarket, and then I watched, starring in disbelief as the check-out chicks turned into blood thirsty Velociraptors, ripping customers into bloody shreds before my eyes. Hell. I still don’t believe it. And now, they’re outside my house and soon they’ll be inside my house. Ripping me to shreds. Soon I’ll be dead.

I finish my milkshake. With a sigh, I sit down on the couch, and I wait.

All to Die

He begins carving his own face. Blood spills to the floor like water from an overflowing drain. The thick salty smell fills his nostrils as he hacks at his face like a butcher. Skin and blood fall like the fat chunks of meat they are.
The knife has reached his cheekbones and the man begins chiselling away at it. Chunking crushing sounds like sticking a shovel in sand.
He bashes at the bone as he screams, haunting long and painful screams. He cuts ferociously at it like knife against a dinner plate.
The screaming continues, long hard yelling amidst howling and crying.
The salty tears burn against the places where flesh once was. It stings so much that it is unbearable, yet the man continues, breaking through the bones and moving on to his own nose. He slices at it like a child would slice at cheese, there is nothing more then a deep dark bloody gap within a few seconds as the man’s screaming only radiates louder. He stops, and slowly moves over to the mirror for a look.
He inspects himself, raising an eyebrow and attempting a smile into the mirror.
He quickly dashes away and begins searching within the dark oak drawer next to the bed.
He is in a small dark room with little bits of dust floating around. He is rushing, and attempting to gain a hold of his new body, he is unsure of how to breath yet, he knows air fills his lungs but the feeling is strange without a nose.
He pulls out a small black object from the drawer. Holding it in front of him it begins flashing. It is a camera.
After a few minutes of photos the man picks the knife back up, and continues his carving.
He begins with simple symbols in his chest, but he does not know how long until that wont be enough… until he needs more destruction, more pain.
His teeth grit as he feels the insane hate and rage build within him, the urge rises again.
He screams with ravenous anger and begins punching himself in the face. Pulling and tugging at his teeth. He wants them out, they have to go.
He continues punching as blood and spit fly across the room. He runs back and forth across the room, beating himself, along the way bits of his face squishing in between his toes and sticking to his feet.
This annoys him. He begins stabbing at the chunks of his face now layering the floor.
He wants them to die. All to die.
He will burn them. Again in the oak draw he pulls out a bottle of Metho and some matches. He opens the lid and dances across the room, spraying the Metho everywhere, it sprays over his own body. It burns. He licks the place where his lips once were and grabs a box of matches. He begins to light before noticing a cheese grinder in the corner of his eye. He stops.
Before he goes he must use it at least once. He grabs a hold of it and pretends it is a bar of soap, as it slices skin from under his arms and his legs, ripping skin from all over his body. Satisfied, he proceeds to light a match. He holds it, staring deep into the flame.
He drops it.
Screams fill the night.

Chaotic Reasoning

The harsh smoke of my $8000 Cuban cigar flows into my lungs. A fat bearded hobo walks the street picking up papers with his sharp stick, he places the rubbish into his beard, along the way singing “Oh, I pick my rubbish up, and I stick it in my beard oh what fun it is to pick up rubbish at this time of year!”
I hear an accent within the song. Possibly French.
“Another coffee sir?” Asks the hunchback waiter.
“Yes, yes.” I say, irritated. I can’t stand strange people, especially not Quasimodo here, nor the singing hobo who is now entering the coffee shop.
I take a long drawl of my cigar and allow the harsh smoke to soothe my lungs. I raise my newspaper in hope that the hobo won’t come begging to me.
I hear a rattling sound quite like coins being chucked around. I take a peek and see the hobo at the other side of my desk. Ugh, I proceed to ignore him and read the paper. Oooh, leather walking sticks are on sale! The rattling continues, I stick my hand out and shoo this filth ridden Santa away. Eventually he leaves, to my relief. I lower my paper and take another long drawl of my fair priced cigar. I see Quasimodo returning. I can’t smoke around him, his posture is creepy and weird. I want to go home and adore my fair priced furniture. My rug? $60, 000. A bargain! I search for my wallet to pay the hunchback of Nostre Dame so I can leave. It’s not in that pocket… nor in this one… Panic rises within me and I start to rigorously search through my coat. IT’S GONE!
Quasimodo arrives at my table and I send him off to fetch me another cup of coffee. I begin to inhale and exhale with my cigar furiously. As Disney’s favourite freak returns with my coffee an old shrivelled woman enter the store along with the hobo who beckons her for money. She struggles on opening her purse taking her, what seems to me, an eternity. She pulls out a huge roll of money, giving one note to the pitiful poor man’s Santa. He stabs it up with his sharp stick and leaves the store. Senior Right Angle returns, I send him to fetch me another coffee… How long will I be here for?!
The little lady hops up and goes to the toilet, as she walks I can’t help but think of the slug woman from Monsters Inc… She has left her purse! Here’s my chance, I reach over and grab it as I begin to open it a police car arrives in front of the shop.
“Shit!” I exclaim, perhaps too loudly and throw it down into the chair where it once was.
The officer begins a discussion with Walt Disney’s nightmare now would be my chance, I reach over and pull open the purse, the first thing to come out is an ugly looking mask, the face of someone you really wish didn’t exist. I look over at the officer and Quasi I notice they have pasted a wanted poster onto the wall.
I stare at the poster, and double take back at the mask. Oh dear.
Quasi looks over and see me holding the mask, who’s face is on the wanted poster.
A single tear rolls down my face as I start to tap the ashes of my cigar into one of the many hundreds of coffee mugs.
Him and the officer both begin walking to me. My heart rate rises a thousand beats a second, the hobo re-enters the store, they are throwing accusations at me, I begin to cry like a little girl, the old woman comes back from the bathroom, she takes the mask…
Paper is flying everywhere. Had an explosion occurred? I am slightly out of it. I see the woman exist the shop and enter a bus.
Quasi hands me down a bill, and I cry like a child on their first day of school.
I look up, and the hobo has placed the note on my desk. He then leaves and continues to pick up papers in the street. Quasi takes the money and the bill is paid…
I… I’m speechless. I smile and a sense of relief washes over me.

Essence

The essence of cum fills my nose as I scream.
I cannot stop him. This man is stronger than me…
He holds me down, and forcibly shoves his penis down my throat. I scream, it’s disgusting, I want to die. Soon soft, bitter splooge fills my mouth as I try to spit only for him to hold my mouth shut forcing me to swallow his disgusting fluids.
Soon he turns me over, taking off my pants and grabbing a tight hold of my testicles, I am forced to let him enter my rectum for fear of my balls becoming mash. In and out he goes, fast and furious. It hurts and I scream in agony, and yet I have an erection. I know I am not enjoying it and that it is a natural reaction but I can’t help but feel disgusted in myself as I grab my penis tightly pushing it down.
“Oh, liking it are you?!” The man screams in my ear.
Slowly pulling his wet, sloppy, cum covered penis out of my ass, he turns me on my back and begins sucking me off. I don’t want this, it’s gross, wrong and humiliating. But yet he is good, and I can’t hold back my moaning and eventual release of semen. He smiles widely, cum dripping out of his mouth as he starts kissing me. I am so sick, as I taste my own cum the man gets dressed and leaves as I lay, naked on the floor crying. With a quick impulse due to my disgust I pull out a knife and attempt to cut off my own penis… but I can’t do it… I enjoyed it… I know I did. It was wrong, and that’s what made it good. As I stare at my half erect penis I begin to remember the taste of my own sperm… it was… interesting… I slowly bend down and begin to lick the semen off the tip of my penis… still curious, I manage to fit the whole thing in my mouth and begin sucking myself off…. oh this is good. Slowly I move two fingers to my anus and begin moving them in and out… they go in easy due to the wet sperm in my anus acting as lubrication… eventually I splooge all through my mouth and swallow. As I lay on the ground in a mass naked splooge covered heap, I laugh. And slowly, but calmly. I slit my wrists and watch as the blood flows out my body…

Today has been a ‘very’ interesting day….