The Greastest Idea in the History of Ideas Edition
|
Posted:Aug 3, 2012 6:25 am
Last Updated:Aug 4, 2012 9:29 am
14475 Views
|
What the Hell has been going on in here! The Beast loses controlling interest in this gushy brain I reside in for a few days, and everything in The Burrow goes south faster than a $10.00 crack , 3 days off its last fix.
Much like The Incredible Hulk occasionally loses ground to his weaker alter ego, Bruce Banner, The Beast also faces a similar conundrum in his never-ending struggle for dominance of this grey matter. I’m back in the driver’s seat now, and I’ll be expecting all of you minions whipped back into shape A.S.A.P.! I had you operating like a well-oiled horde, and that’s exactly how I expect it to be again.
While he was gone, The Beast had nothing more to do than think of a multi-faceted plan that will accomplish no less than 4 major goals. There are probably some lesser goals that it will accomplish along the way, but The Beast concerns himself with the big picture. The details can be handled at the minion level.
My latest, and possibly greatest, plan will facilitate the following:
1) It will make I, as well as any investors, wealthy through membership fees.
2) It will make I, as well as any investors, even wealthier through transportation fees.
3) It will reduce U.S. oil consumption by 17% in the short term, rising to an achievable 34% reduction once the concept has been embraced by even the dumbest American.
4) It will reduce the number of U.S. obesity cases by 28% in the short term, rising to an impressive 65% within 3 years of launch.
5) I know I said 4…..never question The Beast! (Can’t leave this place alone for a minute without trouble!) 5) It will greatly decrease our need to occupy middle-eastern lands, destabilizing their governments, dividing their resources with allies, and providing weaponry to their enemies, which will actually help to eliminate their causes of hating us. If you still think they hate us because “of our freedoms”, whatever that means, you’re too stupid to invest in my plan. Leave now and open a hot stand.
NOTE: All percentages were pulled directly from KarlBloggerfeld ‘s ass, which is probably more accurate than some estimates written by highly paid experts. (Weapons of Mass Destruction ring a bell?)
By now you’re all anxiously waiting to hear what this massively brilliant idea is. Well, here it comes.
Rickshaw Rage!!!!!!!!
I know it sounds like a corny marketing ploy at first glance. That’s alright though, because it is. To get any large group of people behind an idea these days, you have to wrap it in sparkling underpants, and paint its face like a clown, and give it an over-the-top name.
The plan is so simple, and elegant, it’s surprising it took me to think of it. All we have to do is open a chain of gyms, while popularizing the idea, of running while pulling a rickshaw for health. Members would pay dues like with any other gym. Their dues would give them access to a large fleet of rickshaws, both of the pull-behind-while-running, and the pull-behind-while-cycling variety.
Most people like to exercise before or after work, which would perfectly align the Rickshaw Rage workout time with the everyday commuter’s time to go or come home from work. Gym members would pick a route of an appropriate length for how long they desired to run, and that commuters in the area had noted as their commute route to their jobs.
A small transportation fee would be charged to riders. It would be a flat rate based on their destination. It would be vastly less expensive than taking a TAXI the same distance. TAXI drivers would be forced to seek out longer fares, which they prefer anyway. Nothing pisses off a TAXI driver more than a two block fare.
An added benefit of the program might be that total strangers would talk to each other, possibly even becoming friends. While some people will talk to a TAXI driver, many others frown upon it as talking to “The Help”. It would probably feel less awkward speaking with somebody that was just out for their morning exercise. This would also facilitate spreading the word about the rickshaw lifestyle. (Lifestyle is an important aspect to push, minions. Everybody thinks they’re cooler if they belong to a “lifestyle”; just take a look at the leather wearing BDSM crowd. (Psssssst….. get over, yourselves. Just because you like getting tied up and burned with cigarettes doesn’t mean you have a special lifestyle any more than I have a lifestyle because I enjoy wiping my ass with wet wipes instead of toilet paper.)
We will definitely need a lengthy and exciting infomercial to launch this program onto the public consciousness. Any, minions who would care to take part in that be sure to fill out the proper forms with The Minion in Charge of Forms and Procedures. We’ll also need a celebrity spokesperson to give it that Hollywood Accepted vibe that will make everybody else want to do it. If any of you minions happen to be third cousins with a B Lister from the 1980’s, who will themselves cheaply to get their face back in the public eye, please let The Beast know so we can contact their people and work a deal.
The exercise program, “Insanity ™”, offers a free T-shirt to anybody who completes the initial phase of the program, and you can see people in the infomercial proudly exclaiming, “I earned it!” Rickshaw Rage will also offer a T-shirt that will be yours to keep after you have logged your first 100 miles pulling or peddling your rickshaw for health.
This idea will be much easier to push forward once KarlBloggerfeld and I win the Co-Vice Presidency. I’m actually thinking of making one of our campaign issues as long as Karl is good with it. I think passing a law requiring anybody living within 5 miles of their place of employment to use some form of gasoline-free transportation would solve many problems.
Before the Navy yanked me out of my last position, I practiced what I preached and rode my bicycle to work. It was fun, helped me cut weight, and saved me a good deal of money.
I just had an additional idea. While each franchise would have a small office where people could become members, the actual rickshaws could be maintained on properties located within various subdivisions, allowing people to need only walk a short distance to rent a rickshaw and begin their commute.
This logo will improve with some refinement. I simply wanted to doodle out the first thing that came to mind.
Join the Rickshaw Rage Revolution!
BEAST OUT
|
|
|
11
Comments
|
|
Excellent VS Enjoyable Edition
|
Posted:Jul 30, 2012 5:25 pm
Last Updated:Aug 3, 2012 9:44 am
14993 Views
|
The first order of business I need to clear up today, is all of your personal thoughts on how I should proceed around here.
I tried to drop The Beast persona while writing the last few posts. I'm thinking maybe it just isn't the same. The Beast, while being a bit obnoxious at times, seems to help the ideas flow a bit more freely.
So I ask you, my readers, whether I should keep plugging along as plain old James, or revert back to my Beastly ways, and refer to you all as minions once again?
On to today's topic.
Excellence does not equal Enjoyable, and Enjoyable often falls far short of Excellence.
This applies to a wide variety of subjects, and activities.
Music is one example. You can take a band that's extremely popular (Enjoyable), and quite easily break down their individual components to show that they are not Excellent.
The Beatles are a perfect example. They never did anything for me, but clearly are to this day a major influence on many other people. (I think some of it is almost religious in nature. The Beatles were amazing because everybody else says they were, and so I do too.)
Broken down into individual components, they were neither gifted musicians with their chosen instruments, and I doubt their vocals would have made it beyond round two of American Idol any given year.
Once all of those components, however lacking in Excellence were thrown together, they achieved a great deal of Enjoyable for a large number of people, past and present.
I often experience the Excellent Versus Enjoyable phenomena while playing video games. To this day, I still get a great deal of Enjoyment while playing a 25 year old game, Shinobi. By today's standards, the graphics are far from Excellent, but there are games with far superior graphics which unfortunately lack the Enjoyment factor.
In keeping with the requirements of being one of The Hottest Sex Blogs you can Get Down With...
There are both men, as well as women, who have what would be considered an Excellent body. I think men tend to believe this equates to Excellent sex more than women do, but maybe it's more equal than that.
The reality though, is that there are plenty of people on both sides of the gender fence, I imagine, who while possessing amazing bodies, are completely without talent once they get into bed.
On the other side of the sex coin, there are both men, as well as women, who while lacking what is considered a striking physical appearance, will probably perform feats of sexual prowess that will leave any of their partners quivering in a puddle of sweat, tears, drool, and other bodily fluids, completely satisfied with all aspects of the encounter.
In all things, Excellent does not always equal Enjoyable, and the other way around.
BEAST OUT
|
|
|
12
Comments
|
|
Toynbee Tiles Edition
|
Posted:Jul 28, 2012 6:02 pm
Last Updated:Jul 30, 2012 5:28 pm
12978 Views
|
TOYNBEE IDEA
IN Kubrick's '2001
RESURRECT DEAD
ON PLANET JUPITER
PLEASE MAKE + GLUE
TiLES AS THE AMERIC-
AN MEDIA IS WORKING
WITH THE SOVIET UN
iON AND iTS THOUSANDS
OF FRONTS IN U.S.A. To tu
This is the repeated message found on over 100 known tiles which have been embedded directly into the pavement at various crosswalks in some large, U.S. Cities, as well as a few other locales.
I'm watching a documentary about the Toynbee Tiles at the moment. This is one of those strange little phenomena that grabs my attention.
The tiles have been appearing since the 1980's. Philadelphia, New York, and other U.S. Cities have them. One is embedded in the pavement just outside the Holland Tunnel.
They've also appeared in Chile, Argentina, and Brazil.
To this day, nobody knows who has placed them, what their meaning is, or why they've been embedded in the pavement.
That's the real mystery of them. They aren't simply spray painted signs, but solid tiles which were sunk into soft asphalt or cement before it completely hardened. This is what I'm gathering from the film at least.
The first four lines are the basic message. There are variations of different side texts that go along with the main body.
UNDER F.O.I.A., N.B.C. JOURNA
LISTS FUNNELED F.B.I. INFOR
MATION ON ME TO SOVIET UN-
ION
NOW THE CULT OF THE
HELLION ARE NOW SeARC-
HiNG FOR MORE THAN
ONE HELL (IDEOLOGIES)
TO GET MORE REWARD.
AND IF THIS IDEA SURVIVES
AFTER ALL, MAKE THOSE
HELLIONS PAY FOR WHAT
THEY'VE DONE. I'M BEGGING
YOU.
MURDER EVERY JOURNALIST.
I BEG YOU.
That's just some weird stuff. I highly doubt all of the tiles, in all of the widely varied locations, are the work of a single person.
It's also hard to imagine that one person could have talked several friends into producing similar tiles, and waiting for the perfect opportunity to set them in place where some fresh pavement was just poured.
These started popping up before the interNET became as big a deal as it is now, where we can all share ideas at the click of a button.
How did whoever started in Philadelphia (if that was the first location.) Get word to his accomplices in Argentina and Chile of all places?
This phenomena has been going on for 3 decades, after all.
I'll bet that every location where one of these tiles has been placed has also been devoid of any cameras that could have possibly caught the tile setter in action.
So anyway.... If you dig weird stuff like Bigfoot, aliens, and ghost stories, maybe you would like to watch this documentary as well.
It's called Resurrect Dead, Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles, and it's currently on NetFlix. There's even a Wikipedia page on the phenomena.
Everybody take care.
|
|
|
4
Comments
|
|
He's a Douche Edition
|
Posted:Jul 28, 2012 1:22 pm
Last Updated:Jul 30, 2012 10:45 pm
12715 Views
|
I thought I would waste a few moments of my life today by writing something completely fantasy based, without merit, and definitely of a juvenile nature.
... I have a few minutes to spare after all, and nothing important going on in my life.
_______________________________________
There's a man who is most dominant,
Whose aura and air is less flatulent,
Than the rest of us losers could hope for.
He seeks out women reality based,
To engage in sexual escapades,
Lacking in fantasy since he's a bore.
While the man is certainly striking,
Besting even me as a descended viking,
Something about him smells strongly of douche.
I'm sure it's me who must be mistaken,
For his odor must surely awaken,
Primal lust in women with couth.
Perhaps it is I who should recognize,
What most women probably prize,
When faced with such a dominant man.
I should definitely take heed,
Observe a masterful steed,
And strive to mimic him as best I can.
What seems to be holding me back,
Is what I consider a lack,
Of douche free air for me to breathe.
Perhaps if I hold my nose,
I'll be better prepared and on my toes,
And his wisdom I can finally receive.
I should be as happy as a clam,
To learn even a portion which this man,
Could teach us all in matters of sex.
If it weren't for the smell,
Of rancid douche pouring forth from Hell,
I would likely not be such a wreck.
Maybe I should simply pinch my nose,
More than worth it to learn his pose,
Since my head is clearly too straight.
If you approach a woman sideways,
Her loins will simply be set ablaze,
And she will no longer seek to masturbate.
I can't wait to practice what he's taught,
I'm confidant my time was not for naught,
His teachings are sure to produce.
All it took was my complete attention,
My total compliance to his invention,
And the ability to ignore tons of douche.
|
|
|
3
Comments
|
|
Allow Me to Ravel this Edition
|
Posted:Jul 25, 2012 5:24 am
Last Updated:Jul 26, 2012 9:35 pm
13826 Views
|
Today's offering will be highly randomized bits that are floating around in my head. They will primarily be of the "Fart Joke" variety, but with me being me, they will be intelligent fart jokes.
I'm just getting in from the hospital where I spent my second night undergoing my sleep study. I left my phone in my truck so that I wouldn't upset the technicians by accidentally forgetting to turn my alarm off once again. I badly wish I had brought it in anyway now. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain that the box of wires on my chest, and the nose mask on my face, would have made me look like the badass, bastard of Darth Vader and Bane.
The technician showed me my brain activity in the form of squigley lines, and swears I was asleep within 30 seconds, and slept soundly all night.
I'm certain I was semi-awake most of the night due to my right shoulder aching from sleeping flat on my back. I tried putting my right hand behind my head several times, and wound up loosening the mask and having an air leak which I was sure would bring him in to adjust the equipment. Apparently all of that registered as good, sound sleep.
Men, during the initial phase of a relationship, exert considerable amounts of effort, and experience ample discomfort, hiding from their new partner the fact that do indeed fart.
Women, during the initial phase of a relationship, exert an equal amount of effort, with more than likely accompanying mental anguish, disguising the fact that they are batshit crazy.
Women like to claim that they can endure more pain than a man can possibly imagine during childbirth. I respectfully disagree. Men, too, experience pain quite often on a scale which I can only assume borders on levels achieved during labor. We have gas.
I have personally had gas that was so painful, it dropped me to my knees in my tracks, and caused me to completely stop breathing. When the need to collapse into a ball, squeeze your eyes shut, and grimace outweighs the body's requirement for oxygen, I would say that's a considerable amount of pain.
I also had to pull onto the shoulder of a highway once to wait it out for fear of driving headlong into an oncoming 18 wheeler.
I can only describe the pain as what I believe it would feel like to have a midget shove his knife-clutching hand up my ass, continue pressing upward until he reached my small intestine, and then slowly corkscrew the knife around to see what he could scrape loose.
I thought of another word last night which I've never heard a person use, and which I'm wondering whether can be used as a stand-alone word in the first place. I believe my last offering was "vincible". You hear of something being invincible often, but never that something is vincible.
The one I thought of prior to my sleep study last night, was raveled. People will often say that something has become unraveled. If something can become unraveled, logic tells me that it can be raveled in the first place. I've never actually heard it though.
Nobody has ever asked me, "Could you please ravel these together for me?"
I'm going to have to look into the word origins behind unraveled today once I fully wake up.
OK. I told you it would be random today.
Everyone enjoy your day.
|
|
|
14
Comments
|
|
Doors Edition
|
Posted:Jul 23, 2012 9:13 pm
Last Updated:Jul 28, 2012 11:59 am
11095 Views
|
-Decorating with James-
For those of you who don't know me beyond what you've read here on my blog, you probably don't know that I'm always working on a little project to keep myself busy. I like to think of interesting things to make or build, either for myself, or to give as gifts. I guess anybody who followed along as I made my Captain America costume has some idea of my hobby.
I think I've just stumbled upon an idea that is long overdue.
I have a bit of an obsessive compulsive nature. One way in which that fact manifests itself, is in my desire to collect things. I've spent too much money in my life because I acquired one thing, only to find out later it was just one piece of a 10 piece set. (I chose that number at random).
Once you've collected a set of something, you're then faced with the desire to display the items, so that you and anybody who visits you can see, and be impressed by, your complete set of 1993 NASCAR Collector's Plates. (That's definitely not something I would collect... but it sounded funny.)
I'm always trying to think of ways to display my various collections of things, and I like to do it in a neat and orderly fashion. That's the obsessive portion of the condition... neatness.
I once spent several years collecting mint tins. Once upon a time, Altoids was really the only game in town, along with a few other occasional mints which come in a decorative tin. Having an eye for such things, I noticed right away when suddenly everybody and their brother suddenly wanted in on the mint action, and tins began springing up everywhere. I stopped somewhere around 125 distictly different tins.
I kept those tins in a big box for a couple more years until I finally figured out what to do with them. I cut a piece a 1/4 inch sandply to match the shape of my 's dresser top, stained it to match the color, affixed as many of the tins to it as I could, and then set the glass top over it to turn his dresser into a colorful conversation piece. I'll try to attach a picture below. Actually.... you'll have to check back later in the day to see that picture. I won't be able to get into his room until I take him to his mother's house around 6:00 p.m. today.
I've now realized that everybody with a home has several unused areas in which they could cleverly display small items. Doors! There's usually one in every room, and they aren't normally doing much other than keeping people from seeing us in our underpanties.
Why not turn them into a decorative, and space-saving display case for small collectibles?
All you would need to do is cut an appropriately sized hole in the center of the door, arrange your collection of seashells, thimbles, ceramic monkeys, or key chains on some easily built shelves, and then replace the wooden side walls you removed with plexiglass.
Once you install the plexiglass, you could finish the project off by framing it in with some attractive trim which compliments the color of your room's walls.
I obviously can't work on this particular project while I'm renting. You can bet that if I'm able to buy a home in a year or so as I hope, this will definitely be one of my creative outlets that I will embark upon.
Maybe some of you will like the idea, and make your man, or woman, break out his/her tools, and build a creative door of your own.
P.S. - seeing as how these are supposed to be the sexually hottest blogs your money can get you down with, I'll suggest that your bedroom door could be converted into a door within a door so that you can display your various sex toys, and still have access to them. It would require some hinges, and a little more in depth craftsmanship, but it would be so worth it.
Everybody be well, and try to enjoy the only life we get.
|
|
|
8
Comments
|
|
Hats. Weird, aren't they? Edition
|
Posted:Jul 22, 2012 9:01 pm
Last Updated:Jul 25, 2012 5:40 am
9871 Views
|
We, as a species, hold some very strange notions in our minds. We develop these notions over time, and they slowly become unwritten (and sometimes actually written) law.
The particular phenomena I'm dwelling on currently has to do with clothing items, hats specifically.
Hats make us do some weird things which, upon reflection, don't make any logical sense.
I've mentioned a few times the almost fanatical obsession the military has with head gear. When to wear it, and when not to wear it is something all members of the service need to learn quickly, or else have their asses chewed on a regular basis by other grown men and women who cry if the whole hat thing isn't handled properly.
It doesn't escape the civilian world however. Wearing a hat can get you into hot water during many occasions.
Various religious sects have different opinions on whether or not the head should be covered during religious ceremony.
Jewish men must cover their heads, while the women go uncovered, or it will offend their version of god. Other religions are the opposite. Women must wear some form of head gear, while the men must remain uncovered, or their version of god will be offended.
The dead can also apparently be offended by something worn upon the head in their presence. I personally don't think the dead give two shits whether you wear a hat during their funeral or not, but others disagree.
Why hats for all of these various institutions and groups?
What is it about an article of clothing worn, or not worn, upon your skull that gets people into such a fuss if it's done improperly, or at the wrong time in their eyes?
How do we know the dead are offended by hats, and not say... Underwear? Who told the first person that it was disrespectful to cover your head during a religious ceremony, and who told them that was the case?
I understand that each branch of the military has an official piece of head gear or two, but at what point did we start taking it so seriously, that one grown man will chase another across a parking lot to deliver an ass chewing because one of the men forgot their hat in their vehicle for two minutes?
Why is it considered disrespectful to leave your hat on your head during a rendition of the national anthem if you're in civilian clothing? Does it really make a difference, or establish your degree of patriotism?
Why not your belt? It's just as arbitrary. What if somebody "in charge" decided you should remove your belt for some specific event, or you would be showing disrespect to whatever was being done? Would that become the social norm after a few generations? Would it then be common belief that your belt must be removed anytime said event took place?
I firmly believe a great deal of the things we hold to be normal social behavior, all began in some highly arbitrary fashion. When you break any of them down, they don't have any internal logic behind them. We just do things a certain way because everybody else does them that way, and they've always been done that way.
... But they haven't. Somebody came up with the idea at some point, and everybody else just followed along because that somebody was "in charge".
Men still wear neckties even though that particular garment originated for a completely BS reason. Orators of old thought they needed to wear something around their throats in order to protect their voices, which were their meal tickets.
There was zero actual benefit to wrapping some cloth around your neck as far as protecting your voice went, but everybody followed along, and here we are, thousands of years later, still tying a useless strip of cloth around our throats.
I'm sure everybody is familiar with the Navy dress uniform for men, affectionately referred to as Cracker Jacks. Have you ever wondered what the point of the flap on the back is for? It was originally added as a means of keeping a sailor's long, greasy hair off the back of his uniform.
We haven't been allowed to have long, greasy hair for decades now, but we still have the stupid flap on the backs of both our dress whites, as well as dress blues. Something that originally served a purpose is kept around simply because it became the norm.
Going back to underwear. I'm fairly certain that both men and women can be arrested for "indecent exposure" if they decide to stroll around town in either their boxer briefs, or a nice bra and panties set. It's perfectly legal, however, to stroll around in even less clothing as long as it qualifies as swim wear.
I can walk anywhere I please in a Speedo, yet be arrested for doing the same thing in a pair of boxer shorts which actually cover a great deal more skin.
We, as a species, are sort of fucked in the head.
My name is James, I'm running for Co-Vice President with my running mate KarlBloggerfeld (Brad to those who know and love him), have a nice day.
|
|
|
13
Comments
|
|
Dragonfly Edition
|
Posted:Jul 13, 2012 12:52 pm
Last Updated:Jul 22, 2012 9:02 pm
9547 Views
|
The Beast interfered with nature this morning, but seeing as how I believe we're all a part of nature, it was completely authorized.
I went back to work today for the first time in 20 days due to OPS. That's Other People's Stupidity. Thanks to that, I had to be there today, before starting 39 days of leave. OPS will also cause me to have to return one more day, before beginning my final 40 days of leave, and then officially retiring.
Back to nature. As I approached our usual mustering area this morning, I noticed that the majority of people were gathered around, pointing at something near the bushes. I looked over and saw what I at first thought to be a humming bird, hovering in the air.
What I thought was nature's helicopter, turned out to be a large dragonfly, caught in a spider's web.
I strolled up, assessed the situation. I noted the group of 7 or 8 people were anxiously awaiting as the spider crept toward it's sizable feast. I decided to play omnipotent-entity-which-resides-in-an-alternate-dimension, and interfere.
I swept my hand through the web, freeing the dragonfly, and tumbling it, as well as the spider itself, onto the pavement at our feet.
The spider, having just came face-to-face with an all powerful being, froze in it's tracks, and stared in awe.
The dragonfly, still entwined within the sticky webbing of doom, lay there, cursing it's continued bad luck. I assume it was cursing at least. Apparently my omnipotence was lacking, at least as far as hearing the voice of a dragonfly.
I picked the dragonfly up, and attempted to free it's wings and legs from the webbing that still ensnared them. Once I had cleared away the worst of it, I tossed the dragonfly into the air to set it free. It beat it's wings rapidly, and immediately crashed back to the Earth.
Apparently my omnipotence was also lacking as far as properly removing spider's webbing from a dragonfly.
I then decided to toss the dragonfly onto the street, and tell it I would leave it's life up to fate, and traffic. I figure he had a 50/50 shot at that point.
What's the point of all this, you ask. The Beast is all powerful... Except when it comes to dragonflies. Who knew?
BEAST OUT
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
The Perfect Hook-Up Message for men Edition
|
Posted:Jul 10, 2012 5:23 pm
Last Updated:Jul 12, 2012 3:58 am
9835 Views
|
As an addition to my rant post, What the Fuck Part 2, I've decided to assist men lacking requisite messaging skills by providing access to some of my personal Beast Files. I've chosen one of my earliest cut and paste messages which served me well for many months of victorious vagina hunting.
Men - Use the following with care, or else be prepared to fuck incessantly should you choose to send it to too many women at once.
If you do not believe the power of what you're about to learn, take a casual look around this site. It's a little known fact that any woman with a gold ball on her profile... has been with The Beast. Any man with one, has been with a woman The Beast has been with, and through her, also been blessed by The Beast.
________________________________________
Dear (Insert name of whichever bimbo has caught my eye.),
I'm sending you this message because your profile and vaginal close-ups caught my eye. I was really impressed, both with your unique writing style, as well as the pink, moist hammer hole you were shoving a _____ into. (Verify what/color/size- chicks dig when you pay attention.) (Be sure to delete all of these reminders before sending message.)
Allow me to tell you a bit about myself, so you know who you're dealing with. I know that will put you more at ease, seeing as how my profile lacks photographs, and content. I'm a busy professional, so I'm sure you can understand my need for discretion.
As I was saying, I'm a professional. My specific area is consulting. (Always safe... Nobody knows what that shit means.) My consulting keeps me very busy, and also requires me to disappear for several days at a time, consulting where needed. (This establishes the need to "fly" away for days at a time.)
As you can see from the photographs I'm attaching, I'm a highly athletic individual. (Locate blurry or headless pictures on Google Images.) My current passion is Extreme Blind Parkour. It's the next big thing coming out of Europe, and I'm already highly adept. It's essentially Parkour while wearing a blindfold. It's extremely dangerous, but I'm more than capable.
Some of my other hobbies are reading, equestrian training (Once the bimbo looks that up, she'll be impressed.), and building water treatment devices in third world countries. The later obviously requires I fly out of country for sometimes weeks at a time. I'm sure you understand.
Enough about me, for now. I would really like to describe some of the things your photographs have stirred in me.
I really find your nose to be highly attractive. I would love to hover over you in the morning, rubbing my taint across the tip of it. My taint is very sensitive, and I'm sure you'll find it's early morning musk to be highly arousing.
I also have a forehead fetish. I'd love to slap my huge cock against yours for an hour. I did tell you how well endowed I am, didn't I? My apologies if I forgot. My manhood is a solid _____ inches, and _____. (Try to gauge how much she's looking for through her profile, and insert measurements appropriately.
Due to being bathed occasionally as a young lad by my aunt, who seemed to be overly concerned with the cleanliness of my anus, I now also have a fetish for Aunt/Nephew role play, with an acute focus on rectal cleanliness being at it's center. I'm sure you'll be understanding, and wish to help me deal with these deeply seated issues.
Focusing once again on your beautiful, and I'm sure delicious hammer hole, I can't wait to breathe in it's aroma, and have your taste upon my tongue.
If you would possibly entertain just one other desire for me when we meet, I have a certain urge to feast upon unwashed womanhood. Skipping 3-4 days of bathing prior to each of our dates should be adequate for you to reach the ripeness I so desperately desire. Again... I thank you deeply for your understanding.
So there you have it my dear. You've now read a brief summary of who I am, and what I seek in a sexual partner, and friend. (Always, always, always emphasize that friend shit! She's not just a fun bag and cum dump in your eyes.)
I eagerly await your response with halting breath.
Your ever faithful friend (Always remember that friend shit!), and servant,
(Insert whatever user name you've switched to since pulling the Houdini on the last bimbo.)
________________________________________
Use what you've learned here today wisely, my brethren, and you shall be richly rewarded with vagina, anus, and throat throughout the rest of your membership here.
BEAST OUT
|
|
|
5
Comments
|
|
The Best Movie Ever Made Edition
|
Posted:Jul 10, 2012 7:00 am
Last Updated:Jul 14, 2012 4:23 pm
10668 Views
|
Time: 8:30 a.m. Beastern Standard Time
Location: The Beast Burrow
Subject: Plot outline and cast for the very first Beast Burrow movie production.
Movie Title: Lord of the Gottarings
Cast:
Gottaring as Gottaraun, the all seeing eye of Blogdor.
SpiderJ72 as Fingerli, the Giant.
ImpishPixie as Tinkle, the Pixie.
Jules1590 as Gewelara, the Warrior Poet.
KarlBloggerfeld as Apneatron, the Time Traveling Cyborg.
SummerGoddess4 as Solara, the Sun Priestess.
HotSoccerMom as Flowmeister, the Blacksnake Charmer.
LadyTaTas as Breastzella the Wizard.
dirtygirl411 as Canadry, the Zombie Queen.
Gr8kissr as KissyFace, the Handsome Dragon Flyer.
OneClassy1 as ClassyChick, keeper of the Sammiches
japaneseass as Nippleron, the Ninja Sushi Babe
PussNBooties as Meeeoooow, the Cat Lady.
OneStrangeBeast as The Beast with no name.
Plot Summary:
A group of 13 companions must battle their way across Blogville to reach the fortress of Gottaraun, the all seeing eye of Blogdor.
Gottaraun has seized every last drop of nougat across the entire face of Blogville, and is using it to create an unstoppable army of Nougars, and also as a delicious snack.
The companions will face obstacles of harrowing danger, such as The Cock and Semen Swamp, The Flaming Pits (not to be confused with those of dirtygirl411), and The Forest of Dirty Underwear Which Turn Up in the Backgrounds of Many People's Profile Pictures. (We're working on a shorter name).
They will of course be beleaguered at every twist and turn by the vicious Nougar army of Gottaraun. They will be forced to hack and slash their way through countless nougat filled, mindless drones with only death and destruction on their minds. (Don't dwell on something mindless having something on it's mind. It will just hurt your mind.)
Not all of the companions will make it to the gates of Blogdor to face Gottaraun herself, and free the nougat from her clutches. A few will fall along their path. One will betray them all in a secret ploy to secure a piece of the nougat action for theirself.
Secrets will be revealed, Drama will unfold, Blood and Nougat will be spilled.
Don't miss what some critics are already hailing as the most important work of film ever to be produced!
Fall- 2012
Be there, asshats! 
|
|
|
14
Comments
|
|
What the Fuck Part 2 Edition
|
Posted:Jul 9, 2012 5:07 pm
Last Updated:Jul 10, 2012 5:27 pm
10386 Views
|
Never let it be said that The Beast doesn't always try to tackle a problem from all sides. A couple posts back, I had my rant over how many of the women on this site handle something that's been going on for years, and will continue to go on for however long these sites are operating.
I still stand by my conviction that women need to simply read crude messages, chuckle, shake their heads, delete, and move on with their lives. The phenomenon isn't going to suddenly stop because of any complaints.
And now..... I go to the flip side of my argument, effectively dismissing my own advice momentarily. Maybe I'll get through to just 2 or 3 men.
Men- Stop sending messages to women that qualify you to be in the running to win the Douchtastic Excellence Award.
I don't care if a woman has the username, with 257 pictures of her engaged in every imaginable sexual act with multiple men, she probably isn't going to be won over if your opening line is, "Hey ! How about I shove my cock down your throat?"
Women, for the most part, require more from even a casual sexual hook-up than her partner to have a pulse, and a functioning penis with which to shove into one of her orifices.
Women, even those who say they only want a Friends With Benefits type relationship, really want the friends part to exist in actuality, not just on paper.
I know many of you men out there might get discouraged on this site, when even your polite and well thought out messages are ignored or given a simple thank-you brush off. No matter how annoyed you get however, throwing any and all common human courtesy out the window is not going to get you any further along than you already are.
The one thing that may actually help you to stand a chance of making it beyond the initial message, is making sure that initial message has content that tells a woman that you're more than simply a throbbing orgasm waiting to happen, even if that's all you are.
Everybody with a computer should have some form of spell check installed. Use it. Compose your message in Word if your spelling is worse than an 8 year old's. Try an online dictionary even. There are plenty of them.
Try to say something nice other than, "Your snatch looks super juicy!", or, "I can't wait to choke you with my dick!"
I may be many things, but blatently stupid isn't one of them, and I realize what I'm writing right now isn't going to amount to much of anything. I doubt too many men actually read other men's blogs, and the ones who do are already probably on the same page as I am. Who knows though. Maybe some barely literate neaderthal will get curious because he sees the word Fuck in the title of this post and enter to see what all the fun is about.
BEAST OUT
|
|
|
9
Comments
|
|
The Epic of Bloggermesh (Incomplete) Edition
|
Posted:Jul 8, 2012 1:47 pm
Last Updated:Jul 28, 2012 1:23 pm
12412 Views
|
I had wanted at least 20 writers to get involved before wrapping this up, but I haven't sparked any interest for weeks.
Here is The Epic of Bloggermesh for anybody who feels like reading what we managed to get accomplished.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
A short story in 13 chapters, each chapter written
by an individual blogger from fbookhookups.com. Each writer saw only the chapter immediately preceeding their own contribution.
Thank-you Impish_Pixie, SpiderJ72, japaneseass, blondgirlis, KarlBloggerfeld, Indi297, Jules1590, smartasswoman, BazzarKt07, formerlyknownas, and Gr8kissr for the work each of you did.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 1
OneStrangeBeast
As Robert Rose stepped from the darkened movie theatre into the cool evening air, he had two things on his mind. He wondered what it would be like to have sex with a three breasted alien chick, and he desperately wanted a chocolate malted.
The three breasted alien question was inspired by the movie he had just seen. It had been the science fiction blockbuster of the summer; filled with explosions, daring escapes, epic fight scenes, and yes, a three breasted alien woman. Robert was a breast man at heart and the thought of an extra mammary gland for him to bury his face in was just about the best possible thing he could imagine.
The closest place for him to get the chocolate malted he craved was a burger joint a few miles up the road, near the bridge leading outside the city limits. He walked briskly to his pickup truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine turned over on his second attempt and he pulled out into the sparse traffic of his small town.
Robert turned the knob on his truck’s radio and was instantly rewarded with an excessively loud barrage of heavy metal music erupting from his cheap, after market speakers. He had installed them himself and didn’t mind that they were second-hand, and cheap. They were loud, and that’s all that mattered to Robert. He wanted his heavy metal as loud and obnoxious as he could get it. It upset the old geezers who always sat outside the shops on the main street through town.
Robert was sick to death of living in a place where the biggest thrill you could hope to get was being chased down a back road by the inept local sheriff after a beer party by the river. He was determined to make something of himself and leave the tiny shithole he currently called home far behind in his rearview mirror.
The truck ate up the three and a half miles between the movie theatre and Martin’s Diner. He may have lived in a small, shithole of a town, but Martin’s could be counted on for the quality of food you might expect in a larger city. People said that Martin had worked in a fancy restaurant in years past and had moved to a smaller area to get away from the stress of the city and to be his own boss.
Robert was nearly to Martin’s parking lot when he glanced ahead and noticed a strange light near the bridge that would take you beyond the city limits and away from Shitburg, U.S.A. The light was a bizarre greenish yellow color and seemed to pulse or strobe as he looked at it. Robert decided his stomach could wait a little while longer for the malted. In a town where nothing ever happened, anything new and different might be worth getting a closer look at. He kept the truck on the road and headed toward the bridge.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 2
Impish_pixie
Eliza took a deep breath and then very quickly wished she had not. Where in the hell had HE thrown her this time? And what exactly had she forgotten in his long list of “needs” that had pissed him off so badly that he’d felt the need to blast her from his presence, again? And WHAT was all this mucky stuff she was laying in? It certainly wasn’t anything found on Astrid. Nothing on Astrid could even begin to smell THIS bad. Wet, stinky and mucky…Eliza realized with a growing sense of dread and outright panic that he had finally made true his promise to throw her onto Earth. Hadn’t he told her a million times that all bad girls go to Earth?
Ok. No time for panic. It was time to figure out exactly where she was, and plan a course of action to stay alive and out of sight until someone realized that the supreme asshole had once again overstepped his bounds and blasted her here. The passing thought that her brothers were going to be pissed did bring a short lived smile to her face. Short lived because she realized that she was no longer alone and the “creature” was now staring at her chest and she could swear she saw drool.
The “thing” acted like he’d never seen a woman with breasts before. She glanced down to make sure nothing had fallen out in the blast but everything seemed to be in place, and yet she still found herself reaching down to self conscientiously readjust the girls. She wondered if she should attempt conversation or just zap him a bit and go find shelter. Thankfully she had paid attention in her “It’s A Big Galaxy” classes that her brothers had insisted she take so she was at least fairly certain that the Human wouldn’t eat her.
Deciding that she just didn’t feel like dealing with the Human, she sent him a tiny little mind flash; nothing that would cause permanent harm or much pain, just enough to get past him. Nothing! Not even a flinch. WTF? HE wouldn’t dare blast her to Earth AND take her ability to protect herself. Would he? Oh this was really too much. Now what?
Robert just stood there on the bank staring at the apparition wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, or perhaps the popcorn had been laced with some kind of hallucinogenic drug by the nerdy at the concession stand. No way was he seeing what he was seeing, right? Was his need for adventure in a shitty little town to such a point that he’d start imagining things that weren’t possible? Or, dear God, as he lived and breathed, was there REALLY a woman of uncommon beauty standing in front of him adjusting her THREE breasts? Granted she had the look of a deer in the headlights, and after his initial gut punch of pure lust, he realized she looked a little lost and a lot scared. “PERFECT”, his mind screamed, “YOU get to be the HERO which can only set you up for many hours of thankful adoration.”
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 3
spiderj72
“You aren’t from around here are you?” Robert said. He watched as her head swiveled to follow his voice and it was almost as if you could see the wheels turning in her head. In actuality it was almost like that. She was running his phrase through her language center and trying to match it to what she knew.
Robert was pleased when she shook her head in a “no” manner and smiled at him. The smile conveyed all the warmth that Eliza could manage. Inside she still seethed at ending up at this world and now having to deal with one of its inhabitants.
A quick scan of his mind almost overwhelmed Eliza. She was struck by the rawness of the emotion and thoughts that were there. It was so raw, not at all like she was used to. It was raw and what image grabbed at her mind the most was one of her bent over with her hands flat on a chair. Behind her driving his cock into her was the man, his hands were gripping her hips tight and pulling her back into the force of his thrusts.
Shaking the thought off she smiled again at him and this time really took him in. He seemed like an okay specimen of humanity. There was nothing particularly off putting about him. He seemed to have all of his hair and his eyes were bright and shiny. When he talked he seemed to have all his teeth and a quick survey of him up and down showed all his limbs there and no unpleasing bulges in his torso. She did linger on what she knew was his sexual organ and was pleased to see a little flush of swelling into his organ.
“It was the extra breast that gave you away.” He said and pointed to where her extra breast sat in the middle of her chest.
Her eyes followed his pointing finger and took in what he was pointing too. Eliza’s smile widened and for his benefit she shook her upper torso back and forth and produced a nice shimmy that shook all three of her breasts in an enticing manner for Robert.
It was seconds after this abundant show took place that Robert decided with all of his lizard brain to get his new friend the hell out of the street and into his house, or a hotel, or even a dark alley where he could get his horny little hands on her flesh. The lust he was feeling for this lady was as pure a lust as he had ever felt before.
Taking her by the upper arm he dragged her away from the mud and the bank of the river and closer to his home. The flesh underneath his hands was firm and smooth. He could swear that it was like his fingers were drunk just touching her. They had the same foolish and thick feeling he had when his hand had fallen asleep and he tried to do something delicate like unzip his coat or work the button fly on his favorite jeans.
Eliza stumbled on behind him. She was anxious to see where he was taking her. She hoped that her little show was enough to activate his lust/protection complex and make sure that he would make sure that she was his and only his. It was an old trick in the female arsenal but it still did the job and Robert hurried the two of them along thinking only of what fun his future had in store for him.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 4
japaneseass
They didn’t know how long they had been running. It seems like it was just a few minutes, but again, felt like an eternity to them.
Robert pulled Eliza’s hands and pulled her body next to his sleek body. His eyes were glassy, but she could see the small sparks flying, deep inside of them.
Eliza could not resist running her naughty fingers all over his lean body. His skin was rather cool, smooth, and reminded her of a reptile. Every move he made, he emitted a mixture of coconut and lime scent, which made her mouth watery and Eliza licked her lips.
Perhaps, that was a sign. Robert’s tongue brushed against Eliza’s wet lips, ever so slightly, flickering. Eliza took it as his invitation, and opened her mouth more, slowly, welcoming the tip of Robert’s tongue. His tongue slipped right into her mouth, and met with hers. Eliza sucked his tongue.
Robert took Eliza’s hand, and guided down to his erected manhood. Eliza gasped with the excitement, took his hard burning rod into her hand, and started to stroke. Her lips soon followed the happy trail, down South, and latched onto his cock. The sensation of wet and warm lips, tightly wrapped around his shaft was enough to make Robert gasped and moaned.
Eliza kneeled down between his legs; her head bobbed up and down, fast and slow. She sucked, she blew. Her tongue licked his cock head, round and round, as if she was licking a melting soft ice cream. The shiny, thin, pre-cum, strung between her lips and his penis head. It was beautiful, and that made her happy. Eliza looked up Robert, and smiled.
Robert smiled back, and he pulled Eliza up. He knelt down in front of her, and grabbed her two side breasts with his both hands. They were bouncy, and had some weight to it. The warm dough filled his large hands nicely, and he kneaded them softly.
Robert moved his focus to Eliza’s hard nipples. He brushed them with his lips, and made her nipples even harder and erected. He sucked them, gently biting between lips. He rolled both her nipples between his thumbs and the index fingers, as he sucked one breast in the middle.
That made Eliza’s cunt twitched. She felt her knees are getting weaker and weaker. As her pussy juice dripped down between the thighs, she moaned, cried, and screamed.
Eliza doesn’t remember exactly how many times she was pushed over the edge of orgasms, but it really didn’t matter. By then, she was a total hot mess, melting all over.
Robert picked one of her legs up, aligned himself with her cunt; slowly pushed his hot spear into her dark moist cave. The tightness and the wetness surrounded him, and pleased him. He picked up the speed.
His juice mixed up with hers. The heat was intense. Robert and Eliza were melted, and now, fused together. Eliza knew Robert was close.
“I’m gonna cum in you…”
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 5
blondgirlis
Said Robert. He pumped his rock hard shaft into Eliza faster and faster. Then with a final push he brought
them both over the edge, with him groaning and Eliza screaming, tightly gripping his cock.
Robert continued to hold Eliza close to him as his final spasms ceased. In turn Eliza could feel their juices
mingling together. Then as he placed her leg back down, Eliza could feel the cum oozing from her pussy
running down her thighs.
Eliza bent down to rummage through her bag that she had dropped to the ground earlier to find something to clean herself up with. In a pocket she found some disposable wipes, took two out and gave herself a quick cleanup. As she went to throw the packet back in she noticed a little green light blinking at the bottom of her bag. Eliza turned to Robert, who leaning against a brick wall, her eyes wide with her bag held wide open for him to look inside. What he saw was unbelievable! He reached down inside, pulled out his hand and opened his palm to reveal a small black disc, a little smaller than a fifty cent coin with the light blinking in the center.
"Fuck! Shit!" he said. "What is it?" asked Eliza as she peered into his palm. "It's a tracking device. Someone has been tracking us or better yet you" he answered, as he threw the device to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. "Who is it?" Robert demanded. Eliza hung her head, "It's probably The Boss." "Who's The Boss? What is he to you?" Robert questioned.
The Boss was a big, surly, mean of a bitch. He stood 6'3" tall, weighed 242 pounds, with a very
muscular build. His hair was black and close shaven to his head, his face clean shaven but always seemed to have that 5 o'clock shadow look and the most piercing blue eyes. The Boss was a commanding presence and had the attitude to match. Men feared him and women desired him.
The Boss ran The Random House. At night it was the hottest night club in town; where the wealthy mingled with the middle class, the beautiful with the freaks. By day The House was a place of business for The Boss and his crew. You wanted/needed something, someone, you came to him. It didn't matter if it was a precious jewel, a lawn mower or the girl next door, or if your request was a matter of life or death. To The Boss it was all random. Although nothing was for free, nothing is ever free after all. Welcome to The Random House.
Who was Eliza to The Boss? She was his woman, she belonged to him or so he thought. He was aware
that she had begun to act strangely, he became suspicious of her. So he planted a tracking device in her bag.
It didn't take long for him to realize she was seeing someone else, a guy named Robert. The Boss was
incensed! Here was another man fucking his woman. Who did this asshole think he was? But could he
blame him? After all she was a helluva good lay.
He thought back to their first time together, he and Eliza, on the train. The wheels on the rails clackity
clack clack.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 6
KarlBloggerfeld
The Boss loudly passed gas. “Fucking burrito,” he thought to himself. He knew better than to eat that kind of shit. But that’s what having a for a girlfriend did to him. Eliza would go off on “business” and the next thing he knew, he was anxiety-eating again. “Well that’s another 20 minutes on the treadmill to burn off some Taco Fucking Bell,” he muttered under his breath. Rummaging around in his desk, he found a blister pack full of Gas-X and popped a couple in his mouth. Although he was so menacing he was certain nobody would have the nerve to crack so much as a smirk if he did, it simply wouldn’t do to loudly fart in front of a potential . It wasn’t good for the image – and it stirred up memories that he’d rather forget.
Rubbing the perpetual stubble on his face, The Boss almost unwillingly thought back to his childhood. He didn’t take trips down memory lane often. He’d worked a lifetime to transform himself into a different person, pushing steel and pushing people – lots of both. But some days there was just no getting away from the past and the knowledge that he wasn’t always The Boss.
Once, The Boss was nothing but a chubby named Chester with digestive issues. Once, Chester the Chub, as his classmates called him, was asked by his teacher to come to the front of the class and write the answer to some stupid fucking question on the board. Once, Chester the Chub farted in front of the class and everyone laughed. Once.
On that day, Chester the Chub died. The Boss slit his throat and killed him. Oh, it took years before the changes were complete, but on that day, Chester the Chub died and The Boss was born. He ate a higher fiber diet and started working out. And by the time he dropped out of high school when he was 17, he not only had sheet as long as his arm, but he had an arm that could crush a few skulls if need be.
And that’s what he did. He’d taken note of every motherfucker who’d laughed at him that fateful day. Although they didn’t remember “The Fart” as it became emblazoned in The Boss’ mind, he did. And he had the sheet to prove it.
The Boss shook his head and spat on the floor. He’d be well and truly fucked if he was going to sit in his office musing about his oh so humble beginnings while Eliza was out there fucking some asshole. Whoever this guy was, he was about to get one helluva wakeup call.
Usually, it was other people who came to The Random House needing something. And whatever they needed, The Boss could get – if they could pay the price. This time though, The Boss was the one in need. This time, it was The Boss who needed to find someone. Only, The Boss figured he wouldn’t be the one paying the price. This time, Eliza and her fuckwad of a new boyfriend would pay that price. And The Boss was going to make sure he collected every last fucking cent. Right after he ate a few more Gas-X.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 7
Indi297
Thinking to himself, I don't need this shit anymore. Why do I do this day in and day out? Why do I have a fucking for a girlfriend? Why do I constantly have to deal with these shit-heads at work? Isn't that why I pay these fuckhead managers to take care of this shit that I am dealing with every day? Scratching his chin and belching, that's it, I'm done, he exclaimed. Eliza can go to hell and take her fuckwad boyfriend with her. Oh she will get hers, trust me and it will not be pretty.
The Boss has decided he wanted out for a couple weeks. He needs to clear his aching head, retreat and regroup. Then and only then can he deal with Eliza properly. Stinking bitch he thinks to himself while he is picking up the phone to call the travel agent. Yeah hi it’s me, is Sandy there? Yes I am going on travel that is why I am on the phone calling a “travel agency”, is she there or not? Fine I'll hold.
First class is always the way to go. Leg room, superior service, better food, blankets, yeah this is the life. Across the isle is a beautiful blond crying. The Boss takes and hates to see a woman cry. Under his gruff exterior is a soft spot for women, so he leans over and says excuse me Miss, are you alright? She looks at him and cries even harder. He gets up and walks over and sits down next to her. Is there anything I can do Miss? She leans into his chest bawling her eyes out and finally starts to calm down where she can speak. I'm so sorry Mr, my husband just left me for a younger woman, I'm filing for divorce and flying to Hawaii. She starts again, he puts his arm around her and lets her cry it out.
They both wake up when the plane is starting its descent. He goes back over to his seat and buckles in. She mouths the words thank you. My name is Stella. He says welcome, I'm Chester. Hawaii here I come he's thinking to himself.
Off the plane, picking up luggage, and somehow missing the stunning blond in the airport. Shit he's thinking to himself, he should have found out what hotel she was staying at. Oh well, walking outside, he gets laid and there is a car waiting for him. Thank God for Sandy he thinks to himself, she is always on the ball.
The hotel is huge. Palm trees everywhere, and I have best room on the property overlooking the ocean. Man I could get used to this. He puts his bags on the bed and opens the sliding glass doors. He walks out onto the balcony. Grabs a cigarette out of his pocket and lights one up. What a fucking paradise! Damn I have not had agida since I left, what does that tell ya?
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 8
Jules1590
The Boss let out a long exhale, his blue eyes squinting slightly, as he watched the gray smoke curl and fade up into the warm tropical air. It seemed that one heavy exhale released all the lurid shit that was going on in his world and seemed hell bent on stirring up the acid in his stomach. Away went that bitch-slut Eliza and her pretty boy toy, (he’ll mete out some divine retribution when the time was right, if the Boss was anything, he was patient). Also with it went the imbeciles he was employing who couldn’t take a dump without asking whether they should wipe or not and the threat of the buy-out from that asshole Roberson. He had a grudging respect for his business acumen and ruthlessness, but still hated the fuck nonetheless.
Chester rested a well-muscled shoulder against the cool marble tile and peered out over the lush foliage, palm trees and the turquoise surf of Hanalei Bay in the distance. Wow, what a view. Two weeks… yes, two weeks in paradise to regroup, clear his head, re-charge, unwind and maybe have a little fun. Visions of getting laid by one of the tawny island natives danced in his head and caused a slight thickening in his trousers. Fuckn Eliza, she practically sucked the life out of his cock, it was good to feel that old familiar stirring again. Yeah, he needed this trip alright.
He placed the cigarette between his lips and quickly unloosened the buttons on his shirt. He was itching to feel the warm sun on his bare chest and soak it in. The lines in the Boss’s face smoothed out as he stripped, yeah… that’s what I’m talking about. He stood on the balcony in his grey boxer briefs and black socks. He looked around and muttered, “ I gotta get rid of this butt.” Not seeing anything, he ground it out against the balcony wall and flicked it over the side shrugging, “Whatever.”
Turning to walk back into the cool room, he caught the flash of blonde hair and amused green eyes over the 4 foot balcony wall of the adjoining room. It brought him up short, he recognized those haunting eyes. They had been red-rimmed from anguished tears of betrayal and divorce on the plane ride over the Pacific. It was Stella; the beauty with the great legs who he had consoled and offered a kind and empathetic ear to. Hell, he was a sucker for a woman’s tears.
Shaking his head at her, he smiled warmly at her and challenged, “What are YOU lookin at?”
She laughed, “YOU. Too lazy to find a fuckn ashtray?”
He grinned broadly. Sassy. He liked that. Chester also liked the fact that her spirits were up. Maybe the view and the breeze were recuperative for her as well. She didn’t seem the least bit perturbed that he was standing there in nothing but his drawers, in fact, she was boldly eyeing him up and down, and settling on the growing bulge in his now quite snug shorts. Damn she was a hot piece.
He crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest, bulging out his biceps, and leaned against the wall and shrugged, “No, not lazy at all. If they wanted me to put out my cigarette in my approved cigarette smoking hotel room, they would supply their guests with a fucking ashtray on their fucking balcony, now wouldn’t they?”
She laughed again; it was a low sultry laugh. I bet she laughed like that on purpose. It was very sexy. She said lightly, “Nice black socks.”
Oh yeah, he liked her alright.
Thoughts of going native with one of the locals flew out the window. Miss. Stella would do very nicely and he could be very comforting to a woman who was looking for a Rebound Guy. He’d been Rebound Guy on plenty of occasions and certainly the ladies were very appreciative of his attentions.
He raised a sardonic brow, “Yeah, you like my black socks eh? They go rather nice with my grey drawers don’t they?”
She bit her lower lip and smiled through it, wow, that’s sexy. “Hmmmm… Can’t really tell how well they match from here.”
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 9
smartasswoman
Chester growled, “Would you like a closer look?” and Stella purred back, “Why, yes.” He vaulted over the four foot wall with alacrity and strolled next to her. With smoldering eyes she admired his strong biceps, barrel chest, and tree trunk thighs.
She stepped closer. Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped an arm around her, reaching up to grab a handful of her long blond hair and grip it firmly. This lassie wasn’t going anywhere. She relaxed against his strong arm and gazed into his eyes.
He bent his head down to kiss her neck and inhaled her intoxicating fragrance. Planting little kisses he worked his way up her neck and then finally put his mouth over hers. Her lips were lush and soft, and her breath was sweet. Their lips melted against each other. Boldly she reached down and lightly raked her long red fingernails against the bulge in his boxer briefs. He groaned and instantly went from a mild swelling to rock hard.
This was no time for subtlety and finesse – his free hand dove inside the plunging neckline of her dress to explore the treasures within. Her breasts were perfectly shaped and sized, firm, and her nipples promptly stood at attention and saluted him.
Meanwhile Stella’s hand had transformed from a light raking across his crotch to a firm grip. Dropping her hair, he slid his hand under her dress and moved it up her satin thigh. Sneaking ever higher, he felt silky panties….and…a bulge where no bulge should be!
“GAH!” He leapt backward about three feet, with a blinding flash of insight into why Stella’s husband had divorced “her”. Tears sprung into Stella’s eyes.
Before he had a chance to leap back across the balcony wall with twice as much alacrity as the first time, Stella’s hotel room door was kicked in. Four black-clad figures wearing black masks rushed in and grabbed Chester and Stella.
As Chester struggled with his two attackers, he thought, “Crap! Never thought I’d be so grateful to be interrupted by a ninja attack!” Chester was a strong man and an accomplished fighter, but eventually the ninjas overpowered him. He was pushed into a straight backed chair, which was placed back to back with another straight backed chair, where Stella was being held down by the other two ninjas. Lengths of rope were wrapped around and around them, until the two of them were tied firmly together.
Chester whispered furiously out of the side of his mouth, “So, did you piss off these dudes too by pulling your little crying game on them?” Stella whispered back with equal fury, “I don’t know what the hell this is about!”
The seeming leader of the ninjas bent down and put his lips up against Chester’s ear. Gross! What were the chances that not one, but two dudes would come on to him in the space of ten minutes? Imagine his surprise and shock when a distinctly feminine, hauntingly familiar voice said, “Now, Chester….now you will pay.”
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 10
bazzarKt07
Chester was stumped. He knew that voice, the slow undulating way she said “Now...” But he couldn’t place her...
The leader of the masked ninjas, quietly instructed the group to leave the room. “I need to ready my toys for you, Chester. You were surprisingly easy to subdue, easier than I remember you being. You must contemplate the error of your ways as you wait. I’ll be back shortly...” And with that, the mysterious woman exited the hotel room with barely the sound of the latch clicking.
“What the shit Chester?” Stella demanded, “Who are these people? Who was that woman? What have you gotten me into!? Oh God I’m too young to die!”
She hung her head and loudly sobbed, tears and mucus sloppily sliding down her make-up caked face. Her mascara ran clear down to her chin, as it faded away the slightly more masculine features became apparent. “Her” mask was gone.
Chester sat, in his bindings, still. Without even attempting to struggle out of the rope wound tightly around them both, he knew it would be a futile attempt. These people, whoever they were, meant business.
He was deep in thought, “Who would hate me so much to do this? Who have I wronged? What is her name.Denise...Diane...Dana...Danielle...Daphne... I know it starts with a D somehow, but who?!”
Chester and Stella sat there for what seemed like hours in near silence, neither one speaking for fear of worsening the situation.
Chester kept running over the list of possibilities in his head...”Toys, which one liked to play with toys...Oh Diane was such a kink. Loved to have her little asshole played with. Lightly lube up the cotton-candy pink butt plug, secretly pop it in right after I plunged into her wet pussy, she always liked that surprise. And Dana had the riding crop and quirt collection she prefered to have used on her, oh the chocolate-brown studded handle one, brings back memories. The little yelps she would let out right after it kissed her skin, barely leaving a pink welt on her perfectly shaped apple ass. Danielle was too innocent to have anything hiding under her bed, surely. Now Daphne, Daphne never met a toy she didn't like. If she could own a smut store I bet she would. The drawers of vibes, dildos, plugs, restraints, costumes, damn that girl loved to play with her toys. I always loved to see how creative she could gett, there were some great ones. The victorian corset with the nipple clamps built-in. The conservative secretary with the double penetrating panties she wore while sucking me off. God that was some good head”
All the while Chester was reliving the list of suspects, his arousal grew at his fond memories. Straining against his boxers, beginning to peer out of the buttoned opening his cock kept growing and throbbing to its full potential.
If only Chester knew what the masked woman had in store for him, she waited until he was fully aching with want before would step foot in the room again. Make him sweat a little.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 11
Formerlyknownas
She was sure Chester was sweating in the other room, she was more than happy to let him sweat, she was rather upset that he hadn't been able to place her. She was going to make him squirm a while longer. She wanted him to be uncomfortable. She just had to get rid of that woman, Stella, she was a whiny thing that one, she was surprised that Chester was with her, she really wasn't his type. She picked up the phone and told the masculine voice on the other end that the girl was his to do with as he pleased but that he needed to move her to a different cell. She figured she'd let him go remove Stella before heading into to deal with Chester.
Chester tried to scan the room for a way out. The room had several doors, he was unsure if they were all exits or if there were other rooms connected to the chamber they were currently in. Stella was still whimpering behind him. Suddenly there was a noise behind the door to his right. A rather large masked man came into the chambers, he didn't utter a word, two more men followed behind him. None of them said a word, the larger man started to loosen the rope binding him to Stella, just as the rope was removed the other two men grab both Stella and Chester, The larger man took Stella, she tried to fight him but he was too strong, he subdued her quickly as the door closed tightly behind them. The man who was holding him started moving towards the door on the left, the other man opened the door. Chester was forcibly pushed into a chair with restraints at the wrist and ankles, the men secured him to the chair and exited the room. Chester heard the door lock securely behind the men. In the silence of this new room without the whimpers of Stella to mark time, Chester drifted off to sleep.
The sound of the door to his new cell unlocking startled Chester awake. There she was, a mask still covered her face, but she was wearing little else. Chester struggled for clarity. She carried a bag with her, Chester started noticing the other furniture in the room as she placed the bag she was carrying on the table in the corner. She silently and carefully unloaded the contents of her bag onto the table, a flogger, a single tailed whip, several small bottles; the very last thing she removed she blocked from his view. He was surprised at how quickly she was at his side, in her hand she held a syringe, she pushed the needle quickly into his arm; Chester flinched at the sharpness of the pain and the burning sensation. Finally she spoke, this should make you more cooperative she said, and her voice was so damn familiar. She undid the restraints on the chair, Chester allowed himself to be led to the bed where she quickly restrained him at its four corners.
She removed what little clothing she had on, Chester stared at her, she had an incredible body, why couldn't he place her? She moved slowly to the side of the bed. She removed Chester's clothing. She started to gently caressing his body, her touch felt familiar, and despite himself he found himself getting aroused. She turned her back to him and started removing her mask, but he couldn't make out her features in the dimly lit room. She climbed astride him and lowered her face to kiss his neck, as she got closer to his face the light finally hit her face. Chester recognized her just as whatever she had injected him with caused him to black out.
The Epic of Bloggermesh
Chapter 12
Gr8kissr
Mother. She was Mother.
The shock hit him hard. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel it course through his body as his muscles flexed to near breaking point. Just as he'd blacked out he'd felt her slide onto his cock, taking him in one swift motion as he'd simultaneously felt the probe being inserted into his anus. It was the probe that had done it. He'd felt a barely perceptible click before it had hit him. As his body relaxed and he felt himself slipping away again, a curser appeared as though suspended before him in the darkness.
CHESTER____
Cyborg-Human Electro-Stasis Erotic Reanimation____
Unit 6/9 identified____
Connection to Mother established____
Disjointed memories flooded back with disturbing clarity. There had been the accident, the seemingly endless surgeries, the painful recoveries, and doctors reassuring him that there were no other options.
He'd signed the papers in a semi-drugged state, just wanting the pain to go away. They'd told him that it was his only option. He would die, but he'd be held in electro-stasis until such time as they could rebuild what he had lost.
What was most disturbing was that he'd remembered his death. He'd watched as though in a dream as they'd administered the drug, and though he'd slipped into unconsciousness, he'd heard them declare him deceased. He'd then listened in horror as he'd heard a female voice say "good, the other five have failed, let's hope this unit makes it through." just as he'd faded into oblivion.
Hers had been the first face he'd seen upon reanimation. Her naked body pressed against him, enveloping his manhood as a probe had been removed. He'd been confused, but knew he had a purpose. Inexplicably he knew he was here for her pleasure and thrust into her. She had leant her head back and moaned before striking him across the face with a riding crop.
That had been his introduction to Mother.
Though he'd been programmed to obey her commands, he'd still needed to be trained. Half his brain was still intact, he'd heard them say, and that half needed to learn by traditional means. He was a blank slate, they'd said, the perfect pleasure slave.
By day he was put through the ropes, sometimes literally. He was alternately programmed then instructed on subservience, how to please his master. But by night, he was haunted by increasingly vivid dreams, waking up in a cold sweat to find himself being regarded by Mother, a curious and concerned look on her face.
She was not an overtly cruel woman, even though she brutalized his body at times. She was tender as well, taking him into her mouth as a reward when he learned new skills, riding him to earth shattering orgasms when he mastered them.
He was, by some definition then, a Mother fucker. A cyborg-zombie motherfucker according to the guards outside his stasis chamber, who'd all worn leather masks to disguise their features and to keep up the appearance that the lab was in fact a professional Dominatrix's residence.
But his dreams didn't cease. In fact they became ever more vivid and detailed. They were of a normal life, or what his human side deemed to be normal. He had a vague recollection of another name; John, or possibly Jason. He dreamed of riding the open road along the coast on a vintage Triumph motorcycle, the wind whipping his coat as he took each corner faster than the next; of a woman named Clara, a blonde, short haired little pixie who liked to bite. He dreamed of freedom; the freedom to do as he chose.
And he dreamed of an accident, though the details of that seemed to elude him at the time.
So he ran. Though it was against all he'd been programmed for, he ran. He had pried himself out of the stasis chamber and escaped through the skylight using the ropes Mother had used to constrain him during his training.
He'd been impressed with the power in his robotically modified legs as he leapt from the rooftop to the adjoining building, and reveled in the joy of soaring through the air as he leapt to the next. What he hadn't calculated on was his lack of depth perception. With only one biological eye, and the other not quite calibrated correctly, he'd found himself descending just shy of the third edifice, and crashing through the window of a seventh floor apartment.
As these memories flooded back to him, he felt another jolt. The cursor disappeared, his vision cleared and he found himself once again staring into her eyes. He acquiesced to his desire to thrust deeply inside of her and was once again rewarded with a shot from her riding crop.
Just like old times.
He looked around. There was no sign of Stella or anyone else in the room.
"Hello Mother" he said.
"Hello Chester," she replied. "You've been a bad little mother fucking cyborg –zombie, haven't you?
Then all hell broke loose.
|
|
|
12
Comments
|
|
What the Fuck Edition!
|
Posted:Jul 7, 2012 6:53 pm
Last Updated:Aug 16, 2013 4:39 am
11690 Views
|
I wish I could tell you, minions, that you'll enjoy reading today's offering of burrow drippings, but I'm afraid the majority of you will not.
You won't enjoy what I have for you today, because any of you who possess a vagina, are about to get a solid ass chewing, and not the good kind.
I must insist, and I'll bet I speak for a great deal of the other men on this site, that you all stop bitching, moaning, and crying every day about getting exactly what a person who joins this site is supposed to get... Offers to engage in blatant, sexual escapades with the opposite (or same) sex!
Please don't give me the standard, "I know this is a sex site, but blah, blah, blah." I'm sick of reading it on profiles, reading it as blog posts, and wherever else one of you can think to write it because you can't wrap your minds around the fact that joining a site called fbookhookups.com is like jumping headfirst into a swimming pool full of cocks and semen.
Men are going to act like men, for the most part. We've been doing it for thousands of years of written history, and yet women here, and on countless talk shows are still taken by surprise by it on a daily basis.
I can't recall how many women I've seen on here complaining about having to sift through dozens, or even hundreds of messages from guys who offer up gems along the lines of, "Hey girl, I have a cock, want me to put it in one a yer holes?"
Fucking deal with it, or go join e Fucking Harmony and meet a man who meets your 47 levels of compatability. Join Christian Mingle for fucks sake, and maybe a man will bore you to tears, telling you how much he loves Jesus before asking if he could possibly hold your hand.
I would be overjoyed to have to sift through just.... 5 messages a week, deleting the ones which showed no promise. At least I would feel like I was spending money for this site, and actually getting a return on my investment, because the joy of blogging aside, I'm certainly not making instant sexual connections.
Women here, for the most part, have their pick of any number of partners offering to do any and all manner of things to attempt to make their bodies feel good, and all the majority of them do is complain about it. The majority of the complaints revolve around a simple concept. Holy sheep fuck! Men are acting like men here!
My absolute favorites are when women save up a dozen or more of their favorite bad come-ons, and post that as their blog post for the day. Not only do they find every reason in the book to snub every approach to get their yummies, but then they turn around and hold all of those men up for ridicule. The very next day, I'll bet dollars to doughnuts they're writing about the evils of holding a woman up for ridicule because of her weight, appearance, or some other aspect.
I'll say it again... Men have a limited tool box to get what they want for the most part. Even if they have a gift for words, do you really think, "I can't wait to suck them tittays!", isn't bubbling just beneath the surface? I'll bet dollars to doughnuts it is.
This has been the way for thousands of years, and yet dozens of talk show hosts pull in ludicrous salaries to allow people to discuss the same, tired ass topics as if it's all fucking new!
What The Fuck!
I swear, the next time I read some woman's horrible anguish over having been offered cock on fbookhookups.com, I'm just going to smash my face into my keyboard and scream for about ten minutes straight.
What The Fuck!
BEAST DONE RANTING
|
|
|
17
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (OneStrangeBeast) use [blog OneStrangeBeast] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
18
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
271
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
|
|
|
|
