The F Plus - 193: The Thing You Like In Pain

Episode Date: November 8, 2015

Fanfiction is a complicated artistic endeavor. To connect with an audience, a writer needs to exploit a subject that resonates with an audience, and then serve concept, dialogue and action which the audience would find pleasing. Or, if you're the people behind imaginensfwoah, you skip all of that completely. The characters are non-specific, the setting is non-specific, but the action taking place is 100% disgusting. This is very much one of the grosser F Plus episodes, just prepare yourself for that. This week, The F Plus is creeped out by that fifth dentist.

Welcome to the F Plus Podcast, a terrible place with terrible things that are on Tumblr and yet are still read with enthusiasm. In the room tonight we have Boots Ring Gear. By all means, poop stuff is absolutely welcome. Bunny Bread! White people, it's like Icy Hot but it tastes shitty. John Toast. Imagine your fave taking part in a medical experiment and ending up pregnant with a litter of puppies. Nutshell Gulag!

Imagine your fave will only date you on the condition you abstain from sex, porn, and other sexual things until marriage. And Lemon. Imagine your fave sucking happily on a soother while you rub and stimulate them through their diaper. Or don't. I know which one I'm going to choose. I gotta hold on to my disgust. which one I'm going to choose. Hey, F-Block. Hey.

Hi, Lemon. Hello. Are you all feeling creative today? Shit no. So creative. Yes. Okay. Well, a little bit, you know, mixed. So I thought that to help us with our creative endeavors, we would go to a place that is filled with artists and creative types,

people who create beauty every day. That sounds lovely. All right. So to that end, we're going to be going to Tumblr. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. It's already falling apart. I never expected a bait and switch there. No, no, no, no.

Never done that before. So we're going to be going to tumblr and um we are going to be exploring a blog called imagine nsfwo i didn't name it anyway so um so it's not safer whoa is that a wrestling organization? No. So we've done some fan fiction in the past, and this is a little bit of a fan fiction-driven episode, but with a twist. So what we have instead of fan fiction is situations where they're prompts for you as a human being

to imagine the fan fiction existing, and then you'll get a boner. Oh, I like boners. Works out for me. I will? You will get a boner. You're going to get your boner, woman. Now just hush up.

Wait. You will get a boner. I guess there's a first time for everything. You'll get yours in the mail. Oh. So this is, yeah, this is Imagine NSFW. Whoa. And these are things that you should imagine.

I think, Boots, if you'll start us off here, none of these prompts are going to be named. That's just sort of the Tumblr format. But on the top of the page, there's a little header, and it says, Imagine an Imagine blog that's gender neutral, not heterocentric, screens for quality, and post kinks more than joke posts. NSFW18

plus six lewd dudes are online right now. What quality are they screening for exactly? Well, we make up five of those lewd dudes. Right. So we've got us and then a fifth and sixth lewd dude. Come join us. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Call us up. Calling all lewd dude, come join us. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Call us up. Calling all lewd dudes. In a time machine. Lewd dudes. My favorite arcade game. All right, so Boots, help us imagine something. Imagine your fave in a very public setting. Done.

Oh, yeah. Hold on. And favorite reblog. It's about to get real hot. They're hunched over with their stomach gurgling ominously through their splayed hands. I read ahead and I'm

so sorry. Don't do that. Don't ever do that. People jump and turn to watch as a sharp fart slips past their clenched, sweaty cheeks. Your fave's face is contorted. They pant and whimper, shaking with the effort to avoid the inevitable. In a few

seconds, it's all over. Your fave can practically feel the burning stares as a hot mess of shit crackles through their twitching hole. Oh, God. It's twitching? Oh boy. You can't see the face I'm making, but I'm making a face.

I can see it now. Yeah, we can see it through the internet, don't worry. It shows up in the waveform. Tears stream down their cheeks as the seat of their pants protrudes obscenely. The shit only slightly muffling the bubbles of gas.

People gasp as your fave finishes with a groan. They shuffle from the crowd and towards the wall you're leaning on. You end the recording on your phone and lead your fave home, praising them and giving them a well-deserved orgasm when they're cleaned up.

How are you... How do you do that? You shit your pants. Here's a handjob. Do you get, like, orgasm coupons? I thought I'd get a merit badge, but okay. I punch the ninth hole on the card. So I've actually recently gone back to watching old episodes of The Young Ones, and so right now

I was imagining Vivian doing that, and it's in character. It totally makes sense. Well, my fave is Donald Pleasence, so I... Totally. I think there needs to be a little bit more humiliation involved with Donald Pleasence.

Well, he's already Donald Pleasence. He was in Puma, man. You'll have to deal with the humiliation of being Donald Pleasence. I mean, just imagine rubbing his head the whole time is perfect. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyways. So, you know what I'm always turned on by? Tacos.

John, will you tell me a story about tacos? I do have the story for you then. Great. Imagine taking your fave to a cheap taco stand and having them stuff themselves to capacity. My fave is Seth Rogan, so done. That evening you both sleep in the same bed while messing around a bit

before you go to sleep. You can feel their hot bloated belly pressing against you as you cuddle and kiss. This is a weird departure for the man versus food franchise. I can see it more as a logical extension of it. Yeah. Eventually, your fave decides

they aren't feeling too well, and you both go to sleep. Okay, that's what you do. Later that night, you wake up to a peculiar smell. All right. The roller coaster is on the down. We're going down the hill.

We started with tacos. I can't imagine where this is going. I feel ready to scream. You can't see anything in the dark, but you realize what it is when you hear a booming fart. No. Doesn't weigh you.

As your eyes get used to the darkness, you can see your fave lying on their side, whimpering and holding their gurgling stomach, but still asleep. A muse, you decide to put your face next to their butt. Yeah, as one would do. Why? Why not imagine

that you decide that? Just the natural progression of things? Yeah. We're past imagining now. We're inside the video. Oh shit, it's like Nightmare on Elm Street. As they fart again, you can feel the hot rancid air blast into your face. Your fave moaning in relief.

After a few more bouts of gas, you suddenly notice a small bulge appearing against the backside of their underwear i don't know why i read that wrong it's like something was distracting me anyways realizing what is happening you briefly panic but before you wake them up you decide not to and watch what happens just turn off the panic button i guess okay you keep your eyes on the slowly moving bulge while they moan and whimper,

seemingly in more discomfort than before. Suddenly, with a crackle, a massive log slides out of their ass and into their underwear. Followed by a loud, wet fart. And then a massive load of muddy diarrhea. Wait a minute. I feel like you don't know

if this is a poop fetish fiction or a fart fetish fiction. Well, it's like how pornos have all these impositions. If you're going to go for it here, you might as well just do everything they might want. Yeah, as long as the imaginary creature agrees. Listen, you've got to appeal to all crowds. Some people are going to like big, loggy shits.

Some people are going to like diarrhea. Why not give gotta appeal to all crowds. Some people, they're gonna like big loggy shits. Some people are gonna like diarrhea. Why not give them both? No judgments? Come on, let's put on a show. A shit show. Startled. Well, that's the first thing that makes sense here. You sit back as you watch the thick mud slide

fill up their underwear and overflowing onto the bedsheets. Gas bubbles escaping now and then. What, are they actually shitting actual lava? Like, the consistency of the shit changes so much. It's really breaking the reality of the piece for me. As the flow comes to a stop, your fave wakes up. At first they are confused as to why you're awake, but then they realize what's happened and start crying. Sobbing and powerless, they're hit by the next wave of diarrhea.

Fiend. It ends on a cliffhanger. I thought this was going to end on a sad note. Like, oh, they feel bad about it. And then the second diarrhea flow happened, and I'm like, nope, this is a punchline. Pretty good. Oh, it's a romantic comedy. Okay.

What tags was this filed under? This was Imagine SF Kink. Imagine NSF Kink. Yeah, that would be weird if this was safe for work. Imagine NSF Submission. Submisson, rather. Sorry, Submisson.

Scat and Submission. Okay, I mean, Submission is a little bit, I mean, okay, rather. Sorry, submisson. Scat and submission. Okay, I mean, submission is a little bit... I mean, okay, whatever. Michelle, do you have a terrific story you want to share? Oh, do I? Yeah, I think you probably do. Oh, okay. Why do you sound trepidatious and afraid?

It's fine. No reason. Imagine your fave is unable to get out of bed or move in general. Oh, yeah! Sexy underscore sedentary dot com. So you decide to take care of them yourself, especially their personal hygiene. Every day you brush your fave's teeth,

lathering the inside of their mouth with toothpaste that it drips out to their chin, pushing down on their tongue to go in deep enough to trigger their gag reflex, as one does. Their short breaths become soft moans, their tongue moving against the rhythm of your brush

strokes, sucking it too. By now your fave's face is flushed, and their voice indicates that they really want to touch you to taste you, yet still unable to move. You push them back down and position yourself on top of their face and let them eat you out, tasting you mixed with the flavor of mint paste

still dripping down their nose. That is going to burn for so bad. Menthol! No. You know when they say four out of five dentists recommend? This is what the fifth dentist recommends. Well, fuck that guy. That's why they never include him in the commercial.

Right. The two most confusing words in this to me are let them. Let them. I don't know that personal determination has anything to do with that. Also, my favorite right now is Mr. Creosote from the Monty Python. That was very erotic to me. Bunny Bird, what do you have? Fear. Okay, that makes sense.

Justified. Kate, imagine your male fave alone in a public restroom. After doing his business, he shakes too many times, which soon leads to masturbation. Of course. All right, so a little bit of pee left on there let me just take care of it i'm just gonna keep doing this hello other person who came into the restroom check it out i've discovered masturbation this is awesome awesome. Man, this is amazing. Deciding not to leave until he finishes,

but also before anyone comes in, he becomes increasingly nervous the more time passes. I like that a lot, buddy bread. Can I get some bonus material? Yes, you may. Bonus! You were on a date with your favorite restaurant. By now, his dinner is cold and it's near closing time. Concerned, you check the restroom, Oh, nice.

Failing? Desperately. God damn it, won't I just cum? It seems you weren't the only one frustrated that he was taking so long. Now, Boots, will you help or watch him struggle? Come on, time's a-wasting. Oh, uh, see,

pros and cons. Well, I mean... Are you going to be humanitarian about it? Come on! Um, I'm a conscientious objector. Fucking goddammit! You know, the only thing that evil needs to win is for good men to not give handjobs.

When I saw the man in the urinal struggling desperately to ejaculate, I did nothing. All right. So I think this one, I think probably at this point we should all get Lumpy Space Princess in our heads. Okay, here we go. So imagine your fave gaining weight during their pregnancy. They were once pounds lighter and more slimmer.

But over time, they started to get bigger and bigger, but in the best type of way. Their thighs became so soft and fluffy, their tummies get round and full, and their skin becomes baby smooth and so

irresistible. Do you like how all of my pronouns are non-gender specific? That seems to be the case on everything we've read. I know, that's why we come to this blog. Imagine your male fave gaining weight during his pregnancy. Look, we're some lewd dudes.

But we're not cis dudes. We're lewd dudes, but we're genderless. Right, right. We're lewd dudes and dudettes. We're lewdette dudettes.'re genderless. Right, right. We're lewd dudes and dudettes. We're lewdette dudettes. That's probably the first time I've heard the word dudettes in like 20 years. Yep, you're welcome. Wasn't that rad?

It was tubular. So you've become so accustomed to your fave this way that their weight gain started to arouse you. Because that's how arousal works, becoming accustomed to it. And all you want is them to get bigger and super squishy. So you start feeding them their favorite meals. Anything they want, you get to put a smile on their face

because they're super cute and adorable. Just imagine your fave being pampered by you and wanting to be cuddled by you with their pregnancy weight gain. Isn't that great? Are you imagining it? Yeah. Sure.

Okay. You guys seem super despondent. Should we take a minute? Nah. I'm just browsing the tags. Uh-huh. Tags like what? Water sports.

Temperature play. Temperature play. Temperature play. Lingerie. Is that the Korean knockoff version of Coldplay girl

cannibalism that's a shitty joke that's the way I live my life that's a shitty joke and I really like it

horrible things cannibalism and one one tag is one tag is sex toys parentheses

all every last damn one cannibalism and one one tag is one tag is sex toys parentheses all every last damn one jam it in there that's exactly what it means by god your ass better be a bag of holding all right fine fine fine i i i. I know that we've read some of this document, and this document, by the way, provided to us from Positronic, a first-time submission for Positronic,

so thank you very much, and, you know, blame him slash her for this, but I know that this document Positronic provided a little bit gross. Not so far. And I'm sure that Positronic's sad about this and regrets it, and so do I.

And so because of that, we're going to do a nice story about a candlelit dinner. Oh, yeah. Will you give us a romantic story about a candlelit dinner? Oh, this will be nice. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm laughing for no reason. This will be comforting me. I just spent anniversary dinner last night.

Oh, that's nice. What did you do? We ordered it in Indian food. It was really good. It was nice. Okay. Well, you know, the real shame of this is that your anniversary came before this episode. Yeah.

This could probably give you some more news. Well, you know, there's only 364 days to go, so... Well, romance is what you make it. You know, you can have a special day. That's true. I'll have to put up with her at some point. Okay. Right.

Imagine your fave sitting with you for a candlelit dinner. Instead of bringing out the main course, however, your fave unbuttons their shirt with trembling hands to reveal a gory hole in the middle of their chest. Oh, okay. Sure, I'm still on board. This sounds great. Their beating heart is exposed to the cooled air,

the skin around the wound, Still to copy Zebrite's story. the skin around the wound oddly clean. Your copy Z Bright story. The skid around the wound, oddly clean. Your chef for the evening will be Eli Roth. As best they can, they touch their heart before grabbing it and pull it slowly from their chest. As best they can. The candles reflect off the wet surface

and you can see their heart pumping faster in tune with your own... Oh, two half-hearts. Your fave picks up a knife with one hand and begins to sever the blood vessels connecting their heart to their body. I've got a surgeon simulator 2014 fetish. You're not the only one. Then the physics bug out and the heart flies across the room. only one. Then the physics bug out and the heart flies across the room.

You can practically taste the sweet tang of salt and iron in the air as they tell you just how much they want to be a part of you. Laying their blood soaked hard on the white plate in front of them, they take the knife and carve off a piece of their flesh. Their blood drips from the knife as they spear the chunk of their heart and bring

it to your lips. It takes less than a second before the dizzying smell of your fave's meat overcomes you. You know, I've been imagining my fave this whole time, and this kind of seems a little out of character for Susie Orman. I just wanted financial advice. It doesn't seem out of character for my favorite Paula Deen. Get in my body, calories! Hey, who wants to have

some deep fried heart? Mine's already dead. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make love to my fried heart. Yeah, this is totally on par for Klaus Nobi, so... The flavor is amazing. You chew the meat to a pulp quickly and lick the blood from the knife after you swallow.

Okay. Seeing your hunger, the fave smiles and promises that they can feed you as much of their flesh as you want. Now, wouldn't the waiter at some point, like, come by and have an issue with this? Because at this point, I mean, you're bringing in outside food. And that's damaging to the restaurant. Like, sometimes, like, you can bring in your own bottle and then there's, like, a corking fee. Yeah, yeah. They would just charge you the corking fee in this case. Oh, okay. So that's fine. So, like, you know bring in your own bottle, and then there's, like, a corking fee. Yeah, yeah. They would just charge you the corking fee in this case.

Oh, okay. So that's fine. So, like, you know, they're just charging you for the stuff. You borrowed the knife, ma'am. Come on, give it back. Right, right, right. Okay. You know. This has been readings of crumpled pieces of paper from David Cronenberg's basement. So. No, it's too obvious. I like the gore,

but it's too much. Tell us, what do you have? I don't know. I'm sure I got something. Well, let's find out together. Eating a heart right out of someone's chest a bit. Good eating. I'm vamping. All right.

I remember now. What's that? Imagine your fave once waking up with their nipples erect for no reason and quite sensitive, so even slightest pressure or rubbing burns okay so do those clothes loose clothes sure it's the pregnancy thing again i don't whatever and your fave has to stay at home very uneasy about their problem yeah the nipples are pregnant yeah boss i'm sorry i got i got uh i got touchy nipples. What are we going to do, man? It turns for the worst, as in the course of day,

not only the nipples turn puffy and bright pink, but their breasts, too, swell and protrude, demanding touching. Yep. Klaus Kinski, no. Your fave can't do anything but grab them, squeeze, and pull them. Carefully examining their chest, you come across nipples that are so hard and strikingly resemble your miniature dicks that even the openings on top of them ooze some liquid. I'm surprised it's been so long and so many episodes that we've had to take to get to dick nipples.

Wait a minute. All right. No, take a break. Like, have we done this? Is this our first nipple dicks? This might actually be. Were there any of that Monster Girls episode? No.

There must have been. There were dicks and there were nipples, but I don't think they ever became the same. Congratulations, F+. We finally got to dick nipples! A banner just dropped behind us. Oh my god, what are this confetti comes out of? All of these ones don't shit.

So we still need to find shitting dick nipples. He's a jolly good dick nipple. Joe Biden, go to bed. Everybody take a break from this entirety of mmbop by Hanson. Alright, here we go. Exactly. Where was I? I have no idea.

As a reaction to your touches your fave is driven completely crazy and starts rubbing their hot breasts against your palms uncontrollably until they come in an unusual way yeah spurting loads of milk and crying from relief how's that unusual yeah i feel like this is probably a dream Woody Allen had. That he made into a reality someday. Like an unusual way would be like gummy worms at the ears. Wait, that's unusual? So the way that Positronic put this document together.

By the way, when this episode goes online, you should look at this document. Like if you're intending on submitting one, because like, this is a very well put together document, there's anchor links and everything but, what I would say is that like, is that there's no titles to any of these pieces and so, the titles were provided by Positronic

and I didn't pre-read that one but I knew that it was titled Nipples and I was like, well that's gonna be fucked up like, devoid of context, the word Nipples and I was like, well, that's going to be fucked up. Like, devoid of context, the word nipples isn't exciting but like, but knowing where the stories go. But this is the fucking internet, people. Come on. Bunny Bird, what do you have?

Nothing compared to shitting dick nipples, probably. Oh, come on. I bet it's special. You know, don't be hard on yourself. It just, it sucks. This ashtray that I made, it sucks.

I'm throwing it in the trash. Imagine running into your fave in a dark alley late at night. What? Why the fuck? What? What'd you say

about my goddamn ashtray? Okay, imagine running into your fave in a dark alley late at night with no one there but you two. They threaten you with an ashtray and then they push you against the wall and slice your throat.

That happens. You drop to your knees. Sharp ashtray. Pretty fucking sharp. You drop to your knees, choking on your blood, while your fave continues to stab you everywhere they can until you finally die. They later feed on your body. Took you fucking long enough, lazy. Die already.

They later feed on your body. You know, weirdly biting off chunks of meat from you. Making a mess of your blood and guts right there in the alley. Not caring if someone catches them. A new comedy starring the... Shit. Something cuts our film. I don't know.

Imagine you're the soldier in a zombie movie. He's like, I can take him on. Like, that's what we're imagining here, I guess. What's guru? Guru. Grow. G-R-O. Cannibalism.

Oh. Why'd they also say cannibalism? It's the Japanese word for jacking off to blood, basically. Oh, okay. Well, thanks, Vortex. Now that's in your head. Yay. Imagine that you wake up one morning,

and your fave is possessed by an alien spirit who wants to sample this dimension's plural cuisine. I mean, alien is confusing, but whatever. That's fine. They stumble around, mumbling nonsense and licking random things. That happens. These are stupid aliens.

It's me on a Saturday night. My fave is Katy Perry, I guess? Not a morning person. You carefully follow them and try to make sure they don't hurt your fave's body. You helpfully show

them the kitchen, hoping to distract them while you call a doctor or an exorcist. Ellipsis. Uh, uh, uh, excorcist. Excorcist. Excursionist. Meanwhile, your fave starts shoving things in their mouth. Whole eggs,

unpeeled bananas, paper towels. Was your fave possessed by a conehead? A specter from Dan Aykroyd's career has possessed my boyfriend. Once they figure out how to open packaging, they start getting creative.

Uncooked pasta with peanut butter and a whole garlic bulbs, raw chicken, and soap. Also, a large bowl filled with a mix of mayonnaise, soda, and cat food. We call that anime salsa. All the teaspoons and one fork,

erasers, a bottle of olive oil, and the juicer contents of the garbage can all go in their stomach. Also, I know what this author's kitchen looks like now. When you come back, you find them among the mess. The spirit has already left their body, and they are writhing in pain, their stomach dangerously swollen,

and their mouth bleeding as you rush over them and tell them it'll be okay. They vomit all over you. Yay! This was tagged with a metaphilia. Also stuffing. I clicked on that tag. There are a lot of things for that.

Sure, yeah. I would imagine puke fetish ups a lot. A lot of puke fucking. A lot of puke fucking on this site. I never metaphilia I did that. A lot of puke fucking in this site. I never met a feelie I did like. Nutshell, can you tell us a nice, straightforward,

just sort of sexy office romance story? Sure. Cool, thanks. Imagine your fave character reacting as you, their boss, show them their new workspace. It's a regular desk, much like any other, except for a long hole cut in the bottom of their chair, feeding into an empty, boxy container underneath. That's weird, but cool. This way, you don't need to break for the bathroom, you explain.

Oh, it makes sense now. Okay. But except for you have to clean the box, and that would actually be less efficient, but that's fine. Nope, nope. Somebody's going to eat what's in the box, and that would actually be less efficient, but that's fine. Nope, nope. Somebody's going to eat what's in the box, I bet. Oh, you might be right. I might.

Mmm. Sorry. I'm trying to get a hold of myself. It's sexy. It's sexy. It's sexy. It is. She's overwhelmed with sexiness. Working hour after hour, screaming more and more urgently until they have no choice but to unzip and shift their underwear, aiming for the hole.

Courtesy pee. Courtesy pee. The sound of their splattering piss echoes through the office, making their shoulders sink in embarrassment as everyone there knows exactly what they're doing, and wow, do they ever have to go. Their piss trail drops on and on against the bottom of the waste receptacle until their stream falls into a trickle, then a last spurting sprinkle. Imagine them looking right at you as they take a giant swig from the water bottle at their desk and dive into the next pipe. I regret telling my family that I did this podcast. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

Darling, who is Lemon and why does he hate you? Imagine your fave finding out that they read for a podcast that their family now knows about imagine them having to read something really gross so like again because i'm trying to i'm trying to follow the spirit of this thing uh so you started out and you were like you were like oh office and she's my employee i was like all right uh elizabeth moss from mad men and then it got gross i was like oh i'm sorry i just did that to you in my mind, Elizabeth Moss.

That was unkind of me. Well, wait, if the boss is Pete Campbell in this scenario, then that makes total sense. Oh, actually, yeah, that would balance out. You're a pretty girl. How about you shit in this box? I'm sorry. I think that was in season seven.

Boots, what did you just find? Oh, I found, you know, it's kind of a complicated one. Yeah, yeah. Try it. I've got to find the right sophisticated way. Imagine possessing your favorite character's body and then masturbating. Oh. Okay.

Done. Done. Done. You imagine that the person that wrote that is very proud of themselves. Like, yeah, I wrote 12 different pieces of fanfiction today. This is the Soulja Boy of the fanfic community. It's just hit after hit after hit, motherfucker! Yep.

Bunnybread, what do you have? Imagine your fight getting you drunk off your ass. Cool, alright. I mean, you're my fave off your ass. Cool. All right. I mean, you're my favorite bunny, Bren. Yep. And this has happened. Try to imagine this just for a second.

I mean, not with you in this fucked up voice, but yeah. You ain't got me drunk enough. All right, so imagine Stog. No. Okay, I got it. He's not wearing a shirt for some reason he's allergic to shirts hi there Boots

you can say my name I can't gouge out my mind's eye so there was a point there was a point where because we were doing F Plus Live and there was a point where Stock had his shirt off singing karaoke so I tweeted that picture and a little bit later I was like because we were doing F Plus Live, and then there was a point where Stog had his shirt off, singing karaoke.

So I tweeted that picture, and then a little bit later, I was like, I should just check and see. Oh, yeah, no, we lost about 20 followers after that tweet. Sorry, guys, I don't blame you, I guess. Look, we're in for the worst of the internet, but wow. Anyway, here we go. Imagine your fave getting you drunk off your ass.

They call you a pup and say that they're going to train you, then guide you into going down on them. That's what happens when people get drunk. This is the wrong frat to join, I think. It's alright until you accidentally puke all over their lap. They swear and jump up and yell at you. If you were cutting out the swearing, that would have offended my sensibilities. You're welcome.

You think that's it. They're going to leave. But then, they roughly scruff the back of your neck. They force your face into the mess on the surface where they've been sitting. They call you a bad pup and take you from behind

with fingers or cock. Keeping your face pressed into your own sick. But they fuck you. Excuse me. They F star star star you so expertly. What the fuck, Tumblr? Jesus Christ. They C star M despite the vital smell and your shame.

What? What? Fabulous. Jump con. Emetophilia. Pet play play Submission Alright Don't go to Dubcon

Whatever you do Never go to Dubcon It has nothing to do with E.E.M. I went one year The headache never went away Alright so John Toast I want to give you

A choice And you can Choose whichever one of these you like. All right? All right. All right. Option number one, collage one. Option number two, collage two. Wait. I was going to ask you to wait because I was digesting the first one.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now you've got the second one. Nope, nope. You've got to choose. Collage one or Collage 2? I'm going to go with Collage 2. Collage 2. Alright, cool. Collage 1 was so much better.

I've heard in the sequel they go to Collage. Well, you know, they had the budget by the sequel so they were able to kind of like carry the vision a little bit stronger. It's like Bay Pig in the City, really. I'm a really big fan of scrapbooking. Yeah, is it Wet Mount Collage or Dry Mount Collage? I think it's going to be Wet Mount, judging by what we've read so far.

I think you're right. Anyways, imagine you go to Collage, and your fave and you have a bet that you can't last one day with a vibrator inside you. And we don't make the bet because you're right? Now the rules are simple. Put a fucking vibrator in your day! Come on, stupid! The fuck, you never been to collage before?

The rules are simple. Go about your day without taking it out of you. During random points of the day, your fave will turn on the vibrator through a remote control, leaving you to squirm and try to stay silent. Okay. So, the first few hours you do pretty good. You usually sit at the back of the class anyways,

and your college, totally different from the collage we were visiting earlier, was pretty big. So, besides a few students getting annoyed at some whirring sound, it was sound it was okay can you imagine being in this class with this person oh fuck betsy and her boyfriend are doing that goddamn vibrator thing again why does she always have to sit next to me that is until you have to give a report in front of the class. Now, personally, you had forgotten all about this. So if that wasn't bad enough, your fave sure as hell didn't forget about it. Why did you forget about it?

Did you forget about the report or did you forget about the vibrator? I think it says a lot about the character we're playing that they didn't remember a presentation they were supposed to give, but they circled the date named Ass Vibrator Day. They were like, oh, I'm not going to forget this. Well, you've got to have priorities.

Random vibrations. Exactly. It puts it on a wonder list so that you get a reminder in the morning. Any.do. It's like, oh, I've got to make sure. Now, about three minutes into this train wreck of a report, it starts. So the report sucked before this?

Wow. Okay. A loud whirring sound fills the classroom as you suddenly as you're suddenly left to feel the max setting of the vibrator hit all your sweet spots inside you all your sweet spots like a pinball game in there within seconds you're gripping on the wall and covering your mouth to hide the whimpers tears of shame welling up in your eyes okay yeah you stagger out of the room awkwardly everyone staring at you in confusion and perhaps turned on a bit sure whatever moving on somehow you managed to make your way to the bathroom and let it finish you off in there instead of where everyone can see you.

Come on! You hide out there until class is over and make it through the rest of the day fine. But, oh boy, were you not going to let your fave get away with that? Okay, how am I going to... So you killed him with a vibrator? Find out in Collage 3 coming this summer. This time, it's collage-ity.

Hey, F+, how come the internet thinks that every vibrator that exists is remote-controlled? Because it is. We've never come in a situation where there's not a vibrator that is controlled by some sort of Bluetooth device somewhere. It's just weird. Noshet, what do you have? Let's see. I have a classic Dark and Stormy Night.

Okay, so this is going to be like those Snoopy cartoons, right? Okay, cool. Let's see if I can do a creepy old sailor voice. I don't know if I can or not. That's see if I can do a creepy old sailor voice. I don't know if I can or not. Well, that's probably a great idea to do it then. Yeah, I think that's kind of the only criteria.

Well, to be fair, if an old sailor had your voice right now, it would be pretty creepy. Her, imagine being inside during a stormy night, comfortably reading a book in your favorite chair, when something bang, bang, bangs on your door. Okay. Muttering to yourself about how late it is, you get up and peer through the peephole. You find your favorite character shivering and sopping wet, barely able to stand. You invite them in, and they nearly collapse on you, murmuring deliriously.

Ooh, that's nice. You half-drag them to the couch, letting them rest as you try to peel off their soaked clothes. I'm imagining Mr. Krabs from Spongebob Squarepants. I'm imagining myself. Upon removing their jacket, that their shirt is clinging to their stomach and that the buttons are about to pop off.

Yeah. What? Their favorite character's abdomen is horribly bloated, their shirt is clinging to their stomach and that the buttons are about to pop off. Their favorite character's abdomen is horribly bloated, hard to the touch, and occasionally rumbling with movement, prompting an exhausted, pained whine from the weary traveler. You don't know exactly what's wrong with them, but as you wrap them in a blanket

and get them some food, you assure them that they'll be safe with you. I don't think you can make that assurance. No, it's fine. I'm a pirate. It seems like you look away for two seconds and the food is gone. Your favorite character offers you one

smile of gratitude. When they immediately twist into a grimace as they slump onto their side, curling up into a tight ball under the blanket. You hesitantly rest your hand upon their shoulder, asking if there's anything you can do. They're about to respond when a loud, wet rumble cuts them off. Their entire body jerks and they cough violently,

trying desperately to get rid of the purple gooey substance filling their mouth. All you can do is rub their hair and try to comfort them, but you know that you have absolutely no idea what's happening or what's going to happen to them. Why?

But Violet was turning violet, Violet. Why did I imagine those things? The end! Why? It's like this weird like this hurt comfort. Oh my god. Okay, I'm just gonna move on. I'm just gonna move on. Here we go.

Imagine your favorite Aiden barfed up grimace. Rubble rubble. Alright. So I want Aiden barfed up Grimace. Rubble, rubble. All right. So I want you all to imagine the Cure song, The Forest. Right? My jaws. My jaws.

Right, exactly. It's Friday. I'm a forest. My throat hurts now. Maybe I'm thinking the wrong one. So imagine your favorite character. In this case, we're going to go with Robert Smith. Imagine your favorite character staggering through a forest,

holding their stomach tightly in a vain attempt to keep their guts from spilling out of the nasty gash across their stomach. I think we have a theme here. Robert Smith, no! Mike Jones, yes! Did Susie Sue do this to you? I like Buddy Brett's version. I'm Mike Jones.

I'm bleeding from my chest. I'm Mike Jones. I'm bleeding from my chest. I'm Mike Jones. Look at my guts. My number's 972. Okay. They lose their footing from a sudden shooting pain, toppling to the ground. Their senses are dull, but even they can tell the feeling of their own intestines twirled around their blood-soaked fingers.

Okay, so we're imagining, but we're in their head? Yeah. I know that's the least of what I should be focusing on that's weird here, but I don't get what these are written for. Imagine NSFW, whoa, does not clarify gender, nor does it clarify the perspective of your story. So you can write it first-person perspective from Robert Smith's perspective. It's fine. Who fucking cares?

Absolutely. Who gives a shit? As long as you don't capitalize words, you're cool. Yeah. That's Tumblr. Okay, so... Also, I find it weird that like the one sensation that he's feeling is not like his fucking stomach gashed open but the intestines like twirled around his fingers like that's the sensation that holds anyway a weak laugh a weak laugh escapes their

lips as they sit their souls upright upright. The realization washing over them that trying to stave off death is useless at that point. Their body hands, their bloody hand reaches down What? Why? Okay. Their bloody hand reaches down towards their pants.

They got lube on their hands, fuck it. Hey, now we need to listen to this because this is important. Rob Smith. The only thing I can think about is that thing I discovered in the urinal a while ago. Right, right, right. Their bloody hand reaches down towards their pants, deciding that since it's obvious no one's going to save them,

they might as well rub one last one out. Yeah. Rob Smith. Even as the slippery flesh of their intestines rubs against their skin, makes the bile rise in their throat. Raw smooth. Again, priorities. As their fingers stroke their groin for what seems obviously the last time,

the thoughts reel back over time. Both good and bad. Silly and sincere. However, it's a survival technique. If you push all the blood there, it can't spill out your hole. You're keeping up. Boots has been in this situation way too many times. It's how I'm still alive. He's a survivor.

He thinks on his feet and on his dick. Bonus points if you have a cock ring around for a tourniquet However One face sticks in their mind Yours Rob Smith I honestly don't know how to Aw that's so sweet Yeah I know

Rob Smith That joke gets funnier every time Bunnybread You're welcome Rob Smith. That joke gets funnier every time, Bunny Bread. You're welcome. All the memories the two of you have shared flood at them as they drive themselves closer to their climax. Even as their consciousness begins to fade, their thoughts are solely of you.

They let out a pained grunt as they climax. The strain on their body too much and their entire body goes limp. Their eyes slowly drift shut, hoarsely murmuring your sweet name one last time as they succumb to their wounds.

This is the worst guided meditation tape I have ever listened to. Really, because it's the best one I've heard. The most upbeat, to. Really, because it's the best one I've heard. Yeah. The most upbeat, certainly. Yeah. Robert Smith is like, after a collab with Blink-182,

it's like, well, fuck you. Sapuku and Jerkin' Off. Did that happen? Yeah. Wow. Why would Toast joke about that? Look it up. I will.

That's the most depressing thing I've heard so far today. And you just read about a guy jerking off all his stuff. Right, yeah. Man. There you go. Like, what a, like, because, you know, there's plenty of times where we'll read something and it's like, wow, you're fucking, like, fucked up or whatever. But, like, that is such an insane version of narcissism

that it's impossible for a not horrible human being to write that. Like, I want you to jerk off and then die thinking of me. Hey, Tumblr, I know you won't like to hear this, but you need to hear this, or at least the people on Tumblr that are like this. Some fantasies are bad. Some of them are not good. Some of them should be encouraged your kink i'm shaming it i'm shaming your kink right now when your kink is a guy jerking off while his guts are literally

falling out of his chest because he likes you so much and him coming right as he died yeah yeah yeah i'm shaming you fucking do that again I'll call you the pronoun that you were born under. Ha ha! The worst. I think if you do that three times, then they just disappear off of smoke.

He, he, he! I'm out of here! All right. Yeah, Boots, I think this is yours. Good. Yay. Oh, this is the one

titled Squirmy. Squirmy. Yeah. All right. Imagine your fave being squirmy and whiny in your lap. Okay. Begging for you to suckle them. On it.

No, their guts spill out. You've spoiled them with regular milkings. Now, if they don't get their breasts drained by your warm mouth, promptly on their milking schedule, they practically fall apart, whimpering and moaning as they knead their overfall chest. I mean, spoiling is... I mean, could go in a...

Okay, yeah. They refuse to pump manually, and if you aren't available to service them, they let the milk build up until they're ready to burst, and every shirt they own is stained with the milk, leaking constantly from them. Okay, so like, is that what those nutrition supplements

do? Like the weight gain powder? This is why Dr. Oz went to court. When I said it was magic, I was just using a euphemistic term! They shove their weeping breasts in your face,

whining, pitiful, until you have mercy on them to drain them fully. Imagine this person slapping the other person in the face with them. Just like, whoop! I like that the breast is sad about this, too. I'm a sad breast. Boo, boo, boo, boo. Makes it nice to have balloons rubbed together.

Nutshell. Yes? I know you've been a little scared, or trepidatious about the pieces that we've had here, so I'm going to give you options, okay? Oh, goody, I love it when you give me options. Right, yeah, so this will work out cool. Yeah, so you can avoid the bad ones. Right, all you've got to do.

Now, I've got to say. Surely, if I examine them long enough, I can avoid the bad ones. Right. Now, I gotta say... Surely, if I examine them long enough, I'll pick the right one. I'm gonna give you two choices, and I gotta say, as a warning, one of them's gonna be gross. But not both? And the other one might be? I didn't say that second part.

Okay, there we go. That's it. Here we go. Where are my options? Option number one, long post about enemas. Okay. Now, wait. Okay. Two could be worse. Option number two, long post about stuffing.

I'll take stuffing. I've really had enough of things, butt things, so I'm hoping that stuffing is maybe... Like Thanksgiving? Yeah, nobody stuffs things in butts. Or teddy bears. Yeah, I think maybe you're fine. Let's see how it goes. It's a prequel to the animal one. It's about going to a Build-A-Bear with your fave, right?

Yeah, just like that. As though that couldn't get creepy. All right. Imagine taking your fave to buffet where you watch as they work their way through more than a few plates of food. As you leave, you sneak peeks at their bloated stomach. It's rounded and stuff-taught

with everything they crammed in. And the middle of their t-shirt looks much tighter than before. You place a hand on their tummy experimentally, marveling at how warm and full it feels. And they blush when you tell them how cute they look like this. How cute they look. Wait, middle? Like, that's a weird...

Where's their stomach? Coming out of their sternum? Yeah. Alright. Your fave sits down heavily on the couch when you get home and unbuttons the straining button around their waist. A butt... Oh, never mind. They let out a breath

they'd no doubt been holding and cradled their guts stifling a burp. And then they put their hand in their pants and the audience cheers and then they flush the toilet. Yeah, pretty much. I don't have to keep on reading now, right? The dog sits there in a voiceover.

Oh, yeah. they do it all without really noticing you're there but of course this all has you out of your mind and you ask them if they wouldn't like to lie down so you can rub their stomach as you kneel alongside them and gently pull up their shirt they close their eyes and sigh softly the first touch of your hand on their belly it seems larger now than when it was inhibited by their pants it's hard to the touch aching and tight but you know the softness that you love so much is still there as well okay sure you allow yourself to imagine for a moment how hot your fave will look after they've digested every plate they consume tonight though they won't get a lot of weight from just one meal like this, it'll make their stomach, butt, and thighs just a little larger,

more jiggly, and soft to the touch. Wow, so this is like a delayed gratification fetish. Like a big old bag of hot tapioca pudding. You notice your fave is breathing heavily as you massage their gut, and their cheeks are curiously flushed. You trace your hand down to the curve of their lower belly, marked with the fading indentations of their waistband, and ask them innocently what the matter is.

Hey, baby, what's wrong? Shit, I lost my place. You were at the gross part. Oh, goddammit! Notchelle, did you pick the gross one? Gross! Notchelle, that's fucked up. I still think that the enema one would have been worse.

This is on you This is nothing quite new to either of you But you relish it every time The moments spent in inquiry Before their expected but no less shameful confession Your fave asks you Blushing and quiet If you could move your massage a bit lower perhaps

And if you wouldn't mind using Both your hands Which you do in fact Honey, I know this is a weird request and if you wouldn't mind using both your hands. Honey, honey, I know this is a weird request, us being together and all, but could you rub my genitals? I just, you know, just crazy notion here. Baby, can you touch my junk? Which you do enthusiastically.

Those are my marriage vows. Of course. Electing your previously unused hand to rest on top of their stomach, you tenderly move your lower belly massage even further down. They jerk slightly at that first touch, pressing a hand to their mouth to stifle a few moans. You know it won't take long for them, as they're already aroused from your touches and eating so much in the first place.

Just for fun, you do something... Oh, goody. I can't wait. When they say just for fun, I know it's going to be something wonderful. Yeah, like, oh man, I like the fact that you're jerking my cock, but also that bagel sandwich I had. Oh, no, no. We're doing some dirty talk now.

Ooh, all right. Just for fun, you do something that usually makes them finish quicker. Do you know how much you ate back there? Can you ask? Maybe it's as close to their heated face as you can manage. Can you feel how totally stuffed you are? You look so full. Their moans grow louder

when you know this one quickly, but you can't help it. It's just so cute teasing them like this. Hey, in a nutshell, this is hot, but if you could be hotter by being that pirate voice again, I'd enjoy it.

No, no. You ate so much, so shamelessly, it didn't get you hot, it scourged yourself like that? Arr, it did. Arr! You start running your hand along the very top of their stomach as lightly as you can.

Wait, so is this in dialogue two, then? Wait, wait, no, no. Just that one bit. Don't make it ubiquitous and useless. I got over- Jesus! Come on! Lemon, everybody knows the dialogue is described in writing

by putting it in italics. Oh, right. That's how every book I've read does it. Spoilers, I've never read a book. Tumblr, the book. Steal my lines. That's what they are. And it's the final push they need to orgasm,

panting and bringing their own hand down to touch their belly. So at that point he like knocked my hand out. Fuck it, I got this. God, useless. Let me jerk it. What I love about that though is that because they're making such pains to make it non-gender specific that like

even like stimulating the genitals can't say what genitals they are oh you push down a hand and massage female or male genitals you continue working until you do that thing you like to their specific genitals you reach down and you know you do that thing great she's done me full of food, and then she's going to take my virginity. I like how Joseph is ordering genitals through the fast food menu. Would you like penis or vagina? No, I just wanted a small vanilla soft serve.

Vagina coming up. All right. Coming down to the end here, John Toast, I think you get another choice. All right. Would you like to read a long post about movies, or would you like to read a long post about wildlife preservation? Pick the one about shit. I'll go with wildlife preservation. All right.

That's probably the closest to ship Alright Imagine your favorite character being A like a Rookie wildlife preserver There's a small species of animal That's now in danger due to the many years Of migration slash disappearance

Of other species Which this animal laid its eggs in Laid it eggs and so the reanimated corpse of steve irwin all right i got it cool that's great your f your favorite character is wandering around this animal's habitat unknowingly during its mating season when it crawls out from hiding slow and weak from carrying eggs trying to find a suitable host to lay eggs and oh with this fucking eggs don't have any way to put them. Jesus Christ.

Lugging them around all day. It's your worst voice and consistently one of my favorites. That's what I do. I like it. Can you tell I've only been to New York for three days? Yes! Can you tell I've only been to New York for three days?

Yes! Yes! Your favorite character sits down and interacts with creature... With creature. Interact with creature. Thinking it's injured and gives it some food and pets it when it comes closer. God, you're a shit wildlife preservation. Oh, hey, this creature we don't know much about. Here, let me just give it food and whatever.

Okay, so the creature starts moving around your favorite character's body, tickling them when suddenly a tentacle starts making its way down their pants. Oh, now it's pervy. Of course. Because of course it does. Caught off guard,

your favorite character gasps and looks to see what's happening. The creature slowly motioned his body over a leg, and your FC feels all the eggs. They had to do away in stain tentacles. This story is making me feel all the eggs. Making all of them.

I don't know how you people are always losing your place. You're on Tumblr, the most clearly laid out website in the world. Okay. They realize what the creature's intent is place. You're on Tumblr, the most clearly laid out website in the world. Okay, they realize what the creature's intent is and turn bright red and becomes aroused by the idea of being a host

for the eggs to safely develop in. Okay. Trying to reason with themselves that it's a perverted idea and they should feel ashamed for it, the extant status of the creature pops into their mind. A convenient loophole! a shame for it, the extant status of the creature pops into their mind. It's like, is it

A convenient loophole! Oh! Is it like emotionally damaging to like write the creature well? Like I get the gender thing, but like creature and the creature with the tentacles and the eggs, I guess? That's the only important thing

about it, is the tentacles and the eggs. I think these Sarah McLoughlin commercials are going too far wait I don't know what they're trying to sell now in the feelers of an angel hesitantly mothering to themselves and the creature that this is beneficial to the creature's survival and their duty they began removing their trousers

and they pack up Keep telling yourself that, creature molester. Wait, are the creatures removing their trousers? Yes, everybody has trousers. Petting the creature as it waits to see what's happening. In a waistcoat. Your favorite character

spreads their legs and invites the creature into their ass-slash-vagina. Whatever. Whatever they got. All the while being bright as a tomato. The creature moves over to the hole. Does that mean they're stupid? Is that like dumb as a rock, bright as a tomato? Yeah, bright as a tomato. Considering their actions, yeah.

Now the creature moves over to the hole your FC is stretching open. So they're stretching open the hole of themselves, all of their being. Wow, how very, like, chakra-ish. And is stretching open the whole of themselves all of their being wow how very like chakra-ish and stretching open and inspects it brushing up against your f's your favorite character's sensitive areas they gasp the creature begins oozing slime from its whole body and quickly inserts a tentacle they gasp as they can feel the creature entering inside them slowly pushing their insides this is great after a minute, the creature is fully inside and makes its way, makes it

way deeper inside your favorite character. They groan pleasurably and begin jerking slash rubbing themselves. The egg is rubbing against your FC insides as the creature moves. Feels incredible. What? Do I have to keep

this? Okay. What? I had to read the whole thing. i had to read the whole thing you have all right i'm going for it fine fine all right yeah all right the grown puzzle let me get a rub and joy okay um as a creature moves the eggs rubbing along your favorite characters inside as a creature moves feels incredible eventually the creature makes its way deep inside uh deep enough to where it feels the eggs will be safe and begins laying the eggs. This goes on for what feels like hours and your favorite character gets pushed closer and closer to the limit. Their belly

they're belling. They're belling, bulging a bit from both the creature's presence and now the eggs. The creature finally finishes laying all of the eggs and after covering them with a protective and nutritive coat of ooze, makes its way out.

And then the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles come out? Sure. That's the secret. Your favorite character comes hardly. That's disappointing. Did he come hardly? Are you coming hard or hardly coming, huh? Monday, am I right?

coming huh monday am i right as the creature exits with a plop sound right panting and feeling their gut they feel immensely satisfied both for sexual reasons and conservation okay the reason i was hesitating, because I was hesitating before because I thought this was just going to be straight porn with no funny, but it paid off. Yeah, dragged in the middle, but ended terrific.

You know, if you can come for sexual reasons, fine, but if you can come for conservation reasons, whoa, that's the real pleasure. It's nice because we get to picture all this narrated by David Attenborough. The man comes for conservation reasons and sexual reasons. And he is the creature.

Painting. The creature passes over them once more, one more, eating your favorite characters come before it runs back and hiding. Like donuts under a bridge. Painting, your favorite character puts their pants back on and finds a soft place to take a nap. Their last thought before entering sleep is that they'll be

having to document the pregnancy and look into conservation efforts for the species. Perhaps bring these findings up to their co-workers. That's going to be an awkward meeting with National Geographic, I will tell you what. So, I was just going to videotape these guys. Guess what happened? The spur of the moment.

The evolutionary imperative is very confusing now. Jesus. Wow. Okay. Yeah. What's what's bunny bread? Bunny bread. Bunny bread.

Wow, okay. What's Bunny Bread? Bunny Bread, I can only take one more piece from anyone, from anyone in this podcast. I'm only able to hear one more piece. And I got to say, I need to be impressed. So I'm going to give you one sentence to impress me. Well, imagine you and your fave are as you are now.

In separate universes, you completely believe in your fave is only fictional. But then imagine one night you wake up in the middle of the night and you're not in your room at all. You're somewhere fantastical. An abandoned five-star hotel from the 1800s. Or an extraterrestrial jungle with white plants shimmering with a mother of pearl sheen under triple moons. Imagine the most incredible and beautiful world you can. And you're not alone. As you wake and pick yourself up from the ground, you see another body stirring. It's your fave, dressed in her own sleep clothes and looking must and beautiful.

You hurry over and help her to their feet. Whatever the hell. This is the best dream ever. You remember a lot of drinking in the sight of your fave. Here and tangible. As gorgeous as the setting sun around them. A dream, huh? They say, looking around.

Must be! You tell them. What? They agree, but neither of you discuss whose dream it must be. You decide to explore together. Picking apart this beautiful world you find yourselves in. Imagine this exhilaration of discovering your own private world. Of the nooks and crannies you uncover on all the little surprises.

Hidden caves. Fantastical creatures. Treasure troves of gems and old books. It's just the two of you in your own little dream. So your lips find each other in one of those little hideaways. You moan into each other's mouths. You know, enjoying the touches against your skin, the thrill of physicality.

This was written by Richard Garriott, wasn't it? Yeah. Imagine stealing kisses in every shadow. You find yourselves in, giggling and delighting in the magic of this dream. Imagine as the kisses turn heavier, as your fave sucks at your neck and leaves little bites all along your collar. Imagine grinding into each other and fumbling at chests

and asses. All of them. You got like 40 of them. Imagine clothes coming off and Oh god, I'm so confused. Imagine clothes coming off and rolling together in the moonlight. Imagine shuddering breaths and panting in beautiful laughter. Imagine coming together and imagine falling asleep curled up around each other, still completely

nude and perfectly at peace in your own little world. Hey, wait, that was normal human sexual interaction. What the fuck, Tumblr? Strike that last part. Imagine waking up in your own bed and thinking that was the best dream you've had in ages. But then, imagine getting up and going to take a shower. Yeah, this must be fantasy. And when you pull your shirt off, you look down and see the unmistakable marks of your fave left all over your body.

It wasn't a dream at all. Hey! Imagine the next time you wake up in your own private world, side by side with your fave, dot, dot, dot! Imagine! Imagine that you dreamt that you ate a giant marshmallow, and when you woke up, your pillow was gone! Imagine that every time you masturbated to Benedict Cumberbatch, you were actually fucking him. Says 30% of the internet. Man, man, after he stopped doing commercials, the Micro Machines guy went really nuts. I'm just setting it on a street corner.

Thank you for listening. He's got to take the work where he can find it. It's true. You had to Google that name, right? Yeah. Okay. Actually, I didn't. I didn't actually.

I knew his name. I had to Google if he was alive. So, what did we learn from any of this? Jack Chick. I learned. Sorry, go right ahead. Jack Chick? Yeah, you learned Jack Chick.

I learned all about Jack Chick. He's my fave. Okay. Oh, no. I learned that some people on the internet need other people to make up masturbation fantasies for them, apparently. Yeah, that's pretty sad. I would jerk off, but man, I'm kind of lacking in inspiration.

Imagine if you had this thing... Imagine if you imagined this thing that you have a fetish for then like well then why didn't why do you need someone else to do okay internet i want to masturbate you start like i get okay i kind of get i mean it's usually dumb but i kind of get fan fiction it's like not everybody can write a story and as we've seen not everybody can write in english at all so they want someone else to write you know benedict cumberbatch fucking dog benedict cumberbatch sure lots of people wrote that so they want yeah they do but this is just a stepper mood it's like imagine jerking off to the thing you like it's like why do i need you why does anybody need this i don't get it people gotta

tumble i feel like there's there's two things that there's two things that uh that struck me about this particular episode the first is that um the confines of this blog um necessarily force every writer into sucking. Because, like, because... I don't think they need the help. Well, yeah, but even if they didn't, they would. Because, like, because it's not heterocentric, because it's not homocentric, because it's gender neutral,

like, everyone has to be, like, there and they. And it's impossible to write a story when your pronouns are wrong. Like, that's... so there's no shot. Like, no one's got any shot at all of writing something that makes any sense. And then the other thing is, like, okay, so yeah, so, you know, like, people like, you know, people like Positronic will go through and put together a document, and, you know, they'll find weirder stuff necessarily.

We understand. But like, but I'm going through these and every one of these is, while not maybe as interesting as this, still on par. And it's so baffling to me that there's just hit after hit after hit after hit after hit of like, hey, you know that thing you like? Imagine it suffering. Yeah. I guess some people are into that. Like, yeah, hey, you like that TV show? Watch it burn.

On that note, I learned something. What's that? I learned that there was an important one that we didn't read during the main part of the episode that I'm going to read now. Okay, good. Oh, okay. Oh, bonus.

Imagine painting swirly patterns on your fave's face and chest with the bodily fluid of your choice. Sexual fluids, waste, good. Oh, okay. Oh, bonus. Imagine painting swirly patterns on your fave's face and chest with the bodily fluid of your choice. Sexual fluids, waste, blood. Theirs or yours, as you prefer. So, Annie Sprinkle? Yeah, Annie Sprinkle. Mrs. Dash? Wet Mrs. Dash, I guess?

Oh, yeah, that MSD all over your face, baby. The website is always thefbl.us, and if MST all over your face, baby. Uh, the website is always T H E F P L dot U S. And if you want to watch people suffer, you should do it over at ball pits. That's B L P dot I T. Uh, a couple of things I want to mention. Uh,

we got t-shirts, uh, by the time you listen to this, we still should have t-shirts. Um, so, you know, you can do that.

Uh, also the stickers. Um, I, the other day, I, uh, dole sent me a graph of, Also, the stickers. The other day, Dole sent me a graph of the wrongest words used over time, because

his system will track every time a game has started and every time a game has ended. And that graph is depressing! So, you know, hosting's free when the thing comes up for domain again. You know, whatever.

But if you're looking for the latest people who have been fired in San Francisco, firings.xyz. You're welcome. Yeah. Okay, bye-bye. Bye. Bye. Bye.

Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye.

Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye.

Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye.

Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye.

Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye for you. I do it for you. I do it for you. I do it for you. I do it for you. I do it for you. I do it for you. We actually probably should have read the... It should have been at the beginning of the document. The words for and from the mod.

Okay. Where it says, I literally made this blog because I was tired of the lack of scat slash water sports slash generally weird style stuff that wasn't just taken as a joke. By all means, poop stuff is absolutely welcome.