Where it happened: A Whale carcass
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
So I was like, sitting in my living room watching Spongebob, you know? Shooting junk and eating corn puffs while jacking off to Spongebob and Patrick dry-humping each other when the phone rings. I pick it up and I’m like “How now? A rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!” and dude on the other end is like “Hey baby, wanna come place your ATP in my Electron Transport Chain” and so of course I want to get my 14 inch long, .1 inch thick cock wet with the salivations of a random stranger so I said when and where and the voice at the other end said in a very Bob Saget like fashion “Get thee to a nunnery”. I walked down the street through a nightmare with my young, adolescent head filled with a grown man’s drug and I watched the large phallic trees fuck the sweet, flowery pussies of the brush and I finally found myself at a dock. I looked over at McMurphy and the blonde stumbling upon the boat with the other patients; Billy Bibbit shivering and glancing at the loafers by the shop. I decided it was now time to snort my Pixie Sticks and so I pulled out Black Francis’ chode, sucked it with the force of an acorn and forced his chilled mocha semen up my nostrils. Then I jumped up into the air with a triumphant “YEEYEEYEEYEEYEEYEEYEE!” and I dove into the water and swam as hard as I could until I finally reached the bottom of the ocean, where there was a dead whale sitting next to the Octopus’ Garden and some young boys from Liverpool roaming around shooting dope with Bob Dylan, who was smoking from an transluscent hookah. He turned to me and said “Is this where it is?” and then somebody points to me and says “It’s his!” and I said “What’s mine?” and the Whale said “Where what is?” and Dylan said “Oh my God, am I here all alone?”. I guess there was something happening there, but I don’t know what it is. So I walked over to the Whale and climbed into his blowhole and I found myself in a groovy pad covered in pink shag carpet, lava lamps, and disco balls. There was a circular bed in the center of the Whale’s swinging carcass and it was there that I met the voice on the phone. It was none other than David Bowie, who was wearing a leather gimp suit and was chained to Marc Bolan from T. Rex whom was now a dead corpse beaten to incapacitation by David Bowie’s monster cock. I strolled on over to Bowie and in my best Mrs. Doubtfire impersonation I said to him “Would you like some coffee or some enema’s for your rectum?” and David Bowie just said “Is there life on Mars?”. He used his Jedi powers and pulled me over to him where he forced his tongue down my throat. He tasted like cough medicine and cocaine. Yummy. I ran my hand down his leather suit and forcibly inserted my fist into his tight asshole and start punching his kidneys from the inside as he moaned into my mouth with pleasure. I took my switch blade that I got from De Niro on the set of “The Deer Hunter” and I carved an ancient Sumerian hieroglyph into his back and licked clean his blood, which was actually red wine. I ripped off his leather suit and revealed his snow white tan, along with his perfectly shaped, 13 inch cock. I took it in my mouth and forced it down my throat while David Bowie sang Viennese operas and forced a pineapple up my ass. Then I took a hammer, beat him in the temple until blood poured out of his eye sockets, and fucked him in the eye into cum oozed out of his ears. Then he looked at me and said “There’s a starman, waiting in the sky, he’d like to come and meet us but he thinks he’d blow our minds.” Yes. Yes he will Bowie. Thank you for letting me fuck your brain.
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