Wednesday 17 September 2014

And they all lived happily ever after ... Cunta Kinte's fate ...

And they all lived happily ever after ...

'MORE SALT, CUNTA! You deaf twat.'
            'Ain't no need to holler, baass. My head ain't stuffed with cotton-fluff and buttoned-up-the-back. Stupid, dumb-ass fuck.'
            'I 'eard that. Don't go givin' me any of your lip, you scurvy cyclops! One should always be rememberin' one's roots.' The captain scratched the place where his left foot used to be and gazed at the now cauterised stump.
            Cunta blinked his only eye and sucked on his bottom lip. 'Sweet, sweet meat,' he sang softly as he stirred the bubbling pot of meat stew - the meat being the captain's left foot. They'd eaten every scrap of food, from crew to Cunta's goat, Petunia. Now, it was either foot, or Cunta's cock and Captain Tiny had other plans for that particular member.
            ''Ere,' said the Captain, scrunching up his eyes against the incandescence of the sun, 'Magine me using me last shot on that fuckin' albatross, Cunta. I just dunno what came over me. It shittin' on me lucky wig were the last straw. Now look at us.' He licked a finger and held it aloft. 'Not a breath. 'ow am I ever gonna get to the Virgin Islands and lose me cherry?'
            Cunta rolled his eyes pondering on the many possible reactions his Captain may experience at the news that the Virgin Islands were not swarming with eager virgin girls desperate to wrap their plump, glossy lips around his tiny little todger. But, were instead, inhabited by sabre-toothed cannibals with an insatiable penchant for fatty white meat, which is why Cunta, having drugged the captain with a potent cocktail of goji-berry juice, rum and piss in equal measure (as retribution for downing his good eye like an oyster), switched course to a rather exotic sounding country called France, where he intended to sell his Baass to the circus and head off to make his fortune as a gigolo to the rich and famous pigmy goats of gay Parie.
            'Don't worry, Baass. Dem virgins is gonna luuuuuve you.'
            The Captain flicked a glance at the foot-long penis whipped to Cunta's thigh. He smiled, crooked and devious. 
*
With a belly full of meat - the captain's horny toenails adding an extra croutony-crunch to the victuals - and head hazy with rum, Cunta drifted into an abyss-like sleep. Captain Tiny hoppy-cum-pranced along the galley. Just to make doubly sure that his Man Friday slept soundly, he walloped him several times about the head with the heaviest object aboard ship - the brass latrine pot his mama and papa had given him on achieving his captaincy .   
                 'Now to put my life's research to the test! Mwaha! Mwahahahahahaha!' Late into the night, the captain snipped and clipped, trimmed and stripped. With the finest of gossamer threads and the most delicate of stitches, he sewed sinew to sinew, vein to vein, nerve to nerve without disruption. 'If I can make Rodney the rat's todger bigger than mine, there's 'ope for me yet.'  By dawn, his work was done and his transformation from paltry in the britches department to being hung like a donkey, was complete. The stew had an extra mouthful or two of gristle in it and Cunta was now eunoched.
            Numbed by brandy and blood loss, the captain clobbered Cunta another couple of times over the head before passing out on deck, too weary even to play with his new best friend.
*
Three days later, the pungent whiff of garlic farts blasted the captain from strange dreams of goats and squishy, over-ripe watermelons into the land of consciousness. 'Cunta, get your stinkin' arse outta me face.' But the captain's Man Friday was no-where to be seen. Above him stood a fat man wearing an oversized red-onion necklace.
            ''Ey! Monsieur, bienvenue a Toulon!'
            The captain struggled to his foot. 'Stand aside, my good man,' he said in his rehearsed Queen's English, 'and point me in the direction of them lovely virgins gaggin' for me loins. 'ic.'
            'Alors. Anglais?' The fat man hawked. Bubbling green gunk merged with Cunta's blood on the deck. 'Hahaha! Virgins? You Anglais make zee best jokes. Zee whorehouse is at zee end of zee jetty.'
            The captain minced lopsidedly down the gangplank with only two thoughts. Firstly, the unfurling bulge in his britches, swiftly followed by the looks on the virgins' faces when they clapped eyes on his magnificence.
             The smell of the Toulon whorehouse, when it hit the captain's senses, compared only to the sweaty stench of a mollusc's ball-sack, but nothing could stop him.
            'Yoohoo, ladies! Come to Papa!' he called through the doorway of what he assumed was the brothel, the only hint being the words 'Get your end away here - NO FREEBIES' scrawled on the wall.
            A semi-naked pensioner wearing a bad wig popped up from beneath a counter inside. 'Twenty Francs, Mister. No kissin' on zee lips, you hear?'
            PPffffft. The straining in the Captain's groin deflated. 'I'm not shagging you, you wizened old 'ag! Look at your tits! I've seen perkier fucking ciabattas!'
            'Not me, you stupid merde tete! Zee new girl. She's young and firm. You'll like her, I feel it in my water.'
            'That's more like it, 'ag. Lead the way!'
            'Up zee stairs. Allez. First door on zee left.'
            Captain Tiny leapt up the stairs, crashing through the door, britches round his ankles. 'Ooh, girlie, are you in for a special treat! Agggggggghhhhhhh!'
            Cunta lay on the bed, legs akimbo, with a squirrel skin draped over the place where his manhood once was.
            'Baass! You've made  me the happiest slave in the whole world! I always dreamed of having a pussy!'
            The captain stood agog. 'Where's me fuckin' virgin, Cunta?'
            A winning smile spread over Cunta's lips. He flapped a hand at the captain's flaccid member. 'That thing don't work for virgins, baass. Only goats.'
*
The captain promptly swapped the sea for land, his wig for a flat cap and his ship for a cute little goat farm in the Pyrenees. Cunta on the other hand, fled to Mon M'artre where he became the muse of Van Gough. And we all know what happened to him.
            

The Begining's End - And we think wasps are pointless little creatures

1
The Beginning's End

'Come! Come, my putrefied bedfellows!' cries Beelzebub from the maggot-infested pits of hell. 'Come and feast your eyes on a true abomination!'
            'What is it, oh repugnant one?' A gnarled claw reaches out to protect eyeless sockets from a flash of blinding light.
            'That nitwit God is up to his high-jinx sorcery ... again. Won't he ever learn that evil  will always prevail?' Beelzebub strokes a curled talon across his brimstone horn, sending sparks dancing. 'It is only you, Hector, who comes when I command?'
            Under a shower of shimmering rainbows, Hector's charred feet tappety-tap-tap across glowing coals as he scuttles to his master's side. 'The others, sire, I fear, are more interested in imbibing fire-water at The Grim Reaper's Palace.'
            'Is that so, my cankerous little bag of pus? I SHALL DAMN THEM ALL TO HELL!'
            'Um, Sire, I think you'll find that you have already.'
            'Yes, yes. Hector. What if they knew that The Reaper's fire-water is a reduction of his very own piss? It might not be quite so quaffable, eh, Hector? But what is this monstrous creation? It hangs above us like that blasted Polaris, casting its filthy light into every crevasse. And what is that I see on it? It's not ...'
            'It is, sire!' Hector's cackle of glee rattles through the burned bones of his ribs. 'It's them humans. They're so - so gullible!'
            'In the name of festering pustules, God is an even bigger numbskull than I thought.'
            'Shall I fetch Bert and Betsie? Oh do let's, Great Lord of Putridness, I could greatly do with a laugh.'
            Beelzebub shifts from hoof to hoof. 'Dragons are sooooo last season, Hector! Unleash Edna. Let's see how his minions fare against the most iniquitous of beasts.'
            'Sire, you are too cruel! The evilness of Edna is unsurpassed! Mwwwwahahaha!'
                                                                        *
'Wreak havoc and mayhem, my beauty. Bring death and destruction. Annihilate this monstrosity and you shall be rewarded with as much caterpillar blood as you can drink.' 
            'Bzzzzzzzz.' Edna's wings whine through the ether as she flies upwards, the lancet of her stinger glinting in its glorious sharpness.
                                                                        *
'Sire, pray tell how Edna progresses?'
            'Well, well, my pernicious parasite. I see the fairer sex, woman, a naked woman hur-hur bar a fig leaf over her whatsits. Eve is her name. She is darting this way and that with her hands in the air - running in circles, I tell you! Edna is in hot pursuit, stinger at the ready. The woman's mate is joining in now. A man, Adam - not much in the way of nether regions. I've seen bigger worms wriggling out of your weeping flesh. He is swatting and swiping at Edna with his hands and yet she persists in the chase. Oh, oh, she's going in ... BULLSEYE! Right on Eve's arse cheek! Now the woman is making water with her eyes. Adam is plucking a strange looking fruit from a bush, he is giving it to Eve. She's smiling as she takes a great big bite...'
                                                                        *         
A thrum fills the pits of hell.
            'Sire is that Edna returned? Surely her work is not done already? One miserable, teeny, weeny, piss-ant little sting?'
            Beelzebub smiles. 'Hector, you have much to learn. These humans, you see, in no time at all, will destroy their world and everything in it. It has already begun. Who said wasps were pointless creatures? Isn't that right, Edna?'

            'Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.'

Cinderella's take on the Fat Slags - Princess of Porn

Princess of Porn



'Oh, holy Jesus!' Cinderella stood on the spot jiggling her 44 double D's and wiggling her space-station arse. 'Call yourself a fucking Fairy Godmother? I said, 'make me SKINNY,' not make me SHIMMY, you deaf twat!'
                That'll teach you, you cheap little slut. 'Oh, Cinders, I'm so sorry, my little cherub of-'
                'Shut up, hag! Pray let me stop? I-I beg of you! I so need to sit!'
                The Fairy Godmother nodded. 'Of course you do, my sweet sugar plum.' That Syrup of Figs doesn't half do the trick! She swirled an 'S' in the air with her wand, showering sparkles of magical incandescence over Cinderella.
                'Not the sparkles! Not the fucking sparkles, PLEEEEE-?' Cinderella stopped shimmying. She sucked in her cheeks, turned the colour of borsht and promptly shat her g-string. 'Damn you, you familiar of Beelzebub! And that pernicious dust of yours! I can't bear the twinkling sight of it! Oh, how will I ever get to shag Prince Charming looking like an incontinent rhino?'
                FAG - Fairy Anne Godmother sighed. 'Cinders, my little-'
                'You and that half-wit dust! I'm ruined! If the Prince's dick isn't saluting me before midnight, I'm doomed to a life of Rampant Rabbits, cucumbers and ketchup bottles! Althooough, I do admit the Rabbit is rather good ... especially that new flicky-tongue function...'
                Fat lard-ass slag. Why did I have to get lumbered with you, you overly-sexed hump-back? Like what prince is gonna give you one? 'Hush, my little marshmallow. You must learn to trust the dust.'
                'Trust the dust? You must be fucking joking! I say 'slim' it makes me dim -'
                Ha! You did that all by yourself, fat-so. 'You must take control of the dust, flower. Be its master. Ditch the rhymes. The prince will be yours.' May you not grind his bones into flour.
                Cinderella tried to frown, but her fat-cells refused to wrinkle.  'OK, cobweb-crutch.' She focused every ounce of energy on the mantra, I must, I must, I must control the dust. Within moments, a shifting ball of glitter circled above her head.
                FAG smiled.
                'Dust. I COMMAND YOU. Make me slender and beautiful!' Rhyme that, fucker!
                Cinders rose into a shimmering cyclone.
*
Cinderella's glass slippers hovered above the floor - so light-afoot! She opened her eyes and Prince Charming stood naked and glorious before her.
                'DUST! I command you, MAKE IT BIGGER!