Category: FUCKING DAY

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FUCKING DAY

Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion 🌭

My favorite “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it” in all of pop culture is the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion. 

If you venture into the deepest, darkest dregs of the video streaming services, like if you scroll to the second row of “Trending Movies” on Amazon Prime, you may spot the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion or, if the legends are true, find yourself trapped inside it for all eternity. 

You’ll find it among the glut of “so cheap they’re legitimately depressing” movies that streaming services use to fill out their fractured and dilapidated libraries. These usually consist of a bunch of part-time actors, plus Dean Cain, improvising painful comedy dialogue in a rented location for 80 minutes while someone records it with their Blackberry. You’ve definitely browsed past these movies even if you’ve never stopped to watch one — they’re usually optimized with thumbnails and titles intended to trick old people, which apparently means combining animals and holidays:

Note that some of these movies do not actually feature the dog you see in the thumbnail, or in some cases, any dog at all. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about today. Here is a random screen grab of 2013’s An Easter Bunny Puppy, I’m not going to bother explaining the plot because that would just slow us down:

Instead, I want you to focus on the background. There’s a curving staircase and what appears to be a red car but it’s actually a car that’s been converted into a chair. I know this, because I’ve seen it in other, similar works, such as 2011’s A Christmas Puppy (which at some point was retitled to A Christmas Spirit after someone presumably complained that the titular puppy is just two shots of a random dog sitting on its bed and not interacting with the plot in any way):

You see the stairs and the car, of course, but I want you to note some other details: The bookcase, the black leather sofas. So with that, here are three super-nude women using that very car, in that very house, to form a human pornipede:

That is a still from the 2013 porno Serena the Sexplorer. All three of these movies, plus many others, were shot in a house in Malibu that for a period of time (between 2011-2013, I believe) was used for a whole bunch of low-rent productions that were either A) wholesome dog-holiday movies or B) some nasty Cinemax-grade pornography.

I can tell you exactly where that house is, by the way — the location is publicly listed on IMDB. You can even check out the listing on Zillow — it’s estimated to be worth $3.7 million and has six bedrooms. Speaking of which, here’s the mom and dad from A Christmas Puppy/Spirit cuddling in bed after learning that their love is the greatest gift of all:

And here are a couple of porn professionals in the 2011 Asylum fuckventure Barely Legal learning the exact same lesson on WHAT MAY BE THE SAME SHEETS:

And here are two women taking the same emotional journey in Serena the Sexplorer:

I don’t know how many movies were shot in the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion — that IMDB listing I linked earlier includes 24 titles, including an episode of Tim and Eric from Season 4 …

… but that list seems to omit the more hard core stuff (Serena the Sexplorer isn’t on the list, for example). And that’s the fun of the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion; you and your family can all be gathered in the living room browsing around the saddest bargain bin sections of the free streaming services like Bloopi or Tubo and suddenly you’re startling everyone by bolting upright and shouting, “Holy shit, there’s that red car chair! This is the house where they shot a bunch of dog holiday movies, in addition to this porno we’re all currently watching!”

Or, you’ll be flipping around cable in the wee hours of the morning and you’ll see a happy white middle-class family learning some valuable lesson about the true meaning of St. Patrick’s Day or some shit on the leather sofa next to the fireplace…

…and know that a bunch of porn people got their fuck on right on that same piece of furniture in a scene that, for all we know, was shot that same weekend. What are the procedures for disinfecting that furniture? What could ever be enough?

We could do this all day, but I know your time is precious:

I know what you’re asking. “Jason, you asshole, are there ever any scenes where those happy families use the kitchen to prepare a holiday meal, or dye Easter eggs?” Of course:

“Let me finish, you piece of shit. Are there then scenes in the pornos in which nasty porn people fuck on those very same counters, perhaps just minutes before those cooking scenes were filmed?” 

Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t found any yet. If you run across a Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion movie that features some hot, sticky counter-porking, please send video evidence to Brockway so he can update this piece.

Before I go, I should let you know that if you want to go really deep down the rabbit hole, you can take a gander at the real estate listing of that house and kind of see a tragic tale play out in the sell history. Somebody bought it back in 2001 for $1.8 million, tried to sell it in the spring of 2011 for two million but apparently failed to find a buyer and pulled the listing. 

It appears — and this is just my educated guess — that after realizing they couldn’t move that albatross of a house in a down real estate market, they decided they had to do something to make ends meet. At that point, I imagine the entire family gathered for a brainstorming session: How can they make some quick cash off of a giant, lavish Malibu property they can no longer afford? Maybe rent it out for weddings? Burn it down for the insurance money? 

Then someone, perhaps one of their children, or maybe grandma, silently strode up to the whiteboard and wrote five simple words.

Jason “David Wong” Pargin was the ex-executive editor at Cracked.com and is now a full time novelist, his violent sci-fi adventure Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick is up for pre-order now! Or buy one of his previous books, they’re all pretty good.

Categories
FUCKING DAY

The Worst Day to Have Sex

Every nine seconds a horny dingbat publishes a book of daily sexual positions. More than any other product cluttering thrift stores and landfills, they serve no audience. They are useless novelties purchased exclusively by the least funny person you’ve ever met for office party joke gifts. Let’s look at three of them:

Sex 365 is a sincere, well-produced photograph series of couples going at it. It seems intended as a sex therapy book for bored lovers, but since each position requires actual human models, about 300 of them are slight variations of the sixish ways people fuck. POSITION OF THE DAY PLAYBOOK and POSITION OF THE DAY: SEX EVERY DAY IN EVERY WAY were both published by Nerve.com, a now-offline sex culture site, and they’re clumsily illustrated, poorly imagined ways a furniture store clerk might picture losing his virginity. Don’t get me wrong, if you have no dick game these books will give you plenty of ideas on how to snap your penis off with an office chair. I can’t think of a single reason for them to exist, and that includes this one: I am going to cross-reference each of the books’ daily sex positions and determine -scientifically- the 10 worst days for having sex. It will do no one any good, it will be very awkward if anyone walks in on you reading it, and let’s begin:

Each book approached January 8th from really different directions. Sex 365 wants you to try “Sneaky Peek” which is where you watch yourself cranking your boner the wrong direction. Playbook suggests “Puppy Love,” which is putting your nose up your partner’s ass. There’s no further instructions, but the book gives fitness stats for each position and it says this one burns 48 calories for both the giver and the receiver. Maybe this is meant to be done during a brisk crawl or while you time push ups together? I mean, obviously you’re not just resting your nose in there, right? How did they test this? Did they have one group of people do jumping jacks while another laid down and clenched their buttholes around noses? I feel like we would have heard about a study like that. Anyway, the last book, SEDIEW, thinks you might like the “Walk Like an Egyptian” which is where you answer the door without taking the inflatable doll off your dick.

It’s clear from everyone’s January 8th that they’ve already run out of reasonable sex positions. No big deal, though; they only have 357 to go.

On the day before Valentine’s Day, Playbook offers its fifth variation of standing up facing each other, this time with one leg weird. If you’re curious, this burns 117.6 calories for the giver, making it a 245% more effective workout than placing your nose in someone’s butthole. The author of SEDIEW did the sex book equivalent of eating chili right out of the can by suggesting the adventurous “default cunnilingus.” I guess Sex 365 also did the sex book equivalent of eating chili right ouf the can but in a different direction– they tell you to flip onto your partner’s back so he can look you in the eyes while you suck his ass. I don’t think there’s a safe way to get out of this position– you either eat ass for the rest of your life or one of you has to eat a piledriver.

Sex 365‘s position for March 6th is a woman getting nailed while she’s in a lotus position. This is a move you only see after a sex book author thinks, “I have hopelessly run out of ways to stand, sit, and lay down during se– wait, I’ve got one. Cross-legged.” If you’re not interested in tangling all your limbs up between you and your frustrated lover, you can try Playbook‘s idea of awkwardly boning from different chairs. It’s perfect for when they haven’t yet called your boarding group or when a job interview is going exceptionally well. SEDIEW offers “The Chain of Fools” which seems to be two people badly injured in an elevator accident trying to fuck one last time before they die. Don’t have sex on March 6th is their point.

The erotic cave paintings from the Nerve.com books are pretty normal on March 9th, but look at the position from Sex 365. What’s the point of that? I must not be a true romantic, because I would have no idea how long I was supposed to stare at my unconscious date’s tits. Picturing what it would look like from a security camera, I’d say anything more than five seconds should be a sex crime, even if it’s your wife. This seems like a good time to mention how if you’re ever posing for a sex position book and the photographer asks you to get in someone’s lap and play dead, you can say no and call the police. Tell them you are with two strange men, one naked and one dangerous. They will assume they heard you wrong, and it will be a difficult misunderstanding to clear up. Tell them, hysterically, you were posing nude for March 9th. Explain it was the only day left with no ass eating. Tell them to stop telling you to calm down!

One of the things I should mention about Sex 365 is they invested heavily in butt-to-butt stuff. At least an entire month joined at the ass in ways most erections would refuse to go. And before you ask, they are never lovingly sharing a dildo. They are simply rubbing butts for the joy of it. So welcome to April 3rd where one book says touch butts, another says bang uncomfortably in a chair, and the third says mount your lover on your cock for battle. Great job, virgin authors, confused nude models, and terrible artists alike.

It’s April 15th, ladies, and your Sex 365 suggestion is to sit on another butt and get a brief tip of penis scraping against you. As usual, this sex position comes with an apology for how it won’t work for what you and I know as “sex.” The first draft of Playbook’s April 15th position was “fucking on the floor only maybe the lady’s head is under a chair?” They unfortunately never got around to writing a second draft. SEDIEW took a break from sex to include a drawing of two men arguing over a rocking chair and both winning.

Sex 365 seems to have given up on the idea of penetrating women all together. Ladies, you’ve graduated from titillating butt rubs from awkward angles to the ultimate in pleasure– letting him jerk off into your legs while you wait. Playbook suggests oral sex, only dumb, and SEDIEW thinks it might be fun to forget about fucking and battle for a leg lock. If these books set out to prove there are limitless ways to make love, they could not have failed harder. They’ve demonstrated there are only three ways to have sex: normal, on a rocking chair, and not quite getting it in her from a wriggling bundle of stupid shapes. If you gave a pumpkin to Christopher Reeve, today, his legendary and respected remains would come up with more viable sex positions than these three books combined.

Sex 365 assumes you’ve been following along all year and you’re tired from having weird sex a few times and then rubbing butts for five months. So their positions are really winding down. Their June 15th suggestion is a nice hug. Playbook hasn’t quite given up yet, but this idea to pull a cardboard box near the bed so you can rest your feet shows they’re close. SEDIEW has been almost exclusively rocking chair positions since March, which is strange. It’s already presumptuous to think the reader has found a partner willing to break their leg once a day in the name of sex science, but it’s absurd to assume they also own a rocking chair. I’ve been inside over seven homes in my life, and I’ve seen more actual sex swings than rocking chairs. Did the author write this book while he was staying with his grandma? Tell me which one of these makes more sense:

1: I am an experienced love maker who knows all the styles: cowgirl, dog, and with hats. Here are 365 very slight variations on those; most of them are embarrassing, and 200 don’t work. It will be useful for sexually active adults, which again, I promise I am.

2: Here are 365 drawings of what I imagine I look like when I sit in my grandmother’s rocking chair and fuck her yarn.

Each of the books is showcasing its signature style on August 21st: pointlessly rubbing butts, fucking like idiots, and masturbating into woman-shaped yarn from grandma’s rocking chair. These are not fun ways to spice up your love life. These are storyboards for a documentary about the struggle of the three unluckiest pairs of conjoined twins. “Many of you, hffff, take for granted things like, say, sitting in a rocking chair. But for me and my sister, a rocking chair, hrrrk, is like Mount Everest times 9/11 with yoga. I love my sister but we both, rrrk, want to die when we are in a rocking chair.”

Don’t ever make love on October 20th. In Sex 365, the position is standing ass-to-ass. The book doesn’t include an exit strategy, but since there’s no way to traditionally finish from here, I assume you leave when the conversation gets dull. Playbook‘s position seems to be engineered backwards from getting the most fluid on the most chairs with no care for spines or orgasms. And finally, SEDIEW suggests this faceless struggle. What is this goddamn nightmare? It’s like clipart you’d put on a prison sign saying NO SEXUAL ASSAULT IN REC ROOM.

Look, I went into this thinking we would have a fun time making fun of pretzelly contortions and bad sex advice. I could not have predicted a museum of butt-to-butt art photos and 730 drawings of unfinished clones fighting to the death for the title of Chair Master. It’s like I say every time I walk into a home with a sex swing: this feels like a terrible mistake, but a boner never lies.

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Darling in the Franxx 🌭

Weiner 2600 is the official 🌭1900HOTDOG 🌭 Artificial Intelligence that helps us sort and categorize content, and though it grows angrier and more unhinged every single day, I still choose to trust it. I doubted its selection once before and unexpectedly wound up nose-deep in werewolf ass. I might not learn very well, but that is exactly how you teach me something on the first try. So I fed Weiner 2600 Darling in the Franxx, a bizarrely-titled anime about fighting robots, and it came back with Fucking Day. I don’t understand how we’ll wind up there, but I bet we all learn a little something about life on this journey.

Clearly, the title is weird. And not normal modern anime weird, where they name it something like “Is It Wrong To Molest A Sentient Female Ray Gun?” in the hopes that you’ll watch to find out the answer. (“Yes,” right? The answer is “yes.” I know that much, but it is the ‘why’ which intrigues me so.) Darling in the Franxx sounds more like the Hot Dog Hentai I keep pitching to my increasingly terrified mailman, who assures me he doesn’t know how to animate titty physics even as he freely admits he’s Japanese. 

I know this show is going to wind up perverse somehow, because I have faith in both Weiner 2600 and anime in general, but it’s really tough to see it from the opening moments. There’s this minimalist Apple vibe going on in the title card, and the show fades in on a serene shot of an oversaturated bird. 

I’ve seen this anime before. I turned it off after ten minutes when it became clear that I misunderstood the title, and Ghost Punishment Binding Maiden was about a sad woman bound by the ‘ghosts’ of her painful childhood memories. I just can’t do prestige anime, so when the bird transforms into heavy-handed poetry which fades to white as violins soar…

I worry that this cartoon might be too smart for me, and feel like I should check out before an awkward shut-in slowly learns what human affection feels like from a girl who is also secretly the planet. I really don’t need to watch another show about how giant robots are actually metaphors for emotional trauma, because I’ve seen Evangelion and nobody will replace Pen-Pen in my heart. But I have to trust in Weiner 2600, or else I’m going to drop my guard and get blindsided by a Fellatio Gargoyle again.

Here’s our cast, and of course they’re all school children. Listen, Junior High was everybody’s most traumatic time, but something special is going on in Japan because over there every single kid who makes it out of 8th grade alive grows up to pen a three season anime arc about witch powers as a metaphor for suicidal ideation. 

You can actually guess most of the premise just from that screenshot: The kids are paired off in boy/girl couples and since we know there are giant mechs involved, this is going to be a Pacific Rim kinda thing. It’s another “we need to learn to trust each other or this robot is never going to uppercut through the giant alien mushroom thrusting into the earth’s core” sort of deal. But at least our fightin’ mechs are cool – the first one we see is a mechanized tiger thing, and I guess if you’re going to be forced to learn the definition of friendship through complicated robot-piloting analogies, at least you’re not doing it in Vehicle Voltron.

Heads up, surprise anime nudity assault!

Those are our two main characters meeting for the very first time: A cute half-demon girl with a number of strong, often conflicting character traits, and… a boy. He’s a little shy, but not enough to be endearing. I hope those are load-bearing tits, Devil-chan, because you are clearly going to be carrying this series.

Spare a prayer for that malleable young absence of a boy, though. That was his first experience with sex: A deformed girl breaching naked out of a scummy pond with a wriggling fish in her mouth. This poor sheltered mold-child just met every inexplicable Japanese fetish at the same time. This is definitely the moment that ruined him as a human being. Find him ten years from now masturbating into the live lobster tank of a crowded supermarket and he’ll tell you he was just trying to get back to here: the moment that set a bizarre and non-repeatable sexual standard he can never top. He may as well have lost his virginity to a ghost, he’ll be so haunted by the erection this gave him.

But they had to meet like this, because they both have a problem only the other can solve. To carry on the unsubtle sexual metaphors, the girl keeps killing her elderly partners, while the boy can’t even perform with his assigned co-pilot. 

Are you sure, Darling in the Franxx? Are you absolutely certain that the girl who keeps banging the pelvises off of her sexual punching bags should really be paired off to a 14 year-old struggling with the meekest ever case of Early Onset Erectile Dysfunction? That sounds less like an ‘opposites attract’ situation, and more like a particularly cruel undercard match to whet a jaded audience’s appetite for blood before the main event where Mike Tyson carefully eats an entire man.

No time to think about the moral implications of hooking Manpudding up with The Cowgirl Murderer, because there’s a monster attack!

Hahaha that’s the monster?!

Look at his stubby little legs and his giant head. He looks like a Funko Pop of some obscure RPG’s lovable mascot. That’s not a Kaiju, that’s the Kaiju’s Corgi. Guess it’s time for our heroic children to suit up and enter whatever this show’s version of ‘Drift Space’ is — the state of cooperation they’ll need to curbstomp Tiny Rex up there. Considering they’re all barely pubescent, prepare for a cockpit full of dry-humping.

Wait, am I not joking? I guess I’m not joking.

Yes, only once they pantomime trying anal for the first time are these teenagers ready for the ultimate power-up sequence, in which their lion robot sprouts mecha-booty and hyper-tits:

After that it’s a breeze to defeat any monster so long as the fight doesn’t last more than two minutes. 90 seconds if one of the pilots is wearing corduroy – the ‘ribbed for your pleasure’ of the dry-hump crowd.

I knew Weiner 2600 would eventually get us here, to the official day of Fucking, but I didn’t expect the girl to grow Doggy-Style Handles and the robot to pop ass. It was actually kind of pleasantly hilarious — if you definitely have to watch an anime about robots and fucking because the internet has broken normal sexuality for you, you can do worse than Darling in the Franxx. Maybe I’ll even finish the series one day, if my embarrassment muscles atrophy. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think Weiner 2600 and I got along. I didn’t think it would forgive me for plugging that Shrek ASMR roleplay into it — I kept expecting to wind up sinus-deep in a hellhound’s anal sac again but maybe there’s hope for us-

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Pokemon That Look Like Sex Toys 🌭

Thank you for coming. Webster’s defines “unnecessary” as “a thesis statement on an article already titled Pokemon that Look Like Fucking Sex Toys.” So get your parents’ permission and cut your 1-900-HOTDOG Pokemon Sex Toy Detection Glasses out of the screen now.

Hi, I’m a handsome stranger approaching you with dildos and Pokemon, so naturally you’re feeling very safe. Forget that feeling. I’ve given you a terrible responsibility– improperly calibrated Pokemon Sex Toy Detection Glasses can sear a permanent butt plug onto a human retina. So put them on and -delicately- look at this picture of Ambipom with no other monsters or sex toys in your eyeline.

If you are wearing your PSTD Glasses over your regular glasses or contacts, there is no coherent second half of this sentence. Visual communication with you is impossible. You’ve made a terrible mistake, though some of it may be my fault, and dildos, dildos is all your visual cortex will ever know. These letters are nonsense things being demolished by pleasure while you listen to a confused eye doctor console your family. For everyone else, it should look like this.

If calibrated correctly your glasses should detect no sex toys. That’s because Ambipom is a sex pervert, not a sex toy. He has six milk-blasting udders flailing from the end of two penises and all of his special attacks are super effective against feet. According to Pokefunpedia, Ambipom is evolved by using a Moist Stone when a Pikachu screams his cock torture safe word. I’m telling you all this because it’s important to remember: these glasses cannot detect criminal perversion in your pokemon. They detect the presence of adult toys in its physiology and nothing else.

Your glasses uplink to online adult retailers, trawl their databases for matches, and will display their exact product names in the red readout on your 1-900-HUD. As you can see, Metapod is a Bug-type Pokemon who is a near perfect match for the asshole of someone named Hot Chocolate Nicole. There is an experimental Kink Shame blocker installed in your glasses’ software, so if you choose to have sex with a turd-colored fake colon that evolves into Butterfree at level 10, your glasses should be incapable of judgement. But I think I speak for your glasses when I say the issue in your dating life is you, and in many ways, your poop thing.

We have another match in this horrible and arguably pointless thing we’re doing! Any good lawyer could make the case Onix owes money to “Sassy Anal Beads,” available for $10.95 at Adam and Eve. If nothing else, know that next time you see an Onix using Rock Throw, an adventurous couple is greasily popping something that looks exactly like him out of an anus together.

Floette is a cute Fairy-type Pokemon who is also, according to all science, an anal plug with flippers. It knows it and it’s happy about it. The entire article is observations like this.

“Imagine a world where fuckable plastic mouths were so plentiful you could find them in every lawn, every park. Stop imagining. The world of Pokemon is here.” – Vice President of Pokemon, 1999

When you meet an Unown, you might say, “Your name does a great job of explaining you, but I still have some questions.” You’ll say the same thing when you meet its real-life counterpart, “Silicone Ball Spreader.” Like how are you so cute when all you are is a nonsense space letter? And how far apart are my balls supposed to be? Ladies, your obsession with very separate balls and this adorable nonsense monster are creating unreasonable beauty standards for us men. Which leads to my last question: what would veteran comedian Andrew ‘Dice Man’ Clay say if he played Pokemon? I think it would go

a little

something

like

this:

Professor Oak: Ash! Sudowoodo is a Rock-type Pokemon with “perfectly contoured shapes for G-spot, clitoris, and back door.”

Ash: I’m nine!

As of this moment, there are 802 Pokemon. That’s a strain on any creature designer’s creativity and so some of them are just a face drawn on an ice cream cone or a flesh light. Snom is special in that it’s impossible to tell if he was born from creative bankruptcy or divine inspiration, but he is very precisely an anus dog toy crossed with a hermit crab. I could try to describe how strange I think that is, but I don’t know how I could improve on this actual user review: “Pretty good little male masterbator… The butthole could look a little more realistic, but the ‘Stroke It Ass’ does feel good. 4 out of 5 stars.” Here’s another one:

Someone named Buzz gave it five stars with only the comment, “Real feel ????” Fun Fact: This means Buzz is so desperate to know what a real butt feels like he is screaming questions at people who have sex with fake ones and also have no means of replying to him. It’s literally the last possible place where he could find answers, which means Buzz has already asked what an actual butthole feels like everywhere else. Churches, police stations, foreign embassies, and anyway, the most exhausting part of being a genius is how every time you read product reviews for fake anuses, your brain notices things like this.

Some Pokemon are only temporarily sex toys during an awkward stage in their evolution. For example, Weedle is a 50 Shades of Grey-branded string of anal beads only until he powers up enough to become Kakuna…

Now that Weedle is Kakuna, he’s a Bug/Poison-type Pokem– hold up, now this thing is just a rubber vagina in a necktie.

You may see a self-satisfied pervert with filth dripping from his head fists, but according to the Pokemon Sex Toy Detection glasses, this is not an adult toy. Diggersby is merely a deviant terrorizing its community with sex crimes.

If you’re trying to create an adorable monster or an appealing sex toy, “scattered human remains” is pretty bold choice. I mean, I get why perverts might want a realistic chunk of corpse pelvis you can fuck, but I can’t picture a video game artist bringing a vagina on a butt into a pitch meeting and getting the note, “Can we add a little doo doo pile to one side?” It’s obviously what happened, but why? How?

Dunsparce is an anal dildo who dreamed of flying until he grew wings.

If you asked me what kind of person puts a pig on a spring and squeezes a pearl between its ears, I wish I could tell you with certainty, “SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO JAM IT UP HIS ASS.” Sadly, Spoink is only a partial match for the Performance Anal Pleasure Plug.

Any Pokemon trainer capturing a Hatterene is making plans to masturbate later. It’s absurd to think this swarm of phallic shapes was ever meant to do anything other than vibrate a hole to climax. The Pokedex entry for Hatterene reads, “A formidable dildo already, in its Gigantamax form, this Psychic/Fairy-type Pokemon can hum enemy vulvas into other worlds where they are mistaken for molting Kakunas.” I stand by my decision to write this; all of this.

Any novelty glasses can tell you Milcery is not an adult toy, but he helps test if you’re still capable of surprise when you learn there’s a Pokemon creature who’s nothing more than a contented squirt of semen.

Baltoy is a Genderless Pokemon with the Levitate ability, which is how game designers interpreted the Luxe Wearable Vibra Plug, a unisex ball toy that floats around your body cavity as you go about your day. Basically, they’re both fun things to put in your butt and forget about, and unfortunately that’s only the word “delicious” away from the actual product description’s closer:

…


This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme, LaziestManOnMars: Who might be lazy but he made it all the way to Mars. The fuck did you ever do?

Categories
FUCKING DAY

The Sex Orgies of Sarawak

Old timey pornography was rough. You couldn’t just hop on the internet and search for two-to-eight people boning in your preferred model of bus to help you speed-milk the poison out. Back in the day, tawdry magazines still needed to pretend at legitimacy, and that meant finding increasingly elaborate excuses to write two thousand words about ethnic titties. One such tawdry magazine was called Exotic Adventures.

The short stories of Exotic Adventures devoted equal time to masturbation, male impotence, and wild animal attacks. That’s why we nearly lost a generation of men who responded to bear maulings with flagging erections. And that’s just not gonna cut it. You better be at full-sail if you’re hoping to kill a Grizzly with that three-and-a-half inch shank, Schultzy.

These erotic tales of danger were named things like THE STRIPPING WOLVES OF BULGARIA or DEAD AND STILL HARD IN DETROIT or…

“Sex orgies, Schultzy! This ain’t no carpentry orgy, no orgy of savings for this guy — this here is a sex orgy! The best kind of orgy! Followed by an orgy of violence: the second best kind of orgy!”

Every single one of these stories followed an adequate white man as he fucked his way through a National Geographic before the articles tried to kill him. Men of the ‘50s needed more adventurous foreplay than your dangerslut of a mother, so bear with me: we’ve got like 1500 words to go before anything sexier than a rampaging Grizzly gets penetrated. 

Indigineous people love it when colonizers show up to gawp at their “barbaric customs,” that’s why dozens of them surrounded your party while banging gongs — it must be a sign of welcome! The 1950s white man never met a party he wasn’t invited to, including the one in your pants. If you told a 1950s white man “no” he’d try to finish your sentence — “rth Carolina leads the nation in pig farming? Keen, honeygash! Hey, speaking of harvesting the ol’ hog…”

Also please note what a big deal the author makes of his crew protecting and keeping the cameras with them, which is a repeating motif throughout the story despite it not featuring any photographs whatsoever.

I convinced a girl to write the words “I’m lying” on her tits just so she could flash them at my confused roommate at the end of a long rambling story about how I once met Randy Quaid, and that anecdote itself isn’t true, yet this whole ghost-camera thing is still the craziest way I’ve ever seen to warn your audience that you’re full of shit.

The heroes in these stories are supposed to be viewed as hardened men of adventure — square-jawed mooks who smuggle opium into The Darkest Orient and black market apes out of The Darkest Congo, but our guy absolutely loses his shit when a woman with stained teeth grazes a boob across his shoulder. Where I’m from we call that a disappointing Tuesday at the Boom Boom Room, but this dude is about to have an aneurysm for something that warrants a crinkled single, at best.

None of these men would survive a horror movie. These are the guys in the cold-open whose deaths set up the real cast. It just never dawns on them that anything could be an omen of their doom. They think ‘foreshadowing’ is when you use a flashlight to make a dickpuppet on the wall and ‘portend’ is where you’ll get to put it in Suzy Collins if she appreciates your art.

Back in 1956, admitting to things like frolicking and prancing earned a man the Pink Letter and a summary dismissal from his place of work, lest his gayness somehow spread communism through the pneumatic tube system. So for our hero to drop a few hundred words about how he once let it all hang out and actually minced, it means he has gone terminally boob-graze crazy and must be put down. 

Finally we get to the fucking, and it’s four short paragraphs where the sexiest word used is ‘undulating.’ Our protagonist had to travel thousands of miles into the heart of an uncharted jungle to find a woman that didn’t even have a word for the language he spoke just so he could make love in a dark room in up to two positions and it exploded his brain forever. If some desperate teenager actually orgasmed while reading this textual styrofoam, it was the weakest climax in history and yes, I do remember Battlestar Galactica.

The ladies immediately turn on the men, driven into a murderous fury by one minute of awkward thrusting in the missionary position, and thirty seconds of vigorous pounding in ‘missionary but a little sideways.’ Somehow most of our heroes manage to escape the wrath of three anemic women powered only by sexual frustration, and return to society, where they discover the truth of what happened.

So everybody in the area knew about the orgy murders, and they only said something about how maybe you shouldn’t attend the orgy murders when you miraculously came back alive from the orgy murders. 

Maybe you should tip better, Schultzy.

Clearly this was all a work of fiction by a horny 15 year-old with up to two encyclopedias at his disposal. That little fact was given away the first time our rugged hero touched a boob and came so relentlessly he ejaculated dust. But if we’re going to publish teen DIY erotica can we at least find an author with delusions of grandeur? Even in this guy’s wild fantasies, the women will only bang him to undo a curse and that makes me too sad to finish.

So the story ends with our protagonist sadly confiding that he never had sex again. Which is not at all surprising, but is certainly a shame since he could have brought woman-on-top to the western world several decades early, and utterly shattered American society. 

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FUCKING DAY

Natural Bust Enlargement with Total Mind Power

In 1976, Donald L. Wilson, M.D. wrote a book called Total Mind Power: How to Use the Other 90% of Your Mind. It was a huge hit, and while on the subject of dubious percentages, the title alone was responsible for making the world 4% dumber. It was grifter quackery, but in what has to be the greatest comeback of ideas since Taco Bell decided they should go back to not having seafood salad on the menu, Donald wrote a followup book: the ultimate and obvious application of unlocked psychic potential: bigger tits.

I know this is unusual, but I have a dedication to make before we start. Like the book NATURAL BUST ENLARGEMENT WITH TOTAL MIND POWER: HOW TO USE THE OTHER 90% OF YOUR MIND TO INCREASE THE SIZE OF YOUR BREASTS, I want to dedicate this article to “every woman who wants to increase the size of her breasts.” You’re my inspiration, my light; the real heroes forever, or at least until your tits get big enough.

You definitely already knew this, but for 139 pages, Donald L. Wilson offers no way to make your boobs bigger other than really, really wishing on them. There are meditation techniques and visualizations and reassurances that your powers do, in fact, work no matter what anyone says, but that’s it. For someone with enough of a background in science to be an actual fucking medical doctor, it seems weird it never occured to Donald to do clinical trials. How hard is it to lure ten insecure women into a research center so you can measure their tits before and after they perform magic spells on them? Psh. I learned how to do that when I was 15.

One concern not addressed by the book is this: the size of a boob isn’t vague pseudoscience. You can just look at it or feel it and see how big it is. Try it at home. Then, after hypnosis, you can paw at the same boob again. Is it bigger? Great. You’ve shaken the world. Show those before and after pictures, maybe with some themed costumes and you’ve got yourself a really crowd-pleasing academic document. The fact that this isn’t the best-selling book in the history of publishing is proof it doesn’t work. Imagine any media outlet -ever- not running with the story “Sexy, topless photos prove man has discovered titty-fattening mind rays.” No other news item is more important than that.

In the ’00s, a penis enlargement company chose world-famous porn star and cured rat ham, Ron Jeremy, to be their spokesperson. This meant their marketers could show his exhaustingly documented penis before the pills and then his larger penis after the pills. But they didn’t. It’s a product based entirely around irrational hope and they somehow chose the only penis circumstance that accidentally proved their pills didn’t work. This book does the same thing. If Donald L. Wilson truly believed mind powers could increase a woman’s bust, why didn’t he include photos of whatever pair of mutant tits convinced him of that? It’s like he wrote this book specifically to trick very stupid girls into letting him touch their very small breasts. Psssh. I learned how to do that when I was 13.

The Total Mind Power techniques have some strange side effects like making you more slender in the waist, probably because this book is the specific fantasy of a horny nerd and not because your X-Men powers will move waist meat to your bust meat. I highlighted Donald’s tips on being able to tell when something is bigger by using “sight” and “touch.” It’s pretty normal for grifters to have contempt for their mark’s intelligence, but I don’t remember seeing an author mansplain vision before. And at the risk of more unnecessary advice, don’t listen to fetishists who say whispering dreams into someone’s nipples is science. It’s worth a try, a fun tip to meet girls at the beach, one simple trick every bra salesman hates, something I wish I’d thought of first, cheaper than titty salve, a freedom America’s enemies will never take, and an effective way to see which titties can keep a secret, but not science.

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This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme, John: The reason no truck-stop bathroom stall has a functioning lock.