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we buffer, we suffer

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The first thing you notice is his huge, black, throbbing motorcycle

(Motorcycles don't throb, you fucking idiot, Edd can barely say through his laughter, landing a smack upside Tord's head before he doubles over.

Tord punches Edd back. It's his magic motorcycle that's made out of two girls scissoring, remember?

Oh yeah -- did we ever actually put that in, or did we just talk about it?)

The second thing you notice is that his motorcycle is throbbing because its made of two magic lesbians scissoring, and Clownius is currently titty-fucking the girl in the front, climaxing in a shower of

(What’s a really cursed word for cum? Tord asks.

We’re really doing this, huh?

We really are!

Move, then, Edd says, practically sitting in Tord's lap as he muscles him out of the way. I got one)

voluminous baby gravy all over her face as he flashed you a thumbs up. He wiped his dick off on her cheek and shook it out for good measure, but then either forgot to put it back in his pants or left it out to swing down by his ankles solely to flex on you, but you were nonetheless mesmerized by his monstrous manhood.

(You okay, Tord? Is it already too much for you?

Tord is laughing too hard to breathe, much less speak as he pushes Edd back into his own office chair and reclaims the keyboard. We need to keep a running tally for how many times this makes me wanna kill myself, he finally manages to say.

For me that’s just the word count)

You open your mouth to say something, but the wind is knocked out of you as you start to feel your

(What’s a cursed word for pussy? Tord asks.

I can think of a million, Edd says; you’re gonna need to narrow it down.

Personally, I know cunny isn’t the most objectively cursed term, but it still activates my sleeper cell programming whenever I hear it)

People use that unironically?

Yes, unfortunately. We’ll put it down and we’ll edit it with something wors – NO, fuck, we gotta do it like those trashy drugstore novels, hold on I think I—

Move. Edd shoves Tord back, toppling him as the computer chair trips on a wayward cord. Tord yells out, tries to hold on and pull Edd down with him, but is ignored as Edd types a furious string into his laptop's address bar.

(Thanks, asshole, Tord huffs as he claws his way up onto his knees.

No problem. Alright, Edd says as he moves to let Tord see the screen. We’re using this as our thesaurus.

What the fuck is – Tord’s eyes widen as he reads out: “ ‘Maybe,’ said Pinkie Pie, while limboing under Violation’s god-dick. Edd, is there something you wanna tell me?


You sure?

One hundred percent. Now let’s see a good synonym for va-gine…his voice trails as he starts scrolling through the story, stopping at – Marshmallow vagina is a good one.)

You start to feel a churning in your stomach at the sight of his impressive physique, your marshmallow vagina beginning to moisten.

(I’m gonna be pissing blood for days after we’re done with this.

After? I’m pissing blood right now! Now MOVE, I’m the writer.

Why are you the writer again?

Because I type faster and you wanted to do illustrations.

Oh yeah.)

That had never happened to you before! You clenched your thighs together instinctively, which pressed your buxom basketball-sized breasts together so high you could have laid your head down into them, so tight you couldn’t spilt them with a credit card. Clownius smirked, swinging his dick in a circle lazily like a cowboy with his lasso – and you hoped in your heart of hearts he was interested in lassoing you.

But before either of you could say anything a giant tentacle plant monster with five dicks for eyes shot out of the ground, instantly attacking you with its thick, slimy appendages, lifting you into the air so suddenly your breasts bounced up and slapped you in the face, possibly giving you a severe concussion, a chance which only increased as it slammed you back down into the asphalt, leaving a crater in your wake. Your eyes swam with stars and your ears rung, your face growing hot not as your blood rushed downwards with the pull of gravity but as you considered this attractive stranger having to take you to the hospital after all this, the look of pity, sadness, and barely suppressed joy as the doctors told him you were officially too stupid to survive on your own and you had no next of kin, so he was going to have to take you home, which was fine by you, secretly, because you had always had a Bimbofication fetish you were too ashamed to tell anyone about. So deep had been your shame that you were often reduced to ugly, snotty sobs when the next in your string of meaningless fucks so much as called you a slut as he fingerblasted you in the dumpster outside of Nandos.

(Hasn’t Matt told us this exact story?

Well we’re already plagiarizing from – Tord leans forward to read the url, face falling as he saw that the fanfiction Edd had pulled up was entitled ‘Dicks Everywhere Interlude: The Elements of Horse Semen.’  

Edd nods sagely . Understandable have a nice day)

But in the meantime that shit hurted.

(Tord? Tord where did you put that noose Tom got you for Christmas?)

Clownius immediately sprung into action, climbing back onto his motorcycle and lassoing his

(Edd grabs the mouse and pulls back up the tab, highlighting a small passage that makes Tord’s lips thin into a harsh line )

Penis of Olympus around the monster’s abdomen and racing around it in a circle, his serpentine schlong drawing into a tighter and tighter vice grip – but that didn’t slow the monster down from fondling your breasts and making them bounce individually up and down, squeezing them so hard your nipples grew erect and looked like those bags cake makers use for frosting, slapping you again and again in the face each time, your cries of pain muffled by the teeth that were

(Tord, is there something you wanna tell me?

Absolutely not)

seemingly getting knocked loose with each successive blow. Just when you were about to taste the sweet semen of oblivion

(Edd smacks Tord so hard he sees stars)

your metaphorical climax was cut short by the monster, now squeezed so tightly around the waist its dick eyes were bulging out and swollen a deep purple, like grapes, began to vomit up something onto you – a blue, gloopy substance that tasted like salty pancake batter

(That’s what cum tastes like, right? Tord asks with a shit-eating grin. I wouldn’t know.


I’m telling the truth.

I believe you)

sprayed all over your face and tits, soaking your white shirt and revealing that you weren’t wearing a bra.

(Edd shoves Tord down to the floor again. You’re enjoying this too unironically.


Edd points to the fact that Tord is currently sporting a chub, to which Tord sputters that it was just at this bukkake part, but Edd ignores him, planting a foot on Tord’s face when he tries to get up off the floor)

“I wish more of these fuckers were into emo,” Clownius cried. “So they would cut themselves!”

And so Clownius Thundercock, Champion of the Oppressed, yanked his dick so hard that it instantly cut the monster in half.