Lust: the deadliest, yet most stimulating sin of all. The temptation, the yearning, that driving, effervescent feeling of desire that permeates one’s entire body and ethereal sense of being; when such an elated, albeit vexing feeling arises and takes over one’s psyche, the means in which a creature goes about handling such a powerful emotion can say a lot about one’s maturity and psychological soundness. When it came to him, however, he always had a rough time suppressing this particular itch.
“Shit, man,” SpongeBob mused to himself as he lied in his bed. “I really need to bust a mad sponge-nut onto some nasty thot’s fine-ass scales.” It had been a long time since the sentient sponge had last been deep in some ectothermic pussy. One could dare say it had been too long.
His last time had been two months prior, and it had left quite a nasty taste in his mouth (and not just because of her stank pussy, which smelled like Cool Ranch Doritos). All throughout their intercourse, she seemed to be constantly mentally blanking, and any instance where she was inclined to moan out his name resulted in an awkward, icy silence. SpongeBob had initially determined that this was a sure sign of how weak his game was, but then he realized that it was probably just her derp-ass fish memory resetting itself every six seconds. Fuck outta here, fish biology.
“Meow,” Gary said, greeting his distraught and hormonal owner after hearing him complain about his first-ocean problem. “Meow.”
“Nah, Gary, I told you I’m not into that shit anymore. I almost got my sponge-dick ripped off last time, I’m not going for that shit again,” SpongeBob replied. “I just don’t think ‘yo shell can handle this dick. Now leave me alone.”
“Meow…” Gary replied, doubly angrily and disappointed. He scurried away to go shitpost on /r9k/ about how awful the world is because he cannot get some mean dick all up in his shell. His threads always 404 because being gay is a sin.
SpongeBob stood up in his bed and whipped out his Acer. He didn’t have it in him to traipse on down to the Goofy Goober today to hit on some cougar Snappers that rock Forever 21 but just turned 30 in fish years. Instead, he signed onto his favorite dating site, PlentyofFish, to troll for some pink. Despite using the site on and off for the past year, he couldn’t help but still be taken aback by the blunt accuracy of the website’s name. He took to the website’s main page to make a declaration to all of Bikini Bottom.
“ayyy whos try’na work their pectoral fin to jerk off some mad spongedick ? ?? hmu school ;)”
The blindingly horny sponge laid there for a solid ten minutes, wondering why no loose lady-trouts were lining up to swallow his sponge-load. Surely there had to be at least one loose-ass fine-ass sad-ass fish that had just gotten out of a bad relationship and was looking for some rebound online. That’s how he met Gary, after all. It’s canon.
After 20 endless numbered minutes had passed, SpongeBob had had enough. “Man, fuck this shit,” He muttered. “I just wanna get some freaknasty fish lips wrapped around me. Is that too much to ask for?”
As his mesohyl balls turned bluer and bluer, SpongeBob decided that enough was enough, and that if he was gonna get some mad puss, who better to get it from than those closest to you?
With his square pants tighter than the music of Disturbed, SpongeBob somehow found it in his home-bodied self to leave his pineapple home in pursuit of a nice fishy surface on which to release his thick, creamy sponge-load.
His first target: His best friend, the resident starfish Patrick Star. He and the ‘Bob had had a number of random encounters throughout their friendship, none of which SpongeBob was particularly fond of. Not for a lack of trying – Patrick was nothing if not willing to try to take his sponge friend on the ride of his life, but his coarse-ass stubs for hands gave his sponge-dick a sponge-rash. But when Patrick got down on his star-knees and took all 11 inches of SpongeBob into his mouth, damn, you wish you could get a blowin’ that satisfying.
SpongeBob knocked on his best friend’s rock house, but was met sadly not with the sight of Patrick’s resting derp face, but with a large paper note from the starfish.
“Look, I don’t know who stole the rest of my giant paper, or what it is you want from me, but I just can’t take this anymore. I’ve moved, changed my name, my address, I’m a totally different person. Please don’t go searching out my friends or my family. Good luck finding me, you abusive, toxic fuckhead.”
“Damn, dude…” SpongeBob said aloud, laying his sponge-head down low and ruminating. “Patrick just hasn’t been the same since he developed his crippling addiction to sea-meth.” Patrick had been a closeted partier for about as long as SpongeBob knew the guy, but he would only ever dabble in some of the least harmful of popular undersea drugs, like seaweed or ecsta-sea. But after Patrick would make several weekly unannounced trips to Rock Bottom and come back quiet and suspicious, SpongeBob just knew something had to be wrong. Would Patrick ever come back? He had no way of knowing if he’d ever see his best friend again, or if he was safe, or even still breathing.
“Oh well,” SpongeBob concluded. “Maybe Sandy will lemme shoot my larvae all over her squirrel body.”
SpongeBob made his way to Sandy’s underwater tree-dome in hopes that she’d be up for some watersports. When he made his way to the entrance, however, he was once again face-to-face with another note by a close friend.
“SpongeBob, look… I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but I can’t do this anymore. I promise that it has nothing to do with anything you did, I just… I need a bit of time to myself. I’ve fled the Mediterranean for winter, and I’m not sure if I’ll be back. I love you.
P.S. Happy Leif Ericcson Day.”
A subtle, but nonetheless paralyzing feeling shook through SpongeBob’s entire sponge-body as he questioned whether or not he wanted to press onward. He could very well never see his best friend again, and his on-again-off again lover was nowhere to be found, leaving without even a chance for last goodbyes.
He sighed audibly. “Hinga-dinga-darn it!”
In that single, seemingly unending moment, SpongeBob couldn’t help but reflect on what fun life was. Back in his earlier days, he didn’t have to worry about his best friend for life sharing needles behind the Salty Spitoon, and his interactions with Sandy rarely got any worse than the mammal questioning the possibility of SpongeBob having hair.
Still, there was some hope left for the sea-sponge.
“I know!” SpongeBob called out to himself, to the shifty attention of passersby. “I’ll go see if ‘Squid wants to gimme that good ol’ tentacle treatment!”
And so SpongeBob took off to Squidward’s house to see if the artsy squid was down to give SpongeBob that good-good.
Upon his arrival at Squidward’s house, he was greeted by a notepad applied to the front door of Squidward’s tiki house, whose front page was left blank. SpongeBob knocked on the door and pleaded to be able to see at least one of his long-time friends today.
“Squidward!” He called out, knocking until his hand could bear the force no longer. “Squidward, do you wanna play?”
He tore off the front page of the notepad, only to be greeted by the word ‘NO’ written in deep red.
“…A-Are you sure?”
Again, SpongeBob grabbed the page before him and tore it off, only to be greeted by the word ‘YES.’
He felt hopeless. Nothing felt right. A humble search for some of that good succ turned into one of the most harrowing days of the aging sponge’s life, in which everything seemed to just be snowballing and getting worse with each squeaking footstep taken. He’d never be this young again. What was there for him to do? Mr. Krabs’ addiction to greed had degenerated to the point where SpongeBob hadn’t received a paycheck in years, which ruled out the question of heading down to The Wash to pick up a sea-escort behind the nematode-vandalized dumpsters.
However, just as SpongeBob was ready to call it quits and head home to crawl into bed alone, watching homemade angler fish-dom BDSM porn sponge-dick in hand, a stunning realization struck SpongeBob.
“I’ve got it! If I have no one to speak to and validate my shallow and moot desire for meaningful human interaction, why don’t I just make my own friend to give the big-nasty?”
But to which household object could SpongeBob most enjoyably give that good sponge-knobbing? He paused for a moment, stroking his chin determinedly. His first thought was his old portable CD player, because the pop-up cover had a pretty tantalizing image of Dora the Explorer in it, but SpongeBob quickly discarded that thought from his mind since Dora is underage and he doesn’t want to go to prison. Or wait SpongeBob might still be a minor in canon
“Reusable Water Bottle Buddy!” SpongeBob shouted excitedly as he removed the lid from his trusty water bottle, and now sexy fuck-buddy of whom SpongeBob had full, beautiful control. However, just as SpongeBob went to stick his USB drive into her D:\ slot (even though it was SpongeBob who was packin’ the D), the realization that this wasn’t a good idea washed over him like a painfully sobering tidal wave, for you see, there was still water inside Reusable Water Bottle Buddy, and SpongeBob’s todger found itself getting mood-killingly damp and soft.
“What words of power were made fas between them, ekenames and auchnomes, acnomina ecnumina?” SpongeBob wondered aloud as he stood there, uncertain of what object to try to seduce next. This was even harder than all those long nights SpongeBob spent up late watching Family Feud reruns on his TV, trying his hardest to lick Steve Harvey’s mustache as it would appear on the screen, even as the camera would pan all around and sometimes not show Steve Harvey at all.
“Ford Pinto Buddy!” SpongeBob exclaimed as he eyeballed the cumshot-ready exterior of his new piece of ass. He liked the idea of this sex partner because when SpongeBob would shoot his load all over his new friend’s front, Ford Pinto Buddy could just hit the windshield wipers to get the cum off instead of waiting for SpongeBob to take his sweet-ass time getting the cum towel. This new playmate reminded SpongeBob of an old fling of his, Boaty.
But just as SpongeBob mounted the car and prepared for the pushing, disaster struck. When SpongeBob rammed Ford Pinto Buddy from the back, the car spontaneously exploded in a mess of white-hot shrapnel and machinery, innocently killing the poor driver still inside the vehicle who was unsure of the situation before it all blew up in their face.
“Oh, great,” SpongeBob remarked. “Now I’m a murderer too!” SpongeBob was ready to give up, go home and sharpen his Golden Spatula down to a shank that he could use to put an end to this miserable existence, but just as SpongeBob was about to put his foot down to begin walking towards the light, he got what he considered his best idea in the entire ﷺﷺﷺﷺ years the sponge had been alive.
SpongeBob pulled his trusty bubble soap out of his pocket, put the wand up to his lips, and blew with all his might. The carbon dioxide that was exhaled with the force of a thousand ballistae from SpongeBob’s mouth left his body on a mission. After about a minute of careful shape-shifting, what eventually formed would become just what SpongeBob needed.
A featureless, rudimentary bubble facsimile of a sexless entity floated before SpongeBob, but SpongeBob didn’t immediately begin inappropriately touching the bubble, as all he could do was stand there, marveling at the beautiful creation that he couldn’t wait to sponge-cum all over.
“I think I’ll call you…” SpongeBob began. “Bubble Fuck-Buddy!”
The beauty of SpongeBob’s newly-formed bubble plaything was such that SpongeBob felt he couldn’t wait any longer, and he immediately ran, bubble-hand in his, as they made their way to SpongeBob’s pineapple home.
When SpongeBob and Bubble Fuck-Buddy walked through the former’s front door, Gary greeted them casually, only to take a second glance and loudly meow in SpongeBob’s direction in equal parts shock and disgust. Gary had walked in on SpongeBob unapologetically watching sponge porn in his living room before, and had taken a blind eye to SpongeBob’s many sloppy hookups with grimy, salty fish he’d picked up at The Wash or the Weenie Hut Bar & Pub, but even the previously desensitized mollusk was taken aback by SpongeBob and his new friend’s sizeable bubble butt. He kept a keen eye to its every last jiggle and glisten as they made their way to SpongeBob’s room and wasted no time shutting his door.
Before they knew it, they entered the room, and thusly their haven. They were both wrapped up in the enclosed, shared sexual tension that permeated the air of SpongeBob’s room in equal measure with the alluring, room-filling scent of burning vanilla-scented candles for added intoxication. The anticipation of what was to come was an ache SpongeBob could bear no more, and he tenderly felt up Bubble Fuck-Buddy’s bare chest and felt the frisky bubble immediately go for SpongeBob’s zipper.
All Bubble Fuck-Buddy could do was blush at what was surely burning desire hand-in-hand with secondhand embarrassment. “Ooh, you’re a naughty boy, aren’t you?” The bubble teased with lust in its voice.
SpongeBob whimpered, looking away in shame. “Only for you… Okay?” SpongeBob tried to force a smile that hid the feelings Bubble Fuck-Buddy shot through his pulse.
Bubble Fuck-Buddy finally pulled down SpongeBob’s square pants and gave the sponge a firm grip. “You aren’t allowed to cum, okay, princess?”
While he originally tried to write off the embarrassing request, SpongeBob knew he had to say something, anything, to get the only thing he’s ever wanted to this extent.
“Hi, Squidward!” SpongeBob shouted as he and Bubble Fuck-Buddy made their way to the Krusty Krab’s front counter.
“SpongeBob, how am I supposed to stave off the temptation to drain my body of enough of my blood to be fully drained of the demons that cannot be silenced by anything but recreational substances if you come to work on your day off?” Squidward’s message was not heard. It never is.
“SpongeBob: I want you to meet my new friend, Bubble Fuck-Buddy!” SpongeBob said, holding the scrumptious, curvy bubble in Squidward’s face.
“http://i.imgur.com/1Ykl8Ds.png.” Squidward said in amazement.
“I'm not taking an order for a bubble.” Sponge Bob
“May I take your order?” Squidward asked.
SpongeBob almost couldn’t how reborn he felt. SpongeBob thought he’d seen all there was to see in the world of interspecies hookups, but this was interplanetary sex.
Both the perpetrator and the Bubble Fuck-Buddy, Bubble Fuck-Buddy felt proud of what it’d achieved. “I know how you’re feeling, SpongeBob. I’ve had plenty of… experience, should we say, in the world of seduction before today, despite having just been physically created and born not two hours ago. But what we just did was magical.”
They laid together in SpongeBob’s bed, completely naked, cherishing every last felt the irradiant glow of the other’s body heat.