WarBeast
02-07-2009, 03:26 AM
WARBLING RUBBER NUTS
ON A THREE-LEGGED MONKEY
Another fine story by Reverend WarBeast.
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It was about 4 centiniums after my graduation from the Scrotumganker Academy, that I lucked out and captured the almost kinda-sorta legendary furr-burrowing tweeky-lipped beaker-billed Snortapuss.
This all went down while I was fistering a rowdy flipper-footed-gerbil-hound, in hopes that it would help me split open the head of a nanner-ass-spatula-quack, in order to observe the squeeble-furnts within and their diabolical activities, which I was certain had a lot to do with the recent out-break of funga-poop-yam-rashes that was currently plaguing the inhabitants of the Squiznigger Outpost.
To say I was surprised to see that cephalapeederous abnormality would be one nipple-wedgey of an understatement.
I was so gabberflasted that I experienced a major bout of cerebral incontinence, thus my brainial functions took a big shit on me, and I damn near let the little corn-fudger get away, which would’ve been one of the most major fruck up’s I could’ve ever made.
So, without further delay, I hastily fired my jiz-net cannon and bagged the lil’ boullia-base-bugger-billy-bungholia, which pissed a river and pooped mountains of fecalorus-tampon-blisters that I just had to collect for future scrutiny… And so, I garfled up the whole mess and stored it in Quanto-nucleastic-tittypink-tupperware-bowls.
Needless to say, my penistacles were howlin’ with glee and my armpits were moist. It had to be the bestest ting to happen to me, since that fine day I made it through the rigors of the Pretzalling Ritual of the Holy-Moley Jock-Strap Cotton-Swab, which marked my passage from a wee pez-waddler to a fully matured nad-ult, with all the rights and privileges granted to a full-grown Neemyminder, who possesses twelve testicles.
I spared no corn-boogers in hauling ass back to the Meurkillian SpraxLatriarch Headquarters, so I could share my acquisition with the prestigimous Flamdip Council, which was known to reward such discoveries as mine with a splurd-load of sibnifious-rectovian-flarzle-disks, which I received as I had expected, but to my delighted surprise, I was also honored with a large vat of cat-fur and fartlepud-hog-lard, in which to waller around in while I wizzle-spoove my grunk-bladder, which I must say, made my fleshterous-scrogginrod pulsibate with unfettered snorbishness.
It would be safe to say, this marked a most splendivious time of my life, one that I shall always remember when I polish my wib-wob-pecker-snev.
THE END.
ON A THREE-LEGGED MONKEY
Another fine story by Reverend WarBeast.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was about 4 centiniums after my graduation from the Scrotumganker Academy, that I lucked out and captured the almost kinda-sorta legendary furr-burrowing tweeky-lipped beaker-billed Snortapuss.
This all went down while I was fistering a rowdy flipper-footed-gerbil-hound, in hopes that it would help me split open the head of a nanner-ass-spatula-quack, in order to observe the squeeble-furnts within and their diabolical activities, which I was certain had a lot to do with the recent out-break of funga-poop-yam-rashes that was currently plaguing the inhabitants of the Squiznigger Outpost.
To say I was surprised to see that cephalapeederous abnormality would be one nipple-wedgey of an understatement.
I was so gabberflasted that I experienced a major bout of cerebral incontinence, thus my brainial functions took a big shit on me, and I damn near let the little corn-fudger get away, which would’ve been one of the most major fruck up’s I could’ve ever made.
So, without further delay, I hastily fired my jiz-net cannon and bagged the lil’ boullia-base-bugger-billy-bungholia, which pissed a river and pooped mountains of fecalorus-tampon-blisters that I just had to collect for future scrutiny… And so, I garfled up the whole mess and stored it in Quanto-nucleastic-tittypink-tupperware-bowls.
Needless to say, my penistacles were howlin’ with glee and my armpits were moist. It had to be the bestest ting to happen to me, since that fine day I made it through the rigors of the Pretzalling Ritual of the Holy-Moley Jock-Strap Cotton-Swab, which marked my passage from a wee pez-waddler to a fully matured nad-ult, with all the rights and privileges granted to a full-grown Neemyminder, who possesses twelve testicles.
I spared no corn-boogers in hauling ass back to the Meurkillian SpraxLatriarch Headquarters, so I could share my acquisition with the prestigimous Flamdip Council, which was known to reward such discoveries as mine with a splurd-load of sibnifious-rectovian-flarzle-disks, which I received as I had expected, but to my delighted surprise, I was also honored with a large vat of cat-fur and fartlepud-hog-lard, in which to waller around in while I wizzle-spoove my grunk-bladder, which I must say, made my fleshterous-scrogginrod pulsibate with unfettered snorbishness.
It would be safe to say, this marked a most splendivious time of my life, one that I shall always remember when I polish my wib-wob-pecker-snev.
THE END.