Ray: “I’m going to get some utensils to eat with.”
Me: “Because you are a lady, and don’t wish to soil your dainty fingers with chicken flesh.”
Ray: “A really manly and awesome sort of lady!”
Me: “Such as one with a penis?”
Ray: “I was going to say one that likes to fuck other ladies... with her dick.”
Me: “So, a hermaphrodite, then?”
Ray: “That’s right!”
Me: “A hermaphrodite in a tuxedo.”
Ray: “Because of the awesome part, yeah.”
Me: “Well, they say clothes make the man.”
(Edited to add: I should hope that to readers of this journal this would be obvious, but in case it is not, my denigrating his desire to eat with utensils is used in the same sense as I might denigrate one's desire to, for example, wipe one's bum after pooping; which is to say, in order to be completely ridiculous and intentionally moronic. I by no means wanted to offend my fellow males by implying that only a woman, or indeed a tuxedo-wearing hermaphrodite, would ever be so concerned with hygiene and cleanliness. I don't need to be fielding charges of sexism here)
For those somehow as yet unaware of this shtick, I will occasionally take the tawdry straw of Japanese hentai (or "pornographic", to us anglophones) comics, and spin of them the purest of comedy gold. I do so under the pen name of Newdog15, for reasons which I explained here.
These posts, naturally, are ever so slightly not-safe-for-work, but I consider this a moot point in large part because, really, who's going to be reading something like this at work? Crazy people, and people with private offices, that's who.
Anyways. As always, enjoy, and by all means, let's have some feedback. It's a little more high concept than some I've done (which is saying something!), but I feel it does its job well.
( many additional pages below the cut! )
Shit like that, in short, sticks with you.
A while ago, I thought of an idea for one which has never entirely left me. A book which surpasses many of its peers in that it teaches young boys not only about their bodies but about numbers as well. I just need a capable illustrator to tastefully put pictures to my simple rhyming prose. It would be easy, too: It’s basically just the same picture over and over again through the book, with only simple variations. I think that done right, we’re talking instant classic here, and childhood memories which would never die.
Check it out, yo.
“One Penis is Enough”
A rhyming children’s book about numbers and junk, By Dave Littler.
My penis is fine, because it’s all mine,
And my mommy and daddy tell me not to whine.
But while it is fun, even having ONE,
Flapping around in my pants while I run…
What if I had TWO? There’s so much more I could do!
Like use one to swing through the trees like a monkey in a zoo!
And if I had THREE, oh! I’d be so free!
And again, I’d use one to swing through trees!
And if I had FOUR, I’d do the same some more!
I guess you can see what, with FIVE, would be in store!
And if I had SIX, I’d swing through the trees with my dicks!
There’s hardly a problem in the world I couldn’t fix!
And if I had SEVEN, in the trees I’d be in heaven!
I suppose you can see what I’d do with dicks EIGHT through ELEVEN!
But if I hade TWELVE, what would I do with myself?
Oh, I know! Like an ape, through the jungles I’d delve!
When I tell sister, though, she acts really mad,
Though I think that inside she is instead sad.
She says I should be glad about the ONE that I had,
‘Cause she’s got NONE at all, because she isn’t a lad!
“None at all”, I ask, “But how can this be?”
It turns out she just has a hole for her pee!
I say I am sorry. I will not make fun.
And count myself lucky to have even ONE.
And though I’m sad that I’ll never get to do that monkey stuff,
I guess in the end that ONE penis is enough.
---
I'm thinking "instant family classic", am I right?
After a five month long wait, I have ready to present to you, o lovers of ribaldry and pornography as mixed unto a single pasty consistency, and offering which I take singular pleasure both in having created, and in now presenting to you. By all means, enjoy.
( Seventeen additional fun-filled pages of laughter and unease below thecut! )Comments, as always, are both welcomed and appreciated.
I feel we've spent enough time up on dry land with our past few entries in this series. While the beasts of the land may provide a certain familiarity and concomitant horror for it, everyone knows that the sea is a multi-strata stew of nightmares and madness, and if you really want to injure a human mind, it is visions of the ocean and all that swim, squirm, scuttle and spawn in those terrible depths that we must turn.
The giant squid, captured - in a delicious bit of irony - in the act of attempting to capture a less-giant-squid. How the tables have turned, Archeteuthis.
Squids are different. They're not like you and I. Unless you're a squid, or something else which is like a squid. Perhaps an Octopus, or even a Vampire Squid From Hell. And if you are and have somehow managed not only to pierce the barrier of the sun-lit world but master the language of man, then allow me to bid you a hearty IA, IA, CTHULHU FHTAGN!, and perhaps could you put in a good word for me with the big guy next time you swing by the sunken city of R'lyeh? Giant Squids are even more different, and not just in terms of their size - after all, they share their plus-sized dimensions with the similarly big but lesser-known Colossal Squid. They're different from their fellow squids in that their mating habits are particularly unpleasant, in ways which perhaps not surprise those ancient fishermen whose nightmares they haunted for the many centuries during which they were held in a deep and superstitious dread; specifically, they're apparently quite violent, though many of the specifics of the process still elude us today.
For context, let's have a look at one of the constants that remain true of the mating practices of all squids (and indeed even the horrifying and mysteriously-though-whimsically-mis-name
Squid spermatophores, in their "comin' at ya" sausage-state (left) and "all up in your business" unpackaged state (right)
Spermatophores are essentially packages of flesh-like wrapping containing vast numbers of sperm, as well as a sort of nutritious chemical "yolk" which serves to keep the sperm contained within the spermatophor alive and healthy for some considerable amount of time after the male squid shoots his load. Since squids don't exactly have penetrative sex in the way that we tetrapods tend to, but rather, sort of aim their dicks at their intended mate and then fire off a stream of spermatophores in a manner not dissimilar to one of those baseball pitching machines which unpopular and lonely rich kids who can't find a friend to pitch to them use. Only with sperm. At least it's my assumption that rich kids don't have machines to pitch sperm at them. I don't actually know. And like they say, "When you make an assumption, you make an ass out of you and motion". Anyways, the spermatophores keep the sperm on-target, instead of swimming off in random directions in the water, and have a few ancillary benefits as well, which vary somewhat from one type of squid to another.
Some of them have a sort of enzyme on their surface which - upon contact with flesh - will cause them to burn a hole through said flesh and then embed the spermatophor inside of the body, where the sperm can get to work. The Japanese - whose cultural infiltration some decades ago by Mind Flayers has dulled their instinctive loathing of the horrors of the ocean - provide us with a wince-worthy anecdote in this regard, as a Japanese man some years ago ate a quite-recently-deceased squid which still had active spermatophores in its systems, and ended up having one of these things attempt to impregnate the inside of his throat, burning through the flesh of his esophagus and deposit its rich load of swimmers into the soft tissues of his neck. Unsurprisingly, surgery was called-for here. If it has not already done so, I fully expect this to inspire in the twisted and only marginally human brains of the masters of Japanese culture the notion of zoophile guro bukkake (look these terms up for yourself, kids! Learning is fun! Make sure google's safe search feature is turned off while you do so, or you might miss the really interesting bits that grownups think you're "too stupid" to understand!). Nor are Japanese epicureans the only unexpecting and less-than-thrilled recipients of these little bundles of chemical joy: Certain fish and other aquatic life which are known to prey on squid have apparently been found with scars all over their faces which are evidently the results of them getting face-fulls of spermatophores voided from the bodies of squid as they were being devoured.
The Giant Squid is not known to produce these flesh-eating spermatophores, but nor are they known NOT to; their spermatophores, at the very least, CAN be said to be coated with a gelatinous sheath of ooze of unknown but presumably disgusting purpose. Moreover, their spermatophores HAVE been found, a number of times, sunk deep in the flesh both of females and males of the species. The latter in particular is a source of lurid speculation: Are these the result of deep-sea homosexual trysts, or are they the result of the males attempting to shoot their loads into the waiting flesh of a female and missing, hitting themselves by accident in the process? To this day, we cannot know. Certainly this latter scenario is leant a certain amount of strength by the fact that the Architeuthis is known to have long, muscular penises, sometimes up to THREE FEET IN LENGTH, and it seems that the process of controlling ten limbs, each of them several meters in length as well as coordinating the discharge of this penis during the evidently violent struggle between a male which is itself the size of a big rig and a female which is around 30% larger than themselves might be a bit much of a feat for a creature even with the large and well-developed brain of these kings of the deep.
A slightly mangled and fairly dead, but nevertheless demonstratably manly giant squid.
Possibly complicating this delicate dance of deep-sea desire even further is the fact that these spermatophores have been found in deep wounds along the tentacles of the females in question, suggesting that the males may actually need to slash open their mates' flesh before shooting these sausage-like bundles of love down the length of their firehose-like dongs AT the wounds that they have just produced, all the while thrashing about in the blackened depths of the ocean. How they make their way from these wounds up to the pouches of eggs which the female giant squid is as of yet any one's guess; the various squids of the world do so in any number of different ways, ranging from internal insemination to firing off a mucous-covered sack of eggs in the direction of an attached spermatophor and causing external fertilization, only then to attach the glob of fertilized eggs to the squid's own mantle until they're ready to hatch. There's no one consistent model that they seem to follow.
So, let's review in brief: A giant squid swims up to its corresponding and even-more-giant lady-type and begins to wrestle with her, slashing the shit out of her arms and legs in the process. He then aims his three-foot-long dong at her and fires a swarm of love sausages full of his jizz into the wounds he's creating, where they root themselves, maybe by burning and melting themselves into the ravaged and shredded flesh of her wounded limbs. He then takes off, swimming for his life, after which, the female does whatever mysterious-as-fuck thing she does with these horrible things to make more of herself.
Now I want some fucking calamari, and you do too.
One of those questions we hear over and over again throughout our lives is "Why does sex feel good?" This question has an answer so obvious than one - if that one is inclined towards introspection - must arrive at the conclusion that it is so vapid and so vacuous that it is being asked simply for the sake of its use as a rhetorical device or in order to fill up an otherwise quiet moment during a conversation. The answer, obviously, is "Because if it didn't, it wouldn't happen very often and then the organism in question would go extinct." The thing is, there actually IS another approach which can be taken, and those who were paying attention to the lessons on the topic of sharks, lake ducks and bedbugs have already begun to apprehend it for themselves: It is possible for sex to not only be unpleasant, but SO unpleasant that the female is literally incapacitated and rendered incapable of escaping during the act, thus ensuring the success of the act. One assumes that it remains pleasant for the male of the species in question, of course, but perhaps it's best not to contemplate too deeply what sort of emotional content this has for them.
There is one creature, however, that takes this to extravagant new heights, and which puts to shame the paltry lengths these mere pretenders go to to secure the affections of their respective ladies fair. I speak of the otherwise-unremarkable Callosobruchus maculates Seed Beetle, which unambiguously contains one of...
( Bravely onwards into the breach, dear friends! )
Good day, friends and fellows! As promised, my latest re-write is ready for consumption by the public!
For those of you new and unfamilliar with the process, allow me to explain in brief: For reasons of my own - principal among them the entertainment of those depraved souls out there in the ether who share my comic sensibilities - I have taken to taking japanese horrific pornography and turning them into english-language pornographic horrors, and in so doing, crafting the finest of comedy gold.
Previous such works are to be found here.
And now, without further delay...
( Seventeen additional pages below the cut! )
After the warm and enthusiastic response which my previous video offering received, I decided that for this installment I would go straight to video. This presented a few technical problems, primary among them that there wasn't six minutes of echidna dick on video for me to work with. Second of which is that - as usual - my personal standards have risen with this second offing, and as such, this ended up being a significantly more ambitious project.
This having been said... enjoy.
Holy crap! Just had a look at the statistics on my YouTube video. Nearly 10,000 views in just barely more than a day! People sure do love them some slug cocks!
Now I really DO need to do some more videos. Hooray! More work to burden myself down with! About time, too. I was sick of sleeping, ever, anyways.
After many hours of work, I have a little something to share with you folks; a video suppliment to yesterday's post which I've spent the better part of the evening working on.
It's the first video I've ever produced, and so I do hope you'll be kind in your appraisal of this effort.
Edit:
The Mighty Professor PZ Myers of Pharyngula has done me the sublime favour of posting my video on his outstanding blog. It is an honour which surpasses all others, both actual and potential.
http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2009/0
Let us turn our attention, dear readers, from a topic of somewhat gross sexual inequality to one which is a trifle more egalitarian in nature. From the depths of the ocean we now turn to the pacific northwest and my own home of British Columbia. Home to a wide array of distinctive flora and fauna, few of them are as notably bizarre to those born elsewhere in this largely boreal country as the comparatively massive Leopard Slugs found throughout the mainland. And it is these creatures that we now gawk at in horrified wonder as we learn that they have some of...
The Leopard Slug representative of many of its fellows in its order in that it is a hermaphrodite. No issues of sexual dimorphism for these randy little beasts, nor yet of who gets to lead on the dance floor. Each and every one of them - barring, I suppose those victims of accident or birth defect - is possessed of both female and male organs. And what male organs they possess!
Rather than extending out of the lower abdomen or some other out-of-the way locale, the penis is contained in the right side of the slug's head, thus giving rise to its Latin name 'Mucosus Invertebratus Caputithyphallicus', which literally translates into "Slimy, spineless dickhead"*. It is distinct from the familiar human counterpart not only in placement but in colouration, among other things - or, more precisely, the lack thereof: Oozing out of the side of the creature's head, it appears as a translucent white tendril, writhing about as if possessed of a mind of its own, which - at full mast - has a length which is comparable to the total length of the adult slug's entire body.
The situation in which this arises (so to speak) is itself a rather striking one. When two Leopard Slugs take a fancy to one another, they travel together to some ledge or outcropping or what-have you which extends over an otherwise empty expanse. The branches of trees are the most common location for such a moonlight rendezvous, but man-made structures will do just as well for those couples looking for something a bit more modern and exotic. They then entwine themselves with one another and then ooze out a special type of slime which has a consistency and purpose which is disturbingly similar to that secreted by one Mr. Peter Parker in some versions of his story; this white strand of organic outpouring anchors them to their ledge as they then swing out on the end of the length of it and hang there together in mid-air, tightly wound about one another in an erotic embrace. It's at this point that they whip their dicks out.
Both slugs extend their phalluses, which then dangle together below the two of them, wriggling about until they find one another. When they do, they too wrap about one another, and then - THEN, believe it or not - then is when the weird shit starts.
The two intertwined prehensile body-length translucent slug cocks metamorphose, transforming into a configuration which looks somewhat like a church bell got drunk one night, fucked a rose and then gave birth to infants which it then had to explain through tearful eyes to the minister before being excommunicated and forced to live on the streets and sell its bong noises to greasy men in back alleys in order to support its hideous offspring, praying every night to a bell-shaped god which didn't seem to be listening anymore for forgiveness for this terrible crime against nature. This flowery-bell configuration is, believe it or not, the means by which the two slugs pass their sperm back and forth between them before retracting back into their bodies, carrying one another's' sperm with them as they do so, whereupon they are delivered to the internal vagina analogues which both slugs have, whereupon, if all goes according to plan, both are impregnated by the other.
The enticingly erotic mating ritual thus having been completed, the two slugs then lose any and all interest in one another and immediately release both one another and their cord of dangling slime, falling unceremoniously to the ground below and thus slither off to do whatever else it is that Leopard Slugs do to horrify and repulse us.
*this is not actually true, but it MIGHT be if they had been discovered and named by Carl Chun, whose somewhat whimsical approach to zoology results in us living in a world which contains a creature known to science as "THE VAMPIRE SQUID FROM HELL", which is not actually a vampire, not actually a squid, and not actually from hell, but whose name is otherwise 100% accurate.
My latest pornography-turned-comedy re-write is at long, long last complete, and ready for presentation. Enjoy!
( (Sixteen pages - all of them uncensored - below the cut) )As always, it is my sincere hope that you, my treasured readeers have enjoyed the fruits of my labours. Comments, as always, are both welcome and required.
It's been some time, has it not, dear readers? But know that those faithful followers of this fine fare of fact and fancy of fearful fecundity among our fellow creatures' phalluses, that this time has been well-spent, researching and ruminating upon the reproductive regions, from the runty to the regal, of those remarkable relatives among the kingdom Animalia who bear betwixt and amidst their nethers those organs which we have come to know as...
While it may seem a difficult feat to top the horrors and wonders of our dear friends the Bedbugs, nature is nothing if not indulgent and generous with its sources of horror, and so I feel I can now report on a number of additional organisms whose own members are, each in their own way, as deserving of a place on this most prestigious of lists as those who already grace it. But rather than attempting to surpass the Bedbug in its own terms right away (though I am more than willing to present another organism which seems to do so later on), I feel that our next honouree is one which deserves its place here by merit of a sort of existential horror its male-ness seems to inspire.
I speak here of the Anglerfish. Most famous for its distinctive lure, a bio luminescent organ which it dangles before her gruesome bear-trap-like mouth in a manner which is difficult to really see the appeal of without having the comparative misfortune of having evolved in the black and frozen depths of the ocean's deepest depths. One presumes that to the creatures which she preys upon, the sight of a glowing orb suspended in the water is in some other circumstances a source of delight, which is perhaps understandable when one considers the cold and joyless existence that their heredity makes them heir to.
How can you NOT want to swim into that mouth? The Deep-Sea Anglerfish female.
But wait! "her?" Why do I use the female pronoun here? Surely the same applies just as aptly to the male of the species? Oh, ho! Not so, gentle readers! For the Anglerfish is one of the most striking examples in all of nature of sexual dimorphism; the phenomenon of the organisms of two different genders of the same species having dramatically different body types. While the female of the species has the distinctive jaws and lure, to say nothing of tail, fins, eyes, and essentially everything else which one might associate with any type of fish, the adult male angler fish is essentially naught but the piscine equivalent of a cock and balls.
How can this be? How could nature give rise to such an oddity? Or, if you prefer, when Anglerfish-God created the world some 6,000 years ago and created the first Anglerfish male out of clay in his image, what in the world did he look like to give the male of the species such an appearance? (Let it not be said that I do not entertain the premises of creationists and apply them as appropriate.) More to the point, how does such a being continue to survive long enough to procreate at all? Well, therein hangs a tale.
The newborn Deep-Sea Anglerfish, during the few moments of its life during which it is anything but a cock.
When a male Anglerfish is hatched, it is for the most part anatomically complete and functional as we understand fishes to function, though understandably diminutive in scale. There is, however, one glaring omission: The utter lack of a digestive tract. More on this in a moment. Its first instinct upon this moment, thus, is a somewhat peculiar one; rather than seeking out prey to fuel its growth and metabolism, it seeks out a mate. Precocious little scamps, aren't they? Their interest, however is not - or at least not wholly - in getting their newborn infant rocks off. Their sexual appetite is co-mingled with a more nutritional appetite, both of which they intend to satisfy upon locating an adult female. Once they have located the girl of their dreams, their immediate impulse is to swim up to her lower abdomen and immediately begin to consume: latching their teeth into her flesh and chomping down for the first and only time in their lives, they rend her flesh, not only with his teeth, but with a special enzyme whose entire purpose is to destroy not only her flesh but ALSO HIS OWN MOUTH until blood is shed, and then begin to suckle on the thin stream of sanguineous humor which issues forth, at which point, the raw, dissolved mess which was once his mouth joins with her blood vessels, forming one continuous circulatory system, not unlike a fetus inside of its mother's womb. For the adult Anglerfish, this bout of blood-play is the most enticing of all possible foreplay, and a firm indication that she has found in this newborn baby her ideal mate. Her flesh begins at once to heal over the wound and not coincidentally the male which continues to cling to it.
Before long, the male is entirely encased in the scarred-over fish-flesh, and in short order, his various body parts begin to atrophy and wither away. They have, after all, served their purpose in life. Within a short time, all that remains of him is his reproductive organs and the very minimal vascular system which allows it to continue to process his fair lady's blood for the rest of his life, which is spent as a vaguely male lump encased within a wad of scar tissue on the bottom of his mate's belly. His contribution, naturally, to what can only in the most generous of terms be called a "symbiotic" relationship, is to occasionally squirt some sperm towards her so as to allow her to produce the eggs which will give rise to the next generation of females and males who will go on to enjoy similarly mutually-rewarding arrangements.
I suppose there are potentially those among my readership who might take a look at this pairing and - be they male or female - see some merit to it. For the males, the notion of nonstop sex and food for life from a female who asks for nothing in return may seem like it has its rewards. For the female, having her sex drive satisfied without having to put up with male bullshit and chauvinism might seem like an appealing notion from time to time. I would hasten, however, to point out that if this analogy were to be taken to its logical extreme, this would entail a woman passing through the maternity ward of a hospital having a newborn baby boy crawling up her leg, biting through her belly, beginning to thrust up into her and then NEVER, EVER STOPPING.
To me, this makes the male Anglerfish, to a certain value of the words, one of the world's most terrifying penises.
Rejoice and be merry! Less than a month after the release of Luck be an Empty Vessel for my Poisonous, Flesh-Destroying Seed Tonight, comes the Newdog15's most politically-charged thriller of all time...
For this masterwork, I am joined by a dear friend, one Doctor Ultimo, who I have for some eight years now hoped to collaborate with creatively. Alas, for all his towering intellect and sparkling wit, never has his genius been committed to text in this form before. Frankly, I suspect that his never-ending one man war on his hated enemy, the wicked King of Portugal, has dominated so much of his time that such pursuits have been frankly impossible. With the completion of this work, however, he has tasted the sweet juice of the fruit of success and found it pleasing. Already he speaks of our next collaboration. I can only hope the oppressed people of Portugal can afford to go without their living folk hero for another few days in the near future.
Now, without further ado...
( Click, dear readers, and hear a tale of sinister foreign powers and the brave men who stand against them! )
It bears pointing out, it seems to me, in the interests of prudence, that the above link perhaps ought not to be clicked upon whilst at your workplace, as some of the images in the tale woven therein have some faintly sexual undertones, which - depending upon your employer - may not reflect favourably upon your place in the workforce.
In recent months, I have been forced to struggle against a home invasion by a menace seemingly born out of the most disturbed of fever-dreams and nightmares of madmen: That eternal scourge of mankind known as bedbugs. While it now seems that - at a cost of hundreds of dollars and many dozens of hours of work - this infestation has been purged from my home, I am aware that like any barbarians at the gates, they are ever ready to invade once again if I am anything short of eternally vigilant.
And while there is very little about these monsters which brings me any degree of comfort, there is one small, petty pleasure which their infestation has brought me: No matter how much pain their prolific breeding may have brought me, it is in some sense mirrored by the pain it has brought to the bedbugs themselves. For you see, the bedbug has one of...
( Enter the terrifying and incomprehensibly brutal world of the bedbug's sex life below the cut... )Imagine. if you have the courage, if you are at home with your siblings, who you have lived with since you hatched from your common clutch of eggs (go with me here), each of you enjoying yourselves in whatever manner best suits you. All of the sudden, one of your brothers stands up and, without warning, whips out his tool. No mere shaft of soft and pliant flesh and blood, though, this phallus is a wicked hook of chitin with a curved, scimitar-like blade of a tip.
Without any evident regard for your desire, family relationship or the particulars of your anatomy, he thrusts it brutally into your belly, piercing your skin and organs alike before depositing his DNA directly into the bloody wound in your abdomen. He then climbs off of you and immediately repeats the process with your brother. And then the family dog. If you can imagine this, you can in some small way imagine what it is to be a bedbug.
One of the keys to understanding bedbugs is that there is literally not one thing about them which is not completely horrifying and disgusting. Seemingly conjured from the gleefull imaginings of a demented sadist, they seem to challenge with their very existence the idea that nature is not in some way guided by some malevolent and unseen hand. For example, the bedbug female has a perfectly serviceable vagina and it is not out of the realm of possibility that they might occasionally be in the mood for lovin'. Neither of these facts are of any interest whatsoever to the bedbug male, however: At some point in their dim evolutionary past, they abandoned the approach to sex which involved genitals actually touching one another, and adapted the approach of essentially fucking the bedbug equivalent of the ovaries themselves in a process which science knows (with an uncharacteristic lack of softening tones) as "Traumatic Insemination".
This casual disregard for the presence or absence of a vagina seems to bring with it a certain sense of sexual liberation for the bedbug male; they can and will casually rape anything which is roughly bedbug sized that they can wrestle to the ground and maul with their sex organ, on the off chance that the thing they are screwing MIGHT be a bedbug female. Accuracy by volume, one supposes. Ants, silverfish, male bedbugs (and oh, more on THIS later), none are safe from the ravenous if indiscriminate ardour of the bedbug male. An incestuous, bisexual rapist with a taste for injury and bestiality... place on of these monsters in a pair of overalls, put a confederate flag in one of their clawed hands and set them to muttering angrily about their second amendment rights, and there would be nothing out of place or incongruous about this image whatsoever.
One might be given to wonder how this is not fatal to prospective bedbug mothers. The simple answer is that it often is. Infection and crippling injuries are not uncommon. Evolution has, however, fashioned the bedbug female with a small measure of protection; they have developed a small, vagina-like opening on their underbellies in roughly the spot where males tend to make their incision. The effectiveness of this adaptation is, however, imperfect, in that the male of the species takes no more interest in this pseudo-poon than in the genuine article. He is indeed as apt to stab his member through the belly of his mate to the immediate left or right of the opening as to hit the target at all.
And what of the males who fall victim to one another's advances? Here too, evolution has worked its cruel works. Since the sex organs of the male and female are located in roughly the same area of the body, the male who is raped will literally have his rapist's sperm injected into what amounts to his own balls, where they will join the sperm already present. As such, the next female the rape victim sexes up will get sperm from both her mate and the one who raped him. As such, natural selection favours those bedbug males most prone to frequent homosexual rape.
Not that there is any preference show between one gender and another (nor yet one species and another; I have noticed since the bedbugs arrived in my place that the silverfishes are all gone. I cannot help but wonder if they have all been raped to death by the bedbugs); they are equal-opportunity rapists. And given their tendency to rape one female after another, they have become keenly economical in their use of sperm. When a male has his way with a female, his penis demonstrates one of its most mind-shattering and overwhelming traits: It tastes the inside of its victim's anatomy, and should it taste the distinctive flavour of bedbug sperm already present, it will deliver somewhat less of its own, since there's that much less of a chance that this will be a successful mating.
Yes. In addition to everything else to boggle and offend the mind, the savage cock of the bedbug can taste the guts of its victim during the physical act of love. It is like unto a sword which is like unto a tongue which is like unto a penis. Imagine it. Imagine it.
And do take care to remember: Every cell of a bedbug's body is composed entirely of stolen human blood, since that is literally all that they consume. This endless walking horror-show is made entirely of stolen bits of your own body, now crawling about on six legs and committing its crimes against human sanity.
Just try to sleep soundly throughout the night knowing full well that this will surely be happening all around - and even upon - you while you slumber.
And understand where comes my comprehensive dread of these unimaginable abominations.
After the broad-ranging and enthusiastic appeal expressed in response to the first installment of this feature, it is impossible for me to imagine not going on to briskly produce a second installment. Let it not be said that a third and future intallment is not forthcoming, either; in my research, I have certainly discovered a host of phallic horrors lurking in some cases distressingly close at hand.
But for today's installment, we're going a little bit afield. Unless you live in Argentina or Chile, in which case, you will likely readily recognize our next specimen of genital gruesomeness quite readily. I speak, kind readers, of the Argentine Lake Duck:
Cute, huh? Funny little duck with a funny blue beak? That thing's adorable! Look at those little raindrops on its back! They're huge compared to it! The thing must be tiny! You could stick it in your pocket, and it would just quack adorably in there and be a funny little novelty pet, right?
Well that's because you can't see what lurks beneath the water... and nor yet what lurks beneath the cut.
( Read on, ye of stout heart and steadfast will... )
Last night, I had cause to look at my user profile here at Livejournal, and was pleasantly surprised to see that I was now on seventy-five friends lists. I was aware that there had been something of an upswing lately, but this was nevertheless rather dramatic. Indeed, it struck me as something of a milestone. Something which called for a celebration or commemoration of some sort.
But how to go about it? How to honour all of those visitors who come to read this journal? They come for so very many reasons. Some for my body painting artwork. Some for my comedy. Some for my philosophical musings. Some few who are friends and family. So how do I produce something which is fit and suitable for one and all, when their interests are so diverse? Their tastes so varied? And then, like a lightning bolt, it struck me:
Cocks.
Everyone loves cock, right? Be they men who enjoy owning and possessing them, women who do likewise, or lesbians who enjoy laughing at the whole arrangement, there's something there for everyone. And how better to cater to this universal pleasure than with a feature which I felt could best be called...
Ladies, imagine for a moment, if you would, if in the place of the gentle curvature of the male glans at the end of the member, there were instead a terrible clawed hand, at the tip of each of the fingers of which were sharp and curved talons, reaching out to you... reaching INTO you. Grasping hold, its sharp and muscular digits seizing your delicate inner workings, and beginning to vigorously thrust against them. No, you are not having a nightmare, and NOR is this Japan. This is the sex life of the female shark.
The great white shark is one of the most primordial and completely horrifying animals on earth; a dead-eyed and relentless killer which fills the nightmares of many a brave and noble human being. Is it any wonder that the manner in which it copulates should be at least as terrifying? The male shark's member (or members, as the case may be, for - as astute readers may have noted - there are TWO) is called a "clasper", for reasons which ought to be obvious: Their purpose is to clasp on to the lady parts of the shark's would-be mate. And not merely hold on to the outside for the sake of stability. Oh, no! But to hold on to the inner workings, and whilst in there, shoot its precious genetic load. The typical shark only uses one at a time (a redundancy which I think ought to earn it a bit of envy), but there is at least one species of shark which is at once both more enterprising and more kinky than most - the Tope Shark (Galeorhinus galeus) - which has been observed using both at once (a feat which I'm sure is the envy of a significantly lesser though non-zero number of male humans and a distressing thought for the preponderance of females).
The above picture is of a young and immature shark, and you will note that already it possesses male organs of a size and number sufficient to intimidate amongst the most hearty of human females. I assure you, they only get bigger with age. This photo did the rounds on the internet a year or so ago, with people ominously talking about a "mutant shark with two legs". Such is not the case, as was pointed out by Professor P.Z. Myers at his science blog, Pharyngula, but rather one of the deepest and most unsettling mysteries of the briny deep which is his abiding fascination. The deep, that is. Not the shark cocks.
That I know of.
Not that I'm judging.
Read and enjoy, dear friends. And do remember: This work, as with anything I ever have or ever shall present within the NewDog15 body of work, is quite spectacularly not safe for work.
( Read on, dear readers, read on! The bringer of jolity demands it! )
Speaking with my friend Ashley, about the fact that our mutual friend Ray isn't going to be able to make it to our game the very next day:
***
Ashley: "I told him, 'You have to call Dave and tell him you can't come', and he says 'I don't want to call Dave!'"
Me: "Because he lacks the courage and fortitude necessary to brave the laughter and giggles I bring to those who wrong me!"
Ashley: "That's right"
Me: "You're twice the man that he is, and you don't even have a penis!"
So, last night, I'm walking around, and I see a peculiar sight. Two slugs - and these are the archetypal Britissh Columbia slugs; seven inces long, dark brown and grey, and bloated - are intertwined with one another, hanging from a chord of white slime which is itself about a foot and a half long, connected at the top to an overhang of brick jutting from a wall.
Fascinated, I lean in closer. I'd never seen slugs doing this before. I inferred that they were mating, and, being the huge letch that I am and wanting something to beat off to later, I wanted a closer look. What I saw next may put me off mollussc erotica forever.
I note that one of them has a little white mass on the side of its head. I figure it's a little lump of the same stuff that chord was made of. Not so. For as I watch, it grows. And wriggles.
So now I'm thinking, "maybe I've got this whole slug reproduction thing mixed up. Maybe it's giving birth. That looks to me llke a tiny white slug coming out the side of its head". But only mammals give live birth, right? As I watch, a second, similarly wriggling translucent white tendril of slugflesh begins to emerge from the side of the head of the other slug. Now, this has really got me thinking. I mean, why would two interlocking slugs be giving birth at the same time? *** Entranced, I continue to watch, as these two ... tentacle things ooze their way about two to three inches out the aides of the heads of both slugs, and flail around a bit, before they find each other.
So, I keep watching, and as the two of them ball up, I see them tapering off towards the bodies of the... parents? I don't know. It looks like they're about to come out entirely. I think the tapering bits are just where the tails of the infants are tapering off. I'm still not clear as to what I'm seeing at this point.
A couple of minutes pass, and the ball of two white-translucent-tentacle maybe-baby-slug-monster-things write against one another, flaring out at odd points. Finally, the two slugs become more vigorous, and swiftly retract what I have now decided must be their unspeakably alien genitalia back into their heads. Their work complete, they then detatch from the chord they've been hanging from all this time, and slither away.
Slugs are wierd. I mean, I know that they're animals, and we're animals, and that lots of different animals reproduce in lots of different ways. But for fuck's sakes. That's just a really, really different approach there. I can accept fish just sort of spraying of genetic information at one another that fish do. I can accept the embarassment to mammal-kind which is the marsupial pouch. But this? This is a translucent white tentacle coming out the side of your fucking head. That's the most crazy-japan method of reproductin I've ever borne witness to in my fucking life.
And you know what else I've discovered? Okay, I knew that slugs are hermaphrodites. No surprise there. But apparently, some species of slugs will, during this process, BITE THE OTHER ONE'S TENTACLE-GENITAL OFF DURING SEX, AND THUS MAKE IT BY DEFAULT FEMALE! For fucksakes!
So here's what I propose: What we need to do is create a new kingdom of life, aside from plants, animals, fungi and such, JUST for slugs. That way they won't be a part of the same kingdom as I am. Do I hear any support out there?
I mean... white tentacle...!
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- Dave Littler's New Deal
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