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Based on a True Story!, Celebrity Erotica

Fishsticks (18+)

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This story is not appropriate for children because of the massive amounts of gratuitous hot nasty narcissism contained within. If you’re under 18 please leave this page and go poop in your diaper.

Kanye West ran his fingers across Kanye West’s chin, feeling his rough but perfect stubble. Hundreds of nubile servant girls waited outside in the hallways of Kanye’s palace, but to Kanye, Kanye was the only the person that mattered.

He bashfully reached out his fingers, brushing them softly against the downy feathers of Kanye’s wings. Kanye shuddered at the ecstasy imparted by the touch. It was forbidden for anyone to touch the wings of an angel such as he, and now he understood why. Overcome by pleasure, however, he didn’t care.

“I’m gonna fuck you like a pharaoh,” he breathed, “I’m gonna put your pussy in a sarcophagus.”

Kanye West was the voice of this generation, and that voice was sweet as honey to Kanye West’s ears. He reached down and unbuckled Kanye’s belt. As he slid Kanye’s pants down his legs, his eyes widened and he gasped in shock.

“No one man should have all that POW-ah,” he swore softly to himself.

Kanye took his hand and stared deeply into his eyes.

“Tonight,” he said, “I’ma let you finish.”

Now That's Just Silly

The First Time

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“I’m a little nervous,” she said, frowning a little. “I’ve never done this before.”

“To tell you the truth, me either,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh!” she said, brightening considerably, “Well that makes me feel a lot better.”

“Why?” he laughed, “It makes me a hell of a lot more nervous to know neither of us know what we’re doing.”

“Well,” she said, grinning devilishly, “At least I know if something goes wrong it’s not my fault.”

“I guess that’s true,” he laughed.

“Besides,” she said, “It can’t be that hard. Total morons manage to do it just fine all the time.”

“Maybe it’s because they don’t think too hard about it,” he said, “We might think too hard about it and mess it up.”

“I guess that could happen,” she said.

“It’s something that has to be done though,” he said.

“Oh definitely,” she said, “It’s not something that you can just not do.”

“And you know, with you, I just…it just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed, “I wouldn’t be able to do it by myself after all.”

“Well, I guess we should get it over with,” he said, sighing.

He turned back to her car and stared at the front wheel. “Let’s get this tire changed.”

Now That's Just Silly

How Terminator: Salvation Should Have Been

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(Author’s Note: I have to give credit to my friend Emmett for this too, because this is based on a conversation we had.)

Terminator: Salvation was a pretty cool movie, but I think it would have been a lot better if John Connor didn’t know that Kyle Reese was his father. Mainly because they could have included this scene:

After destroying one of Skynet’s major factories, JOHN CONNOR and a group of soldiers — including KYLE REESE — are celebrating by getting completely wasted. While babbling about being the chosen one and gesturing furiously,  John accidentally drops a picture of his mother on the table. A soldier picks it up.

Soldier: Hey, who’s this?

John: Nothing, that’s no one, give it back.

Soldier: She’s kinda hot, dude. Do we need to tell your girlfriend about this?

John: That’s my mom, you assholes, now give it back.

Soldier: Whoa! That’s your mom? Lucky!

Kyle Reese takes the picture and looks at it for a long while. He then looks up at John with all seriousness.

Kyle: I’m gonna fuck your mom, John.

John: Dude, shut up.

Kyle: No, seriously.

John: She’s been dead for more than 10 years, dickhead.

Kyle: No man, you know that time machine we found in Skynet’s lab? I’m totally gonna use that to go back in time and bone your mom.

John: Seriously. Shut up.

Kyle: I’m gonna go back in time and you know what I’m gonna say to her?

John: Oh God no. Kyle, don’t say it.

Kyle: “Cum with me if you want to live.”

Continual Story

Dead and Dirty in Dubai Part 7: Sexy Hotel Rendezvous

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(Just joining us? Go back to the beginning of the story.)

Billy walked out of the bar into the main lobby of the hotel, zombie chick in tow. He spotted Alex, who was looking around the room in a panic.

“Well now what’s the problem here?” asked Billy.

“There’s a bunch of sex freaks outside,” Alex said, “And pretty soon they’re gonna be in here! We gotta get out!”

Billy took a look out the front door, which had been shoddily barricaded by Alex. The zombies outside were humping the door furiously in an attempt to get in.

“Well now y’all just calm down,” Billy said, kneeling, “We gotta pray to the Baby Jesus for strength.”

Alex looked around the lobby in a panic as Billy prayed. “We can’t go out the front, I guess we gotta break into one of the rooms and get out the window that way,” Alex said, rushing at one of the doors, trying to break it open.

“Hey now calm down son!” shouted Billy, “Don’t go breakin’ those doors down! I own this place!” He took a key out of his pocket and calmly unlocked the door.

Alex ran to the window and looked out. He gasped in horror as he saw Jenny running towards the hotel. “Look, those perverts are chasing that woman! We gotta save her!”

“Alright,” Billy said, “I guess that would be ’bout the most polite thing to do.”

Billy’s date said nothing, but stood in the room drooling on herself.

Continual Story

Dead and Dirty in Dubai Part 5: Indiana Jonesing

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(Just joining us? Go back to the beginning of the story.)

In the middle of the city square, a group of zombies rushed from the west to the east, growling and snarling and clawing, blood dripping from their mouths.

On the eastern side of the city square, a more colorfully dressed group of zombies rushed towards the west, moaning and groaning and pelvic thrusting, something entirely different dripping from their mouths.

The two groups met in the center, a frenzy of destruction. Zombies scratched and clawed at zombies who mounted and humped other zombies.

Suddenly, both groups were scattered as a jeep plowed through the center, rendering zombies of both types into colorful stains on the ground.

Inside sat the famous archeologist Jenny Zaland, her driver José, and assistant Phil.

“Remind me again why we had to come back into the city?” asked José.

“Those relics in my hotel room are priceless. We can’t let them be destroyed,” Jenny told him for the thirtieth time.

“Watch out!” shouted Phil, as José swerved around a group of undead women who had planted themselves in the road and were hiking up their skirts at the passing car.

“Those artifacts we found at the site could change the course of world history,” Jenny continued. “We’ve got to get them somewhere where they can be properly studied.”

“Why’d you store them in your hotel room anyway?” grumbled Phil.

As the jeep passed an alleyway, they were suddenly ambushed by a group of sexy zombies who pounced on the car and began drooling on the windshield. José screeched and turned the wheel, causing the car to flip. Jenny was thrown out of the car, but miraculously landed in a soft pile of rotting bodies. José and Phil were not so lucky, though. The car hit a wall and caught on fire. The zombies approached the two, desire in their eyes.

“Shit,” Jenny muttered, climbing out of the pile of bodies. She noticed her archeological pick had been thrown out of the car as well and was lying in the road in front of her. Unfortunately, as she bent over to pick it up she attracted the attention of a particularly perverted zombie who happened to be nearby. He pointed at her and shouted, and she took off running towards the hotel, several randy zombies in pursuit.

Continual Story

Dead and Dirty in Dubai Part 4: Zombie Barflies

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(Just joining us? Go back to the beginning of the story.)

 

Billy sat in the bar of the hotel, a drink in his hand. He was depressed. His investment had turned out to be a total waste of money. It had destroyed Dubai. Hell, he might even go to prison for it.

The bartender came up to him and put an apple juice in front of him. “It’s from her,” he said, jerking a thumb towards a previously unnoticed woman in the corner.

Billy took a flask out of his pocket and poured some liquor into the apple juice. “That’s more like it,” he said to himself as he walked over to the woman. “So, you come here often?”

“Hey,” she said.

After a moment of awkward silence, his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Billy, it’s the Colonel.”

“Hey.”

“Listen, I’m safe in a bunker underneath the facility.”

The woman began to drool on Billy’s shoulder.

“If you can make it here,” continued the Colonel, we can let you in the bunker and we can wait out this nightmare. Together.”

The woman began to groan and paw at Billy. “Hold on,” he told her.

“That sounds great,” he told the Colonel, “Can I bring a friend along?”

“Oh, sure,” said the Colonel, sounding a bit dejected, “The more survivors the better.”

The woman began to nibble on Billy’s neck. “Stop that,” he told her, “I’m on the phone!”

“Anyway,” the Colonel said, “If you can make it here soon that’d be great, it’s kinda lonely down here…”

Billy shut off his phone.

Continual Story

Dead and Dirty in Dubai Part 3: Anarchy in the UAE

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(Just joining us? Go back to the beginning of the story.)


Across the city, Alex Patterson — a young, hippy-looking man in his early 20s — stood outside the brand new Stately Hotel, protesting. Over the past few days he had noticed some strange things, like buildings collapsing, explosions and fires, or just how weird people have been acting. Today though, nobody else had shown up to protest with him. He flipped open his phone and called one of his friends.

“Hey,” Alex said, “Where are you? I can’t overthrow capitalism on my own!”

“I’m sick,” the friend said, “Not to mention have you not noticed the chaos taking over the city?”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Alex said, “It means anarchy is winning, I think?”

As Alex was speaking, he felt a hand resting lightly on his shoulder in a provocative manner.

“Hello?” Alex said, turning around, “Are you here to help with the protest?”

“Yes…” groaned the man behind him.

“Great! Here, I’ve got some flyers you can hand out,” Alex said, pushing the flyers into the man’s hands, “But I don’t know how well it will work out, the people around here don’t really seem that interested in anything.”

“Are you interested?” asked the man.

“Oh yes, we’re interested,” growled the people nearby, advancing on Alex. He laughed nervously.

“Well this is great! We can all stand here and protest this hotel then…”

The people moved closer and closer, eventually standing in a huge circle around Alex. They began putting their hands on him and touching him inappropriately.

“Hey, you know, maybe afterwards,” he said, “But uh, right now I’d like to keep my mind on the job?”

The people said nothing, but continued to surround him, becoming more vigorous with their movements.

“Hey look,” Alex said, panicking, “You all are really nice and all, you know, but I think maybe we should have dinner first, get to know each other or something.” He broke out of the crowd and ran into the hotel.

It was worse than anyone thought. These weren’t just zombies. They were sexy zombies.

Based on a True Story!

Rest Stops Aren’t Really Very Restful

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blow job, the door of the stall said, flash lights three times. How the hell does that one work? Some whore hangs around this rest stop all day every day waiting for someone to catch her message and flash their lights? Bullshit. If anyone’s hanging around waiting for someone to flash their lights they’re not gonna give you a blow job. That’s for sure.

I step out of the stall door and walk over to the sink and squeeze some god-knows-what chemical mix they call soap out into my hand. I’m struck with dread as no water comes out of the faucet when I turn it on. My worst fear is squeezing soap into my hand and then finding out the water’s been cut off. What the hell are you supposed to do then?

Outside the restroom are a pair of asian men, babbling to each other in some unintelligible language. I always hate being around people who speak a different language. You can never tell when they’re talking about you.

“Jesus Christ,” Stevens mutters as I slip into the passenger seat, “What the hell are they standing around for? Why the hell would anyone stand around at some goddamn rest stop?”

“Flash your lights three times,” I tell him.

“Why?” he asks, but does it anyway.

The asians stop talking and look at us.

“Well shit,” I muse, “It just might work.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asks suspiciously as he watches the asians get into their car and drive off. “Look at that, they weren’t even waiting for anyone. What the fuck were they doing?”

“What the fuck are we doing?” I ask as a police cruiser exits the highway and drives towards us. “Damn pigs saw us flash the signal. They’re after us now.”

He starts up the car and starts to drive away.

“Act casual,” I warn him.