- Joined
- Mar 3, 2019
Day 3: Scootypuff
Kiwitober 2021 - Inktober's autistic cousin - Thank you for a great one!
- Thread starter Celestine
- Start date
same deal because I'm bankrupt in terms of ideas.
Anyway, Day 4.
The motel was dirty
She would've been better, but bulge
Unfortunate pegging
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2018
Day 3 - Scootypuff ft. Johnathan Yaniv
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2019
- Joined
- May 5, 2020
Last edited:
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2021
Day 4: The Spicy
Also all of the artists in this thread are amazing, great shit all around
Weeb Slinger
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2019
Day 4: The Spicy
“The spiciest of all takes,”
announces Dick Masterson,
as he raises one inebriated finger,
“is snorting lines of chilli power
off the undeveloped chest
of the child actress from the
Netflix film 'Cuties'.
Across the studio,
entombed like
the Bat Cave
in the cavernous
subterranean recess
of Masterson's expansive
L.A. mansion,
Sean, the sound engineer
and exotic pet expert,
shifts nervously in
his animal corner,
which is actually
more of an alcove.
The rare, banded marmoset,
- that has fastened
herself to his neck,
in the mistaken belief
that its handler can
provide her with milk -
sensing his righteous
discomfort, emits a
faint quizzical snuffle
that stirs within the
obsolete womb of
Masterson's girlfriend,
Marie, the pangs of
motherhood, destined
never to be gratified.
Discretely, she dabs a tear
from the sun-weathered
leather of her cheek, while
she contemplates the
drawn-out decades
that lie ahead.
Far away, in his sealed room,
Vito sounds his approval
with drawling one-note
flatulence that slowly
tapers off.
“It doesn't have to be chilli powder,”
adds Masterson, his deviancy
warming to room temperature.
“It could be another spice, like
curry powder or peppermint!”
“In October it should be
pumpkin spice,” opines Vito.
“Yes, pumpkin spice is definitely
the most morally appropriate of
all the spices to be snorting off the
bare chest of an eleven-year-old girl,
using a rolled-up dollar bill, at
this time of year,” utters
Masterson, the degenerate.
“At Christmas, it should be
cinnamon, ginger and allspice
and the girl should wear either
reindeer antlers or an elf hat.”
Then, the banded marmoset
guided by a foundational
instinct to protect her offspring,
hardwired into her waning species'
DNA at the dawn of time,
bridles and leaps from her
handler's paternal half-embrace
marshalling the iron in her
blood, evolving razor-sharp
talons in mid-leap.
“My face! My tiny
half-Mexican face!”
yells Masterson, the
half-caste pervert, as he
reels backward in distress.
“My receding hairline
in retreat like the Mexican
army fleeing like rank
cowards from the
Sinaloa Cartel!”
Across the room,
Sean, ever the professional,
urges his friend and employer
to direct his dying screams
into the microphone.
In the bloody aftermath
there is only a faint
hiss as Masterson's
Hollywood-infected
soul, slowly exits
his body through a
tiny rupture in his
deflating ball-sack.
Marie, gathers up
the banded marmoset
in her arms.
Tenderly she wipes
the blood from its
talons, using a
citrus-scented wet wipe.
“You are my only
daughter,” she says.
“Your name is Isabella.
I pledge my life to
your protection.”
“The spiciest of all takes,”
announces Dick Masterson,
as he raises one inebriated finger,
“is snorting lines of chilli power
off the undeveloped chest
of the child actress from the
Netflix film 'Cuties'.
Across the studio,
entombed like
the Bat Cave
in the cavernous
subterranean recess
of Masterson's expansive
L.A. mansion,
Sean, the sound engineer
and exotic pet expert,
shifts nervously in
his animal corner,
which is actually
more of an alcove.
The rare, banded marmoset,
- that has fastened
herself to his neck,
in the mistaken belief
that its handler can
provide her with milk -
sensing his righteous
discomfort, emits a
faint quizzical snuffle
that stirs within the
obsolete womb of
Masterson's girlfriend,
Marie, the pangs of
motherhood, destined
never to be gratified.
Discretely, she dabs a tear
from the sun-weathered
leather of her cheek, while
she contemplates the
drawn-out decades
that lie ahead.
Far away, in his sealed room,
Vito sounds his approval
with drawling one-note
flatulence that slowly
tapers off.
“It doesn't have to be chilli powder,”
adds Masterson, his deviancy
warming to room temperature.
“It could be another spice, like
curry powder or peppermint!”
“In October it should be
pumpkin spice,” opines Vito.
“Yes, pumpkin spice is definitely
the most morally appropriate of
all the spices to be snorting off the
bare chest of an eleven-year-old girl,
using a rolled-up dollar bill, at
this time of year,” utters
Masterson, the degenerate.
“At Christmas, it should be
cinnamon, ginger and allspice
and the girl should wear either
reindeer antlers or an elf hat.”
Then, the banded marmoset
guided by a foundational
instinct to protect her offspring,
hardwired into her waning species'
DNA at the dawn of time,
bridles and leaps from her
handler's paternal half-embrace
marshalling the iron in her
blood, evolving razor-sharp
talons in mid-leap.
“My face! My tiny
half-Mexican face!”
yells Masterson, the
half-caste pervert, as he
reels backward in distress.
“My receding hairline
in retreat like the Mexican
army fleeing like rank
cowards from the
Sinaloa Cartel!”
Across the room,
Sean, ever the professional,
urges his friend and employer
to direct his dying screams
into the microphone.
In the bloody aftermath
there is only a faint
hiss as Masterson's
Hollywood-infected
soul, slowly exits
his body through a
tiny rupture in his
deflating ball-sack.
Marie, gathers up
the banded marmoset
in her arms.
Tenderly she wipes
the blood from its
talons, using a
citrus-scented wet wipe.
“You are my only
daughter,” she says.
“Your name is Isabella.
I pledge my life to
your protection.”
Last edited:
1 Guy 1 Taco
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Aug 28, 2021
Day 4:
He squeezed the shaft with two fingers. The tip opened wide and he peeked within its glorious, green hole. The tube was thinner than his normal snacks. How much pickled juice could possibly fit through such a tight urethra?
He didn't care. The fans were watching. He had shoved many'a hot peppers down his throat before. Nothing was too spicy for his throat hole.
He gripped the seeds as tight as he possibly could. He shoved the head into his mouth. He moaned a decadent moan of sublimity and horror.
And then the spicy came.
Russel Greer squirted his hot penis love juice into the gaping pits of Ralph's esophagus and the heat filled the room. No. It filled the universe. Mine own pants melted to thine socks whilst mine catheter filled with warm, sticky fluid.
Two hot stars collided in the infinity of the cosmos. Eons descended into chaos and the cycle of evolution repeated itself until God himself stepped down from his throne.
But my pants never dried.
No matter how many lives I live or virgins I save. I will never forget the spicy I witnessed that day.
- A Memoir of Joshua N. Moon 1967 p178
He squeezed the shaft with two fingers. The tip opened wide and he peeked within its glorious, green hole. The tube was thinner than his normal snacks. How much pickled juice could possibly fit through such a tight urethra?
He didn't care. The fans were watching. He had shoved many'a hot peppers down his throat before. Nothing was too spicy for his throat hole.
He gripped the seeds as tight as he possibly could. He shoved the head into his mouth. He moaned a decadent moan of sublimity and horror.
And then the spicy came.
Russel Greer squirted his hot penis love juice into the gaping pits of Ralph's esophagus and the heat filled the room. No. It filled the universe. Mine own pants melted to thine socks whilst mine catheter filled with warm, sticky fluid.
Two hot stars collided in the infinity of the cosmos. Eons descended into chaos and the cycle of evolution repeated itself until God himself stepped down from his throne.
But my pants never dried.
No matter how many lives I live or virgins I save. I will never forget the spicy I witnessed that day.
- A Memoir of Joshua N. Moon 1967 p178
- Joined
- Mar 3, 2019
Day 4: The Spicy
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2021
I didn't know what the spicy is so I tried drawing null as a pepper. I also only had dry erase markers because I'm at work. and I'm not actually super great at drawing people.
Sorry to subject you kind people to this. Edit: Added the second one
Sorry to subject you kind people to this. Edit: Added the second one
Attachments
Last edited:
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2021
Hongourable Madisha
You see, some of us don't know English properly.
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2019
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2021
You sir are a scholar and a gentleman. A fucking plus.Day 4: The Spicy
View attachment 2594781
Also all of the artists in this thread are amazing, great shit all around
- Joined
- Feb 16, 2021
- Joined
- Jan 31, 2019
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2019
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2013
Day 4- The Spicy!
(I'm having spicy noodles for lunch as I'm posting this, lol. There's nothing quite as concerning as having Nick make you hungry!)
(I'm having spicy noodles for lunch as I'm posting this, lol. There's nothing quite as concerning as having Nick make you hungry!)
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2021
day 4 : spicy
i burned an len'en alive.
- Joined
- Jan 21, 2021
hairazor
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- May 28, 2020
Day 4: The Spicy Sweet Banana Peppers as prepared by Chef Josh for his Subway sandwich.
