Unicorn Sightings on the Rise; Some are Concerned

There has been an alarming increase in unicorn sightings over the past three years. Biologists are baffled as to why. For conservative religious leaders, the rise of homosexual rights and acceptance is to blame. To quote Glad Tidings Universal Church leader and reverend, Blake Crust, “It’s all that gay stuff coming to roost”

For the most part, the sightings have been mostly non-violent. A teen was gored by the single horn of a male unicorn after being dared to simulate manual sexual stimulation on said horn. In the South, another man was trampled to death after shouting “faggot horse” at a unicorn. Besides these isolated incidents, most people report feeling joy or mirth after a sighting.

There has been growing concern for the safety of unicorns, though. Hateful Facebook pages have been flagged and reported en masse. Posts promoting violence and denigrating memes abound in these groups. Pro-Trump groups are unanimously aligned with anti-unicorn factions. Russ Bred, pro-Trump tweeting juggernaut started the popular hashtag #queerponiesdontmaga

Authorities have asked for the public’s help in reporting such groups or pages across social media platforms.

Most people are accepting of unicorns and welcome them. Some see them as a good omen for things to come. No unicorns have come forward for comment. The consensus is they are pro-human. There is a lot more to be learned about the unicorn and scientists are hard at work trying to quench our thirst for knowledge of the divine creature.

Editorial note:

This reporter believes we should embrace the unicorn. They represent everything that is splendid and sublime about our vast universe. There is space for the unicorn and man to exist side by side.

Tonight’s the Night!

 

 

[NSFW] *Note from the author: This story is a little raunchy. If you have delicate sensibilities, it may be wise to move on, otherwise, please enjoy.

 

Tonight was the night Stan had been waiting for since he signed himself up as a participant months ago on Facebook. The event billed itself as the largest orgy North Dakota has ever seen. Stan’s interest in orgies peaked when he saw some graphic videos at the tender age of thirteen.

Stan had no plans for the day, until 8:00pm, the start time. He figured he’d need his stamina so he decided to take an early run before breakfast. On his run, Stan saw a pair of the most beautiful women in spandex leggings. He ran behind them for an extra mile as to not lose his privileged view, even though it meant him going out of his way to do so.

This stimulation was too much for Stan. Upon arrival in his home, he immediately ran to the upstairs bathroom and released his sticky tension into the sink while thinking about those two bodacious bouncing butts that he dutifully trailed. He figured he’d be ok, the event wasn’t for hours and besides, “taking a bullet out of the chamber” would help him last longer, later.

Stan finished his breakfast and thought about how he could kill more than ten hours. He knew he’d have to be careful about getting excited. He needed to save his virility for the orgy.

He went to his room to play video games. He scored a touchdown in a college football game. Cartoon cheerleaders flashed on the screen with exaggerated sensuality and even more exaggerated proportions. This got Stan thinking about the orgy. Before he knew what he was doing, his shorts were down and he was depositing more DNA into a tissue, though considerably less than the first time. That’s ok, he thought, he had hours to recuperate.

After lunch, he got a text from a girl he was flirting with in his Economics class. She said her parents were out of the house and asked if he would like to come over. After a hard fought mental debate with himself, he agreed.

Almost as soon as he arrived he realized he wasn’t there to talk about the finer points of Adam Smith’s invisible hand. She led him to the hot tub, already running, on the back porch, clad in a bikini. They made out for a while and then she slid her hand under the bubbles. She was surprised to find him softer than a cone of ice cream in the hot July sun. He told her he was nervous because he found her so attractive and he had been dreaming of this moment and he couldn’t believe it was coming true. After some serious coaxing, she was able to get him just stiff enough for entrance, where in turn he immediately orgasmed.

He apologized to his disappointed lover and went home. He was a little worried at this point. There were only a few hours until the orgy and he had already had three orgasms that day; the last one being embarrassingly unimpressive.

He took a nap and upon awakening, reached for his cell phone. He flipped through Facebook and Instagram. He came across one of his favorite fitness models and lurked her page for a while. Without consciously realizing it, he was rubbing himself.

As if on some kind of pervert autopilot, he had already clicked over to a porn site and was going to town on his barely erect self. He caught himself in mid-stroke when he thought, “What am I doing? The orgy is tonight!” He couldn’t help himself, though. Stopping at this point would be like taking a steak from the jaws of a famished pit-bull. He finished with a dribble and lamented over it for a while.

As 8:00pm neared, Stan agonized over how he was going to perform after what he had done over the course of the day. Furthermore, he was quite drained and didn’t even feel like going. 8:00 struck and Stan made up his mind. He wasn’t going if it was just to make a fool of himself.

He watched a movie and decided to go to bed. He brushed his teeth and lay down. He looked at Facebook for some time and realized he wasn’t all that sleepy. There was one thing he could do in this situation. He went to his “go to” porn site and typed “orgy”. As the video loaded all he could think was “What is wrong with me?”

 

 

 

The Long Way Home

*note from author: I debated long and hard if I should post this or not. If you choose to read on, you´ll see it is pretty graphic. X rated, even. A part from a few details in setting, the story is fiction despite the opening line. I really want to make that clear. The exercise was to write a fist person, raunchy story. With that said, reader discretion is advised.

The following story is factually true. Take into consideration it is being told through the distorted lens of a drunken teenage boy. Seventeen years already has history distorting powers. Let´s take into consideration the alcoholic soup the story swims in. Reader discretion advised. Enjoy.

It started off as a typical Friday night. Warm ups included whatever was the cheapest thirty pack of beer the store had to offer and taking turns on the gravity bong. The gravity bong for the uninitiated is simply the most ridiculous homemade device for smoking marijuana. Google it. Ours was a one gallon milk jug in a bucket of water. The same bucket we used to clean the house. Who am I kidding, the house never got cleaned.

We were good and wrecked when somebody suggested we go to frat row in down town New Brunswick, New Jersey to “get fucked up”. We were all attending an educational establishment too embarrassing to mention here, so we piggy backed the party scene at Rutgers University. We decided I was not sober enough to drive so someone else, who was probably equally inebriated but could hide it better, did.

At this stage of my life, Friday and Saturday nights had two purposes. Get wasted on whatever I could get my hands and cumming. The former happened regularly, the latter, at least at the hands of others, not so much. We got to the party and I set my internal radar on drugs, alcohol and any girl with self esteem low enough to touch me. On this fortunate night, I scored on all three fronts.

As I said, full recollection of this story is impossible but some things are still clear. The girl I struck up a conversation with was blond, so skinny she could elicit pity and had awful teeth. I remember the teeth because this is a pet peeve of mine, but I was talking and she was listening so I looked away. I remember playing a few rounds of beer pong when she suggested we find somewhere a little more private to enjoy each other´s company.

The Rutgers frat houses are strange structures. They are the old mansions of Johnson and Johnson executives from a century gone by. They are full of little hidden hallways, staircases and rooms that are hard to imagine what purpose they once served. We found an unoccupied room that only fit a bunk bed. You had to contort you body just to get into the thing. Bingo! We found our love nest.

We started making out and I managed to get her clothes off. She was too drunk to get mine off so I was obliged to help. I don´t remember much from this passionate encounter but I remember a few things. First, we did not have sex. As you will see, it would have better if we had because I would have been able to break her evil spell, get away from her and the rest of the night would not have gone down the way it did. We were then interrupted by a chubby fellow and told to leave the ex slave´s quarters immediately.

I pretended to like her for a few more hours with the hopes that she would make that sneezey feeling in my crotch that seemed to be the focus of my life. The party was winding down and I noticed my ride had left. She offered her place to crash. What a coincidence. I wish I could give more details of what happened next but I really don´t remember.

I do doubt we had intercourse because no black out is stronger than an orgasm. No matter how drunk or high I was, I remember them all and file them to be later used in search of manual relief. When I refer to this night in my mind, a message comes up “file empty”. But the story does not end here.

I woke up in a strange place. I was cold. In fact I was shivering. I pulled the covers over my shoulders. Colder yet. What gives. I looked around. I was clearly in a girl´s room but there was no girl. I put my hand down on the mattress. I realized what had happened. Exactly what I feared most as a twelve year old when I slept over at friend´s houses had happened. I made water in her bed, Miss Daisy. It was a gusher too. Everything was wet. My mind raced despite the pounding headache. I thought about gathering my things and jumping out the window. We were on the third story.

I did what any honorable man in my position would do. I pulled my jeans over my pissed in underwear, put the rest of my clothes on and went down stairs. She didn´t even look up from the television. This I remember as if it were yesterday. I told it was fun and it was nice to have met her. I even remembered my manners and told her she had a lovely home despite the fact it looked like a future hoarders episode. It was a few years away from that but that´s ok because the show hadn´t been invented yet. Like the gentlemen I was, I offered my phone number. She told me to write it on the dry erase board on the fridge. It had the grocery list and I felt bad about erasing it so I left it alone.

This was an age before cell phones. I had no cash for a cab and not even the bus. I was a good five miles from where I lived. Talk about walk of shame? This was the Bataan Death March of shame. I put my head down low and took that walk. I threw up a few times along the way but I made it. I was greeted with a round of high fives. I regaled them with my tale and I was awarded the “green hit” from the gravity bong for my troubles.

Heavy Question, Simple Mind

“Energy drinks! We need to get some energy drinks!” Brad said excitedly.

Jeff paused for a moment soaking in the irony of such and energetic person making such a claim. “You´re too damn hyper as it is, man. Let´s just get a few beers and get out of here”

I want vodka and energy drink. We can get the generic brand. It´s cheap. That with the plastic squeeze bottle of Popov will be cheaper than a twelve pack and get us much more wasted”

Jeff had to admit, he had a point and neither of them had a lot of money on them nor had many prospects for changing that situation.

“Instead of getting drunk tonight, maybe we should do us somethin that´ll make us a little money” Jeff said.

The two looked at each other and started to crack up in the middle of the supermarket.

“Let´s get the damn booze and get the hell out of here” Brad said. “I don´t want to get to the party too late, all the slutty chicks will be with someone already”

Jeff silently agreed and steered them towards the liquor section.

A few moments later the transaction was made and they were on the road mixing a strong communal drink in a discarded McDonald´s cup that Jeff found under his seat.

After taking a deep sip, making a twisted face of horror from the burning sensation in this throat and extending the cup to his good friend since childhood, he pondered aloud “You ever wonder what this is all about? Like why we are here? I´m sure it ain´t to drink cheap vodka and try to make out with girls who are probably worse people than we are”

“Don´t think about it one bit” Brad said honestly.

“Never?” Jeff asked.

“Never. Don´t cross my mind. I think we´s just here to be here. Asking why? Ain´t no point in that” Brad added.

“Ain´t no point in drinking cheap vodka and hooking up with skanky girls neither, now is there?” Jeff said. He took another long deep sip. This time there was no burning. The first sip had already anesthetized  him.

“I guess not” Brad said, getting slightly irritated.

“Fuck it. Let´s put on some music” Jeff offered, noticing the irritation in Brad´s voice.

“That´s more like it! Crank it up!” Brad said, all anger blowing out the window along with the first few puffs of smoke from his freshly lit cigarette.

The party was exceptionally good. Although there weren´t the most attractive women in the world, there were plenty of them and they most certainly weren´t the kind that use good judgment when making decisions.

Brad started sweet talking a woman who could be described as a human sausage for she tried to squeeze much more body than she should have into a younger, thinner woman´s clothes. They started kissing on the couch and Brad suggested they find a place with more privacy. She obliged and they headed upstairs.

They found themselves on the smallest bed in the house. It was the host´s four year old daughter´s room. The question Jeff proposed kept echoing in Brad´s head. What was the point of all this?

As things progressed, she asked if Brad had a condom. Of course he didn´t and she said she didn´t mind. She couldn´t get pregnant anyway. She mentioned something about a botched surgery involving a severe case of HPV.

As the woman started to undo Brad´s pants it was painfully obvious that Brad´s manhood was not as into this fine woman as much as Brad´s cheap vodka soaked brain was.

“What´s the matter hun? Drink too much?” she asked.

Brad was aloof. What was the goddamn point of all this? Jeff ruined his night. He apologized, put the rest of his clothes back on and just left the party. He didn´t even tell Jeff he was leaving.

Three months later Brad was at an AA meeting receiving a chip symbolizing 90 days of not drinking. He just shared how frustrated he was by his day at his work training program but that he was grateful that he was able to resist the urge to go to the liquor store and continue on his new path. He still hadn´t talked to Jeff since that night he proposed that heavy question. Brad was no closer to having an answer either but he felt that maybe, just maybe if he lowered his head and pushed through life, a hint would come his way.

 

The Older Woman

There she lay, glistening in a sensual sizzle. The straps of her bikini undone, dangling from the sides of her folding chair tempting him in a way that brought physical pain to his loins.

He watched her from the kitchen window. She was getting her afternoon sun on her well worked body. His teenage erection was completely unhidden in his knee length basketball shorts, sans underwear. The feeling of the silky fabric rubbing on him every time he moved his hips made it difficult for him to stand still. He looked like a novice hula dancer swaying his hips so erratically.

Her body was perfect and not just for a woman of her age, though she wore her 50 years fabulously, but for a woman of any age. A rare mix of great genetics and vanity, she took very good care of herself. She had no idea that she had an audience at the moment.

His vision was going in and out of blurry spells, the fire so stoked in his loins. He couldn´t take it. He needed release. He promised himself he wouldn´t do this anymore. He had asked his pastor if this behavior was all right and as he expected, was told no. He prayed to make these feelings go away. But they didn´t. It did not help that prayer time was so close to same time where he was left alone with his thoughts in the dark. With no one around. No one watching.

He asked God to forgive him one more time as he reached for the cooking oil. He splashed a little in his palm. It was enough. In fact, it was unnecessary as there was enough Cowper’s fluid accumulated that it looked as though he had wet himself a little.

He reached into his shorts and almost instantly a wave of delicious shame pulsated through his body. He felt amazing and awful as his eyes fluttered and became difficult to keep open. He even uttered an audible ‘uh’. His knees went weak and then he felt panic. She was tying her bikini up. She was coming inside.

The orgasm hadn´t even fully finished and she was steps away from the back door. He didn´t know what to do so he and his handful of shame opened the door to the basement. He didn´t even think about turning on the light. He just stumbled down the stairs into the musty darkness.

“What do you want for lunch” called the voice of the once object of his deepest desire.

A shaky voice came from the darkness of the basement. “Nothing, Mom.”

Happy Birthday!

 

“Did you ever imagine what triggers an orgasm?” Jake asked as he took pulled his face inches away from Ashley`s between kisses.

“I like to believe that they are little explosions ignited by angels” Ashley answered.

“Good answer” he whispered as his mouth went back to hers.

All of a sudden there was a loud “What the fuck” heard in the background and the door flew open with a crash.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” Ashley asked.

“What the fuck are you doing there?” Bill asked right back.

Jake saw that he was giving up at least fifty pounds to Bill, mostly in the form of muscle, panicked and went for the window.

“Oh no you don’t you little shit!” Bill said. He crossed the room with surprising speed and agility for a man of his size. His large, strong hand crashed down on Jake’s bare shoulder pulling him back into the room. “You ain’t going nowhere” he said. With a twist of pleasure in his voice he said  “Your mine”

Jake was trembling. His knees felt weak. He could barely stand on his own. He collapsed into a ball of naked, bony flesh and meticulously messy hair.

Bill stood over him and started undoing his pants. Ashley screamed very unconvincingly “No, don’t do it Bill”

“This here little feller likes to fuck married people, then he’s gonna fuck married people”

Bill took out his lustful rage on Jake for three full minutes until angels detonated his orgasm.

Bill then went rooting through his pants looking for his cigarettes.  When he found them he offered one to Jake and said “No hard feelings there, little feller?” Jake just stared into nothingness. He looked catatonic.

Ashley then said to Bill “Happy Birthday honey! I knew you’d like him. He’s got that spikey hair you like so much”

“Ah, love, you sure do know me” he said as he took a long pull on his cigarette.

Christian Chicks

 

“Why are you always going after Christian girls, Tony?” Nick asked.

“Well, I figure, they already beleive in stupid shit, so it is easy to convince them to come to bed with me” Tony replied matter of factly, as if he has been rehearsing this answer for some time.

“I never thought of it that way. But don’t they get all moral on you when things start to get hot and heavy?” Nick asked.

“Not really. You see, most of these Christian chicks are pretty messed up. If they didn’t have Jesus in thier life, they’d probably be drunks or drug users. So in that way, they have that thrill seeking gene. They get all Jesus upped at church on the weekend the same way some chicks get all decked out and sloppy at a club. During the week, the club chick don’t think about the club and the Christian girl don’t think about Jesus until Sunday. They are pretty similar in that way. But the Christians chicks are clean.”

“Wow, you got it all figured out, don’t you Tony” Nick said with admiration in his voice.

“Of course not. But it works for me” Tony said.

“I just have one more question. Don’t you feel bad that you are condemning them to a future of eternity in hell?” Nick asked.

With that question, Tony let out a roaring laugh that was so contagious that Nick couldn’t help but join him.

 

What’s in the Egg?

 

It was a normal school day and Brian and Chris were in the kitchen having breakfast as their mother was getting ready for work upstairs. They each had a bowl of cereal, a glass of juice and a hardboiled egg. This was normal school day morning fare.

Brian was his usually quiet self. He was taking their parents separation much harder. It was him, after all, who caught his mother felating his father’s best friend in a parked car at the supermarket and told anybody who would listen. He still felt guilty for breaking them up. Chris, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. If ignorance is bliss, Chris passed through life in ecstasy. He was a probably just an I.Q. point or two higher from being deemed a clinical moron.

Chris might not be that bright, but he was warm and lived off of human contact. He was always trying to engage his brother Brian. He would ask nonstop mundane questions just to feel a connection. He looked over at Brian and noticed a peculiar look on his face. Brian had somehow managed to break a perfectly circular opening in his hardboiled egg and was intensely staring into it. His face looked almost as if it were in a trance.

“What’s in the egg” Chris asked. There was no answer. Chris didn’t think much of it as Brian usually is stingy with answers. He went back to crunching away his cereal. A few moments past and he noticed that Brian had not moved and was with the same exact expression, staring into the egg.

“Hey man, what’s so interesting about that egg?” Chris asked again. Brian didn’t even sway. His muscles were locked into place as his stare was pulled into the small circle on the top of the egg. Chris’s tone changed a little. There was a little worry in it this time. “Brian. What’s going on? What’s in the egg?” No response. Chris started to get a weird feeling and goose bumps chased each other up and down his legs and arms as he looked at the face of his brother.

“Let me see” Chris said as he started to lean over Brian’s egg. Whack. The bottom of Brian’s palm struck his forehead before he got even close enough to get a peak. Brian did not take his stare away from the head the whole time. His eyes remained fixed on the contents of the egg.

“You’re freaking me out” Chris said. “I am going to tell mom”

Chris was confused as he walked up the steps. He heard the blow dryer going in the bathroom. He banged on the door. “Mom” he said. No answer. He banged again. “Mom” he repeated. Just more blow drying, but no answer. There was something odd about the sound of the blow dryer. It was steady. As if it was on but not moving around. Chris was getting really freaked out. He opened the door.

He could have never been prepared for what he saw. Not in a million years. His mother was lying naked on the floor with the cord of the hair dryer around her neck. Her face was blue. Chris did not need to check to know that she was dead. He ran back down to the kitchen screaming for Brian.

When he got to the kitchen, Brian was gone. But the egg remained on the table. Chris had the wherewithal to take a look inside. He slowly walked over to the table. Each step was laborious; his feet seemed to weigh a ton. As he leaned over the table and his eye sight was fixed into the perfect circle of the egg, his world went black.

 

An Unfortunate Chain of Events Pt. IV

Francine could not believe what she was hearing. With that question, her world collapsed in on itself. Jim was staring at her with a glazed icy stare. This was not the man she fell in love with in high school behind those eyes. Finally she mustered the energy to ask the question, “Jim, who are you?”

This sent Jim into a rage. “Who am I? Who am I, you ask? I’m the guy who gave up his life to come back to the shit hole because you wanted to! I am the guy who has no friends, no career and no future, because of you! Who am I?…”

“Jim”, she said, “We made the decision together to come back here! You wanted this just as much as me. You told me you wanted kids. We agreed that it would be better to be near family.”

“You made the decision!” Jim was now on his feet, somewhat swaying rhythmically as if small breezes were holding him up from all angles. “I had nothing to do with that decision”. Jim was speaking on mental autopilot because all he could think about was the fact that his child support payments would be based on his new salary and that this would lead to a fairly miserly existent in a city as expensive as New York. He had to make this problem go away.

“Don’t think for a second that I would do anything to harm our baby! There is a life growing inside of me now. You have to decide what you are going to do with your life. But I am going to stay here and raise our baby!” she put a lot of emphasis on the word our.

Jim started for the door and Francine let out a shriek, “Where are you going?”

“Out. I need to think” was all he said. He fumbled with his keys in the driveway and opened the door to the car. Francine followed him.

“Get out of the car and talk to me! Besides, I can smell alcohol on you, you’ll get  arrested for sure!” her hand was in the frame of the door when Jim slammed it shut. Francine screamed, “Open the door! My hand is stuck” Jim did even notice. He put the car in neutral and slowly started coasting down the driveway, unbeknownst to him that Francine was being dragged. She was screaming frantically.

Finally he noticed and jerked the emergency brake and opened the door. Three of Francine’s fingers were bleeding. “Look what you did, you dumb bitch!” Jim said.

Francine was screaming in pain and crying hysterically. A few neighbors had poked their heads out to see what the commotion was.

Jim, with his head on a swivel surveyed them and yelled “Fuck you all. Go back to your stupid lives you assholes. There is nothing to see here.”

Francine started to feel feint from all of the pain and slowly sat down on the grass. At that moment, Jim slammed the door and was off.

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An Unfortunate Chain of Events Pt. III

Francine raced home to tell Jim the good news. Jim was already celebrating his good news by opening an expensive bottle that was given to him as a going away present when he left the firm in New York. His usual afternoon buzz was about to be taken up a notch.

Jim kept going over in his head the details of his new life in New York and how great it was going to be again. The Thursday nights going out to the clubs and hitting on NYU students much younger than himself were racing through his head. And this time he would be single. No one to check in to and make up stories to about his whereabouts. He was already convinced that he was going without Francine.

Francine was thinking of baby names if it were a girl because if it were a boy, she´ll let Jim name him. That´s how her family has named babies for two generations. She was already imaging how the baby’s room would look. Of course, they would have to remodel the room that Jim calls an office but uses as his internet porn viewing room.

Francine pulled into the driveway and Jim started to prepare himself about what he was going to say. How would he break this to her? Francine opened the door and with a huge smile threw her arms around Jim. “Honey, I have great news,” she said.

“I have news, too,” he said.

“Of course you can go first honey, but I am sure mine is bigger!” she said with such a smile that Jim was now very curious as to learn what she had to say.

“Go ahead, Fran, you go first” he said.

“We’re pregnant, love!” tears rolled down her face as these words came from her mouth.

“What do you mean WE?!” he said with a twisted look on his face.

A puzzled look came upon Francine’s face. Jim took notice and realized how awful he just sounded but his thoughts were spinning so far out of control he could not rectify the situation.

Francine stammered a little, “I am pregnant. Dr. Spengler just told me over the phone”.

Jim couldn´t help himself. The booze had lubed his tongue and the words just slipped out “Weren´t you taking the pill for Christ sake? And, hell, are you sure it´s even mine?” he was getting louder “It´s been months since we last fucked.”

Francine was shocked. She didn´t know what to say or think. She was certain he would be just as happy as she would. Her tears of joy turned to tears of sadness. Now it was her thoughts that were spinning.

Jim realized how harsh he had been and apologized. He told her that he had been stressed out about a few things. Then Francine asked, “What about your news? Didn´t you have something to tell me?”

Jim wasn’t even listening. All he was doing was calculating child support payments based on his new salary and if he would have enough at the end of the week to go out.

With almost no life in his eyes, he looked at Francine and asked, “Have you thought about an abortion?”

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