Very Specific Porn
🔞 ALL INFORMATION CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻
Very Specific Porn
2 weeks ago
1 note
6 years ago
1 note
6 years ago
1 note
6 years ago
2 notes
This isn't porn.
But I am vouching for how it is still pretty specific.
Monday through Friday He had been working this freelance job. Planning, concepting, executing. Basically, He had to wear a lot of hats for this new startup. You know how that can be, I’m sure.
He had just about finished with Friday’s assignment: the arduous task of creating both aquatic animals and flying animals.
Aquatic animals were the easier of the two tasks. God used his tried and true methodology: within every genre of creature were two buckets, “gross” and “adorbz.” When asked by a friend why He bothered to make gross creatures (and not just an entire planet of adorbz creatures), God replied, “Because I’m not shallow, Doug.”
Dolphins, whales, otters, penguins – all of these came easy to God. He still had some slots to fill. “I’m thinking…some kind of violent sea spaghetti.” God waved his hands like a Jedi trying to tell you you were in fact looking for an entirely different set of droids, and a dozen or so sea snakes plopped into the water. God cringed. These sea snakes were gnarly, but He had really backed himself into a corner with Doug. A few minutes later He had an idea for “fish” and made a shit-ton of them of every different size and color – but He still wasn’t that thrilled. “Whatever” God said. He had shit to do this weekend so He needed to hurry up.
God was really struggling with the platypus. “What the…fuck are you?” He asked the idea of a platypus. “I have no idea, you’re the God here.” The idea of a platypus was pretty sassy today. God considered this burnt pancake of a creature. “Fuck it, honestly, it’s Friday.”
For flying creatures, God increased his pace yet again. “Let’s see. Like 10,000 types of birds? Feels right.” And he was done with flying creatures. And it was good…ish.
God kicked up his feet on Mount Vesuvius and, rolled a fat joint (which he also lit with the active volcano), took a hit, and deeply exhaled. This exhalation was the first tornado, as well as the only tornado made of pure THC. “I wonder what’s on this weekend…” God wondered. Just then, God’s phone vibrated. This vibration caused the first earthquake. “Fuck, who would be texting me EOD on a Friday?”
It was Raphaela, His boss. It was tough to make God frazzled, but if anyone could do it, it was Raphaela. The text read:
“God – hey, just wanted to pass along thanks for all the work you did this week. One small snag in plans: we need to get land creatures and human beings done before the weekend is over. Monday is our big unveiling and the board agrees we won’t achieve Q1 goals unless we fill out the planet. Is your usual day rate still good?”
God pouted for a minute to Himself. “What would they do if I said no? Who are they gonna even get last minute?” Nobody, of course. But his sense of duty and obligation quickly took over.
“I have plans this Sunday, but could do a half day tomorrow if that works for you.”
“We’re in a bind here, so if that’s all you can give us, that will have to do. The humans don’t even need to be perfect. We just need to hit our delivery date.”
“Okay,” God reassured himself, “I’ll just sketch something out now and be done with it. I can still bill them for the half day tomorrow.”
After a quick sketch, God looked down at his creation. He laughed and shook his head. “Good enough.”
I know we haven’t met before, but I’ve seen you on television more than a few times. I hope it’s okay that I’m writing you, but I’m not sure who else to talk to. It’s mostly because of how outspoken and critical you’ve been of your family’s collective political career. That must take guts and mental fortitude. I’m going through similar family strife right now and I wanted to ask bluntly: what do you do when most of your family is insane? I look forward to hearing back from you.
Thank you for the note and I would be happy to share my own perspective if it might be helpful. By your note, I know you’re painfully aware that my uncle Donald is a real monster. The rest of the family suckles from his monstrous flappy goo teets. This is what gives them all the same form of lunacy. It sounds like you’ve avoided ingesting any of your family’s goo and to me, this is the strongest way to protect yourself. If there’s anyone in your family that you really love, you need to figure out a way to break the cycle and stop them from drinking the goo. It’s the only way. Let me know if you have further questions and I’m happy to keep corresponding.
Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. That said…I’m not sure I get what you mean about goo. Do you mean literally?! That’s disgusting and not what I was writing you about. My family has massive communication issues and all of our relationship dynamics are based around a lack of directness and honesty. A lot of people who lie to themselves and each other and avoid confrontation, instead allowing problems to metastasize. I had figured you shared a similar experience and might have some tips.
I get why you might assume that, but no, it’s all goo-related. I’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on different forms of therapy, but it all comes back to the same place: the goo. It’s hard to get one member of your family to stop ingesting goo outright, so you should probably think about attacking the source. Your family will likely have some sort of tank somewhere in the house. If you want to save them, you need to destroy the tank and then, in addition, stop them from getting a new tank. Without a tank, their goo supply will dry up quickly and if it’s not too late, they’ll gradually go back to the family you remember. I hope this helps!
I thought you were crazy based on the past two letters you sent, but I did some poking and there is a giant tank in the downstairs laundry room area. I can’t remember ever seeing it before but admittedly I haven’t been home in a few years. Where is this goo coming from? You said your family was nursing off of your uncle Donald to get this stuff?! I’m not finding anything on Wikipedia and I’m starting to really worry about this.
All the goo comes from my uncle. Even the goo in your family’s laundry room. My uncle is very particular so he only lets his friends Tucker and Sean come over to milk him. Your family probably got their goo supply from one of them. You control the goo, you control the universe – that’s what my uncle always said. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I agree it’s pretty unsettling.
I’ve destroyed their goo chamber but they were fucking mad. I told them why I did it – that it was for their own good and to protect them. But they just started screaming about how it’s the only goo that they like, and drinking it makes them feel important. I tried to tell them where it comes from, but that only seemed to encourage them more. “Good! That’s the best kind of goo you can get. Only the best.” I tried to ask them why they needed to drink goo at all. They couldn’t answer the question but told me that I was too corrupted by the internet to understand. I told them I couldn’t support this kind of behavior and would be ending my visit home early. This resulted in a bunch of grown adults throwing a temper tantrum on the floor. They then started to shit and piss themselves like a bunch of infants. They cried and cried covered in shit and piss until it was dinner time. Instead of going to sit at the dinner table, like I remembered us doing, they one at a time took turns suckling on the last drops of goo from the floor. It even had bits of glass inside it but they didn’t seem to notice!
The past few days were a new flavor of insanity for Harry. After a few years of “joyful boredom,” witnessing his best friend’s suicide was the worst moment of Harry’s life. He had pinged his Pharma Advisor who recommended he start drinking Numb Water, and in the past Harry would’ve been excited to take any and all mind-altering chems. But something had changed in him.
He needed to know why. Robin seemed almost like Fergus’ death was “just some thing that happened.” She didn’t cry, and she hardly even brought him up in their pings. Harry, less of a cold-unfeeling robot, would never forget what he saw.
Harry let himself into Fergus’ apartment. Fergus never told Harry his doorcode per se, but Fergus was predictable. 1-2-3-4. His code for everything. What Harry saw shocked him.
Fergus’s living room was covered in papers, wall to wall. He had been one of the only people Harry had ever met that still used paper. For so long, his best friend had dug in his heels and refused to change. When technology changed, when society changed, Fergus mostly stood firm, resolute. Like a rock, enduring an emotionless and never-ending beating from the waves.
Each paper had names. Dates. Random words written in sharpie, underlined and circled again and again.
He saw Robin’s name. And a line connecting it to a “Cyle.” To Francis Moseman. And his name connected to Marlene Baxter. And the Secretary of Defense, alongside dozens of other names Harry had heard on the news at one time or another. The interwoven matrix of connections looked like the work of a top TV crime scene investigator. In a way, feeling Fergus’ mind at work on the walls felt like he was still alive. His brain was a ceaseless wonder and it never stopped working, even after his suicide.
“I told you to stop working, you miserable bastard,” Harry teased Fergus as if he was there. “But I guess I’m finishing this one. Not like I have anything better to do now that you’re gone.”
He didn’t expect her immediate response to be, “He’s gone Harry, maybe it’s time to let it go.” But it was.
“Well maybe you didn’t give two fucks about him, but he was my best friend. Maybe fucks are the only thing you gave him, actually.”
Robin’s face looked pained and surprisingly, Harry felt instant regret. He recognized that look as one of guarded anguish. It was the same last look Fergus had given him.
“I’m sorry…that was too far. I–I’m struggling with the grief. I can’t believe he didn’t talk to me. To you. His death felt abrupt.”
The look on her face devolved into tears.
She hadn’t shown a speck of emotion in the short time they had known each other, so this felt worth pressing onwards. “What is it? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“There’s a lot I’m not telling you. There are things I haven’t told anyone except–”
“Yes. I did like him, Harry. I liked him a lot. I have never met someone so genuine in my life. People aren’t genuine. They all have an agenda, something they want. It’s why we’re in the situation we’re in. Already powerful people want even more power over others. It’s why the government has Francis Moseman and a team of hundreds working around the clock to create the perfect AI. One that can autonomously govern every part of our society flawlessly.”
“The perfect AI?! Why would that make Fergus kill himself? I would love an AI to do all the things I don’t want to do. That sounds like a dream. You’re not making sense.”
She stopped to cry again. Harry tried to put his hand on her shoulder. It felt weird touching her, but he was awkward in these situations.
“F-Fergus k-killed himself…because I drew him a roadmap, to where this was all going. Moseman only came to us because he found out the truth.”
Harry walked over to a sheet of paper that had the following written down, crossed out, and replaced with new text:
“My first fears about this AI project were that we would atrophy as a species. And we will. Francis Moseman showed us all data showing that a certain percentage of the population, with nothing driving them forwards, will become complacent, depressed, and eventually disassociate – which sounds bad enough. The fact that 8% of the test ants had died was concerning, until Francis told us how they would reset the test environments.”
The note continued, “The programmer would override the AI and commit an environment refresh. The AI would purge the environment of the entire ant population, so we could start fresh. In a matter of seconds, a colony of 1,000 ants was reduced to dust by the AI. The system had the ability to analyze the test subjects, and instantly decide on the most efficacious way to get rid of the now-unwanted-ants before implementing the environmental changes. In this case, a simple nucleotide was introduced to the air and would get absorbed by the ants through their breathing spiracles before evaporating into dust.”
Robin interrupted his reading, “We were against this project when it was just a threat to our progress as a species. But the more we’ve pulled on the string, the more this sweater has unraveled. The threat, is total. In the wrong hands, this power is absolute, world-ending power. It’s in the wrongest hands imaginable.”
Every sporting, entertainment and news journalist has collectively gathered into the meeting room at the London Marriott Hotel in Kensington, with much of the overflow still attending digitally via video conference. Manchester United Executive Vice-Chairman Ed Woodward addresses the gathered mob of journalists to make an announcement.
EW : Thank you all for joining us here today. We have significant developments to announce and this news is sure to excite fans around the globe.
Woodward clears his throat before continuing.
EW : While there was a small bit of dissent amongst fans and players over the recently announced plans for a European Super League, we have taken all of this feedback into consideration and revised our plans so that no fan shall find themselves left out of our planning.
Woodward clicks on a small controller and a projector screen descends from the ceiling. Manchester United’s logo rests on the screen next to a piece of clip art of a chart where the numbers go up and another where a random guy is holding a thumb’s up. The next slide reveals: “Global Super Duper Mega League.”
EW: We realized that the ambition of our European Super League was…strangely…not grand enough. And we think this new entity will have something for everyone, so without further ado I’ll pass the microphone to our new GSDML Director of Operations: Jeff Bezos!
Jeff Bezos’ face appears on the screen via video conferencing software. The crowd of journalists is quiet, not really knowing what to make of this announcement.
JB : Thank you Ed for the introduction. We’re really excited to be bringing the GSDML to you via Amazon Prime Video Plus Plus, which is only two minor upcharges from your Amazon Prime fee. This new league is going to have fan interactivity like we’ve never seen before, with our software propelling much of that functionality. If you’re watching let’s say…Manchester United vs Juventus, and Anthony Martial isn’t helping out on defense, YOU the fan can sub him out at the click of a button. We’re changing some of the rules to allow for unlimited substitutions so every fan can have their say.
The journalists’ silence is interrupted by a brief laugh…until it becomes very clear Jeff Bezos isn’t making a joke. He’s dead serious.
JB: Also, we’ve improved the visual experience of watching a match, and for that I think we’re going to hear from the GSDML’s Co-Directors of Product: Michael Bay and Zack Snyder.
A small, impotent explosion flashbangs the room as Michael Bay and Zack Snyder enter amongst the theatrics and approach the microphones.
MB : This project was definitely something new and exciting that Zack and I both jumped at the chance to collaborate on.
ZS : We think there’s definitely an opportunity to get away from the “diving and rolling around on the pitch” that fans talk about so much, while infusing more action into the sport.
MB : So now, whenever there’s an on-field dispute, we will interrupt the match to engage in what we’re calling “Fight Battles.”
ZS : When Zlatan Ibrahimovic “fouls” another player, the player has the right to challenge Zlatan on the spot to fight it out. Winner gets the ball, and a favorable free kick just outside the box.
MB : And the fans at home are going to love seeing Zlatan beat the crap out of whoever that idiot player is in 8…..K!
Michael Bay leaves room for the audience to gasp, but when they don’t gasp, he continues on.
MB: Which leads us to our most exciting announcement.
Bono and The Edge stand up from the front row of journalists. They had been there all along, in comically transparent disguises.
BONO : Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah. GSDML-oooo hellooooo. This league’s gone vertigoooooo.
EDGE : We’re really excited to be here.
A journalist raises their hand and Edge points at them.
Bono doesn’t seem to understand why he is not being embraced and lauded as a god-emperor. Ed Woodward approaches the microphone to defend his new Director of Football Music.
EW : U2 is one of the greatest bands of all time. We thought it was fitting that the soundtrack to our new league be one of the greatest soundtracks of all time. During every match, U2 will play LIVE throughout the action. So now when one of United’s players (Woodward tries to think of a United player’s name, but he doesn’t really know any)….uhh like Brian, for example. There’s a Brian on the team right? When Brian scores a head goal, we can jam out to Where The Streets
Sasha Alexander Nude Scene
My Free Black
Brandi Glanville Porn