I maintain my silky smooth skin with a natural product, made from all organic components! Interested in hearing more...

Yup. Tho armpits are pretty regular too, like every fortnight.

that's the power of flex-tape!

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gross
also gross

Shave? You better only be shaving armpits and pubes

You don't shave your face?

n-no ur gross

Don't knock it till you try it Mr Mansion!

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no why, why would i? Im a man

it was considered manly to be clean shaved after the second world war. So as you can see, what is and isn't considered manly is dependant entirely on a fragile social trend. I don't care if it's considered manly now, it probably won't be 10, even 5 years from now.

>Mr Mansion!
pic related
And why would I try something that only gives me what I already have?

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90% of you are an*Mefags most likely
You all need to go back

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nah mate, im loyal to Jow Forums

Stan McBride is a fellow, he made that old record store down at Brimestone, not that I really ever looked into it any further, I mean why would I? Came that day I finally took my trusted mare, old Stacey, you know the one? Brown in skin golden in eyes, trusted old horse that would never fail me, or so I thought. Either way the journey was on the way, and I was going down there to see for myself, surely it couldn't be, could it? Record aren't meant to be split like atoms, you don't split music into a million pieces, it has to be natural. Either way I was on my way on my mare, she was riding with me and I felt her smooth body pressing against my body, it was a sensual experience. Half way there I felt her engine running spotty, it was hipping and hopping and I didn't know where to turn, but oh, what do you think popped up in my vision? The old mare repairman, Mr Mansion, he came running towards me with his horse lube ready for action, I knew he would fix the old mare up good. Not sure how long he was in there, but surely he must had done something right because I've never experienced a ride that smooth...
To be continued?

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wtf?

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Are you aching for the rest of this riveting story? ^o^

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>advertises on Jow Forums
>tfw nobody fucking cares

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an*Mefags will go sooner or later

I'm not sure.
Are you insinuating that I'm a horsefucker? Are you under the impression that I'm barneyfag?
if the answer to those is no, go ahead I guess.

No, I just saw you were writing stories for Dr Medic and I wanted to try myself, the Mr Mansion stunt was just a way to get your attention.. :c

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Okay. Go ahead then.
I only do those because I think they're funny as fuck. I tried to record a reading of one but hearing them out loud just makes them even more ridiculous and I could not for the life of me stop laughing.

Alright, here goes..
Finally, the time has arrived, I placed my mare on the foot of Brimestone, she was steaming, smoking and generally heat was bursting out of her every opening. I decided it was time to give her a well needed rest, and since I had already had arrived at my goal I found it redundant to ride her around in circles for a few hours like I usually do. Although, I couldn't properly decide whether or not to do it, I know she usually likes those extra miles stepping around in the desert sand galloping hard while swallowing her own sweat while reminding herself of that time she was a young human female, riding around in the sand swallowed by the magic of time and danced with the nudists. But this isn't the time to talk about the stories of the mare, she has lived a full life and this time some rest is what she most of all desires, after all she is boiling from within from all that heat. The sun was gazing as I dragged my legs behind me, rolling towards the broken record store of Mr McBride, he was whaling in the distance, I could hear his fingers breaking uneven bottles of records, he kept the records in record sized bottles to cool them from the gazing sun. He was a man of his word but the store was still far away, I figure a mile from here (from Brimestone) where I placed my mare, I would have to drag the feet above and over the sand, I had to drag the feet with me. A motion where I first threw my severed legs in front of my body (the center of gravity being my left ankle) then slowly mustering enough power in me to take my calloused hands and drag the sand, moving the earth to my liking in order to proceed through the hot desert sun...

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here, I finally got one where I managed to keep a straight face through most of it
vocaroo.com/i/s1MXicGMkarW

Is that the end of the story?

You have a good narrator voice! c:
Depends if you want to hear more or not, any questions so far?

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>they still have not gone back to their containment board

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Yeah, sure. I think it's best if you write it for yourself, though. Are you enjoying your writing?
Other than that, is there a particular reason you're choosing to sexualize a horse?

Where do I sexualize a horse, you figure?

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>Either way I was on my way on my mare, she was riding with me and I felt her smooth body pressing against my body, it was a sensual experience.
>horse lube
along with other less blatant stuff that seems to be interspersed
>after all she is boiling from within from all that heat.
Referring to a female as being hot inside usually refers to something pretty specific. You're trying to be shrewd with me again though eh?

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Well, I think you'll change your mind after the third part...
Slowly descending towards the heated desert floor a sound can be heard, this time not from the whining and crying McBride but from my trusted Mare, Stacey. I could hear her boiling insides turning within itself into mighty windy worrysome screams, I in haste grabbed my mutilated legs, threw them into the tinfoil bag I had crafted out of my makeship workshop and dug back towards the gigantic phallic horse-like creature that surfaced through the sand and came at me in full speed. The sound of the hooves was deafening but I could not resist, I had to lead my way through the heat towards that mighty roar of the plentisome insides, those of little consequence for me, for I had before waded in these water, I knew it very well and I was ready to let my very being be devoured in the wonderful scents and colors once more. She rode towards me, so gracious while exploding in colors leaving footsteps of sensualization in the sand. I ran towards the golden, the rim and the fearsome new dawn broken at once, more light even than the sun and more majestic than the most gracious gazelle. Not long before my wooden sparkling legs threw themselves before the windy tunnel I once again laid my eyes on that, that which I had many times before seen and my entire body vibrated in delight, the explosion had hit me, that wonderful magical but also bittersweet emotional rupture, it had hit me again and I fell, I fell through the sand, I fell into myself... I... turned around, quickly and looked into her seldom before witnessed gaze as I let out a long sigh, a sigh for the many.. It was singing to me, it was blissful panic in the moment, blissful light and panic of the soul, serenity and bothersome fatigue.

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my mind remains unchanged

Do you enjoy the story? Any elements or characters you would like to change?

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it's interesting I guess, but probably only because it's you writing it
wouldn't change anything though. It's very you.

Oh? How is it very me? ^-^

I would think it was you even if I couldn't see the flag. It's kind of awkwardly worded and seems to be the kind of thing you would come up with. It seems a bit aimless, too.

I see, but there is an aim here! Let's see where it goes..
Suddenly it all shifts, he opens his eyes and looks up, the darkness has gripped the desert as he lays in it, the desert of one. That desert which is laid out for anyone who becomes the single fish in a pond. The lineage ends here, he looks at her again. He can't find the gracious, most blissful moment, he can't find it, what mare? Where is that mare? Where is this, McBride, what about his records? He can't find this, he fell through, didn't he? Yes, he must have, for some reason the floor wasn't the end of this, as he fell through he also found himself in the dark, he found himself on an island, and island in a vast ocean. A vast, dark and cold ocean he is surrounded by darkness on all sides, the island becomes his only refuge, but the darkness is creeping in and he can't seem to find that place again. It is silent, yet not, he tries to move but there is no point, he wants to return once again, can he force himself up through the floor from which he fell? Fear grips him, that's the worst, the worst of all, it is activating, it will not assist him in this. Even so the land in between, you can make out both worlds at once in this layer between the bottom and the top, you will break through and your journey through it will be shaped like an S. It is the drunkenness of it that is most fearsome, we know it will be the future, those moments of confusion might not be terror but in recollection it is believed that this recollection will fade, this recollection will eventually be an ability of the past. He thinks of this, but he wants to return - to the mare, to his quest for music but he has fallen. How did he end up down here again, this is not where he wanted to be, this is not it, this is not what he wanted for himself. A rusty nail has been inserted into his hands and his feet, they are digging in deep and pins him down, he feels the rugged edges of the nail tearing off his flesh, the pain yet, dull.

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Why the change from first to third person?

Well, there's a reason.. Maybe it will become clear in the next parts, stay tuned for more! For now I say goodnight!

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goodnight sven