Aug 132014
 

Sweat poured down my nude body. The sun was unforgiving today. The salt of my sweat burned the cuts on my cock. The hot asphalt baked my naked feet. I winced with every step but I kept walking. My pain pleased the Lady and her pleasure was all that mattered.

My leather hood kept my eyes closed but we could see. The ruins of a city were spread out before us. A car was flattened from when a giant had stepped on it. A building had been knocked over from something monstrous fucking it. Rotting corpses filled the road from when an escape had turned into an orgy.

Mouth knew the place so we did too. It was called Savannah before the Monsters fucked the world and the sun grew a nipple. People came here once to eat, relax and buy things. Now we had come to scavenge.

“Search” the Lady commanded. The scars on our backs, arms, legs and cocks flared. The five of us moaned and obeyed.

Giant searched the restaurant, looking for canned foods. Mouth and Ass searched the corpses, looking for jewelry and treasures that might please the Lady. Fingers went to the store, looking for new instruments of pain for the Lady to inflict on us. I went further ahead, looking for better places.

The Lady stood her place among us, her will guiding our actions. Today she wore a newly stolen white dress that protected her from the sun. Her long red hair crowned her glory. I hated her and loved her and wanted her and despised her.

I came across the dead body of a child. Something tugged in my memory but the Lady squashed it.

“Search, Legs” she commanded. An image of a hot knife against my balls flashed in my mind. I whimpered and kept looking.

There was a noise down the street. We paused in our search as I stepped forward. If someone was alive then we might eat well today. If someone was male, then the Lady may torture someone else today. If that male was handsome, then one of us may die and be replaced. Excitement thumped in all six hearts.

A nude woman stepped out from behind a car. Sweat and scars covered her body as well. Leather cuffs covered her wrists. One of her nipples was missing.

She glared at me with angry eyes. We looked back at her and gasped. Like us, there was not one person looking back from those eyes but six.

My pack came to me, the Lady behind us. They ran on broken asphalt and I felt Ass’s feet bleed. They grabbed bricks, pieces of metal and a knife. I picked up a broken stop sign. The Lady doesn’t like us to carry weapons until it is time to kill.

The nude woman was joined by her pack. The women were naked except for their leather cuffs. They looked like they hadn’t eaten in a very long time. One’s eyes were swollen shut but I had no doubt that she could see. One woman was taller than me and we knew that Giant would fight her. They too carried sharp metal and broken rocks.

Behind them, I saw their Lord. While they were thin and starving, he was healthy and fat. He wore pants that were too tight for him and no shirt. He carried a club in his hand and it was stained with blood.

My Lady saw the Lord and she hated him so we hated him too. His pack looked at our Lady and the women moaned with desire.

“Attack!” the Lady commanded and we charged forward. The women threw their rocks at us and Mouth was hit in the jaw. The pain flashed through us all but we kept running.

I swung my stop sign at a black woman with a knife. She dodged and I only managed to slap her bruised breasts. She swung at me and cut my leg. The burn of her slice was nothing compared to what the Lady cut last night.

The rest of my pack fought and we saw the battle. Giant punched the tall woman. Ass fell as a kick broke his knee. Fingers jammed a jagged rock into a woman’s eye. Mouth was hit again in the face and lost more teeth.

The Lady and Lord watched. I felt her mind in my arms as she guided my swing. I watched the woman jerk back suddenly as her Lord saved her. The Lady shifted her focus to Giant as I kicked the woman to the ground. She flashed broken teeth at me as she threw her knife.

Pain erupted in my throat. I pulled the knife out of my neck and it dropped from my fingers. Hot blood cascaded down my chest. I fell to one knee and clamped a hand over my throat. The Lady entered my mind and then left as she saw my doom.

I fell forward into the road. We were losing. Giant had killed his woman but Fingers had spilled his guts into the ground and Ass was having the life choked out of him. Mouth was on the ground and his head was being bashed in. I shuddered as I felt each piece of his skull being fractured.

Giant screamed with the rage of the Lady. He grabbed a knife and planted it into the back of Mouth’s killer. The three surviving women rushed him with sharp metal. He was big but they were quick. They stabbed and they stabbed and they stabbed as their Lord laughed at us.

The Lady was alone. I saw through her eyes as the women hacked Giant apart. I felt her fear.

Her control weakened. I remembered my name. I wailed as I remembered my wife and how the Lady killed her. I remembered my daughter and the horrors the Lady had committed. Despair swept over me and I tried to cry but all I did was bleed more blood into the ground.

Then I died.

“Fight,” the Lady commanded.

I pushed up from the ground. There was so much blood on the road. I grabbed the stop sign and stood up.

Fingers rose and pulled the last of his guts from his body.

Ass wheezed through a broken throat as he stood up.

The three women were approaching the Lady. They spun around and stared at us. Their Lord was confused so they were too. We were dead. How could the Lady’s will be stronger than our deaths?

Maybe that was why she was the Lady.

We rushed forward. I swung my stop sign overhead at the black woman who killed me. She smiled as the sign caved in her face. I knew she was thanking me for the freedom that had been denied to her.

Fingers ripped out the throat of a woman with his teeth and I felt the Lady’s pleasure of the taste of the woman’s blood.

Ass tackled the last woman and bashed her head against the road.

“Take him,” the Lady commanded.

The Lord ran. We chased. He ducked into a store where mannequins had been raped and we followed. He ran out into an alley where strange cocks grew on the walls and we chased. He ran into a street where the dead cars vibrated and we grabbed him. He was strong but we punched and held him down until our Lady caught up to us.

Our Lady carried Mouth’s mask in her hand. The Lord screamed as we ripped off his tight pants. The Lord begged as we held his head still. The Lord cried as she put the hood on him.

“Now, you are Bitch,” she said.

Bitch stopped struggling. We let him go and Bitch scrambled to his knees. He bent his head down and kissed the shit covered boot of our Lady.

“We need more,” the Lady commanded. “We need to replenish my slaves before you fall apart.”

We moaned and obeyed.

Aug 042014
 

When the Apocafuck occurred, much of the infrastructure of civilization was destroyed. Giant monsters fucked each other on top of power plants. Bridges collapsed under the weight of ever growing orgies. Cell phone towers were pulled apart and rebuilt into walking fuck golems. Most of humanity’s accomplishments were destroyed.

The Internet however, survives. Monitors that are no longer plugged into computers will come to life and display porn movies. Long dead cell phones will buzz to life with nude selfies of the dead. Computers hum ominously as they fill their hard drives to the brink with porn from an unknown source.

Some have tried to use the Internet to communicate with other survivors. It hasn’t worked well. Web browsers redirect to porn sites that require credit card information. People who try to text a known number will have their message transformed into something filthy and perverse. I personally have tried to upload this book into a wiki for other survivors but all it does is turn it into a porn story about robots, witches and boy bands.

In a world where science seems to no longer exists and dread things fuck in the night, it appears that the internet is once again only for porn.

“Epilogue for the Human Race” by Robert Dowel

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Feb 262014
 

Angela looked down from her second floor window at the Midnight Motel. There were new cars in the parking lot and they were doing their best to fuck each other. A jeep was mounting a compact car from behind while a utility van was trying in vain to get on top of a sedan. A pickup was on its side and another pickup was tapping the underside gently with its front end. Angela wondered if that was what passed for oral among cars. She also wondered if two pickups fucking made them gay.

She laughed at that. As if gay or straight meant anything anymore. In the Old Days, sure, people fought over gays marrying and straight people being allowed to be judgmental but in these New Days, it didn’t mean shit. The sun had a nipple, cities were destroyed by the fucking of giant monsters and just last week, she watched a tribe of freaks wearing gimp masks have a war with freaks wearing thigh high boots that ended in a cannibalistic orgy that consumed both sides both metaphorically and physically until no one was left.

“These are the days of a fucked up apocalypse,” Angela said out loud.

She looked back down at the cars. The jeep blasted its horn and rolled off the compact. The compact beeped its horn sadly and then went cruising for another car. A minivan came roaring up and mounted the compact. The two vehicles rocked together in a loud gnashing of metal.

Angela toyed with the idea of going down there. If she threw herself between two fucking cars, the collision of metal would surely kill her. The grinding of vehicular fornication would crush her to nothing. It wouldn’t be a painless death but at least it would be a certain one. It would be better to choose her own death than to get killed by whatever weirdness she might encounter today.

Her stomach growled. “No,” Angela said. “I’m not going to die on an empty stomach.” She would eat first and then consider suicide later.

A hot wind blew through the busted window and ruffled Angela’s long brown hair. There were dark clouds on the horizon and they were moving fast. Angela sniffed the air but it didn’t smell like rain. The wind smelled musty and hot and for some reason it reminded her of her grandfather.

“If I want to eat, I better find something now before it rains,” she said.

Angela gathered her things which weren’t much. It was hot all the time now so she didn’t need a shirt or bra. She wore shorts because she didn’t like to sit on the ground bare ass naked and in this highly sexual apocalypse, it helped to have something protecting your pussy. She grabbed a big purse to hold whatever food she might find.

She glanced at a mirror to check her hair but it was pointless. Her hair was long, untangled and full bodied as if she had just stepped out of a salon. In this new world, cars fucked and hair stayed perfect.

Angela left the Midnight Motel through the back way. The sound of colliding cars eager to fuck was louder on the ground. She picked a direction down the road and started walking.

She didn’t have a place in mind. The world had changed since Angela was a dental hygienist and it just kept changing. Yesterday this road was made of latex and now it was back to being a road. There was a gas station down the road but yesterday it turned into a giant pink bra. Looking at it now, it appeared to be a giant black lace bra. That was what passed for consistency around here.

Angela hoped that there was something more substantial than the edible panties she found yesterday. She was fucking sick of that grape flavor. The day before she found a giant can of pudding and the day before that was seven cherry pies sitting on a waterbed. She would have killed for a hamburger or a piece of chicken but nowadays the only food she could find appeared to be foreplay, a sex aid or a damn pun.

The hot wind gusted in her face. The musty smell was back and she thought of her grandfather again.

Then she smelled bacon.

Angela started to run. The bacon smell grew stronger. It was coming from behind an old barn. She ran faster.

She turned the corner and stopped in her tracks. Spread out in front of her were cocks growing out of the ground like mushrooms. Brown cocks, pink cocks, pale cocks and some cocks as black as the night stood upright and erect in the ground.

The wind blew and the cocks wiggled. The bacon smell was so strong here.

Angela knelt in the dirt. She grabbed a cock and it throbbed in her hand. She pulled and it stayed in the ground. Using both hands, she pulled again and it popped free. A hairy ball sack covered in dirt was at the over end.

Angela’s stomach growled.

She took a lick of the cock. It tasted like bacon.

Angela looked to the sky. The sun with its brown nipple hung in the sky.

“Don’t make me eat a cock,” she asked the sky.

There was a rumble of thunder. The dark clouds were much closer now. The hot wind blew and the musty smell almost overwhelmed the bacon smell.

Almost.

“Fuck,” Angela said. She bit down hard on the tip of the cock.

The cock stopped throbbing. Mercifully, it didn’t spray blood or semen. It was like biting a hot dog except it was ten times as delicious. Angela chewed the cock and the taste of salt and pork exploded in her mouth.

Angela groaned. Her mouth was in heaven. She trembled a little. After weeks of crappy food, it was so nice to have meat in her mouth again.

Heat bloomed under her shorts. She was horny. That wasn’t new. Every since the New Days started, Angela was horny most days. The slightest pleasure made her wet. It was a wonder that she wasn’t humping cars herself.

She ate more of the cock. She chewed and swallowed it all until there was nothing but balls left. The hair turned her off and she thought about shaving it. Nah, there was plenty more cock to eat.

Angela tried to count the cocks but lost count around fifty. That was a lot of cock. She could have food for a week easily.

She could also have a few to fuck.

The hot wind blew harder. Something fluttered down to the ground. It was a slow fall and Angela stood up and plucked it out of the sky.

It was a page torn from a magazine. On one side was a picture of a blonde woman spreading her pussy. The other side of the page was a giant close up of big fake tits. It was porn.

Angela knew that musty smell now. Back when she was a teenager, she had been in her grandfather’s attic. He had been downstairs watching westerns and she was looking for old books to read. She found a bunch of trashy romances that belonged to her grandmother but she also found something else. It was a box filled to the brim with dirty magazines and hot attic brought out the pulp smell.

Angela’s hand drifted down to her shorts. She had liked the romance novels but she had loved those magazines. This was back before the internet and computers had put porn everywhere. Those magazines were her twisted windows into what sex might be like. She remembered long hair, big tits, bushy pussies and seventies fashion.

Mostly though, Angela remembered Ms. Playtoy of June 1974. The porn magazines were filled with endless white women but once in a rare while, they had an African-American model and Ms. Playtoy of June 1974 was a tall busty black woman with an afro. Her name was Jennifer Belton and she was Angela’s first crush on a female.

Angela smiled at that memory. As a girl, Angela had seen plenty of naked female bodies but there was something special about Jennifer Benton. She was the first naked black woman that Angela had seen and somehow that dark skin, exotic hair and full lips had awoken Angela to how beautiful and special a woman can look. Angela had snuck that magazine back downstairs, into her suitcase and back home so she could look in private wonder at Jennifer Benton’s unique beauty.

The wind blew and the hot smell of paper washed over Angela. It was getting dark fast and Angela had a lot of work to do. She knelt back in the ground and started grabbing cocks. She pulled a big fat black cock out of the ground and crammed it into her purse.

Another page fell beside her. This time it depicted a brunette’s nearly naked body covered in soap suds. Angela moved the page out of the way to pull up the pale white cock beneath it.

A page blew right into Angela’s face. A graphic closeup of a cock sliding into a hairy pussy filled her vision. She pulled the page off her face and reached for a nice long cock with bulging veins. It came out of the ground and she shoved it into her purse, hairy balls and all.

The ground darkened around her. Angela looked up to see the dark clouds above her. There was something else in the sky above her and when she realized what it was, she gasped.

Pages and pages whirled above her. The sky was filled with the flashing images of tits, ass, legs, cock and faces. There was no rain in the air, it was all porn.

“That’s new,” Angela said. Her wet pussy clenched in agreement.

Something sharp tore across her arm. Angela yelled and looked at her arm. A thin line of blood swelled on her tanned flesh.

It was a paper cut.

“That’s new and not good,” Angela said.

There were only three cocks in her purse but it would have to do. Angela got up and started to jog from the field. She went back around the barn and headed for the road.

Pages flew in front of her. They darted about with unholy speeds. It was a whirlwind of tanned flesh and hairy bodies. She raised her arms to cover her face as she ran. The paper nicked her bouncing tits and long legs but she kept running.

Something heavy smacked into the side of her head. Angela spun around and hit the rough pavement of the road. She scrapped her knees and screamed. Bright lights exploded in front of her eyes and she wondered what the fuck had hit her.

A loud crash landed next to her head. Her vision focused long enough to make out a black plastic case and the unwinding spool of black tape. A label proudly announced that it was Big Tit Swallowers Part Seven. It was a dirty VHS tape.

“Shit,” Angela said. There wasn’t just paper porn flying in this storm.

She scrambled to her feet. Her knees bled and ached but she ignored them. This was a storm of porn and she needed to get the fuck back to her motel.

The purse bounced alongside her full with her bounty of throbbing cocks. Her tits swung as she ran and Angela swore to find a bra first thing tomorrow. Paper smashed against her running limbs as if trying to grab her. Sharp edges of paper cut along her body in painful brief kisses. Black VHS tapes smashed into the ground, narrowly missing her running body.

Angela saw something large and colorful swoop down in front of her. It smacked into her stomach before she could dodge it. She fell backwards and luckily her head bounced off the grass on the side of the road instead of the road itself. The thing that hit her was on her stomach and it was heavy as fuck. All the air had been knocked out of her and Angela gasped for a full minute before she could move.

She picked up the large object on top of her body. It was computer monitor, the cable whipping behind it in the wind. On the screen was a video of a man jerking off. He stroked himself to a messy climax before the video started over.

This was too much. Angela was used to things not making sense but this was too fucking weird. She had survived months of this weird perverted apocalypse and she had had enough. Maybe she should just lay here and wait for something heavy to smash her skull open. It would be messy but at least she would be dead and done with this world.

A page landed on her face. Black tits covered her vision. She pulled the page from her face and her heart skipped a beat.

Ms. Playtoy of June 1974, Jennifer Belton, looked down on her from the page. She held her black tits in her hands and smiled at Angela as if she was the only girl in the world.

Angela stuffed the page into her purse. One of the throbbing cocks almost wiggled out but she stuffed it back in. She got back up and ran.

More pages flew into her face but she kept running. Monitors made craters in the ground as they smashed too close to her. Silver DVD discs flew through the air like round shrapnel.

She ran past the gas station that was now a black lace bra. It lifted up into the wind and flew off to God knows where.

The Midnight Motel was up ahead. The cars had stopped fucking in the parking lot. Angela was close. Her body hurt, she was bleeding from a dozen paper cuts and her damn tits were bruising her chest with all the naked running but Angela ran faster.

There was a crash behind Angela. The shockwave knocked her from her feet and she sailed through the air. She smacked hard into the back door of the motel. New pains erupted along her body.

“What the fuck was that?” Angela asked. She looked behind her and started to shake.

It was a giant screen. It looked like it had been torn off a theater somewhere. A twenty foot tall mouth licks a twenty foot tall pussy. The image flickered as if something was being projected onto it but of course there was nothing.

Angela opened the door and stumbled into the Midnight Motel. She hurt too much to take the stairs to her room. She stumbled to the lobby and fell onto one of the ratty couches there.

Outside the wind howled. Pornographic pages smacked against the windows. Larger items banged against the walls.

Angela struggled to catch her breath. Her purse wiggled and she reached in for a cock. It was the pale white one and she bit the tip off to stop the moving. The taste of bacon filled her mouth and she felt good. She was still bleeding and her body ached but the taste of bacon fixed just about anything.

She took another bite and reached back into the purse. She pulled out Jennifer Benton’s smiling face and contentment washed over Angela.

The world was beyond fucked up but that was okay. Angela was chewing bacon, she had her first crush in her hand and two more throbbing cocks in her purse ready to be fucked and eaten.

It was everything she needed to live one more day.

Feb 212014
 

The primary definition of a religion is that it knows how everything began, how it is going to end and what you should be doing in between these two events. Sex Magicians are no different although every practitioner has their own theories of how it began and what you should be doing, but strangely they all agree on how it is going to end.

It is going to end badly. You don’t want to be here for it. It is going to make stories about Ragnorak and the Rapture look like feel good stories.

It is also going to be sexy as Hell but not in a way that we define it.

There is of course debate about what brings it about. We may be in agreement on the final destination of our place of existence but that does not mean we agree on why we will end.

The Voluptumancers have a story passed down from generation to generation that when the last perversion is discovered, the Gods That Have Always Been and the Gods Yet Undreamed Of will come to our world to teach us true sexuality.

The Society of the Purple Hand believe that when the greatest work of erotica is written, then all that read it will become doorways to beings of pure sexual energy who will remake the world according to their own designs.

The Vagina Shamans of the African plains believe that a special child will be born that will reach out with her mind and fuck everyone on the planet simultaneously. This group orgasm will transform everyone into the physical embodiment of their deepest lusts.

An old man who works at the porn store near me told me that the world will end when God gets so jaded that (s)he can no longer masturbate to our lives. That is when shit will get really freaky here.

What do I believe? I believe you should enjoy every kiss for tomorrow you might sucking the ass of an impossible being in a nightmare world. Who cares how we got there when that happens?

Samuel Noone
“The Pussy of Life”

May 042009
 

The Devil’s Hexagon is an area of downtown Atlanta in which a number of strippers, escorts and beautiful people have disappeared during the early 90’s. The local media attributed the disappearances to a serial killer but no bodies of the missing were ever found. Also, many of the disappearances happened in front of witnesses although the sordid nature of the Devil’s Hexagon discourages many witnesses from sticking around or giving their true names to reporters.

The boundaries of the Devil’s Hexagon traditionally starts at the male strip club, ‘Men, Men and Men’, travels east down Peachtree Street to the adult store, ‘The Toy Shack’, then heads southeast down Dunwoody Industrial to the adult video rental store, ‘Starnight Movies’, southwest down Dunwoody-Peachtree to the tattoo parlor, ‘it’s Gonna hurt’, then west down Piedmont to the adult book store, ‘Brown Bag Books’ then northwest up Peachtree Peidmont to the strip club, ‘The Classy Belle’ then northeast up Peachtree Street back to ‘Men, Men and Men.’

The first documented disappearance happened in 1993 when stripper, Brad Bimmers went missing. Witness spotted him walking through the front door of a tanning salon but the security cameras of the salon showed no one entering. Local homphobic rednecks were blamed and posters went up but no one information came forward on Brad or his amazing physique.

For the next four years, at least 100 other cases were documented. It began with missing strippers and other adult industry workers but soon customers and in one case, an car of lost high school cheerleaders went missing. The cheerleaders was one of the more disturbing cases as the car was found idling on a street corner with the doors locked and the windows rolled up. Their purses were left behind but odddly not their pom poms.

Religious groups claim the disappearances was God weeding out the sinners. Civic leaders argued that the disappearances were proof that the clubs and adult businesses should be closed down. Right wing militia groups suspected that black vans were kidnapping people to use as sex slaves for the United Nations.

A pagan witch by the name of Medea Ares claims that the disappearances are the first sign of a Sexual Rapture where all the sex workers were taken to a paradise to teach them to be sex angels for the Apocafuck. This theory of course was ignored and ridiculed by the Atlanta Constitution as they preferred the United Nations sex slave theory.

The last reported disappearance happened stopped in 1996 when the stripper, Dusty Mounds vanished on stage. The busty blonde was spinning on a pole and simply vanished. The centrifugal force sent her bikini top and bottom into the crowd. At first the crowd applauded as they thought it was part of the act but when she didn’t reappear to collect the money on stage they knew she had really dissappeared.

In 1998, zoning laws closed down many of the adult businesses in the Devil’s Hexagon. Most of the owners moved onto to other interests that were more socially acceptable like advance payroll cashing, gun stores and real estate. The area is now known for having the highest concentration of Waffle Houses in Atlanta, which is saying something.

Recently in 2009, several fabulously attractive people have disappeared in Tokyo, Japan around one of the more disreputable parts of town. It will take more research to determine if this a new Devil’s Hexagon.

Mar 092009
 

In 1992, Felisa Jimenez became briefly famous for the healing powers of her ass. The 19 year old girl was already a curvy beauty but the ability of her ass to cure chronic and fatal illnesses made her bottom a popular commodity.

According to an interview on the Phil Donahue Show, Felisa claims that she discovered the healing properties of her bottom due to a boyfriend. The man suffered from life long diabetes but shortly after he slipped his hand down her jeans on their second date, he found that his glucose levels stayed normal. He told Felisa about his recovery and tried to leverage the mystery of her ass into finding out what healing powers her sex possessed. She broke up with the boyfriend and decided to try her own experiments.

At the time of her interview, Felisa claimed to have healed 240 people with her beautiful ass. According to her research, her ass could cure cancer, Alzheimer, near sightedness, impotence, arthritis and the flu but strangely not the common cold. Her ass lacked the ability to cure wounds or injuries but Felisa claimed that her bottom cupping one of her buttocks could reduce pain and induce a feeling of euphoria.

When asked if a simple touch would invoke the healing effect, Felisa laughed. As she explained it in her own words,

“It has to be my bare bottom. Jeans or panties stop the healing. You have to put your hand right on my butt and let it rest there. If you give it a little squeeze or rub it a little, the healing magic works faster.”

Unfortunately for Felisa, the FDA charged her with practicing medicine without a license. They refused to investigate her claims and an anonymous source within the FDA was quoted to say “No ass, no matter how beautiful and perfect, can cure shit.”

Felisa’s case wasn’t helped when her mother took the stand. Mrs. Jimenez pleaded mercy for her daughter on grounds that Felisa was an attention seeking harlot who like to have strange men touch her bottom. She claimed that her child was always wild no matter how much Mrs. Jimenez tried to tame her. She told stories of Felisa flashing boys in high school and how she knows Felisa masturbates every night no matter how many times Mrs. Jimenez bangs on her bedroom door.

The judge took pity and decided Felisa did not require jail time. He barred Felisa from allowing her ass to be used as an instrument of healing. he also scolded her and told Felisa to listen to her mother.

Felisa Jimenez’s current location and status is unknown. After her court case, she left her mother’s home and didn’t leave a forwarding address. There are rumors of a beautiful Hispanic woman with an amazing ass that visits hospitals pretending to be a nurse. The stories tell of how this sexy nurse seduces sick patients into sliding their hands over her bare bottom. The FDA currently denies this is happening and attributes any outbursts of miraculous recoveries in hospitals to the increase of HMO coverages.

Apocafuck scholars beleive that the appearance of a healing ass is further proof that the lines between sexuality and miracles are coming closer. They beleive that soon we may see a cock that can purify water and a breast that can cure ignorance.

Mar 072009
 

On March 9th, 1939, the California town of Dayberry experienced a strange occurrence among the male population. At roughly noon that day, every male over the age of 15 experienced an intense orgasm. One car crash was reported as well as a fatal heart attack suffered by the town’s oldest resident, 93 year old Jed Perkins. Family members said he cried out “Thank you, Jesus!” before dying with a smile on his face.

The incident was not reported in the local paper due to an acute embarrassment over the strange incident. The town physician, Dr. Kenneth Dorick, described the incident in his journals. He reported that his orgasm came while he was observing his nurse’s posterior. At first he felt that the sheer power of her bottom had induced his climax but the screeching of tires outside was his first clue that he not alone in his sudden condition. Several patients soon flocked to his office for immediate check ups. Most were alarmed by the development but a noticeable 20 percent were asking if Dr. Dorick could somehow reproduce the effect.

Dr. Dorick’s personal conclusion was that the town had suffered an act of “Spontaneous Mass Ejaculation due to the recent addition of Oriental spices that filter into the air from that new kitchen where the Chinese eat.”

Sales at Wong’s Noodles increased. The family was able to take the profits and start a franchise that last to this day.

A week later, several citizens of the town remembered that the local timber mill had a small fire breakout that morning. It was quickly concluded that maybe something in the fire was what infected the town. Some of the employees at the mill reported that some of the trees that burned had an unusual purple glint to the bark.

When the timber mill was burned down by a late night act of arson, Mayor Johnathan Colver decided to make a public announcement concerning the event.

“Whatever strange act of pleasure we enjoyed, was not caused by human events,” the Mayor said. “I beleive the Devil himself is testing us and it is up to good honest men to resist these urges. We must deny the fast and easy pleasure and control ourselves. Go home to your wives and do things like God intended!”

Mayor Colver did not win re-election that year.

Apocafuck Scholars beleive that the trees with the purple bark may have been specimens of the rare Purpwood tree that has become extinct in California. The Yurok Native Americans told settlers that the trees with the purple bark were leftover penises from when the Earth was fucked into existence. They were warned to never cut them down unless there were times of great depopulation. Local settlers wiped out all known Purpwood trees in less than a year though there is no written record of what they were doing with all that wood.

Yurok legend says that one day the Purpwood trees will return and when they do, they shall cover the land until the trees outnumber the individual blades of grass.

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Feb 162009
 

The Cockman was sighted in rural parts of North Carolina between April 1971 and December 1973. Unlike the more popular Mothman sightings, the Cockman never achieved the same level of notoriety most likely due to the rather graphic nature of the creature. Newspapers and television shows couldn’t find a way to relay the story without discussing the profane elements of the creature.

What is known about the Cockman is the work of one investigative freelance journalist, Jake Hillman. Mr. Hillman spent a year researching the sightings and interviewing witnesses. He had evidence that the Cockman may have been spotted in his home town of Fort Macon, Georgia during the 60’s, which resulted in his sister becoming a stripper. After a month of research and an encounter with the mysterious Cockman, Mr. Hillman published his findings in the Septemeber 1975 issue of Omni.

The first Cockman sighting was made by two nurses, Heather Wilks and Michelle Desmond on April 19, 1971. They were driving home from the hospital and on a dark road, they saw a strange thing run out from the trees. They described the creature as “taller than a man but with a really big dong, like something a horse would be proud of. He was blue I think, and he didn’t really have a face. He had a halo on his head, though. It wasn’t a bright Halo like Jesus, more like a cheap halo you get if you buy your Jesus from the pharmacy.”

The nurses stopped the car and the thing ran off. The nurses said they tried calling out to it but it wouldn’t come back. After two hours of trying, they left.

They reported the sighting to the local sheriff’s department. The authorities were greatly amused by the story and insisted on having Michelle sketch the creature. The Sheriff’s department used to sketch to make a mock wanted poster for their bulletin board. The fake poster listed the creature as the Cockman.

The second sighting was made a month later by the Sherrif’s wife. She saw the Cockman lurking outside her backyard, stroking it’s massive member. She reported that she watched the creature masturbate for an hour before it left. She gave no credible reason for why she didn’t call authorities sooner. Two weeks later she left the Sherrif and moved in Jeff, the car mechanic, for what most witnesses described as a very torrid affair that lasted twenty years.

At this point, Cockman sightings became more prolific. He was spotted up and down the New River, appearing to boaters and fishermen. Mostly he was sighted by women who reported watching the Cockman for hours but never seeing a reason to call police till after he left. Women also reported feelings of lust, dissatisfaction with life and a desire to get the fuck out of North Carolina. Men who spotted the Cockman reported feelings of inadequacy, depression and in some cases, uncomfortable arousal.

Jake Hillman’s research discovered that most of the women who saw the Cockman radically changed their lives. Heather Wilks for example, left North Carolina and became the porn star, Dusty Whips. Michelle Desmond opened the first Sexual Aid store in Swansboro. Wendy Bower, a preacher’s wife in Jacksonville, left her husband and became Ms. Wet T-shirt for Topsail Island for three years in a row. There were also occasional outbreaks of women wearing inappropriate short skirts and low attendances at several churches.

The Cockman sightings reached a fever pitch on December 6th, 1973, when he revealed himself to a Girl Scout troop in Richlands. At this point the local citizens were outraged and organized hunting parties to find the smart ass monster that so greatly inflated the expectations of impressionable female minds. The owner of a Piggly Wiggly offered a 500$ bounty for the creature as well as a year supply of Marlboro cigarettes.

The creature was never sighted officially again. Mr. Hillman claims that he saw the creature on January 20th in the woods near Holly Ridge. He said that the creature’s signature cock was limp and dragging on the ground. He tried to take a picture of the Cockman but his camera refused to work. When he called out to the beast, it turned to him. The Cockman had no mouth but Mr. Hillman heard strange words in his head.

“I have come too early,” Mr. Hillman heard in his head. “The Apocafuck is not ready yet.”

Mr. Hillman reported that there was a burst of light and the Cockman was gone. He continued to monitor the local area for any more sightings or strange occurrences. Although the Cockman was never sighted again, the people he had flashed continued to live much more interesting lives.

Feb 022009
 

Ernie Kopper was born in 1942 in the Appalachian mountains of Tennessee. His mother was a preacher’s daughter and his father was a trapper. Raised with no formal education, Ernie took it upon himself to learn how to play the family’s fiddle. No one knew how to play the thing anymore but Ernie figured it out by his tenth birthday.

For years Ernie made a living playing his fiddle and traveling the most forsaken parts of the Appalachia. The country is harsh with little natural resources and often no infrastructure but Ernie loved that land and more importantly, he loved the stories and songs of the people that lived there.

In 1975, linguistic researchers from Duke University were in the area making recordings of the local dialect. The researchers discovered Ernie and tried to talk him into recording his songs. Erie was reluctant of having is talent taken away from the mountains but they finally found the right bribe. He recorded a massive 14 hour session for them in exchange for 3 gallons of the local moonshine and a copy of 1975 March issue of Playboy.

Among his recordings were several songs that may be related to the Apocafuck. Ernie claims all of his songs were gathered from the local people although some of his songs were obviously from other sources. For example, he had a rockabilly version of the Beatles, ‘She Loves You,Ya, ya, ya’ that clearly wasn’t composed by mountain recluses. Some of the songs discuss events happening in Europe while other songs seem related to current events.

When pressed about where these songs came from, Ernie told a fanciful tall tale. He said that he had a fiddle contest with a powerful with who called herself ‘The Singer’. He said they had a singing contest where the brids were the judges. If he lost, his cock would fall off. If he won, she would give him all the songs of the world and she would fuck him to boot.

Ernie claims she fucked his brains out so the new songs would have room to come in.

As a musician, Ernie was inspired. As a songwriter, he relies on questionable rhyming conventions and an even more questionable meter. Somehow he makes it all work through willpower, country charisma and some bad ass fiddle playing.

Presented here is one of his songs, ‘Slut of End Times’.

“Oh the Slut of the End Times is just raring to go,
She’s just waiting for the horn to come on down low,
She got a little dance for us, her body to show,
Show her tits, show her ass, Mmmm that show,
The show that makes men grow.

And the Slut of the End Times oh she’s got the biggest tits,
Bouncing like the salmon giving the men folk fi-its
The valley of her tits is just asking for your cock,
And if you spill your seed, the Slut of the End Times,
will lick up every bit.

And the Slut of the End Times, she’ll call you to the dance,
Which, running to her boy will be your only cha-ance,
She will dance with your grandpa, she will dance with your ma
She’ll dance with you under falling stars
till the last hurrah.

And the Slut of the End Times she will even love your wife,
She’ll hold you two close for the rest of your li-fe,
She never gets jealous oh you happy three,
The Slut of the End Times, she is the slut for me!

She never gets jealous oh you happy three,
The Slut of the End Times, she is the slut for me!”

Ernie Kopper still travels and is still playing his fiddle. At 67, he is supported mostly by his extended family of bastards that he has fathered. He says he has to keep practicing in case the Singer ever wants a rematch.

Jan 192009
 

In 2002, paleontologist Leonard Quincy had a promising and reputable career. Professor Quincy had already discovered four new species of dinosaurs and his research into the eating habits of raptors was setting the academic world on fire. When he was chosen to lead the Emsworth excavation in Colorado, many believed he would make discoveries that would rival the finds of any previous paleontologist. For the most part, he succeeded. He discovered 21 new species of dinosaurs at his dig site.

Unfortunately he also proposed a radical theory to explain the Cretaceous–Tertiary extinction event. This theory would ruin his career and caused the Emsworth Foundation to suffer terribly in sustaining future funding. Even today, most universities are casting doubt on his earlier discoveries, as if his insane theory had retroactively tainted his earlier scholarship.

Many scientists agree that a large asteroid smashed into the Gulf Of Mexico although they differ on how this asteroid may have resulted in the death of the dinosaurs. Some projections say that the resulting dust cloud would have cloaked the earth in a decade long winter. Other projections imply that firestorms caused by a planet wide debris would have incinerated the surface. Professor Quincy believed he had discovered an area that dated back to the same year as the Cretaceous–Tertiary extinction event. The area was abundant with fossils. He was tasked by the Emsworth Foundation to find a cause of death.

To Professor Quincy’s surprise, he found that there were multiple instances of the same species at his dig site. To add confusion to the dig, almost always the bones belonging to a particular species would be found on top of one another. It wasn’t till Quinn examined the photos of the intial digging that he came to a stunning conclusion: the dinosaurs were copulating at the time of their deaths.

In 2003, Professor Leonard Quincy proposed that whatever the asteroid was that struck the Gulf of Mexico, it must have been made of some sort of cosmic aphrodisiac. His examination suggests that the dinosaurs he found died of exhaustion and starvation, yet in the act of sex up to their point of death.

His incredible theory was that the dinosaurs fucked themselves to death. He called it the Doomsday Orgy Asteroid, or DOA for short. He believes it would account for the gradual collapse of the entire ecosystem.

The academic community were not pleased. His theory was rejected by the science journal, ‘Nature’ but more devastating to his reputation, his theories were thoroughly ridiculed by the commenters on Boing Boing. No one attempted to argue the science of the placement of the fossils Quincy discovered; they just pointed out what a dirty idea it was.

As for Leonard, he was fired by the Emsworth Foundation for bringing shame upon the reputable institute. His wife divorced him, and reported to the tabloids that her husband refused to have sex for fear of dying. His Doomsday Orgy Asteroid theory has never been seriously considered by the scientific community. Leonard Quincy lives in seclusion now although sometimes he is crank called by the radio show, Coast to Coast.

Apocafuck Scholars like to point out that if a cosmic asteroid with the power to cause a whole planet to fuck itself to death can crush into the Earth once, who’s to say that a second interplanetary aphrodisiac couldn’t crash into us today? And if it did crash, what chances would we have to resist the arousal induced space dust if the mighty dinosaurs couldn’t?