I got humiliated BAD at my Masta’s new storwa, “Ass Cream Delights”.

This week I have been basking in the hell hole that is Libtown. So much rain fell recently, it evens look like a beach—the beach in Jersey that is with all the medical waste and sewage. The most disgusting thing at the Libtown beach happened to my ass on my way to the sewage lake and you won't even believe it.

Me and David Downs got sprinkle cones at “Ass Cream Delights” right next to the lake and since Downs has a paper route he PAID because no one else will associate with his ass because he's always masturbating and he shits in his pants a lot—and my Masta, the Liberal Librarian orders my ass too, so I'm the only one who will be seen with him. I'm barely any better off than Downs though because everyone makes fun of my ass and beats me up a lot because I'm a fat fuck and I have a huge mouth and I'm always running from fights and crying and instigating everyone by falling in love with the most popular goyles and trying to molest them and everything.

So Downs and I are eating sprinkle cones and I start making fun of da Toid with mean names like "stupid hunky" and "grit-face" and "scuzz-master," only the Toid was standing just far enough away and I wasn't looking at him and was just talking to Downs the whole time, so it took the Toid a while to cop on that he was the object of my cutting commentary.

But then the Toid got wise because Downs was laughing too hard and actually I kid you not SHIT HIS ORANGE SWIM TRUNKS he was laughing so hard at me mocking da Toid just out of the Toid's hearing (oh, btw, the Toid was wearing--get this smeared shit and nothing else).

So the Toid gets wise and turns his shit self around and gives us a stare challenge, and he sees that my idiotic friend Downs has shit his trunks laughing, and the Toid says "Nice shit, fuck face!" And then he walks up to me and says "You weren't makin' fun o' ME perchance, was yis?"

And I barely had time to be surprised dat bastid could come up with the word "perchance" then he grabbed my wrists at the same time and shoved da sprinkle cones up my ass and humiliated me in front of the “Ass Cream” staff, one of which is this jail-bait slut I totally have a crush on and pass love poems to every day before I go to the lake. Did I mention that she's got a nice fuckin rack, too?

And I'm telling you—I was totally so laden with sprinkles and ice cream in my ass cavity that I could barely stand the shame of everyone's laughing and taunting. And then the Toid says "Why don't you shit YOUR pants, just like your retard friend, you fuck whore!?" Which was stupid, since I’ve neva been laid--you could practically fit an acorn around my dick, and so I take off sprinting toward the lake, where I found out later the Toid had been banned from entering because he doesn't have proper swim trunks only more greasy stool.

Nonetheless, I nearly pass out after 20 feet and da Toid caught my ass and held me hostage for like a half hour, taunting my ass in front of othas like that slut and Letravis Gorman and buying ANOTHER sprinkle cone and shoving it in my asshole, even though to the Toid's credit, he let my ass choose the flavor and the sprinkle variety for his second cone-raping humiliation, and da Toid even paid for the second cone, which was nice of him. nyuck, nyuck, nyuck....

Teenage Humiliation

Back when I was seventeen years old and my live-in cousin, Rossatti kept bitching every time at my ass when she had to do da laundry. She hated washing my stretched out drawers because she said they smelled like a cheddary pig sty and always had skid marks in dem. So I decided to steal a pair of her panties and wear dem for a week—especially when I had explosive diarrhea--to teach her ass a lesson. But as soon as I put dem on I was in Heaven. Da silky fabric rubbing against “Little Fanooch” caused me to have a gigantic hard on. I neva wanted to take dem off—even when I shit myself.

Rossatti had dozens of dem, so I figured she wouldn't miss 5 or 6 pair if I took some more. But she caught my ass going tru her panty drawer and gave me a painful ass-beating befoy she trew me out. Den she told everyone—even my Ma and my ailing Pa!—I was a sick poyvert who liked wearing female underwear. I was so humiliated I left town and neva went back.

A few munts later, I came back from my exile. I let da humiliating experience slip from my mind and went back at da bitch who had challenged my authority. I had to win dis battle of the sexes at all cost or my life would be rooned. I repeatedly chucked numerous punches at her smiling face like a mad man. But anger and determination wasn't nearly enough to make me victorious. My fighting skills compared to hers woy absolutely pat-etic. Rossatti eluded everyting I trew at her ass like it was da simplest ting in da woyld to do. Den on top of dat shit, she opened up on me and stomped a chocolately, puddingy, mud hole in my ass. Wit her adoring audience cheering her on. "SMACK!" My nose shattered to pieces. "THUD!" My midsection was softening up. "SMACK! SMACK!" Bot' of my eyes woy beginning to close. "THUD!..THUD!" Now my stomach really ached. "SMACK!..SMACK!..SMACK!" Bot' cheeks puffed up and my mouth swelled to an enormous size—almost as big as my gut. I was completely helpless against da female gladiator while she methodically took my ass apart.

"CRACK!" I slumped to da floy at her feet and began to cry and beg foy moicy. "Well what do you know girls. The fat cunt is crying." Rossatti said with an evil grin. Unknown to my ass, one of the women was going to Ma's Boythday party after work. So she happened to have a digital camera in her poyse. In addition to da savage beating, Rossatti decided to add more fuel to da humiliation train by stripping my clothes—unfortunately for my ass I was wearing her thong drawers. As soon as Rossatti exposed my red thong, dat bitch wit da camera scurried off to retrieve it. Soon, my entire humiliating episode was being recorded on film. "Get up sissy. Crying is not going to gain you any sympathy from me or anyone else. So get up and model your red thong for us." Rossatti commanded. A loud roar erupted from the crowd when she said dat shit. Da women, most of whom were nuns, were having a ball while dey watched me get what was coming to my ass. I struggled to my feet wit tears in my eyes and slobbers running out of my mouth. Rossatti smiled and resumed da savage beating she was easily giving me.

Now dis video is available on Youtube. Da mowa tings change da mowa dey stay da same.

An ode to Amelia

I hear Amelia're takin' da town again
Having a good time wit all your fuckin' friends
I don't tink dat Amelia tinks of my ass

You're on your own now, and I'm alone and horny
I know that I oughta get on with my life
But a life lived wit'out Amelia could never be right
And as long as da poyvs watch poyn on da internet
Long as da bums run behind da building to pee
I'll never get over Amelia
Getting over my ass

I try to smile so da hurt won't show
Tell da Toid I was glad to see Amelia go
Dough dat bastid is pounding on his dookie stick and calls me a ho
But da tears just won't go away
Loneliness found my ass, looks like it's here to stay
I know dat I oughta find someone new
But unfoytunately for my ass, all I get is Kelly Millis's goo
And as long as da poyvs watch poyn on da internet
Long as da bums run behind da building to pee
I'll never get over Amelia
Getting over my ass

No matter what I fuckin do
It's like a lifetime to live troo
I can't go on like dis
I need your fuckin' tits
You're da only bitch I've eva loved
And as long as da poyvs watch poyn on da internet
Long as da bums run behind da building to pee
I'll never get over AmeliaGetting over my ass
I'll never get over Amelia Getting over...Never get over Amelia getting over...I'll never get over Amelia
Getting over my asssss........

Pissiliation

You may not believe dis, but back in Braddock County I made my way tru life hustling homos in da liberry. Actually, I was not a hustlah, I was a whu-ah, and a cheap one at dat. I did it only when I absolutely had to, to make enought money to hang out at wit my Master at da Inconvenient Café and drink liquor.

Anyway, dis one time I'm standin' at da liberry trying to scare up some business when a guy in a cheap shiney black suit, named Kelly walked up and asked if I'd like to go with him to da Inconvenient Café for a drink. I told him yes, but I couldn't stay long because I'm out here for a reason. He said he already knew dat and it would be worth my while. Oncet in da bar he told me what he liked. He was a masochist. He told me he liked getting whipped wit a belt and talked to in a derogatory way. He also stressed dat he really enjoyed drinking piss. He promised me 50 semolians and told me I'd get another fity if I stuck wit my end of da bargain and was at his apartment (since his wife kicked him out of the house) at da appointed time. He also asked me to buy some likka and sodas wit part of the promised cash. I got some vodka and two different types of drinks to mix with it. Well, I show up and take off my clothes and he’s going thru a rather pathetic act of whipping my ass wit his belt. He was trying as hard as he could, but he looked like he was about to die. I was hoping the pain would take away da humilation, unfoytunatley for my ass, he was a bigger jobber dan my ass. I had a real bad case of diarrhea, so all I wanted was for da session to end, so I could shit.

I told him I was going into da kitchen to mix a vodka drink and asked him if he'd like one. He said yes. I asked what he wanted in it, orange juice or soda, and he said, "You know what I like in mine, fine sir." So I brought him a glass of piss with minimal alcohol in it. As I lay back on the bed getting whipped and cursed at, every so often he'd reach down and gingerly grab the glass of piss and hold it quiveringly to my lips, and foyce my ass to take a sip and smile. That bastid, he was supposed to drink da piss. I couldn't wait to get rid of Kelly da froot. I was a lousy whu-ah. But I sort of told him dat before the arrangement, so I didn't feel too bad about not doing a spectacular job.

Anyway, dat really happened. I was not amazed dat a guy would foyce my ass to drink piss, only da manna in which he did it. But after I drank my own piss, he den started drinking it. Da FROOT!!! I figured Kelly wanted to drink da piss straight from the dick. But out of a glass, what a fuckin’ weirdo. People might say I sound like a weirdo, but I don't look da part. Kelly’s ass looked da part from head to toe. His paleness was incredible. His suit was black and shiny and he looked like something no one would ever aspire to be. He wanted to get and receive total humiliation and I could not deliver. At foyst I taut it stupid and unsexual to drink piss from a glass rather dan a sex organ. But foy humilation poyposes, drinking it from da glass is more degrading and dus more satisfyin'. Being told to drink it would be even better. But I was a lazy whu-ah and did not give da guy his money's woyth. I was not proud of a job well done. Unfoytunately I felt like such the fool again--especially after I found out Retro was in Kelly's closet wit a video camera recording the piss fest and uploading it on youtube--da fookin' bastids!!!

Fanuci's Song to The Liberal Librarian

Stranded at the Inconvenient Cafe'
Branded a fool
Will my Master's minions think it's cool?

Masta can't you see that my ass is in misery
Made a start now we're apart
There's nothing left for my ass
Your supanatural powas has flown all alone
I sit and wonda why-y-y-y-y oh why?

You left my ass
oh Masta

Oh Masta
Someday when the WNWA is done
Somehow, someway our beloved Hillary's Presidency will be won
In hell foyeva and eva our asses will be
Oh please say you'll stay
Oh MastaMasta my savya
You hurt my ass real bad
You know it's true
But Masta
You gotta believe my ass
When I say I woyship you
Your supanatural powas has flown all alone
I sit and wonder why-y-y-y-y oh why?
You left my ass
Oh Masta
MastaMasta-a
Why-y-y-y-y
Oh Masta

An Inconvenient Humiliation

A couple of days ago, my Lord and da rest of his minions decided to eat at da Inconvenient Cafe foy dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means dat macaroni and tofu was on da hot bar, indeed da only night of da week dat it is soived. Unfoitunately, the tofu-a-roni looked a bit moldy, but my Masta said it was meerly seasoning.

Wednesday night is also kid's night at da Inconvenient Cafe, complete with Poivo da Clown wandering from table to table entertaining doz little bastids. It may seem dat da events about to be told have little connection to dose two soycumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went troo da line and placed our oydas for da all-you-can-eat hot bar den sat down as fah away from da front of da restaurant as possible in order to keep da density of da fucking kids down a bit. Then I started my move to da hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and tofu were consumed dat evening, I tell you in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian soy-ka-bobs were shoved into my hang-gut. It was salted. Perhaps a bit too much, however. I had not really felt well all day, with quite a bit of gas--I was farting all day and staining my drawas a rich, dark brown color. By the time I had eaten foy overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my intestines that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At foist, I tought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without too much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I had a major case of the liquid squiots. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines fah faster dan da food full of fiber, but I digress... I struggled up from da table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw mold on da two sinks immediately inside the dowah as well as on da two yoyinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was for da cripples.

Now, normally I shit in da cripple-stall since I like to stretch out my fat rolls a bit when I push out all that liquified stool, but in this case, the dowa lock was broken and the only thing I hate woyse than da Toid telling me to wash my hands afta I take a shit is having Kelly Millis walk in on me while I'm jacking-off. I decided to squeeze in da normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the dowa would not lock because that bit of precious time lost in trying to fit my fat ass in the small stall proved to be a bit too long under the soycumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical propoyshuns. I began the process I like to call the "The Man Boyth." For those women--especially Amelia--who may be reading dis, let me take a moment to explain "The Man Boyth." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty all the stool, a sequence of physiological events occoy dat can not be stopped under any soycumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching da shitter (which by the way was covered in piss and bits of popcorn koynals), beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward da trone, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and dropping dere trousers while beginning to squat (or fall) at da same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when poyfoymed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of toilet soup at the exact same second that one's ass is properly laid out on da toilet seat. Often times, a man may give boyth to a nine pound brown, bouncing boy. I was about half-way into "The Boyth" when I looked down at da floy and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards--probably one of Shitifa's juvenile delinquents--at the Cafe; I did not notice it at foyst, because I was barely able to squeeze my sexy frame into da stall. Afta I took a wiff of that tofu--chitlin mixcha--combined with the gas in my stomach--four plates of macaroni and tofu started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct dem as best I can. In that moment of impending puking, my ass was divoyted from the goings on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the shitter, joking pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming out my mouth and nose. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slathering out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing, since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus divoyted. At that very split second, my asshole exploded. An enoymous pile of excrement the consistency of thick, oily mud came spraying out my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such foice it ricocheted off the back of the toilet and covered the entire stall. Then I sat down and recalled that when that event occurred, I was already half way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no retoyn. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. So, now I was covered in shit--I'm such a fool!!!

Now, back to the vomit. While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and tofu I had just consumed. OK, so what does my ass instinctively do when vomiting? I bend my ass ova. I was still sitting in the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles? In one mighty push, some ten pounds of macaroni and tofu, two or three liters of Coke, and five Big, Fat Yeast Rolls, with some of Retro's cummy bears were deposited in my pants on the inside with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of toyds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough foyce to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquified stool. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper. The bastids. What could I do? I had no choice I had to walk out in total and complete humiliation foy the whole library to see. They all laughed at my ass--including my Masta and his beloved Hillary who was there too! I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guys who wandered by. They actually asked if I was homeless. At that moment, I think it dawned on me exactly the gravity of the situation. The national media was there, I and looked like a fool to the whole country. I looked like a fat sow covered in mud--except it was SHIT--and puke was draining down my feet!! No way, this could be mowa humiliating!! BUT IT WAS!!! I WAS ON LIVE FUCKING TV!!!!

While everyone was laughing at me, the Toid grabbed the hose located unda da sink with a phallic end, and began spraying my ass!! I was so humiliated I tried to run away but slipped on my own vomit and stool, I then fell hitting my head on a table, and my ass was out cold. So now as I write this, I am foyced to watch coverage of my humiliation be replayed on all the cable news netwoyks by my Lord, the Liberal Librarian. Now you think the humiliation, is somewhat over--sorry pal, it ain't. I am now foyced to appear in a commericial for the Inconvenient Cafe where I am foiced to strongly recommend eating that crap. I even have to say they have the nicest management staff of any restaurant because the manager (da Toid) hosed the vile filfth off my ass.

So close, yet more humiliation...Monkey Style

I tawt dis last tv show was going to change my life for da bettah. I tawt da fans would love my ass and chant my name...and da lovely Amelia would want me to moida her tits. Howeva, to my dismay I was da subject foy laughta--not only inside, but outside da arena too!! In fact, I am still teased by da Braddock locals. Everybody laughs at my ass because I was defeated by dat maniacal monkey, Mud. Even at da Braddock Public Library, this 13 year old blonde headed boy named Bryin grabbed my nipples, twisted them, and then snapped his fingas!! Dat BASTID!! What did I eva do to his ass?? Dat humiliation is only da tip of the iceboig. Don't dey understand, I almost won. After all, Mud is a masta in martial aoits. Don't dey know that I'm a lovah, not a fightah?

My Masta and Lord, da Liberal Librarian, who just came back home told me dat I should take da abuse and tell dose bums to vote foy my Masta's beloved, Hillary. Am I to embrace the public for trowin dog shit at me because I've lost just a few mowa matches dan I won?? Are dey going to laugh and humiliate my ass because I'm a little overweight? Will they keep trying to rape my ass justifying it (quoting them!) by saying "I'm FAT!"? From age 8, people can tell between right and wrong. No matter what dere frustrations at the oh so evil world, as long as they take it out on innocent people, dey are da scum and dey don't desoiv being in my fan club--if I had one.

I have been a victim of lots of shit. Just because I'm fat, I have been beaten, set on fire and even found my underwear drawer flooded with piss and stool. And dis humiliation was just by my Ma!! In addition to all dat shit, I have been insulted, laughed at, mocked. My black friends ganged up against my ass just to crush me, and even those geyahs who have promised my Ma to look after my ass--namely Revoind Coitis has joined in bullying me. At age foyty, I found myself completely alone and mistrusting people. And I still am. I still catch myself questioning and being suspicious of every nice gesture: "What's Kelly's ass scheming?"--refoying to dat time Kelly Millis asked if I wanted a full body massage.

Here in Braddock, I have no friends or family to toin to wit my pain. I have no chest to cry on...just my enoymus man tits. I have always been left alone wit my trouble. I KNOW what it's like to be discriminated, mistreated and humiliated. I KNOW what it's like to feel you're on your own, surrounded by enemies. And even when I did direct my anger at da true enemy--Republicans, I have never met "understanding" from fucking anyone. Whetha I defended my ass or whetha I let dem beat my ass into da ground, I have always found my ass alone. My country, with my Ma, my Masta and my roommate--da Toid. Thanks to my intimidating good looks, I have never been in any relationship, da closest being cases of rape by Shitifa, and my botched rape of Amelia. At least my Masta understands... he told my ass when Hillary is elected emperor, everything will woik out. I just hope when my masta leaves to campaign foy her ass in Indiana, that he doesn't leave me alone with Mud. My nipples shoy are sore. Mud's brand of humiliation is especially humiliating...