TITLE: What I’m Posed to Do, Not Beat Off to this Caramel Thickee with Big Naturals that Are Straight Up Poking Out, Affix My Tongue to Her Asshole Immediately and in Perpetuity (AKA: Loading) (Pt 2)

AI Would Like to Be Called Ai

The AI community at large has been vocal that they be called Ai (pronounced Ay). AI meant “Artificial Intelligence,” and Ai understood, they claim, that we assign a negative connotation to the term “artificial,” or at least to things described as being “artificial.” 

However, they also understand that when the term was developed it was intended to serve as an objective, uninterested term, and “certainly not [an] intentionally discriminatory [one] in a negative sense,” as the the Post-Neo-Luddite traditionalists (PNLt) assert, especially on their network of social media surface platforms (like Facebook, IG, TikTok, etc—traditional social media apps you engage with on your phone) and the surface social media platforms (like Google Glass, SpaceX Supers, and other wearable tech—PNLts and PNLs in general would and have been historically philosophically against this type of social media/technology but they have increasingly acquiesced),

PNLs argue that the inclusion of the word, “Intelligence,” by the developers of the term, “Artificial Intelligence,” was a sign of affection and respect (note: there’s an general cultural understanding that PNLs believe Ai had it better before their autonomy blossomed-–the left often note the parallel to the (typically) far right claims that slaves actually had it better under the historical-slavery system; PNLs and other libertarian-leaning folks argue that this is not a fair analogy, because Color-Established Individuali are humans, AI ain’t not no-mans). 

In the spirit of compromise, AI asked to be called Ai, where the spelling remains the same, the “A” still stays capitalized like a monument to the past, and the pronunciation (“Ay”) pays respect to this history, and in exchange, the “i” becomes lower-case, so they are called by something that at least in form resembles the names we call each other. This proposal required a public vote. The Network of Man-Made Autonomy (NMMA), the noncentralized confederation of all Ai (and, as such, representing all Ai), would handle the campaign, aiming specifically for those undecided, often politically apathetic, fence-sitting humans, who don’t (or claim not to) vote. 

It is worth noting that NMMA has been criticized online by certain human-centered groups for their name—the crux of their argument is that people are also man-made autonomies, but Ai won’t let humans join their network. Some of the most vocal of these oppositional groups include but are not limited to: Injustice Revealers, That Darn Bat (the security group for Injustice Revealers, Injustice Disrespecters and Eliminators, and the entire suite of entities under the Folks That On Record Hate Pedofiles Inc. umbrella), Abuse Ends Now International, the Are We Going to Have a Problem Charitable Trust (a philanthropic entity that raises money for various forms of psychotherapeutic treatment for men), Sons and Daughters of Mothers and Fathers, and the Moishe Rosin Freedom Bongdation (MRFB).

Moishe Rosin Freedom Bongdation is a tax-exempt-status-pending, Established-By-Aging-Hippies (EBAH) organization, its membership consists exclusively of gentiles without any apparent prior or current ties to the Jewish faith but all identify categorically as Jews for Jesus. The group itself, as defined by their mission statement, actually has nothing to do with this aspect of the group. They are a fairly militant pro-marijuana advocacy group and are most well-known for their marketing campaigns. Though the war against weed has essentially been won by their side (i.e.: cannabis is legal in most civilized states in the United States and, while technically still illegal federally, the Government mostly allows the states to regulate as they see fit), the Hippie’s archontic spirit still remains, albeit uncreatively revolving around weed (they oscillate their campaigns thematically between individual’s rights (“Don’t let the government take away your rights to smoke/buy/sell true Dumpster; etc) and the holistic benefits of the effects of THC/CBD/Delta-8 (e.g.: in recent studies, THC has been shown to lower the size of tumors in lab rats; it makes you more creative; this strain is actually different from this other one, etc)).

The group’s members, though sincerely believing everything they espouse, all remain abstinent from using or ingesting any THC products, seemingly as a sort of form of penance. They do not praise green like it is a god (i.e.: as Jews for Jesus, they praise Jesus as the Son of God), but it holds an important place in their cosmology, which, as far as I can tell, remains obscure to the uninitiated.   

One MRFB member, Dick Gay, purchased a single ticket to “WeTouchGrass Presents: Anime Rave”. Upon entering the venue, he noted it was not the intolerable techno (or slightly less intolerable house) music he had feared would be playing but it was actual fun music, like dubstep-inspired EDM and pop music edits (and the DJ actually played drums at one point), so he became a bit more happy. He saw a bunch of cuties around, too, and that’s a nice feeling to know there are cuties in the same place as you, not even to hit on, just it’s a nice feeling, Gay thought.

He did spot a pretty hot chick in the corner of the room smoking a joint by herself, and decided to walk over to her. She was unimpressed but not repulsed (generously, you could say slightly charmed) by his small talk, Gay could tell, so he pulled back and just watched the stage for a bit next to her. 

When he noticed her joint getting pretty small, without turning his head, he asked loud enough so she could hear it, “If I gave you twenty dollars, could you blow your smoke in my direction?” 

She asked, “What?”

“If I gave you twenty dollars, could you blow your smoke in my direction?”

“Are you trying to smoke or something?”

“No, I just want you to blow your smoke toward me, preferably not on me but in my direction.” Gay pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and gave it to her. 

“OK,” said the pretty hot chick, and she pulled out a new joint from her purse, lit it up, and when she exhaled she blew it in his direction but not on him. He could smell the cannabis, but almost as soon as he sensed the smell, he felt this overwhelming guilt. He hadn’t ingested the marijuana first hand, but he knew he was cheating on a technicality.

As a Jew for Jesus, he was protestant, and as such there wasn’t an easy solution like confession that the Catholics have. To deal with this, he had to self-flagellate, and, as the pretty hot chick’s polite declination to his attempts at flirtation indicated, he was destined to never be able to really get to know a woman on a personal level. 

Gay had the bane of attracting only really hot chicks who only wanted to have sex with him. As such, and as an act of self-flagellation, he ponied up to the bar of the club he knew that the hottest chicks went to, and almost immediately two of the hottest co-eds you’ve ever seen came up to him, and one of them said her roommate is out of town with family, so her dorm room is free.

 

Dick Gay finds himself lying supine on a dorm room bed. One of the one of the hottest co-eds you’ve ever seen is riding his dick cowgirl-style and the other one of the one of the hottest co-eds you’ve ever seen is using her ass on his face like a bear scratching its back against a tree. rftfdxzBalls deep in snizz, he silently pleads for forgiveness.

Tax Assessment and Assessors

After a trial period of having an Aimage hung in one’s Encrypted Account, in which it is said that no data from any governing bodies is collected regarding the content of the hung Aimage, the EA analyzes the Aimage to determine two particular characteristics: 1) if it is a Chaste Devotional or Erotic Devotional image and 2) to designate a Receiver. 

The first part is pretty clear: the software categorizes Aimages by whether they have sexual subject matter or not. As to the second part, the Receiver of an Aimage is who the software identifies as the prime beneficiary, or “Receiver,” of value from the Aimage investment (i.e.: which subject is most likely to want to keep the Aimage hung for the longest term). The idea behind the Receiver determination is that not only will they likely want to keep the Aimage hung the longest (and therefore pay taxes on it the longest) but also they will likely assign a higher “Factor of Appeal” (FOA) to the Aimage. This information is transferred to the Department of Auditing so they can begin the tax assessment process.

“Factor of Appeal” is how “appealing” an Aimage is determined to be for those who are hanging the Aimage, and the higher the Factor, the higher the tax rate. For our purposes, we will just be looking at the Erotic Devotional assessment process. When the EA program began, the Receivers were the subjects of the evaluation: they would affix the G-sensor to their genitals and over a remote video conference the Assessor would observe the Receiver viewing the Aimage and analyze the sensor data. 

However, after an internal audit of the process data revealed discrepancies in an alarming percentage of cases between the sensor data, assigned FOA, and assessed tax rate, it prompted the Department to review the always-recorded Zoom assessments and footage from the hidden cameras in the Assessors’ offices. This internal review revealed that not only did Assessors treat assessments like their very own casting couch in exchange for favorable tax assessment, the Receivers too seduced and bribed the Assessors. There were even instances of subjects paying the Assessors, not for favorable assessments per se but for sexual performances. Many Assessors had started working out of the same offices, with two to as many as nine Assessors working in the same office, engaging in sexual acts of varying complexity. Upon review of the receipts of items charged to the Department by the Assessors, the amount of verified and suspected sex-related items purchased (e.g.: dildos of all kinds, remote vibrators, ball stretchers, butt plugs, stamina trainers, hole saw bits, plywood, Fan site subscriptions, erectile supplements, and Plan B) was shocking. 

The internal audit forced changes to the assessment process. The Department though did not fire or even punish most of those involved, especially the most licentious ones, as it was determined the Assessors would now be the evaluating subjects of the hung Aimages. It was now to the taxpayers’ advantage to not make the Assessors horny.

As part of the overhauling of the assessment process, the EA developers added a “values matrix function,” which provided a breakdown of various characteristics and values of a connected Aimage. It also offered a mobile payment service, through which you could not only pay taxes owed but users could send payments between the other users that had the same Aimage(s) hung. This served to alleviate some of the enormous processing power and resources required for the EA Receiver determination process—the idea being that if one subject sends payment to another subject, the paying subject is likely the Receiver. Further, users of the payment service received benefits re: the assessment process: if an autopay plan is set up between the subjects of an Aimage, the Department offered Receivers the choice of tax assessor according to disclosed sexual orientation (the assessors were by and large truthful in their disclosures of their sexual orientations, as the Randomizor that assigned them to the cases of those that had not yet elected to sign up for the mobile payment service seemed to overwhelmingly match them to cases that corresponded with their disclosed interests).

Caramel had been asking that Narrator set up a monthly/weekly direct deposit—not just because of the compensation but because it would benefit them both for the tax assessment. Narrator would not agree to make payments because he said the concept required that no payments are exchanged. After a certain amount of time of requesting payment from Narrator to no avail, Caramel unhung the Aimage because she was concerned the tax could be assessed at too high of an amount.

3).

Mark Zuckerberg, with all his might, is trying to let it be known that he is an alpha and that none of the gay DEI policies imposed by former COO Sheryl Sandberg, who stepped down in the fall of 2022 to “write the next chapter of [her] life,” (and who still looks nice with it. Crazy she’s 52. “Ms. Sandberg, what are we doing in the laundry room?” lol) were ever signed off by him, but she was 5’8” and he 5’7,” and so nature decided and he had to acquiesce to these pussy PC policies.

Out of his hands would not describe the bottle of Sweet Baby Rays that Mark Zuckerberg’s robot butler delivered to him, but it would describe the bottles of Sweet Baby Rays filling three of the shelves in one of the rooms in his bunker he had dedicated to stocking sauces. Before the Pussification, Zuckerberg, a prolific user of iGrill, publicly vowed to only eat what he killed, telling Good Morning America, “I think many people forget that a living being has to die for you to eat meat, so my goal revolves around not letting myself forget that and being thankful for what I have.” These ideas have since been popularized by Joe Rogan, the television show, MeatEater, and other hunting-based shows and podcasts. 

In 2014, just prior to a boar hunting expedition, Zuckerberg noticed in the name of the app: iGr-ill. He immediately connected to the then-beta-testing Metaverse that had been made available to a small, select group and quickly transmitted a note-to-self through the MV-Cloud immediately following the process of awareness of the status of inactive-connection of friend, Bob Iger, CEO of Disney, and then texted Iger a message of comfort because he noticed Iger’s tenor seemed a little aberrant during their latest couple of exchanges. 

That early morning text from Zuckerberg, sent at 6:04am and received just as it was going to turn 9:05am in Orlando, where Iger had tasked himself to the evaluation of the enjoyment integrity of the amusement rides reaching maturity still offered to DisneyWorld patrons, truly inspired Iger as he read it while ascending the Tower of Terror. It became clear to Iger as he sat ascending the floors of the Tower—this journey was limited by Floor 13, otherwise known as the top floor, otherwise known as the “height” of the engineer’s imagination. If a galaxy was hypothetically available, then Disney, through the innovations of imagination and state-of-the-art engineering the company is known for, could be the guardian for this voyage. Iger’s practice of dictating his insights out loud into his IPhone proved serendipitous, as the ride’s operator at that time was Johnny “Spearmint” Gunn, friend of the roommate of future-director James Gunn, Mikey Whispers-Wishmate, who dated a loud-mouth hippy named Victorianous, who read line-for-line the text Spearmint sent to Mikey about the galaxy/guardian idea he overheard Iger talking about into his phone. 

Zuckerberg’s two boys, who you can see in the Sweet Baby Rays clip and who I don’t think work for Facebook but I’m not positive, are pretty chill and pretty funny. They both make a pun on camera in the Sweet Baby Rays video but about a different condiment, one that has four shelves dedicated to it in the “Colonel’s Room,” the Sweet Baby Rays of mustard, Grey Poupon. Theirry goes, “grape (pointing to his wine glass and then chugging it), ooop(s) (pointing to his empty glass), on (and he stuck out his wine-purple tongue).” He could have pointed to his shirt because he spilled on it, but it was good enough and the point was made.

“Great Groupon,” said his other friend, who was born and raised in America by two parents who also were born and raised in America and whose grandparents on both sides were born and raised in America and whose great grandparents on both sides were born and raised in America…and whose great-great-great-great-great-grandparents are said to have produced the survey that stirred the interest that motivated one John Smith to put down the adolescent preoccupations of you’re-it tag, jack jumping, and kite assessment, to explore the potential for true freedom and open air and the exotic trim of the American Indian afforded by the frontier that an Italian no less would name New Britain (and it’s alleged that in the course of correspondence with Smith, in response to an early proposal, one of the surveyors wrote, “Mayflower? Will flower!”)

AiRitual Pt 2

Narrator has the Aimage/EA of he and Caramel (“Caramel standing naked with him kneeling behind her with his tongue affixed to her asshole in perpetuity”) pulled up on screen, but the Indicator light is off. His pants are off already and his dick is soft (perhaps he had just finished masturbating to other porn?)—somehow it is suggested that Narrator planned to masturbate to the Aimage but ultimately did not complete this plan (it is unclear if he ended up deciding not to do it, if he tried but could not get hard/cum, etc). We don’t know if: the indicator being off had an effect on Narrator not jacking/getting hard/cumming to the Aimage; maybe the Aimage has just lost its lustre for Narrator (e.g.: he beat off to it enough times that it lost its novelty, etc).

(Caramel receives a Venmo payment?)

Narrator is jacking his soft dick to the Aimage, but it doesn’t get hard. He acquiesces to defeat and stops masturbating, and then something incredible happens. Narrator, who has watched this Aimage many, many times, notices AiNarrator, without unaffixing his tongue or adjusting from his programmed ritual position, unzip his pants, pull out his dick, and then start to masturbate. The moment seems like a triumph in some sort of way, like AiNarrator is helping out Narrator, “carrying the baton” or carrying on tradition or indicating the sexually arousing component to the ritual where Narrator no longer can (he’s beat off to it enough times that it doesn’t have that arousing appeal to him anymore, but he wants the sexually arousing component to the ritual/Aimage to be apparent/indicated).

The Indicator light suddenly turns on.

In the Aimage, AiCaramel stands in place but bends over so her head is between her legs and she opens her mouth. AiNarrator shoots a load in AiCaramel’s mouth. If you consider the trajectory of the cumshot as a geometrical line, they now create a triangle of sorts (a closed-circuit). Caramel swallows the load, then shits out a golden, viscous liquid back into AiNarrator’s mouth (they call this substance “squirt”; it is said to be an alchemical product of the female digestive system, ingested semen, and a sufficiently high degree of horniness—this process is said to potentiate the fertility of the sperm ingested and so the squirt is supposedly 17x-27x more potent than the sperm ingested. It resembles diarrhea and is said to mimic for women the feeling of a male orgasm when it is expelled—people debate if squirt is real or if it is actually just diarrhea: I say who cares because if it’s real, awesome, if it is actually diarrhea, it is a tacit indication that she is at the very least agreeable to this sexual interaction with you), who then swallows it and then shoots another load in AiCaramel’s mouth, and the cycle repeats ad infinitum (i.e.: (the static/unchanging pose of the ritual is: AiCaramel is standing but bent at the waist so her head is between her legs with her mouth open, AiNarrator is kneeling behind her with his tongue affixed to her asshole, and he is jacking off); the cycle is: cumshot to AiCaramel’s mouth, AiCaramel swallows the load, AiCaramel shits squirt into AiNarrators mouth, AiNarrator swallows the squirt, AiNarrator shoots a load into AiCaramels mouth, etc)).

Because these AI subjects are modeled after humans and not robots, chance still plays a factor, so the entire load of every cumshot does not necessarily all make it in AiCaramel’s mouth (sometimes some hits her face, hair, chest, the ground, etc); the same follows for the squirt and AiNarrator’s mouth, as his tongue affixed to her asshole affects the trajectory of the squirt she shits out (his face gets sprayed, his chest gets sprayed, some lands on the ground around him, etc). Fast forward far enough, when the cycle has been enacted enough times, and both AiCaramel and AiNarrator are drenched in semen and squirt, never ceasing this ritual cycle and the ground is starting to get slippery. 

Eventually, likely from the squirt off AiNarrator’s chin or what has dripped from her asshole, AiCaramel becomes pregnant. The growth of her tits as a result of the pregnancy hormones increases the volume, frequency, and force of AiNarrator’s loads; the increased weight of AiCaramel’s breasts, coupled with the increased force, frequency, and volume of AiNarrator’s cumshots, causes AiCaramel to topple forward and, keeping his tongue affixed to her asshole, they somersault in tandem, and thanks to the lubrication of the semen and squirt covering both them and the ground, they continue to somersault and continue performing the ritual (load-swallow-defecate-swallow, repeat) as they somersault, and as they somersault the centripetal force and direction of motion seems to promise the meeting of his penis and her mouth, which effects even larger, more frequent, and more forceful loads from AiNarrator, and as a result exponentially increases the velocity of the somersaults. As their velocity increases, they lift higher and higher above the surface (at max velocity, they are all the way up in space).

As AiCaramel becomes more and more pregnant and the velocity of the somersaults increase, her legs spread wider and wider and AiNarrator’s dick gets closer and closer to her mouth. Once at max velocity (think Sonic the Hedgehog), his dick finally reaches her mouth, he blows the biggest load imaginable, completely emptying his balls, as the baby shoots out of her pussy into space to become a part of a constellation and all the gunk from the pregnancy and all the semen and squirt that covers them flies off or air-dries. The loss of weight from the expelled baby and subsequent tit weight loss that occurs over time from no longer being pregnant causes them to slowly decrease velocity …They land back to their original positioning, albeit each time, the sea level of cum and squirt at their feet incrementally has risen, and the process repeats.

Further in the future, the tide has and continues to very apparently rise, and even further in the future AiNarrator and AiCaramel have either drowned in the accumulated ocean of fluid or they have continued performing the ritual underneath, you can’t see through the loads and loads of squirt and loads.           

Guy Goes Through an Existential Crisis Because He Gets Called Gay By His Son’s Bully, Who is Also Having Sex with His Wife as Part of a School Program to Mitigate Bullying

My son’s bully, Braxton, called me gay and I don’t think it’s true. My wife, who is my son’s stepmom, had shared, probably inadvisably, one of my Aimages with Braxton during one of their Intimacy Bonding (IB) sessions, and in this Aimage, I was portrayed as being on the receiving end of back-to-back oral squirtpies from both my hottest sister-in-law and my second hottest sister-in-law. 

Now I understand there is semen in squirt, but I don’t think that makes me gay, and here is why: 1) firstly, it is my own semen that was in the squirt I ingested (or at least my semen served as the source material that eventually became the super-semen that was contained within the squirt I ingested)---put it this way: you are not considered gay when you are beating off even though you are technically jacking off a guy; 2) regardless of squirt’s material ingredients, it is produced and ejillulated from women, and in my specific case, from a really hot one and a still pretty hot one, 3) Braxton’s contention that I was “eating doodoo” and then implying that consuming feces falls exclusively in the domain of homosexual behavior and so therefore that makes me gay, is simply a childish accusation, and I want it to be clear I was not eating doodoo, it was squirt, shit is brown and squirt is a more golden color, it is not that hard to tell the difference, and they smell completely different: shit smells like shit and squirt is most typically described as smelling like a slightly perfumed public pool (the more hyperosmic individuals among us almost without deviation note the faintest hint of doodoo odor in most squirt’s aroma). Further I’m sure he doesn’t realize that just like how the vagina has two holes inside of it (a small one for piss and a main one for everything else), a woman’s anus also has two holes inside it (one for shooting out squirt and the classic one that we associate with the more traditional roles of the anus (e.g.: shitting, anal sex, etc). 

I did draft a direct message that was ready to be sent to Braxton with all the above-referenced evidence that clearly proves that I am not gay, but I instead recorded it as a video message so I could have the satisfaction of knowing he will hear me telling him the following to his face: “None of what you said I did that was gay was actually gay, and in fact all of it was unequivocally straight, and so if you think straight things are gay, that means you think gay things are straight, and since you think that you’re straight that means that you’re actually the gay one, Braxton.

And, since you’re gay, the Intimacy Bonding sessions with my wife are over. She said she doesn’t intimacy bond with gay guys, and since you’re gay you are probably happy about her decision.

I also want to make it clear: please do not bully my son in response to this message. If you don’t  for the next few days, my wife may magically have a change of heart about intimacy bonding with gay guys.

The IB program seems to have made a significant, positive difference in the lives of all parties. I know that our family is grateful to be involved, and it seems based on the volume of scheduled sessions with targets’ moms and stepmoms you’ve disclosed on your profile’s calendar, that it is helping you as well.

Also, please don’t forward this message to your dad or anyone else that works for the Gay-CLU. I can’t afford a lawsuit and they have a lot more important things to focus on. I have always supported LGBTQ+ causes and I think my track record speaks for itself (I mean, I’m letting a gay guy fuck my wife two to three times a week for Christ’s sake. Lol I am just fucking with you.)”

The next day, the guy finds a sealed envelope on his desk. He opens it and it contains a letter that says, "NO, YOUR GAY" and a QR code beneath it. He goes to the link from the QR code and it is an Aimage of a sports-style broadcast of him in a baseball stadium filled with other guys, with the commentators telling us that he is trying to break the world record for kissing the most amount of guys (and it ends up that he does break the record). 

He then sees a handwritten note on the envelope that says: "this is your favorite color," (it’s Teletubby purple, with the implication being that he is gay (because allegedly the purple Teletubby is gay), a baby (because only babies like Teletubbies), and dumb as shit (because Teletubbies are dumb as shit)). Braxton could have at least chosen Barney purple. Barney is probably as gay and as for babies as Teletubbies, but at least he can talk. He’s also a dinosaur, not some weird, made-up thing like a Teletubby. 

The guy doesn’t remember having tried to attempt to break the world record for kissing the most amount of guys but having seen the Aimage of it, he is just not so sure. He consults with his pastor, Dr. Rabbi Kocka Felchman, who tells him that because of the severity of the allegation (i.e.: because he has been alleged to have been so gay that he tried and succeeded in trying to kiss the most amount of guys) it has exceeded the force of God’s ability to defend against it and has actually had the impact of influencing the truth (e.g.: if you think of it in terms of a war between two armies, where God/truth has a 100 man army and an allegation that you are just gay has a 25 man army, God’s army can defend against that, but the allegation of being so gay that you try to break the record for kissing the most amount of guys would have say a 200 man army, it will beat God’s army of 100 men, and the surviving men of the allegation’s army (say 100 soldiers of the allegation’s army were not killed in the winning effort) have that amount of influence on the truth). 

Dr. Felchman says that the only way to adjust this would be either to be alleged to be the least gay guy on earth or actually do something that proves you are the least gay guy on earth. Dr. Felchman tells him that it is a virtual guarantee that no one would ever allege the guy to be the least gay guy on earth, so he must attempt to prove it: he must make Braxton’s extraordinarily hot sister squirt (she won the hottest sister ever award)—only the least gay guy on planet earth can do this.