Otuko

[Expletive]

Lying in his bed beguilingly spent, the Otaku embraces the coming darkness that purposefully dulls the accusations of his conscience; lube secured beneath his bed in case of mother?s intrusion; the method of his release logged off from its OS lying next to him; its cookies cleared, its history expunged, the Otaku finally, sleeps. His room a tell-tale of his culture; mangas, anime, hentai, and doodads, odd-ends, descriptively everything and all in between; magical boxes also blissfully asleep needing only the ruffle of a mice to stir them awake. To add to his nature, or stature of overt excessive fandom, are characters of all sorts and makes, and not necessarily toys, since many of them dabble into the extraneous, and the bizarre; made by Todd McFarlane studios, and is produce of Clive Barker presents; demons and trolls, ogres, and vampires, villains and heroes, aliens and hentai statuettes---even replica guns, and blades, knives and swords; not a bedroom at all, but a treasure trove of the weird, and fantastic, salacious and horrible.
Into this alcove of imagination and nightmares creeps the Forever Keeper; the Eminence Grise of the lost secrets; the final moments; the never-were, and the forever-lost. Mortal observations aside about its personage, the Keeper of Nevermore gradually settles, its essence atop the Otaku?s bed, and purposefully wills the data pad to Its embrace. In a flicker of time too short to see, the data pad?s OS was not only rekindled, but its last action which led to the Otaku?s release was once more displayed. For the Otaku the volume had been muted, but the Forever Keeper cared nothing for such precautions, and had the pad at its highest setting. The Otaku stirred from slumber and doubted for a moment that the image his eyes drank actually existed, or it was the result of losing precious minerals through seminal fluids, or the lack of sleep the pleasurable release necessitated; like a raging fire, the Otaku gobbled intellectually the viscera of BBW?s, Gilfs, Milfs, and all in between.
?Whose there,? asks the Man-child feeling a new pressure building within; the need of fright or flight. But the Forever Keeper didn?t respond, and in truth, it didn?t care to; words had no meaning to the Abyss, only it?s Purposeful Intentions spoke volumes; instructing its victims; disciplining the Wailing Ones. The Otakue sprang from his bed, already piddling his boxers with a new liquid, adding to the protein stain that had almost dried therein; adding to the dank sweat smell with one that was unmistakable in its casting---the smell of fear.
The Otaku?s mind found a million reasons of how or why, and eventually fell back on the reality that this isn?t happening and it must be a dream. But, the Drab of Shadows arose from the ruffled bed, pad in its embrace, and points a Long Reach at the Otaku, who, at this point, spun about, and made a mad dash for the bedroom door. But, not before the Stretch in the Shade touched him from the Many Shadows, and paralyzes the Otaku immediately. Now on the ground, looking up at the shadows arcing from his many possessions, the Otaku felt himself being lifted into the air, and thrown across his bed as, The Forever Keeper hangs just above him, looking down at him with its Dark Gaunt, Drawing him ever deeper into its perpetual darkness.
The Otaku pushing with all his might inadvertently releases the pressure of his bowels, but even the unavoidable smell smelt for the briefest of moments, as the Otaku was not only pulled into the darkness, but immediately became one with it; the blackness of his perceptions, and his allowances had grown into a chasm that forced away any remaining mortality, or doubt, as the Otaku looked into the Depth of Forever, and in himself, drank It ever deeper. The Otaku and The Forever Keeper were no longer two, but had become one entity; the Sojourn of the Purposeless, and the Fan-boy, had become one in the same; the same in one; and the Black Unquenchable Fire that hadn?t a will, was Given the most contrary of the Pariahs; the outsider of the sociable; King Salacious of the Perverted; whose imaginations went further than any, and whose villainy could potentially surpass the Inhumanity of Orochimaru, the Self Grandiosity of Madara Uchiha, the Coldness of Aizen, and the self Servitude of Agent Smith.
The Otaku emerged from the cloak of the Forever Black, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes remain jet black, but only briefly. Returning to his bed, Data Pad in hand, the Otaku once more enjoyed the eye candy of a sweaty BBW finding her path as a Digger found hers, and instead of the hidden trepidation covered therein that grows with purposeful intent, the Otaku?s Growl grew from the pixilation of the Digger, and found the hidden secrets of the pixilated BBW giving the Otaku, the New Keeper of the Shade, the sensations known to only those that have them, and others fortunate to experience them; and deep within the Otaku screamed in an ecstasy never known, whilst somewhere the BBW whose name is Rebecca, laid sleeping next to her mate blissful until the unmistakenable reach found her spot, and she quipped for her lover to wait until the Red Dragon had once more found it?s perch and had left her alone, but continuous was the sensation, until her eyes opened and the realization that her Lover and Mate was in Iraq for six more weeks, and a phantom had found her hidden spot, and plowed away mercilessly; Rebecca Screams.

[Expletive]

Life is sweet, but things are bad, there's no money, nothing is going well, but fuck all my cock still works, five inches or no, it still fucking works. Hope ya'll are having a fuck all, because I sure am not having a fuck fuck.
edit: logistics ya'll, i wrote the above story from memory in less than an hour because I have ADHD and if I don't finish something in one setting, then 99.9% of the time that fucking one is over forever and ever amen. Frazetta Prose I'm calling the style of writing (finishing shit in one sitting).