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  • Locked thread
Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Avshalom posted:

I spread my labia. All six are thin and supple, layered like a dancer's skirts, the colour of cherries in summertime. Within them lies my vagina. It is a fertile paradise that stretches from the delta of my taint to the high alpine peak of my clitoris. Extending my compound eyes to get a better look at you, I begin to gyrate my luscious hips. They swivel with a feline grace, my pointy little toothpick of a penis swinging around and around with the motion. My huge breasts bounce. My anus leers from beneath the translucent shield of its protective membrane. Now my cooch is slick with lust, my intimate womanly hollows crying out for you to fill them; their voices are like distant seagulls, reedy and raucous. From the curve of my breastbone to the very tip of my needle dick, I am coated in a sensuous pelt of coarse, bearlike hair. I whisper your name seductively, loving the feel of it on my tongue. My scrotum cracks its knuckles. The time has come. We must have sex.

(USER WAS PUT ON PROBATION FOR THIS POST)

The town is a peaceful hypersexual paradise, where all wish to embrace the ghost love of Ariel Sharon, but it has now been invaded by some very UNSEXY interlopers! Can the town hunt them down and help them reach a sexual awakening, or will it fall to an orgy of paranoia, with clusters of breasts turning upon their own sisters?

Okay guys, this is going to be an all-vanilla game and hopefully I can figure out how to not gently caress up everything in votefinder. Sign up below! Once I get a fair number of people I'll just pick some appropriate-sounding amount to be scum, and you can all have at it. Note: if you are not an Auspol regular you will probably get turbolynched or end up way behind from being in the wrong time zone, but sign up if you want to anyway I guess.

:siren: To make things interesting, I propose that the losing team should find some volunteer to gift Avshalom an unban gift cert once the game is finished. She'll use it eventually! :siren:

Proposed day/night schedule:
PERTH TIME: 5 AM - 6 PM
BRISBANE TIME: 7 AM - 8 PM
REAL CITIES TIME: 8 AM - 9 PM
CHICAGO BULLS TIME: 3 PM - 4 AM

Players so far:
  1. Anidav
  2. Asphyxious
  3. BCR
  4. bell jar
  5. black_tangled
  6. everythingWasBees
  7. Harold Krell
  8. Matthew Beet
  9. Mithranderp
  10. SKY COQ
  11. Small Keating
  12. Splode
  13. Those On My Left
  14. whats for dinner

Bifauxnen fucked around with this message at 21:39 on Feb 3, 2015

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Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the timeframes for the days, does this sound all right to everybody? I was thinking of having them run a tad longer than 12 hours, cause I want to start early while I'm reading the forums anyway over breakfast.

PERTH TIME: 5 AM - 6 PM
BRISBANE TIME: 7 AM - 8 PM
REAL CITIES TIME: 8 AM - 9 PM

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


everythingWasBees posted:

what's that in, uh, CST

CHICAGO BULLS TIME: 3 PM - 4 AM

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Yeah, no special roles whatsoever, all the bells and whistles will come from the flavor text. Please use your powers of imagination, and remember that the brain is the largest sexual organ.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Avshalom will be co-modding rather than playing, and the flavor text is coming along swimmingly. I think we'll spend tomorrow finishing up the prep work and seeing if anyone else wants in, then we'll start up all officially on Wednesday morning! (or Tuesday afternoon for the Yanks)

I suspect Harold Krell will be abstaining for reasons of sexual depravity.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Nobody panic. The situation is under control.

Game will start tomorrow morning, check OP for your timezone!

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Okay, I'm going to close it here for new players, this'll give us just enough for the great roles we've already written up.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Oh wait, make that room for ONE more if anyone's interested. Got another good town role written up and it would be a shame to see any go to waste.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


This post used to be hounding BCR to give me his email, but everything is fine now!

Bifauxnen fucked around with this message at 03:30 on Feb 4, 2015

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!




In the depths of a lush and fertile tropical valley, a magnificent creature bursts forth from its chrysalis. He tests his new wings, taut skin stretched over lithe arms like a flying fox, before taking at last to his first mating flight. Soaring over the treetops, he soon spots an unusual sight. A few figures, traveling together on a path towards the valley's entrance. A lone brave soul would often venture into the valley to satisfy their unspeakable curiosity, but a group like this was almost unheard of. He glides closer, hoping to better see these new people, and if they would be open to his advances.

But as they come into focus, his heart seizes in panic. All five of his erections instantly droop, and his once flushed and rosy wings shrivel in revulsion. He drops like a stone, crashing into the canopy below. Battered and bruised, the creature staggers back towards the town so he can raise the alarm. These are no ordinary visitors. They were so revolting, so hideously unsexy that it could tear the very fabric of their society apart.

But by the time he finally arrives, he realizes the invaders could already be hidden amongst them. Puberty has so greatly transformed all his peers that almost no one can recognize each other. It would be easy for the enemy to put on a sexy disguise, and infiltrate the unknowing town. As others rush to his aid, he whispers a warning before succumbing to his wounds.

The town must have vengeance for this tragedy! Go forth and drive out the unsexy invaders!

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Note: Play is currently set to end at hammer, not at the end of day.

Bifauxnen fucked around with this message at 03:30 on Feb 4, 2015

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Well, SK said he was good for this week. black_tangled said she'd be away just for tomorrow, but with that already known I think you guys can work around it. So long as anyone who expects to be absent for most of a day says so beforehand, we shouldn't require any nasty modkilling. This valley is a peaceful place! But depending on how advanced in the game it is and how badly you need them to vote, you may wish to take matters into your own hands.

BCR will be either booted or replaced if he can't get an alternate contact to me by a reasonable time today, so I can confirm to him which bloody role he is.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


BCR posted:

My bad, had kid stuff, mafia email sent

Email is (REDACTED)

Got the email! Your role confirmation has now been sent, and all is good. You may all resume being sexy.

Bifauxnen fucked around with this message at 03:31 on Feb 4, 2015

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Matthew Beet posted:

can everoyne please agree that BCR is allowed to edit this post to remove his email. Bif yours too.

Good point, permission granted.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


The town is on edge. Though the breasted poo in their midst is beautifully sculpted and intensely toned, and though they all admire its beefy abdominal muscles, something seems off about its demeanour. It is behaving peculiarly. And not in an attractive way, either. As it blathers and witters senselessly, they turn to each other to confirm - yes, it's absolutely ruining the orgasmic mood; it's suspiciously un-sexy, and cannot be trusted.

There's only one thing to be done. In unison they hammer the "Report" button and file a pornography complaint.

Retribution is swift and brutal. The sexy turd disintegrates into an inscrutable blur of pixels, in the depths of which not even a pert nipple can be seen. A voice intones from the heavens: "PERMABANNED (by the LORD)". One lonesome testicle detaches from the body and rolls slowly across the floor. The townsfolk watch with bated breasts. But to their horror, when the ban message arrives, it reads, simply, "Obscenity."

The breasted poo was one of them all along. They have slain a noble comrade.

(RIP Harold Krell, Town)

:rip: Let us remember Harold as he was in vivacious life, not as he is in pixellated death: :rip:

quote:

You are a handsome poo. Soft, solid, and smooth as the innards of a Lindor ball, you have been moulded by ingenious hands into the shape of a maiden with a multitude of bouncing breasts. Your voice is rich and sultry. You are the colour of fresh pumpkin stew. Somewhere inside you, there lurks a single choice testicle.

Check back in the morning, scum get a nightkill decision to me by then!

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Darkness fell on the valley, and the previously booming night-life was far more subdued than usual. Many fearfully stayed at home, indulging in solitary pleasures rather than venturing out to seek the company of attractive strangers.

However, business must go on. Early in the morning, the cafes began their usual preparations for breakfast.

One hipsticle eagerly rushed out his door, bouncing down the street towards the town, and towards coffee. No invaders or paranoia or other drama could possibly sway him from his course. He simply could not do without starting his day bright and early, perhaps with a delicious serving of smashed avocado.


pictured: some drat sexy food

He never arrived at the cafe. A neighbor passing by saw him lying in the path, and at first glance, she believed he may have passed out after having an extraordinarily fun night. But soon, she realized something was horribly wrong. The mysterious fluids splattered across the scene were nothing healthy. A foul odor of fat hung in the air, and leading away from her neighbor's body was a suspicious trail of greasy breadcrumbs.

Asphyxious appeared to have asphyxiated... from some sort of noxious processed cheese sauce.

(RIP Asphyxious, Town)

:rip:

quote:

You are an urbane right testicle. Suave and gorgeously formed, you're a taut red berry of rock-solid muscle. You vibrate passionately, exuding confidence and lust and giving off a supersonic siren song that is audible only to dogs and vaginas. The hairs that crown your spherical curves twirl naturally into moustachios.
Day 2 has now begun.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Whoops, deadline is now fixed. Same bat-time and bat-channel as yesterday.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


The townspeople are agitated now. Reeling from the loss of Asphyxious and the knowledge that unsexy murderers walk amongst them in disguise, they report a sharp decrease in sexual performance and desire since the news of the invasion first broke. Married groups are at each other's throats, suddenly stung by infidelities that would have been taken in stride before the trouble started. Couples break apart weeping mid-coitus, their vaginas writhing and recoiling, their minds suddenly filled with images of death, destruction, and the British royal family. The perpetual erotic tumult that underpins their culture is starting to wane. It's not only the residents' lives and libidos that are at risk. The valley's very identity is at stake.

With the panicked herd mentality sending orgasmic shockwaves through the village, it's inevitable that they turn upon someone in their midst who has never quite seemed to belong.

"He's barely sexy at all," they mutter amongst themselves. "In fact, he's almost... a bit un-sexy, if you catch my meaning. A bit, well. Not hugely arousing."

"Some people are into that," cautions a moderate voice.

"Some people are into all sorts of things, that doesn't make them sexy. Not in the classical sense. We're quite traditionalist here, that's part of our valuable heritage," says a freshly shaven ballsack. "And he's, ah, he's... not conventionally appealing."

"He's not even a genital," a clitoris hisses.

Although the debate is fierce and there are angry voices on both sides, finally the more sexually conservative residents win out. A roaring lynch mob comes for Bell Jar.

He faces his death with dignity. As they point accusingly and hammer the "report" button that will bring him to the attention of the great and terrible admins in the sky, with his last breath he whispers defiantly-...

"arms wid"

The permaban falls like a heavenly fist, and the townspeople gather triumphantly around the pixelated, censored remnants of Bell Jar to await the lord's judgement. But when the ban reason finally arrives, their collective erection wilts as realisation dawns - and with it, horror.

"Obscenity," it reads. "We don't do this type of thing here."

They've struck down an innocent sex symbol, an upstanding small paper dome whose only crime was asking questions for the common good.

Once again, a good and wildly erotic citizen has fallen victim to the lynch mob. It is with a heavy heart and a shrivelled, inverted nipple that the crowd disperses, leaving Bell Jar's body to stand testament to their hubris.

(RIP bell jar, Town)

:rip:

quote:

You are a small paper dome with "arms wid" written on it. Designed by a master tradesman for reasons unknown, you are lovingly crafted from papier-mâché and semen. You are not the sexiest object in the realm and life isn’t always easy for you; but with your happy-go-lucky nature and your effortless command of the tango, you always make the best of a questionable situation.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


It was another uncharacteristically quiet night in the valley. In the town square, a lone testicle patrolled the perimeter, hoping to catch a glimpse of the unsexy filth before they could strike again. For a few long, maddening hours, there was nothing but dead quiet. Just when he was starting to worry about losing focus, he caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows.

"And where do you think you're going?" He approached the figure, unintimidated. But the stranger also stood his ground, and raised his fists. It was one of them, without a doubt. Why was he walking around wearing that thing, and showing off such a gruesome body? The testicle refused to run away, but he couldn't fight the feeling of pure nausea seeping into him. He puffed himself out proudly, hoping the man would be just as repulsed by him as the other way around.

"You want some o' this?!" he called out to the man, psyching himself up to fight.

"You bet you are - you bet I am."

"What-?" the enemy's voice was just as unnerving as his appearance, and the brave testicle was caught off-guard with a hard tackle. To the very end,he didn't back down, but it was never a fair fight. It's hard to keep the upper hand when you can hardly bear to even look at your opponent.

Those On My Left was found dead the next morning, with the front of his shirt drenched in blood.

(RIP Those On My Left, Town)

:rip:

quote:

You are a courageous left testicle. Dangling in space on your lithe and graceful neck, fiercely independent and solitary by nature, you are a wrinkled dumpling of self-sufficiency. Though not the largest ball, your rugged good looks more than make up for your meagre volume. You fear nothing.

Day 3 has begun!

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


So their previous lynches have had disheartening results. But the third time is always the charm; this time, the townspeople are certain they've uncovered a scum, spreading seeds of dissent and erectile dysfunction in their tranquil valley. Quivering with fleshy excitement, hooting and farting erotically, they pile onto their community pride float and dance their way to Anidav's doorstep. He meets them at the door in a state of flagrant nakedness, a pulsing melodic nipple in the prime of his sexual existence.

"It's just not right," a rounded shiny plum of a buttock explains to him. "You used to be such a callow lad. There was nothing raunchy about you. Now, suddenly... well, you've become fiercely sexy. It doesn't happen like that. It's impossible. Nipples don't just transform overnight from anaemic, uninspiring withered little peppercorns into awe-inspiring discs of sensuous skin."

"I hit puberty," says Anidav.

"A likely story!" the mob roars as one, their myriad lips, folds and wrinkles jiggling with outrage. The mere sight of Anidav has filled them with a vengeful fury that's not entirely sexual. Ovaries billow and squirm. Pubic hairs lash like wrathful serpents. Overcome by the stress and tension of it all, two needle-thin penises give in to desire and begin to lovingly sound each other's urethrae. "Give it up, scum! It's time for you to come to justice!"

A report is filed. Within moments, left not even enough time for a final beautiful soliloquy, the baffled Anidav finds himself censored.

"PERMABANNED," saieth the LORD.

The townspeople break into cheers. Finally, they think; finally, they've got one over the intruders in their midst and they can begin their long, sultry slow-dance back toward the sexual festivities of days past.

But their joy quickly fades as the ban message arises from the depths.

"Uncensored nipple," it reads.

In the stunned silence, the littlest penis bursts into creamy tears.

The nightmare is not yet over.

(RIP Anidav, Town)

:rip:

quote:

You are a delicately puckered nipple. Perched serenely atop a pulsing breast, you survey the world with quiet dignity. You are the colour of baked terracotta. Firm and always erect, you are gloriously shaped. Your skin has the texture of fine-grain sandpaper. Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning, you emit smooth jazz.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


In a dark and seedy bar, a frustrated penis sat in front of the dartboard, getting increasingly drunk.

"Just as good as any other strategy..." she muttered to herself. Scribbling on a bar napkin, she started assigning names to different sections of the board. Was there anyone else suspicious she forgot?

"What an irrational way to make a decision." someone said with contempt.

black_tangled turned around in surprise, and finally noticed another patron sitting at the table behind her. He took a long drag off his cigarette, an unusual brand marked with a dollar symbol in gold foil, and then flicked it at her. It landed right on the napkin, the embers burning through the diagram of names. Her pubes bristled angrily.

"You got a problem? Maybe we should take this outside!"

The next morning, the distraught bartender gave his account to the police. It didn't sound like they were actually arguing as they left the bar, more like one of them was just endlessly lecturing the other. The manner of death was unusual, too. The wounds suggested bludgeoning with a blunt heavy object, perhaps a very large brick, but the victim was also covered in a large number of paper cuts.

"Hey, look over here!" one of the investigators called out, pointing to a scrawl of blood on the pavement. "It looks like she tried to leave a message!" Squinting at the letters, it looked like...

A = A

The officer sighed in disappointment.

"Well how's that supposed to help? It's a bloody tautology!"

(RIP black_tangled, Town)

:rip:

quote:

You are an exceptionally shapely penis. Long, slender and curved like an organically farmed banana, you are porcelain-pale and entangled in ferocious pubes. Stirred by the morning breeze, you swing gently around and around at the fulcrum like the blades of a windmill. Your urethra winks seductively. You produce no urine; only pressurised steam and lemon-flavoured cum.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Opening the thread early cause I'm off to Parkrun this morning. Same deadline as always though, 8 PM Brisbane time.

Day 4 has begun!

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


The town was divided after another night with a grisly murder. The traitors could be anywhere! Multiple people had fingers pointed their way, but one in particular just didn't seem to be giving any satisfactory responses for his defense. Every time he spoke, his approval rating only dropped further. The town started to look at him with more suspicion. Sure, he sported an impressively-sized rump for a head, but what if it was a fake, and he was really one of the outsiders? They circled around him, demanding more answers.

BCR looked out at the accusing crowd, baffled and disoriented. In his confusion, he even cast a vote for himself. This only frustrated the mob further. Had he lost all grip on reality?

"Explain yourself!" someone cried. But the suspicious man gave no answer.

"You're not saying anything, BCR." The silence became awkward as the butt-faced man's cheeks jiggled from side to side.

"...I've given you the response you deserve."

The town was livid, and pounced on him as one, tearing and clawing at him to remove his disguise. He'd been wearing a novelty rubber mask all along! Behind the facade of round and friendly buttcheeks was a smarmy lizard-like face, and beneath his suit and blue tie was a Speedo that somehow, on that body, managed to look distasteful even to the valley's raunchiest residents.

The crowd groaned in disgust, and involuntarily turned away. This was his chance! BCR broke free of his holds, and made a blind run for it. He'd put some good distance between them before the mob could snap out of it and follow him. He looked behind with a smug grin, and it only made them falter and hesitate more. He was approaching one edge of the valley, and saw a path he could take to escape back into the mountains. He'd done it! The town had given up and turned back. Or so he thought.

The town had no more need to chase him. Everyone from the valley knew to never approach that path. For up in that mountain was a land of no return: the territory of the two-faced, back-stabbing bishrudds.



(RIP BCR, Mafia)

:rip:

quote:

You are Tony Abbott in budgie smugglers. Your likeness has been put onto novelty condoms to keep people from ever reproducing. You look like a lizard man and cannot be around a singular woman in a mostly-male environment without saying the exact same line all the drat time about how she "must be the most popular girl in the place, eh? Eh?" Nobody wants to see that poo poo or listen to you speak, ever. Just please, crawl into a hole and die AND OH GOD STOP WINKING, THAT'S ONLY MAKING IT WORSE

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


There is much merriment in the town following the death of BCR. Although some killjoys still plead for caution, most of the citizens are absolutely sure that now they've caught one criminal, the others will flee the valley and move on to other, more prudish climes. A celebration is declared. The queefs of triumph are sounded and much drinking and dancing ensues. Soon every man, woman and house in the village is pregnant.

That evening, Splode fills his bucket with heaving titties and goes out to feed the dickhens. He goes alone, as he always does; he's had nobody to help him since his assistant ran away to join the circus and his wife committed suicide by posting herself in her full turgid glory on the Neopets trading forum.

Splode knows that his job is dangerous. The titties, which are organically grown and harvested in the valley under the blushing, sultry sun, have given the hens a raging appetite for all things bosomy. Whenever he perches on top of the fence, shaking titties into the pasture below, the hens gather and squint at him with eyes like soulless chips of glass. They are sinister-looking creatures, the hens. Black and ferociously clawed, their blood-red beaks and enormous scrotums gleaming as if freshly waxed, they are always hungry; their constant low burbling is full of predatory menace. One misstep and Splode would fall in amongst them. A delicious breast like him wouldn't last two seconds. He has no choice, though; their meat is so prized in the town that he's made a small fortune off them, and a steady diet of titties is required to give their flesh the succulent tang that his customers demand.

As their feed wobbles and screams in ecstacy, the dickhens scratch and cluck and squirt exquisite green ribbons of poo poo. Splode watches them with mixed fondness and revulsion. Two of them get into a squabble over a particularly juicy nipple, thrusting and parrying with their hairy chodes; Splode shouts at them and they gnash their anal plates at him menacingly. The disturbance upsets the others. Soon the whole flock is bellowing with the voices of passionate men. Alarmed, fearing that they'll harm each other, Splode turns to grab the hose - and freezes as he sees the outline of a warped and hideous figure looming in the doorway of the barn.

"My hot buttocks," he exclaims, as those very same buttocks clench tight in fear.

He tries to stand, hoping to dance the intruder into submission, but it's too late. They rush him. One push is all it takes to knock him from his precarious perch.

He seems to hang mid-fall for the longest time, his trio of erect nipples pointing desperately heavenward; then he lands, and in seconds the dickhens are upon him.

Noticing the next morning that Splode's hens have been released from their coop and are seducing fauna and flora across the countryside, a worried neighbour alerts the police. Splode is the most responsible farmer in the district. If he knew his hens had escaped, he would put the whole neighbourhood into lockdown until they were reclaimed to avoid injury or ill-advised marriage. The authorities rush to his farm, concerned for the wellbeing of this upstanding, solid, tumescent member of the community.

A horrifying scene greets them when they arrive. There is little left of Splode. As they investigate the signs of a scuffle, the smashed barn lock and the mysterious trail of greasy crumbs, it becomes clear that this wasn't just a tragic farming accident. This was another murder.

They may have caught one criminal, but there are others still at large. Their celebration was premature: the town still isn't safe.

The hens are lured with sensuous singing and re-captured. Over the next few hours, they release Splode by small increments in the form of eggs. Uncertain of how to handle this situation, the townspeople gather up the eggs, wrap them in the scarlet latex bra that was Splode's favourite garment, and bury them by the river.

Even this sad ceremony is poisoned with suspicion. Every nipple is shrivelled, every penis distrustfully retracted. People mutter and gossip and cast nasty glances at their neighbours. Murderers walk among them. Can anyone truly be trusted?

(RIP Splode, Town)

:rip:

quote:

You are a ripe and ready breast. Pink and turgid, crowned with a single razor-sharp rosette of a nipple, you hang suspended in midair and bounce whenever the fancy takes you. A fine black coat of hair dusts your sensual curves. Your cleavage is precipitous, a sweet chasm in the depths of which there flows a mighty river.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Scratch that, reverse it. Forgot one dead player. SIX alive, but still 4 to lynch.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


The mob has come for Beet! They kick his door down and flood his most intimate inner spaces, brandishing pitchforks and multi-pronged dildos. But this lean and athletic vagina isn't going without a fight. He backs into a corner, pubes bristling, and pleads his innocence with one last speech.

"Friends!" he beseeches the crowd. "Do not commit this terrible deed. I'm but a simple vagina, at once humble and overwhelmingly sexy. My gleaming folds invite you to sample my banquet of fluids and flavours. My breasts are like rosy pillows. When I dance, I am like a midnight tiger; the only deer that I stalk is your sexual satisfaction."

The lynch mob pauses, moved by his powerful words.

"I am one of you, comrades. I'm majestically cleft down the centre, my clitoris slender and curved, its taut orange membrane erotically quivering. My meaty labia clasp you in their loving folds."

Now the townspeople are nodding, swayed by this undeniable display of sex appeal.

Encouraged, Beet continues. "I am intensely hot, not just metaphorically but literally, as I have just emerged from a deep frier. My horny grease dribbles and flows, my golden crusts-..."

An involuntary shudder runs through every one of those assembled. Suddenly the atmosphere is a lot more hostile; accusing nipples wink at him from every direction. Grease? Crusts? It's illegal in the valley to even think of the word "crust" in a sexual context. His slip of the tongue has doomed him. They begin to advance.

Panicking, he twerks backward. There is something strange about his labia now. The luscious lips have taken on an unpleasantly craggy appearance; the skin is turning grainy, and the air is suddenly thick with the smell of processed meat.

"You can't report me!" Beet shouts. "You wouldn't dare!" Even as he speaks, his voice is slowing and slurring. It is becoming corrupted, full of nauseous drips and burps; the eldritch pustulent bubbling of unspeakable sauces. "I am a sexual paragon, I am a gorgeous vagina, I am your queelglh glob glob, blub blob-..."

Before their very eyes, the pulsating cooch starts to take on another form! Townspeople shriek and heave and dry-hump each other in an ecstacy of terror. Breasts scream and cover the nipples of the smaller breasts. Through a haze of fetid cooking oil that hasn't been changed since the late nineties, they see the outline of something malformed and gritty, its batter roiling, its obscene central phallus arcing hungrily, pink and glistening, as its merciless schnitzel jaws reach out to engulf them... and then, moments before disaster strikes, some brave soul files a report on this apparition from the depths. It is permabanned instantly.

A puddle of oil remains, slowly soaking into the earth like semen being absorbed into my hungry nude flesh as I recline gracefully in the moonlight. Wherever the oil spreads, the grass blackens and dies.

"It's not really porn, but it looks loving gross so I don't want it here," declares the ban message. "I'd still eat it though."

(RIP Matthew Beet, Mafia)

:rip:

quote:

You are a KFC Double Down Dog. Maybe you should get some points for trying to look suitably hermaphroditic, but honestly, look at this, it's just disgusting:



Nobody who eats one of these is going to be feeling sexy for a looong long time.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Note: there won't be a double day today, check back for D6 at the usual morning time!

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


The tide had turned, and the town was finally alive again. They'd chased out two of those murderous invaders, one after the other. Erect and swollen with confidence, they celebrated all night long, in every position they could think of. Even down to the littlest chode.

But as that little chode swaggered home for some much-needed rest, he heard something unusual. It sounded like angry muttering. Who could be in such a foul mood tonight?

Comfortably buzzed on champagne and several doses of pheremones, he lacked all caution as he peered down the alleyway that the noise was coming from. Outlined in the dim street lights, he saw an imposing figure of stark black and white, smoking a cigarette in a long holder. Even facing away from him, just her silhouette looked so confronting that she really wasn't doing anything for him. He turned to go back on his way, but stumbled into a discarded bottle that clattered noisily.

She turned, her head snapping to face him like a hungry dickhen spotting a fat grub. Her hard, square face looked down at him with an ice-cold stare that bored into his very soul, and then berated and abused him for daring to consider such a childish notion of even having a soul. He was utterly frozen with terror as she walked closer.

His apparent heart attack almost could have been overlooked as an unfortunate coincidence, a tragic toll from last night's celebrations. But the town was certain there was still foul play afoot. Stamped right into his skin was the sign of the dollar.

(RIP everythingWasBees, Town)

:rip:

quote:

You are a fat little chode. A nodule of winsome flesh, cradled in a lush nest of testicles, you are sociable and highly cultured. Your tender candy-pink skin writhes with veins. Your bell-end is a weird, slightly convex disc like a slice of cooked pepperoni. What you lack in length, you make up for in enthusiasm and muscularity.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


After another day of heated debate and accusations, the town started to turn its attention towards the more quiet members.

"what's for dinner hasn't said much of anything, can he really be trusted?"

"Yeah, why don't you speak up more for once?"

whats for dinner edged away from the crowd, eyeing them shrewdly. He had been making sure to choose his words with the utmost care. A rational being must know themselves, and he knew that once he got started, he would be unable to leave his thoughts unfinished, unable to stop his monologue of brilliant knowledge to enlighten the masses. And then the jig would be up, for these second-handers would surely join their miserable forces to tear down anyone proven better than them.

"Too much of a lurker, I say."

"Yeah, who IS 'whats for dinner'?"

whats for dinner paused, his face twitching behind his mask with the effort of restraint. The crowd circled around him, pressing in closer. He nearly stumbled as he backed into something left lying on the ground. It was a soapbox. Something flipped in his brain, and he climbed atop it, no longer willing to keep the fire of his independent mind hidden behind a mask of crude and offensive rubber. Tearing off his disguise to reveal his true form, he spoke into the shocked silence that followed.

"You ask, 'Who is whats for dinner?' This is whats for dinner speaking. I am the man who loves his life. I am the man who does not sacrifice his love or his values..."

The town stood stupefied as the words droned on and on, in one nipple and out the other. They couldn't tell what he was on about, but there was no doubt that this was one of the unsexy invaders. They shook themselves back to their senses, and reached for their report buttons. The speaker paid no heed to the danger, and continued to lecture them on the contradictory nature of their premises.

At last, the banhammer mercifully fell, crushing whats for dinner and the soapbox beneath it. The ban reason read: "Galtse".

(RIP whats for dinner, Mafia)

:rip:

quote:

quote:

Some people think that sex is a physical capacity which functions independently of
one's mind, choice, or code of values. They think that your body creates a
desire and makes a choice for you -- just about in some such way as if iron
ore transformed itself into railroad rails of its own volition. Love is blind,
they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers.
But, in fact, a man's sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental
convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you
his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell
you his valuation of himself. No matter what corruption he's taught about the
virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act
which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment -- just try to think
of performing it as an act of selfless charity! -- an act which is not possible
in self-abasement, only in self-exaltation, only in the confidence of being desired
and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit,
as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as his standard of value. He will
always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself,
the woman whose surrender permits him to experience -- or to fake --
a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value
will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires,
the strongest, the hardest to conquer, because only the possession of a heroine
will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut.
He does not seek to gain his value, but to express it. There is no conflict
between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body...

Observe the ugly mess which most men make of their sex lives -- and observe the
mess of contradictions which they hold as their moral philosophy. One proceeds
from the other. Love is our response to our highest values, and can be nothing
else. Let a man corrupt his values and his view of existence -- let him profess
that love is not self-enjoyment but self-denial, that virtue consists, not of
pride but of pity or pain or weakness or sacrifice, that the noblest love is
born, not of admiration but of charity, not in response to values but in response
to flaws, -- and he will have cut himself in two. His body will not obey him,
it will not respond, it will make him impotent toward the woman he professes
to love and draw him to the lowest type of whore he can find. His body will
always follow the logic of his deepest convictions; if he believes that flaws
are values, he has damned existence as evil and only the evil will attract
him. He has damned himself and he will feel that depravity is all he is
worthy of enjoying... Then he will scream that his body has vicious desires
of its own which his mind cannot conquer, that sex is sin, that true love is
a pure emotion of the spirit. And then he will wonder why love brings him
nothing but boredom and sex nothing but shame....

Only the man who extols the purity of a love devoid of desire is capable
of the depravity of a desire devoid of love.
____________/


You are Ayn Rand.

Stay tuned for the big finale!

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Grand finale will not be until at least after 5 today when Avs' TAFE stuff is over, so please be gentle with your F5 keys.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


the miracle is here. the nightmare is over. just when all seemed lost, the remarkable teamwork by the villagers bore blushing, juicy fruit, similar in shape and appearance to my coquettish buttocks as i bend low and ready my hot bum to accept your lusty manhood. the horrific infiltrators have been defeated, their effigies burnt. the curse of unsexiness has been purged from this picturesque carnal cleft in the forested thighs of the mountains.

in an inspiring display of solidarity, flexibility and sensuality, the town has cum together to prove, once and for all, the power of love.

a service is arranged to honour the fallen. amidst a chorus of delicately tooting sacrosanct anuses, a parade of foreskins clad in white silk set commemorative dildos along the riverbank. veiny rods are laid for harold krell, who died doing what he loved (being a turd); asphyxious, a cultured ball whose passion for raw vegan cacao treats was matched only by his insatiable debauched lust for peace and harmony; bell jar, who was fatally persecuted by those he tried to serve, much like jesus; toml, whose testicular fortitude led him to lay down his life for the town; anidav, vindicated by death, who will crest the breast of eternity; black_tangled, a fine young penis whose potential was tragically squandered; splode, whose voluptuous beauty will live on forever in the minds of all who knew him; and everything was bees, the fattest and fairest of the chodes.
a dance begins, a solemn bump and grind of meaty hollows and protuberances: an orgy of mourning that quickly escalates into a regular orgy of sex. barbecued dickhens and steamed hermitcocks are ladled out in their thousands. a monument, among other things, is erected to celebrate the victory over the intruders from beyond the latex veil. it is immediately defiled in many fascinating ways and later gives birth to several smaller monuments.

as the townspeople frolic through the merry dell, something glorious is discovered in the shadows of a pensively masturbating oak tree: a concentric cluster of breasts clasped within each other like matryoshka dolls. this omen of fortune and fertility is borne back to the village and triumphantly enshrined. every stone, flower and wine bottle in the town springs to life and joins the joyful rabbit-like rutting in the main square. far overhead, the clouds twist and writhe in blissful coitus and a warm, salty rain begins to fall.

the party goes on until the early hours of the morning. by the time the rapturous crowd have finally blown their load, a new day has dawned. a slutty sun rises in the east, pleasuring the cooch-pink sky and titillating all it touches with its lecherous light.

i stand naked on the hilltop, my mighty breasts bared to the giggly breeze. wild with pride, my penis arches and clicks its fearsome teeth. my body is a paradise. my vagina is sweet as an alpine spring, its waters limpid and teeming with silvery fish. spreading my labia like a butterfly's wings, i launch into the air and spiral majestically above the happy town, ejaculating confetti and queefing like a trombone.

it is time. let us have sex.

:parrot: :siren: ~~~TOWN VICTORY!~~~ :siren: :parrot:

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Oh yes, here are the remaining roles for the survivors!

Mithranderp

quote:

You are a business-minded centre testicle. Fulsome and fertile, you hang from your stem like a summertime peach ready to be picked. Networks of turgid veins crisscross your perpetually rippling surface. Merry sperm canoodle in your depths. Your hobbies include dancing and basic account reconciliation. You have many friends, most of whom are also testicles.

SKY COQ

quote:

You are a ravenous cooch. Legends abound of your vast capacity and your insatiable appetite for sexual flesh. You are lined all around with a wreath of bulbous labia; at the stroke of midnight, they rub together to produce a steady chirping like heavenly crickets. You are bearded with a majestic cascade of pubic hairs and you smell faintly of the sordid tropics.

Small Keating

quote:

You are a quivering rosebud of an anus. Although you have many uses, you’re primarily ornamental. And what an ornament! Peach-pink, sweetly scented and fine as china, you are an unspeakably alluring hole. At the slightest touch you fart like thunder and begin to dilate and contract rapidly, affording breathtaking glimpses of the treasures within.

I tried to gender-swap as many roles as possible.

Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Asphyxious posted:

I'm glad this was the outcome, if unsexiness won an Avshalom themed game it'd be a crime. This was really well done guys, thank you.

I'm also glad it got to have the big sexy send-off! Avs continually amazed me with the amount of really good text she was able to whip up on short notice.

Being on the mod side of things was a lot fun, so watch out for something else like JoJo or Dangan Ronpa in the future now that I know how this votefinder junk works. :dance:

Scumdoc is here, though it gets a little sparse since a lot was done through email for BCR:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1F8mE_9_AYp_NeeHgYsy8LcxHeeMAUANxiOaw3AZD45I/edit?usp=sharing

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Bifauxnen
Aug 12, 2010

Curses! Foiled again!


Mithranderp posted:

Also, where is dead doc?

Dead doc is here: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1I0BQK5ZeOpZz87ZwG2GjCW86ljDC93VfL-m1G2hYiYk/edit#gid=0

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