Cloner of the Elks posted:

SomethingGood.com

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMZPObjP_bU

Blue Raider posted:

EorayMel posted:

The coupons admin swinging the scythe in C-SPAM about a nazi mod being outed but it's Lowtax and it's every forum

Il Federale posted:

lmao at that announcement

"look lowtax doesnt actually do anything, walking away is not an option, how will i run my internet fiefdom if i do that"

Blue Raider posted:

voice chat

Saint Isaias Boner posted:

yeah i hear that all i've been doing is homeschooling my kid when im not at work, time has been nearly meaningless to me for months now

Zzulu posted:

Can't we just get rid of the wifebeater guy and keep the forums

bvj191jgl7bBsqF5m posted:

I can't click through 150 pages to see anything of interest, so please give me some good pages to read. So far I've read pages 1, 2, 144, and 145

Vim Fuego posted:

this seems like the most reasonable solution?

LostRook posted:

I'm glad an admin that ran interference for Lowtax's abuses is willing to now believe all women. Ownership of the forum going from a wife-beater to a wife-beater bootlicker is a change for the positive.

Ok Comboomer posted:

I read up to page 45 last night and then skipped ahead to the last 3.

Did I miss anything important?

Xegaus posted:

Somethingbetter.com

Edit: Also gently caress you Loxtax

Son of Man posted:

I feel like everyone here knows each other in real life except me, and I am just as lost here as I have been for the last 20 years of off site drama

Did lowtax get arrested? Is this in the paper or something? What happened, he killed a girl?

Hey also I learned that they call them wife beater shirts because of some famous case of a dude who best his wife to death and he wore a wife beater shirt

Tarkus posted:

I say we start an IRC channel! Are those still a thing?

barbecue at the folks posted:

Forums is the best form of internet posting, every other platform just gets it wrong because they need to whore for click revenue.

George H.W. oval office posted:

i cant

i need a moment here

i don't even, i can't begin to

like

its

someone help me i dont know where to start

i am at a loss for words

hot liquid poo poo splashing up and speckling my white bottom

a man dips his fingers in fetid rear end sweat and smears a line of it on my forehead.

"RAZOR" he murmurs

a cleansing dive into sparkling yellow piss waters, light at the top yet brown near the bottom. i plunge deep and feel the saltiness enter my pores.

a field of partially congealed cum on grass. before it continues to gel, i leap and splay myself out on the ground, nude. i wave my arms and legs, making the snape of an angel.

i am led down a darkened hallway and through a metal door that screams as it opens and closes. i sit down in an old wooden chair with a light above me and wait. soon he appears. helpers flank him, and then grip my face and hold my mouth open. the man leans forward, plugs one nostril, and blows the contents of his nasal cavity into my eager mouth.

because my face is strapped so tightly to the rear end of this man, the poo poo he pushes out is forced to go over, around, and under my eye sockets after they rapidly become full of feces. i grind my face a little, to enjoy the smooshing sensation.

my penis stings greatly from the regurgitated stomach acids, but my joy overpowers the negative sensation. the scent of heineken and sourness fills the air.

he is strapped down over a table, blindfolded and gagged. a courtesan hands me a cheese grater and motions me towards his waiting rear end. mounds upon mounds of swollen, pus filled acne await me on twin rounded fields of flesh. i drop to my knees and hold my mouth open so as to enjoy any incidental splashing, and then i begin working on him with the grater.

my eyes are irritated as endless flakes of dead skin float down into them, but the visine helps mitigate the worst of it. my erection grows ever harder as i watch the crusty foot directly above my face get worked over with the file. soon all of the callous will be broken up and spread over me.

the side rooms are filled with aged and diseased men of all walks of life. the only unifying factor among them is that they have all contracted the most recent strain of cold virus, and each cough from them produces a hefty amount of phlegm. upon entering, they crowd around me and hold me down onto the ground. my clothes are rapidly stripped away, and the process begins. the air is filled with a cacophony of horks and coughs, and i close my eyes. all across my body i can feel points of warmth as phlegm and bile are projected onto me.

a melange of feces and vomit make the floor slick and difficult to traverse but, then again, that's the point. around the room are men sitting on benches, and beside each of them is a small bucket full of nerf footballs. i enter the room and they begin hurling them at me. you are instructed to dodge to the best of your abilities, but are expected to fall into the frothy mixture on the floor in short order. upon falling, i purposefully roll around to slather as much of it onto my skin as possible.

the men on the top floor are chained to prevent their escape, and some are in fact strapped down so as to prevent any movement. all have leprosy and are in various stages of decay, and i am invited to insert my tongue into the gaping wound of a man not far from his final rest. it is hot and fetid, yet drier on the inside than i would have expected. i work some salvia into the gaping hole to enhance the experience.

"you may experience discomfort", the courtesan informs me. the pumping mechanism is now tightly strapped to my body, and the catheter has been violently shoved all the way in. some say it is a life changing experience to have the urine of another man forcibly pumped into your own bladder, and i eagerly look forward to seeing if this is true

i roll the dry balls of poo poo around in my mouth. these have been left to sit for a day, and even right after being produced they were quite dry. there is still some softness to them, some moisture within. i bite down, and the sensation of crumbling poo poo fills my mouth. i spit out the hard flecks of undigested matter and continue to chew.

in the mirror, i see that the veins in my neck are engorged as i try to push out any remaining feces. it is a thrill to know that this feces is not mine, and yet i am still passing it through my system. my throat is still quite irritated from the intubation process, and it is still bizarre feeling the hot lumps pass through said tube into my mouth, down my throat, and into my gut to be re-processed by my own intestines.

in the morning, i do not feel well. the exertions of the previous night and the inability of my body to handle so much foreign material has taken its toll. i try to liven myself up in the piss showers, and my spirits are lifted, but the nausea remains. an attendant brings me a smoothy for breakfast, and i hungrily sip from the straw. a strange flavor, but this trip is about new experiences. i ask the attendant what's in it, and he describes a fetid mixture of pus and cum. i smile as he leaves. "they think of everything", i muse.

today is the main event. my prostate will be forcibly manipulated until every last drop of semen is pumped out of my body and into an incision that the on-site physician has made in my right bicep. there is some swelling around the injection site, but i have been prescribed advil.

i have some time to spare, so i stroll over to the penetration room. from behind a two way mirror, i watch an army of men pump in and out of each other in a room that has long since been sealed shut. the only thing pumped in is oxygen. the men have been told that they must continue to gently caress and thrust or they will be deprived of that last comfort. no fighting is allowed, and the last man left alive will be free to go. a lie, of course. currently fifteen men are left, with perhaps a dozen corpses around them. they do not know or care if the people they continue to thrust in and out of are alive. some of the corpses have been mutilated quite badly, and have perhaps a litre of semen in their decaying stomachs.

blood is perhaps the most common lubricant used, and in fact has become some sort of currency. some men are lured into oral sex, only to be tricked by the performer as they bite down. blood will often burst from their members so forcefully, that the peformer is taken aback and blood gushes from their mouth, only to be wasted. perhaps one third of the blood is successfully saved for use.

one of the other penetration rooms has reached its conclusion, and i rush over to be the first in line. the corpses are removed one by one and laid down onto tables. a courtesan motions me over to the first one removed, and i sit on a small stool facing the bottom of said corpse. soon my head is pushed forward and strapped in place, my mouth encompassing the rear end in a top hat the corpse quite neatly. another courtesan brings a small footstool over to help him stand above the corpse.

"are you ready?" he asks.

i nod as best i can. he brings his foot down onto the stomach of the corpse, applies pressure, and the decayed insides begin to splay out of the rear end in a top hat and into me.

bits of bone from broken ribs migrated into this mixture of rotting matter, so i choke slightly as they cut the inside of my throat. this is considered a faux pas, and my exposed buttocks are viciously slashed with a razor wielded by the overseer. i cannot defend myself, as my head is still strapped to the rear end in a top hat of the corpse i was previously enjoying

blood trickles from the deep gashes on my buttocks, and several attendants and other guests rush over to suck as much of the precious liquid from me as they can. eventually a courtesan frees me from the corpse, and i stand. i stride out of the room quickly, as embarrassment has left me beet red. and it is almost time for my prostate-to-bicep procedure anyway. as i march to the appropriate location, my penis grows engorged with anticipation. i am propositioned for oral sex several times on my journey, but i know better - i don't need a burst cock this late in the game.

i lay down upon the cold steel table, and am strapped into position by an attendant. another attendant rigs up the prostate pump, and the seals around my bicep injection site are checked and rechecked. a switch is flipped, and the process begins. it is quite pleasurable amidst the pain, as my prostate is pounded by a mechanical device of which the workings i am not privy to. soon the pump begins to function, and i watch out of the corner of my eye as a goopy, milky white substance gushes towards my bicep. the feeling of the hot liquid cum pumping into my arm is incredible. i can feel the warmth spreading all over my muscle.

but something goes wrong - the pressure is too high, and the injection needle snaps off inside of my arm, the cum being pumped out spraying wildly in every direction. screams and shouts are heard. this is a disaster!

the pumping machine and the prostate mechanism have gone out of control, i writhe with white hot pain as my prostate is pounded violently beyond tolerable limits, and it somehow grows even worse as the organ is literally ripped apart inside of me, causing massive internal bleeding. the milky white goodness that was previously being pumped out of me grows red, deeply red, as it is replaced almost entirely by blood - that most precious of resources here at CES. instead of helping me in some way, shutting down the mechanism that is ripping my innards apart, the attendants rush over and fight one another for access to the tube that is spraying my blood all over.

cum oozes out of the injection site on by bicep. i lay in a pool of blood, and i suddenly realize poo poo as well. my bowels have released from all the internal turmoil in my body. my bladder is most likely draining, but i cannot tell now. everything is becoming a haze. my stomach is upset. i belch. the taste of pus.

perhaps i am going to die, but more importantly - my trip is ruined.

i wake up. it is dark. i am not dead, but perhaps i should be. i am back in my hotel room. my arm is bandaged, and i feel many more bandages down below. i do not know the full extent of the damage, but i am in great pain all over and it is hard to focus on anything. i turn my head slightly towards the bedside table. several bottles of antibiotics obscure the clock, but i know it is sometime during the night.

after several minutes of rest, i manage to reach over towards the pill bottles. i notice a note. i grasp it, and shakily bring it to my face. there is barely enough ambient light to see, but i focus as best i can as i fumble it open. a contact name, an email address, and a phone number. some scribbled text.

"Thank you for attending the RAZOR CES afterparty."

i close my eyes.

George H.W. oval office posted:

i cant

i need a moment here

i don't even, i can't begin to

like

its

someone help me i dont know where to start

i am at a loss for words

hot liquid poo poo splashing up and speckling my white bottom

a man dips his fingers in fetid rear end sweat and smears a line of it on my forehead.

"RAZOR" he murmurs

a cleansing dive into sparkling yellow piss waters, light at the top yet brown near the bottom. i plunge deep and feel the saltiness enter my pores.

a field of partially congealed cum on grass. before it continues to gel, i leap and splay myself out on the ground, nude. i wave my arms and legs, making the snape of an angel.

i am led down a darkened hallway and through a metal door that screams as it opens and closes. i sit down in an old wooden chair with a light above me and wait. soon he appears. helpers flank him, and then grip my face and hold my mouth open. the man leans forward, plugs one nostril, and blows the contents of his nasal cavity into my eager mouth.

because my face is strapped so tightly to the rear end of this man, the poo poo he pushes out is forced to go over, around, and under my eye sockets after they rapidly become full of feces. i grind my face a little, to enjoy the smooshing sensation.

my penis stings greatly from the regurgitated stomach acids, but my joy overpowers the negative sensation. the scent of heineken and sourness fills the air.

he is strapped down over a table, blindfolded and gagged. a courtesan hands me a cheese grater and motions me towards his waiting rear end. mounds upon mounds of swollen, pus filled acne await me on twin rounded fields of flesh. i drop to my knees and hold my mouth open so as to enjoy any incidental splashing, and then i begin working on him with the grater.

my eyes are irritated as endless flakes of dead skin float down into them, but the visine helps mitigate the worst of it. my erection grows ever harder as i watch the crusty foot directly above my face get worked over with the file. soon all of the callous will be broken up and spread over me.

the side rooms are filled with aged and diseased men of all walks of life. the only unifying factor among them is that they have all contracted the most recent strain of cold virus, and each cough from them produces a hefty amount of phlegm. upon entering, they crowd around me and hold me down onto the ground. my clothes are rapidly stripped away, and the process begins. the air is filled with a cacophony of horks and coughs, and i close my eyes. all across my body i can feel points of warmth as phlegm and bile are projected onto me.

a melange of feces and vomit make the floor slick and difficult to traverse but, then again, that's the point. around the room are men sitting on benches, and beside each of them is a small bucket full of nerf footballs. i enter the room and they begin hurling them at me. you are instructed to dodge to the best of your abilities, but are expected to fall into the frothy mixture on the floor in short order. upon falling, i purposefully roll around to slather as much of it onto my skin as possible.

the men on the top floor are chained to prevent their escape, and some are in fact strapped down so as to prevent any movement. all have leprosy and are in various stages of decay, and i am invited to insert my tongue into the gaping wound of a man not far from his final rest. it is hot and fetid, yet drier on the inside than i would have expected. i work some salvia into the gaping hole to enhance the experience.

"you may experience discomfort", the courtesan informs me. the pumping mechanism is now tightly strapped to my body, and the catheter has been violently shoved all the way in. some say it is a life changing experience to have the urine of another man forcibly pumped into your own bladder, and i eagerly look forward to seeing if this is true

i roll the dry balls of poo poo around in my mouth. these have been left to sit for a day, and even right after being produced they were quite dry. there is still some softness to them, some moisture within. i bite down, and the sensation of crumbling poo poo fills my mouth. i spit out the hard flecks of undigested matter and continue to chew.

in the mirror, i see that the veins in my neck are engorged as i try to push out any remaining feces. it is a thrill to know that this feces is not mine, and yet i am still passing it through my system. my throat is still quite irritated from the intubation process, and it is still bizarre feeling the hot lumps pass through said tube into my mouth, down my throat, and into my gut to be re-processed by my own intestines.

in the morning, i do not feel well. the exertions of the previous night and the inability of my body to handle so much foreign material has taken its toll. i try to liven myself up in the piss showers, and my spirits are lifted, but the nausea remains. an attendant brings me a smoothy for breakfast, and i hungrily sip from the straw. a strange flavor, but this trip is about new experiences. i ask the attendant what's in it, and he describes a fetid mixture of pus and cum. i smile as he leaves. "they think of everything", i muse.

today is the main event. my prostate will be forcibly manipulated until every last drop of semen is pumped out of my body and into an incision that the on-site physician has made in my right bicep. there is some swelling around the injection site, but i have been prescribed advil.

i have some time to spare, so i stroll over to the penetration room. from behind a two way mirror, i watch an army of men pump in and out of each other in a room that has long since been sealed shut. the only thing pumped in is oxygen. the men have been told that they must continue to gently caress and thrust or they will be deprived of that last comfort. no fighting is allowed, and the last man left alive will be free to go. a lie, of course. currently fifteen men are left, with perhaps a dozen corpses around them. they do not know or care if the people they continue to thrust in and out of are alive. some of the corpses have been mutilated quite badly, and have perhaps a litre of semen in their decaying stomachs.

blood is perhaps the most common lubricant used, and in fact has become some sort of currency. some men are lured into oral sex, only to be tricked by the performer as they bite down. blood will often burst from their members so forcefully, that the peformer is taken aback and blood gushes from their mouth, only to be wasted. perhaps one third of the blood is successfully saved for use.

one of the other penetration rooms has reached its conclusion, and i rush over to be the first in line. the corpses are removed one by one and laid down onto tables. a courtesan motions me over to the first one removed, and i sit on a small stool facing the bottom of said corpse. soon my head is pushed forward and strapped in place, my mouth encompassing the rear end in a top hat the corpse quite neatly. another courtesan brings a small footstool over to help him stand above the corpse.

"are you ready?" he asks.

i nod as best i can. he brings his foot down onto the stomach of the corpse, applies pressure, and the decayed insides begin to splay out of the rear end in a top hat and into me.

bits of bone from broken ribs migrated into this mixture of rotting matter, so i choke slightly as they cut the inside of my throat. this is considered a faux pas, and my exposed buttocks are viciously slashed with a razor wielded by the overseer. i cannot defend myself, as my head is still strapped to the rear end in a top hat of the corpse i was previously enjoying

blood trickles from the deep gashes on my buttocks, and several attendants and other guests rush over to suck as much of the precious liquid from me as they can. eventually a courtesan frees me from the corpse, and i stand. i stride out of the room quickly, as embarrassment has left me beet red. and it is almost time for my prostate-to-bicep procedure anyway. as i march to the appropriate location, my penis grows engorged with anticipation. i am propositioned for oral sex several times on my journey, but i know better - i don't need a burst cock this late in the game.

i lay down upon the cold steel table, and am strapped into position by an attendant. another attendant rigs up the prostate pump, and the seals around my bicep injection site are checked and rechecked. a switch is flipped, and the process begins. it is quite pleasurable amidst the pain, as my prostate is pounded by a mechanical device of which the workings i am not privy to. soon the pump begins to function, and i watch out of the corner of my eye as a goopy, milky white substance gushes towards my bicep. the feeling of the hot liquid cum pumping into my arm is incredible. i can feel the warmth spreading all over my muscle.

but something goes wrong - the pressure is too high, and the injection needle snaps off inside of my arm, the cum being pumped out spraying wildly in every direction. screams and shouts are heard. this is a disaster!

the pumping machine and the prostate mechanism have gone out of control, i writhe with white hot pain as my prostate is pounded violently beyond tolerable limits, and it somehow grows even worse as the organ is literally ripped apart inside of me, causing massive internal bleeding. the milky white goodness that was previously being pumped out of me grows red, deeply red, as it is replaced almost entirely by blood - that most precious of resources here at CES. instead of helping me in some way, shutting down the mechanism that is ripping my innards apart, the attendants rush over and fight one another for access to the tube that is spraying my blood all over.

cum oozes out of the injection site on by bicep. i lay in a pool of blood, and i suddenly realize poo poo as well. my bowels have released from all the internal turmoil in my body. my bladder is most likely draining, but i cannot tell now. everything is becoming a haze. my stomach is upset. i belch. the taste of pus.

perhaps i am going to die, but more importantly - my trip is ruined.

i wake up. it is dark. i am not dead, but perhaps i should be. i am back in my hotel room. my arm is bandaged, and i feel many more bandages down below. i do not know the full extent of the damage, but i am in great pain all over and it is hard to focus on anything. i turn my head slightly towards the bedside table. several bottles of antibiotics obscure the clock, but i know it is sometime during the night.

after several minutes of rest, i manage to reach over towards the pill bottles. i notice a note. i grasp it, and shakily bring it to my face. there is barely enough ambient light to see, but i focus as best i can as i fumble it open. a contact name, an email address, and a phone number. some scribbled text.

"Thank you for attending the RAZOR CES afterparty."

i close my eyes.