Message from TPho in The Right Server #shitpost
I don't have perms to post images?
@Crime you should be able to in this room now man, just don't post NSFW or anime
Read up, boys
Trump is chad
mfw <#486385674929307668> is now part of my daily routine <:PepeChill:378748692741750794>
Silence means no
The roasties of 2018 have become chronically prolapsed STD hostels. Despite their steady dribble of viscous snail trails, their dangly beef curtains, even their near constant harvesting of new strains of HPV and gonorhea, Chads and Betas line up to service them, to wallow and worship in beefed out body horror. It's been said the bow-legged sluts of our era are now so rotten, their eviscerated vaginas actually "spit" every time they take a step. Sometimes with an audible queef, other times quiet, these whores jettison whatever melange of fluids are sloshing within their polygamous caverns. It's not unusual to spy spotty trails and blood tinged puddles wherever the posterior of a sexually liberated woman has rested
It is often said, the toastier the roast, the bigger the beef. Something mysterious happens amidst a given roastie’s goring and boring, the punishing penetrations and serial prolapses. That once delicate, sliver of an innie blossoms like an angry meaty tulip, one that holds only gaping darkness as its pollen. Diving deeper into her labyrinthine labia, we peer into an incredible world beneath the beef and bologna, one ruled by a kind of ‘Rule of the Jungle,” only this empowered ecology spreads itself open to a new batch of invasive species almost every evening. Those Papilloma particles are pummeled and pulverized into her flesh, the same as the sticky spores of Gonorrhea, the motley lots of adenoviruses, amoebas and anaerobic fauna, many from vastly far away places. Driven through her epithelial layers and deep into her beef, they burrow and seek out nutrition, infection, and begin to terraform the vaginal tissues into a land suitable for the apocalyptic droves deposited throughout each cycle of the sun. Her immune system has long since grown into an abiding symbiosis with the invasive menagerie of bacteria, fungie and flagelating mystery monsters, even incorporating genes delivered by the various retroviruses and postules of microRNA sent throughout her blood stream at the behest of her vagina’s new tenants. Designed by nature to be a fertile pasture for reproduction, now her semen-soddened womb whistles hollow like a ghostly edifice remaining from a war. But she has become enhanced in other ways by her network of viral supporters. HPV has hacked her dopamine and serotonin circuitry, making her bolder and more brazen, more risk-seeking and even more sexually insatiable.
Atop a new cock, the roastie must ride, and the plentiful organisms who have accelerated this behavior are more than happy to go along. Every new cock that thunders into her caverns will emerge slick with generations of eager microbes, poised to pilfer whichever pussies await. With the advent of cock sharing apps on their phones, the roastie can spread her sexually transmitted spawn at a geometric rate, leading to a new pan-vaginal ecology that extends across the urbanized world. A splat of virii from Jakarta may pollinate the meat flowers of a swingers club in a sleepy British countryside, only to then appear in American college dorms before shipping itself inside travelers bound for Tokyo, Toronto and Taipei. The hyperactive sexual behaviors of the modern roastie ensure these rapid transmissions and go on to create a Darwinian cauldron in which entire continents' best sexually transmitted organisms vie for survival: Turkish syphilis must best a West African Chlamydia for control of a patch of pussy, and all of them fear the HIV, for it casts a great uncertainty over their continued access to unlimited penises. This ceaseless genetic warfare has weaved its way into the roastie’s genome, driving her near mad with compulsion for another go on the cock carousel, her own natural instincts having melded with the minge microbiome steering her. Obstruct or otherwise hinder her access to dick, and you will be met with incandescent feminine rage, albeit tinged by a mind soppy with yearning for yet another new protuberant phallus. The roastie can only think in terms of genitalia and sexual behavior, and so her opponent must obviously be a virgin, or a sexually impoverished beta male. Or his penis has the fault of being one of the few that have not cleaved her bunny bloody. Whatever the criticism, the rage is purely an expression of the busy biome sizzling away within the endless ravines of her rippling beef. She really cannot help herself.