The Curse Of The Spider-Monkey Apprentice
PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS ROMANTIC LITTLE TALE, IF YOU HAVE REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS IN YOUR LIFE TO ATTEND TO. SUCH AS LOOKING AFTER CHILDREN, MANAGING A HOUSEHOLD OR BUSINESS, A WEDDING COMING UP, OR A CHILD ON THE WAY. YOU MAY CONTINUE AS LONG AS YOU KNOW, THAT BY READING THIS, AND POSSIBLY LAUGHING AT IT, YOU ARE PARTAKING IN THE DEEPEST TYPE OF MORTAL SIN KNOWN TO MAN, AND YOUR SOUL WILL BECOME THAT LITTLE BIT MORE DISEASED. EVEN MORE SO THAN YESTERDAY, WHEN YOU HAD THAT UNNECESSARY THUMB UP YOUR ARSE WANK. SO DONT WORRY ABOUT ME, IM NOT GOING TO ETERNALLY BURN LIKE YOU, AS I DONT GO TO CHURCH AND DONT BELIEVE IN HELL OR SANTA-CHRIST. Introduction If it really came to it, and a young responsible fellow, after years of doing the right thing for his families welfare, decided he wanted to experience a little bit more �secretive-late-night-plopflop�, and fancied something decidedly more stressful, inherently wrong and depraved, like a �bell-tower, dick-lick aubergine challenge�, he could of course satisfy his curiosity and deep spiritual imbalance, by downing a pint of juicy squid-eggs and receiving a callus-ridden, heavy-handed blood-jerk, behind a potted plant at a phone box, by a slimy Mormon housewife, for no more, than the price of a stick of spicy-chicken-bums. But even that just doesn�t cut it sometimes for an intolerant and mentally degrading young man, as some young depraved bi-polar fellows love nothing more than publicly throwing their personal larp reservoirs over the fat Humanzee of a fucked-out, auld bar-tart, boat-refugee, from a backward and war torn, foreign land of sand. And for sure moments such as these only come along very rarely in a young fellow�s short life, for they are tests, and are to be treasured and tolerated and certainly not spoken about to the immediate family over a Sunday night bucket of garlic cuttlefish-cunts. But in actual truth, there is no need for a deranged immature, young, experimental male to go endlessly searching for these obscure black-market, sap-thrills. As those young truth-seeking gentlemen who are after a bit more excitement in their tedious lives, need simply only hire a spider-monkey for a fortnight and spend time indulging in his unique animal sexual interests and lunchtime, jungle filth-excursions. And funnily enough, this is exactly what I did, as I was at the end of my depravity-tether, and I�ve never looked back since. Apparently! (Story 1.) Never trust a monkey with a needle through his ball. I was sitting in an internet shop in Bangladesh minding my own business, when all of a sudden I smelt a well travelled bum, and this big black widow sat down beside me. Instantly my little spider-monkey friend was shaking his unbelievably putrid little yellow dick towards her and trying to get me to look round, and would you believe it, he was actually trying to get me to spit down her fucking top. But I held back with pure willpower for about 3 seconds, then as she bent down to pick up a knotted jizz-dom full of last night�s, Londoner lout larp, the spider monkey nudged me, and against my better judgement, I sneakily launched a solid flim-jim straight down her loose tit tackle. But at the same time through my shame, I realised she had one of the most amazing set of baseball-mits id ever dreamed of blowing a home-run on, and I fell totally in larp with her, and came over all squelchy, as I couldn�t think of a dam thing to say to this rather generous widgety-grub collector. By now my horrid little spider monkey had sensed my untameable breast-stress and was busy sending me obscene texts such as... (Go on, sling yer crab stick in there Mr, flick your giblet neck in master, for fucks sake! slide yer dick in ya fruit, or fuckin throw me in, and ill sort them cock-crunchers out) These tiresome and truly heartless monkey comments got me thinking, that for sure this little spidy cocksucker, was totally fuckin insane. I should have trusted my initial instincts, as I had a bad feeling about him from the very start, when he came to my door in denim hot-pants and stilettos, forcing a needle through his ball and crying hysterically, for that�s not normal behaviour round where I live. But I�m a very understanding guy, and I give everyone a chance, for even a sexual-deviant spider monkey sadist, surely has a deeply suppressed tender side. (Little did I know, that this couldn�t be further from the truth) Forgetting about the sickening filth I just read, I thought to myself. �Surely there�s gotta be a slightly more subtle way of getting my beano down between this girls big dirty Remington fuzzaways, without having to follow the beastly mind-concoctions of an obviously mentally deficient, cold-hearted, little monkey fuck�. For sure, I certainly wasn�t about to recklessly drop my 11th finger down between a couple of scavengers such as this penis-predator possessed, and possibly lose some treasured pubes in the hardcore Velcro of her neck brace. So I got busy with what I was originally doing, which was dick-teasing lady-boys online. By saying ill steal them away from abject poverty, by telling them I had lists of rich foreign sailors who wanted their very own in-house cabin boy to sail round the world with them for lots of money, but they had to look like an ugly gangly girl. Little did they know, that they would indeed meet plenty of rich sailors dicks, for they were leaving their families to live in a cupboard in a skip at the docks, where I would set them up their very own glory-hole business, where they would at least have a chance to drain their way out of my deliberate mental and physical slavery. And I needed a fucking wage quick. And for a short while, I forgot all about the fat, black, aging, female, Tommy Cooper lookalike beside me, though, I thought I could blatantly smell her pig from where I was sat, and for sure it needed an immediate change of sawdust, and a dam good enclosure scrub out, and come to think of it, maybe a floating-rib beating with a bat. After a while though, I realised she was having trouble with the keyboard, and I looked over in dismay to see, that instead of fingers, she had two families of pygmy rodent, stone-lickers hanging off pink masking-tape at her wrists. I was so shocked and turned on, that I nearly bled the white-mice placenta right there, but I was going to of course, like a true gentleman, help her with her typing. I was hoping to get standing behind her, so I could get a good sniff of her dry Neanderthal skull, whilst trying my best to get a glimpse of her arctic sewer-limpets, as I dry-rid her dark back-fat. Because for sure there wasn�t much keeping those bottom-feeders in that salt stained, Deadliest-catch, crayfish net, that she was barely wearing as a bap-top. What I did see though, in great detail, was a bit of her message, and it went like this....... (Where are you? you know I�ve only one leg, and I think a few of the snakes I�m smuggling have died inside my artificial foot and are beginning to smell like a mixture of damp digestive biscuits, ham sandwiches, orange Vicounts and pink wafers). In other words, a child�s hot, sweaty, highly unappetising, summer-school lunch box. But just as I finished reading, the cheeky little spider monkey kicked me, like the evil mutant Siamese twin, new-born foetus creature he is, and I suddenly had a brainwave. Shes skint, and hungry, so there must be a fuckin wankle here to attach my membrane layers of amphibian larp-eggs deep inside her witchdoctor-wank-wound. And just at that, completely out of the blue, and totally breaking my seductive concentration, the cheeky little attention seeking cunt of a spider monkey, put both his legs round the back of his neck, squeezed out the most God-awful sounding blarp, and stomach churning spump, and with all the swine-squealing force he could muster, thumped a heavily deformed shit out of his arse against her computer screen, whilst shaking and frothing obscenities from his cute little goldfish mouth. SWEET JESUS AND MARY! WHAT THE FUCK! So quickly, in the deepest shock imaginable and peak nervous embarrassment, I logged-off and left, praying that I would see my bride again, hopefully in a more desperate state than before, so I could later on, present to her, like a Prince Charming, my uniquely talented and ever shape-shifting bellend, and collection of Zoo-sexual animal-shaped sex toys and late-night nature cartoons. EWWWWWWWWWW! I happened to see her a couple of times, and secretly I was also able to flick a few affectionate mokes in her hair. And a few hours later, as it got dark, I saw her again, and she looked rather beautifully dishevelled and ill, and had a bit of a 1920�s freak show head on her, which complimented the sound of her club foot scraping along the cats eyes in the road. BINGO! NOWS MY CHANCE So I went over, flicked a moke on her neck and punched her tit from the side and said... (Have you lost your mess? Oh! Er! Sorry, I meant to say friends) And she told me some Argentinean granddad, cross-dresser had forced her to smuggle sea snakes in her artificial leg from Iceland and told her to meet him here. But he had of course lied and had used her as a drug-mule decoy. oh! Er! Si, Er! I meeting you India, Senorita, and we Er! spending my snaking dinero .Si? Stupid swollen bitch, I thought, there must be more to this, as this still doesn�t explain all her various heavy smells. So I bought her some liquids and grub, and as she devoured the bag of roasted frogs and a small tub of strained cricket-juice, I could see she had some natural snake-throat action of her own, that would for sure play a part in our future, shiny-purple quiz nights. And that fat chimp of hers was sending the little spider boy crazy, as it tried to chew through her crumb-laden and over-stressed shit-string. So I gots me thinking, What�s the best way to seduce a bum-smelling, fat-assed, dehydrated, dot-painting, one legged bark-cruncher who has 2 families of high-altitude rodents for fingers? Ah ha! And it came to me. If I use my perfected high-school alcohol tolerance, and tattoo a big hairy Rhino-dick on her upper lip with bamboo, and of course get her pished whilst fingering her, I could then tell her that ill give her a very special Columbian ass massage to help her unwind from her traumatic, yet personality strengthening experience. So of course the beers worked a treat, and being the gentleman still, I said, that if she wanted some privacy, she could sleep in the pig troth outside my room no problem. EWWWWWW! So back to mine, and the little spider monkey cunt was now convulsing and inhaling a bag of pigeon thigh-dirt, sniggering as he spat clumps of his cock-flot in her fringe. I told him to wise the fuck up and not to do anything dirty to ruin this for me, and he said he would behave. But something in his eyes gave him away, and it didn�t help that he was visibly shaking with adrenaline and toeing the arse of himself with the foot of her fake leg. FOR FUCKS SAKE! GET FUCKED CUNT! So she wants a shower, but before I can get her a clean towel she grabs the white hotel towel from the back of the fucking door! OH NO! FUCKING HELL! Ooops! Little does she know that this was my rancid, weekend orgy, C.S.I , larp towel, which had been used to clean up (Contamination at the crime scene) many times in the last few days, from my exotic-pet, animal orgies. And if she would have looked even closer, she would have also seen the rather numerous and hardened brown, road-kill, shit stains near the corners, that the spider monkey was responsible for, festering in the humidity, and glowing with days of hormonal, night-time, grumbling animal delights. (God knows how he managed this) And so, she basically stripped down to her fuck-suit right in front of me HOLY SHIT! and disappeared to wash her ever increasingly deteriorating simian. So I and the little spider monkey lit two cigars, kicked back, and reflected on the situation at hand. But as always he had to fucking ruin things, as the little prick, feeling full of himself, tried to sound intelligent, whilst stroking his little hairy dick shaft with my toothbrush FUCKIN GIMMIE THAT YA WEE CUNT! SLAP! And to totally wind me up, he inappropriately said... (So master, does sucking a ladies titties make her piss work?) RIGHT CUNT! I�d had enough, and I immediately attacked him and damaged his Japanese eye with a sharp metal ruler, but didn�t get a chance to smash the balls of the dirty wee fucker with a long kitchen light bulb. As before I knew it, she was back, banging her mamas manta-rays around my fuckin box-room, knowing fine well what was about to happen, yet still unsure as to what exactly I had in store for her, and her mucky little sand-ape. After I went to the shower she politely asked me in her finest Nelson Mandela accent, if I could lend her some doe, as she really wanted to eat and stay alive. She told me she still had to sell at least 3 of the sea snakes, to get money to maintain her step-dads in-house arrest for destroying her livelihood at home, by murdering her bag of blurt buffering bluebottles. Hey hey! Of course love, do you want that massage now? EWWWWWWWWWW! I fucking had her trapped, and now she was going to learn some really effective, stress-reducing, ass exercises, whether her church agreed with that kind of thing or not. So as part of my putrid plan, I lent her the tightest red gimp mask I could find clean, so I zipped her mouth up, and she lay face down and I excitedly started with the Columbian ass massage. But for fucks sake, just as I�m warming the big girl up and getting her ready to be stretched, I looked out of the corner of my eye to see the fucking spider monkey franticly pulling the dick of himself, dressed as a Spartan, but without the pants, helmet or shield. In other words, he only had a sharp stick, and an apple, but he was mumbling over and over again with a really intense face.. �this is Sparta� �this is Sparta� �this is Sparta� as he muscled the dick of himself. FUCKIN DIE CUNT! Basically, a Columbian ass Massage is..... You start and do all the pressure points of the feet by pushing your loose dick-leather between her toes, flossing the hard skin of her trotters into a little leather spectacle case, to be used later as roughage, to help her digest ever increasing doses of naturally thickening, room temperature, lunchtime larp. Making sure that I also lose my mess at least 3 times, before wiping off the excess with the back of the spider monkeys hairy little anger-conker. WHAT! I can�t believe I just included the spider monkey in my sex act with a lady! What the fuck has this little cunt done to my mind? So, I�m now totally defenceless under his monkey mind-control, but I still get both hands up round her Humanzee and sort that ladies dole-queue right out, and I slowly pulled her shitty-pink pyjamas down exposing that fat hominoids fuckit buckit, which at this time, due to inflation, was now only worth a onetime payment of �1.73. Unbeknown to her, she would have to work dam hard even for that, if she was going to see the night out in relative comfort. All ill say is this, that a Columbian ass massage, due to the prolonged exposure of innards, stinks the whole kitchen out every time, and is better conducted in a controlled area. Hence the pig troth outside my room. I feel I always have to explain about the fucking pig troth. It was a gift. I didn�t buy it; I�m not a fucking weirdo. So basically, the spider monkey took over the whole operation, and what was once based on something that loosely resembled love and respect, had now descended into utter animal filth muck carnage. And from that day on, he made her keep the zipped up gimp mask on while he freakishly pulled the teat-meat off her with deep sea fish hooks attached to his chainmail reinforced scrota . And if she wanted food she would have to blow the spider monkeys balls up with a high pressure tyre inflator, or simply injure him really badly between his arseholes, until he was so thankful, that he grew a little spare ballbag under his eyelid. It was so hard for me to watch, seeing the horrible spider monkey enjoying his life like this, he was never meant to be free and happy when he answered my advert for......... (Chimp-master seeks spider-monkey apprentice for external female body-part digestion). There were even times when id just had enough of the spider monkey and his domination of my female. So totally depressed, I would flick all my mokes in her hair and disappear to the hooker bar for pool and a bit of 8 ball bliffy-sprawl, and deliberately come back late when she was really hungry and terrified, after being tortured in the troth by the spider monkey and his truly terrible toenail collection. But the constant trauma she received while I was gone, helped her appreciate my presence, and I would try to help her by taking her out for food. But to make sure she didn�t order anything on the menu over 10p, I would happily fill her gums with her favourite warmed-up larp lasagne, before taking her out for �my� all time favourite snack.... A miniature spring roll topped with a heavy sprinkling of pink krill. In fact, she didn�t really like me using the word larp, she said it turned her off bestiality sex, and would upset her already suppressed appetite and shrinking stomach, and so �sweet-chilli� became our secret codeword for (Suck my balls and willy). And luckily that little fucking cunter of a spider monkey didn�t know it. Thankfully, due to the little cunts low grasp of English, when I shouted through a megaphone up her octopus, the name �Fred�, he knew instantly that it was my turn to blow out some lushes larp-load and he would respectfully leave the room. But I was being blackmailed over some playful penis platypus pictures and so I was forced to allow him to at least wank through the misty glass door, as long as I couldn�t hear him repeating his �Sparta� chant. I never really understood his Spartan fetish as the nasty little ballbag hated the fucking movie! But of course, eventually like all women, she took the piss, and dared to ask me to buy her a pair of new shorts. WHAT? As all she had was the one pair of really stinkin pink pyjama bottoms, that she�d previously stole off an old dying dog, that had been shitting itself involuntary to death for weeks, due to getting rid so much by a dangerous gang of well hung, Yale educated, street donkeys. I was so offended, as I just loved seeing her jam-roll in those tight, pink silverback-killers. So that was the final straw. How fucking dare she, after all I�ve done for her! So the spider monkey squeezed out a heart-stopper onto her chest and we quickly wrapped her limp body tight in Clingfilm and secretly booked her into a mental home for 30 years, revived her with some life-giving larp, then gave her what she had earned �1.73, and changed my sim. But things were not good at home after she was gone. The little spider monkey spent the next week pulling the bag off himself with a handful of sandpaper and screeching like id never heard before. He wasn�t eating my faeces (or come to think of it, his own) anymore, and would spend hours spraying his larp tears all over the pig troth where his favourite sex slave used to suffer so much. But I knew it was something more than that, and so I challenged him one night and said... �It�s ok spidy, we both loved her in our own way�. OH DEAR! That was for sure was the wrong thing to say! Instantly he gave me the most unbelievable look of utter jealous hate, lifted his porpoise porn mags, that we always shared, blew a horrendous cat-food fart my direction, and didn�t speak to me ever again. In fact, that night he left forever, and for badness, took with him the white hotel towel, that meant so much to me. In hind sight, that was actually very lucky for him, as what he didn�t know, was that his contract was up, as I�d had enough of his utter lack of respect and endless, curb-wanking convictions. For within 2 days his wab was going to end up in a breval toastie machine at my next carnivorous, animal-sex orgy. It had been arranged! So the horrible little cunt had got away with his crimes. Or so he thought. For two weeks later, as I stressfully hung hog-tied by my barse from a rusty butchers hook, with a 20kg dumbbell between my teeth, at a street party fundraiser, in aid of one-legged, beakless, puffins, I noticed a commotion on up the street, and everyone was watching a precession making its way through the crowd. And there he was, the evil little cunt, I couldn�t fucking believe it, looking smug, in a red leather, Jackson-5 jacket and wig, riding on the back of a horse, whipping the shit out of its rump. I thought �What the fuck! As I couldn�t exactly speak at this time, due to sweat in my eyes and having my barse impaled for charity. But as it came closer, all of a sudden the horse pulled off its disguise to reveal it was the leader of the clever, but dangerous, well hung, Yale educated, street donkeys, and it bit deep round the dick shaft of the spider monkey and ripped the little fuckers diseased offendage off at the shaft. And when the little cunt hit the ground squealing like a barbequed bobcat, 5 more parasite ridden street donkeys raped the little fuck senseless right there on the road for all the tourists, then went round with a bucket and a flick knife collecting that night�s white-cider and scotch egg money. Ha! Fuck him, I hated everything about him, especially his shits that I would routinely find kicked behind my rucksack and pressed up inside my bedside lampshade. FUCK HIM! It was weeks later though, that I got an unexpected parcel through the post and I opened it excitedly thinking it might be the battery powered silk-lips that id ordered a month ago. But to my absolute horror and deepest angst, what I now had presented in front of me, was a metre square photograph of my bedroom, and on my bed with his hole in the air, ballbag on my pillow, and cock in my silk-lips, was that horrible little cunt of a spider monkey squeezing out the worst looking yellow shit into my lemon shower-gel bottle. OH MY HOLY GOD! I�d been washing myself with his secret street-food filth for weeks. And id been wondering why that cock-eyed Dalmatian dog kept climbing up on chairs behind me and sitting quietly sniffing my back. And the worst part of all was that he was doing a really relaxed middle finger at me and winking, and he was wearing my white towel as a turban and sporting a ginger moustache. WHERE THE FUCK HAD HE HIDDEN THE MOUSTACHE ALL THIS FUCKING TIME? THIS BOTHERED ME MOST OF ALL. FUCK HIM ANYWAY, JUST FUCK HIM! I WONT LET HIM HAUNT ME FROM THE GRAVE HE�S GONE. HE�S DEAD THE CURSE IS OVER. I�m glad I saw him getting raped to death in the street by drunken donkeys FUCK HIM! He deserves what he got. LITTLE CUNT! FUCK HIM! CUNT! (WELL, AT LEAST I THINK HE GOT RAPED TO DEATH) This is Sparta! This is Sparta! This is Sparta! UH! Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! THE END! DISCLAIMER- All characters within this story are indeed true life individuals and this story is indeed as close to the actual truth as can be recalled. I don�t personally think that I, in any way have issues of any sort, just a good imagination, and lots of time. I must also stress right here now, for the record, that I have NEVER-EVER ordered a battery powered silk-lips ever in my life. I would also like to add that no relatives of the human species were harmed in the making of this movie (Yes, it�s also a movie. 4 hrs) although there were a few life threatening internal injuries sustained by a chimp, when he was thrown off a cherry-picker onto a car roofrack, hitting an iron drainpipe on the way down, and then accidently shot in the ass. Please circulate this wonderful story to all that will appreciate it, and for fucks sake, for your own sake and public respect, do not show to wives, girlfriends, mother of your child, or future wives, as all who read this to the end, are now implicated in its depravity and deeply misunderstood, sexual treachery. Peace.
Copyright © 2011 Timothy Armhead Ladder |