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QUEER JESUS
Jesus Christ walked past the barber shop. He considered, briefly,
getting his hair cut. After all, Julius Caesar had short hair. But Jesus had
long hair. Jesus decided against the haircut. He was a fag. He liked
having long hair. With long hair, he could pretend to be a woman. That
was always fun, cross-dressing. Then, when he walked the streets,
especially at night, men would try to pick him up and have sex with him.
Jesus already had his own mini-harem. It consisted of twelve men.
He called them his 12 disciples. People wondered sometimes why Jesus,
who was popular with prostitutes like Mary Magdalene, didnÕt have sex
with them. Jesus knew why. He was too busy having sex with his twelve
disciples!
Jesus tugged on his robe. It was long and flowing. It looked like a
womanÕs dress. Some men, like Julius Caesar, wore a short tunic, with a
belt around it. But Jesus favored long, dress-like robes. It made it all the
easier for him to pick up new boyfriends on Friday and Saturday night.
Jesus knew it was wrong for him to break the Judaic law. Yet he
was always going around breaking it, enraging the priests and the Levites.
This was because Jesus was a masochist. He knew someday theyÕd catch
him, and whip him. That excited Jesus. Perhaps, if he was lucky, theyÕd
even nail him up on a cross. HeÕd probably be wearing very little clothing
when they did that to him. If he popped a boner, up there on the cross,
everybody would be able to see it. That excited Jesus even more. He knew
there might be lots of men, and young boys, looking up at him, hanging
from the cross, just after being freshly flogged, and heÕd pop a boner and
show them how big he was.
Jesus felt a little worried, in his excitement. What if he had to pee,
while he was hanging up there on the cross? HeÕd be up there, and those
big hunky Roman Centurions would be down below him, dividing up his
clothes! How delicious, being stripped naked by big hunky soldiers, and
then whipped, and then strung up, showing all the world your boner, while
big men competed with each other to see which of them would get to keep
your clothes.
And if Jesus had to pee, or to poop, hanging up there on that big,
wooden cross, well heÕd just do it -- right on the heads of those Roman
centurions. Maybe theyÕd get angry, getting peed on the head like that.
Maybe one of those soldiers would lift up his big, long, penis-like spear,
and stick Jesus with it! Maybe right in JesusÕ ass!
Jesus felt himself having hot flashes. ÒSuffer -- the little children
to come unto meeee!Ó he said, and started whacking himself off, right
there in the street. That, too, was a violation of the Judaic law, and Jesus
hoped he might get himself arrested for that.
But JesusÕ time had not yet come. (Though he himself did come,
standing there in the street.)
ÒAnd best of all,Ó Jesus said to himself, ÒPeople will be stupid
enough to worship me, after IÕm dead. After all, as P.T. Barnum will say
someday, ÔThereÕs a sucker born every minute.Õ
ÒBig dudes, who think themselves Ôtotal men,Õ hating fags, and
pedophiles, and thinking themselves very moral, will go to church every
week, and look up at me, hanging there on the cross in their church (with
my boner showing just a little),Ó Jesus told himself. ÒYes, even though
IÕm basically the Pee Wee Herman of Roman history, these big men will
spend all their life worshipping me, a long-haired, dress-wearing,
unemployed, law breaking shit! And theyÕll even be stupid enough to
criticize people who donÕt worship me. And theyÕll pass lots of laws too,
ÔDonÕt drink on Sunday,Õ ÔDonÕt read this,Õ ÔDonÕt do that.ÕÓ Jesus liked that.
ÒLots of laws, stupid laws, that people would wind up breaking, and have
to be punished for,Ó Jesus said, musing, as he continued to whack off in
the street. ÒOOOoooh! Such a society would have to have LOTS of prisons!
And more prisoners, per capita, than any nation on earth. More even than
the Soviet Union will ever have!Ó Jesus screamed happily. He reflected, as
he built toward another orgasm, on where such a country like this would
have to be. It would have to be, he decided, located in the New World.
(Which wasnÕt discovered yet.) Only the New World could contain such a
big, dumb country.
ÒTheyÕll probably give such a country a dumb name,Ó Jesus told
himself. ÒNot Greece, or Rome. Or France, or Germany. No, it will have a
really long name, like a really long penis. The United States of America.
Yes! ThatÕs a nice long name. With lots of laws in it, and prisons, and
prisoners, and wardens, and sheriffs, and chain gangs. And lots of
hypocrites too, who shout epithets at the prisoners on the chain gangs,
just like IÕll (hopefully) have epithets shouted at me, when IÕm hanging up
there on the cross!Ó
Being a masochist, and a gay, Jesus found all this speculation about
a big, dumb country with lots of sadistic laws to be very exciting.
ÒAnd this country, worshipping me, will probably have lots of
nuclear weapons.Ó Jesus decided. ÒEnough to kill everyone on earth, or at
least to make them suffer very GREATLY. And this big, hypocritical nation
will even try out these big bombs. Not once, but twice! Yes! Blowing
away lots of men, women, and CHILDREN too! Why? Because, IÕll bet, a
few of its ships will be sunk in some harbor. Pearl Harbor. Yes. For a few
sunken ships, and a few soldiers killed, America, that big fucking country,
will kill thousands of schoolchildren on their way to school, in Hiroshima
and Nagasaki! And women too. And then this big, dumb-ass country will
go on to claim itÕs protecting children, when in fact it has the blood of
thousands of dead Japanese children on its hands.Ó
Jesus went into new orgasms, standing there in the street, thinking
of all the dumb fucks who would be stupid enough to worship him in the
years to cum. Especially the ones in that country with the long, penis-like
name.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 274
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Four
I flopped down on the bed. My job was done. With frightened, but
sexually-heated eyes, I watched as Bambi drew a strap from the whip-bag
and curled it through her fingers. Then, with my ass poised high to receive
it, she brought it down hard on my bottom.
I walked as daintily as I could, but my bottom hurt and it moved with
an impulse of its own. I was wearing a dress so small it lay high on my
ass, lying neatly across its upper curve but showing all beneath. Within
my cleft a large dildo had been driven. I hoped the guests would not
notice. I advanced to their table with my pad in hand, ready to take their
order. Except for my nothing skirt I wore only a chiffon scarf, tied round
my neck. IÕd been freed of my manacles. In their place I did, however,
wear small lace gloves on my hands, and hightop black booties. But my
bosoms hung free, my belly was bare, and my thighs, my calves, all were
naked. In front my dress dipped just low enough to almost hide all of my
pubis. A little showed under the hem. It was not quite long enough to hide
all of me.
ÒGood evening sir, madam,Ó I nodded. I had a neat little maidÕs cap
on my head. The man gazed at my tits musingly for a moment, saying
nothing. Then he let his hand slip beneath my skirt and he tugged very
lightly at my pubic mound.
ÒHow sweet,Ó the gentlemanÕs lady friend said. There was a second
couple at the table with them and they smiled at me, at each other. The
women wore party dresses. The men were in tuxes.
As I stood taking their order, the woman closest to me touched my
thigh and turned me so that she could admire my heinie. She gasped when
she saw the big dildo stuffed into it. It had a flanged end to keep the
whole thing from going up me. It was my job to walk tight-assedly,
keeping the thing up me. Rose had decided it would teach me Ôbottom
control,Õ and had denied me a g-string chain at the last minute to hold the
dildo in place. From my dildo a plumed feather grew, as if to show off
that which made me so uncomfortable. The woman gasped as she saw the
source of my feather.
ÒMy, dear, youÕve got quite a dong stuck up you,Ó she breathed.
ÒOh, let me see!Ó the woman with her declared. I was made to show
my ass to them all. Their order was temporarily forgotten. I blushed
deeply as they examined my bottom, touched my plume, caressed (though
the occasion did not call for it) my moistening slit.
When at last they had satisfied themselves, they made me write
down the rest of their order. Then I went to the kitchen with it, all of
them watching my ass as I walked away. I felt mortified. Rose would not
have wanted it any other way. I was a newly-minted resident of Cunt
Castle now. I was one rank up from novice love slave. I was experienced
now, both having received and given a whipping. I felt accomplished.
Despite my embarrassment I walked as one does when she is proud of her
place in life. I let them see the still-fading marks on my bottom from the
strapping IÕd let Bambi give me. IÕd let her...I could not believe it. IÕd
stuck up my bottom to her and asked for it. How ridiculous, how selfless,
how daring...but IÕd done it. And sheÕd strapped me quite vigorously. Rose
had been surprised at my boldness. Our party had disintegrated after that,
all of us but Cheyenne fucking in and around my bed like wild Indians. At
last, remembering Cheyenne, we unfastened her from the post and
encouraged, with not inconsiderable effort, Louis and Andre to become
hard one last time and do her. TheyÕd been called upon again and again that
morning, but somehow we managed to inspire new sperm in their balls.
They were made to pump it into poor, crying Cheyenne, who received it
pettishly, but thankfully, IÕm sure, after all IÕd made her suffer.
Now I was enjoying my new rank as an experienced love slave. I was
the same rank as Joanne and Sylvia now. I was in charge of serving meals
in Cunt CastleÕs guest dining room. I didnÕt cook them, merely took orders
and kept the guests entertained. And, simultaneously, I was having my
bottomhole widened. At least as much as I could stand it. I was trying my
best to accommodate LouisÕs wishes. Rose said I could cheat a little if I
wanted to, and take the dildo out now and then, but I was trying my best
not to. Each day she promised to give me a larger one to hold inside
myself. Sometimes the g-string chain would be used. Today, though, she
wanted to see if I could keep it within myself by holding my asscheeks
tight as I could. It was kind of hard, given how big the dildo was, and how
much it stretched and widened me. Yet I tried, biting my lip sometimes,
getting help at other times to stick it back up me if it started to come
out.
ÒFour chicken dinners on table one,Ó I announced to Brent, entering
the kitchen. HeÕd been found doing unspeakable things with his own
daughters in the childrenÕs nursery and had to promise to work in the
kitchen for a week to avoid having his wife told about it. He wore a chefÕs
hat. His hairy chest was bare, his cock hard, despite the closeness of the
grill he slaved over. He did not seem unhappy. I think he was intrigued
with me, and the promise and availability of my body. Well, I didnÕt have
to keep the chef happy, I reminded myself, just the guests. But he looked
enticing with his big cock, working manfully over his grill.
ÒAlright, IÕll put four chickens on the grill,Ó Brent told me.
Currently he was roasting hot dogs, for RoseÕs lunch, out back in the
dayroom with Polly and Louis and Andre and (sitting on pillows) Cheyenne.
ÒDonÕt get your own too close to that,Ó I reminded Brent.
ÒHow thoughtful... may I put it someplace where the sun doesnÕt
shine to keep it warm?Ó he asked me. He glanced at me.
ÒMaybe later,Ó I suggested. I began pouring drinks for my guests.
Two Bloody Marys and two Gin and Tonics. Brent gazed approvingly at my
ass.
ÒIÕm glad youÕre wearing that thing,Ó he told me. ÒYouÕll have
trouble taking me, big as I am.Ó
ÒYouÕre no bigger than my Louis,Ó I replied.
ÒStill, youÕll feel me quite well, I can assure you, no matter how
receptive you try to make that pretty little ass of yours.Ó
ÒYou have a cute butt yourself,Ó I replied. ÒHave you ever thought of
having one of those broiled hot dogs stuffed up it?Ó
ÒHey, I was only trying to be friendly,Ó Brent said.
ÒSo was I,Ó I replied. ÒRemember, IÕm qualified to be a domme now!Ó
He shuddered and left off watching my heinie and went back to cooking his
dogs and my chickens. ÒNice and spicy,Ó I reminded him. ÒYou know, the
chickens...Ó
ÒOh, it will be nice and spicy, when I fuck you,Ó Brent said to me.
ÒWeÕll see...Ó I called to him, and left the kitchen, walking carefully,
carrying the drinks for my guests on a small silver tray. They admired me
as I walked across the room toward them, my breasts jiggling, my steps
mincing to keep the dildo from popping out of me. I was submissive. I
was happy. They would rape me before their dinner was done but I told
myself not to worry about it. I had learned to serve. When I arrived at
their table one of the women picked up a cannister of Cool-Whip. SheÕd
kept it hidden Ôtil now, but I guessed she must have fetched it from the
kitchen before they even sat down. Guests take liberties like that,
sometimes, at the Castle, especially if theyÕve visited before.
I lifted their drinks one by one from my tray. Bending forward, my
breasts dangling, I served each of them their drinks. As I stood erect to
leave the woman with the cream stilled me with a hand on my thighs.
Then she lifted up the front of my skirt. She aimed the whipped cream at
my pussy. I tried not to flinch. She depressed the top of the can and I felt
chilly cream squirt all over my mound. Then she replaced my dress.
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hi, christians. Are you reading this? DonÕt skip any parts of this, okay?
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ÒThere. Now I donÕt have to worry about my husband looking at your
pussy each time your dress flips up,Ó she said to me. ÒAs for your nipples,
I have a more permanent solution.Ó She put down the can of cream and
opened her purse. I gasped as I saw her draw out two nipple clips. She put
her hand to the small of my back and made me lean forward to receive
them. I winced as each was clipped on to my erect nipples. It hurt! I
tried not to cry out but I couldnÕt help myself. The clips were heavy. I
worried that they might make my breasts sag. They did draw my breasts
downward a little. I was proud of my high, firm breasts. I didnÕt want
them ruined.
ÒHurry with our dinner and IÕll take the clips off when it arrives,Ó
the woman told me in a no-nonsense tone.
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó I said with an abashed look. Despite my pride and my
self-confidence, sheÕd found a way to bring me down. I turned and,
struggling to hold back my tears, I walked to the kitchen. I could feel my
breasts bobbing and hanging with each of my steps. They felt as if
Christmas ornaments had been hung from them. I was acutely aware of
the clips. They made me think of my breasts in new ways. I was a thing
on which objects could be hung, for amusement. Brent laughed when he
saw me come into the kitchen.
ÒDonÕt expect me to allow you to take those off in here,Ó he warned,
as he saw me reach up to try to dislodge one of the clips.
ÒYouÕre mean,Ó I pouted.
ÒClipped and creamed and stuffed,Ó he said, flipping a chicken on the
grill, admiring me as he spoke. ÒIÕd say youÕre pretty well accounted for,
young lady.Ó
ÒJust hurry up and get those chickens cooked!Ó I snapped.
ÒOnly if you play with me while I do,Ó he answered. I agreed, went
up to him, and took hold of his dick. I fondled it with my fingers. I drew
it dangerously close to the grill, so that he had to yank himself back to
keep from getting burned. He laughed. I giggled, feeling the weights
jangle on my breasts. I was still happy, after all. Life was strange here
at the castle, but I hoped it never ended.
After my exhausting service at lunch I was taken upstairs by Sylvia
and Joanne. They bathed me in my tub. Joanne plumped up my breasts and
tweaked my nipples. They felt good. I was glad I was free of those awful
weights. Sylvia experienced difficulty in bathing me. She was bound into
a tight corset. Her hair was long, loose, combed back and pinned into place
by a small pair of barrettes. She was naked except for her corset. It did
not cup her breasts, or cover them. It left them as free as if she were an
Indian maiden, untried by men and unbroken. Her legs, her ankles, even her
feet were bare. But the corset bound her middle like an iron grip.
ÒTake it off,Ó I told her. I rubbed one of my nipples with my hand. It
ached from the clamp. I did not want to see her constricted so. There was
no need. She was slim and beautiful.
ÒNo,Ó Joanne cautioned. She took my hand from my breast and kissed
it, then placed it into the bubbled water of the bath. She fondled my
breast for me. I was to do nothing. They had even wiped me after my
potty. ÒShe is wearing it for her branding. It will constrict her waist
even more and plump out her bottom.Ó I gasped. I looked at Sylvia. She
was not as nonplussed as sheÕd been in earlier days. She nodded, said
nothing. ÒJust do her hair. IÕll do the rest of her. That way you wonÕt
have to bend over so much,Ó Joanne told Sylvia. Then she confided in me:
ÒWe help and support each other as much as we can. Our masters are very
demanding.Ó
AND IN THE END...
WITCHES! FAGS! COMMIES! PEDOPHILES!
escaped slaves! marauding Indians! immigrants!
ÒRaising fearful spectres is a well-tried device of governments
under political pressure (or of generals who want bigger budgets.)Ó
- The Economist, May 10, 1997, pg. 36.
(Enemies, both foreign and domestic! - h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-END OF 274 EMISSION
- mine eyes have seen the glory of the cumming of the lord.