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 Now online (2)steve mcqueen Hyperflake ...and 131 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
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As soon as that dopamine starts flowing: woomf, its time to poo.. ..and where better to poo than in the toilet in your bathroom. What you probably didn't know is that your toilet is making you an impatient, depraved, self-gratifying without patient delay, addict. You see, when you hunker down on the porcelain throne to growl out a megaturd, you're feeding more than your friend John, you're feeding the monkey on your back, and in your butt. When you sit atop the ring of immediate gratification, your soul immediately begins a trail of tears out your rectum. First you relax onto your buttcheeks and your pelvic floor collapses, oozing your core muscles towards hemorrhoidal tragedy as you grunt and gasp your way to defecatory climax. As your colon and its contents find solace in their new home far below your rectum, your innards have performed a transformation much like those tubules inside tubules known as water-weanies. The insides have come out, and your neck and throat have been pulled down towards the can. Then you rest and feel the relief flood over you as your poor ignorant body relaxes further, unburdened by its load of toxic brown ejaculate, rewarding itself as nature programmed us to do. This is the reward system, the foundation of addiction. Imagine one has used all of one's personal strength to hover above the lid and not give in to the temptation to lose oneself in the previous paragraph's descriptatum: toned calves and arches support one's humanoid legs and knees as a tidy brown vessel of self control deposits itself in the basin below. No wae of relaxation, no-- the stalwart reassurance that things are going to be okay. One is building discipline, building anal tensor strength, a foundation for the pelvic floor that won't immediately lead to the instant gratification associated with that travesty known as the toilet seat (or as it may be referred to, The Unholy Maw). One wipes the small amount of doo-doo which has been pinched into a perfect rosebud of inconvenience and deposit |
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the moistly soiled toilet paper in the hellhole which is safely below your root balance. One rises to the upright position which most elegantly characterizes the late evolutionary form of the humanoid, and experiences.. the reward. The reward which was delayed long enough to regain bowel composure, the reward which was earned, which was not clawed at mindlessly like overfed carrion picking the last of the offal-- the dopamine which has been justly earned for a job well done. One is not an addict, one is a citizen of the new world, free of the tyranny of your mindless obedience to the Western Porcelain Cult. Fighting the disorder known as addiction begins every day as we rise from our hovels to complete our nocturnal emission cycle with a glorious morning poo that builds character and thigh strength. We are not addicts when one fights the monkey in your butt and in your bathroom. brought to you by the department for healthy pubic symphises, international. |
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[nods sagely] "Pudding." |
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vice is alright, but i wish you could download their videos |
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If addiction is healthy, it's called discipline. |
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I wonder what its like to lay a cable in zero G, without gravity assist bet its really hard to get rid of clagnuts |
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it's |
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