Gamblin' Gal...KAREN

[MisterV]

"Of course I talked; we ALL talk here at the castle of the witch Axl. The real question is "What is it you have always wanted to do, but never could?"

Karen unleashed a deep, contemplative fart to help jumpstart her mental processes; soon she responded.

"I and I has wanted to go backs ta Aferca an' do dat cool dance, you knows..."

"Oh, the Zaouli bird dance?"

"Dat's be it. But ever since I and I be a girl I wants to be a bird and den a Zaouli dancer...It be my dreams."

"Well, you are in luck. Jump up and grab the key with a skull on it and see what happens."

Karen leaped, grabbed and then...continuous morphing...

[MHF]

Doesn't look like she's coming back for much, if anything, given her last post, which sort of shows that she's more concerned with the gambling forums in past than in future. As if she no longer cares about the thus forums.

If only Mdawg had been active when I was being heavily bullied, harassed, insulted, and attacked on WOV the first time around. There's NO way he wouldn't have stood up for me! And he surely wouldn't have called me a Moron and reported my PM to Admins. Shame Mdawg became active on WOV in 2020 a year after I was permanently banned at the time.

[pinchingyourballs]

On WoV she has her own corner and the everlasting protection of the gizzard and his minions. On VCT she has the pornographic minstrel show of Mr. V. and no admin protector. Not hard to see why she done ghosted.

[MisterV]

Bah.

She thinks she's a good writer; given that why doesn't she try turning the tables on her detractors?

It's not as if she has no material to work with, to weave into a compelling narrative, or she could make shit up, who cares? Who knows?

Retribution should be a walk in the park for a writer of her perceived talent.

Come and get us Karen...I'll leave the light on for ya.

[MHF]

A big let down for her to be allowed back on to the WoV, but, only to little attention, and a nearly dead board. Now she will always wonder about what would have been had she not been banned - another wholly useless pursuit. Oh, well. Strange people do strange things.

Maybe, I'll hit post #137, before this one is essentially gone.

[MisterV]

The fog cleared from her noggin and Karen opened her puffy eye lids, only to hear mammie saying "Wake up, chile."

Karen found herself supine on the kitchen floor of her Miami home, her mother looking down at her with a worried look on her wrinkled face.

"Wha...wha happened, mammie? Is I and I really home?"

"Girl, I done did told yo' so...yo' did it, yo' slipped in yo' own shit; yo' been un-consh-is for 'bot a hour."

"A hour?"

"Yes, and yo' babble all kinda shit... 'gators, witches, shlongs..."

Karen recalled it all with crystal clarity; "Helps me up 'dere mammie and leads me to my 'puter, I and I has to write all 'dat down, fer pros-ti-terity."

With mammie's help Karen found her seat in front of their aged PC; with Church's chicken in hand she began her tale.

"Karen was on a bit of a winning streak, but as we all know streaks come to an end."

"Mammie, 'dis be my bestest yet, I and I wind 'dat Pul-zer 'ward fo' sho'."

[theywontpayontuesday]

In 2015, Italian neurosurgeon Sergio Canavero announced that he intended to perform a human head transplant within a few years, and even more shockingly, he had a volunteer for the almost guaranteed-to-be-lethal procedure: a Russian man named Valery Spiridonov. The guy was all fucked up in a wheel chair suddenly and was 33 with a very successful past. He was all curled up in a wheel chair being unable to move his body practically. The head transplant didn't wind up going through because Valery Spiridonov backed out of the head transplant, because he married a gorgeous, attractive female who is academically successful herself as a chemical engineer, and she had a perfect body most able bodied men never acquire and somehow this cripple ran a software company, so he had no need to sacrifice his body with almost certain suicide with the surgery. It's funny because MrV talks about Karen marrying some guy like this for money and marriage, then one of those men goes so out of his league successfully.

[pinchingyourballs]

As Karen was writing her Great American Novel at the family computer, the Church's Chicken sandwich in her hand transformed into a lava lamp with boobs and began muttering to itself in German. Hmm, Karen wondered, I don't think that's supposed to happen in real life. I must still be in a coma, she mused further.

"Welp, if it's a coma dream then I guess I can do whatever I want."

She opened up the hall closet where they kept the vacuum and ironing board, and to her delight the closet was a 2000 square foot dressing room. She put on a wedding dress and shoes and then opened a small jeweled box which held a deflated groom doll. With superhuman strength she inflated it, upon which it became a real man.

The doll-man spoke: "Karen, my beloved blushing bride, it is I, ---"

Karen put a greasy index finger to his lips.

"I know who you are. I have been fantasizing about meeting you in person ever since I began trolling VCT. I read your posts every day. And now, in this coma dream, you are all mine!"

[MisterV]

Judge V. was nonplussed by the amorous advances of the Nubian hussy.

"Harrumph" he harrrumphed: "Got any Peruvian flake? My nostrils are just itching..."

"Dis be my dreams, not'n your'n so shuts da fuck up and kiss me."

Much to his surprise the reluctant Romeo found himself placing his lips against hers, inserting his tongue and plunging recklessly forward; he grasped her pendoulus breast and gave it a gentle squeeze..

"Now you's talkin'" she moaned.

Completely out of his mind with lust Judge V. ravaged the nubile coma-victim, repeatedly bashing her gash, causing the previously asxexual autistic woman untold and unfamiliar paroxysms of joy.

But then...POOF...it all disappeared; Karen found herself typing out yet another bullshit tale to a "casino friend" hitting the lonely codger up for money.

Still aroused from her dream, Karen stopped typing; she closed her eyes and then massaged the stinky V between her ample thighs, imagining, wishing, hoping...until she rode a wave of thunder.

[pinchingyourballs]

Meanwhile in Vegas, an elderly woman whose legal name was "Kewl J. Mom" read the pornographic minstrel show with delight. "Why can't my son Jules Kewl write like that?" she said aloud. "All he ever does is write boring walls of text defending his tales of questionable veracity. Where are the talking animals? Where is the jive talking? Where is the masturbation? It's enough to make a woman stop reading her son's anonymous forum postings."

A nearby talking giraffe overheard the mutterings and bent down low and poked his head through Kewl J. Mom's open window. "I'd have to agree. It is a bit tiresome. By the way, could you do me a favor?"

Kewl J. Mom was agog at the giraffe, but being ever so polite, responded, "Yeah... Sure, I guess. Uh, what do you need?"

The giraffe removed his head from the window and laboriously shifted his position until his dick and balls were in the window instead. "Would you mind picking off this scorpion that's pinching my balls?"

[MisterV]

This wasn't the first time Kewl J. Mom had been propositioned by a giraffe.

"I know your kind" she barked: "Just because you have black tongues you think you're King Shit. Well, have I got news for you..."

Seeking relief and not a lecture, the lanky scorpion attack victim sought out a more likely savior; he espied a promising sight next door where an old coot was talking into his shoe.

"Sir, one minute: can you..."

"Hang on, I'm busy." With that R. Bert Stinger completed his call to CIA HQ; he folded up his shoe phone, put it on, adjusted the position of the socks he'd stuffed in his Jockey briefs and smiling said "Now, what can I do you for?"

"Are you the male prostitute that lives in the tunnels I've read so much about?"

Stinger blushed, then thanked the giraffe and shook his hoof.

"Yeah, that's me. I only do it to spy on the Little People, to make sure they vote for Trump. Say...are YOU voting for Trump?

Apolitical as are most giraffes this line of questioning induced the giraffe to flee; he soon espied a burnoosed body builder toting a brief case and a bottle of KY jelly.

"Sure I'll help ya...I know all about those scorpions. Back home in the Sahara I used to put them in my brother's boots: great times. But first things first."

The giraffe watched as the swarthy Arab lured a wandering ewe to him then lubed up, mounted and fucked the indifferent beast.

"Ah, that's better; now what's this about a scorpion?"

But the giraffe had fled, back to the space between the two universes.

"What fools these mortals be" he concluded.

What fools, indeed...

[MisterV]

Karen smiied as she told her mother "Mammie, dem white devils, dey can't catches me now."

"Whadda fuck girl, wha' you yakkin' about? And stop shittin' de flo'."

Karen pulled up her soiled panties and XXL sweat pants and said "Dey tinks dey so smart, but I and I has fooled dem fo' sho'."

"'Dat don' matta, girl: wha' matters be if'n we's got 'nuff Church's chicken fo' dinner."

"Dis be bigger 'n dat; dat mo-fo Mr. V he caughts on to me not postin' anyting at VCT or WOV for a month but dat devil he seed dat I and be logged in at WoV ever day so's I and I can lurk...bein' logged in it let the site's 'puter tell who visits ever day and dat white devil seed I came ever day to lurk. Fuck me, I been caught."

"Hand me dat mop."

"Mammie, I and I is SO CLEVER...I and I LOGGED OUT so nows when I and I comes to visit WoV dey cannot tells when I and I be lurkin'."

"Watch where you be walkin', girl...damn, wipe dat off'n yo bare feet."

"I and I is invis-ble now."

[pinchingyourballs]

Mary-Helen Farton shivered with delight reading the latest best-seller from her favorite pornographic author, Madame V. It was midnight and M-H F. was ensconced under her bed quilt. "Boy that Madame V. can really write a floor shitting scene! It almost makes me want to shit my own floor. But alas it is carpeted and Aunt Mohammed would make me clean it with a toothbrush and noxious chemical cleaning agents. I guess I will resign myself to shitting in the toilet," Mary-Helen Farton mused aloud, to nobody in particular. She punctuated the thought with a hot, rancid egg toot tinged with rotting fruit. (Too much of Aunt Mohammed's homemade apple pie.) Under the quilt, its stench was more redolent of boiled cabbage and it lingered deliciously and Mary-Helen inhaled it rapturously.

Downstairs, Aunt Mohammed and Uncle Jules were preparing Aunt Mohammed's nightly feminizing hormone injections. At first, Uncle Jules was irritated that he had to sell his favorite horse to afford a 6-month regimen, but as he saw his husband's breasts take shape over the months, and penis shrivel down to a limp pinky, his stance softened and grew accustomed to the idea of being part of a trans hetero couple instead of a cis gay couple.

"Do you think we did the right thing taking in your sister's orphan?" Aunt Mohammed asked Uncle Jules. "I mean, we don't have much money to buy her nice things like other girls her age, and we can't afford to send her to school more than one month out of the year. Perhaps we should have let her stay at the orphanage so that a wealthier couple could adopt her."

"Nonsense Mo, Mary-Helen is family and nobody would love her like we do. Plus, maybe we can marry her off to that rich boy, Nathan MacInTasha. His family owns 17 Church's Chicken restaurants in the greater Miami area. Then we wouldn't have to sell all of our stuff to afford your tranny treatments."

"I know you're right Jules, honey, I just worry that she spends too much time alone upstairs reading those Madame V. novels. A girl her age should be studying the Quran and working on a Unified Theory of Everything."

Jules nodded in agreement but did not say anything. He was eyeing the syringe full of feminizing hormones, wondering if perchance he too should take the plunge.

[MisterV]

"To be, or not to be: that is the question."

"Did you say something Jules?"

"I was just thinking out loud and you know what, give me a shot of that feminizing hormone."

Jules was confused. Within the confines of his furrowed brow he tried to make sense of the mess his life had become.

"Not since I first fucked a sheep have I been so confused" he said, confusing a sheep for the ugly sheep-faced girl he had married.

He recalled the endless nights of embarrassment and shame on his wedding night and all of the nights that followed. His impotence, the nausea which overcame him when he espied his bride's hairy snatch; and worst of all were the little bugs which migrated from her thatch to his beard, tormenting him to no end.

It was enough to, and did, turn him "gay."

Jules loved the "old" Mo, the swarthy Islamic casino cheat and internet braggart who'd swept him off of his chair in the high limit room and into his bed; but now Mo was taking shots to become a woman?

Huh, does not compute...why would a gay man be attracted to a once-man who is now changing into a woman?

Jules concluded to himself that "I'm gay; when Mo trans-es to a woman then I better be a woman too...a lesbian!"

Without any further ado Mo handed the syringe to Jules who blithely injected it.

"To infinity...and beyond!"

[pinchingyourballs]

Mary-Helen overheard the exchange and prayed to Vishnu Uncle Jules would come to his senses. The last thing she needed was for the kids at Sunday school to make fun of her for having two trans lesbian aunts. They already made fun of her plenty on account of her last name, Farton, which lent itself to such clever jeers as "Come fart on my face, Mary-Helen!"

Then there was the pressing matter of Madame V.'s arrival in town for a book signing. Mary-Helen was giddy with excitement that tomorrow morning Madame V. would be making a brief appearance for a meet and greet with fans, but first she needed to prepare a special surprise for her favorite author, one that was sure get her name on the 5 o'clock news.

[MisterV]

The moment of the meet 'n greet had finally arrived: as always it occurred at the nearby Church's Chicken.

Madame V. groaned as she signed yet another copy of her best selling tome: "Shittin' Chicken."

As her fame was based on her most famous character shitting on the floor at Church's Chicken, the store owners hired beefy bodyguards to make certain nobody dropped trou (and a pant load) during the book signing: "ounce of prevention, pound of shit" as they say.

An autistic black woman who resembled the Huxstable character on the Cosby Show was next in line; she stepped up to the author and smiling, said " 'dis be fo' you..." as she projectile vomited all over Madame V.

When finished, the puker said "Der be chicken shittin; and now der be poultry pukin;"

YouTubers caught it on camera and it immediately went viral; a new Tik Tok challenge was born wherein the winner was the one whose puke traveled the furthest distance.

[MisterV]

Mammie was PISSED.

"Girl, why you puke onna couch? Dat couch be made a cloths, how's it gonna get cleaned? Wha, you t'ink da cleanin' fairy gonna do it?"

"Now mammie, let I and I's t'ink 'bout dat" said Karen while she squatted over the kitchen floor.

Having dropped a pile of turds Karen felt better; she told her long-suffering, enabling mother "I and I knows...we puts outs a "Go funds me" askin' fo' rep-rations fo' bein' borned black in 'Merica, dat's wha' makes me shits de flo' and puke de couch, bein' borned black in 'Merica."

"I dunno" said mammie as she grabbed the mop, "I t'ought you does it 'cause you be orn-rey and autistical, 'dat be what dem docs said when you be a chile."

"No, mammie, it be dem white devils what did it..."

With that she fired up her trusty PC and created the plea that would soon cause her a day of infamy the likes of which had not been seen since December, 1941.

[pinchingyourballs]

Little did Mammie know that there indeed were such things as cleaning fairies, and that the wee sprites were more than capable of cleaning puke off a cloth covered couch. One such fairy's name Rdtz, a name unpronounceable in human language, but in Fairy-ese pronounced something like a chicken clucking the word "retard." Rdtz the cleaning fairy was hanging out outside the window when he espied Karen making a mess of her and her Mammie's home. "Disgusting," he muttered to himeself, "but captivating nonetheless." After some deliberation, he decided to sneak into their Section 8 apartment at night and leave them a little cleaning surprise, and a little extra surprise.

After Karen and her Mammie fell asleep on their cots, Rdtz got to work waiving his magic wand over the puke and shit and sending it thru an interdimensional portal where talking giraffes used Bingo magic to turn the puke and shit into casino chips. When the place looked decent, he fluttered over to where Karen was sleeping, took out his other wand (magical in its own way), and jizzed all over Karen, practically cocooning her in baby batter.

A terrible surprise awaited Karen in the morning.

[MisterV]

Karen took the city bus to her local casino, intent on finally getting that all-elusive first handpay.

"I and I deserves it" she fulminated while dreaming how different her life will be when she hits The Big One.

She arrived and while flogging a slot machine a suit and two armed guards surrounded her: "Come with us."

Backroomed...what she most dreaded was happening.

"Why's you puts me in 'dis back room? What has I and I done wrong?"

"Multi-carding. Begging players for money. Vulturing. And that's just for starters."

"But my casino frien's, dey all does 'dat...I and I studied up on it at VCT and WoV so it should all be good...wha's de problem?"

"We don't like it, and we don't like YOU!"

With that she was tied to the whipping post; Judge V. entered, wearing only a speedo, brandishing a stiffy as well as a cat o nine tails: "Is this the one?" he queried.

"Yes your honor, this one is expendable, have at it."

"Thanks guys, you've no idea how much this means to me. Running this clip joint for the tribe til they learn how to do it themselves has really paid me and my "associates" real dividends."

Without further ado he whipped Karen without mercy, stopping only when his arm was too tired to lift.

"OK boys, clean this mess up and when you're done send that new coat check girl to my office for "private instruction:" I feel the need to spew seed."

After Judge V. and his minions left a bright light flashed briefly in the back room and *POOF* Rdtz appeared, going "tsk tsk tsk, this will never do..."

Applying cleaning fairy magic he removed all the blood and gore then focused on the corpse of Karen: he reanimated her, healed her wounds and then untied her and whisked her back home to her mammie, depositing her on the kitchen floor.

Much like Pavlov's dog this caused a predictable response, which in turn led to mammie groaning "Where be my mop?"

[theywontpayontuesday]

I picture this all published and left at laundromats to get people's reaction. Someone reading it without knowing it was different people authoring the story. They would probably think it was a lunatic who wrote it and never know there was more than one.