Decided I will no longer be paying taxes. What are they gonna do, tax me more? Go ahead.
I wont pay those either
Oh im going to prison?
The one paid for by my tax dollars?
Sorry. Didn't pay em. Now there is no prison.
I am at least 3 steps ahead of the government at all times.
I used to be a real ad
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Daddy’s little tidepod
i'm daddies wittle tide pod hehe (ꈍ꒳ꈍ)i'm all squishy and wet for daddy! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ he loves how my bitter taste nuzzles his taste buds and my Botanical Raintm scent!!!! (。・ω・。)but he knows how im not meant to be eaten...(´･ω･`)waaah!!! dont eat all of me daddy( ；∀；) hehehe my soap-pussy is so wet >///< 1 lick 2 lick 3 lick 4... no more daddy i'll break~(●///▽///●) hehe i'm daddies wittle tide pod so wet and squishy =w=
UwU
NSFW
Pepechrist emote
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Pepe
CTRL+C CTRL+V ENTER
twitchquotes:
You idly watching the stream, mindlessly wasting yet another evening. You notice 4+ length message in the chat. Grabbing the mouse, hovering over, scrolling up. Reading the message and realizing the pasta has no meaning at all. CTRL+C CTRL+V ENTER. You are retarded.
twitch chat
Classic
Lord Microsoft
10:43 PM, Microsoft Tower, Washington.
A figure stands in shadow, red lights from the theistic ceiling flood the spacious hall. Along the sides, hallmark pieces of technology are proudly displayed on golden pedestals. The Xbox, Windows, Hololens; At the center of it all, the vaccine.
"Microsoft Microbe Covid-19" the label on the syringe reads. A glowing substance can be seen sitting still inside.
Monitors flicker to life at the end of the hall, each one showing the point of view of an innocent civilian. The light draws a silhouette of a man. His body, frail. His skin is leathery and rugged. Breathing apparatus cover his face, a cold green mist slowly spewing out.
The grand door opens, humanoids armed with weapons drag an unkempt and furious man towards the being in shadow. They throw him to the floor, spit slathering the ground.
"This is the last one?" the figure asks.
"Yes, Lord Microsoft. all 4,607,423,673 other citizens have been accounted for."
The rugged man looks upwards, his face bloodied and bruised. His eyes meet Lord Microsoft's. Puffed from tears, his eyes can only show one emotion: anger.
"Bill Gates, you piece of shit. I swore to Samantha that if I ever-"
"Silence, creature!" Lord Microsoft slaps him with the back of his hand. "I am lord Microsoft, and you will refer to me as such!"
The guards grab the man, hoisting him up.
"Now, let us delay no further. It has taken me years to get to this point, and I will not have my victory denied!" Lord Microsoft grabs the vaccine and primes it for injection.
"Such a small thing, isn't it? Yet, it has afforded me the right to dominate all life on Earth. Covid was a blessing, not a curse."
The man's eyes widened, he screams in retaliation, but the guards shut his mouth with force. Lord Microsoft pierces his flesh with the needle. A flourescent orange liquid can be seen coursing through his veins. He falls to the floor, his muscles tightening and constricting in unnatural fashion. His eyes bulge from his skull and he shouts in pain.
He slumps over, and in only a moment he comes back to his feet. His pupils dilated and his skin, pale.
"How may I serve you, my lord."
COVID
Coronavirus
Infinite Cum
Infinite cum. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.