Star Gunt

[Rikk]

Yesterday, WARHAM, BRETT, me and some of the others were posting some lovely Star Wars jokes concerning gunts.

Here are some of mine and a few others, lovingly compiled in this thread. I am very proud.


PETE: (sighing) The Webbies. How am I ever going to explain this?

FLAB: Learn about my gunt, PETE.

PETE: Look, I can take you as far as a single orgasm. You can get a transport then to Florida or wherever we meet.

FLAB: You must do what you feel makes you hard, of course.

[Rikk]

FLAB: I find your lack of girth disturbing.

PETE: Enough of this! Gunt, get off me! I can't breathe!

FLAB: As you wish.

PETE: This bickering is pointless. My cock will provide us with the location of your gunt underneath all that fat by the time my erection is operational. You will then crush my spine with one swift stroke.

[Rikk]

This one is WARHAM's!


[a saggy-hootered creature gives Rikk a rough shove]
Flab: [explaining] He doesn't like you.
Rikk: I'm sorry.
Flab: I don't like you either. You just watch yourself. We're wanted drunks. I have the banned sentence on twelve websites!
Rikk: I'll be careful.
Flab: You'll be IM'ed!
Bueno Bob: [intervening] This popular one's not worth the effort. Now come, let me get you into a mental institution.
[Flab bounces Rikk across the room with her saggy hooters and reveals herself to be a GUNT]
Warham: No GUNTS! No GUNTS!
[In a flash, Flab and it's alien companion Pete are on the floor: a slashed GUNT and a severed hairy-palmed hand respectively.]

[Rikk]

FLAB: FLAB GUNT. I'm head patient of the Southern California Internet Mental Ward. My other personality here tells me you're looking for a good time.

PETE: Yes, indeed. If it's a fast cyber with no need to respect you.

FLAB: Fast cyber? You've never heard of the FLABBY GUNT?

PETE: Should I have?

FLAB: I'm the gunt that can make drunk losers that haven't gotten laid in months cumm within twelve seconds! I've outrun Rotharmy Webbies; not the local forum mods, mind you. I'm talking about the big Webbies that give out IP information. I'm fast enough for you and demand no respect, drunk man. What's the baggage?

PETE: Only alcoholism and bad songwriting. Myself, an imaginary boy in my head, two minutes, and no IMs posted later.

FLAB: What is it? Some kind of local trouble?

PETE: Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Webbie entanglements after I was de-modded some months back.

FLAB: Well, that's the trick, isn't it? And it's going to cost you something extra. Smelly gunt, all in your face.

PETE: Smelly gunt? I could get hard by just pulling my cock out and letting it fly in the wind!

FLAB: But who's going to touch it, kid! You?

[Rikk]

Another of WARHAM's!


GUNT: PETE: Months ago, you served the Roth Army as a moderator; now that you've been demodded and defrocked, I need your help in my struggle against the Army. I regret that I am unable to present this request to you in person since I have been banned; my IP has fallen under attack and I'm afraid my mission to destroy the Army with my Flabby ID has failed. I've placed fraudulent IM's vital to the survival of the rebellion into the memory systems of my Commodore 64. One of my many, many cyber partners will know how to retrieve it. You must see this information safely delivered to those at DDLR and other 3rd rate Roth websites. This is my most flabby hour. Help me, little Pete; you're my only hope.

[Rikk]

PETE: Not a bad bit of cybering, huh? You know, sometimes I even amaze myself.

FLAB: That doesn't sound too hard. My gut tickled my clit. It's the only explanation for the ease of my orgasm.

PETE: Easy...you call that easy?

FLAB: Have you seen the size of my gunt compared to your dick?

PETE: Not this dick, sister.

FLAB: Why are you calling me sister?

PETE: I like to think of the women I'm cybering with as my sister.

FLAB: At least the information in my stomach is still intact.

PETE: What's so important? What're you carrying?

FLAB: The entire twinkie production line of 2004 for California and Arizona. I only hope that when I finally take a shit, my heart doesn't explode and I can continue to pleasure you through IMs. It's not over yet!

PETE: It is for me, sister! Look, I ain't in this for your massive stomach, and I'm not in it for your needs. I expect to be well pleasured. I'm in it for your gunt!

FLAB: You needn't worry about my gunt. If a vagina that stinks like aged sweat socks is all that you love, then that's what you'll receive!

(RIKK walks into the room, holding his nose.)

FLAB: (to RIKK) Your friend is quite desperate. I wonder if he really has any standards for gunts...or people.

RIKK: I care! Your gunt smells like my cat's litterbox if someone didn't change it for a week.

(RIKK, shaking his head, sits down. He and PETE stare out at the vast blackness of FLAB's pussy.)

RIKK: So...what do you think of her, PETE?

PETE: I love her!

RIKK: (under his breath) God...

PETE: Still, she's got a lot of stench. I don't know, what do you
think? Do you think a fat divorcee and a guy like me...

RIKK: Yes!

(PETE smiles and logs on...)

[Rikk]

This one if my personal favorite. I am truly proud of this one.


FLAB: My cunt is heavily shielded with flabby fat and my ass carries a firepower greater than half the U.S. Army. It's defenses are designed around a direct large-scale diet. A small one-inch cock should be able to penetrate the outer defense.

PETE: (Pointing at FLAB's gunt) Pardon me for asking, Lisa, but what good is my tiny one-inch going to be against that?

FLAB: Well, my stomach doesn't consider a small one-inch penis to be any threat, or my stretch marks would provide a tighter defense. An analysis of my gunt provided by Southern California Health Services has demonstrated a further weakness in my anal cavity. The approach will not be easy. You are required to maneuver straight down this trench and skim the surface to this point (points at her gunt). The target area is only two meters wide. It's a gigantic dilhole complete with a clit that has 15,000 men's saliva on it, right below the 13-inch belly button. The shaft leads directly to the largest uterus ever created. A precise hit of whiskey-poisoned cumm will start a chain reaction which should destroy Southern California.

(A murmer of disbelief runs through the room.)

FLAB: Only a one-inch cock will be able to penetrate and set up a chain reaction. The shaft is fat-shielded, so you'll have to put all your out-of-shape weight behind it.

BRETT: That's impossible, even for PETE.

PETE: It's not impossible. I used to bull's-eye my fat sister in my garage back home. Her gunt's not much bigger than two meters.

FLAB: Then man your one-inch! And may your noseplug be with you!

[Rikk]

NICK did this one...


PETE: I can't do it FAB! I just can't give you an orgasm!

FAB1169: Can't is only a state of mind my young GUNTi apprentice, for you must let go and trust your feelings PETE!

PETE: But I've had too much too drink! My penis is helplessly flaccid! **sigh**

FAB1169: Oh my. For it is like a second belly button as it sits there in all its whiskey dick impotence!

Here let me help you...

PETE: OH! FAB, what are you doing!

FAB1169: Trust your feelings, for the GUNTi have many mystical powers to help you get a stiffy...Trust your feelings PETE.

PETE: FAB! Uh, why are you sticking your finger up my ass?

FAB1169: For in your stinky bung-hole lies your sphincter...Here, I'll shall use my GUNTi powers to engorge you PETE!

PETE: ARRRRGGGGHHHH-OHHHHH!!!

FAB1169: Oh PETE, mount me like your dog does your leg!

PETE: YEOHHHH-ERRR-ARRRAAGGHHHH!

FAB1169: PETE, aim for the spot beneath my GUNT! C'mon PETE. Use your three-inch light sabre!

...PETE, you have taken a step to a larger pussy-whipped GUNTi conciousness!

PETE: ARRGGGHHHH!...

[Rikk]

Another of mine.


PETE: Well your guntship, looks like you managed to keep me away for a little while longer.

FLAB: (haughtily) I had nothing to do with it. The Surgeon General thinks it's dangerous for any men to go near me until they've activated the energy shield around my mass-sucking black hole of a gunt.

PETE: That's a good story. I think you just can't bear to let a
sad drunk like me out of your sight.

FLAB: How could you be in my sight? I can't see over my gut and you're very short. It's obvious where your high-pitched voice comes from. Anyway, I don't know where you get your cyber drive, whiskey brain.

(MAX, watching PETE and the black hole duke it out, is amused, yet disgusted at the same time; he laughs in his manner, protected by the gas mask given to him by the Webbies. PETE, enjoying himself, regards MAX good-humoredly.)

PETE: Laugh it up, OU812MAX ex-Linker. But you didn't see us alone in her giant ass. She expressed her true feelings for me when she passed gas and released from her fudge-tunnel.

(FLAB is flushed, further angry that GUITAR SHARK and RIKK still expect her to pay the $100, eyes darting between her own gut blocking her face and her double-chin, squished over her nose.)

FLAB: My...! Why, you stuck up,...half-witted,...scruffy-looking...alcoholic...IM-herder!

PETE: Who's alcoholic? (he hiccups and trips on four whiskey bottles laid out in front of his three-foot stature) I must have hit her pretty close to the mark to get her all riled up like that, huh, MAX? Though it's not exactly hard to hit her pretty close to the mark, considering she weighs 750 lbs. and is large enough to keep a shitload of saved IMs from Rotharmy, DDLR, Links and Tormented VH Fans posters in a 500 Gig hard drive in her giant asshole.

FLAB: Why, I guess you don't know everything about gunts yet?

(With that she leans over and kisses MAX on the lips. Then she turns on her heel and slithers out, as MAX runs to the nearest washroom and regurgitates before looking in the mirror and seeing that his mouth is green. He pulls out his handgun, the ownership of which is his constitutional right, and puts a bullet in his brain. PETE is satisfied...no more competition and plenty of gunt for his 75 lbs. to enjoy.)

[Rikk]

Another of mine.



INTERIOR: BRETT'S HOUSE.

BRETT: MAX...we have a visitor.

(The group hurries over to BRETT's window and hears a sucking sound coming from outside.)

BRETT: We've picked up something gigantic outside the base in zone twelve, moving east. Could be another fat black hole.

NICK: It's fat.

MAX: It could be a poster, one of ours.

NICK: No. Wait -- there's something very weak coming through.

(GUITAR SHARK steps up to the control panel and listens intently to the strange sucking noise.)

GUITAR SHARK: Sir, I am familiar with six million forms of pussy. This sound is not used by humanity as we know it. It could be FLAB's gunt.

(The sucking noise ends as the frightened party put on gasmasks.)

MAX: It isn't friendly, whatever it is. Come on, POOP BOY, let's check it out.

BRETT: Send paramedics armed with horse tranquilizers to station three-eight.

EXTERIOR: SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA -- DAY

(The massive 750 lb. gunt moves past the smoldering ruins of her marriage and down a ridge toward the next music forum she's going to try and destroy. It raises a large pube from the top of its fatty base and begins to send out a piercing signal, fresh secretion from its latest encounter with PETE covering the lawn. The gunt has spotted POOP BOY who, not fifty feet away, is standing right next to her and staring at her over one of her piles of fat. Instantly, the gunt swings around, its deadly vaginal secreters ready to fire. But before it can get a squirt off, it is hit from behind by MAX's Utah shotgun, and explodes in a million giant chunks of fat and gunt. One of those chunks squares MAX and breaks two of his ribs. He falls forward, groaning, "Oh, stupid gunt!" MAX gets up his and peers intently at the smoldering remains of FLABULOUS SHADOW.)

INTERIOR: BRETT'S HOUSE.

(NICK and BRETT listen to MAX on the comlink.)

MAX: (over comlink) Afraid there's not much left.

NICK: (into comlink) What was it?

MAX: (over comlink) Gunt of some kind. Biggest fucking thing I ever saw. Said it was going to New York next to impersonate a 12-year-old, though the way it looked, it looked more likely to impersonate an aircraft carrier.

NICK: (into comlink) A fat hairy gunt.

MAX: (over comlink) It's a good bet Southern California's gonna experience a major earthquake.

BRETT: We'd better start the evacuation.

[Rikk]

PETE: Look, I'm sure it's delicious. I just don't understand why I can't skip chowing down on your gunt and just fuck you.

FLAB: Patience! For the strong-stomached, it is time to eat as well. Eat, eat. Hot. Good food, hm? Good, hmm?

(Moving with ease in the gigantic gunt, PETE sits down on a pubic hair and serves himself from a puddle of secretion. Tasting the unfamiliar concoction, he is pleasantly surprised.)

PETE: How far away is the left side of your body? Will it take me long to get there?

FLAB: Very far. Left side very far. Patience. Soon you will be there, 3 miles away. (tasting her own gunt) Syphillus, I have. Why wish you become mod again? Hm?

PETE: Mostly because of RIKK, I guess. I want to prove to him that I'm a better man.

FLAB: Ah, RIKK. Powerful cyber-lover was he, powerful cyber-lover, mmm.

PETE: (a little hurt) Oh, come on. How could you say that about RIKK? You don't even know what I have to offer. (fed up, spits out secretion) Oh, I don't even know what I'm doing here. We're wasting our time.

(The fat creature turns away from PETE and speaks to a third party...its anus.)

FLAB: (irritated) I cannot fuck him. The loser has no patience.

(PETE's head spins in the direction the creature's left cheek faces. But there is no one there...only a giant, gaping vacuum that could suck in a tall building and ask for seconds before defacating a shopping mall. PETE is bewildered, but it gradually dawns on him that his dick is tiny and that he is speaking to his next big chance: FLAB's anus.)

GIANT ANUS: He will learn patience. Bring him to me.

FLAB: (speaking to her own anus) Fuck that. Hmmm. Much anger in him, like the Webbie that canned his pathetic ass.

GIANT ANUS: Was I any different when you first shoved three boy scouts in my cavity?

FLAB: Hah. He is not ready.

PETE: Gunt! I am ready. I...Anus! I can fuck you both and eat out my sloppy seconds. Anus, tell him I'm ready.

FLAB: Ready, are you? What know you of ready? For eight hundred years have I stunk worse than a stadium full of rotten manure. My own counsel will I keep on who is to shove a one-inch dick in my dillhole! A loser or cyber-partner must have the deepest commitment, the most deranged mind. (to the massive anus, indicating PETE) This one a long time have I watched, though it was hard seeing this one since this one is only two feet tall and I can't see anything over my gigantic 72nd fold of fat. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing. Hmph. Because he was always drunk. One-inch cock fucking. Heh! Gizzing inside a black hole huger than Asia and Europe put together. Heh! A mod craves not these things. (turning to PETE) You are dickless!

(PETE looks down. He knows it is true.)

ANUS: So was I, if you'll remember. I crushed those boyscouts into brown mucus before releasing them from my fudge tunnel.

FLAB: He is too old. Yes, way way way way way way way way way way way way way too old and drunk and stoned to begin the gunt-penetrating. Plus, he'll probably tell me within minutes that he loves me.

PETE: But I haven't had a drink in two hours, just for this!

FLAB: (sighs) Will he finished what he begins? Even with the smell the way it is?

PETE: I won't fail you -- I know it stinks, but I'm not afraid.

FLAB: (turns slowly toward him, looks down, pulls out a gasmask and slowly opens its legs again) Oh, you will be. You will be.

(PETE begins to get dizzy and collapses.)

[Sarge's Little Helper]

PETE: Look, I'm sure it's delicious. I just don't understand why I can't skip chowing down on your gunt and just fuck you.

FLAB: Patience! For the strong-stomached, it is time to eat as well. Eat, eat. Hot. Good food, hm? Good, hmm?

(Moving with ease in the gigantic gunt, PETE sits down on a pubic hair and serves himself from a puddle of secretion. Tasting the unfamiliar concoction, he is pleasantly surprised.)

PETE: How far away is the left side of your body? Will it take me long to get there?

FLAB: Very far. Left side very far. Patience. Soon you will be there, 3 miles away. (tasting her own gunt) Syphillus, I have. Why wish you become mod again? Hm?

PETE: Mostly because of RIKK, I guess. I want to prove to him that I'm a better man.

FLAB: Ah, RIKK. Powerful cyber-lover was he, powerful cyber-lover, mmm.

PETE: (a little hurt) Oh, come on. How could you say that about RIKK? You don't even know what I have to offer. (fed up, spits out secretion) Oh, I don't even know what I'm doing here. We're wasting our time.

(The fat creature turns away from PETE and speaks to a third party...its anus.)

FLAB: (irritated) I cannot fuck him. The loser has no patience.

(PETE's head spins in the direction the creature's left cheek faces. But there is no one there...only a giant, gaping vacuum that could suck in a tall building and ask for seconds before defacating a shopping mall. PETE is bewildered, but it gradually dawns on him that his dick is tiny and that he is speaking to his next big chance: FLAB's anus.)

GIANT ANUS: He will learn patience. Bring him to me.

FLAB: (speaking to her own anus) Fuck that. Hmmm. Much anger in him, like the Webbie that canned his pathetic ass.

GIANT ANUS: Was I any different when you first shoved three boy scouts in my cavity?

FLAB: Hah. He is not ready.

PETE: Gunt! I am ready. I...Anus! I can fuck you both and eat out my sloppy seconds. Anus, tell him I'm ready.

FLAB: Ready, are you? What know you of ready? For eight hundred years have I stunk worse than a stadium full of rotten manure. My own counsel will I keep on who is to shove a one-inch dick in my dillhole! A loser or cyber-partner must have the deepest commitment, the most deranged mind. (to the massive anus, indicating PETE) This one a long time have I watched, though it was hard seeing this one since this one is only two feet tall and I can't see anything over my gigantic 72nd fold of fat. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing. Hmph. Because he was always drunk. One-inch cock fucking. Heh! Gizzing inside a black hole huger than Asia and Europe put together. Heh! A mod craves not these things. (turning to PETE) You are dickless!

(PETE looks down. He knows it is true.)

ANUS: So was I, if you'll remember. I crushed those boyscouts into brown mucus before releasing them from my fudge tunnel.

FLAB: He is too old. Yes, way way way way way way way way way way way way way too old and drunk and stoned to begin the gunt-penetrating. Plus, he'll probably tell me within minutes that he loves me.

PETE: But I haven't had a drink in two hours, just for this!

FLAB: (sighs) Will he finished what he begins? Even with the smell the way it is?

PETE: I won't fail you -- I know it stinks, but I'm not afraid.

FLAB: (turns slowly toward him, looks down, pulls out a gasmask and slowly opens its legs again) Oh, you will be. You will be.

(PETE begins to get dizzy and collapses.)

Oops. I wasn't paying attention. Tell me again what is going on.

[Rikk]

(PETE rushes to the edge of FLAB's massive and grotesque mass. He concentrates and attempts to get his one-inch to penetrate the sea of flab and oozing sweat and mucus. Suddenly, his dick sinks and lands in FLAB's sea of goo, sinking until only his tiny waste is preventing him from being sucked in.)

PETE: (staring into the ocean of fat) Oh, no. We'll never get it out now.

(FLAB shakes a 4 lb. nipple in irritation.)

FLAB: So certain are you. Always with you it cannot be done. Hear you nothing that I say?

(PETE looks uncertainly out at his one-inch cock sinking into the 600 lb. lake of fat.)

PETE: Master, fucking your fat layers and pulling my dick out with the help of a couple of my friends is one thing. This is totally different because there's no one here to help. You are just so fat. If my sister were talking to me still, she'd be pretty ashamed.

FLAB: No! No different! Only different in your mind. You must unlearn what you have learned. You must unsmell what you have smelled.

PETE: (focusing, drinking from the bottle of whiskey he had left by his feet) All right, I'll give it a try.

FLAB: No! Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.

(PETE closes his eyes and concentrates on pulling his cock out of the most massive and smelly gunt in the universe. He uses the force with all his might to pull all 0.07 ounces out of FAB's black hole of puss. Slowly, the penis begins to rise above the quicksand. It hovers for a moment and then slides back, disappearing once again.)

PETE: (panting heavily) I can't. You're too fat.

FLAB: Gunt size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hm? Mmmm.

PETE: Actually, the guys at the Army were saying you're a fat fucking gun...

FLAB: Shut up! You should not. For my ally is the Mandarin seafood buffet. And a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Makes me grow. It's energy surrounds me and binds me and gives me more layers. Luminous being am I...(FLAB pinches PETE's fragile shoulder)...not this crude matter. (a sweeping gesture) You must feel my gunt around you. (gesturing) Here, between you...me...(points quite a distance) my left nipple...(another long distance) my feet...everywhere! Yes, even between this gunt and your cock!

PETE: (discouraged) You want the impossible.

[bueno bob]

PETE: (Kneeling on a pedestal) "What is Thy bidding, my Guntress?"

FLAB: "There is a great disturbance in my Gunt."

PETE: "I have felt it."

FLAB: "We have a new enemy - Rikk and his friends."

PETE: "Yes, my Guntress."

FLAB: "They could ban us."

PETE: "We have his IM's. The Army will no longer support them."

FLAB: "The Force is strong with my Gunt. The Roth Army Forums must fear the power of my Gunt."

PETE: "If we could edit the IMs, the Roth Army would become a powerful ally."

FLAB: "Yes. Yes. My Gunt would be a great asset. Can it be done?"

FLAB: "We will edit or be banned, my Guntress."

[bueno bob]

PETE: "Look, I'm sure your Gunt is delicious. I just don't understand why we can't cyber now."

FLAB: "Patience! For Flab, it is time to eat Gunt as well. Eat, eat.
Hot. Good Gunt, hmm? Good, hmm?"

PETE: "How far away is your Gunt? Will it take us long to get there?"

FLAB: "Not far. My Gunt not far. Patience. Soon you will be with it.
Rootgunt, I cook. Why wish you alcohol? Hmm?"

PETE: "Mostly because of my sister, I guess."

FLAB: "Ah, your sister. Powerful Gunt was she, powerful Gunt, mmm."

PETE: "Oh, come on. How could you know my sister? You don't even know how much I wanna love you! Oh, I don't even know what I'm doing here. We're wasting our time when we should be at the bar!"

FLAB: "I cannot teach him to properly lick my Gunt. The boy has no patience."

BOB'S VOICE: "He will learn patience."

FLAB: "Hmmm. Much anger in him, like his sister."

BOB'S VOICE: "Was his mother any different when she saw your Gunt?"

FLAB: "Hah. He is not ready."

PETE: "Fab! I am ready. I...Bueno! I can lick the Gunt! Bob, tell her I'm ready."

FLAB: "Ready, are you? What know you of ready? For eight hundred years have I trained people to nurture my Gunt. My own counsel will I keep on who is to be trained! An alcoholic must have the deepest commitment, the most unserious mind. This one a long time
have I watched. Never his mind on sobriety. Hmm? Keeping himself there. Hmph. Attention whoring. Heh! Argument starting. Heh! A Gunt Disciple craves these things! You are reckless!"

BOBS VOICE: "So was Pete's sister, if you'll remember."

FLAB: "He is too old. Yes, too old to begin the training to worship my Gunt."

PETE: "But I've learned so much about your Gunt."

FLAB: "Will he finished what he begins with my Gunt?"

PETE: "I won't fail you -- I'm not afraid of your Gunt!"

FLAB: "Oh! You will be. You will be..."