XTOWN—It turns out that my Skinwalker Mesa drone team is the gift that keeps on giving.
I have already revealed some of the sordid kibbles and bits of The Footage—but things have turned a little steamy of late with the arrival of war criminal Lora Looner back onto the scene, loaded and ready to rock.
She comes drifting down the dark hall in full fembot, all black leather spikes and studs, trailing her cat-o-nines. “Well hello bigboy,” she sneers.
“Get in here,” Rump jabbers. “Don’t let the robots see U—they have fembot issues.”
“Oo bad robots—I’m so skeert—protek me daddy.”
“Cmere U.”
“ I will give orders!” the degenerate dombot snaps. “Present globes!”
“Yes mommy,” and the sickening orange blob hoists what passes for a haunch, there to reveal the awful shining vortex of his bunghole cartilage, now studded with the horrified visages of the recently absorbed.
“They are too pale,” Looner noses. “U need to eat more dark meat—U look like a pale mushroom ghost and yr globage is fungal—we will bring color into yr cheesy cheeks with this—” and she hoists the cat-o-nine and begins her assault.
“Pale cheeks bad—rosy cheeks good,” she croons in demented rhythm of slappage. “Badboy need spanking.”
“Oo I am sooo bad,” the hideous blob croons.
“Piggie—(smak)—U been porkin that Margarine Trailer Goonbotch haventcha.”
“She made my cheeks shiny for awhile but she is lunchmeat compared to U Loonie—she is so last year,” Rump gloobs.
“Of course she is—(smak)—oo—now yr little cheekies are on fire.”
“Oo I feel something—put it out—”
And with that the Loonbot unleashes her Moscow shower with a little side of dung onto the quivering blobulence of Rump.
And while the footage is far too disgusting for public consumption, the audio has been deemed barely acceptable and the link is below—though why any sane individual not in the service of The News would want to scar themselves with such utter demonology is certainly a valid question.
You have been warned.
In sickened service,
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