The Abyss of Radical Stupidity by R.K. Galvez (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

...Paige can really handle a sore cock well, too. Handy to know that. She got a lot of my fantasies out of my system during that one time - I reckon she was just out of it on whatever and needed to go a bit buckwild. She's still using that skill on the web, as I've checked her sites recently....I've seen her testing out some huge dildos - there's even one similar to the one she plunged up my sore butt during that session...

...I gave her a good fisting later on, she was gushing for it, but I got the feeling that must've been her idea too. She likes to plant the idea in your head and make you think you had the idea, though she was pulling the strings all along...

...And I'm all for deep pen, but we always end up running out of lube - we go throgh loads of it. I'm struggling to remember it, but eager to be reminded. Seeing Paige makes me think about it a lot more. You know how busy us law enforcers can get? You know it's not all about getting your shares in order, it's the whole lifestyle thing. But I just came here to perve over Paige and confirm my theory. I know everything else and I've got my own investigation to run. Iron Ass will be mine....

 ...I asked her if she called to tell me her story... 

"What yo' wanna hear, hun?" she murmured as she chuffed on her crystalline pipe.

...She stared at me, a really intense stare - I'll never forget it. Those supernatural penetrating eyes. She told me about herself, but it was really broken up and confused. She laughed when she couldn't remember something and just shrugged. but through all that confusion and jumbled up bits and all, she told it like it was some childish story. It wasn't illustrated by Korky Paul, though likely to be more inspired by Betty Rocksteady (Ye gods! What an amazing artist-author!); but I felt it should've been...

...I didn't like the emotional out-pouring, as Von Howzen seemed to be reaching out to me and at the same time pushing me away. Maybe she was testing if I really cared about her, or if I was some washed out hack for shitty local paper just looking for a cheap sensational story for the hour. But I knew this before I met her: she had successfully killed her all pimps and had assumed control and delegated control of humane brothels all over the world...

...Von told me that she was now hunting a demonic prostitute killer. He was evading her, and was trying to pick off more amateurish sex workers. I tried to get to know as many sex workers as possible in this period of time to connect with Von. The guy fucking up all the pros was called Moby Dickie. He was a sick fucker. His cock was a huge white beast, hence Moby Dickie. Though most of the time he could hardly get up as it was so fat and flabby. He must have lots of surgery on it to. But he would sometimes beat the girls with his fat cock...

...I'm telling you people, this guy would penetrate every orifice with something, usually food. He would get vegetables, bits of meat. He raped prostitutes in food and licked it off them, biting into them, before punching and probing to such an extent he leaves a battered bloody pulp of a woman behind. She was under to work, barely lucky to be alive but at what cost? He never paid. He just took. He had even done it to a few rent boys too. They had paid an ex-bouncer, called Konkie , to try and find this guy as well. I heard, and this isn't a fact, that Konkie got hurt by him, though Konkie did escape Moby Dickie’s torture. Moby likes big guys, too...

...Von Howzen heard about it all from Peggy May, a dizzy High end perma-tanned lass, who is well known for her insatiable crack habit - around four hundred a day; suppose that’s just an a few hours’ work, but she had a heart of gold and she would even give you the odd hug. She was a lovely chick and was in a real trap. According to Peggy May, she had heard Monkie rescuing another whore called Monika. She was pulped but Monkie had disturbed Moby Dickie when he was about to unleash his cunt bite sport fuck session...

...He was a really sick fuckup, and Monkie had punched out some of Moby Dickie's teeth, but Moby Dickie had a knife and threw it at Monkie's neck, just missing his carotid artery. Monkie somehow managed to drag Monika away and get out of there. He passed out in the cab with Monika and was arrested with her, caked in his own blood. He is about to be released on bail, even though he still needs minor medical attention. Monkki knows he remains lucky to be alive. And a he’s paying off a massive cab bill for pissing blood everywhere....

...I watched Von smile and hug Peggy May, like any lesbian lovers would, and then on the sly, also left her five twenties for her time. Just five notes, what a cheek. Von knew it wouldn't last long for Peggy May...

...I asked Von if her sources were as good as mine. She passed me some fine Maroc to smoke, then handed me a jiffy bag full of tiny envelope wraps; apparently, inside each wrap was pure heroin - some of this vile narcotic was possibly cut with Fentanyl. Deadman territory. We all hear of the nightdoings... I could tell she was going global. I was hoping to add to this powder. And she was doing this all out of the goodness of heart. She wanted to make the whole thing, if people are forced to go into this hellish industry, then at least she could protect then. Von didn't want to relive her past, she wanted a better future. The fucking cool thing was she wasn't some moonlighting bouncer; she had Moby Dickie scared. He didn’t like it when they hit back. She had already beat the shit out of him at a pub in Harrow. It was too easy. He was with a Miley Cyrus lookalike; under the bar, his podgy finger and thumb penetrated her small, shaven, cunt. His soiled middle finger was sliding towards her nubile anus, ponderously probing deeper...The Miley Cyrus lookalike did not seem too bothered - probably thought it was a usual punter...She was hoping for unrefined highs and the real deal...The Miley Cyrus lookalike reminded Von of someone...

...Von appeared, staked Moby Dickie out, then as he was about to get her, Von tried to scare him again, and lost it for a bit and battered him with a crowbar. It was slick. Von hardly broke a sweat. But Moby Dick was getting annoyed. Moby Dickie was in hospital and off the streets. He hadn't killed a prossie for three weeks now. He needed to eat so to speak. To him this was part of his survival. Von Howzen, during this time off the street, was still checking up on the other prossies and checking on Moby Dickie, while he was in hospital...

...Von really wanted to get into this mean motherfucker's head but he was so fucking freaky he was fucking loads of people up and the cops had cooled off on trying to attach him to his sordid crimes. He was just a random event and told people to take care. It remains lucky a thing for Moby Dickie that he was not driving a cab, but Von had narrowed his location down; he was trying to hide in a small village called Nutcough Hills... 

 ...This was seen as a bad day upon post-apocalyptic Trelficloco. It was a dour world – it was just five minutes on the District Line; think it was only a few billion light years away - purple skies and burning acid rain all day; all that stood on the swampy terrain was a mere bio-dome connected to an asteroid called ThulaNova. It was seen on Earth quite clearly in the mirrored sky and the realm-space was realigned to make travel to and from Earth. You can get there and back from Wood Green…Just depends on the time...

Tommy Tellman was an old hand at this kind of astral lark... He was a Life-Coach Guru and had decided to live in Frinton-on-sea...He was known locally as“Merlin Man”...He grew mushrooms and made orgone accumulators...He knew about the locals calling him Merlin...He did not watch Merlin or read T. H. White’s classic take; though he watched an illegal anime re-edit of Sword in the Stone which was effectively a porno...Demonic cock-swords indeed; he preferred an episode of Mighty Magi-Swords, though you didn't need to go back to the Twenties for all that jazz.....He was not a scholar specializing in the complexities of the Arthurian Legend...But, like most people, he dabbled with the occult... He was, in fact, a secret agent for a dimensional force called C.O.G. He was an eternal advisor for the Mutant Police Division...

Frinton had survived the apocalypse on Trelficloco. The only problems were that the weather in Trelficloco’s bio-dome disrupted much of Earth’s weather. This was not easily predicted, much like missing craft and other weather phenomena on Earth....

Tommy looked out of his window from his sparse chalet and realized that Treqloco might just crash into Earth’s realm space one day. Who could be causing this disruption on Treqloco. Tellman shifted himself there, the classical wraith man, he was able to do this as he had died while testing experimental aircraft in 1947. He would always be Bermudian now.

The pzi-communicator bleeped...

“Hello,” said Tommy Tellman.

“It’s Professor Norkgrub, Tommy. We need you again,” said Professor Norkgrub, somewhat over-enthusiastically.

“I’m retired, aren’t I?”

“It’s different now, Tommy. We’re on Earth, we’re all merging - can't you feel time flying? There’s never much time, is there, Tommy? Meet me at the Christchild and Vonderpump.”

Tommy sighed. “I'm not sure, Norky,” he mumbled. “Maybe I can have another sabbatical?” He hated that pan-dimensional tavern, which was a favoured haunt of Professor Norkgrub’s and the Demon-Tec division of the Mutant Police.

“Fine. I was going to go out for tea at