19. Hentai House

My house is a house of Japanese hentai tentacle porn. At random inconvenient moments when I am in my house, flocks of penis-tipped tentacles spring out from under rugs and behind furniture to trap my arms and legs in tight coils. Then, other tentacles rip away my clothing and go to work on my oral and anal cavities. Always, I resist with as much strength as I can muster, screaming and moaning. Always, I am overcome, and the penis-tipped tentacles have their unspeakably wicked way with me. Always, I have orgasm after orgasm while pale blue rivers of shame flow unchecked from my tightly shut, enormous eyes.

Sometimes it happens when visitors are present. Then they, too, discover the filthy, insidious embrace of the tentacles. There are usually one of two reactions: I never see my guests again, or they start coming over all the time.

For a while, I had a sign on my front lawn that said, “Beware of Japanese Hentai Tentacles!” But I took it down because it started attracting the wrong element. Now I have a discreet brass placard by the doorbell. I would hate for someone to have no warning whatsoever. I got strange looks when I had the placard custom ordered. Brass placards that say, “Beware of Japanese Hentai Tentacles” are not mass-produced.

People tell me I should move. Maybe I will. But I’ll have to sell the house first. Can you imagine what would happen if the tentacles made an appearance while a realtor and potential buyers were touring the house? I suppose either I’d get sued, or I’d sell the house for whatever price I felt like asking.

Also, the possibility occurs that if I move, the Japanese hentai tentacle porn will follow me. All the fuss and bother of moving, and I would still be in the same predicament, but in a house that I maybe wouldn’t like as well as this one.

It’s a conundrum.

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