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OK, somebody explain this to me. And this.
Some guy explain it to me.
Nah, I was kidding. I don’t seriously expect guys to understand why a member of their own gender might voluntarily decide to do something with a good potential for not only removing him from the gene pool, but causing a great deal of pain and suffering to tender parts of his anatomy at the same time.
Are people as stupid as they appear, or are they even worse?
But seriously, did you click the ad? If you did, what were you thinking? You had no idea I’d linked it to a news article about how many people clicked that ad when it ran on Google. The link is to an X Biz article. Enjoy, and consider yourself lucky if you clicked that link and didn’t get infected.
I know this is how it works, because I used to work for a company where some idiot attached an infected file to an email that said “Don’t open this, there’s a virus in it” and mass mailed it to everybody in the company. Over a thousand people clicked it and had to get their computers disinfected.
Slave number 23 stepped back to survey his work, admiring it discreetly. Even though he knew that pride is one of the Deadly Sins which slaves must never permit themselves to feel, he was fully aware that he and his crew had done a damned fine job. The design and construction work they had put into making the classroom modifications functional, attractive, and durable had paid off. Not only that, but they had finished on schedule, even though it had been necessary to work extra shifts to do so.The Principal would be very pleased.
The classroom had been long and narrow, with entrance doors at the front and rear. The designer had intended it to hold six or more rows of desks, with blackboards on the front and rear walls. Of course, it would have been challenging to actually run a class full of that many slacktards of the sort of males who attend the Academy. That many hormonally-challenged males in so close a proximity did not make for a learning environment, and the best that the instructors had been able to do was to space the desks far apart. That way there was enough room between the desks so that the students could not distract each other quite so readily. Also, the instructor could walk easily between the desks during class, watching for bad behavior and swiftly correcting it. So it still was an effective classroom, as far as learning and discipline was concerned, but the number of students in that big room had had to be kept small. The teacher was often exhausted after a class.
Finally someone got the bright idea of dividing the classroom into two smaller rooms and building in custom desks Thus the project was launched.
How cozy and secure the cubies looked. How very confining. It made him wish he was a student again, so he could be restrained against his will and then humiliated in front of the entire class for opening his mouth at the wrong time. Those were the days…
Perhaps he could get his Mistress to schedule a private session in the cubies. If the Goddesses thought he had done as good a job as he and his crew thought, the room was probably going to be very popular in the off-hours.
Looking at his watch, Slave 23 realized that class was starting. He knew he was not required to stay, but he wanted to see the first class use his new creation. He took the class assistant slave position by the door. Momentarily the door opened, and the teacher entered, followed by the same 12 boys who had occupied the class before the renovation. Slave 23 could see the look of surprise in their eyes as they gazed on the new room setup.
The room was now only half as deep. A new wall had divided it into two rooms with separate entrances. The new rear wall had what looked like two rows of six large wooden boxes mounted on it, facing toward the front of the room. Getting closer, the boys could see that each box contained a chair. The first six boys ducked slightly to enter the bottom row of boxes and sit in the desks. The remaining six boys stepped up to the top row on a step that was mounted on the dividing walls of the boxes.
The teacher barked orders. “Hands on your head! Feet in!” Seeing that all the boys were still, she raised the remote control and began securing procedures. Manacles encircled the boys’ ankles. Waist restraints secured their waists, as in a carnival ride. Desktops came down from the top panel of the boxes and locked securely in place. The notches cut out for the boys’ waists fitted securely. There would be no way for the boys to distract themselves by playing with their male members.
“Lower your hands!” shouted the teacher. The boys gingerly lowered their hands and looked around, but there was nothing to see but the teacher and the blackboard in front of them. Well, that and slave number 23 with a silly smirk on his face, that is.
Everything was clearly under control. Slave number 23 left the room to file his report with the Principal, take a nap, and dream of the new cubies in Room 8G.
I really don’t want to get too deep into definitions here. All you need to know is that lolcats are unbelievably cut pictures of cats with even cuter captions photoshopped onto them, while memecats are a subcategory of lolcats. They all seem to be captioned in a peculiar dialect, but we won’t get into that.
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