Monday Morning Commute: nanobot-induced autoerotics

If there was one thing Grandpa was good for at Thanksgiving, it was sniffing a legion of nanobots before sitting down at the dinner table. There was an inevitable moment during the passing of the animal-flesh and the smashed-starches where his slackened, tired jaw would clench-up. Science retrieving something scattered decades ago by the natural progression of his Meat Case. Somewhere between that third fucking scoop of potatoes his eyes would dilate. His neck would kink. And as he tried to keep his hands from jittering upon the wooden offering-plank, a barely audible moan would escape them cracked lips.

“Oooh, the potatoes” he would murmur. False teeth clacking. “Ohhh, this turkey. Th-the gravy” he would gasp. We tried not to stare. When you’re one-hundred and thirty-four you write your own rules. None of us said a word, but we all knew the goddamn truth. That withered one man’s dick was titillated. An orgy of chemicals in his veins, an orgy of nanobots in his balls prodding his phallus into a seemingly-impossible climax.

Goddamn Grandpa and his goddamn nanobot-induced autoerotics.

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This is Monday Morning Commute. Share what you’re up to this week.

New Borderlands drops this week.

Ain’t the original team. So my expectations.

Are mitigated. But still.

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New Hail Mary Mallon jam.

Is so fucking grooving.

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Bateman and I.

Are going to play,

The Evil Within.

Creator of Resident Evil, GET.

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Maybe buying a new bookcase today.

Yes this is lit nerd excitement.

All the bookcases! All the bookcases!

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That’s my week. Nothing too exciting. Shortened week though, which is always nice. What are you folks up to?