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The Catastrophes Issue

The Mommy X-Perience

Strange things happen to a woman’s vagina after a human slides out of it, aside from the obvious stretching and tearing.
Dir: Joey Silvera
Rating: 10 Strange things happen to a woman’s vagina after a human slides out of it, aside from the obvious stretching and tearing. I’m no scientist but what I’ve deduced is that there are wires that are connected from the vag to the Fuck Button in the woman’s brain and after giving birth they are severed and the signal that used to tell the mind, “Let’s fuck!” now says, “Fuck that! No one is going in or out of that hole ever again!” There were points after the birth of my son that I wanted to tie that wire into a noose and hang myself with it. Sure the image is funny, picturing me on the floor, limp with a 14-gauge copper wire wrapped around my neck that leads to my wife’s pussy as she sleeps unaware, but trust me, having to constantly scold your hard-on for constantly presenting itself isn’t. In those early months I masturbated more than I did when I discovered how the goddamn thing worked back as a teenager. But fear not, the wire solders itself back together and eventually, out of the clear blue, you are awoken by the loving rape of your woman while you’re passed out from cheap wine. Recently, after a session of me taking vengeance on my wife’s privates for the pain it caused me in those beginning days of parenthood, my wife turned to me and asked, “You were worried, weren’t you? You thought we’d never have sex again?” I laughed. The thought hadn’t really crossed my mind. I knew eventually she would be back to her old form… or I was just going to take it from her, like it or not. I was rather drunk when I married her and the vows aren’t all together clear but I’m pretty certain that one of the vows the priest had her say was, “From this day forth, this pussy is yours to do as you wish.” Like 99 percent certain. And who am I to not honour the words of a priest, who is God here on Earth, right? I didn’t tell her that she was within four days of getting dry raped in her sleep. Instead I just said, “It wasn’t a matter of if you’d ever want to F me, just a matter of when. I never had any doubt.” “Yes, you did. You were worried.” “No,” I said, “If that were the case, if I really thought you weren’t going to ever touch me again, I would have left you. Baby and all. I would have said I was going for milk and never come back. I’d find some young harlot that was hungry for cock and bed down with her for as long as she’d allow. But I didn’t. Because I had faith in your vagina.” She thanked me and called me a true romantic. Or maybe she told me to fuck off and said I was an asshole; her tits were out and so I was only half listening. The moral of the story is if you’re a sex addict like me and haven’t had a day without some sort of sexual release since you were 14 and you and your woman are talking about having kids, then you should take a real long, hard look at adoption. More stupid can be found at